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Andy Crump

Overrated: “La La Land”

That humming you hear in the distance? It’s the sound of the hornet’s nest, roused and ready to defend Damien Chazelle’s new film, “La La Land,” a prematurely dubbed masterpiece about the magic of the movies that roundly lacks such magic itself. Oh sure, the film has verve and technique to spare; no one will accuse Chazelle, one America’s most utilitarian contemporary filmmakers, of being unskilled. Indeed, his gifts as a director lend themselves to easy, buoyant spectacle, such that “La La Land” gives the appearance of great meaning through the staging of great entertainment. But there’s necessary gear missing beneath the film’s hood, depth and psychology, things that might have given it a sense of pathos, which Chazelle’s work, including his 2014 sophomore effort, “Whiplash,” desperately lack. Such is the danger of feeling nostalgic for times and places you weren’t alive to experience, of using nostalgia as the starting point for making movies and telling stories: Nostalgia for nostalgia’s sake is a stairway to cinema limbo, where there are no insights to parse from the narrative and substance is implied without being established. Is “La La Land” energetic? Sure. Is it fun? Mostly, though it could use a good trim to keep its midsection from sagging. Is it colorful, bright, and full of life? Yes, undoubtedly. But it’s as empty as California’s water reservoirs, a movie about dreams and aspirations whose author’s own dreams and aspirations are fundamentally banal.

Underrated: “Julieta”

It’s always a rapturous pleasure to watch a master filmmaker work their magic and exercise their craft, and “Julieta”, the latest film from the great Pedro Almodóvar, is no exception. But the sheer confidence of Almodóvar’s direction is deceptively effortless: It’s casual, mellow, wholly relaxed, a movie that unfolds its central mystery with what at first blush feels like ambivalence. You can almost picture Almodóvar sitting bored in his chair, waving a hand at every setup and yawning through every take, because he’s done this before: “Be ravishing. Act haunted. Wear more red. Whatever.” But”Julieta” is not an instance of Almodóvar going through the motions. It’s instead an example of effortless filmmaking, because when you’ve been creating movies for three and a half decades, you can make even a yarn about the vagaries of identity and the intricacies of family bonds look effortless.”Julieta” is breezy on the surface, but Almodóvar anchors its plot, derived from a trio of short stories found in Canadian author Alice Munro’s 2004 collection of short stories “Runaway” with overarching sobriety. It’s neither a grim movie nor a lighthearted one; instead it’s somewhere in between, vibrant and held firm by the subtle gravity of Almodóvar’s storytelling.

Allyson Johnson

Underrated: “The Invitation”

It is perhaps is a bit of a stretch to suggest that Karyn Kusama’s taut thriller “The Invitation” is underrated, because among those who saw the film, the reaction has generally been very positive. The problem isn’t so much that people didn’t like it but that people didn’t see it and those in the latter company are missing out on one of the most skin-deep, unsettling, and beautifully shot horror films of the last ten years. Horror is at its best when the premise and the scare tactics are a guise for far greater themes and those are what we get here. Logan Marshall-Green plays grieving father Will, who has been invited to a dinner party hosted by his ex-wife Eden, played by Tammy Blanchard. Soon though, he begins to realize that there’s something much more nefarious going on as the party goes beyond a friendly get-together. Keeping all of the characters in one, increasingly compact setting achieves a heightened sense of dread and Marshall-Green and Blanchard give marvelous, year-best performances as parents who are both dealing in their own, self-harmful way, with the death of a child. With sinister hues, lush cinematography and a lasting emotional punch of a storyline, “The Invitation” is a genre bending film that will stay with you long after the credits have rolled.

Overrated: “Florence Foster Jenkins“

The critical popularity of this film is flummoxing. Pushing aside the notion that taste is subjective, no film in 2016 has been enjoyed a more puzzlingly high level of success than Stephen Frears narratively tone-deaf feature. Meryl Streep forgoes nuance for a shrill, downright obnoxious performance as the titular character while Hugh Grant fares better but is stuck with a character who embodies dubious morals. Hosting an on the nose, flip-flopping script by Nicholas Martin, scenery-devouring performances and a tone that will give the viewer whiplash due to how quickly it jumps from over-the-top, campy comedy to serious, character study drama, the film has been begging for the prestige drama label from day one of its marketing campaign. Unfortunately it somehow succeeded. Films that blend genres work, and often times work well because they appeal to all of our senses playing to that need to laugh and cry — to feel suitably moved. Unfortunately the only tears to be shed regarding this film were due to boredom, and while diehard fans have been saying for years that Streep could read the phone book and still give a riveting performance “Florence Foster Jenkins” proves even she can miss the mark.

Will Ashton

Underrated: “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice”

It probably won’t win the respect of my fellow Playlisters, and it likely won’t help my (limited) credibility, but I’d be lying if I said I hated “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” with the fire of a thousand souls like many did — including most (if not all) of us here. Bold, intense and punchy, both literally and figuratively, in more ways than one, Zack Snyder’s third superhero blockbuster is a striking, fearless accomplishment like few others in cinema this year. Emboldened, vividly realized and never less than beautiful on the eye, there are no shortage of flaws found throughout what’s also a mopey, overlong earthquake of a film. But to ignore its accomplishments would be to overlook Ben Affleck’s contemplative, sorrowful and sometimes quite affecting take on an older, more menacing Batman, Snyder’s accomplished eye for visual allegories, Gal Gadot’s rousing Wonder Woman moment, DP Larry Fong’s spectacularly rich cinematography and, yes, even Jesse Eisenberg’s weirdly enjoyable take on Lex Luthor. That’s right; I said it. There’s no going back now. I don’t come without reservations: It’s far too bleak for its own good; Batman’s merciless killing could rub me the wrong way; Snyder’s lack of subtlety can be annoyingly obvious and aggressively on-the-nose. And oh God, was that Martha moment stupid. But in a time where superhero movies are often commonplace, stakes-less and forgettable, “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” stayed with me, for reasons good and bad. If nothing else, it left an impact. Or maybe it’s a bruise? Or head trauma, perhaps? In any case, Snyder’s latest left enough goodwill for me to sacrifice my credibility here. If you don’t see me again, you will know why.

Overrated: “Sully”

There’s an exciting, compelling, deeply engrossing 30-minute movie within Clint Eastwood’s “Sully.” Unfortunately, the movie happens to be 96-minutes long. Much like how “American Sniper” fizzles whenever Chris Kyle steps away from the heart of battle, “Sully” resoundingly fails to gather traction whenever Captain Chelsey “Sully” Sullenberger steps out of the cockpit. Flat, hokey, contrived and shockingly inept at times, it’s painfully apparent that 86-year-old Eastwood finds little interest in Sully’s life away from the Miracle on the Hudson. If he isn’t dramatically (and effectively) recreating a harrowing, ultimately emotionally uplifting, feel-good moment in recent American history, his biopic quickly turns into a clunky, undercooked and frustratingly unaffecting bore of an awards contender. Adding insult to injury is all the put-upon conflicts added to Sully’s story, from his financial woes, to his flailing home life, to his conflicts with the U.S. National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB), which weren’t merely exaggerated but largely fabricated to create some straight-up emotional manipulation in our post-fact society. That nearly all of these conflicts are either ignored or, in the case of the NTSB subplot, resolved in the most one-sided, over-amplified way possible makes the taste in your mouth all the sourer. It also doesn’t help that it ends with a corny-as-all-hell laugh line, one that flew in straight from 1995 and one that sweeps away everything the film failed to set up in quite possibly the most unintentionally hilarious way possible. And I didn’t even get into how most scenes play as if the actors just read their lines for the first time 30-minutes prior to Eastwood’s one-take shooting schedule, with only Aaron Eckhart and Laura Linney impressing against the odds. Or how “Sully” features not one, but two plane-crashes-into-NYC fake-outs that end up more tasteless than haunting. Nor did I mention the extremely rubbery-looking CG, which makes the otherwise involving plane sequences pretty phony. I better stop myself now, before working myself into a frenzy. “Sully” flies high when inside the plane. I can’t say the same, however, for the rest of the film.

Nikola Grozdanovic

Overrated: Toni Erdmann

I’ve half-debated with myself whether to even write about Maren Ade’s critical darling now, as circumstances haven’t allowed for me to revisit the film after watching it so long ago in Cannes. And clearly a revisit is necessary because holy shit, the No. 1 film of the year according to Sight & Sound? REALLY? (No, it doesn’t surprise me, it just disappoints me). While “Toni Erdmann” ostensibly blew the roof off of the Croisette, and had everyone on their feet, I was left shrugging my shoulders and thinking “where can I buy the coffee these people are drinking?” It’s a mild-mannered film full of the kind of father-daughter conflicts we’ve seen before (i.e. “we can’t be close because we’re so different”), it dips its toes in the sappy pool of melodrama more than once and running at a ridiculously epic 2 hours and 42 minutes, it could easily be tightened by a good half hour (she constantly gets undermined at work, her dad’s jokes annoy her and don’t seem to help, we get it, hurry it along). Of course the film has loads of merits, especially Peter Simonischek’s titular performance and a couple of gut-busting and staggeringly emotional scenes (definitely best nude scene of the year), but my worry is that many critics are a little too drunk on the Kool-Ade; propelling a perfectly fine film into a masterpiece that time will render pretty average when compared to genuine greats.

Underrated: “Knight Of Cups”

With “Knight of Cups,” Terrence Malick has created the most effective cinematic representation of how a man perceives his own life; an external look at the internal process of memory. As a grossly misunderstood, gorgeous piece of minimal art — truly the film equivalent of a Samuel Beckett novel or Philip Glass piece — it just had the shitty luck of being released at a time when movies are examined under an army of socio-political microscopes. Those decrying that the film has no story either refuse to piece together the fragments or are looking for the conventional connective tissues that films-as-we-know-them have — there is enough story there for you to fill in the gaps with your own experiences. Haven’t we all lost sense of ourselves at some point? Wanted to connect and love someone in order to ‘find ourselves’, regardless of our or their gender? So, yes, “Knight of Cups” doesn’t fit the definition of “movie” we’ve all come to take for granted; it has no plot, no character development, no guidelines, and it really doesn’t care about your politics. But for me that’s a sign of strength, not weakness. Here’s hoping Malick continues to make exactly the kind of movies he wants to make, therapeutic creative expressions that are deeply personal and filled with meaning, if you have the patience to let the film take you on its journey.

Chris Evangelista

Overrated: “Deadpool”

Oh wow, have you heard what a game-changer “Deadpool” is? What a crazy, ground-breaking film! And by that I mean it’s a fairly mediocre action-comedy with jokes that probably garner a big LOL on message boards, but are really quite stale and flat. (Example: The bad guy in the film is named Francis. That’s it—that’s the joke. His name is Francis. Characters keep bringing this up because apparently it’s the funniest thing in the history of yuck-yucks). On top of bland attempts at humor, “Deadpool” has boring, uncinematic direction that makes watching the film a chore. The only moment that has any sense of style happens during the opening credits, and this is simply a recreation of the famous “test reel” that was “leaked” online to help get the film off the ground. When “Deadpool” hit theaters it was a box office smash, which wasn’t very surprising. What was surprising: it garnered a genuinely positive critical response, currently sitting at a “Fresh” 84%, with many heralding the film as a bold new entry in the superhero genre. The thing is, every “edgy” element this film throws at its audience was already done, and done better, in James Gunn’s underseen “Super”, a film that at least took the care to play with the psychological aspects of its so-called-hero. Ryan Reynolds is likable, and it’s charming to learn how committed he was to getting this film made — but it would’ve been even better if the film hadn’t been a complete waste of time.

Underrated: “The Neon Demon”

Nicolas Winding Refn’s glitter-and-doom horror film “The Neon Demon” received boos at Cannes, and when it eventually hit theaters in February most critics were unkind, and the box office tally was less-than-desirable. “Style over substance” is a common criticism of the film, but some are apparently missing the fact that style is the substance for “The Neon Demon.” “Beauty isn’t everything. It’s the only thing,” says the fashion designer character clearly modeled on Tom Ford (who directed the similarly “style over substance” derided “Nocturnal Animals” this year), and that credo summarizes Refn’s film itself. “The Neon Demon” is weird, wild, stylized horror with a sick sense of humor. Best of all, it’s in on the joke. At one particular screening I attended, droves of audience members fled for the exit during one pivotal, disturbing scene involving a character played (brilliantly) by Jena Malone. One could argue that no one wants to make a film that inspires walk-outs, but it’s so clear that this is exactly what Refn is doing with this moment: deliberately, and bluntly, pushing the audience’s buttons to get a rise out of them. There’s something admirable about a film so content in both turning you on and then turning you right back off again. It’s the type of brash filmmaking that should be celebrated instead of shunned.