The Divergent series has, in many ways, been doomed from go. Propping up the dystopian hero’s story is a clumsily conceived, confusing “faction” system that makes so little sense it can cause spontaneous combustion if meditated on for extended periods of time. So, here we are, considering Allegiant, the third entry in the series based on Veronica Roth’s popular YA books, directed by Robert Schwentke. While the overlong, bland, uninspired, nonsensical movie didn’t cause said spontaneous combustion, my explosive demise is imminent; there’s another one coming out next summer, part two of this miserably drawn-out finale, and if there’s any silver lining, it’s that we can at least say there’s an end game in sight.

Again, we join Tris (Shailene Woodley) as she continues to unravel the mystery of “the founders,” the people who set up the cockamamie faction system however-many years ago. To catch up: Until the final events of Insurgent, Chicago had been divided into districts, whose residents are assigned according to their dominant personality traits. Upon opening a mystery box left by the founders, Tris and the rest of Chicago learns that there are people beyond the sky-high city walls that have confined them for all this time, a revelation that effectively collapses the longstanding faction system and sends plucky Tris, her super-soldier boyfriend Four (Theo James) and their rebellious friends on a quest to find out, once and for all, what’s beyond the wall.

An underwhelming run-n-gun sequence follows our heroes as they evade military forces sent by Four’s mom, Evelyn (Naomi Watts), who in the last movie disposed of the tyrannical Janine (Kate Winslet), only to (predictably) adopt the former leader’s totalitarian tendencies. The group makes it over the wall, but not before two of the series’ prominent characters of color—played by Mekhi Phifer and Maggie Q, who are each given virtually no dialogue as a parting gift—are gunned down, likely to make room for the new influx of white actors we’re about to meet (Daniel Dae Kim shows up for a second too, another minority bit-part designed to create a false sense of diversity). Not an uncommon Hollywood practice, but frustrating nonetheless.

On the other side of the wall, we find a Martian-looking wasteland, an army bearing futuristic weaponry, a new city (built, amusingly, on the remains of O’Hare International Airport), and a benevolent leader David (a sleepy Jeff Daniels), who informs Tris that she is the sole success of the “Chicago experiment” the founders set up all those years ago. There are details, but they’re too stupid and uninteresting to get into here. The basics are, Tris is the key to the prosperity of the human race, and David, who (surprise!) isn’t as benevolent as he appears to be, pampers her into ignoring her friends to concentrate on fulfilling his Hitler-y dreams. Four, Christina (Zoe Kravitz), and Tris brother Caleb (Ansel Elgort) do their best to snap Tris out of her self-aggrandizing daydream while also dealing with a civil war that’s broken out back in Chicago between Evelyn and Johanna’s (Octavia Spencer) respective followers.

The logic of the faction system was already frustrating, but now the series introduces this master-race narrative that only makes things worse. It simply isn’t clear what the message is Roth and the filmmakers are trying to get across. Is it that everyone’s special? No one is special? Tris seems pretty special. So do her friends. They all specialize in one thing—Four kicks major ass, Caleb’s good with tech—but the movie seems to be saying that their laser career focus is the result of genetic tampering or something, which leads us back to the secret behind the faction system mess. I can feel my body wanting to burst now, as I type this.

The enjoyable thing about Insurgent was that the action was urgent and inventive, but the set pieces here feel more trite and way less entertaining. The folks beyond the wall have nicer looking lasers and flying bubble ships than the dirty trucks and machine guns we’ve seen in the previous installments, which is a welcome change, but one can’t get over the fact that every bit of art design we see feels woefully generic, as if they were scrounged from a bin of unused video game assets. Unexpectedly missed are the surrealistic dream sequences from the first movies.

Perhaps the biggest head-scratcher of all is how a movie can fail so epically with such an amazing cast of seasoned vets and young stars populating the screen at any given moment. For goodness sake, you’ve got Spencer, Watts, and Daniels bouncing off of Woodley, Elgort, James (who’s not half bad here, actually), Kravitz, and Miles Teller, whose charisma can make the most terrible line work, at least to some extent. The Whiplash star is a standout as the opportunistic Peter, whose flips in allegiance have been enjoyable throughout the series. My feeling is that the cast makes a terrible script feel somewhat coherent and emotionally grounded, and for that the unlucky few who actually see this movie in a theater should be thankful.

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?

Before your favorite film junkie started referring to anything she didn’t like as, “not my tempo,” and before Whiplash chugged its way to 3 Oscar wins, director Damien Chazelle worked on a short version of the Best Picture nominated film in order to help sell investors. That short film ultimately felt quite similar to the movie it helped spawn, so it’s no surprise that Chazelle was able to not only make Whiplash, but make it in a way that closely resembled his first attempt at the story. A YouTube user Username Hype sought to analyze the differences between the short and the feature by syncing footage from the two films side-by-side.

This video provides a glimpse at the ways in which Chazelle was already fully prepared to make his feature. Many of the shots that are perfectly timed to the openings notes of “Whiplash” (the song) appear identical in both the short and feature. Likewise, J.K. Simmons‘ Oscar-winning drill sergeant-like presence is just as intimidating in the short form. A collection of the musicians used for the short re-appear (including C.J. Vana as Metz, the trombonist Fletcher throws out of class on Andrew’s first day); however, a notable diversion is Johnny Simmons (The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World) as Andrew Neyman rather than Miles Teller. The video provides an interesting study of a director’s choices, as well as the transition a film must undergo as it comes to fruition. Check out the full side-by-side Whiplash short to Whiplash feature comparison video above.

Surprise: The action scenes in Insurgent, the follow-up to 2014’s dystopian sci-fi sensation Divergent (as if you haven’t heard), are actually pretty good. Take a late, trippy scene in which our returning, plucky heroine, Tris (Shailene Woodley), sprints after her mom (Ashley Judd), who’s trapped in a room on fire and detached from its building, floating away toward the horizon. Tris scrambles across rooftops and clings to hanging electrical wires, rubble whizzing by her face, as the mass of concrete and broken plumbing threatens to fly off into the stratosphere like a child’s lost balloon. It’s a thrilling, urgent sequence that manages to feel dangerous despite it taking place within a virtual landscape. (Tris’ mom is dead and, you know, rooms don’t fly. I’ll explain in a bit.) If only Insurgent were a straight-up action movie, it may have stood a chance.

But alas, those familiar with the first film and Veronica Roth’s hit young adult book series on which the franchise is based know that the series’ focus lies not in exciting set pieces, but in an ill-conceived mythology centered on a walled-in city (formerly Chicago) that herds people into factions based on predominant personality traits. A few moments of thought reveals this faction system to be laughably illogical and impractical, and yet it there it is, the bubble of idiocy within which all of the film’s events are informed and take place. So, while the action is entertaining when judged on its own, it always leads us back to the story’s dimwitted conceit. Practicality isn’t a storytelling prerequisite (especially when it comes to sci-fi), but there’s a point where suspending one’s disbelief so actively and extensively becomes a mind-numbing chore. Just like its predecessor, Insurgent is a head-scratcher from beginning to end, further cementing the series as the inferior alternative to the mighty Hunger Games juggernaut.

Things pick up shortly after the events of the first film, with Tris and her boyfriend, Four (Theo James), sharing a light chat and a kiss on a farming compound overseen by Amity (the pacifist faction), where they’re hiding from the military forces of Jeanine (Kate Winslet), the leader of Erudite (the rich, entitled faction). Her death, Tris thinks, is the key to city-wide peace, or something. Joining the killing-machine lovebirds on the farm are Peter (Miles Teller), Tris’ Dauntless arch-rival, and Caleb (Ansel Elgort), her formerly Erudite brother, but the four hideaways get quickly disbanded when a tank-driving hoard of Jeanine’s troops, led by merciless Dauntless turncoat Eric (Jai Courtney), raids the compound in search of Tris.

Oh, that Tris. She’s so special. Jeanine’s hunting her down because she found a mysterious box in Tris’ old Abnegation home. She needs a Divergent—someone who carries the primary traits of all five factions—to open it: Contained within is a message from the architects of the city (not Chicago, the new city, the one based on segregation), and only when someone endures all five faction-themed “sims” (that floating room deal was the Dauntless sim) will its contents be revealed. There are plenty of Divergents running around, but none that Jeanine’s managed to capture have thus far been able to survive the five virtual trials. She needs a special Divergent. The best Divergent. Who do you think that could be? Hm?!!

The main appeal of female-centric young adult series like Twilight, Hunger Games, and Divergent is that they provide young girls with a powerful, brave, sought-after, special heroine to project themselves onto, thereby feeding into their wildest center-of-the-universe fantasies. Allegory is the vessel by which these stories deliver their coming-of-age messages (Insurgent‘s happens to be one of self-forgiveness), but the problem with Roth is that she piles on so much on-the-nose allegory and symbolism that her messages feel hokey and forced and obtuse. The film’s cast is talented for days, and its director, Robert Schwentke, despite having a hit-or-miss catalogue (Flightplan, R.I.P.D., RED), has proven to be a very capable filmmaker. Everyone involved is capable of making good stuff, but what ultimately does them in is the shoddy source material.

The actors are pros put forth a decent effort, though it’s clear some of them would jump ship if they could. Teller and Elgort, who’ve each found major success in the 12 months since the first film, feel a bit overqualified for their roles at this point, but they make lemons out of lemonade, particularly Teller, who plays a great, love-to-hate-him turncoat weasel. He’s always a welcome on-screen presence, especially when he manages to squeeze some real humor out of otherwise lifeless scenes with nothing but a sarcastic eyebrow raise or a shifty glance. Woodley doesn’t do the action hero thing as well as Jennifer Lawrence does, but she’s better at looking vulnerable: when she’s in pain or letting out a heartened battle cry, her voice shakes and then cracks a bit, kind of like Sia when she belts out the chorus of “Chandelier”.

Though their performances feel uninspired across the board, the older actors lend the film some gravitas. Winslet plays Jeanine as a straight-up sociopath authority figure, showing no remorse for subjecting innocent Divergents to her evil experiments (though technically, the city’s founders designed The Box and how to open it, so are they evil too?), and Naomi Watts shows up as Four’s thought-to-be-dead, insurrectionist mother and leader of a group the heroes fall in with called the “factionless” (they’re essentially the opposite of Divergents). What’s strange is—and forgive me if this sounds lewd—Watts (who looks insanely good for her age) seems to have more sexual chemistry with James than Woodley does, despite playing his mom. Just throwing that out there. Octavia Spencer pops up for a second as the leader of Amnity, but she’s quickly forgotten before she can make an impression.

The visual effects are impressive, especially during the inevitable simulation set pieces, though the digital effects team seems to have a strange fascination with floating rubble (tons and tons of frozen-in-time rubble). What stands out more is the tangible stuff, the fight and action choreography, which is way better than it has any right to be. A nighttime Erudite vs. Dauntless ambush sequence is the best moment in the entire series, as it actually convinces you that there are human lives at stake (instead of miraculously dodging a zillion bullets, people actually get shot).

Without spoiling too much, I will say that the forthcoming two entries in the series, the Allegiant two-parter, have hope of not being bogged down by the same nonsensical premise as the first movies. But as far as Insurgent is concerned, it’s still stuck in the muck. The reveal of what’s inside “the box” is so dumb it hurts to think about. It simply doesn’t make any sense, which seems to be this series’ unintended overriding theme. Funny thing is, during the climax, Woodley actually says, “I know it doesn’t make any sense, but you have to trust me,” to Four as he stares at her quizzically. That was worth a chuckle. If you’re able to push aside the confused machinations of the larger plot during the scenes of flashy violence, you may be able to find a bit of enjoyment in Insurgent. Beyond that, there isn’t much nice to say.

The Hangover director Todd Phillips has been developing Arms And The Dudes, based on The Rolling Stone article “The Stoner Arms Dealers: How Two American Kids Became Big-Time Weapons Traders,” with Jonah Hill attached to the lead. It appears that Phillips has now found his other dude. Whiplash star Miles Teller has joined the upcoming Warner Brothers film. Teller will play licensed massage therapist David Packouz, who becomes an international arms dealer with Efraim Diveroli (Hill).

The 2011 Rolling Stone article detailed the “Stoner Arms Dealers” awarded a $300 million contract to supply weapons to U.S. Allies in Afghanistan. Prior to Hill & Teller signing on for the lead roles, Jesse Eisenberg and Shia LaBeouf were rumored for the project.

There’s no specific release date as of yet, although a 2016 release date is expected.

You might be thinking “Already?!” but yes, award season is already starting. Today, New York’s Gotham Independent Film Awards put out their nominees, a list filled with pleasant surprises and some very obvious choices.

Let’s start with the obvious choice: Boyhood. Any indie award would be insane to deny Richard Linklater’s film, possibly the indie event of the year, some love, so Gotham understandably gave it four nominations: Best Picture, Best Actor (Ethan Hawke), Best Actress (Patricia Arquette) and Breakthrough Actor (Ellar Coltrane). Also unsurprising is Birdman nabbing three nominations for Best Picture and Best Actor (Michael Keaton). Expect to hear even more about Birdman in the months to come.

Because the Gotham Awards are about independent film, that gives some great underrated films and performances the chance for some exposure through a nomination. The biggest surprise might be Under the Skin and Scarlett Johansson scoring nominations for Best Picture and Actress. It’ll be unlikely for Jonathan Glazer’s strange sci-fi to get much love outside of critics’ circles this year, so nominations like these are nice to see. Another great choice by Gotham: Giving Ira Sachs’ wonderful Love is Strange a Best Picture nomination. Sachs’ film, a quietly heartbreaking drama, seems bound to get left out this year once the awards race kicks into high gear (if Best Actor weren’t so competitive this year, John Lithgow and Alfred Molina would have been locks). Any recognition for Love is Strange is a huge plus.

Read on below for the full list of nominees, including the nominees for Breakthrough Director and Actor. For those more interested in the bigger awards, take note of Oscar Isaac’s nomination for A Most Violent Year. The film hasn’t come out yet (it opens AFI Fest next month), so this nomination might be a hint of another shake-up in the coming weeks. And if anyone’s wondering where current Best Actor frontrunner Steve Carrell is, Gotham decided to give Carrell and co-stars Channing Tatum and Mark Ruffalo a special award for their ensemble performances in Foxcatcher.

The Gotham Independent Film Awards will hold their awards ceremony on December 1st.

Best Feature

Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)
Boyhood
The Grand Budapest Hotel
Love Is Strange
Under the Skin

Best Actor

Bill Hader in The Skeleton Twins
Ethan Hawke in Boyhood
Oscar Isaac in A Most Violent Year
Michael Keaton in Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance)
Miles Teller in Whiplash (Sony Pictures Classics)

Best Actress

Patricia Arquette in Boyhood
Gugu Mbatha-Raw in Beyond the Lights
Julianne Moore in Still Alice
Scarlett Johansson in Under the Skin
Mia Wasikowska in Tracks

Best Documentary

Actress
CITIZENFOUR
Life Itself
Manakamana
Point and Shoot

Breakthrough Actor

Riz Ahmed in Nightcrawler
Macon Blair in Blue Ruin
Ellar Coltrane in Boyhood
Joey King in Wish I Was Here
Jenny Slate in Obvious Child
Tessa Thompson in Dear White People

Bingham Ray Breakthrough Director Award

Ana Lily Amirpour for A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night
James Ward Byrkit for Coherence
Dan Gilroy for Nightcrawler
Eliza Hittman for It Felt Like Love
Justin Simien for Dear White People

As we emerge on the other side of the long film festival season and move into awards season, Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash has been drumming up (sorry) so much good publicity that it isn’t crazy to think the 29-year-old filmmaker may be holding his first golden statue in a few months time. About an aspiring jazz drummer (Miles Teller) and his relentless, reprehensible teacher (J.K. Simmons), the film (out now in limited release, with a wider release this Friday) has been one of the most critically acclaimed of the year, and one of my personal favorites.

While in San Francisco for the Mill Valley Film Festival, I spoke with Damien about pummeling audiences into submission with drum solos; Teller and Simmons’ performances; films being too narrative-focused; what he’s doing next, and more. Check the full interview out below!

Whiplash Interview: Damien Chazelle

After five days of the typical film festival arthouse heartbreakers and soul-shakers, I began to feel a bit of emotional fatigue as I reached the halfway point of MVFF37. Mr. Turner, The Homesman, Clouds of Sils Maria–all fine films, but how much misery must a poor man endure! I’ve only so much to give! All jokes aside, I love a good understated film with slow-paced storytelling framed by painterly vistas, but after watching several of them in a row, I needed a good kick in the gut to wake me up. A jumpstart of sorts. That, my friends, is where Whiplash came to my rescue.

The Bald Meanie

Like I said, my gas tank was running on low on day 6 of the festival, but as I pulled up to Century Cinemas in Corte Madera, a few miles down highway 101 from Mill Valley, I knew I had a treat waiting for me inside the massive 600-seat theater. I’d seen Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash–starring Miles Teller and J.K. Simmons–a couple weeks prior and was getting pretty pumped up about watching the intense (I mean, intense) movie about a drummer’s devotion once again.

Chazelle was in attendance, posing humbly on the red carpet in front of the theater, as was Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, who chose to present the film as his selection in the festival’s Artists In Residence program starring he and his fellow bandmates. As Ulrich took the stage in front of the buzzing sea of eager festival-goers, he clarified once and for all that he didn’t choose to present Whiplash because it was a “drumming movie”, but because it was “a fucking good movie that happens to be about drumming!”

Right he is. The staggeringly cinematic film follows a student jazz drummer named Andrew (Teller) as he gets bullied and berated at the country’s most prestigious music school by its most notoriously brutal instructor, Fletcher (Simmons). Is Fletcher’s unrelenting, savage style of teaching meant to help Andrew achieve his dreams, or is he trying to make his life a living nightmare for the hell of it? Andrew’s pushed beyond his limits as he fights to keep his spot on the jazz ensemble, sacrificing blood, sweat, and tears on his single-minded quest for greatness.

A large portion of Whiplash unfolds in the practice rooms at Shafer, an intimate space where musicians are simply practicing music. But Chazelle and his team use dizzying, breathtaking camerawork and editing to make these scenes as intense and brutal as any horror or action movie you’ll see all year. Simmons’ frightening presence and Teller’s blazing musical performance (he did about 90% of the on-screen drumming), combined with Chazelle’s bravura filmmaking, make for a film whose intensity level is ungodly high. The film’s finale is so electrifying I forgot to breathe.

Help Me To Understand…

At the end of the day, I guess I am a glutton for punishment. Whiplash was a blast, but now I think it’s time to talk about a film that pushed my buttons and wound me up so much I could hardly bear it. Gett: The Trial of Viviane Amsalem takes place in modern day Israel, a place where there is no such thing as civil divorce. In order for a divorce to proceed, the man must give the final approval; the wife has no say. There are thousands of unhappy wives living in Israel today waiting for this law–which allows their husbands to essentially hold them hostage–to be amended.

Directed by siblings Shlomi and Ronit Elkabetz, who also stars as Viviane alongside Simon Abkarian in the role of her husband, Elisha, the film’s premise is simple: Viviane wants a divorce, Elisha says no. Almost the entire film takes place in a small court room in separate hearings that span five years, a brilliant device that engages the imagination (we never see their home life) and enrages to no end. Despite Viviane’s pleas and Elisha’s admittance to their marriage being unfulfilling, Viviane and the judges’ hands are tied by Elisha, whose refusals to grant divorce papers persist. The moral absurdity at play is infuriating, and with luck, Gett will help make change in Israels divorce policy. Fine performances and clever camerawork help to get across the important message at the film’s core.

While tales of the war zone that is online dating in our modern era are timely, the release date of the latest film to cover the subject, Two Night Stand, seems to be a bit off. Taking place between Christmas and New Years in snowy New York City, the distributors might have aimed for a winter release, capitalizing on the resolutions and expectations that soar at the New Year around romance. Enrollment on online dating sites certainly skyrocket during that time of year, and audiences might have welcomed a cheerful rom-com both commiserating and encouraging their resolve. Instead, it is September, and unfortunately Two Night Stand is a modern digital-era romance confusingly trying to capture the charm of the classic 90’s rom-com.

The film follows Megan (Analeigh Tipton) as she faces unemployment, a roommate (Jessica Szohr) with both a job and a boyfriend (Scott Mescudi aka Kid Cudi), and a recent breakup, all around the holidays. She decides to partake in online dating, a common enough practice among twenty-somethings. After a run-in with her ex, her roommate encourages her to find a hookup using the site, a one night stand. With a few glasses of wine in her, Megan reaches out and Alec (Miles Teller) responds. She asks him a few clarifying questions, mainly about the cleanliness of his apartment, before trekking to Brooklyn. The night goes as planned, but it’s the next morning that brings a challenge. After a terse morning-after conversation, wherein Megan and Alec decide they’d like never to see each other again, Megan descends to the street to find a snowstorm has trapped her at Alec’s. Faced with having to confront and converse with what was supposed to be a hookup partner and nothing more, the two exchange banter aplenty before deciding this may be their chance to give each other a little useful feedback.

In some ways, first time director Max Nichols accomplishes this strange 90’s throwback. Teller is a young Tom Hanks reincarnate but with enough of that fast-talking millennial edge. Tipton bats her eyes, and tips her head with a Meg Ryan quality, and she speaks many of her lines with an unintentional cuteness. While each seems inherently talented, the real problem is that the romantic dynamic of a You’ve Got Mail or a Sleepless in Seattle just doesn’t hold up in today’s contemporary hookup tradition. The most relatable parts of the film focus on the dishonesty around online dating, the embellishment and presentation one can manipulate in an online profile. But the film lacks in fully forming either Alec or Megan.

Alec spouts off his philosophy around ambition, his disinterest in being passionate about his career. The sort of manifesto one might expect from a millennial except that they’ve proven to be one of the most driven and passionate generations, not always around their careers, but around their well-defined values. Megan, on the other hand is current with her comfort discussing sex, and yet seems distressed with her first foray into online dating and hooking up. Additionally she’s also given a lot of failed young-people lingo lines–“I’ve been sexiled”–that completely discredits her.

While Mark Hammer’s dialogue keeps up the pace well throughout a film that mostly takes place within one apartment, it only slightly capitalizes on the meet-awkward scenario. And strangely, Megan and Alec’s fast-paced and open line of communication (a well-used and modern device) is revoked in the name of conflict for the film’s ending. Anyone feeling nostalgic for a 90’s rom-com ending will certainly be pleased with Two Night Stand’s outcome. Anyone wanting to commiserate around their own failed (or successful) online dating attempts will laugh in Two Night Stand’s face.

Nichols makes great use of footage from the giant snowstorm that hit New York last January, one can almost feel the arctic cold of it. And Megan’s layered clothing look (no seriously, she must be wearing 6 or 7) had this LA lady wishing for sweater weather. In the end, though, Two Night Stand won’t likely garner the same respect it’s 90’s rom-com subliminal inspirations enjoy, and is more a rentable film for a future snow day. Or an LA sick day, as it were.

Whiplash has been one of the biggest hits on the festival circuit so far this year, getting rave reviews from Sundance, Cannes, and from many audiences here in Toronto as well. And it’s pretty easy to see why: An impressive cast makes for an entertaining watch. But the film ultimately keeps its focus too shallow and stays within its comfort zone. A flimsy attempt at a love story could have been explored further for maximum impact, but it might as well have been nonexistent. One thing’s for sure; Whiplash will be the best film about drumming that you’ll see all year.

The up-and-coming Miles Teller portrays an aspiring drummer who will do whatever it takes to earn a spot on an élite ensemble. But to do that he must impress the unforgiving and impossible-to-please instructor, played by J.K. Simmons (who gives his best impression of the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket). One of the primary messages of Whiplash is about pushing people to their limits (and sometimes over their limits), that much is clear. But a particular “rushing or dragging” bit in one scene grew tiresome and repetitious despite its poignant intentions. The film’s energetic soundtrack and performances inspire an appreciation for the art of drumming, but as a whole Whiplash misses more than a few beats.

J.K. Simmons hurls chairs and slaps his drummer as abusive jazz instructor Terence Fletcher in the first clip from Sony Pictures Classics’ Whiplash. Winner of the Audience Award and Grady Jury Prize at this year’s Sundance Film Festival, Whiplash is Damien Chazelle‘s 2nd feature as director, but is already gaining hype following its strong debuts at Sundance and Cannes (from which you can read our review). With The Spectacular Now‘s Miles Teller in the role of a young drummer, many critics note that the film provides its other star, J.K. Simmons, a near-perfect vehicle for the former J. Jonah Jameson’s brand of half-screamed scolding.

Whiplash is set for limited release on October 10th this year, and some have J.K. Simmons and this film pegged as an outside contender for awards season. Watch the first clip below:

First Clip from Whiplash

Like the two previous Sundance hits, Whiplash goes through familiar emotional motions which prevent it from being the kind of sensation the Sundance buzz might make you think it is. But, there are two important ways it distances itself from Beasts Of The Southern Wild and Fruitvale Station. Firstly, it’s stylized enough to not have an air of forced importance in each shaky frame or gritty filter. Secondly, it’s very funny and comedy goes a long way. There was some commotion in Sundance when Buzzfeed’s Amanda Willmore stirred the gender pot and called the film out on its representation of women, and I can’t deny the truth in that. This is a boy’s film through and through, where mothers desert their children, girlfriends have no ambition, and girls have no place in famed musical courses. Leaving that major setback aside, for now, the film still uses a musical passion rarely given attention to and makes a highly enjoyable and invigorating film built around determination and pushed limits.

Andrew Neyman (Miles Teller) wants to be remembered as one of the greatest drummers to have lived and the film wastes no time in throwing you right into the thick of it. He is practicing a special double-tap technique with drums when one of Shaffer Conservatory of Music’s most feared and respected instructors, Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons), walks in to listen, observe, and see if Neyman would fit in his band. It’s quickly established that Fletcher’s version of listening and observing is criticizing and deriding thanks to an exceedingly high standard. However, Neyman’s determination and skill impresses Fletcher enough to give the 19-year old a shot, in preparation for an upcoming competition. Andrew’s strained relationship with his father (Paul Reiser), his efforts to have a relationship with Nicole (Melissa Benoist), and the dismissive way we find out that his mother deserted the family, are contextualized around his passion for being a drummer. Whiplash is about the lines dividing passion and obsession, the willingness of the spirit to never give up, and a highly flawed teaching principle.

There’s much to admire in Whiplash, and if audience reaction is used as measurement of a film’s success you’d think Whiplash was the greatest film out of Cannes, not just the Director’s Fortnight where the year’s Sundance hit usually lands. You’d have to be made of stone to not be swept up by the film’s  crescendo, an ending designed to put audiences into a frenzy. It’s only when hindsight kicks in that you realize some of the film’s messages get lost in the pandemonium of emotion. Fletcher is the vulgar, drill-seargent, hard-ass you love to hate, whose character shades do little to cover up deeply flawed principles, and yet, once you think the film acknowledges them it turns around and drops them like a bad habit. Luckily, we have character actor J.K. Simmons (channeling cinema’s toughest drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket) in a role that was made for his sharp wit (all he’s gotta do is close a door to make you laugh) and knack of going from intense to kind with a seamless flick of the switch. This is the closest he’ll ever get to Best Support Actor award consideration. But if you consider him, then Teller should get mention as well. He’s at his best when he’s behind the drum set and playing as if possessed by the ghost of Buddy Rich. Compared to his turn in the great The Spectacular Now, this performance shows that he’s growing and if he continues like this he’s going to be major.

The most admirable thing to take away from Whiplash is the balance of comedy and drama, and supported by two strong performances and award worthy editing from Tom Cross, is the young director at the helm; Damien Chazelle. He should be flooded with offers right about now, so don’t be surprised to hear how he’s going to be directing some kind of Spider-Man VS Godzilla spin-off, because at 28 years of age, Chazelle is by far the biggest star of the film. With an original screenplay brimming with quotable lines and memorable scenes (the “out of tune” episode is one of many uproarious highlights) and assured direction of a young man’s dissent into a dangerously taxing obsession, while effectively portraying the effects of psychological harassment, Chazelle will be one of the year’s biggest talking points (not unsimilar to Benh Zeitlin, but in my opinion, more deserved). However, we come back to the film’s flaws which the age, experience, and gender of the director make all the more understandable. Whiplash is immensely enjoyable to watch and listen to (the music is fantastic, as it must be) but the predictable emotional pushes and pulls, and the rather immature and dismissive representation of women in the film highlight the director’s inexperience. Nonetheless, he’s absolutely one to watch and for fans of J.K. Simmons, you’ve got your favorite movie in Whiplash.

With with young actresses emerging as bankable leads in sci-fi and action pictures, taking a bit of the pie from their hulking male counterparts, casting the right actress in those lead roles is more crucial than ever. Jennifer Lawrence has set a high standard with her work in the Hunger Games series, and Shailene Woodley holds her own as the star of Divergent, the first installment of adaptations of Veronica Roth’s best-selling YA series.

Woodley, a proven talent (The Spectacular Now, The Descendants), takes command of the film as our heroine Beatrice with a strong spine and perceptive wit. Unfortunately, even her presence (along with the rest of the rock-solid cast) can’t patch up the dull script, which is head-scratchingly nonsensical at worst, campy fun at best.

The aforementioned head-scratching begins with the film’s setting, a near-future dystopian Chicago divided into five distinct factions, each with their own role to play in maintaining an orderly, functioning society. This societal structure is so impractical it’s funny, though it serves its ultimate narrative purpose of providing rabid YA fanboys and girls with the same fantasy tribalism that was an appealing foundation for the Harry Potter series.

Beatrice was raised in the faction called Abnegation, an Amish-like group that prides itself on selflessness and humility. The kids in Dauntless, the enforcer faction whose members traverse the damaged city streets (and rooftops) like a parkour S.W.A.T. team, catches Beatrice’s eye as she shares their (ostensible) taste for adventure and camaraderie. Now that she’s turning 16, she’ll have the opportunity to switch factions, if she so pleases, after taking a VR test meant to suggest which caste she’s best suited to based on her attributes. Administering her test is a tattoo artist named Tori (Maggie Q), who informs her that her attributes are too numerous to shove her into any faction, an anomaly referred to as–you guessed it–Divergent.

Problem is, Divergents are considered a threat to society as they disrupt the order of the faction system. Erudite, the faction of intellectual snobs, hates Divergents the most, and their leader (Kate Winslet) seems hell-bent on sniffing them out and doing god-knows-what with them. (Probably something evil!)

Beatrice chooses to align with Dauntless, where she trims her name to Tris and gets thrown into a sort of bootcamp where the brutality of the training borders on felonious. She makes a handful of friends, bonding immediately with petit nice-girl Christina (Zoe Kravitz). Miles Teller plays a prick former Candor who bullies Tris at every turn, a dynamic made more interesting if you’ve seen the two co-star in The Spectacular Now.

Director Neil Burger (The Illusionist) is too precious with the source material, and the overwhelming amount of expositional information (conveyed largely in uninspired voiceover by Woodley) dampens any urgency and drama the actors manage to get rolling. For every well-acted, emotional minute between Woodley and her co-stars, there are 10 hollow minutes of tiresome explaining. The art design is forgettable and generic, and the world Roth has built doesn’t seem to be grounded in any sort of logic. Most of Chicago is literally crumbling to bits, while the yuppies in Erudite walk around in buildings that look as immaculate as giant Apple stores. This is the most obtuse kind of social commentary, since the logistics of it all don’t make any sense. Roth’s analogy is too extreme, too undercooked.

The hunky Theo James plays Four, Tris’ commander and crush. Woodley and James have good chemistry, but again, the script betrays them. When Tris glimpses a bit of Four’s back tattoo, and he peels off his shirt to show her the rest of it without a second thought, it’s hard not to let out a little groan. At one point, Tris proclaims proudly, “I am Divergent!” as Burger zooms in slowly. She might as well be looking straight into the camera. It’s schlock like this that no actor, no matter how skilled, can recite naturally.

Divergent is too by-the-book, literally and figuratively (and ironically), for it to be a viable challenger to Hunger Games‘ throne atop the YA market, but it’s got some thrilling set pieces (an urban zipline scene is a standout) and has a great cast, making it a distant–but solid–second. Divergent is chock-full of holes, but Woodley and her bright band of co-stars try valiantly to save the day.

Divergent trailer

This past Wednesday, Divergent, the next potential YA phenomenon from Summit Entertainment based on the popular Veronica Roth book series, premiered in San Francisco with stars Maggie Q and Mekhi Phifer in attendence. The film, about a daring girl named Tris (Shailene Woodley) who discovers she’s “divergent”, meaning she doesn’t fit into any of the five factions that make up her city (a post-apocalyptic Chicago) like everyone else. The film also stars Kate Winslet, Theo James, Miles Teller, Ansel Elgort, and Zoe Kravitz.

The franchise already has a ravenous fan base going in to the first film of the series, and with a talented cast of young talents and seasoned vets in tow, Divergent has a strong chance of setting itself apart in the sea of YA contenders vying for the attention of young fanatics. We’ll see the film’s full impact on March 21st, when it releases nationwide.

Check out photos from the red carpet below, and stay tuned for our chat with Maggie Q and Mekhi Phifer coming soon.

Considering James Ponsoldt’s first two films (Off the Black, Smashed) deal with alcoholism, it comes as no surprise that the subject is also baked into his third film, The Spectacular Now. This time around the theme is buried underneath the surface of a high school coming-of-age film that demonstrates there is more to life than living in the spectacular now. There is more to appreciate than to despise in The Spectacular Now, largely due to the outstanding performances from the two leads that transcend the film beyond just an ordinary young adult drama.

The Spectacular Now begins not unlike other of high school dramas, with an 18-year-old named Sutter (Miles Teller) recalling how the love of his life Cassidy (Brie Larson) recently broke up with him. Everyone in the school thought they were the perfect couple and together they were the life of every party. After a long night of partying in an attempt to free his mind from his recent breakup, Sutter wakes up on a random lawn to the sound of a timid girl named Aimee (Shailene Woodley) calling his name. Aimee recognizes Sutter from school, but the familiarity is not mutual. As with most high school stories the popular student is completely unaware the quiet nerdy student even exists. However, instead of viewing her as solely a rebound girl (like what typically happens before realizing they are good together) he takes a genuine interest in her from the very beginning.

Sutter is known as the sarcastic class clown at school and the person everyone wants to be around at parties. He subscribes to the ‘living in the now’ philosophy, though to a punishing fault. His literal interpretation of this viewpoint means that he takes absolutely nothing seriously. Slowly he begins to realize that his classmates not only think he is the class joker, but also someone who is destined to go nowhere in life. The ultimate eye-opener for him is when he meets his father for the first time since he was a child only to discover he does not want to windup like him.

When you first see Sutter drinking alcoholic beverages at parties you do not think much of it. After all, it is a somewhat socially acceptable occurrence regardless of the fact he is underage. It is when he busts out his flask seemingly everywhere (including his job!) that we begin to notice a much larger issue at hand. And so does he. Because of Aimee he begins to think about consequences for the first time.

Both of the main character’s weaknesses stem from their strengths. Sutter’s flaws are easily seen in plain sight, living in the moment without ever thinking about his actions. But his shortcomings are not as exasperating as Aimee’s are because he is a troubled teen who is smarter than he appears; whereas Aimee seems to contradict her intelligence by repeatedly making poor decisions. While her unconditional affection towards Sutter is inspiring most of the time, her willingness to always look the other way, turn the other cheek, and to forgive everything he does can be frustrating to watch. Specifically, there is an incident late in the film that would have been a wake up call for most people, or at the very least a chance for her character to stand up for herself for once. In the grand scheme of things however these are admittedly only minor complaints to otherwise enjoyable characters.

Because the story has so much depth to it—much more than your typical teenage drama—it is easy to tell The Spectacular Now is based on a novel. Each character in the film has a specific purpose not only to the story, but meaningfully intricate to one another as well. For these reasons it is easy to compare this production to The Perks of Being a Wallflower, another come-of-age story that successfully transitioned from novel to film.

Credit the writing for creating a redeeming character that makes you want to reach out to stop him from ruining his life, but also for allowing the character to be smart enough to so himself. You must also give credit to the two main leads who help make some of the familiar plot devices feel fresh again. Far too many teenage dramas are content with staying within the boundaries of the schoolyard, in this case placing all the focus on Sutter’s temptations with getting back together with his ex. Fortunately, The Spectacular Now introduces a darker side of the film that helps separate it from its competition.

The Spectacular Now trailer