Suicide Squad Fails to Set Itself Apart

This poster is more colorful than the characters or the film.

Ever since Marvel's Avengers broke the box office in 2012, superhero movies have become the mainstream of the mainstream in Hollywood. The studios thrown them out systematically, leaving the audiences enough time to digest one's events without allowing them to lose momentum and interest in the next. As such, formulaic structures are to be expected, but not enough to stifle good storytelling and creativity.

Even in the superhero genre, the producers are expected to do more than insert scenario A and plot points one, two, and three to come out with a stale story arc. When the movie is titled Suicide Squad and the marketing focused around a bunch of comic book bad guys thrown together against their will and being rebellious at every step, the creative personnel are certainly expected to add something out of the ordinary.

Suicide Squad, however, is anticlimactic in virtually every sense of the word. It is merely another special effects dominated light show that falls right in step with the superhero (or super-antihero) assembly line. No risks are taken, no ground broken, and yet it will do the one thing it is designed to do--make money.

Much like Avengers, a mismatched and dysfunctional group of powered individuals are forced to work together and form an uneasy alliance. Unlike Marvel's showpiece, DC's latest episode gives us the five-to-ten minute backstory behind each character and waits until about a third of the way through to really ramp up the story. Director David Ayer, who has certainly done better work (i.e Fury, Training Day), could have easily cut the exposition phase in half and used the difference to create legitimate conflict rather than the artificial uneasiness that comes through in theaters. 

Ayer deserves double blame for the convoluted film because he is the sole credited writer. The script is not only formulaic, but has numerous holes. 

As a result, the audience cannot fully invest themselves in the characters' plight. Will Smith's "Deadshot" is perhaps the closest the film gets to solid characterization, as he is at the center of the movie's brighter moments, and Margot Robbie's hyper-objectified Harley Quinn is a distant second. The rest, however, are just along for the ride (and some advance advertising for a later DC film). The actors are not given the space to really give their characters a fighting chance for respectability. Yes, we know why they are doing what they do (they have someone they love or they love themselves enough to want to continue living), but anything more is completely lost.

Another casualty is the potentially world-ending situation created by Enchantress (Cara Delevigne) and her brother Incubus (Robert Atkin Downes). No longer worshiped like gods, they want to wipe out humanity. Cliched? Yes. Standard fare for DC? Also yes. Although the situation is hard to buy into as it stands, the film completely eliminates the suspended disbelief necessary for a film of this nature to truly work. 

Ayer continues Zack Snyder's pattern of including biblical references in an odd and unhelpful manner in regards to why they are even in the film, again proving how much Suicide Squad is not rebellious but heavily conformed to the norm. 

Considering how starved for creativity and good storytelling DC's norm is, that is a very bad sign. 

269 Words, An Argument for Not Beating a Dead Horse

Picture this: a crowd of people have just finished hearing a lung-busting, long-winded two-hour oration from a well-known speaker. They wait for their president, the man they sent to the Washington to fix a nation that had literally fallen apart, to give the dedicatory remarks for the many men who died at Gettysburg. Perhaps some are figuring out how to stay awake through another overly long speech. Then, in less than two minutes, it's all over. The place is silent, and President Lincoln is not yet aware of how significant his words will be.

Lincoln's Gettysburg Address, of course, is now deemed immortal and regarded among the greatest examples of public oration. He wrote everything in his speech, and did not need the help of a speechwriter. In the end, the word count came out to only 269 words.

Just 269 words.

Depending on the size of your handwriting, or the font on your word processor, the length could not be more than a page or a page and a half. Yet that is all Lincoln needed to sum up the occasion and the grave task ahead for the United States.

His example should be brought up now that the country is preparing to face one of the most heated election seasons in a long time.

Politicians are an interesting breed. They constantly make compromises that undercut their own authority, while retaining an egotism that allows them to keep on speaking 'til the cows the come home. Both parties' leading men, in recent days, have made long speeches outlining their worldview or how they plan to address the nation's problems.

President Obama turned a memorial speech for the five slain Dallas Policemen into a credo on race relations and sprinkled in his political agendas from time to time. As a result, a speech that should have been about 20 minutes stretched out to 45 minutes and lost a much-needed tight focus.

Not long later, Donald Trump accepted the GOP nomination with a harsh attack on the state of American and world affairs that lasted well over an hour. In that time slot, he repeated his points many times over and would have been better served by charging forward and stay focused on his platform's goals.

When Hillary Clinton accepts the Democratic nomination, one can only expect her to deliver something of similar length. She will, undoubtedly, spend much of her time attacking her highly divisive opponent.

That will not be the last speech. The election is still three months off.

The candidates would do well to remember the man we, without qualification, now call the greatest president in American history and the 269 words he needed to grasp the heart of the occasion. Brevity will go much further than beating the proverbial dead horse.

Movie Review - X-Men: Apocalypse, All Surface and No Substance

If X-Men: Apocalypse was a Bond girl, then her name would be Cliche Galore. She would be an airhead, a simple-minded gold-digger with artificially enhanced looks and virtually no substance. 007 would rather order a martini (shaken, not stirred, of course) than waste his time on her.

To make matters worse, this girl wants to be taken seriously, to be something more than mere window dressing. Given the result, that should not happen. She may dream of something more and convince herself that such a role is possible. Unfortunately for her, however, the people responsible for filling her out and making her seem like a real, full-blooded woman have failed. She's there for surface enjoyment, nothing more.

Gratuitous promotional poster.

Harsh words, perhaps, but make no mistake, Apocalypse is likely the most disappointing installment in the X-Men universe. The film not only fell into one of the oldest traps in show-business, that more isn't less, it also managed to cover almost every cliche in the superhero book. This is true all across the board.

For a breather, let's address one of the few positives in the film: the relationship between Magneto (Michael Fassbender) and Professor X (James McAvoy). The dynamic between the two is compelling because the actors portraying them put in solid performances, easily the best showings in the film. One might wonder how it would have turned out if the focus on them was tighter than the diluted final version.

Back to the bad stuff.

Bryan Singer, the director, obviously forgot the things that worked with First Class and Days of Future Past. Why else would he try to cram in five or six origin stories into an already overloaded film? The two aforementioned X-Men installments had a tighter lens and did not try to do too much, while Apocalypse did. As a result, the movie turned into a spin-off of celebrity spotting (minus the element of surprise). When a character popped-up, got his signature look, or became fully realized the audience would go: "Ooh, look!"

Then there's good ol' Apocalypse (Oscar Isaac), the ancient mutant with a god complex. He rises from an ancient slumber to reclaim the world he believes is his to rule. To do this, he picks out his Four Horsemen, Storm (Alexandra Shipp), Psylocke (Olivia Munn), Angel (Ben Hardy), and Magneto. Also, he has absolutely no complexity, and he is prone to random fits of shouting seemingly bad-ass but pointless lines. In other words, Apocalypse could not be a more cliched bad guy. Simon Kinberg, the guy who got credit for writing the screenplay, seems to have taken the easy way out when it comes to creating an antagonist.

Can you get any more cliched? I think not.

The rest of the writing is also pretty flat. The story is almost non-existent and skims over the most compelling parts to throw in an overblown CGI action sequence that last much, much, much longer than it needed to.

Another thing that gets skimmed over are the performances. For every unnecessary line Apocalypse has, the rest of the cast loses an opportunity to give this film a greater class. This is especially true with Jennifer Lawrence, whose performance as Mystique is essentially ungradable. Nicholas Hoult's Beast, Rose Byrne's Moira, Tye Sheridan's Scott Summers, and Sophie Turner's Jean Grey also fall under this category.

This is the black sheep of the series, thus far.

Interestingly, the movie seems to be aware of its own badness. Alexandra Shipp's pre-film "we hope you enjoy the movie" message was hint number one. The next was a snide little meta-moment, where Jean Grey says, "We can all agree that the third movie is the worst." The characters may have been talking about Star Wars, but the filmmakers know the line is about Apocalypse. It is the third in a trilogy that includes First Class and Days of Future Past, and is undoubtedly the worst of the bunch.

Movie Review - The Nice Guys Runs Riot on the 1970s

Detectives and Los Angeles really seem to go together. Raymond Chandler went to this well repeatedly with his Philip Marlowe novels, James Ellroy made a solid mark in the genre, and so did Ross McDonald. Let's not forget the countless film noirs that are set in the land of near-constant sunshine. Shane Black's The Nice Guys is the latest addition to this memorable storytelling line.

Only, it's different.

If these three look nice, don't be fooled.

In short, the film is a riot. Disco-era Los Angeles becomes a playground infested by clueless detectives and an overabundance of illegal activities. The opening tells you all you need to know. A boy fresh off plundering an adult magazine from his parents' room strolls down the hallway to take it in. Then, BAM! a car comes crashing through the house, startling the boy. Who was in the car? None other than the woman (Murielle Telio) featured in the magazine.

Mr. Black gives no one peace. Private eye Holland March (Ryan Gosling) and beatdown-specialist investigator Jackson Healy (Russell Crowe), the titular "nice guys," do more to aid the chaotic scenes than alleviate them. They are helped by the March's determined teenage daughter (Angourie Rice). The resultant trio is offbeat and ridiculous. A perfect breeding ground for the film's numerous gags. It doesn't hurt that all three leads could not have played their parts any better. Gosling deserves special praise for bringing life to the clueless idiot his character happens to be. His chemistry with Crowe is, to some degree, evocative of Bob Hope and Bing Crosby. Rice takes on the Dorothy Lamour position in the sense that she helps bring balance between the two male leads.

These two have the makings of a solid comedy duo.

The writing and the directing are tight and lean. Everything put into the final cut belongs. There are no extraneous elements or self-gratuitous movie lengthening scenes. Stuff that seems meaningless at first sneaks back in later on and provides a solid pay-off. The lines and the gags, as I have already mentioned, are brilliant. Also, Black's directorial style fits perfectly with his stars. The understatement and irony in his shots elicits a comedic tone when you least expect it.

Mixed into the rampant chaos, of course, is a solid story. Holland March's and Jackson Healy's journey is about redemption. They both have experienced loss and both learn to move forward in their lives. For March, part of his growth is bonding with his mischievous daughter, Holly, albeit in an unconventional manner. The strong story is essential, as it provides structure and substance for the gags, which allows them to work at maximum effectiveness.

Los Angeles, the land of sun and neat detective stories.

Last but not least, the film's 1970s nostalgia comes through solidly. The music is well-chosen and the movie references are excellently timed. Also, making an adult film reel into a MacGuffin is an interesting choice.

Yes, the film is vulgar. However, if you're old enough, the humor is nothing short of hilarious. The Nice Guys may very well be the best comedy of the year.

Book Review - "What Makes Sammy Run?"

Over the years, Budd Schulberg's What Makes Sammy Run? has been given a slew of epithets. Most are derisive, such as lewd, trashy, anti-Semitic, and worst of all, anti-Hollywood. Normally, a controversial book (that isn't overly conceptual and unfilmable) makes great material for a movie. Schulberg's tour-de-force about the rise of one Sammy Glick, however, has a reputation no one in the business wants to touch. Steven Spielberg, among others, believes it should never be filmed.

Interesting interpretation with this cover.

The perception around this novel is bound to change. It's not so much anti-Hollywood as it is anti-Studio System.

What Makes Sammy Run? revolves around the rise of Sammy Glick from newspaper copyboy to a movie studio boss in 1930s Tinseltown. The story is told from the perspective of Al Manheim a columnist turned screenwriter and Glick's personal "Boswell" to put it in the novel's lingo (Boswell was Samuel Johnson's biographer). Glick is ruthless in his self-serving aspirations, stepping on anyone and anything to get ahead.

Manheim, Glick's first stepping-stone, chronicles the whole thing and he can't help but be intrigued behind the titular question: What makes Sammy run? Sprinkled throughout the two principle characters' intermingling stories are clues. Eventually, Manheim discovers Sammy's secret and he sees everything clearly.

Along the way, some very unflattering episodes about the so-called "Dream Factories" that turned out movies in an assembly line process are depicted. Glick is a master brown-noser, and he uses the ego of his producers and bosses to move up. Also, there are multiple asides to the casting couch and "unpackaging a new crate of virgins." Again, something Hollywood loves to keep on the down-low. But the biggest accusation comes through Glick's unabashed re-purposing of produced films and old stories, which he brands as "originals." Show business loves to think of itself as being artistic and creative, and this is a slap in the face. One that happens to have some truth behind it.

There are many, many more escapades, and all of them undoubtedly lead to the belief that this novel is "anti-Hollywood." For this to be completely true, however, cynicism has to win out over the optimism and the Hollywood (appropriate) desire for a neatly wrapped-up and mostly positive ending. That is not the case.

Everyone "gets what is coming to them." All of Glick's victims, it seems, end up with some degree of redemption. Manheim has what he wants. Julian Blumberg, a writer Glick uses, has what he wants. Kit Sargent, another writer and Glick's ex-lover, has what she wants. Then there's Glick, who wallows in the shallowness of his success. One gets the sense that Schulberg is being too nice and too 1930s show business with his conclusion.

Sorry Spielberg, it looks like this story has been filmed for TV back in the old days.

This bow-tied ending ultimately weakens his critique of show business and diminishes the strength of his story as a whole.

Regardless, the novel is worth reading for it's historical value alone. There are some very interesting descriptions of 1930s Los Angeles.

Captain America: Civil War Review - More is Just Fine

Less is more - a phrase so often used to address a film's merits that it has become a cliche. In most cases, the designation holds true. Many products from Hollywood's dream factory could do with some trimming, especially ones involving costumed crusaders. Captain America: Civil War, however, breaks this rule in style.

If the future installments of the Marvel Cinematic Universe are as action-packed, entertaining, and well-conceived as this one, then the series' fans are in for a great deal of excitement and there should be no concern about a drop in quality.

Interestingly, the Hero vs. Hero concept is eerily similar to the failure that was Batman vs. Superman, but Marvel succeeds in every way that DC failed.

Civil War is an engrossing and engaging journey into the grandiose struggles faced by superheroes. When they slip-up, the consequences are large. For the Avengers, that means the public calling for oversight and accountability. In other words, turning them into soldiers rather than autonomous do-gooders with the best intentions.

The tension begins to build. As advertised, Captain America (Chris Evans) believes that no government, not even the United Nations, has the right to order the Avengers around. On the other hand, Tony Stark/Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.) is with the public. The ties that held the group together are ripped apart. Heroes align themselves according to their beliefs or even their personal motives at the time.

Spiderman gets into the game.

Now, this may seem like a set-up for an intensely personal drama about the limits of friendship and how far one is willing to go for brotherhood. Joe and Anthony Russo, the film's directors, and Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, the writers, have other ideas. While those aforementioned themes are prevalent, what sets Civil War apart from other superhero flicks is the comic timing. Just when the conflict and suspense-filled action is built-up enough, the gags are thrown in. At this point, Marvel and Disney seem to have mastered the comedy required to create a solid counterbalance to the action and drama in their movies.

Of course, Spider Man's introduction was always going to be a popular move, and Tom Holland does a solid job in this new take on the web-slinging character. The more impressive introduction, however, comes from Black Panther, as Chadwick Boseman gives the vengeful African prince-turned-king the right amount of emotion and energy. The other players, such as Paul Rudd, Anthony Mackie, Scarlett Johannson, and Elizabeth Olsen, also play their parts satisfactorily.

Them cats are quick! Black Panther on the run.

With all of these elements in place, the filmmakers returned to a familiar Marvel premise - one grudge-bearing man (Daniel Bruhl) attempting to get the heroes to start fighting each other. The concept is the launching pad for what could very well be the best movie yet to come out of the Marvel franchise. The story, the conflict, and the execution could not get much better. Perhaps the only hero film to top it, though incomparable in many ways, is Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight.

High praise, but earned. Here's hoping for more top-notch productions down the road.

The only thing to be said against this film is the first part of the title - Captain America. By no means is this a Captain America movie. It is, unquestionably, an Avengers movie.

The Jungle Book Review - Misleading but Good

Sometimes, even Disney can get carried away. They chose to call their newest spin on The Jungle Book a "live action" film. That implies real actors, real settings, and real animals being involved in the production process. Everything listed there, except for the actor (Neel Sethi) playing Mowgli, is far from anything we would see in a natural location. The movie is built around animated figures, who might possess the movement patterns of their actual counterparts, which look like they should be featured in a Disney Animation production.

Now, imagine a scenario where an entertainment kingpin hasn't misled you into believing the movie depicted real-life action. After that, eliminate any notions of the movie seriously addressing the environmental and endangered species issues present in our society. Yes, the setting is supposed to be in nature, but still cut out those political expectations. If you can do this, then you will find The Jungle Book remake to be a competently carried-out and entertaining film.

Sorry folks, this isn't a live action film. But, hey, it's still good!

At the risk of being obvious, perhaps, let us say the creative minds who turned out the picture were successful because they didn't deviate too much from the original animated feature. That starts with the writing. Justin Marks's screenplay is light, tight, and hits all of the right notes. There's essentially no self-gratuitous fat, a trap filmmakers all too often fall into.

Jon Favreau's capable direction was also definitely a positive. He doesn't veer off on tangents and chose to keep just enough of the 1967 version's music, especially the "Bare Necessities," which is one of the main reasons why it remains an endearing and indelible piece of animated cinema. Although Favreau makes it clear throughout that this isn't a musical, the music keeps the film tied to its lighter roots.

Let the cat fight commence!

Where this version sets itself apart is in the tone. While obviously upbeat at various points, the majority of the movie is shrouded in darkness and danger. That seems to fit right in with the story's central point - a hunt. Shere Khan, the ruthless (British) tiger, is hell-bent on killing the "man-cub" Mowgli. That hunt is always in the background. Also, the natural world is not kind to the lone human character. It's always fighting him and making life difficult for him. This lends a cynical edge to the generally heartwarming Disney story.

Another aspect that cannot be overlooked is the voice cast. Almost every actor plays their role to perfection. Idris Elba gives Shere Khan the brutal British bite that George Sanders did before him and Ben Kingsley's Bagheera is the epitome of a sagely panther. Bill Murray is perfect for the "Bare Necessities" spouting Baloo, who happens to be a shade more opportunist in this version than the original. Not to be overlooked are Lupita Nyong'o as Raksha the wolf who raises Mowgli, Christopher Walken as the large monkey King Louie, and Scarlett Johansson, who gives Kaa a seductive element.

Tell me, does that look real?

For those of you who know the story, there's no need for a summary. For those of you who don't, there won't be any spoilers here.

What should be mentioned, however, is that this film seems to be less about humanity's relationship to nature or the environment and more about religion. The metaphors appear to point upward (if you will) rather than around us. Mowgli can be seen as a messianic figure who unites individuals from a multitude of backgrounds. Also, since the elephants seem to be the powerful, omniscient creator figures, Mowgli's ability to gain their trust and get close to them like no one else can would add greater weight to the messiah view.

Anyway, here's the final word. 2016's Jungle Book is definitely worth seeing.

Review: Eye in the Sky - Politics and the Cost of War Collide

In context of the Middle Eastern drone strikes and the ISIS situation, Eye in the Sky is the most timely film released for some time. The One Entertainment and Raindog Films production zeroes in on of the elements that seems to get lost in war (and war films) - the value of a single life - especially where the video game feel of a drone strike is concerned. There are Shabab terrorists preparing for a suicide bombing in a Nairobi, Kenya "safe-house" and something has to be done to stop them, but there's a little girl's life at risk. This initiates the political, ethical, and humanistic debacle that drives the film forward.

A job well done.

There's a line in the historical drama Hotel Rwanda regarding terrorist attacks and distant killings: "If people see this...they'll say, 'Oh my God that's horrible,' and then go on eating their dinners." The cynical statement fits right in with the politicians' sentiments in the Eye in the Sky, albeit with a revised ending clause. They are afraid the people will vote them out, should a single drone strike kill anyone other than the intended targets.

For the military personnel involved, who only want to take action, one gets the sense that some won't be able to eat their dinner. The others capable of doing so are those who have been around and experienced firsthand "the cost of war." That cost - be it humanity, life, or reputation - is undoubtedly a central theme behind the movie.

The titular "eye in the sky" overlooking its target.

Eye in the Sky is both a war film and a political drama, and it is focused entirely on the ordering of one drone strike. The writing, carried out by Guy Hibbert, is tight and suspenseful despite the minimal physical action involved. Hibbert tells a cerebral story about decision-making and political responsibility, or lack thereof.

This film is also buoyed by an excellent directing job by Gavin Hood, whose work on Ender's Game appears to have served him sell. He infuses every situation with conflict. Nothing comes easy for the characters, and nothing should when there is a hard call to make. The consequences are large and as awful as they are noble, an ambivalence that is captured perfectly by Hood's skilled direction.

Additionally, all is well on the acting front, though the film has no real "star." Helen Mirren's performance as Col. Catherine Powell is sharp and she portrays a commander's frustration with her superior's inaction genuinely. Aaron Paul (of Breaking Bad fame) is also excellent in his role as a drone pilot and Pheobe Fox plays his new recruit co-pilot with weepy solidity. The politicians, who repeatedly pass-on responsibility to others, are portrayed in a capable fashion by the ensemble cast. The best performance, however, arguably comes from the recently deceased Alan Rickman, whose Lt. General Frank Benson has to deal directly with the political game of hot potato. It's unfortunate that there will be no further performances from the man.

Alan Rickman turns in a stellar performance.

Another area where Eye in the Sky succeeds is in its tight, cohesion. The stage is immediately set and virtually no time is wasted, unlike other films which choose to focus on the action side. There is one goal, kill the targets via drone strike, and there is one obstacle, a girl. The result is riveting and thought provoking.

Review: Batman v. Superman - Putting the Business in Show Business

Too often, of late, Hollywood has released films that show just how much business is involved in show business. The latest glitzy production off the well-worn comic book superhero movie assembly line – Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice – is another big budget spectacle designed for the express purpose of raking in the big bucks. It is supposed to be the spring season’s event film, or rather “film,” as that moniker only applies in a purely definitional sense. Zack Snyder, the man tasked with directing the DC Cinematic Universe, has accomplished exactly what he did on Man of Steel. That is: take a very promising premise and muddle it beneath a maze of overblown action and an excess of special effects.

A Promotional Poster

Unfortunately for Mr. Snyder, this places him in a class headlined by Michael Bay. The movie, which will certainly find an audience to grant them odd billion dollars they desire, is first and foremost longer than it needs to be. Like most movies with such an elongated running time (approx. 2 hours and 30 minutes), it becomes bogged down and sluggish instead of tight and powerful. The writing, perpetrated by David S. Goyer and the normally excellent Chris Terrio, goes against almost everything Hollywood writers are taught to do with the exception of being “high concept.” It is based on the Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman comic books, which have been widely adapted over the years. Some complain that it diverges from the source material too much, but such a complaint would be irrelevant if the movie was actually something that Warner Bros. could take pride in as a filmmaking achievement.

These are heavy-handed attacks on one of the most highly anticipated motion pictures of the year and such blows should not be thrown about loosely. The film, in spite of itself, has a few saving graces. Bruce Wayne/Batman (Ben Affleck) is the main one, and is undoubtedly the driving force behind any worthwhile drama in “the greatest gladiator match of all-time.” Affleck is well-suited for the role of a caped-crusader who’s grown cynical throughout his long career of fighting criminals. He takes Master Bruce’s ambitions and runs with them as far as the story is willing to let them go.

At least they didn't botch Batman.

Mixed in, of course, is Clark Kent/Superman (Henry Cavill), who faces his own share of struggles. He’s become a divisive figure in society. Some call him a savior, even a god, and the rest are afraid that his seemingly unlimited powers could eventually go awry. This conflict would likely be more compelling if Cavill exercised the full range of his acting chops, but he doesn’t. The man, who physically fits the bill of Krypton’s favorite son, turns in a performance not unlike Jamie Dornan in Fifty Shades of Grey – all looks and no game. To be fair, Cavill has a difficult task in turning perhaps the most un-complex character in storytelling history into one facing a range of complicated concerns that are only set-aside for a messianic figure.

Another flaw in the movie highlights one of its strengths – the involvement of Lex Luthor (Jesse Eisenberg) and Diana Prince/Wonder Woman (Gal Gadot). Not nearly enough time is spent on their character development (I get it, Wonder Woman will have her movie in about a year’s time). Gadot seems to be the perfect fit for the exotic Amazon and warrior who can hold her own with anyone in the Justice League, yet she gets pushed aside in favor of the two titular characters. Then there’s Eisenberg, who presents an interesting take on the notorious super villain Luthor, who oddly enough isn’t bald. Luther creates havoc, and loves doing it. Still, there could be more invested into this conniving and complicated perpetual thorn in Superman’s side.

The next aspect of this money-maker is the big battle scene. Without giving away any of the details, the film essentially joins the Godzilla franchise for a longer amount of time than it needed to. This is not overly surprising since Snyder turned Man of Steel into Dragonball Z for about 40 minutes. Doing so, killed the opportunity to truly flesh out the characters (and probably an inordinate sum of innocent bystanders).

Wait, Godzilla? How do you get into this review?

In conclusion, Batman v. Superman had solid potential – an interesting take on Batman and Lex Luthor – but the execution required to make use of such promise was lacking in many areas. The greatest crime of all is its inability to stand on its own as a movie. For all intents and purposes, it is a transitional piece that will be defined by the movies that follow it in the DC series. That is never a compliment for any cinematic production, regardless of how much it does wonders for Warner Bros.' business end.