Lockout (2012)

 

Personality Forgives Lockout's Derivative Stupidity

by Kristin Battestella

In 2079 when a breakout at the orbital MS One Maximum Security Prison endangers the President's daughter Emilie Warnock (Maggie Grace), Secret Service Chief Scott Langrel (Peter Stormare) sends framed ex-CIA agent Snow (Guy Pearce) to the space station to rescue Emilie amid airlock perils, shootouts, and insane inmates. Cryogenic conspiracies, stolen intel, and betrayals acerbate the escape as degrading orbits and ticking clocks countdown toward space battles, free falls, and revelations.

The first five minutes of 2012's Lockout are outstanding with humorous interrogations, spy intrigue, and character introductions setting the situation via intercut editing that matches every beat, quip, and punch. From cigarettes and lighters to guns and MacGuffins, everything has its place. We love the good guys, seethe at the bad guys, and are immediately invested in the adventure to come. Unfortunately, this entertaining start is followed by an unnecessary and ridiculously cartoonish motorcycle chase with terrible effects, fake highways, blurred movement, and nonsensical action so off putting and beyond amateur it's enough to immediately tune out on Lockout. No one trust anyone thanks to set ups, former and current CIA agents versus Secret Service authorities, clever clues, and scrambled memories making for gibberish and riddles. Exposition explaining the space station and unstable suspended animation slows the suspenseful chases, dangerous zones, colorful characters, and entertaining inmates – and this back and forth on the good and bad is indicative of numerous problems throughout the film. Secret experiments on prisoners, government bureaucracy, and global corporations up to no good may be important, but any shady controversies and deeper commentary are a superfluous second to the spectacle. Pieces of other films crowd Lockout, and calling this derivative is generous thanks to a laugh worthy “Based on an Original Idea by Luc Besson” credit and the subsequent lawsuit awarding John Carpenter for the obvious thievery from Escape from New York and Escape from L.A. Why not just have a framed agent en route to a space penal colony with a female reporter as disaster ensue? Although the inmate assaults and multi front attacks are intense, the bomb run to blow up the station dogfights are totally Star Wars. Viewers go along with contrived communications, medical trackers, and convenient maps because we'd shout at the television if people inexplicably knew where to go and what to do otherwise. The bookend heists aren't bad, but the original espionage is shoehorned in with reiterated clues underestimating the audience, and a thrilling adrenaline rush free fall finale has us yelling at the screen once more. Yes, it is actually possible to parachute from space, even though several have died doing so rather than landing safely on earth with the girl as Lockout would have us believe.

But you know, why are the villains Scottish? Joe Gilgun's (This is England) Hydell is wild, scuzzy, lusty, and creepy. He's impulsive, on edge, and a loose cannon jeopardizing every situation. Although the stupidity of a bodyguard with a concealed weapon in a restricted area is more to blame, Hydell's thieving smarts orchestrate the breakout. He presses the wrong buttons, shoots people at random, blasts consoles, prematurely sends a man out an airlock, and doesn't listen to his big brother Vincent Regan (300). Alex is the much smarter inmate, taking charge and making demands. He knows the hostages are the key to their escape, and though he talks to a negotiator, Alex will kill to prove his authority and slap sense into his baby brother. Scene chewing Peter Stormare's (Prison Break) gruff Secret Service Chief Langrel also enjoys taking over and flashing his credentials. He moves people how he wants but keeps information close to the vest. Langrel's only forthcoming in his hatred for Snow, and it's fun guessing what side he's on since he has no problem putting national security above anything else. Lennie James (The Walking Dead) on the other hand, is more forgiving of Snow as CIA suit Harry Shaw, offering devices, opportunity, and communication support as needed. Of course, he also wants Lockout's MacGuffin and needs Snow's help to get it. Once wounded and scared, Maggie Grace's (Taken) Emilie relies on Snow, too, but she has a few resources up her sleeve. Most importantly, unlike today's increasingly younger leading ladies, she's believable as an educated woman in a humanitarian position exposing shady cryogenic practices. Emilie's not afraid to speak out or act high and mighty about the hostages, but she has been sheltered as the president's daughter and it's upsetting to her that people have died for or because of her VIP treatment. Though in over her head, Emilie gets under Snow's skin, giving his humor and sarcasm back in cute moments where viewers expect a kiss and instead get punches in the face. Rather than romance, Emilie's kind of annoyed at being rebuffed. She's used to getting her way, and for all it's obvious lifting on other IPs, Lockout doesn't underestimate the audience with a weak, immature Mary Sue.

Truly, however, the only reason Lockout is worth watching is for Guy Pearce and Guy Pearce alone. Snow's dry charm, sardonic over it, and admittance that the whole thing is shit and he doesn't want to be there give Lockout it's repeat entertainment value. He could have phoned it in, but it's genius that Pearce keeps Snow self-aware rather than a heroic caricature. He smokes when everyone tells him not to and calls out the increasingly preposterous, giving guff back to the authorities and telling the big wigs to make up their minds. Their counting down to rush him into doing something won't help him get it done, but he'll flirt when he has the chance. To Snow, mouth to mouth is foreplay and he preferred the girl when she was dead and not hitting him in the head with a fire extinguisher. Although Snow's conveniently well versed in spacewalks, our ex-CIA agent is afraid of heights, misses jumps, and falls flat on his face. He's grossed out by needles and drinks the rubbing alcohol because he's cranky, sore, and too old for this. He was after all, the only jerk stupid enough to say yes to this mission. Snow's “Warning: Offensive” t-shirt confirms his insistence that he doesn't like anybody, but despite deflecting quips and shrewd punchlines – literally – he does grieve his friends. For all his bluster, Snow looks out for others at risk to himself, and when not playing dumb or deflecting with an acerbic wisecrack, he spots clues others don't or improvises on the spot. Serious moments partly explain his jadedness; people who have nothing to sacrifice can easily play saint while others get the wrap for things they didn't do or die while the supposedly more important folks take cover. Nonetheless, Snow says he has a rescue to do and did it well he might add – a meta wink as Pearce elevates every scene with surprisingly relevant asides that say exactly what the audience is thinking. Snow didn't have to be such a multi-faceted character, but his unique relatability saves Lockout. Is Pearce is so deliciously buff because he carries the movie? 🤣 Today this would be an ongoing franchise no matter how bad or cliché, and Lockout should have had a sequel thanks to Pearce's pithy performance alone.

Woeful motorcycle chase aside, Lockout's special effects and orbital action are surprisingly well done. Assorted spacecraft battles and station designs look the part thanks to panoramic flybys, retro corridors, picturesque windows, perilous elevators, and dark crawlspaces. Industrial platforms, cell block levels, and maze like interiors make the structure's scale and crowded inmate violence believable while flickering lights and flashing sirens accent steaming radiation zones and frozen airlocks. Granted the cyan patina and orange jumpsuits make for that pleasing, oft seen palette, but in Lockout the lighting scheme feels space authentic not over-saturated. Injuries look like they hurt, and although the medical procedures might not be accurate, the needle through the eye jump start looks cool – creating suspense with practical realism and future improbable just like the zero-gravity mano y mano. Of course, the special effects, gun fire, and action are very loud and the dialogue is soft or not always clear without subtitles. Overly heroic music cues are also on the nose as if Lockout is some grand epic not a cliche yarn. The contrived collision with the International Space Station is amusing, too. Do we really think the ISS will be going strong for another fifty years with the same recognizable old modules and tenuous treaties? Bulky spacesuits and once clever but already passe items like computerized hidden camera glasses and touch screen table surfaces provide chuckles, and the equipment meant to look old holds up better. Ironically, the on set footage in the behind the scenes features on the Lockout blu-ray is pretty fun. It's bemusing to hear the crew talk about that damn motorcycle scene, and Pearce is so gracious in saying he enjoys relying on his imagination to perform a technical challenge. It's okay, Guy, you can tell us if it felt damn silly leaning left and right while being held up by a crew member wearing green screen pajamas. The ending shot for Lockout, however, is unforgivable. Maybe it's supposed to be walking into the sunset of a dim future cityscape, but I'll be darn if it doesn't look like they are just walking off set where the backdrop ends.

A few minutes difference for violence cuts, squishing sounds, and extra blood squibs make a barely discernible change between the PG-13 theatrical version of Lockout and its Unrated blu-ray release. Lockout lifts from hard old school science fiction yarns but who is the audience when today's teens don't care about those R rated throwbacks? Mishmash storylines that could have been tweaked for the better rely on copycat material, and tune out worthy bad CGI is laughable in all the wrong ways. Lockout is an excellent example of how problematic plotting and preposterous flaws draw viewers out of otherwise fine world building, yet this is also the perfect statement on what performance can do. This is a great late night half pay attention to the best parts flick thanks to fun characterizations and likable personality that keep Lockout entertaining even when it doesn't deserve it.

Home Sweet "House" Horrors

 

Home Sweet “House” Horrors

by Kristin Battestella

These contemporary horrors both foreign and domestic tackle suburban scares, refugee horrors, technological terrors, family vengeance, and home haunts. Dust off the welcome mat!

His House – Horror follows a Sudanese couple relocating to England in this 2020 Netflix release starring Wunmi Mosaku (Loki), Sope Dirisu (Black Mirror), and Matt Smith (Doctor Who). Perilous refugee boats begat detention, weekly asylum stipulations, and finally a newly assigned address – a dirty tenement they are lucky to have all to themselves. Despite having already been through so much, our couple laughs until they cry over their gratitude, hopeful for a new start before eerie echoes and shadows that move by themselves suggest there is more afoot than faulty electricity, peeling wallpaper, and holes in the plaster. Well done lighting schemes and dim sunlight through small windows create a moody palette for the background apparitions, ominous hands, kitchen oddities, and eyes watching from within the walls. Flashes of past troubles, childhood fears of the night witch coming to get them, and new scary experiences build tension. Husband and wife both have encounters they don't admit, and tearful conversations with dark door frames in the background put the viewer on edge with our characters. We think we see or hear something rather than having everything given away thanks to flashlights, masks, tool mishaps, and disorienting figures in the dark. Cultures clash amid the horrors as our refugees struggle to be part of the community, reluctant to use tableware and getting lost in the maze of lookalike attached houses. Cruel neighborhood kids shout “Go back to Africa” and a kind but clueless doctor doesn't know how to listen to the pain of tribal wars, butchered families, and doing what you have to do to survive. Our couple insists they are good people but must remain on guard against deep seeded racism even in such crappy conditions. Lazy office workers complain that their falling apart house is “bigger than mine” so they shouldn't be dissatisfied and “biting the hand that feeds them” – forcing the fearful to retract any moving request and hide the truth about apeth witches and ghostly torments. Although the Dinka dialogue is unfortunately not always translated, it's superb that this is told from the appropriate angle. This isn't a yuppie white couple choosing to ignore the spooky house warnings just to get out of the city and play unreliable scares with the audience. Eerie visuals, surreal waters, fog, and candlelight visions combine the personal horrors, supernatural, and real world frazzled as the demands to repay what they owe escalates from wet footprints and flickering light switches to monsters in the floor. Deceptive happy moments and psychological experiences take us to other places without leaving the congested house – reliving why with upsetting revelations that can only be put right with blood. This is a tender story about living with your demons; an excellent example of why horror from other perspectives need to be told.

The Housemaid – Covered furniture, candlelight, staircases, slamming doors, and screams get right to the gothic afoot in this 2016 Vietnamese tale. The grand French plantation in disrepair is out of place among the beautiful forests – reeking with a deadly history of cruel overseers, abused workers, shallow graves, and angry spirits. Rumors of mad wives, dead babies, decaying corpses, drownings, and bodies never found provide horror as the titular newcomer obediently does the housework during the day before the power goes out at night. It's forbidden to speak of the dark family history, and mirrors, lanterns, and dramatic beds infuse the creepy with Jane Eyre mood. Arguments over sending for a distant doctor or using Eastern medicine for the wounded man of the house give way to sheer bed curtains, sunlight streaming through the window, and a touch of Rebecca in the steamy fireside romance. Unfortunately, a snotty, two-faced, racist rival addresses the awkwardness of the help pretending to be the lady of the house amid resentful servants, war intrigue, classism, and the vengeful ghostly Mrs. roaming the halls. The cradle draped in black rocks by itself, but it's only for effect as jump scare whooshes, flying furniture, roar faces in the mirror, dream fake outs, old photos research, and visions of the past create an uneven contemporary intrusion when the period atmosphere is enough. Roaming in the scary woods just for the sake of bones and panoramic ghouls is unnecessary when we should never leave the congested house. Indeed, the horrors are superior when anyone trying to leave the manor encounters a terrible but deserving end. Questionable retellings, confusing ghostly revenge, disbelieving interrogations, and flashbacks within flashbacks play loose with point of view, but a not so unforeseen twist clarifies the demented duty over love begating the horror. Some viewers may be disappointed that the movie trades one kind of horror for another and has too many but wait there's more endings. This has its faults and uses western horror motifs as needed to appear more mainstream rather than low budget foreign film. However, the social statement characterizations are much better than formulaic Hollywood scares, and the throwback Hammer feeling, period accents, and gothic mood combine for a unique horrors and drama.

Retro Bonus

The House by the Cemetery – Director Lucio Fulci's (The Black Cat) 1981 splatterfest starts with broken tombstones, an abandoned manor, and a topless babe fooling around among the cobwebs before bodies on hooks, sexually suggestive blades through the mouth, and bright red gore with intense zooms and pulsing organ chords to match. This is only eighty-seven minutes but after the fine prologue precious time is wasted with location resets, past murder/suicide exposition, new colleagues continuing the house research, visions of bloody mannequins, and terrible dubbing for a creepy kid unfortunately named Bob. Thankfully there's a certain self-aware humor as the real estate agent runs over a “damn tombstone” and details regarding the original homeowner, ahem, Doctor Freudstein come to light. Over the top crescendos and intercut flashes indicating horror connections are expected, but while preposterous, the frenetic bat attacks are well done with screeching sound effects, stabbings, lots of blood, and disturbing splatter hitting a child in the face. Photographs have an ominous girl in the window one moment then gone the next, and the bizarre kids are wise to the freaky and/or paranormal while the clueless parents argue amid layered suggestions, frazzled screams, and suspect glances with the beautiful babysitter. Antique clutter and noises in the night lead to nailed shut doors, inlaid headstones in the floor hidden under a rug, ghostly rattlings, and scary basements. Eerie lighting and practical gore add to the mayhem, fireplace pokers, and freaky eyes in the darkness; however Victorian flashbacks, repetitive if chilling scares, nonsensical padding that goes on too long, and late tape recorder research montages (when the whole thing was supposed to be about researching the house history) are certainly confusing. Coherent plots aren't as important as being scary cool, and this is exactly what contemporary formulaic horror does right down to the remote control car for jump scares. Fortunately, the haunts, monsters, nasty smells, maggots, and butchered revelations are so grotesque we don't even care why. Heads roll in a wild finale, and we recoil even as we chuckle at the dated derivatives and our subsequent modern knockoffs. This is an entertaining midnight watch for the head scratching bemusements and the horror it gets right.

Split Decision

Our House – Town panoramas, vintage vinyl, and the happy dinner table open this 2018 remake of the 2010 movie Ghost from the Machine, but our college son inventor puts projects before his parents' wishes. More overhead locales and driving to the lab montages waste precious moments when starting with the gadgets and a line about his family not understanding his electromagnetic induction theories would suffice. Despite the high tech possibilities and recent gear, the experiments have a nice eighties low tech touch with light bulbs, knobs, and dials. Family tragedy strikes, but the drama moves so fast we can't enjoy the personal dilemmas as the eldest struggles to raise his younger siblings three months later and the middle brother blames him for their parents' deaths. Unfortunately, yet more silent driving montages and aerial transitions make the concept thin; filler leaving dialogue and actual interactions too short. Spinning equipment and clicking machinery intercut with writing on the mirror and little girls talking to imaginary friends are fine suspense, but there isn't that much ominous smoke in the experiment nor all that many strange occurrences. It's understandable if the children are jumping to hopeful conclusions in their grief, but the daughter is only a swimmer for derivative bathroom timers and water frights when the mad science possibility is enough without shoehorned scares. An inventor trying to contact unseen energies is reluctant to consider any ghostly communications until an obligatory internet research montage and hair on the arms standing up electromagnetic explanations dumb down the fantastic. Amplifying events with loud crescendos drags the last half hour as the spirited metaphors are lost to typical horror shadows and whooshes – forgetting any internal logic for contrived neighborly detours and solving past house crimes. Even those annoying town scene transitions disappear as apparent post production changes thematically damage the family drama and any horror or science fiction grief. Not bothering to study the original experiment video for three months provides convenient revelations in the final act before getting the details from the old lady next door, making the end different from what this says on the tin yet predictable horror nonetheless. Perhaps this is fine for horror lite fans but there was potential for a deeper examination rather than typical scares underestimating the human connection.

Skip It

A Haunted House – I'm not a fan of found footage films, so this 2013 horror comedy parody from Marlon Wayans (Scary Movie) mocking the genre seemed like it would be fun. Plain text warnings of recovered recordings, assorted camera angles, and onscreen timestamps open the winks as the new camera and young couple moving in together don't mix thanks to his dog, her boxes, his arcades games, and her dad's ashes. Affection, sass, and bemusing stuffed animal foreplay are ruined by hair in curlers, open bathroom doors, and awful farts in the night – making for refreshingly real relationships and humor. No blind spots in the video coverage means catching the maid up to some saucy, and racist, voyeuristic security camera guys want your passwords. Fetishizing friends want to swap, the gay psychic wants to know if they've had same sex encounters – all the white people are envious opportunists and that's nice to see in a genre so often dominated by such caucasity. Sleepwalk dancing and what happens during the night silliness caught on camera escalates with getting high and mocking the usual sheets, smoky imagery, whooshing, and Ouija boards. Our couple jumps to conclusions about the haunting over noises, misplaced keys, doors moving by themselves, and kitchen mishaps, but neither is a catch and a lot of incidents are more about their own faults and problems. They probably shouldn't be together horror or not, and some of the not addressing their own issues is too on the nose serious or uneven alongside the humor. The misogyny is akin to women often being haunted and not believed in horror, but nothing is scary because the overtly comedic attempts are out of place against the formulaic encounters. There's an imaginary friend, pervert ghost, demons, a deal with the devil for Louboutins, and the final act is an old hat exorcism meets Poltergeist parody crowded with male ghost rapacious and more unnecessary homophobic jokes. There's promise in how the camera brings out the voyeur in us all, changing us once we're in front of it by revealing our true selves or why we're weary of the lens. A taut eighty minutes with bemusing commentary on the genre's flaws could have been a watchable, but the dumb and offensive shtick goes on for far too long – becoming the monotonous horror movie it's trying to send up thanks to a surprising lack of personality.

Science Fiction Meets Comedy!

 

Science Fiction meets Comedy

by Kristin Battestella

From all out parody to quirkiness and cosmic puns, each of these retro, recent, or blockbuster science fiction tales provide an element of humorous entertainment.

Return of the Killer Tomatoes – It's tomato prohibition in this 1988 sequel to Attack of the Killer Tomatoes starring Anthony Starke (The Magnificent Seven), George Clooney (Michael Clayton), and John Astin (The Addams Family). Self-aware late night movie hosts almost air Big Breasted Girls Go to the Beach and Take Their Tops Off instead, adding then PG-13 saucy to the MST3King itself meta before it was meta. The secret word of the day is “the,” creating an impossible drinking game to match the preposterous Professor Gangreen mad science, lab experiments, tomato tests, and pizzas with some, umm, interesting topping combinations sans tomatoes. The younger generation rolls their eyes at elders treating The Great Tomato war as some St. Crispin's Day glory, flashbacks captioned as “New York City” have San Francisco trolley cars, and call ins ask why they keep showing scenes from the first movie. There are world domination plans to place plants from within the police right up to president, and bad special effects, red lights, green glows, a fuzzy friendly tomato, and a snake named Larry join the handsome assistant Igor. Reporters shame and berate witnesses on the air yet everyone wants to be on camera, and romantic interludes on the beach get ruined by a mime as the fourth wall is often broken thanks to tomato bootleggers, Valerian root powder, and inquires on if it's too late to have a movie chase. Let's yell “Tomato!” in a crowded restaurant and point at the “tomato lover” because tomatoes are evil – a good tomato is a squashed tomato! The within within life imitating art comes to a head with behind the scenes interruptions; they are out of money so the cast and crew are now incorporating product placement right down to the cereal box between the two shot conversation. Rednecks with beer, ninjas in black fighting cowboys in white hats, and “Vigilance is the Price of Freedom. Report any suspicious vegetable activity.” Uncle Sam posters escalate to luxury construction at the toxic waste dump, prison escapes for golfing White House aides, Soylent Green homages, and an interactive Frankenstein. Once the stars ask if they have enough money to finish this turkey, the product placement begats celebrity spoofs, music knockoffs, and killer countdowns with a scoreboard and referee. Fortunately, a page from the script is handy to write a note on asking for help and shootouts result in ketchup. Layered dialogue and visual gags send up everything possible in every scene, requiring multiple viewings for all the laugh at its corny self in on the joke ridiculous. While certainly endearing for those who loved this then, today this remains an enjoyable eighties comedy that's surprisingly intelligent and ahead of its time.

Space Station 76 – Patrick Wilson (Bone Tomahawk), Liv Tyler (Lord of the Rings), Matt Bomer (White Collar), and more are all aboard for this 2014 retro futuristic seventies wink, and we immediately feel the groovy thanks to the deliberately old fashioned space shuttles, colorful special effects, bright white corridors, and spinning station design. Rather than psychedelic in your face weird, the flashing lights, lasers, and saucy visions are pleasing to today's HD eye. Vintage panels, knobs, analog gizmos, mid century plastics, viewfinders, cigarettes, ash trays, wild wallpaper, and roller skates accent the rec room luaus and awkward cafeterias as the interconnected relationships, hidden sexuality, and affairs leave plenty of foots in people's mouths. Between the undefined jobs the crew does poorly, bored housewives, lingering hippie mentalities, waterbeds, and confined interiors a lot can happen. Our incoming career oriented female officer doesn't fit in and can see the going through the motions situations. There are children on board, however the vain and manipulative parents are more interested in Valium, porn magazines, and robots because it's easier to interact with machinery and automation than build healthy relationships. Some remember growing up on earth and doing things for oneself versus space-bound reliance, but the should be idyllic futuristic bliss only creates an inability to cope. One can't even kill himself by dropping the retro radio into the bathtub because the system corrects the overloaded circuits. Naturalistic conversations provide annoyed, off the cuff sardonic socializing attempts while subtle humor – like using the arboretum to grow pot and a robotic hand getting stuck gripping a boob – alleviates any potential tenderness. The ironic, feel good classic soundtrack matches anti-gravity moments enjoying the space faring circumstances, but arguments and lies lead to contrived Christmas parties, stranded consequences, and embarrassing secrets. They are stuck with where and who they are, and somehow have to make the best of it. Although this might have been interesting as a series, the refreshing R zany but not laugh out loud doesn't overstay its welcome. I'm surprised this movie isn't more popular, as other comedy science fiction shows are full blown sends ups, but here the quirky framework anchors serious, well done characterizations. Rather than making fun of the era, the kitschy innuendo helps create a façade for the interpersonal issues, jobs over emotions, and loneliness. This is a touching little film with bemusing nostalgia and social commentary, but labeling this a comedy isn't quite fair once the drama hits too close to home, for we too have technology replacing human interaction and it is far from perfect.

Thor: Ragnarok – Taika Waititi (What We Do in the Shadows) directs the titular Chris Hemsworth, Tom Hiddleston (Only Lovers Left Alive), and Tessa Thompson (Westworld) in this 2017 Marvel sequel exploding with eighties sci-fi homage, edgy rock tunes, retro video tours, Willy Wonka notes, flashy colors, and intergalactic flair. Unlike the morose fantasy of Thor: The Dark World; industrial trash, damaged spaceships, and beer are rough and wild – matching the caged and chained Thor as he waxes on his heroic status, the new lack thereof, fiery attacks, and lightning displays. Asgard is in peril, but dramatic choirs and rewritten odes starring Matt Damon (Interstellar) and the delightful Anthony Hopkins (Hannibal) as Loki pretending to be Odin lead to Norway goodbyes, somber conversations, and family regrets. Thanks to trailer giveaways and obvious foreshadowing, there aren't many surprises, but the locales proceed quest-style with friends or enemies along the way including Benedict Cumberbatch's (Sherlock) Doctor Strange and the scene chewing Cate Blanchett (Elizabeth) as the unleashed Hela, Goddess of Death. Visual tricks, sight gags, and umbrella disguises accent the superhero send up as Thor is dragged by his cape and put in his place. Mark Ruffalo's (The Normal Heart) gladiator Hulk and the campy Grandmaster Jeff Goldblum (Independence Day) add personal banter, self-aware charm, and even flirtatiousness thanks to hot tubs and green butt shots. The battle action CGI can be busy, herky jerky messy where you can't see anything, however unique Valkyrie flashbacks, mystical elements, and slow motion superhero cool moments set off the hidden Asgard history, giant wolves, and undead lairs. Unfortunately, it gets a little old when there's a quip, humorous aside, and lighthearted tension breaker interrupting every serious scene. Asgardians are literally being butchered while we're being told to laugh with distracting, gif-able wisecracks. This uneven back and forth between the violence and the refreshing reboot undercuts Hela's threats – leaving us to wonder if we even need the eponymous destruction when this could just be about The Revengers and their baggage escaping Sakaar, cool cool. After spending most of the time here mocking the previous Thor films, the end heroics are ironically played straight and the characters remain more important than the action. While the irreverent attitudes and flippant comedy in the wrong places could have chilled, this doesn't follow typical Marvel patterns. Thor needed to change it up, and the entertainment moves fast for fans as well as viewers looking for something different.

For some ~ serious science fiction discussion ~ also consider two Great Courses programs How Science Shapes Science Fiction and How Great Science Fiction Works. I was too busy paying attention and didn't take notes!