The Descent

Note: I wrote this review on spec for a local newspaper, but to my knowledge it wasn’t published, so I thought I’d just toss it up here. Enjoy…

The television ad campaign for The Descent claim the film is “from the people who brought you Saw and Hostel,” two sadistic horror films that focus on human torture. The ads do an injustice both to fans of those films (who may not enjoy this one) and people who don’t like those films (and just might like The Descent).

The Descent is an old-fashioned monster movie with a modern horror film sensibility. It was released in Great Britain over a year ago (and is already out on DVD over there), but did so well in the UK that “the people who brought you Saw and Hostel” decided to buy the North American distribution rights and give it a theatrical release here–an honor not accorded to Marshall’s previous film, Dog Soldiers (2002), one of the better werewolf movies out there.
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“Gotham by Gaslight” Batman action figure

Though on occasion I’ve gone through a period of interest in comic books, I wouldn’t classify myself as a superhero fan. I do love Hellboy, but I don’t really consider him a superhero per se. At times I’ve enjoyed reading the X-Men and whatnot, but if there’s a superhero I really appreciate, it’s Batman.

There are countless Batman stories out there, and toy company DC Direct (DCD) has worked hard to give us a figure from each one of them. But one of my favorite Batman stories is Gotham by Gaslight (1989), the first Elseworlds story (the brand was applied retroactively). Gaslight places the Batman story in the late Victorian era, with Batman tracking Jack the Ripper, who’s now running loose in Gotham.
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Superman Returns

In 1962, writer and academic Umberto Eco published an essay called “The Myth of Superman,” in which he outlined how Superman (and superheroes in general) didn’t fit the traditional concept of a mythological hero due to the nature of capitalism and the episodic nature of Superman’s life. In essence, Superman has countless adventures over decades, all of which take place in a continuous present, while he remains the same approximate age. His story has a beginning, but it will never reach its end; but more importantly, he can never make progress, can never develop as a human being.
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Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest

When it came out three years ago, Pirates of the Caribbean was a sleeper hit, a surprisingly entertaining adventure film based on a theme park ride. And there was a time when that, as they say, would have been that. But in today’s Hollywood, Pirates went from being the equivalent of one of those rum-soaked Jolly Roger tourist boats to a money-making dreadnought, balanced carefully on Johnny Depp’s memorable performance as Captain Jack Sparrow.
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Cars

I probably wouldn’t have seen Cars in the theater had a friend not called me and invited me to go. Well, to be fair he suggested we see a movie, and I suggested Cars, as there was nothing else particularly appealing, though I do feel some obligation to see An Inconvenient Truth, if only to remind myself of what I am already all too aware of.

In any event, as we went into the theater, it occurred to me that I had seen every single Pixar film since Toy Story. My next thought was to organize them by my opinion of their quality, but other than deciding The Incredibles was my favorite and Toy Story 2 was probably the best one, I abandoned the enterprise as the worthless nerd speculation that it was.

I will say that I think Cars is one of the lesser Pixar movies. It’s on par with Monsters, Inc., which I also found just a bit underwhelming—though in both cases, I think Pixar may be a victim of their own success. Cars is a much better animated film than a lot of recent releases, but it’s not as good as their best work.

On the roads of Cars, there are no passengers and no drivers—just cars. Cars with shiny Fisher Price-like paint finishes, vaguely creepy eyes, and (in some cases) even more creepy back tattoos. While the film looks beautiful, I’m not sure the design of the anthropomorphic cars quite works, especially around the eyes.

The story is straightforward and, for anyone who watched a lot of television as a kid, very familiar. Lightning McQueen (Owen Wilson) is a hotshot rookie race car with an ego bigger than Bigfoot (the monster truck, not the cryptid). While traveling across the country to an important race in California, he gets lost on the famous Route 66 and ends up in a two-car (well, dozen-car) burg, where his resulting freak-out causes so much property damage that the local judge forces Lightning to repair the road before letting him resume his cross-country trip.

During his time in town, he makes new friends (such as sleek Porsche Sally Carrera, played by Bonnie Hunt, and the rusted-down truck Mater, voiced by—this is how he’s billed on IMDb.com—Larry the Cable Guy), discovers an incredible secret about the judge, Doc Hudson (Paul Newman), and discovers that maybe, just maybe, there’s something to caring about people—eh, cars—other than himself.

It’s very standard children’s stuff, and it’s indicative of an overall issue with Cars—much more than its predecessors, it feels like a film for children. There’s a dearth of the adult in-jokes that peppered the previous Pixar films, leaving a very stripped-down storyline. It almost feels like a Disney animated film from the 1950s or ’60s—a major change from the futuristic milieu of The Incredibles. There’s just not a lot to chew on here. The film provides some good, if simple, lessons about selfishness, egotism, and hard work.

What’s perhaps a bit more troubling is the preachy nostalgia about the “lost paradise” of 1950s-era middle America. More than anything else, this feels like slight pandering to a middle American audience. Between young children and middle America, this may be the most demographically-targeted of the Pixar films thus far, and that’s unsettling.

Story aside, I must admit that Pixar continues to improve artistically and technologically. There are many breathtaking landscapes in this film, and plenty of small touches, from the completely believable way a tractor flips over (“tractor-tipping”) to the smooth, shiny look of a new-paved road. Those Pixar folks are getting very, very good.

The voice work is, as usual, very good, with Larry the Cable Guy channeling the late Jim Varney for the voice of Mater, a broken-down truck who steals much of the film. I also enjoyed Jeremy Piven’s cameo as Lightning’s unseen agent and Pixar staple John Ratzenberger as Lightning’s carrier truck, Mac.

Pixar’s next film is Ratatouille, about a French rat obsessed with gourmet food. After that, I hope they bring us Brad (The Incredibles) Bird’s long-postponed animated project Ray Gunn, a noir about a futuristic private eye (think Blade Runner meets The Maltese Falcon).

The Rundown

Yes, this movie came out three years ago, but I missed it then and didn’t see it until two years later on video. I happened to catch it on cable the other day, and again I was reminded of how damned fun the movie is and decided to review it.

I grew up watching the action films of the late 1980s and early ’90s. This is generally considered a pretty good era for action movies, falling smack-dab in the middle of the Schwarzenegger Epoch. Movies like Commando and Predator are great guilty-pleasure classics, while Total Recall and Terminator 2 rise above the genre enough to mitigate some of that guilt.

Action movies in the 1980s tended to be military-based; in the ’90s we got a lot of police thrillers. What we didn’t get is the “adventure” action film—something that George Lucas and Stephen Spielberg had singlehandedly rejuvenated with the Indiana Jones films. Sure, we had a Romancing the Stone here and a Medicine Man there, but the adventure flick was quickly abandoned in favor of countless John Woo-style crime thrillers and science fiction flicks.

Of course, “adventure” films used to be the only type of action film there was—movies like King Solomon’s Mines. Movies with charming leading men, beautiful but still tough leading women, and exotic locations. That’s the sort of film we get with The Rundown.

If you’ve never seen it, go and rent it. If you demand a plot summary first, it’s this: the Rock plays a mob enforcer trying to get out from his contract with his mob boss. The boss agrees to free him if he performs just one last job: track down his son, who’s running around South America looking for a priceless ancient artifact. But there’s a problem: a corrupt businessman, played by Christopher Walken (who is allowed to run riot, acting-wise), is also after the artifact.

Really, I can only list the pleasures of this movie. There’s the Rock, a competent actor with great screen presence and an even better sense of humor, who plays a marvelous straight man to Sean William Scott. The Rock, unlike Schwarzenegger, understands exactly how to play the straight man, and more importantly, he seems to know it’s a better role for him than being the funny guy. (My friends and I are eagerly hoping that Blowback, a buddy flick starring the Rock and Ryan Reynolds as cops, gets made.) He also handles the action sequences with more aplomb than Arnie and finds just the right balance between taking it all seriously and keeping a touch of self-consciousness. What I’m saying is this: the Rock may not be the next Olivier, but he is the best action movie star I’ve ever seen. I’m no wrestling fan and I found The Scorpion King a little dumb, but The Rundown made me a lifelong fan of Mr. Dwayne Johnson.

Scott does a good job too. Like Keanu Reeves and Ashton Kutcher before him, Scott has escaped his initial second-banana role (in American Pie) to become the most successful star of that film. He’s a great foil for the Rock.

Other pleasures: the beautiful jungle scenery (El Dorado by way of Hawaii, but still beautiful). The beautiful Rosario Dawson. The guide with the incomprehensibly thick Scottish accent. The monkeys (“Get outta here, monkey!”).

And of course, Walken’s wonderfully insane acting. There is some seriously vintage Walken in this movie, which reaches a new peak with this diatribe:

I feel like a little boy who’s lost his first tooth, put it under his pillow, waiting for the tooth-fairy to come. Only two evil burglars have crept in my window, and snatched it, before she could get here…wait a second, do you understand the concept of the tooth-fairy? Explain it to them…wait. She takes the god damned thing, and gives you a quarter. They’ve got my tooth. I want it back.

The Rundown is easily my favorite action film of the last ten years. Or, heck, probably since Terminator 2. No, it’s not quite the classic like King Solomon’s Mines or The African Queen, but it’s the epitome of a good, fun action movie, and I hope the Rock is smart enough to make more like it.

X-Men: The Last Blurb

(Note: Yeah, I said my “blurbs” would not be real reviews. Apparently I lied. Sosumi.)

It’s rare that I get out to the theater to see any movie these days, what with $10 ticket prices that include ten minutes of ads followed by enough film trailers that by the time the movie comes on, I’ve forgotten what I was there to see. It’s even rarer that I get out to see a movie on its opening weekend. But rarest of all is that beast known as the midnight showing. I can’t remember the last midnight showing I went to (if ever).

But somehow, someone convinced me to see X-Men: The Last Stand, a.k.a. X3 in the theater. The third and allegedly final entry in the film franchise that begin with X-Men in 2000, X3 appears to have done very well for itself this weekend, opening with a whopping $44 million take for Friday alone. How long can this go on, I wonder? We seem to be smack dab in a superhero movie fad, as disaster movies were the big thing from the mid-to-late nineties (Independence Day, Volcano, Dante’s Peak, Hard Rain, Deep Impact, Armageddon, Godzilla, and the king of them all, Titanic–the Poseidon remake was about ten years too late). We’ve got Superman Returns later this summer, a Batman Begins sequel in the works, and Marvel has a pile of films coming soon (including Spider-Man 3, Ghost Rider and sequels to Fantastic Four and 2003’s ill-received Hulk). There’s even a plan for a film featuring X-Men‘s Wolverine in a solo adventure, which seems a lock now, given the success of X3. How long will the superhero vogue last? I give it until at least 2008–ten years after the release of Blade, the film that started the Marvel film revolution.

But I digress. How is X3? Well, suffice to say that the official reviews by people who are paid to review movies are, in a word, mixed. The film has a rather dismal 52% rating at Rotten Tomatoes, but from what I can tell, the word-of-mouth among fans and non-fans alike seems fairly positive.

The first two X-Men films were treasures, blockbuster films that were better than they had to be. Most of that is due to director Bryan Singer, who made his name with the avant-garde hit The Usual Suspects and then immediately set about making superhero films (much like Christopher Nolan, who went from Memento to Batman Begins, much to the chagrin of cultural gatekeepers such as David Denby). But Singer left X3 to do Superman Returns, which at least one critic likened to Johnny Damon leaving the Red Sox for the Yankees (for those not in the know, the X-Men belong to Marvel Comics, whereas Superman is the flagship hero of their biggest rival, DC Comics). Singer was replaced by Brett Ratner, whose previous achievements included the two Rush Hour films and the Silence of the Lambs prequel Red Dragon.

I was a bit concerned about Ratner, but I think he did the best he could with the script he was given. I don’t think X3 is the hateful mess that, say, Walter Chaw does. It is, however, a bit of a mess, with too many characters, too many unresolved subplots, and too many themes to be explored in its brisk 104-minute running time.

The story, with minimal spoilers, is as follows: the U.S. government has come up with a “cure” for mutants using the mutation-cancelling powers of a mutant boy called Leech. Magneto (Ian McKellen), the anti-hero/villain of the first two films and a Holocaust survivor, believes this amounts to a form of genocide and organizes a mutant rebel force to storm the government complex (on Alcatraz, no less) and kill Leech. Opposing Magneto’s Malcolm X is his MLK-like former partner and friend, Professor Charles Xavier (Patrick Stewart) and his students, the X-Men.

There’s also a subplot involving the fate of Jean Grey (Famke Janssen), who was apparently killed at the end of the second film. And there are many, many other subplots, which I won’t go into detail here, except to mention the two better ones: the introduction of fan-favorite X-Man Kitty Pryde (charming newcomer Ellen Page), who can phase through walls, and the triangle that develops between her, Bobby “Iceman” Drake, and Rogue (Anna Paquin), whose mutation prevents her from ever touching anyway. The idea of a “cure” is a tantalizing one for a mutant like Rogue.

Newcomers include Beast, played by an ideally cast Kesley Grammer, a mutant with fur as blue as Grover and a sesquipedalian vocabulary. Beast serves as a secretary of mutant affairs on the presidental cabinet and is a former student of Xavier. There’s also the Juggernaut (Vinnie Jones), a super-strong mutant who can’t be stopped–by anything–once he gets up a head of steam.

Returning from the previous films is the slithery Mystique (Rebecca Romijn), Cyclops (James Marsden, who’s in very little of the film owing to double-duty in Singer’s Superman Returns), Storm (Halle Berry, who gets a lot more screen time in this one, for better or for worse), and of course Wolverine (Hugh Jackman), the Canadian son of the soil who can produce nine-inch steel claws from his knuckles.

Wolverine was a minor character introduced in an issue of The Incredible Hulk as “the first Canadian superhero” who went on to become one of Marvel Comics’ most successful characters (after the Hulk himself and, of course, Spider-Man). Singer somehow found the ideal Jackman and cast him in the role, and by X3, Wolverine has become the franchise’s main character (and Jackman arguably the most bankable actor, except for perhaps McKellen). Personally, I think Wolverine works best either solo or as a supporting character in a team book–not as the protagonist of a team book–but Jackman brings enough to the character that he’s able to carry the films.

That said, there’s still a lot to nitpick in X3. The story is rushed and much more plot-based than either of the previous movies. There are very few of the wonderful, low-key character moments we got in the earlier films and a much heavier emphasis on action (including an entirely superfluous action sequence with Wolverine in the forest). X-Men was virtually action-free, as superhero movies go; X2 upped the ante nicely and probably struck the right balance between characterization, plot and action; and X3 gives us mostly action, with some plot and a wee bit of characterization.

The greatest disappointment is Janssen’s Jean Grey, who has virtually nothing to do for most of the film, and what she does do has no clear context or motivation. Fans of the famous “Dark Phoenix Saga” from the comics will be justifiably dismayed by its handling (or lack thereof) here. The film also completely shortchanges the long history between Grey and Cyclops from the comics in favor of focusing on the more popular Wolverine/Jackman.

However, I will say this: the filmmakers have guts. Much like the largely forgettable Terminator 3, X3 is the weakest of the franchise’s three films, but redeems itself somewhat by going for broke in a way most summer blockbusters wouldn’t dare. If you’re not sure what I’m getting at, let me say this (spoiler alert):

There’s a good reason the next film will be a Wolverine solo flick.

Blurbs: Da Vinci Code, Mirrormask

Finished reading The Da Vinci Code this morning. It’s one of those books you read faster the closer you get to the end, until you’re skimming whole paragraphs just to get the important points of each chapter (which, by the end, were coming on the last line of each chapter like clockwork). The book felt less like a novel than a screenplay, with each chapter ending on a point of high tension before whisking the reader to another scene. It should make a pretty good movie, especially with Tom Hanks, Audrey Tautou, Ian McKellen and Jean Reno involved.

Next up is The Anubis Gates as I continue to work through the canon of Tim Powers.

DG and I watched Mirrormask over the weekend. I attended a panel at the 2003 San Diego Comic Con where screenwriter Neil Gaiman described how the film came about. Supposedly, someone at Columbia Pictures noticed The Dark Crystal and Labyrinth, while box office disappointments, were perennial sellers on DVD. So they asked Jim Henson Productions to create a movie in the same style and spirit as these two. JHP turned to Gaiman to write the script, and Gaiman recommended his longtime collaborator Dave McKean, an illustrator and comic book artist best known for his covers to Gaiman’s comic Sandman, to direct.

Unfortunately, Columbia gave McKean a rather paltry budget of just $4 million. This made it necessary for McKean to make heavy use of cinematic trickery and inexpensive CGI.

The result is profoundly…weird. The story centers around a girl named Helena, whose family runs a travelling circus. In an amusing twist on the old cliche, Helena longs to run away from the circus and join real life. She fights with her overbearing mother and wishes her dead; shortly after, her mother falls ill. As her mother is taken to the operating room, Helena–sick with guilt–falls asleep and finds herself in a bizarre alternate realm.

Mirrormask is dense with symbolism and incredible artistic imagery. It’s also pretty incomprehensible at times. The visuals are often cluttered and mystifying, and there are so many lens flares I had to wonder whether McKean was trying to hide the seams of his shoestring-budget CGI.

There’s no question that McKean has an incredible visual imagination; many of the sights in Mirrormask make the films of Jean-Pierre Jeunet (Delicatessen, The City of Lost Children) seem straightforward and facile. But this is not a film for children; it’s certainly not in the same vein as The Dark Crystal or Labyrinth. Alienated teens and art students might find the film’s dense digital phantasmagoria a feast, but for those looking for an enjoyable story along the lines of the aforementioned films, Mirrormask will disappoint.

Next on my Netflix queue is A History of Violence. Further bulletins as events warrant.

Batman Begins

What is it with maverick directors and superhero movies? Tim Burton started it. He’d had back-to-back sleeper hits (Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure and Beetlejuice) when he signed on to direct the original Batman. Bryan Singer made the fun and inventive film The Usual Suspects, then went on to direct X-Men, X2 and now Superman Returns. Sam Raimi worked his way up from genre flicks to his dark masterpiece, A Simple Plan—then took the reigns of the Spider-Man franchise. Darren Aronofsky (Pi, Requiem for a Dream) is working on an adaptation of the Japanese graphic novel Lone Wolf and Cub (and for a long time was attached to an adaptation of Alan Moore’s Watchmen).

And now we have Christopher Nolan, who created one of the most innovative films in years (Memento) directing the latest entry in the Batman franchise, Batman Begins. It stars Christian Bale (American Psycho, Reign of Fire) as Bruce Wayne/Batman; Michael Caine as his butler Alfred; Liam Neeson as Wayne’s mysterious mentor, Ducard; Cillian Murphy as Dr. Crane/Scarecrow; Gary Oldman as Sergeant Gordon (not yet the Commissioner), and Katie Holmes as Generic Love Inter—I mean, as Rachel Dawes. Rutger Hauer makes an appearance as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and Morgan Freeman steps in as Lucius Fox, who is the Q to Batman’s James Bond.

With that sort of cast, you’ve got to expect something good out of the film. Fortunately, Nolan gives us a lot more. Batman Begins is the best entry in the franchise (though Burton’s first two films run very close behind). Gone is the sweeping impressionism and Wagnerian romanticism of the Burton era; Begins reboots the cinematic Batman myth. At least half the film is devoted to showing us how Bruce Wayne goes from millionaire orphan to costume-clad vigilante. The story does a good job of building Wayne’s character, and Bale gives us the most compelling and interesting Wayne to date (though it takes at least twenty minutes too long to finally see Batman in full regalia). Nolan seems interested in showing us the nuts and bolts of Wayne’s operation, and while this adds a degree of realism (if such a thing is possible in a superhero film), it starts to bog down the story.

Fortunately it picks right back up when Batman finally appears. What I like about this Batman is his humanity; the new bat-suit has a more pliable mask, allowing Bale to actually emote. Bale takes a cue from Keaton and gives Batman a harsh, grating voice. His Batman also screws up once in a while; he trips, he falls, he gets bruised and battered.

But as good as Bale is, the best performance comes, as always, from Gary Oldman, who vanishes beneath a thick rust-colored mustache to become Sergeant Jim Gordon, the weary Gotham City cop who clings to his integrity with a kind of resigned hopelessness. He’s the only one who trusts Batman (and vice versa).

The film does have a few problems. Composer Hans Zimmer’s lackluster score offers nothing in the way of memorable motifs; I sorely missed Danny Elfman’s epic themes from the Burton films. The fight scenes are mostly incomprehensible, giving us half-second close-ups of limbs with no indication of who’s hitting whom. And I didn’t care for Holmes, whose role seems wedged into the plot.

But Batman Begins is a promising start to a revitalized Batman franchise. Here’s hoping the same cast (sans Holmes) and Nolan return for the sequels.

Star Wars Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith

A few days before the release of Star Wars/Episode III/Revenge of the Sith/etc., Star Wars creator and certifiable megalomaniac George Lucas offered his opinion on why so many fans of the franchise were disappointed with the prequels. According to Lucas, “”The older [fans] are loyal to the first three films I made, and they are the ones in control of the media. The films that these people don’t like—which are the first two prequels—are fanatically adored by the under-25s. They are always at each others throats about it.”

That’s right, it’s not Jews who control the media, like the stereotype says; it’s the Star Wars fans.

Unfortunately, Lucas is wrong. The prequels may be better liked by kids, but that’s because they don’t know any better—I watched and loved a lot of crap when I was a kid (He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, anyone?). No, George, there is one very good reason the older, wiser fans don’t like your new movies: they’re bad.

For the five or six people who don’t know what happens in this movie, here’s a summary: the big bad guy, called alternately Chancellor Palpatine and Darth Sidious depending on how much wrinkle cream he put on that morning, tempts Anakin Skywalker (Hayden Christensen) to the Dark Side. Anakin becomes very, very naughty, kills a lot of people, falls in lava and ends up in a big black suit with an inordinately loud respirator.

There are some great battles and a few effective scenes. Ian McDiarmid turns in a wonderfully hammy but effective performance as Sidious, a.k.a. the Emperor, and his seduction of Anakin to the Dark Side is actually somewhat convincing (from his side, at least—Christensen doesn’t offer much in the way of acting here).

As I’ve told many people—at length, and despite their pleas—I think the prequels could have written themselves. A problem with the prequels is that, according to the off-screen mythos established in the Star Wars lore (and Lucas takes all that stuff very seriously—he has an entire department devoted to “continuity” in the Star Wars universe of movies, novels, videogames, and so forth)—according to this mythos, Darth Vader hunted down all the Jedi and, presumably, slaughtered a lot of other people besides. So, by making the prequels about Anakin Skywalker’s rise and fall, Lucas was essentially giving us a story about the rise of a Hitler. It doesn’t help that the films are loaded with strange lessons like “fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering”—I won’t argue with the last one, but there is such a thing as righteous anger, and fear is a natural human emotion that should be understood, not suppressed.

The prequels should have been about Obi-Wan and his failure with Anakin, not Anakin’s fall to the Dark Side, with Obi-Wan as a supporting character. But there was a point in this movie when I thought, “Well, they haven’t made Anakin that bad…maybe, other than a few Jedi and a few strangled Imperial captains, he wasn’t as evil as all that, which could make this whole thing work…”

…and then he killed some kids.

That was about it for me. Child-murderers do not deserve sweeping six-film epics devoted to them, period. Near the end of the film, after Anakin’s pregnant wife Padme (a hapless Natalie Portman, clearly aware of how terrible her lines are) has found out about the children, she still tries to talk him into running away with her and leaving the Dark Side, which—after the child-killing—makes her seem like one of those women who clings to her abusive husband. It’s creepy and disturbing, and it doesn’t help that Portman’s dialogue seems to have been cobbled together from Lucas’s copy of The Big Book of Clichéd Dialogue.

Allegedly Tom Stoppard gave the Revenge of the Sith script a once-over. I don’t believe it. Lucas apparently said that these films should be considered “silent films.” Great idea, George—I could imagine the characters were speaking interesting, subtle dialogue, rather than the laughably bad material Lucas came up with. Did he really sit in front of a computer, cup of coffee in hand, and ponder over lines like “I don’t know you anymore”?

The original films actually have a number of funny lines—mostly coming from C-3PO and Han Solo. The prequels, sadly, have no Han Solo character at all. Han Solo is the Everyman character of the original movies; he’s the one people can identify with. He has no supernatural powers. He consistently points out how ridiculous every given situation is. He has real motivations—early on, he’s in it for the money, and later, for love.

Rewatching the original films recently, I’ll admit that there’s a lot about them that hasn’t held up. But they’re still far, far better than the prequels.

And Han Solo is still the man.

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