Josh Trank‘s Fantastic Four is a diabolical assault on everything great about one of Marvel’s most popular and beloved superteams. It takes itself too seriously, it’s colorless visually and emotionally, and it dupes us by promising something “Fantastic” and instead delivering a lifeless black hole of an experience that’ll ruin your day. There’s no fun to be had here.

Strangely enough, the absence of fun was sort of an artistic choice by Trank, who landed the Marvel gig off of the success of his 2012 superpower drama Chronicle. That movie focused on the real-world implications of superpowers, showing one troubled teen’s pent-up rage manifesting itself as a city-leveling act of revenge against the world. Trank’s approach with Fantastic Four is to similarly ground the source material in the real world, pondering what would actually come of Mr. Fantastic, The Invisible Woman, The Human Torch and The Thing if they existed on earth today.

In trying to strip away the comic book cheese in favor of a science/body-horror take on the characters, Trank actually saps every drop of life out of the source material in an act of selfish franchise perversion and disfiguration that’s actually somehow worse than the Adam Sandler monstrosity that is Pixels, which is still terrorizing audiences across the country with its blatant prostitution of retro gaming. At least Pixels tried to entertain you; Fantastic Four makes you feel like crying in a corner.

The movie’s story is based on an arc from the Ultimate Fantastic Four series of comics. It’s a revised origin story that sees Reed Richards (Miles Teller), a brilliant inventor, scientist, and engineer, team with siblings Sue (Kate Mara) and Johnny Storm (Michael B. Jordan, who acted for Trank in Chronicle), and Victor Von Doom (Toby Kebbell), Reed’s anti-establishment intellectual rival, to build an inter-dimensional teleporter. The first two-thirds of the movie creep along as we watch them build the damn thing, going through the motions of clichéd team dynamics (love triangle, sibling rivalry) as we wait for something, anything, to excite us.

Be forewarned: this is a crappy body horror movie, not a superhero movie. Following a rogue mission to “Planet Zero” by the boys and Reed’s old friend, Ben Grimm (Jamie Bell), the kids do acquire powers: Reed gets stretchy; Johnny turns into a fireball; Sue turns invisible; Ben turns into an ugly rock Thing. Victor gets left behind on Planet Zero, and he turns into Doctor Doom.

You’d think the movie would finally, mercifully kick into high gear at this point and at least give us some action, but no. Instead, we watch the kids blow up rocks and storage crates at an industrial (bland-looking) secret base so that the government can observe their freakish abilities. They’re miserable lab rats running in circles, and watching them agonize and writhe in pain as their bodies betray them is a pointless play for existential drama that falls flat on its face. Hellbent on revenge, Victor plans to sap the earth’s resources and shape Planet Zero to his liking as its all-powerful dictator (and sole inhabitant). Yadda yadda.

The plot isn’t worth talking about any further. It stinks, and most of the storylines vanish into thin air inexplicably. What’s worthy of note is that Trank’s intentions were good. He was trying to make the anti-superhero movie by sprinting to the opposite side of the spectrum of Fox’s failed 2005 Fantastic Four movie adaptation, which was goofy as all hell. He ran too far, however, and the risk, unfortunately, didn’t pay off. In fact, it blew up in his face, and in turn, all of our faces as well.

Maybe the most intolerable thing about this movie is its look. It’s like watching someone smear gray and blue paint over a black canvas for 100 minutes. This movie feels like that time of year when fall fades into winter and all the rain and overcast mush just makes you feel like frowning and napping all day. The visual effects are ugly, the cinematography is pedestrian, and the movie’s two (yes, two) action scenes are so poorly staged and nonsensical and unsatisfying it’ll give you blue balls.

The obvious beacon of hope for this dreary piece of work is the young cast, most of whom have proven they have enough charisma to carry a movie on their own. The material proves to be unsalvageable, however, as proven leading-men Teller and Jordan are forced to navigate their way through dialog that’s so unconvincing and artificial it hurts. The worst scene comes last, as the four friends stands around their new government-funded research facility, trying to figure out what to name the team. Admiring the new digs, Ben says with a smile, “It’s fantastic.” Reed’s eyes widen. “Say that again…” Ben obliges: “It’s fantastic.” Seriously, guys? Seriously?

It’s hard to watch Snowpiercer without thinking about the last several months of controversy surrounding it. The film, an international production by Korean director Bong Joon-Ho (Memories of Murder, The Host, Mother), had its distribution rights bought up by Harvey Weinstein for the US. The trouble started when it was revealed that Weinstein, feeling the film wouldn’t be understood by midwestern audiences, wanted to cut at least 20 minutes from Bong’s preferred cut. After months of small updates on the matter, an agreement was finally made. Weinstein would release the final cut of Snowpiercer without any alterations, but it would be a limited release instead of a wide one.

The story behind Snowpiercer‘s release, despite having a happy ending, unfortunately changed the way people approach the film. After months of battles over editing, viewers will quietly debate over whether or not Weinstein’s suggestions weren’t exactly so out of line. It’s a shame because, tossing all surrounding controversy aside, Snowpiercer is quite entertaining. It’s a blockbuster in a single location, with enough quirks and artistry to remind audiences how a film like this could only be made outside of the Hollywood studio system. It’s a flawed and sometimes messy film from time to time, but in a manner that’s more risky and exciting instead of frustrating and incompetent.

In the near future, a chemical intended to lower the world’s temperatures ends up working so well that it brings about a new ice age. It’s impossible to live outside, and the small number of remaining survivors live on the titular train. The Snowpiercer travels around the world endlessly, and a highly enforced class system is in place on the train to maintain order. The story starts in 2031, 17 years after the train began running, in the tail section. The tail is reserved for the lower class citizens, with its inhabitants living in squalor with nothing to eat but gelatinous protein bars. Curtis (Chris Evans) and Edgar (Jamie Bell) are in the process of leading a revolt against the oppressive forces from the front of the train, which we only get brief glimpses of from the bizarre characters that visit the back of the train from time to time (this includes a brilliant Tilda Swinton in a performance that single-handedly elevates the entire film).

Curtis and his cohorts (including Octavia Spencer, John Hurt and Bong Joon-Ho regular Song Kang-Ho) successfully overpower security forces in the tail section, thus beginning their journey to confront Wilford, the mysterious engineer making sure the train operates smoothly. Bong, who’s known for his masterful ability to throw abrupt tonal shifts into his work without losing audiences, thrives in his film’s setting. Each train car acts as its own little universe, giving Bong an excuse to change the film’s dynamic while expanding its scale. A huge action sequence can be followed with a bizarre, expository visit to the train’s school, followed by a tense fight scene with almost no dialogue. These sequences, which also show off the incredible set design, are handled with aplomb, and make sure that Snowpiercer never spares a stale moment.

Snowpiercer isn’t without its flaws though. The script, adapted from a French graphic novel by Bong and Kelly Masterson, isn’t exactly subtle with some of its ideas (Early on Curtis says “I’m not a leader”, a line that stamps LEADER in big letters on his forehead), and some elements are introduced for no apparent reason (one character’s clairvoyant abilities is ignored almost immediately after it’s introduced). Still, Bong’s political commentary on the need for oppression to survive is far more interesting of a topic for this kind of film, and the way he expands his film’s scope toward the end is quite entertaining. Snowpiercer may not be the masterpiece that people were hoping for, but that shouldn’t take away from the fact that it’s a hell of a fun ride.

Snowpiercer trailer

The 20th Los Angeles Film Festival has begun! Despite its location in the heart of the film industry in downtown Los Angeles, and the now 20 years it has under its belt, the LA Film Fest hasn’t yet joined the ranks of Sundance, Cannes, and Toronto. But this year’s offerings prove the LA Film Festival can hold it’s own with 35 premieres, 23 of those World Premieres. Put on by Film Independent, who also stage the annual Independent Spirit Awards, the film festival has a distinct indie feel, and first time and emerging artists are given deserved exposure. The festival kicked off with the North American premiere of Joon-Ho Bong’s dystopian flick, Snowpiercer. Despite its rocky entry and noted squabbles over editing for the North American release, the film is here and it’s magnificent.

Set in 2031, the future of the world is cold and bleak. Literally. The world has been frozen over when an attempt to counter global warming backfired and the world is now a snow-covered tundra. The last few survivors live aboard the Snow Piercer, a train that travels along a worldwide track at breakneck speeds powered by a perpetual-motion engine. Over the past 17 years that the train has traveled on its endless loop, a class system has emerged. Those up front near the engine live in luxury, those at the tail live in destitution. Led by elderly Gilliam (John Hurt), a revolution begins to form and at its forefront is Curtis (Chris Evans playing a decidedly darker hero than the recent Captain America), along with his doting friend Edgar (Jamie Bell). They’ve been receiving messages from someone at the front, encouraging their revolution. After several of their children are taken and yet another innocent man is punished, they decide the time has come to fight back. Their first mission: rescuing an ex-security man from the jail section, Namgoong Minsu (Kang-ho Song), who can open the gates as they make their way to the front of the train.

The film pays sincere homage to its comic roots. Based on the French graphic novel Le Transperceneige by Jacques Lob, many of the film’s sequences play out in well formed sequences that could easily have been taken directly from frames on the novel’s pages. The exaggerated characters feel the most cartoonish at times, but always to excellent effect, the standout character easily being Tilda Swinton’s Minister Mason, a first class train citizen in charge of representing the almighty Wilford, he who built the train and runs its engine. Mason, with her large lipstick stained teeth, school-girl bob, and her stylized Yorkshire accent is excellent material for Swinton’s skills.

The film is well paced, fleshing out its characters as they level-up to each new section of the train. And the train! An ingenius setting for a revolution, each section narrow and yet wholly original in its purpose. Food manufacturing. Water source. Sushi bar. Sauna. School room. Night club. Each of them bringing some new insight into the train’s hierarchy, and each building to what awaits beyond the final gate: the engine room. Art Director Stefan Kovacik continually impresses with each subsequent scene.

The end threatens to weigh the film down. While Chris Evans easily impresses wielding an axe, shooting a gun, and looks damn good with bruises and blood covering him for most of the film, his wide-eyed wonder during the film’s complicated ending is entirely out of character for the action-oriented Curtis. The final 20 minutes are easily where the Weinsteins could have insisted on some editing and the film would have been all the better for it. But as drawn out and self aware as it is, each revelatory moment in the ending adds to the epic feel of the film and Ed Harris’s portrayal of the enigmatic Wilford, while somewhat expected, is still worth the film’s build.

By far the best sci-fi film I’ve seen yet this year, and proof that international films make for more interesting dynamics, Snowpiercer is easily the original action film a summer full of big budget explosions needs.

Watching Filth, I noticed a few things. One, I felt increasingly as the film progressed that a good long shower was in my immediate future, and two, that those cunning crystal blue eyes of James McAvoy serve the same purpose in all his films. To absolutely mesmerize. While it’s more often to steal the hearts of females everywhere, in Filth, those eyes hypnotize all, hiding the evil of a man intent on getting what he wants.

From the same crusty mind who brought the world the novel Trainspotting, Irvine Welsh, comes Filth, adapted for the screen and directed by Jon Baird. McAvoy plays Bruce Robertson, a detective with his eye on a promotion to Detective Inspector. When a juicy murder comes up, he’s assigned the lead on the case. In order to assure his lead on the promotion, Robertson starts to attack his competition with coy tricks to drive them mad, expose their secrets and generally make himself look better. The depths of his malice know no bounds and Bruce is driven by the belief that this promotion will bring his broken family back together, since his wife left with their daughter. Even his one and only friendship, with Bladesey (Eddie Marsan) a meek man from Bruce’s masonic lodge, is one of undeserved manipulation and bullying.

Bi-polar and maintaining a pretty heavy drug addiction throughout, Bruce’s focus on messing with the lives of his co-workers begins to deter from his investigation and as things begin to unravel for him the story leads to a twist ending where he is faced with an even more unsettling truth about himself.

Currently available to stream VOD, I highly recommend using subtitles when watching Filth. The Scottish accents are pretty stinkin’ heavy, not to mention their expressions aren’t ones Americans are likely to be familiar with. McAvoy does an excellent job with the role–a truly hideous but engaging persona to watch. His complete lack of a moral compass makes him interesting, but ultimately the shift in plot at the tail end of the film attempt to give him a humanity that just doesn’t seem deserved. A sub-plot involving a woman (Downton Abbey‘s Joanne Froggatt) whose husband’s life Bruce is unable to save–in the one time in the film he acts like a cop–is too intermittent to make us care for him. And the film’s ending, while somewhat unexpected, leaves no real satisfaction.

But that seems to be Welsh’s intent (if indeed the film follows the novel). Baird’s film deserves some distinction for its gritty cartoonish (and indeed there are actual cartoons in the film) visuals, and watching McAvoy wreak havoc is certainly entertaining, but it’s not likely to make the same splash Trainspotting made. The dark humor is too dark at points, while abandoned altogether at others, and the revelations aren’t enough to explain things satisfactorily.

McAvoy pulls his weight, but it’s not enough to push this filth to the top of the trash heap.

Class is back in session! After the first half of Nymphomaniac ended on one of Joe’s (Charlotte Gainsbourg) biggest emotional pivot points, the break between the two volumes is almost welcome. That’s only because Vol. 1 is so inundated with cinematic beauty, it almost doesn’t let you breathe for a full two hours. The fact that the first volume is such a stylistically bold and lovely achievement puts me in a bit of a precarious situation; how do you objectively assess a second half of a film and treat it as a whole? It’s easier with the first half because the film starts at the beginning and you’re watching it with fresh eyes. Here, the start is the middle and the mind scuttles to recall events instead of investing in the present. There’s no way around it—it’s impossible to treat Vol. 2 as a whole, so if you haven’t seen Vol.1 yet it’s best you stop reading and get on that first. That said, there’s no major spoilers ahead.

As soon as Vol. 2 begins, there’s a sense of major discord from the first half. Whereas the visually delectable Vol. 1 starts off on the sardonic notes of a Rammstein song playing over seemingly mundane events, the subdued intimacy in Vol. 2‘s beginning puts us in an immediate state of unease. In order to truly be in the moment with the characters, the viewer has to recall that Vol. 1 ends with the devastating line “I can’t feel anything”, uttered by Young Joe (Stacy Martin) while she’s having sex with Jerome (Shia LaBeouf). We have to remember how her roller-coaster feelings for Jerome finally blossomed from pity into undeniable love, and how her decision to funnel her nymphomania into one sexual partner started to foreshadow dire consequences. One of the opening moments of Vol. 2 illustrates: after vigorously trying to masturbate with no climactic success, Young Joe goes into the bathroom, takes a wet towel and proceeds to beat her vagina with it in frantic desperation.

Moments like these lose their emotional impact due to the disjointed release schedule of Nymphomaniac in North America, but they cannot be taken lightly within the whole context. No doubt, when the film is released in its entirety—hopefully uncut, and with Von Trier’s blessings—the film will be re-watched by its fans from start to intended finish, in order to get the full effect in one sitting.

Remember how my first review said that Nymphomaniac is Von Trier’s most accessible movie to date? Yeah, about that. Vol. 2 treads the all-too-familiar Von Trier ground of disturbance, reminding us that it comes from the same mind that created Antichrist (in one particular scene, Von Trier quite literally makes sure we remember.) The darkness of Vol. 2 eclipses the jocular style of Vol. 1 within minutes, and right up until its final, brilliant conclusion (one of the biggest mixed bags of emotion I’ve felt for an ending in years), makes Vol. 1 look like a pleasant stroll on a lazy Sunday. That, in and of itself, is one of the phenomenal traits built into the film’s fiber, and reason enough to make Nymphomaniac a scintillating cinematic event. The story grows as organically as its characters do.

As Joe grows from an innocent young girl who expresses herself through sex without giving it much thought, into a woman who has to cope with motherhood and battle her condition both internally and externally, the progression from light to darkness is only natural. Even the relationship between Joe and Seligman (Stellan Skarsgard) plunges into darkened depths; secrets are unearthed and Seligman’s tangents–having provided much amusement in Vol. 1–become more perceptible to Joe’s criticism and adorn a more somber vibe. When her relationship with Jerome begins its inevitable decline, the theme of sadomasochism is introduced and we see the boy who was once Billy Elliot (Jamie Bell, as the Kafkaesque ‘K’) playing one of Lars Von Trier‘s darkest characters ever. An improbable casting story if there ever was one. Heavily veiled in religious lexicon, this theme contains some of the hardest scenes to watch, but every painful moment and every disturbing feeling is intrinsic to Joe’s transformation.

After being silenced with Vol. 1‘s inviting approach, the general murmur amongst the skeptics is back to “There’s the Lars we know!” with Vol 2. But while those critics focus on highlighting all of Von Trier’s taboos for all the wrong reasons, they’re missing out on a truly transgressive piece of cinema. Nymphomaniac holds a deep wisdom within its clutches, and uses a woman’s sexuality as a scalpel to rip open the very fabric of humanity. In more ways than one, Von Trier has shown how big of a feminist he really is, and–as sad as it sounds—that’s still pretty unique in today’s world. There’s no doubt that fans of Lars Von Trier will fall madly in love with the complete Nymphomaniac because they’ll understand why Vol. 2 has to swap humor for gloom, and balance out its style for further substance. As the harder to watch, much more affective half, Vol. 2 compliments the first volume (as if it needed more complimenting) and re-affirms that Von Trier has made a masterpiece.

Nymphomaniac Volume 2 trailer

If there is one thing Lars von Trier does extremely well it is creating controversy. In 2011 the Danish filmmaker was deemed “persona non grata”, which is a subtle way of saying ‘you’re not fucking welcome here’ at the Cannes Film Festival after making some Nazi remarks. Continuing that trend of controversial moves, von Trier has just released a series of 14 character posters for his upcoming film Nymphomaniac. His new film follows a self-diagnosed nymphomaniac named Joe (played Charlotte Gainsbourg) who recounts her erotic experiences to the man who saved her life. Given the subject matter and who is doing the film, what better way to promote Nymphomaniac than having posters of all of the characters reaching climax in the nude?

Below are all 14 character posters for Lars von Trier’s Nymphomaniac