The Jungle Book, Disney’s latest cartoon-to-live-action adaptation, gets a lot of things right: It’s wildly entertaining, full of great vocal performances by a stacked A-list cast, and boasts a hilarious/creepy musical number by none other than Christopher Walken. But, as delightful as it is hearing Walken sing a jazzy Disney classic (fond memories of Pennies From Heaven come rushing back), the thing that makes this John Favreau-directed romp so enjoyable is its spellbinding presentation, which is worth the price of admission alone. This thing looks and sounds like pure movie magic and elicits the same gasps of wonder the original 1967 animated feature did at the time. Hell, this modern update may even be better. Time will tell.

Aside from star Neel Sethi, who plays our tumbling, red-loinclothed hero, Mowgli, every character is a computer generated, anatomically correct animal. Cartoons they are not: wolves don’t have insanely big “Disney eyes,” and birds don’t suddenly flash inexplicably human-toothed grins. These animals look real. They’re of our world. The animators and sound designers have done such good work here that it’s hard to express in words how damn amazing this thing looks, so let’s dive into the other aspects of the movie as a sort of respite before I continue gushing about the sound and visuals.

The story feels like a mash-up of the original 1967 animated musical and 1994’s The Lion King (several images—a stampede, a fiery final battle—will give you deja vu). It’s a combination that goes together like peanut butter and jelly. But PB and J can get old (especially when you find it). There are no ideas, themes, plot contours, or characters in this modern update that feel fresh or exciting. This isn’t a big issue, though, as the narrative formula Favreau and his team follow is tried and true and will work like gangbusters for those stepping into the theater expecting nothing more or less than a good ol’ time at the movies.

Plot-wise, screenwriter Justin Marks stays pretty close to the ’67 original. Mowgli is found in the jungle by stoic panther Bagheera (Ben Kingsley), who brings the “man-cub” to a pack wolves led by the noble Akela (Breaking Bad‘s Giancarlo Esposito). Nurturing Mowgli as his adopted mother is Rashka (Lupita Nyong’o), who rears him as her own. There’s no greater threat in the jungle than prowling tiger Shere Khan (Idris Elba), and Mowgli has the unlucky distinction of being at the top of his kill list (for reasons learned later in flashback).

To keep Mowgli out of the tiger’s clutches, Bagheera leaves to take the boy to the nearest man village. They get separated along the way thanks to a ferocious interception by Khan, and Mowgli falls in with loafer bear Baloo (a game Bill Murray, which is always a treat). Mowgli uses a pulley contraption to knock bee hives down from a high ridge (the animals disapprovingly refer to his handmade tools as “tricks”) and the two become fast friends. They, in fact, break out a jaunty rendition of “Bear Necessities,” which will please fans of the original and likely underwhelm youngsters who bring no nostalgia into the theater.

Baloo and Bagheera embark on a rescue mission when Mowgli’s captured by monkeys and taken to King Louie (Walken), a gigantic orangutan who’s like the jungle’s Don Corleone. He wants the boy to harness the power of the “red flower” and pass it along, making him the true king of the jungle. The “red flower,” of course, is fire, and when Mowgli learns that his family has been terrorized by Khan in his absence, he chooses instead to use the “red flower” as a tool of revenge.

It’s hard to understand how the digital artists made the animal characters both anatomically accurate while also expressing the wide range of emotions brought forth by the voice actors. Animals can be extremely expressive with their faces, but the fact that these onscreen beasts are speaking English and it doesn’t look weird at all is a feat of animation that’s hard to wrap your head around. Most CG animals look too clinical and fall headfirst into the uncanny valley, but these creatures look utterly seamless. While the plot isn’t anything special, the movie has a unique momentum to it in that you’re constantly dying to see which animal will be brought to life next (the elephants are particularly wondrous).

The unsung heroes of The Jungle Book, no doubt, are the sound designers and engineers. Their work here is astonishing. The animated characters look great, but what really sells them and makes them look convincing are the sounds they make as they walk around the lush jungle environments. Baloo is a big ass bear, so when he plops down to eat his honey, you can hear and, more importantly, feel the thud. Great sound design typically goes unnoticed, but in the iconic scene where Mowgli gets seduced by giant snake Kaa (Scarlett Johansson), her hypnotizing hisses swirl around you and squeeze like her coils, Johansson’s sultry voice fading in and out, swinging back and forth on the speakers.

Favreau’s always had a knack for giving his movies a sense of constant propulsion, even when there isn’t that much going on. His movies tend to just glide by, and The Jungle Book is no exception. It’s a rollercoaster thrill ride with simple, somewhat clichéd set pieces that nevertheless work like gangbusters because Favreau’s a good filmmaker who knows what beats to hit to get maximum excitement out of an action scene. There’s a tense hide-and-seek sequence involving Mowgli and Louie in the monkey temple that we’ve all seen before (you see the jump scare coming from miles away), but the way it’s edited and shot is just so riveting that you can’t help but eat it up.

There is one aspect of the movie that is, unfortunately, a constant distraction: Sethi’s dialogue delivery. Honestly, the kid’s just not good at saying his lines convincingly, and it makes some scenes just feel weird. It’s not his fault, really. He’s acting opposite imaginary characters whose voices are provided by some of the best actors in the business. But the sad reality is that it’s pretty jarring to hear this kid speak semi-awkwardly while his co-stars coast through their lines like butter.

What Sethi’s is good at is emoting with his body; he’s a physical actor, and a talented one at that. He’s a convincing wolf child, leaping through the trees and sliding down slopes with an effortlessness and sense of purpose, like jungle parkour is all he’s ever known. The film’s best, most touching moment sees Mowgli help a herd of elephants save one of their young, who’s fallen into a pit. The sun is rising, and in semi-silhouette, we see him save the calf (using one of his clever “tricks”) and wave goodbye to his new friends. He feels honest in moments like these, and thankfully, there are several. Sethi’s a mostly worthy Mowgli in a more than worthy retelling of a gem from the golden age of Disney Animation. If they can keep up this standard when bringing more cartoon classics into the world of live action, I say keep ’em coming.

Writer’s note: If you can, watch the movie in IMAX 3-D. The sound is spectacular and the 3-D is some of the best I’ve seen. Also, the closing credits definitely benefit from the added effect.

Remember the old question, “If an alien landed on Earth, how would you explain America to him?” The answer is: Sean Astin. He is the embodiment of so much of what has shaped our cinematic history. From cult classics to box office blockbusters, child actor to leading man, the movies he has been such a memorable part of are staples for any avid movie buff’s collection and his public life has been something to be proud of as well.

Here are 15 reasons we love Sean Astin in honor of his 44th year.

That was his feature DEBUT. What were you doing at that age?

In 1991, he played rebellious bad boy Billy Tepper in Toy Soldiers alongside Will Wheaton as Joey Trotta, two teens who take on a criminal trying to hold their school hostage.

In 1992, he was Dave in Encino Man, who with his friend Stoney Brown (Pauly Shore) befriended newly unfrozen caveman Link, Brendan Fraser.

You know, from the Patty Duke Show? How could this not make someone instantly awesome? Not to say it’s all rainbows and butterflies. She was diagnosed with bipolar disorder in 1982 and together they have been active in promoting public awareness for mental health issues.

He calls 3 other men ‘father’ as well: his biological father, Michael Tell, the man thought to be his biological father for the early years of his life, Desi Arnaz, Jr. and his mother’s current husband of 29 years, Michael Pearce. However, John Astin is the one he most associates with that title.

In 1992, Astin married Christine Harrell. They will celebrate their 23rd anniversary on July 11th this year and have 3 daughters. His eldest, Alexandra, also played his onscreen daughter, Elanor, in one of his last scenes in Lord of the Rings: Return of the King.

With Astin capturing the soul of this true story about a kid with not much going for him but incredible heart whose dream in life was to play football for Notre Dame, this was also the first movie Jon Favreau and Vince Vaughn would share a scene in. That’s history, folks.

He would reprise his role twice more in 2002 and 2003 with The Two Towers and Return of the King.

He’s inked with the number ‘9’ in Tengwar script, the language of the Elves of Middle Earth. John Rhys-Davies is the only one of the nine without out it, though his body double got inked with it!

Co-written with Joe Layden, it focuses on his cinematic career with emphasis on his experience in Lord of the Rings.

He’s had major roles in both 50 First Dates (2004) and Click (2006).

Astin had to gain 35 to 40 pounds to play the role of the very round but dependable hobbit. This was an issue, however, because Sean Astin has been an avid long distance runner since he was a teen and has since completed 9 marathons and even more half-marathons, 10k and 5k runs. He basically had to cool it on the running so he wouldn’t lose the weight. He is also a spokesperson for RunDisney and in 2012 he created the Twitter movement and running group #Run3rd.

He’s served on two presidential campaigns, two non-partisan Presidential committees, and was a Civilian Aide to the Secretary of the Army from 1995 to 2005. He is the host of Vox Populi Radio a non-partisan platform to discuss politics and current issues.

Slated to be released this year, it brings attention to one of the worst maritime disasters in U.S. history.

And that’s the long and short of it!

Between viewing options like Godzilla and X-Men: Days of Future Past, which make up the usual beginning-of-Summer box-office listings, is the smaller scaled and incredibly satisfying Chef. Jon Favreau takes a break from action movies and mainstream projects to get back to his indie comedy origins.

In Chef, Favreau (who wrote and directed) plays LA chef Carl Casper, a tattooed foodie who starts the film preparing for a big deal food critic who will be dining that evening at the posh restaurant where he works. He creates a creative new menu to showcase his culinary talents, aided in the kitchen by Martin (John Leguizamo) and Tony (Bobby Cannavale), his friends and associates. When the restaurant’s owner Riva (Dustin Hoffman) puts the pressure on Casper to play “his greatest hits” and stick to their usual menu, he gives in and predictably receives a horrible review by critic Ramsey Michel (Oliver Platt) who calls him out on having given up on the inspired dishes of his youth to cater to the boring palettes of the social élite.

Shaken by the review, Casper ruminates on the accusations, and when introduced to Twitter by his ten-year old son, Percy, he finds an outlet in which to retaliate, which he does without realizing the very public nature of Twitter. The Internet turns the online dual into an even bigger deal and Casper challenges Michel to another tasting, but when Riva puts his foot down once again Casper reaches his breaking point, quitting his job and erupting on Michel in a very public outburst that only perpetuates the scandal as its shared online. When his good friend Molly (Scarlet Johansson) points out that he hasn’t been truly happy in some time, Casper can’t help but face the music about his life and ambition.

Dejected and out of options Casper takes his ex-wife Inez (Sofia Vergara) up on an offer to go to Miami to spend more time with his son and in a way get back to his own roots in food making. In a hilarious cameo by Robert Downey Jr. playing Inez’s other ex-husband, Casper is offered a food truck and he decides to finally go into business for himself making the food he does best: cuban sandwiches. Joined by his best friend Martin and his son, the three make the trek from Miami to LA and Casper doesn’t just learn how to be the chef he should be, but also the father he should be as well.

With a touch of shmaltz and a whole lot of butter, this film should not be seen on an empty stomach. Favreau takes his time, allowing his characters to develop with the same precision and delicacy each meal on-screen is made with. Emjay Anthony plays Percy, Casper’s son, and his big brown eyes perfectly convey the sort of constant watching a young boy does of his father; looking for cues, lessons, and love. Like other foodie films, Chef doesn’t dance around the metaphors of recipes for food as recipes for love, but uses it to great effect. And the film is truly hilarious, using Casper’s lack of social media understanding for quite a few jokes that keep the film from feeling too indie.

Favreau uses all his famous friends (Downey Jr. and Johannson are both from Iron Man) but doesn’t abuse them, letting Leguizamo do the sort of cheeky comedy he’s so good at. The film’s ending is a bit Hollywood perfect and I wouldn’t advise anyone consider this an accurate career representation. Also, Casper’s naïve reaction to his food’s criticism doesn’t serve much as a lesson in thick skin by any means, and any allegory to Favreau’s own opinions on criticism of his work isn’t especially effective. But what Favreau maybe unintentionally proves is that when a creator gets to the core of what they do best, their work will almost always be applauded, and Chef is the kind of filmmaking Favreau excels at.

Chef is a fun summer film that leaves viewers happy and heart warmed, albeit hungry. No explosions or caped crusaders necessary.

Chef trailer

Martin Scorsese went cold after surprising everybody with his 2006 Best Picture winning The Departed. Years of toiling for Oscar with big-scale period epics like Gangs of New York and The Aviator reaped little reward. Instead, it was a violent, rapidly-paced gangster picture with its loose roaming camera that finally gave a great director his due. In the seven years since, he’s made a slick thriller from a popcorn crime page-turner (Shutter Island), a couple of music documentaries (Shine a Light and George Harrison: Living in the Material World), a love-letter to his art disguised as a family movie (Hugo), but nothing to match the equal parts existential tragedy and offhanded comedy of the aforementioned Oscar champ; his best film since setting the mold with Goodfellas. Cue The Wolf of Wall Street, the 5-times nominated gonzo Jordan Belfort biopic that, while hardly ‘indie,’ is more against-grain than you’d think.

Working from a script by his Boardwalk Empire collaborator and show runner Terrence Winter, with The Wolf of Wall Street  Scorsese sets a feverish pace and never lets up, as if defying anyone to get bored across its epic, 180-minute runtime. A quick scene-setting with a wide-eyed graduate Belfort and his mentor, Mark Hanna (Matthew McConaughey, who can currently do no wrong) thrusts us right into the mindset of the wolfish stockbrokers that guide the audience through this twisted version of that elusive dream: pump some people up, screw some people over, then subject mind and body to enough excess to forget the amorality of it all. The film doesn’t waste it’s time getting into the specifics of the acts of swindling executed by Belfort and his merry pack of deranged bandits. Scorsese is more focused on the life they lived as a result of it: the seductive extravagance of it, the excitable glee we feel toward it as we live vicariously through the actions unfolding. It’s a hardline stance against giving the film a moral compass to relate to (and Academy members love their moral compasses) that has equally found detractors decrying Scorsese’s glorification of the depravity, and champions praising the artistic verve in his aligning the camera with the repugnant pricks, so that we experience the same empty, uncaring attitude they hold for their victims; the same selfishly indulgent attention for only their possessions, their own highs, their own comedowns and sexual coups.

It’s brash, bold filmmaking, but those qualities are worn like a face tattoo: overtly apparent and even attention-seeking, as if Scorsese wanted to subtly remind us he made Goodfellas by taking a megaphone into an echo chamber and blaring “Remember when I made Goodfellas?!?” Leonardo DiCaprio gives a brilliantly committed performance as a classically deluded Scorsesian protagonist, blind to his steadily advancing comeuppance because his brain renders ideas quicker than his rearview can reveal the speed bumps. But when he breaks the fourth wall to remind us we don’t really care about the technicalities of what he did, it’s his best Henry Hill conceding to the artifice of the work of art. And when he’s doing his best His Left Foot, in a magnificent expired quaaludes sequence that’s both a peak and nadir in Belfort’s story, it’s with the kind of satisfying, outwardly showy performing that makes you miss the frustrated, inwardly-focused anguish that so marked his unawarded career-best work in The Departed.

Still, add in the comic chops of Jonah Hill, as deranged caporegime Donnie, and a relatively unknown Margot Robbie (as Belfort’s second wife, Naomi) — who, for better or worse, has nailed the sort of role that will make her a lot better known — as well as bit parts from Hollywood’s finest just-shy-of-A-Listers (McConaughey, Kyle Chandler, Jean Dujardin, to name a few), and The Wolf of Wall Street offers more than enough to satisfy at the cineplex. It’s an explicitly funny, absolutely entertaining three hours that nonetheless leaves us with a distinctive sense of emptiness, despite the fullness of aesthetic experience to which we’ve just been subject. Scorsese means precisely to close the film with his camera turned back to the audience, with a moment that — in perhaps another nod to The Departed — is almost cheekily literal. In spite of its length, it’s been said that The Wolf of Wall Street barely scratches the surface, hardly covering half of the story contained in the book. It may have just been a running time thing. Maybe I look too hard for poetics. But I like the idea that Scorsese wanted his audience to close the loop by design.

The Wolf of Wall Street trailer: