Review: Queen of Katwe

Queen of Katwe (2016): Written by William Wheeler, directed by Mira Nair.  Starring: Madina Nalwanga, Lupita Nyong’o, and David Oyelowo.  Running Time: 124 minutes.  Based on the book of the same name by Tim Crothers. 

Rating: 3/4

            In many ways, Queen of Katwe hails from a long tradition of dime-a-dozen biopic pics, a story of a person with a prodigal talent who, through a combination of smart mentorship and good luck, rises out of obscurity (and often depravation to boot) to gain the sort of fame and fortune they otherwise could only have dreamed of.  This particular film never really rises above the kind of storytelling formula this entails, which does hold it back from being genuinely groundbreaking.  However, it is anchored by so many powerful and indelibly charming performances by its sprawling cast that it still holds its own, and makes for an extremely compelling watch. 

            Our setting is the small (and extremely poor) Ugandan village of Katwe, where a single mother, Harriet, (played by legend-to-be Lupita Nyong’o), fights tooth and nail to clothe, feed, and raise her four surviving children following the death of their father and another child.  It’s a living that demands endless resourcefulness and a tough hide, especially with the oldest daughter, Night, being courted by the sort of man Harriet refers to with contempt as a “hyena.”  Their days mostly consist of selling corn in the marketplace, with all members of the family taking part, but the middle children, Phiona and Theo, are soon distracted from their usual tasks when they are drawn to a local chess club organized by Robert (David Oyelowo), an aspiring engineer forced to make ends meet for his young family by working for a local ministry in youth outreach. 

            While hardly a master of the game himself, he quickly realizes he has a potential prodigy on his hands in Phiona, who learns the ins and outs of the game very rapidly despite having no formal education of any kind.  He soon starts pushing more and more for her and her fellow chess players (most of whom, not just Phiona, are indeed extremely talented) to attend various national and even international tournaments, and this quiet, unassuming, soft-spoken girl from a forgotten corner of Uganda soon becomes a beloved icon in her hometown and indeed throughout her country when she begins to win a number of prestigious awards. 

            A big strength for this film, especially in light of certain recurring tendencies in Western cinema, is that no white savior to be found.  This is a movie by and about Africans, and while that may seem like something rather sad to make a point out of in the 21^st century, I couldn’t help but feel a certain relief when this struck me.  By preventing any distracting focus on white vs black racism, the movie is able to focus its nuances on more subtle differences within many African communities, especially between the more wealthy, cosmopolitan cities and the slums; some of the boys first agree to join the club only after Robert dangles the prospect of them getting the chance to show up “those city boys.” 

            Indeed, the movie never really does go for an overarching “message,” but its undertones about how mutual dislike and stereotyping- of ALL sorts- can affect relationships and hold people back from being their best selves.  One of the film’s most powerful moments occurs when, on their way to their first big tournament, the children first see King’s College.  Despite it being just a short drive from their village, it may as well be another planet for how strange, new, and alien it is to them. 

            There are many aspects of the narrative that don’t work- the beginning is very choppy and it takes a while to establish who is who, and what their relationships to each other are- and while there is some second-act examination of how burgeoning stardom starts to go to Phiona’s head, it’s never really developed in a way that’s more than perfunctory.  Nonetheless, Madina Nalwanga is a revelation in the title role, and she is more than adequately backed up by powerhouses David Oyelowo and Lupita Nyong’o (both as remarkable as always) as the adults with the most influence over her life.  Lupita’s ability to convey the acute pains of a loving (yet demanding!) parent forced to face the limits of her ability to teach her child, and the need to, eventually, allow her to find her own way, is sweet and poignant and heartbreaking all at once, often captured in a mere glance.  I’ve missed seeing her on the big screen so, so much.  

           

            Much to its credit, Queen of Katwe avoids going for soaring music, loud oratory, or big, overblown emotional scenes with its characters to get its remarkable story across.  It relies on the immense talent of its cast and their ability to reveal the human spirit that ebbs and flows and thrives even in the midst of despair, and that is always ready to peak out and shine when given the right opportunity.  It is, above else, heartwarming and inspirational, which is all it ever needed to be. 

-Noah Franc 

Review: Suicide Squad

Suicide Squad (2016): “Written” and “directed” by David Ayer.  Starring: Will Smith, Margot Robbie, Viola Davis, Joel Kinnamon, Jai Courtney, Jay Hernandez, Adewale Akinnouye-Agbaje, Ike Barinholtz, Scott Eastwood, Cara Develingnine, and Jared Leto.  Running Time: 123 minutes. 

Rating: 2/4

            Suicide Squad is a bizarre case of a film.  It’s a brilliant concept featuring great (and sometimes inspired) casting, but undercuts itself constantly with inconsistent writing, shoddy editing, and a story that manages to be both impossibly convoluted and laughably simple.  The result is another film in the mold of Interstellar or Walter Mitty, where the final product ends up leagues behind what was promised by freaking amazing trailers. 

            For the uninitiated (or the blissfully ignorant), this is the third installment in the DC superhero universe that is supposed to be a fun, rompy inverse of the superhero-focused narratives of Man of Steel and Dawn of Justice.  A secret government organization ruthlessly led by Amanda Waller (a fantastically cold Viola Davis) has managed to track down and incarcerate some of the leading bad guys in the world, including Deadshot (Will Smith), Harley Quinn (Margot Robbie), Captain Boomerang (Jai Courtney), El Diablo (Jay Hernandez), The Enchantress (Cara Delevingne) and Killer Croc (Adewale Akinnouye-Agbaje).  Deciding that the world can’t afford to wait and see if the next Superman to pop around has the same moral standing as the recently-deceased Clark Kent, she decides to preempt that shit by forcing all these crazy evil dudes, plus one dudette, to serve together as a superpowered (and both morally and legally expendable) SWAT team. 

            This immediately proves to be as flawless an idea as Tony Stark’s plan to save the world by creating Ultron.  The Enchantress instantly goes rogue, revives her brother, and begins plotting to destroy the world (OF COURSE), so of course it’s up to the Suicide Squad to try and save the day while surviving long enough to get their sentences reduced. 

            In a nutshell, Suicide Squad wants so very much to be the next Deadpool, but simply doesn’t have the humor, self-awareness, or sheer manic energy needed to pull it off.  Given the rumors of extensive productive troubles, including script rewrites, several re-shootings, and the director’s questionable methods for motivating his actors, this may very well just be a product of there being way too many cooks trying to stick their hands into the stew to keep it from failing, only to have the end product come out even worse as a result.  Character motivations seem to change on a dime, there are huge gaping problems with plot continuity, and the Jared Leto’s massively-over-hyped Joker (the one bit of straight-up bad casting in the whole film) ends up seeming like a plot thread meant to have a movie all its own that just…disappears somewhere along the line, and only reappears in a slapdash of an ending. 

            The visual design of the film has the same issues that plague its entire franchise- it’s too dark, too grimy, and too muddled to make much of anything out, with the camera spending way too much time in close-up shots to give you any sense of the action.  Both the trailers and the movie posters are awash in bright, fantastic neon colors, and that SHOULD have been the color scheme for the film itself- there’s no other way to really sell this sort of concept, and it would have made for such a blessed change from the dreary color scheme of so many other blockbuster films of late.  There are clever music cues used to introduce each character, but like so much else, this is another great concept left dangling incomplete around the edges. 

            And yet, despite being such a riotously hot mess, this movie is not totally unsalvageable.  For all the misfires in the surrounding production departments, this remains a solid cast with very believable chemistry, and I certainly laughed plenty while watching.  Will Smith, Viola Davis, Margot Robbie, and Jai Courtney alone are charismatic and funny enough in their roles that I would still recommend seeing the movie just for them.   I found Viola Davis to be particularly fascinating; a black woman in a position of ridiculous power, who’s also a ruthless hardass to boot.  She’s easily one of the most fascinating characters we’ve yet seen in either of our two main superhero universes (both of which remain shamefully weak in the villain department), but given the Totesweg the DC cinematic experiment is currently on, I fear we won’t get another chance to see her in a better film. 

            It’s a real shame that this one ended up being another disappointment in a summer depressingly full of them, as I had high hopes for this one.  Not that I’ve ever placed much emotional stock in the success or failure of the superhero film universe, but it would be nice to something genuinely fresh break through the slog of the past few years.  Ah well.  At least we have more Star Wars fare to look forward to this winter. 

-Noah Franc 

In Memoriam: Gene Wilder

            Some people establish themselves as giants of film through the sheer volume of their work, becoming so ubiquitous and visible that they can’t possibly be ignored.  Others, though, through either the vagaries of Fate or simply personal choice, don’t have as long of a filmography, and gain the heights of cinematic Olympus by having just one or a handful of roles so powerful and iconic, so influential, that the rest of their work (or lack thereof) effectively doesn’t matter. 

            One such person was Gene Wilder.  While he mostly retired from on-screen work after the 80’s, the combination of his touchstone performance as Willy Wonka and his collaboration with Mel Brooks on three of the greatest film comedies of all time (Blazing Saddles, The Producers, and Young Frankenstein), all of which came out in the 60’s and 70’s, have long assured his immortality to lovers of great acting and great storytelling. 

            The moment that, for me, perfectly sums up his power as a performer and a comedian happens in his very first scene with Zero Mostel in The Producers, where he plays a somewhat hapless corporate accountant who is eventually drawn into the seedy underbelly of Broadway showbiz by the (literally) seductive Mostel.  This entire opening remains a gold standard of cinematic comedy in terms of its writing, visuals, and characterization, but its highlight is a moment where the *ever-so-slightly* neurotic Wilder, growing increasingly nervous and agitated over Mostel’s scheme and sleazy behavior, takes out his little blue security blanket to calm himself down.  Mostel, curious, grabs it out of his hand, and Wilder’s resulting flip-out is, quite simply, beyond words.  It’s a perfect example of sheer, instinctive acting, the sort of thing only someone with a talent like Wilder’s could make even remotely believable.  You can’t script it, you can’t plan for it, and God help you if you try to copy it. 

            I’m amazed, looking back, by how old Wilder looked, even back then, and how little his face seemed to change over the years.  There was such age, wisdom, and even a tint of sadness in his eyes, and it lent an air of seriousness to all his roles.  Which, maybe, was one of the keys to them being so damn memorable. 

            Some might say it’s a shame Wilder couldn’t establish himself as well as a director, or that he should have kept up making movies throughout his life.  Personally, I think his core work is so strong, so perfect, and holds up so well that I couldn’t have ever wished for more from the man.  He’s left us some remarkable treasures to remember him by, and I feel it will be some time indeed before we have a generation untouched by this man’s gift for bringing a smile to just about anyone’s face. 

            Rest in peace, Gene.  We love you still. 

-Noah Franc 

Review: The Lobster

The Lobster (2016): Written by Yorgos Lanthimos and Efthymis Filippou, directed by Yorgos Lanthimos.  Starring: Colin Farrell, Rachel Weisz, Jessica Barden, Olivia Colman, Ashley Jensen, Ariane Labed, Angeliki Papoulia, John C. Reilly, Lea Seydoux, Michael Smiley, and Ben Whishaw.  Running Time: 118 minutes. 

Rating: 3/4

            The Lobster might be one of the coldest, hardest films of 2016, and although we may still have a few months to go, I highly doubt anything will top it (knock on wood).  It is a dark, dark, DARK satire of dating and romance in the 21^st-century, so on-point at its best that it will be far too uncomfortable viewing for most.  Yet that, perhaps, makes it all the more necessary. 

            Colin Farrell stars as David, living in a world where constantly being in a relationship isn’t just socially desired, it’s legally mandated.  Those unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of a breakup (or even the opposite end of a spousal death!) must immediately check themselves into a hotel that specializes in coupling people back up as soon as possible.  There is a 45-day time limit to your efforts, and if, by the end of that time, you have failed to find your soulmate, you are literally turned into an animal (but to be fair, they DO let you choose which one) and let loose in a nearby forest. 

            We don’t know how we got here, how long things have been like this, or even how the technology to turn people into other animals exists.  It simply is, and the audience has to quickly play catchup to figure out what the characters already know, because there are a lot of rules that have to be followed, and the punishments the hotel metes out for those who don’t play along can be truly brutal.  One of the rules, perhaps the most galling (and ultimately destructive), is that in order to become a couple, two people must have at least one identifiable skill, or interest, or physical/emotional trait.  If not, it won’t be accepted, because clearly there can’t be love if there are no surface similarities between two people, right? 

            The ultimate cost of all this quickly becomes apparent- in a world where love is commodified and packaged down to people hooking up over having just a single thing in common, there can be no passion.  No real joy or sadness.  Just endless calculation over what the right move is that will save you from “The Transformation Room.”  There is no subtlety or understanding of symbolism in speech- no one in the hotel can afford it.  Conversations are just repeated litanies of trivia tidbits, and everyone speaks in a monotone, tilted, highly formal manner, with just a hint of desperation around the edges for those whose time is running out. 

            We get a small idea of what sort of larger world might exist outside the hotel in the second act- when David finally loses his cool and flees the hotel (after a plot twist that is genuinely bone-chilling), he encounters a group of rebels living in the woods called the Loners, led by a terrifying Lea Seydoux.  At first, you might be inclined to assume that safety and acceptance have been found, and David can take a deep breath and relax.  But you would be wrong, as the Loners turn out to be just as demanding and strict in keeping people alone and separated from each other as “regular society” is in forcing people together.  It’s a powerful and apt reminder that rejection of one extreme doesn’t automatically lead to moderation- it can just as easily lead one to embrace another, equally destructive, extreme. 

            The film’s greatest strength is that it unflinchingly commits to these extremist principles it sets up in the beginning, drawing them to the farthest conclusion possible.  This may very well kill for the film for many viewers.  There is no emotional shift, no deviation from the lifeless tone of every bit of dialogue; it fits with the environment the movie seeks to create, but if you find yourself tiring of it early on it may prove impossible to appreciate anything else as a result.  Like many needed and remarkable works of art, the film raises a host of prickly, uncomfortable questions and leaves little suggestion that a reassuring answer can be found.  I wonder if the film doesn’t tip its hand too much at times, leaning wholly into existential despair and thus becoming lost in its own bleakness, but I can’t deny that much of it has stayed with me, for better or worse, and I can certainly never fault a film for that. 

-Noah Franc  

Reflections: The End of Bleach (God Help Us)

            Oh, Lord. 

            So.  Bleach ended.  About 3 years (3 endless years) after telegraphing that this final arc would be the last of Kubo’s massive, sprawling action series, Bleach has achieved the strange and dubious distinction of having an ending both interminably long and shockingly brief, and I’m honestly not sure which is worse.    

            I confess that I know very little about why it was decided to end Bleach so suddenly this year, but what I think is clear is that the choice was not entirely Kubo’s (if he even had a choice at all).  The clearest victim of this choice ended up being the simple fact that what Kubo clearly intended to be a sprawling epic of a last story, involving returns of nearly every major character from the course of the entire series, was chopped down to a rapid and hazy resolution of only the most pressing issues of the story. 

            Retracing and recreating the vast, endless maze of plot threads, character arcs, and battles that, despite Kubo’s earlier hinting, never actually happened or were clearly abridged is something I will not even begin to attempt here, because it would be a guaranteed, one-way ticket to a fate worse that Jack’s in The Shining.  Suffice it to say that the way the finale of the series actually went down is mind-boggling.  These last few chapters were easily the worst of the entire series, a statement that I do not make lightly. 

            I mean, Naruto had issues.  It had some REALLY big issues.  But at least it stuck to enough of its core storylines, adequately fulfilling and resolving them in the final chapter, to make it worth seeing through to the end, and to give its last moments a fitting sense of finality and emotional weight.  For a series so big and long-running, it’s stupendously hard, and I once would have said near-impossible, to create an ending with absolutely no sense of importance to it, or at least a bit of nostalgic sadness. 

            Yet, somehow, Bleach pulled it off.  There’s just no way to put it nicely- this ending was an absolute dumpster-fire, in every sense of the word.  Of all the long-running issues with the franchise I flagged earlier, none of them changed or were improved upon down the stretch in the slightest.  This is a series that decided to end with the literal death of God and the possible annihilation of all matter and being in the universe, which even Naruto didn’t try to do.  And yet, we somehow managed to reach the absolute nadir of the series by resolving this stupendously ambitious plot concept with a “fight” that barely qualified as such, with everything boiling down to a handful of hastily-explained plot twists with no buildup or forshadowing.  Every bit of it felt perfunctory, as if Kubo simply decided to passively dot the I’s and cross the T’s he had to, but had resolved to do no more than that, so that he could just get this mess over with.  And nothing is more devastating to the resolution of a story than when it’s pervaded by the sense that even the story’s creator doesn’t give a damn. 

            Perhaps this ending could have been salvaged if Ichigo had at least gotten some strong moments as a character, to reflect on where he was at the beginning of the series and how much he’d gone through and changed over the years.  But nope. 

            Perhaps if Chad and Orihime had gotten some form of redemption for being shat on in earlier arcs by being part of the fight to defeat Juha Bach, with maybe Rukia and Renji thrown in, Bleach could have recaptured some of the team camaraderie that made the early chapters such a joy.  But nope. 

            Perhaps if (and I know this one is a shocker) Uryu had actually had something to do in a years-long arc about effing QUINCIES, and the apparent subplot about his playing the part of a double-agent had actually gone anywhere, the story would have not felt like a massive bubble of empty air meant merely to justify Kubo drawing out his penchant for ethnically stereotypical battle fetishes.  But nope. 

            But if I’m honest, even if any of the above had happened, I doubt it would have been enough.  This series was already way too far gone by the end.  Long before this arc was even announced, the rift between the first 170-180 chapters of the series and what it later became had widened into a chasm that no amount of decent writing could bridge.  I tried to think of ways I could sum up just how much about this series has changed (beyond what I’ve written already), and just couldn’t come up with anything, because it really is beyond words at this point.  I don’t know if I can say that Bleach necessarily betrayed its origins (I think there’s a better argument to made that Naruto did that), but it certainly became much more unrecognizable, and the writing substantially more lazy, especially where the fights were concerned. 

            It didn’t help that none of the conclusions or fates given to the remaining characters felt in any way important or fitting.  Really, none of them.  Chad didn’t even get facetime outside of a shot of a TV, for Christ’s sake.  The possible exception was Rukia achieving the rank of Captain, which was definitely a good ending as far as she was concerned, but even that was robbed of a sense of triumph because everything around it felt so empty, like the dead vacuum of outer space. 

            Ugh.  This is all just really, really depressing.  I stand by my past assertion that, in the early days, Bleach was solid enough and had enough potential to surpass both Naruto and One Piece and have the grandest, most interesting story out of all the Shonen Big 3.  And here it is, ending suddenly, in dishonor, at a level of quality lower than anything I had imagined possible.  Like with all cases of a good or even great story idea going sour, the most fitting word I can find is sad, because if there’s one thing we can never have enough of in the world, it’s good stories. 

            So ends the tale of Ichigo and co., I suppose.  But thankfully, hope in the world of manga is not gone.  After this ending I need to detox for a bit, and once that’s over with I will have the time expound on one of my favorite topics- why One Piece has not only avoided the decline suffered by Naruto and Bleach, but has even managed to get better over the past decade.  Stay tuned. 

-Noah Franc 

Review: How To Let Go Of The World (and Love All the Things Climate Can’t Change)

How To Let Go Of The World: Written and directed by Josh Fox.  Starring: Josh Fox.  Running Time: 125 minutes. 

Rating:  4/4

            Almost as soon as I saw the How To Let Go trailer, I realized I’d been desperately wishing for a movie like this.  For all the positive news in the fight against climate change, there is still such a long way to go and so many ways things can go wrong that it is impossible to completely avoid moments of despair.  I am certainly no stranger to feeling despair over the future of our world, and I know many others are as well. 

            Josh Fox begins his latest work by describing the moment when he fell into this seemingly intractable despair- after celebrating the triumph of his hometown over efforts by the fracking industry to develop nearby forests (which inspired his Oscar-nominated work Gasland, he was shaken out of his reverie when he found out a tree he’d planted years before as a child was now dying, victim of a particular type of woody adelgid, whose destructive range has been spreading North thanks to the effects of climate change. 

            Rattled by the implications of this, he begins a series of interviews with climate experts of various stripes and backgrounds, and the overlaying descriptions they provide of the many thousand small ways that alterations in the climate are rapidly building into a truly global catastrophe for both the natural world and human society leaves him feeling, in his own repeated word, “overwhelmed,” completely at a loss as to how to grasp the scope of the disasters unfolding.  If it’s already too late to avoid losing much of what we love in the world, how can we even begin to grieve? 

            Upon hitting this rock-bottom, Fox’s first instinct was to stay home and just shut it all away.  His second ran directly counter to the first- if he’d hit such a miserable low contemplating the coming tidal wave of climate change, there must be others who’d reached the same point.  And he resolved to go out into the world, find them, and find out if and how they were able to pick themselves back up and keep going, in spite of all they stood to lose. 

            His journey eventually encompassed over 12 countries and led to his meeting an astounding and inspiring variety of people from every background imaginable; independent locals in the Amazon who work to track down the latest oil leaks, boatsmen from various Pacific Islands who banded together to literally stop an Australian coal tanker in its tracks (while shouting “We aren’t drowning, we are fighting!”), community organizers who stuck around after Hurricane Sandy to provide for New York and New Jersey locals abandoned by the authorities, a mother working to raise awareness of smog pollution in Beijing, a local African chief using small solar panels to light up village schools after dark, and many others. 

            Much of this film’s power is its acknowledgement of the fact that these are all small people, taking small steps.  And it might be too late, and even if more people did stuff like this it could still end up being not enough.  But there is something powerful in the effort.  For Fox, it’s a reminder of the parts of us and our societies that can never change, no matter what happens with the climate.  Familial love, the power of community bonds, and the importance of helping each other out when in need, are the sort of things that we are always capable of, and there is an importance in that. 

            As the title suggests, this is a film that’s partially about go of all that’s beyond our grasp.  Not that it sugarcoats it, or makes it out to seem easy; it’s hard to let go, especially of something as wonderfully diverse and majestic as the Earth.  Seeing a recent study estimating that up to half of all bird species in North America would become either extinct or endangered as a result of severe warning produced something akin to tearing sensation inside of me.  How could I possibly accept raising my children in a world where they can only experience half the forest sounds I did growing up? 

            There is, perhaps, one possible path to salvation.  One Chinese activist, speaking with Fox atop the Great Wall, speaks of the “moral imagination-“ the times in history when human thought has taken a leap beyond its time and produced ideas about what the world should be like, providing a beacon for people to work towards.  The moral imagination is perhaps the key to realizing our potential to take advantage of these times and change for the better. 

            It’s often been the actions of individuals or small groups that have gotten the ball rolling, and with modern technology, the individual and the small can be amplified like never before.  The capacity of the governments and the large to silence dissent weakens with each passing day.  Is the power of the moral imagination where hope for Earth and civilization is to be found?  It HAS happened before, despite all the odds, and maybe it takes all of us doing very small things for it to happen again. 

            This is a powerful piece of documentary filmmaking, and an absolutely necessary part of the conversation taking place about how to salvage what we can from the wreckage of human shortsightedness.  Positivity and optimism are key, but we equally need the capacity to feel, experience, and acknowledge our fears despairs, and worries if we are to be clear-eyed enough for the challenges facing us. 

-Noah Franc 

Review: Star Trek Beyond

Star Trek Beyond (2016): Written by Simon Pegg and Doug Jung, directed by Justin Lin.  Starring: Chris Pine, Simon Pegg, John Cho, Sofia Boutella, Zachary Quinto, Zoe Saldana, Karl Urban, Anton Yelchin, Idris Elba.  Running Time: 122 minutes. 

Rating: 3/4

            Although it’s really only been a few short years, it feels like ages since we last had a Star Trek film.  After my review of the last one kind of wentoff the rails, I was in forced detox mode for some time, and could only be spoken to about the original series (and Next Gen, obviously).  But now that ol’ J.J. has scampered off to leave his prints on another pillar of modern Sci-Fi (and has proven to be markedly better at it that he was at making Star Trek), and after nearly a decade of this series officially existing, we finally get a movie worthy of this franchise’s remarkable cast. 

            The last film left off with the Enterprise about to set off on its 5-year mission to explore the cosmos, and we start off here after 3 of those years have passed.  In need of a bit of “shore leave,” the ship docks in the latest, most technologically advanced outpost the Federation has yet built, a marvel of buildings and homes spiraling around each other inside a massive glass shield.  After a great introduction to the Federation version of the Elysium Fields, a broken-down ship with a single passenger comes tumbling out of a nearby nebula, seeking help for her crew stranded on a massive planet in the nebula’s center. 

            As required by official Star Trek law, the Enterprise is the only ship in the vicinity, and is dispatched to locate the planet and the crew.  Right after locating the planet(the nebula is as disappointingly easy to traverse as the God Fog from Star Trek 5), though, a strange fleet of swarming, bee-like ships attack, literally tearing the enterprise into pieces and forcing the entire crew to evacuate ship, only to have most of them swooped up by the enemy ships and taken prisoner. 

            Separated into several groups, the crew must struggle to find their way back to each other and stop a looming threat to the Federation that, they learn, has been festering on this world for a long, long time.  Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty, and Chekov are able to escape capture, but Urahara and Sulu are part of the surviving group taken by the forces of Krall (Idris Elba), a strange being with a power that lets him literally drain the life out of others.  What (and who) he constitutes a late plot development, so all I will say here is that Elba succeeds in making Krall by the far the most interesting, engaging, and intimidating bad guy in this entire trilogy. 

            Another unforgettable new character (who I expect will become a new cosplay standard for Cons) is Jaylah, a warrior stranded on the same planet who, after meeting Scotty, agrees to aid him and the others in their attempts to rescue the remaining crew.  She is a legit scene-stealer, a perfect foil for Scotty and the others, and getting to see her kick more ass is the only remaining reason I have to want to see another film in this franchise. 

            With Abrams off the set, there’s also a blessed absence of lens flare, making this the best-looking and best-shot film of the trilogy as well, and Michael Giacchino’s score wonderfully accompanies the slick visuals.  While the film does feel a bit rushed at times (there are a few story parts that don’t add up, and it feels like some stuff with Jaylah and Krall got cut for time’s sake), it mostly jives along at an expertly brisk pace.  It even finds room for a hilarious musical scene that might be the funniest visual sequence I’ve seen so far this year.  It’s a great example of the kind of cheesy, off-the-wall cheekiness that used to be a hallmark of the original show, but that had been mostly missing from this reboot. 

            Star Trek Beyond is an immensely fun time, easily the best Star Trek film to hit theaters since the original cast hung up their Starfleet uniforms, and well worth a viewing for any devoted Trekkie.  May the world of Gene Roddenberry continue to live long and prosper. 

-Noah Franc