James Yawned: Is Amazon MGM About to Make a Huge Mistake Casting 007?

Happy Monday, folks!

The Cowboys and the Eagles just finished duking it out on Monday Night Football, and they’re not the only ones, as a handful of Hollywood heartthrobs tested for James Bond this weekend in London.

Tonight, I’ll tackle the ongoing, uninspired search for 007, but first, I want to weigh in on some new releases — the good, (the okay), the bad, and the ugly.

The Good

You Can See Everything

Nathan Fielder and Lance Oppenheim’s documentary about disgraced Theranos founder Elizabeth Holmes was fascinating, mostly in its second half, once it introduces [redacted] into its narrative and blurs the line between art and life, which is why some are questioning whether this movie is really a documentary at all.

I don’t think that You Can See Everything is a movie that is supposed to determine whether Holmes is guilty or innocent. I think it makes it clear there is something deeply wrong with her, whether or not she’s just pretending there’s something deeply wrong with her.

Fielder is, clearly, rightfully skeptical of Holmes and her claims. The problem is that he doesn’t feel objective; it feels like he’s plotting or scheming something – waiting to pull out the rug from under Holmes and her handsome hubby, Billy Evans, or manipulating them into a particular response, as he does by showing Holmes scenes from The Dropout. 

Holmes and Evans didn’t decide to watch the Hulu show themselves; Fielder either suggested it or forced them to watch — to confront both the truth and the lie.

In a way, Fielder is messing with her. Just look at the Abbott and Costello scene. He’s not just saying, ‘There’s something wrong with this person’; he’s showing it to us by revealing her limited understanding of humor. Unless she does understand the joke and is pretending not to, because it feeds the narrative of her being on the spectrum.

I’m less interested in the question of whether or not Evans is ultimately paid part of the profits of the movie than in the question of whether the media created the character of Elizabeth Holmes, or if she created the character herself.

The film deems the question somewhat unanswerable, as the New York Times reporter who reported the controversial quote admitted there’s no recording and said she no longer has the notebook where it was written down.

Dear reader, I’ve never thrown away a notebook, and I report casting scoops — I’m not taking notes for feature profiles for The New York Times. Let’s just say, it’s odd to say the least.

Personally, I do believe she ‘created’ the character of Elizabeth Holmes, and the media ran with it, building her up into something she wasn’t. She then felt forced to play that part. But the media wanted to believe the lie as much as she did (all except for Jon Carreyrou, who broke the story of Holmes’ fraud).

Ultimately, Fielder needs to be the one to tackle the question and find out whether the Elizabeth Holmes we all know and mock is really her, or if she’s a lie — a Silicon Valley construct meant to separate investors from their money.

Because if her real crime is being different, then the 34 days we see Fielder spend with Holmes and her family can be viewed through the heartbreaking lens of a woman who is about to be separated from her family for roughly a decade, and who doesn’t even seem to understand why. Sadly, Fielder plays this for laughs. They’re uncomfortable laughs, incredulous laughs, and there might be another good documentary forcing the audience to examine why they’re laughing, and what makes something funny.

Another documentary filmmaker might’ve made it a point to focus on the high-stakes drama of the situation, but Fielder finds the humor in it, and to his credit, there is humor, as Holmes and Evans are truly an odd couple. Some viewers were concerned that Evans was a controlling narcissist, but I thought of him as an eager-to-please puppy with a chip on his shoulder — I think she had him wrapped around her little finger, and he did whatever she wanted.

There’s a big point of contention about whether Evans is paid for the documentary and whether Holmes knows about it. A lot of documentary subjects ask and expect to be paid, and most times, that request is denied in the name of objectivity. I won’t spoil what happens on that front, but I don’t think it matters, either, and there’s too much time spent on that.

I just think it’s obvious that Holmes knew that Evans was hoping to be paid for his/their participation. She walked out of the room so she could have plausible deniability, and the money could be seen as Evans’ so she wouldn’t have to give it up as part of the millions she owes in restitution.

I think Holmes is much smarter than people give her credit for; she’s just playing dumb. And by pretending to be dumb — to not know right from wrong — it makes it that much easier to lie. The ease with which Holmes lies is how she hoodwinked so many people into believing her in the first place. Her inability to engage with reality speaks to the fact that she’s a fraud, almost as if she never had a choice but to be anything but that. 

At no point does Fielder ever really consider that Holmes is telling the truth, and I do wish he had asked her about the rape that her father casually mentions midway through the movie, which was likely a major turning point in her life. But Fielder isn’t a documentary filmmaker, and that’s not the story he’s telling, so he’s not interested in it.

He’s more interested in how people are refracted through the media, which he knows includes himself. 

As soon as Holmes goes off to prison, the movie fills the void with someone else — someone who interprets Holmes, albeit through Fielder’s memory. 

It’s a fascinating choice that asks some interesting questions about art and what we expect of art in terms of accuracy, and how the impact of that art can affect both its subject and its creator.

I found the movie to be a fascinating exercise but, when you look a little deeper, it’s also not that deep. In fact, it’s a little empty, and you’re left wondering what the point of it was beyond some cheap laughs at the expense of Holmes and her daffy husband. 

Much is made of the egg-whisking incident, which is pretty funny in the moment, but can also be explained as pretty normal behavior from a control freak — which Evans most definitely is. So what? Yes, he’s weird. Did you think Elizabeth Holmes would wind up with a normal guy?

These two deserve each other. And Fielder deserves credit for this bold, daring experiment — one that is clearly paying off at the box office. I think it’s going to become the first documentary nominated for Best Picture because younger voters love how it plays with form and structure, but I know some older voters (i.e., purists) who question the film’s documentary credentials, which is also entirely fair.

I don’t know whether You Can See Everything is entirely ethical, but it’s doing something new and exciting, and it’s getting people excited to see a documentary for the first time in ages, which is great. But is it a great movie? I don’t think so. It’s a great experiment, and the payoff is worth the three-hour investment, but I’m not sure I left the theater knowing any more about Holmes than I knew walking in.

She remains an enigma, just like Chris Hansen did in Primetime, Oppenheim’s other A24 movie about the host of NBC’s To Catch a Predator. Perhaps that’s the point — to some extent, these people and their motivations are unknowable. All we know is that they’re not like us.

I highly recommend seeing You Can See Everything, and seeing it with a crowd in theaters, since I know that if you watch it at home, you’ll pause it a few times during its three-hour runtime. You definitely won’t see everything — but that’s the whole point.

We want to… but we can’t. And we’re not supposed to, either.

Perhaps that’s why Theranos was a bad idea all along — some things in life are meant to remain a mystery.

Grade: B+

Clayface

I saw Clayface over the weekend, and I liked it. I saw it with a friend who did not like it.

I don’t really understand what he was expecting. The movie delivered exactly what it promised. As soon as those thugs started cutting Matt Hagen’s face off, leaving the tip of his nose to dangle from his face, I thought, ‘This is fucking gnarly.’

I thought the body horror in this movie was pretty impressive for a comic book film, from the guy he smothers inside of his stomach whose nose can be seen poking out through his back, to the scene in the plane where he has to cut his own eyelids open (as seen in the trailer). Meanwhile, the nightclub scene is pretty cool.

Yeah, it gets a little goofy when you can’t trust your own eyes, and the movie does away with the transformation, and Matt can suddenly change his appearance in the blink of an eye, but it’s no worse than watching a zillion extras pretend to be possessed by Jean Gray in Spider-Man: Brand New Day. I went with it and had no problems, and I liked the end, too, which I don’t need to get into.

I liked Tom Rhys Harries as Matt, as you really empathize with this guy, who made the simple mistake of sleeping with the wrong woman. I thought David Dencik was fairly menacing as the villain, Markos Szabo. I liked Naomi Ackie, who I bought as a scientist who develops feelings for Matt under the nose of her detective fiancée (Max Minghella).

I’ll grant you that Clayface might be a guilty pleasure — that’s fair. But I was pretty impressed, and the fact that director James Watkins made this movie for $44 million means it’s going to be profitable for DC Studios, so if we don’t get a sequel, perhaps it will encourage James Gunn and Peter Safran to take similar chances — and similarly budgeted ones — in the future.

Grade: B

Fall 2: Deadpoint

This sequel wasn’t quite as effective as the first film, but it was a worthy follow-up, and it did buck certain genre conventions, which I appreciated.

My palms sweat throughout this sequel, and that’s a testament to the Spierig brothers, who do a good job capturing the nerve-wracking feeling of being stranded on the side of a mountain.

If you liked the first movie, I see no reason why you wouldn’t watch this follow-up.

Grade: B-

V/H/S/Mixtape

The anthology horror franchise returns just in time for Halloween, and the theme of this installment is sound.

Mixtape features several segments I enjoyed, including Renee Zhan’s Dance Dance Dance Dance, a short made with the help of Jim Henson’s Creature Shop that I found to be much more effective than Buddy.

I loved David Moreau’s Heartbeat, which boasts a simple but freaky premise — a couple locks themselves inside an anechoic chamber. If you don’t know what that is, Google it. 

Flying Lotus contributes an animated music video that looks cool but probably could’ve been dropped. Perhaps the V/H/S producers should’ve considered doing an all-animated movie and including it there, because here, it mixes things up a bit, but I’m not sure it stands on its own. The same goes for Tobias Forge’s music video for “Premature Burial.”

I didn’t love Ernest Dickerson’s The Music of Mr. Sze, but I was a big fan of RZA’s Death Tone, which features the installment’s best performance, courtesy of Neela Jolene, who has star potential. Producers and casting directors should have her on their radar.

Finally, the metal band GWAR appears in interludes that pop up throughout the movie, and I hated every second they were onscreen. I have no clue why the producers felt the participation of GWAR was necessary, but the band feels like a relic from the ‘90s. 

Grade: B-

The Okay

The Disciple: A Wu-Tang Fable

This is a semi-interesting documentary about Cilvaringz, a die-hard fan of the Wu-Tang Clan who wormed his way into the group’s inner circle and came up with the idea of creating a 1-of-1 collectible album that could be sold for millions of dollars, comparable to a work of art like a painting.

Unfortunately, the resulting Wu-Tang album was purchased by Martin Shkreli, an evil scumbag whose assets were seized by the government after he was arrested for fraud.

Oscar winner Joanna Natasegara (The White Helmets) makes her feature directing debut here, but the doc is a little long, and it’s missing interviews with key members of the Wu-Tang Clan, relying too much on Cilvaringz’s recollection of events.

Meanwhile, in a world where there’s an entire documentary about Elizabeth Holmes, I’m a little disappointed that Natasegara couldn’t land a jailhouse interview with Shkreli, as his involvement in this story is what made it so fascinating. I wanted to hear from him, and I was bummed I didn’t get to.

Grade: C+

Crawlers

This movie is pretty much exactly as advertised. It’s the B-movie horror version of Arachnophobia, and if you’re looking for spiders to wreak all kinds of havoc, then I suppose it delivers.

Director Angel Gomez Hernandez delivers some clever and creative kills in this movie, which is very well-paced, but I wish Matilda Lutz had delivered a livelier performance, as I found her a little underwhelming compared to her impassioned work in Revenge.

Overall, I’d say that Crawlers is worth a quick look on VOD if you’re a hardcore genre fan, but if you’re not, you’re probably safe to skip it. It’ll scratch an itch, but it’s nothing special.

Grade: C

The Bad

Union County

I caught up with the Sundance “hit” Union County, which was a snooze, sadly.

Will Poulter plays a blue-collar kind of guy who’s going through a drug recovery program along with his brother, played by an unkempt Noah Centineo.

It’s very quiet and contemplative, but unfortunately, nothing much happens. I’ve seen a lot of these kinds of movies, and this one just didn’t stand out in any way. 

You can safely skip it.

Grade: C-

The Social Reckoning

A mostly terrible, largely pointless movie about the Facebook Files that does a bad job explaining why they’re important.

Oscar winner Mikey Madison is miscast as Facebook whistleblower Frances Haugen. Emmy winner Jeremy Strong is horribly miscast as Facebook mastermind Mark Zuckerberg. Emmy winner Jeremy Allen White is merely a bump on a log as Wall Street Journal reporter Jeff Horwitz — one of the most boring protagonists I’ve seen in some time.

The supporting cast fares far better.

Bill Burr steals every scene he’s in as Charlie Garrigan, a member of Facebook’s legal counsel, and Wunmi Mosaku is very good as a crisis management specialist. I’d watch a TV spinoff about those two characters cleaning up scandals every week. I also liked Betty Gilpin as White’s boss at the Journal, and Billy Magnussen as a media relations exec at Facebook. These characters are far more interesting than the two leads, and the movie comes to life every minute they’re on screen, which isn’t enough.

The Social Reckoning ends with a fist pump that may be the most eye-rolling callback I’ve ever seen on the big screen. It is so TV (not to wield that like a dirty word) and so Sorkin-y that it feels like something more appropriate for The West Wing.

I got into it with Seinfeld writer Peter Mehlman, who I consider to be a genius. Basically, if you wrote for Seinfeld, you’re a genius in my book. Mehlman didn’t like that I wrote “Director Jail for Aaron Sorkin.” In his book, who am I, a mere blogger, to suggest that The Great Aaron Sorkin belongs in Director Jail?

Now, I understand that Mehlman didn’t know whether I was “hoping” Sorkin would be sent to Director Jail, or merely “predicting” he’d be sent to Director Jail, but the truth is, it’s both.

And that’s because you know, and I know, that Aaron Sorkin belongs nowhere near a movie camera. I’m not saying he’s the worst director in the world. He’s merely serviceable. But when you’re one of the greatest writers in the world, doesn’t your work deserve a director who can wring the most out of that screenplay?

Why does Sorkin continue to insist on directing his own stuff? Is it because he can? Is it because he doesn’t trust another director to come in and put their stamp on his screenplay? What compels such a smart guy to make such a dumb decision?

I was never a West Wing guy, and I didn’t care for The Newsroom. I’m sure Sorkin knows how to direct the hell out of those shows, because I know people who swear by both. But Sorkin has TV sensibilities, and he’s simply not cut out for the big screen.

He doesn’t have that visual mind, nor should he, because he’s a brilliant writer. Not every writer should direct, and not every director should write their own scripts. There are very few people who are truly natural writer-directors. These are two jobs that require largely different skills and personalities.

The best scene in The Social Reckoning is its prologue, “White Girl Wasted,” because it has some David Fincher-like grit. There’s genuine suspense. You don’t know how ugly this encounter is about to get, but there’s a creeping dread, and given the racial dynamics, it’s genuinely uncomfortable to watch.

But the movie is all downhill from there.

Sorkin never does a good job of showing why Frances cares so much about this radicalized schoolmate (Portia Doubleday) of hers, or why she decides to go on the record after trudging to the middle of a public park for weeks to maintain her secrecy.

After taking such precautions, Frances changes her mind in a split second, and I didn’t buy that act of impulsivity. Not from that character. At least you see Russell Crowe wrestle a bit with his decision to blow the whistle in The Insider.

Sorkin should probably go back and watch that one…

Grade: D+

Animals

Animals was a genuine embarrassment from Ben Affleck, who seemed like he made this movie at gunpoint.

It’s the same story as Spike Lee’s recent Apple movie Highest 2 Lowest, itself a remake of Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low, and it’s just a mess that’s beyond boring.

The villain is kind of important in a kidnapping movie, and here, the villain is a total afterthought. They don’t matter whatsoever.

The other problem? You don’t care about the kid at all. You cared about Brawley Nolte in Ransom. Not here. And the end of the movie is so patently ridiculous that it has already become an online meme.

You’d have to watch Animals to understand how frustrating it is, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Even The Rip was better. I respect the mission of Artists Equity, but the company needs to step up its game, as its recent productions have been pretty bad.

Kudos to Affleck for getting his crew paid, but maybe next time, he could pay for a better script. This was pretty, pretty, pretty bad.

Grade: D+

The Beast

This is a ridiculous VOD play from director Renny Harlin starring Samuel L. Jackson as the President, and Joel Kinnaman as the Secret Service agent sworn to protect him.

They’re trapped inside an armed Presidential limousine and taking heavy fire from a group of domestic terrorists desperate to overthrow the government.

Harlin actually delivers some cool shots here, but the dialogue between Jackson and Kinnaman is positively cringeworthy, and in the end, this contained story offers barely any story at all — just two stock characters pressing buttons on a badass weapon disguised as a car.

There’s an audience for this movie, but don’t go expecting another pleasant VOD surprise like Kinnaman’s Sympathy for the Devil, Brothers by Blood, or The Secrets We Keep. This one is pretty goofy, and Kinnaman is largely wasted in the backseat.

Grade: D

The Ugly

Street Fighter

I was pretty pumped for Kitao Sakurai’s new Street Fighter movie, which seemed to capture the spirit of the video games I grew up playing.

In a recent column, I even suggested that Universal take a look at Sakurai for its Fast and Furious franchise. But after seeing Street Fighter, I’m embarrassed I made that suggestion, as Sakurai completely botched this assignment.

Jean-Claude Van Damme and the late Raul Julia can rest easy.

Prior to the current video game movie craze, many video game publishers were reluctant to let Hollywood make movies based on their biggest properties, and there’s a reason for that — a bad movie could harm the golden goose.

I never really understood that logic… but I might understand it now that I’ve seen Street Fighter, because the next time I play the Capcom game, I don’t think I’ll be able to forget this cursed adaptation.

For starters, Andrew Koji and Noah Centineo are both terrible and feel like they’re in two different movies as Ryu and Ken Masters. They have zero chemistry together — whether as ‘brothers-in-arms’ or friendly rivals.

The movie feels like the work of a fan, and I don’t mean that as a compliment. It’s all fan service, and the story is too dumb for me to even waste my time explaining, but I’ll do my best.

Ryu won the original World Warrior tournament in 1987, so he’s the real talent between the two, though fighting brings out something evil inside of him — or something. So when Ryu does fight, it’s Ken’s job to save Ryu from himself.

Koji doesn’t do it for me — he’s no Phillip Rhee from Best of the Best, that’s for sure — while Centineo plays Ken like, well, Ken from Barbie. The actor certainly looks the part, and this movie made me 10% more curious about his Rambo prequel, but Centineo isn’t Glen Powell or even Karl Urban, and his goofy performance comes up short here.

When the movie opens, Ken and Ryu are mourning the death of their mentor, Gouken (Don Lee). Ken has become a drunk, and Ryu… sells bad ramen? Yada yada yada, they’re both eager to avenge Gouken’s death.

Then there’s Chun Li, and if anyone escapes from this mess with their dignity intact, it’s Callina Liang, who is actually pretty good here.

She’s eager to avenge the death of her own father at the hands of M. Bison, played by David Dastmalchian in a scenery-chewing performance that finds him mugging for the camera like Jim Carrey in a Sonic the Hedgehog movie.

M. Bison is draining the world’s strongest men of their “psycho powers” to strengthen himself — for a sequel, I assume, since his entire storyline builds to an anticlimactic non-confrontation. But I digress…

M. Bison arranges for a new tournament that features some of the worst actors you’ve ever seen in your life.

For starters, there’s Cody Rhodes as Guile. I’m sure Rhodes makes a fine WWE heel, but this is the big screen, and he belongs nowhere near it. Singer Orville Peck plays Vega, and he shouldn’t quit his day job. I could barely understand Vidyut Jammwal as Dhalsim, through no fault of the actor, as the movie’s aggressive sound mix steps on the beginning of most of his lines.

As for 50 Cent, I’ve seen trees with more personality.

Then there are Andrew Schulz and Eric Andre, two of the comedy world’s most obnoxious personalities, well-cast as Ken’s manager, Dan Hibiki, and ring announcer Don Sauvage, respectively. Unfortunately, there is way, WAY too much of them in this movie.

I mean, Kyle Mooney as a lovestruck Interpol agent who helps Chun-Li? What are we doing here, folks?

But the worst performance, by far, comes from Jason Momoa, who plays the green-skinned beast Blanka like a cross between the Tasmanian Devil and Forrest Gump. 

By the time Roman Reigns shows up as Gouken’s evil brother Akuma, I felt bad for everyone involved in this movie, which offers two different villains, neither of whom work, and no meaningful emotional catharsis (sorry, Chun-Li).

Let’s just say I’m not surprised Mary Parent let her fellow producer Cale Boyter take the sole P.G.A. credit on this movie.

Honestly, I had to fight every instinct in my body not to walk out in the middle of this movie. I knew that if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to say anything about it, so I toughed it out for you guys. And dear reader, things did not get any better.

Like the story itself (particularly in the second half), the action is completely incoherent. The fight scenes are either poorly directed or sloppily edited, and I could barely tell what was happening — if you took a drink each time someone is thrown into or through a wall in this movie, I don’t think you’d make it to the end.

Perhaps most egregiously, Sakurai treats the tournament like an afterthought. I can barely remember two of its seven fights. On top of everything, Carrot Top would be ashamed of the “humor” in this film, which is so goofy that it recalls Morbius.

The ‘90s music cues may be more painful than anything. I’m talking Baha Men’s “Who Let the Dogs Out,” The Offspring’s “Gotta Keep ‘Em Separated,” and White Zombie’s “More Human Than Human.” You know, all your favorite hits.

Listen, I knew Street Fighter would be a problem as soon as I saw its 117-minute runtime, which is insane for this kind of movie. But it’s obvious why the movie is 20 minutes too long — there are roughly 20 minutes of anime flashbacks that I had no idea about beforehand. And as cool as these flashbacks looked, I’ll admit that I completely checked out during those scenes.

I mean, I give Sakurai points for creativity, but it felt like such a cop out — like the director couldn’t color within the lines of his budget, so all the big, expensive scenes were done via anime. I would’ve accepted an anime prologue, but the film keeps returning to the anime flashbacks, and each time, the story comes to a screeching halt.

Variety ended its review suggesting that Legendary and Capcom should’ve just made an anime movie, and I had the same thought watching Street Fighter. Why is this a hybrid movie, and why didn’t the producers just pick a lane?

Clearly, this movie has no idea what it wants to be. It’s not funny enough to be a successful comedy, and the fight scenes aren’t memorable enough to make this a successful action movie. As a video game movie, it pales in comparison to something like Resident Evil, and frankly, I wish to never speak of Street Fighter again after today. 

It’s a movie that will literally insult your intelligence and then laugh about it. I didn’t see Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves or Masters of the Universe, and perhaps I shouldn’t have seen Street Fighter. But I did, and I just call ‘em like I see ‘em, folks.

Sometimes, I see ‘em so you don’t have to. The $9.99 a month you pay me is to serve as a filter. Think of me as a concierge service, preventing you from wasting your hard-earned time and money on terrible movies. 

At one point in the third act of Street Fighter, Chun-Li asks, “What is happening?”

It was a great fucking question.

Grade: F

Later this week, I’ll share my thoughts on I Play Rocky, The Mosquito Bowl, Elsinore, The Only Living Pickpocket in New York, Tenzing, The Cycle, and Breeder, which I’m off to see right now.

In case you can’t tell, I’ve been mainlining new movies this month, but I’ve still missed more than a few titles, including Whalefall, Misty Green, La Bola Negra, Other Mommy, Musk, Wicker, and The Devils. This should only point to how damn near impossible it is to keep up with all of these new releases.

I’ll never understand why Hollywood continues to shoot itself in the foot by dumping all these movies in the final three months of the year. Make it make sense!

In the meantime, I have a ton of catching up to do, and I’m betting you do, too. But if you’re a Premium Subscriber and you want to know my thoughts on the James Bond shortlists that dropped last week, you may now enter the Sneider-Verse to read more…

Subscribe to Premium to read the rest.