Stonewall, an uncomfortably inaccurate historical drama directed by Roland Emmerich, is such a confused, misguided, scatterbrained movie that it’s hard to decide where to begin in assessing its shortcomings (it comes up short on almost every front). It’s about the immensely important June 1968 Stonewall Inn riots, the single greatest breakthrough in gay activism—but really, it isn’t. Emmerich sullies and smudges that moment in history so crudely (and ironically) with Hollywood stereotypes, clichés, and ham-fisted filmmaking that it’s crystal clear, without a doubt, that he’s missed the point entirely.

One of the defining characteristics of the riots was that it was led in large part by people of color. Some of these key figures are represented in the movie, like Marsha P. Johnson (Otoja Abit), founder of Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries, but they’re relegated to minor (offensively minor) roles. Tragically, at the center of Emmerich and screenwriter Jon Robin Baitz’s rendition of the story is a fictional, white, Midwestern man named Danny, played by English actor Jeremy Irvine. It’s a choice that lacquers the film with a thick coating of inauthenticity. We follow Danny as he plays proxy for ignorant white audiences, running away from his small Indiana town after being outed and yelled at by his homophobic, football-coach dad. Danny heads straight for New York City’s gay community epicenter, Christopher Street, where he’s taken in by a group of wild street kids.

Jonny Beauchamp plays Ray, a born leader and firestarter and Danny’s primary liaison. Vying for Danny’s affection is a quietly charming, manipulative gay rights activist played by Jonathan Rhys Meyers, whose 3rd-floor apartment overlooks the street kids’ stoop and the Stonewall Inn. The supporting players are universally bland, their actors (mostly talented) underserved. Caleb Landry Jones has been carving out quite a fascinating career on the independent scene in recent years, but his turn here as a trans stereotype in no way helps his career along.

The film flashes back occasionally to Indiana and Danny’s falling-out with his family, which is as generic a coming-out story you’ll ever hear (though Danny’s accepting little sister, played by Joey King, offers some genuine sweetness). Other than the dark cloud of the homophobic, abusive NYPD hanging over the movie, there’s the imposing presence of Ron Perlman’s Ed Murphy, a dangerous quasi-pimp of pretty boys like Danny. Oh, and Danny’s attending night school at Columbia while he waits anxiously for his parents to send in papers to secure the scholarship he’s worked so hard for.

Emmerich seems totally disoriented as he zips from plot thread to plot thread, never sure about which one to concentrate on. Nothing takes priority and the greatest loss as a result of his confusion is that the riots themselves, which lasted for days in real life, only last for one night and don’t get much focus at all. It’s a big miss on Emmerich’s part and it left an awful taste in my mouth. Perhaps the most disgusting moment comes when Danny, the “white savior” himself, starts the riot with a corny, ADR battle cry of “Gay POWER!” and a brick through a window. Emmerich has said he included the character of Danny because he had to tell the story of Stonewall from his (white) perspective, which is troubling in itself, but this slow-motion moment of heroism makes his statement even uglier.

Speaking of ugly, the movie looks atrocious. Emmerich and cinematographer Markus Förderer seem to be going for a vintage, newsreel feel, but the aesthetic is ruined with environments and interiors that reek of artificiality. The sets are too pristinely lit, the costumes look like they came from a high school theater classroom, the shots are unremarkable—Stonewall looks like a bargain-bin musical adaptation, not a tribute to a gay activism triumph.

The movie was, according to Emmerich, made for straight, white people, a sort of crash course in the history and nature of the gay rights movement. It’s obvious, after watching this thing, that he’s made a big mistake; instead of sending blaring, dim-witted messages to white America like an ignoramus over-enunciating to a deaf child, maybe he should have just told the true story. Then, maybe people might have listened.

As the LGBT rights movement continues to make huge strides in America, it feels like a fitting time to start to look back at the many battles fought by this ostracized and abused group of people. One such historical turning point is the Stonewall riots of 1969 in New York City, the violence and passion of which inspired the greater LGBT community to rally and get organized in their efforts for equality and safety.

Now we have a stirring first trailer for Roland Emmerich’s Stonewall, a film following a fictional young gay man, played by Jeremy Irvine, forced to flee his home when his sexual orientation proves too much for his friends and family, who ends up on the streets of Greenwich Village, NYC. He befriends a group of people made up of young gays, lesbians, and drag queens who introduce him to the Stonewall Inn, a gay-friendly mafia-run club and safe-haven. But eventually even their safe space starts to be regularly raided by the NYPD, who harass the people there. The historical consequence to this constant persecution was an eruption of rage in the form of two days of riots and a kick-off of the modern LGBT movement.

Though not the first film version of this important historical event, it certainly feels like the man who gave us Independence Day, Stargate, and The Patriot is a seasoned pro at igniting pride, and this two-minute trailer is plenty inspiring. The film also stars Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Joey King, and Ron Perlman and will be released in theaters September 25.

The “aging action hero” trend that is all the rage today is a blessing and a curse for me. I grew up watching most of these guys in the ’80s, so it’s great to see the action stars of my youth still going strong today. That said, many of the films they make today leave much to be desired in terms overall quality, often heavily relying on the name recognition of the star as a strategy for success. Coming into my screening of Skin Trade, I had concerns. A good action film is challenging to make under the best of circumstances, but with an independent budget, that challenge is exponentially greater. Plus, the film’s star, Dolph Lundgren, might have his roots in old school action films (The Punisher, Universal Soldier), but he has neither the name recognition nor the resume to carry a film like Stallone or Schwarzenegger.

In Skin Trade, Lundgren plays Nick Cassidy, a New Jersey detective on the hunt for Serbian crime lord Viktor Dragovic (Ron Perlman). Dragovic and his four sons run a massive human trafficking ring out of Bangkok. When Nick kills one of Dragovic’s sons, the mobster retaliates by killing Nick’s wife and daughter. With nothing left to live for and nothing to lose, Nick travels to Thailand to seek revenge.

It’s there Nick meets Tony Vitayakul (Tony Jaa), a Bangkok cop looking to bust up the same ring. Nick and Tony’s early encounters aren’t very friendly, though, and making matters more difficult for them is FBI Agent Eddie Reed (Michael Jai White). Reed is sent to Thailand to retrieve the vengeful Nick, but the agent might have ulterior motives of his own.

My concerns, for the most part, were unfounded. Skin Trade, from director Ekachai Uekrongtham, is a solid action flick that does a good job blending old and new styles of action while sticking to the fundamentals of the genre.

From the (old) West comes that ’80s style of shoot ’em up/run ’em down/beat ’em up action, including an obligatory (yet still effective) scene in a shipyard at nighttime. Lundgren, no less barrel-chested at 57 than he was at 27, is in his element here. He’s a cop with a singular focus who can run, fight, and shoot. Once his family is killed he becomes the vengeful anti-hero, a construct that is the stuff of ’80s classics. Top it off with a gruff police captain played by action veteran Peter “Robocop” Weller and it’s a fine homage.

From the (new) East comes Jaa and that modern style of fast-paced, up-close martial arts combat. Jaa’s opening gambit is a great one-against-many fight sequence in one room that ends the way most American action films won’t but many Asian ones do. Satisfying to watch, particularly early in the film, though I won’t spoil it with specifics. Also keeping with Asian action themes is a grittier, more exploitative tale than many western counterparts would tell.

On their own, these two heroes are entertaining. Once they get together—deep into the film and in no way via an action equivalent of a meet-cute—they are terrific. They have a chemistry between them that works, their styles complement each other without trying too hard, and, with nearly a foot difference in height between them, they’re an amusing duo.

From a technical perspective, director Uekrongtham and editor Victor Du Bois do a very good job staging, framing, shooting, and cutting the film to maximize their leads’ strengths while minimizing the effects of the stars’ ages.

That aside, two things greatly hinder the film from being the next great action find (a la last year’s John Wick). The first is the script. Lundgren co-wrote the screenplay with Gabriel Dowrick and Steven Elder, neither of whom have a feature screenwriting credit to their name prior to this. It shows. While the trio understand how to properly construct and combine the contrasting action styles, the weak plot and clunky dialogue suggest they all watched a lot of action movies and simply mimicked.

The film’s other hinderance is its villain. He’s straight out of central casting with no injection of originality whatsoever. Perlman—who got his start in the ’80s—does the best he can with the character (and his kind of Slavic accent), but the veteran actor has very little to work with.

I had a lot of fun watching Skin Trade, and if they make a sequel where Lundgren and Jaa are in the film together from the beginning, I’m buying tickets.