A tarot reader becomes obsessed with the feeling that a terrible misfortune is going to happen and will do anything to prevent it.
In all actuality, “Just Mercy” should be labeled a “wall punching narrative.” Constantly, the flick throws high forms of adversity our way, amping up our most inner levels of discomfort. Filmmaker Destin Daniel Cretton wonderfully paces the film in such a way that replicates the slow-burn nature of justice.
Like millions around the world, I've been waiting four years for the renowned #SnyderCut. I'll never forget sitting in the theater on opening night, witnessing a CGI mouth on Henry Cavill's face about five seconds into Justice League. That's a thing of nightmares if I must say. Anyways, right then and there, I knew I desperately needed Zack Snyder's film.
The Invitation takes a creeping look at two simple premises: reuniting with forgotten friends and new-age spiritualism. Though one seems a bit scarier than the other, the film heightens social awkwardness to a macabre level that puts an uncomfortable look on when the social taboo of grief is put on public display.
"WHAT ARE YOU WILLING TO SACRIFICE?!!!!" "EVERYTHING!!!!!" This is but one of a multitude of highly emphatic questions, and subsequent answers, being asked in the newest feature film from one of the current masters of horror, Jordan Peele ("Get Out", "Us" and "Nope"). I must give Peele credit in that he continues to push the boundaries of specific genres and their associated tropes in order to provide what ends up amounting to subtly then jarringly intense, yet still character and story-driven, cinema that speaks more to indie stylings than mainstream.
"Thunder Road" presents the grief that comes from a family member taking their own life.
Him is visually stunning—all concrete cathedrals and bone-rattling impact shots that look like a nightmare highlight reel. Marlon Wayans is magnetic as this legendary quarterback who's basically selling salvation with a smile that never quite reaches his eyes. But the story keeps running in circles: more tests, more cryptic pep talks, more ritualistic drills. The sports-as-religion metaphor beats you over the head when subtlety would've been more effective. The middle drags, and that finale chooses spectacle over substance. It's undeniably stylish, but left me cold. Also worth noting: despite the Monkeypaw connection, this isn't actually a Jordan Peele film—he didn't write or direct.
