All the Money in the World, Darkest Hour, and The Shape of Water.

All right! Time to play catch up. I'm always one of the last to unveil my picks for the best and worst movies of the year, as my local theater scene doesn't always make it convenient for me to play catch-up (and Heaven forbid those movies have subtitles), and 2017 has been a particularly brutal year personally. But now, I'm ready to see some of the year's most buzzed-about titles, which finally make their way to my side of town. Starting things off, are some thoughts on the latest big contenders, from seasoned veterans Joe Wright, Ridley Scott, and Guillermo del Toro.




All the Money in the World:

It seems Ridley Scott has taken a page from the Tom McCarthy school, coming off of one of the year's worst movies with Covenant, and course correcting in a big way with his second 2017 venture. Centered on the long and arduous experience to pay off a ransom for J.P. Getty III, a ransom his wealthy grandfather refused to indulge, the film may be a slow-going experience, but the tactical and heated progression makes for intense and gripping watching, as once mere threats increasingly grow into very real bloodshed. The very concept of money itself is very smartly examined throughout, and while it may be an invaluable asset, the greedy attachment to it can warp a man's mind. It takes a very There Will Be Blood approach to riches ironically robbing our morality and judgment, and while nowhere near as successful, the gripping results are undeniable here.

But as always, the craft of Scott's meticulous work is what really propels the film, especially thanks to the commanding presence of his terrific cast, with Michelle Williams delivering an aching portrayal of desperation and resentment, and Mark Wahlberg a solid straight man and voice of reason always able to talk a tense situation down. But the true achievement comes from the 11th hour integration of Christopher Plummer, replacing J. Paul Getty's original actor Kevin Spacey. To Ridley's everlasting credit, the behind the scenes fiasco never rears its ugly head, nor does Plummer ever feel like an unnatural inclusion, fitting in naturally like a beautiful puzzle. Plummer is simply fantastic as a cold, untrusting, immovable mountain of a man, but who also succeeds with those warmer (if still stubborn) moments of humanity and internal conflict behind his reluctance to spend.

**** / *****



Darkest Hour:

Not to be confused with that Emile Hirsch trainwreck. Joe Wright's first good film since Atonement, Darkest Hour isn't a particularly fresh or innovative take on the early rise of British PM Winston Churchill, in some cases succumbing to a sense of stuffiness and easy crowd-pleasing ploys. Screenwriter Anthony McCarten of The Theory of Everything does his best to whittle down the extensive work of Churchill, but really the life of Churchill is one that's more deserving of a TV series, and the main plot threads can't help but feel tired having just come off the heels of Dunkirk and Netflix's The Crown. But it's thanks to Joe Wright's steady hand, and the full commitment of his game cast, that the material on hand manages to overcome such pitfalls. But this film wouldn't be nearly as commanding without Gary Oldman's electric leading turn, practically vanishing into the dramatic and larger-than-life shoes of Churchill, and aiding to give the boisterous and iconic figure much-needed depth, ensuring that Oldman's always heavy makeup jobs and mumbling speech patterns don't relegate him to an easy surface-level impression.


**** / ***** 



The Shape of Water:

It's been too long since we've gotten a great Guillermo del Toro fantasy. Action diversions like Hellboy and Pacific Rim are good and all, but Del Toro is often at his best when operating in the realm of fairy tales for adults. This year's The Shape of Water finally sees him returning to those roots, and if not hitting them in any groundbreaking ways, hits his high marks with undeniable skill and craft.

At first glance, what's most deceiving, but also quite welcoming about The Shape of Water, is its initially simple love story at the center of it all. A perverse and peculiar love story to be sure, taking cues from the classic Belle and the Beast mold, when digging deeper, there's a lot more to be said about the weighty undertones the movie comes attached with, bringing wider and more hard-hitting context through the deep-rooted prejudice of its setting. In the midst of its early sixties setting, primarily the infamous Space Race between the US and the Soviets, the hostility endured by the strange creature kept captive shows some truly harrowing effects, but like any classic fairy tale should, its core dark elements come to represent wider and greater issues of prejudice, including those of sexuality and racial identity.

It's old territory to be certain, but there's such a timeless beauty and sense of relevance to the film's presentation. A bizarre and visually quirky film in all of the best ways, even as del Toro infuses the film with moments of graphic violence and pure terror, there's such an endearing innocence to the film, encapsulated by it's mute protagonist Elisa. She's the one ever-constant ray of light in a world otherwise marred by cynicism and anger, whose lack of speech and extensive body language and expression translates more than even the loudest and long-winded of government higher-ups. Lack of speech is a great benefit to her presence, viewing the the things she encounters with the wide-eyed innocence of a child, and cutting through the meaningless rambling of words in a way that says "you may hear with your ears, but you're not listening" as succinctly and beautifully as one would imagine, all anchored by a phenomenal leading turn by Sally Hawkins.

Elsewhere, you have a terrific Michael Shannon as a ruthless government agent overseeing Elisa's secret facility, Richard Jenkins and Octavia Spencer excelling as Elisa's greatest and most meaningful human companions, and del Toro muse Doug Jones underneath motion-capture, bringing the perplexing and odd creature to stunning life. And if nothing else, del Toro's visual eye is still as beautiful as ever, with the very stylized and murky 60's setting becoming as much a character as the humans and frog creature, and a beautiful jazz-based score and soundtrack, perhaps Alexandre Desplat's most quintessentially French achievement yet. If not quite matching Pan's Labyrinth, The Shape of Water is still a lovely, ever-shifting work of art, telling simple and powerful stories through clever and deeply tied subtext and symbolism, confronting the hardships of the real world by way of enchanting fantasy and escapism, as all the great fairy tales do.


****1/2 / *****