Photo courtesy 20th Century Fox

In space, no one can hear you scream. Well, not quite. All you need to do is fix a defunct Mars rover from the ‘90s and make contact with Earth using an ASCII code alphabet system. That’s just one of the many things Mark Watney (Matt Damon) finds himself doing when he’s left by his crew who believe him dead and abandon him on the Red Planet in “The Martian” (released Oct. 2). The result is director Ridley Scott’s bleak take on space and the future with his best sci-fi movie since “Alien.”
Peter Weir’s novel is one of the most grounded and engaging science fiction novels in a long time, up there with the works of the great Michael Crichton. The adaptation is not only faithful to the source material, but its changes actually make the adaptation much better, particularly the ending.
In the future world of “Martian”, NASA has been able to send manned missions to Mars as part of the organization’s Ares program. During the third mission, a powerful storm hits the crew’s habitat and they’re forced to evacuate the planet. Here’s the rub: one member (Watney) is struck by a piece of debris before he can reach the ship and is left for dead. Not that Commander Melissa Lewis (Jessica Chastain) or the rest of her crew wanted to, but they all seriously believe him to be no longer among the living.
Turns out Watney’s alive and must survive until NASA can figure out a way to bring him home. And so begin the “Robinson Crusoe” and “Castaway” comparisons that are bound to be brought up. Luckily, Mark is a botanist so he’s able to grow crops on Mars using vacuum sealed potatoes and the bodily matter (don’t make me spell it out) left by the crew. He records his progress via video logs (that have got nothing on Captain Kirk).
Don’t expect too much weepy drama because Watney—both in the book and movie—is a sophomoric jokester nerd who has vast amounts of knowledge of Aquaman and Iron Man as he does on plants, engineering and rationing food. Although he’s always one step away from dying millions of miles from Earth, a quip is never too far around the corner. In this regard, Damon captures the spirit of his literary counterpart, never taking his imminent doom too seriously.
Unfortunately for him, however, all he has for entertainment are “Happy Days” re-runs and Commander Lewis’s collection of disco music, which perfectly punctuate certain scenes with ironic hilarity. Extremely relevant songs from ABBA, Thelma Houston, David Bowie and The O’Jays all pop up and Harry Gregson-William’s score is full of poignant adventurous cues. Even Gloria Gaynor gets her moment in the sun. Go ahead and guess which one of her iconic songs is featured in the end credits.
While we follow Mark on Mars, the movie tells a parallel story on earth as humanity comes together to figure out of a way to get their man home and the cast is second to none. Some standouts are Jeff Daniels who plays no-nonsense NASA director Teddy Daniels, while Kristen Wiig tones down her Saturday Night Live zaniness to portray the organization’s uptight media relations liaison Annie Montrose, an aspect that reminded me of Barry Levinson’s “Wag The Dog.” Chiwetel Ejiofor, Sean Bean, and Mackenzie Davis also star as NASA employees, but it’s Donald Glover (aka Childish Gambino) as Rich Purnell, an eccentric astrodynamicist who comes up with a crazy, yet genius plan to recuse Mark. It seems Glover took note of his “Community” co-star Danny Pudi’s asocial filmmaker Ramzi Abed.
Kate Mara, Sebastian Stan, Michael Pena and Aksel Hennie are Mark’s crew spending their time in spaceships and planet habitats that make space travel look exciting and hopeful. They’re not the cramped dystopian crannies of the Nostromo. More importantly, no foreign entities are exiting people’s bodies in a spray of blood and guts.
The special effects are impressive: from the desert landscape of Mars to the spinning Ares spaceship called the Hermes, “The Martian” draws inspiration from movies like “2001: A Space Odyssey,” “Interstellar” and “Elysium.” And while Damon and Chastain both starred in “Interstellar,” this is the better of the two movies with heart and eye candy to spare. While Scott’s “Prometheus” may have been lackluster, the “Blade Runner” director shows us he can still take on the daunting sci-fi genre and win big.
All in all, “The Martian” is an achievement on both a technical and a personal level. It’s the kind of movie that restores your faith in humanity and the space program, a kind of high-wire spectacle propaganda that a Cold War-era America could only dream of to inspire the country into beating the Commies to space. Seeing as the plot has us work with China to rescue Mark, I’d say we’ve moved past that particular race to the final frontier.

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Marvel should stick to its lesser-known properties more often. They come with less baggage and expectations than crowd favorites like “The Incredible Hulk,” “Captain America,” or “Thor,” not to mention “The Avengers.” These are household names and if you don’t deliver on these iconic characters, with their rich histories and storylines, you may very well be condemned for heresy and sacrilege. However, every so often a new hero grows out of nowhere and changes the game, making you rethink your notions of the entire comic book genre. “Ant-Man” is that hero and —while I was a big fan of “Age of Ultron” — his standalone movie (released July 17) is the greatest thing to come from Marvel Studios since “Guardians of the Galaxy” last summer.

For such a small guy, Ant-Man makes one giant impact. The whole movie excels on all the elements you wouldn’t expect to work, mostly choice of actors and the use of special effects. Couple that with director Peyton Reed only having just took over the reins when Edgar Wright parted ways with Marvel over creative differences last year. I was a little worried by Reed as his past exploits, including “The Break-Up” and “Yes Man,” weren’t exactly classics. You can leave your fears and apprehension at the concession stand because Reed has finally found his groove in the world of superheroes.

If you’ve seen the “Avengers” sequel, you’ll know that studio has the interconnected comic book world down pat. As they’ve been building this massive cinematic universe since 2008’s “Iron Man,” there comes a higher level of confidence with each film, and references to more and more various characters and happenings within this universe. For lack of a better term, they’re Easter eggs and “Ant-Man” is chock full of cameos, “Hail Hydras,” etc.

The story opens in a flashback to 1989 (only a year after Peter Quill was abducted by the Ravagers), where Dr. Hank Pym — a Michael Douglas who is made younger with the technology I assume made Arnold Schwarzenegger younger in “Terminator Genisys” — resigns from S.H.I.E.L.D. after he discovers they’re trying to replicate his research on “Pym Particles,” which could be dangerous if it ever got into the wrong hands. It’s the stuff that lets the title character shrink and grow at will. Those present are familiar faces: none other than Howard Stark (John Slattery) and Agent Peggy Carter (Hayley Atwell). Why does any of this matter? Because Pym was the original Ant-Man who made his first appearance in “Tales to Astonish 27” and his wife Janet van Dyne was the original Wasp. Fun fact: Ant-Man also founded the Avengers in the comics, but I’m willing to concede credit to Nick Fury in the cinematic universe since Samuel L. Jackson is such a badass.

And yet, as with many Marvel features these days, a superhero back in the day (save for Captain America) is just not relevant anymore. It needs an update, like changing Iron Man’s origins from the Vietnam War to the War in Afghanistan. You need an update of the character to allow audiences to relate so we move to the second and modern day iteration of Ant-Man, Scott Lang. If the movie was made in the late 80s and directed by Joe Johnston, I’d suggest changing the title to “Honey, I Shrunk The Felon” since Lang is an ex-con with a masters in electrical engineering who’s really adept at burgling people (not robbing as that involves physical harm).

Lang is played by the last person you’d expect to play him: funnyman Paul Rudd. You’d think him to be at home in a Judd Apatow comedy, but you know what? He’s frickin’ fantastic in the role and is the best wisecracking hero since Tony Stark. Rudd adds a lightness to the Marvel cinematic universe that I didn’t know was missing until I saw “Ant-Man.” Anyway, Lang’s got a daughter to think about and gets a chance at redemption when he comes under the tutelage of an aged Dr. Pym who bequeaths him the super suit (sorry, Frozone). Michael Douglas has usually been the serious, no nonsense male archetype in his films, but here he’s a kind Mr. Miyagi mentor who can also wisecrack when he wants to.

The two work with Pym’s daughter Hope van Dyne (the beautiful Evangeline Lily with a bob hairdo) to stop the nefarious CEO of Pym’s company Darren Cross (Corey Stoll is scary as hell, he should play villains more often) from cracking the solution to Pym Particles. Cross, in the original comics, is Ant-Man’s arch-nemesis Yellowjacket.

There is a sense of urgency to the plot, but it’s also really fun. It plays to the comedic strengths of Rudd and the dramatic strengths of Douglas. There are also standout supporting characters like Michael Pena, T.I. Harris and David Dastmalchian as Lang’s crew of misfits in crime. Luiz (Pena) is especially funny since he never knows when to shut up.

And don’t even get me started on the special effects, which are used to their fullest potential as we shrink with Lang and explore the world from the perspective of an insect. With this shrinking/growing technology as a plot device, the entire world becomes a playground that can grow and shrink at will; no place or object is too inaccessible from cracks in the floor to model train sets to the barrel of a gun. All of it adds up to some pretty great visual gags that drive the film forward.

And did I mention Lang can talk to and control ants? Yeah, pretty wicked awesome when you ride up to defeat your enemy with thousands of bugs that can lift up to 50 times their own weight, give you a nasty bite or fry electrical equipment. Can’t wait to see what he can do when he joins the Avengers! We’ve seen entire cities dropped out of the sky and the end of S.H.I.E.L.D., but I think that the small scale world of “Ant-Man” is what makes it so unique compared to all the giant spectacles of every other superhero movie out there. And with that, the age old debate is put to rest: bigger is not always better.

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Photo courtesy Disney Pixar

The end credits of Pixar’s “Inside Out” (released June 19) shamelessly dedicate the movie to the animators’ kids. “Please don’t ever grow up,” they implore and it’s not hard to see why after watching. You know that old saying about only truly appreciating things when they’re gone? Boy, was that true when it came to my (and I’m sure your) relationship with Pixar, the studio who raised us ‘90s kids on a diet of talking toys and inventive bugs.

Disney’s subsidiary animation studio hasn’t released a feature since 2013’s “Monster’s University” and its absence for two summers didn’t really register with me until I saw “Inside Out.” The mind is a hard thing to comprehend. It’s full of abstract thoughts and dark subconscious fears (according to Freud, at least). Turning this aspect of the human experience into a children’s movie sounds like it could be near impossible, but believe me when I tell you Pixar gets it right.

They’ve spent years making movies for kids so the only logical step was to go into the mind of one. The story part centers on a Minnesotan girl named Riley Anderson (voiced by Kaitlyn Dias) who loves home and hockey. What could go wrong for an 11-year-old on the brink of adolescence? One word that many kids (including myself) hate: moving to a new place. Her dad gets a job in San Francisco and suddenly things just aren’t the same — her friends and hockey team are gone.

Things inside Anderson’s head aren’t going any better. Not since “Osmosis Jones” has a film done a breathtaking job of imagining the processes going on within our bodies. There are different “islands” of Anderson’s personality that encompass things like family, honesty and goof ball-ish tendencies. Her anthropomorphized emotions are all in a tizzy as they try to comprehend this brand new lifestyle change and each one is perfectly cast and color-coded.

Joy (Amy Poehler) tries to keep this ragtag bunch of feelings in check as a yellow Tinker Bell-esque ball of, well, joy! Sadness (Phyllis Smith) is a blue Debbie Downer who can’t seem to find a silver lining in anything. Fear (Bill Hader) is a purple exposed nervy-looking fella in a sweater vest. Disgust (Mindy Kaling) is the diva of the group, the shade of green of a child’s worst enemy, broccoli! Anger (Lewis Black) is a fiery ball of red-hot fury who so desperately wants to use curse words to express himself.

Things get complicated when Joy, Sadness and Anderson’s core memories (important memories that make you who you are) get lost from headquarters. They must return the memories in order to return Anderson to her normal sense of self and rationality. The animators got to have a ton of fun with the journey through the different parts of the mind like a chamber used to process abstract thought, a Warner Bros.-like studio dedicated to producing dreams and the perpetually locked area of the subconscious that houses Riley’s worst fears.

The two emotions get help from an imaginary friend named Bing Bong who has long been out of a job, represented by his tattered jacket and gloveless hands. But he’s made of cotton candy and cries caramel so it can’t be all bad, right? Voiced by Richard Kind, he is a delightful elephantine guide who will blindside you with his likeability. At the same time, we see the toll that this internal strife is taking on Riley as she makes some rash decisions.

Both the inside and outside of the movie are created with care and are enough to make you bawl your eyes out. It is very much a story about the loss of innocence just as it is a lesson in how much we need all of our emotions to function properly lest we become psychopathic individuals in the vein of “Dexter.” That analogy may be too extreme.

All in all, Pixar aims to please and they seem to be making up for their extended absence with another movie out in November, “The Good Dinosaur.” With full knowledge that I may be attacked by an angry mob, I’d say “Inside Out” is better than “Toy Story” if not on the same level. In any case, it’s the best movie the studio has released since “Toy Story 3” and the most original since “Up.”

Directed by Pete Docter — the man who brought you tearjerkers like “Monsters Inc.” and “Up” — makes sure that the adults have just as much fun as their kids with plenty of profound insights on the human mind and pop culture gags that would put a smile on Jack Nicolson’s face with a reference to “Chinatown.” The movie plays with our emotions both figuratively and literally to create a beautiful piece of animation that touches our hearts and souls. It’s not just for children; it’s a story that can speak to anyone regardless of age. You’ll laugh, cry and everything in between.

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When I was a kid, I wanted to be a paleontologist. Trips to the Academy of Natural Sciences in Philadelphia were the stuff dreams are made of and there was no shortage of plastic T-rexes, velociraptors, and pterosaurs in my toy bin. It was all thanks to Steven Spielberg’s “Jurassic Park,” a movie that instilled a love and appreciation of the giant lizards in ‘90s kids such as me.

While it came out a year before I was born, the “Jurassic Park” franchise was extremely influential in my upbringing with its groundbreaking computer-generated effects and its idea that (in the infamous words of Carl Denham), “there’s still a bit of mystery left in this world and we call all have a piece of it for the price of an admission ticket.”

That being said…Chris Pratt rides on a motorcycle alongside velociraptors! That’s just one of the scenes that will make your inner child squeal with delight after seeing “Jurassic World,” which was released June 12. Being the fourth installment in the franchise, it takes place 20 years after the first movie in the fully functional theme park/zoo originally envisioned by John Hammond and his company InGen. It’s a park for a new age when corporations can sponsor attractions, the operation is now run by something a little more advanced than a Unix system: Jimmy Fallon narrates the tour instead of Richard Kylie and you can just cook up a brand new animal with cuttlefish DNA.

That’s exactly what the park’s scientists do in the form of the Indominus Rex (presented by Verizon Wireless, by the way), a terrifyingly smart new dinosaur meant to drum up more publicity for a place full of extinct creatures! “They’re dinosaurs, wow enough,” Owen Grady, the movie’s hero who couldn’t be portrayed any better by Pratt’s mixture of seriousness and humor, remarked. Seriously, if they cast Star Lord as the new Indiana Jones, you’ll hear no ill will from me.

As with any of the “Jurassic Park” movies, control is the main theme in which ambitious people learn the hard that way that if you mess with forces outside your control, it’ll end up biting you — quite literally — in the end. “The key to a happy life is accepting that you’re never in control,” the wise park’s owner Simon Masrani said. Of course, the dinosaurs escape and, of course, people are eaten and, of course, it’s up to our heroes to stop the reptilian killing machines.

It’s nothing we haven’t seen before, but it’s the references to the 1993 original — little nostalgic whispers from the past — that make the movie so great for fans of the series. One standout gag early on involves control room tech Lowery Cruthers (Jake Johnson from “New Girl” in great comedic form) being scolded for buying a shirt from the original park on eBay. “It was horrible, people died, but that original park was legit,” he exclaimed after being told that wearing the shirt is in poor taste.

The park is something that we could only dream of as kids. Today’s generation can experience what we did 20 years ago, making it great for newcomers to the series. There’s now a petting zoo of baby dinosaurs, a mosasaur (a big prehistoric fish that would make Shamu homeless) and a gyroscopic ride next to herbivores. And hey, why not stop off at Starbucks or Jimmy Buffet’s Margaretville during your breaks from the attractions?

“Jurassic World” was directed by Colin Trevorrow, a neophyte filmmaker with only an indie film under his belt (“Safety Not Guaranteed”). Nevertheless, he has no trouble handling a massive summer blockbuster for one of the most lucrative brands ever, not to mention Spielberg acting as an executive producer.

While not directed by the cinematic maestro himself, it has all the “Spielbergisms” one has come to expect from his work, such as themes of broken families (some emotional moments seem too forced and the human villains seem a little half-assed, but these elements don’t overpower the final product) and a childlike sense of wonder. The children in question are Gray and Zach, two brothers who visit the park where their aunt Clare (Bryce Dallas Howard) oversees operations. The boys serve as the Lex and Tim of the movie because it wouldn’t be “Jurassic Park” without kids in danger, now would it?

Michael Giacchino’s (“Star Trek,” “Super 8,” “Up”) score isn’t on the same level as John Williams’, but it comes damn close with a B-movie combination of ominous horns and strings that mimics the music master. There’s even a lovely piccolo-ish “Peter and the Wolf” moment when flying dinosaurs come into the mix. When Williams’ iconic theme comes on for the first time you’ll have no choice but to tear up. No, I’m not crying, a velociraptor just took a chunk of my leg! Speaking of raptors, Owen’s encounter with them is one of the coolest and most badass parts of the entire series. Did I mention that motorcycle bit already?

More movies have been announced and I must admit that I’m excited, especially because it’s been 14 years since the last movie. Author Michael Crichton only wrote two books (“Jurassic Park” and “The Lost World”), which sparked the phenomenon. After a while, you’d think that it would be like beating a dead horse, or rather, a dead tyrannosaurus.

All in all, “Jurassic World” cannot match the sheer ingenuity and surprise of the first movie. The technology that brought dinosaurs to the screen in the ‘90s has become commonplace in Hollywood. Just like people in the movie are jaded by the actual existence of them, we too have become too used to special effects. For the first time, the dinosaurs are brought to life more through computer-generated imagery than by Stan Winston puppetry (they look more realistic than ever!). With that in mind, the movie is thrilling, touching and just plain entertaining. They hit all the right notes for your brain’s taste buds, and if I had to choose one movie you should see this summer, this would be it. You’ll be on the edge of your seat up until the final moment of the climax, which brings back an old friend. In other words, you’ll have to hold on to your butts.

This newest installment proves you don’t need Jeff Goldblum, Sam Neill or Laura Dern to make a successful dinosaur pic. The movie’s already had the biggest opening of all time (beating “The Avengers”) and made $1 billion in just 13 days. Even when books like “Jurassic Park” or “The Boys from Brazil” warn about the dangers of overstepping boundaries with genetic experiments, these ignorant people in movie land are still doing them with impunity and paying the price. But you can be sure that when they do it, they’ll spare no expense.

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Nevertheless, the exploits of an adorable creature do not make a very exciting plot and so, in due course, all three rules are broken, and Gizmo multiplies into a group of not-so-adorable Mogwai who proceed to eat after midnight, enter into cocoons and emerge as nasty green monsters who enjoy wrecking machines and have a penchant for slapstick humor. For the rest of the movie, it’s up to Billy, Gizmo and his love interest Kate Beringer (Phoebe Cates) to stop the Gremlins from overtaking humanity.

For an ‘80s movie, the special effects are quite good, considering the Gremlins were largely brought to life via puppetry like perverse Muppets. One great scene has them overtaking a local bar, shooting pool (and each other) while getting drunk, scarfing down popcorn and terrorizing Beringer. Jerry Goldsmith — who basically composed the music for every movie in the 20th century — creates an eerie and unmistakably synthesized ‘80s sound with his score. You might also be surprised to know that the Chris Columbus (director of “Home Alone”) wrote the film’s screenplay. Columbus, who is releasing a movie about aliens invading earth in the form of famous video game characters this summer, actually got the idea for “Gremlins” from the sound of mice running around in the darkness of his home.

With more than 30 years between 1984 and now, it’s easy to see a common concept that was used a lot by directors like Joe Dante, Steven Spielberg and Tobe Hooper in the 1980s: incredible things happening in un-incredible places like suburbia or Small Town, U.S.A., having a profound effect on the people who live there. As the trivia on IMDB will tell you, “E.T.” is a tale of suburban dreams while “Poltergeist” (which Spielberg also produced) was about suburban nightmares. I’d say that “Gremlins” falls into the latter category.

If you’re looking for a more modern day example, check out J.J. Abrams’ “Super 8” (2011), which deals with a small Midwestern town being invaded by something not of this world, a tribute to the coming-of-age Spielberg movies the director grew up watching. To underscore that point, Abrams cast Glynn Turman as a middle school teacher embroiled in the weirdness. Much to my surprise, Turman had played the exact same role in “Gremlins” 27 years previously! Funny how things can come full circle and induce so much nostalgia.

“Gremlins” — much like its eponymous creatures — multiplied into a sequel in 1990, also directed by Dante. “Gremlins 2: The New Batch” is sillier and crazier than the first one, but it’s not bad by any means. It actually ups the self-awareness aspect to the extreme for one hell of a second foray into the world of the Mogwai. However, the first movie will always remain a classic, a cinematic gem of the decade that gave us great things like Ronald Reagan and Robin Sparkles. So what three important rules did you learn? First, Christmas time can be a scary time. Second, the 1980s were a great time for films that touched our very hearts and lastly, never trust Darlene Love.

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Finally, a superhero movie that actually feels like a comic book came to life! This is not meant to be an insult to other caped crusaders put to film (I’m looking at you, Christopher Nolan and Zack Snyder), but “Avengers: Age of Ultron” is a clear payoff the cinematic universe Marvel Studios has been building over the past seven years. It is a piece of work that emulates the same universe that was created by Marvel Comics all those years ago. A universe inhabited by a cavalcade of heroes who can be called upon at a moment’s notice. In a word, this Joss Whedon directed sequel is incredible … and I’m not just talking about the Hulk.

It’s taken three years to see a follow-up to 2012’s “The Avengers,” and it was worth the wait. The movie opens on “Earth’s Mightiest Heroes” battling the forces of Hydra agent Baron Von Strucker (Thomas Kretschmann) in the snowy forests of the fictional eastern European country of Sokovia. And the action only builds on its epic opening over the two hour and 20 minute run time.

In a globe-trotting adventure that would spin the fedora on Indiana Jones, The Avengers face their most dastardly villain yet in the form Ultron. Voiced by the wonderfully creepy James Spader (“The Blacklist”), he’s an artificially intelligent robot created by Tony Stark to protect the world. The only catch: Ultron feels the only way to protect the human race is to destroy it. Needless to say, shenanigans ensue. Spader is truly remarkable as he can switch from innocent to menacing before you can say, “Infinity Gauntlet.”

Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.), Captain America (Chris Evans), Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson), The Hulk (Mark Ruffalo), Thor (Chris Hemsworth) and Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) reunite to kick some robot butt. However, you’ll also see a few new faces from the comics like the sibling duo of super fast Quicksilver (I prefer the “X-Men” model from last year, but Aaron Taylor-Johnson does a fine job) and the telekinetic Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen). And some new faces return as well from the ghosts of Marvel movies past. So many stars are featured that you’ll wonder how there was any money left in the budget for special effects after paying all their salaries.

No need to the worry on that front. The action scenes contain enough explosions and PG-13 violence to satisfy the desensitized kid in you. There are numerous sequences that will have you squealing with delight, like an all-out battle between The Hulk and a Hulk-sized Iron Man suit innocently named “Veronica” or a chase through Seoul, South Korea. The final battle is something to behold: chock full of our favorite do-gooders, old and new who just keep popping out of nowhere. It’s awesome!

In true Whedon fashion, the tone shifts seamlessly from serious to light-hearted. His script — with no shortage of one-liners — is often hilarious and can make you laugh even in the tensest of moments. For instance, a party at Avengers HQ in New York City features a great Stan Lee cameo (as usual) and a contest where the gang attempts to pick up Thor’s hammer Mjolnir for much comedic effect.

The movie also does a lot more expanding of the wider Marvel universe, probably more than any film we’ve seen from the studio so far. It sets the stage for upcoming movies with the introduction of new characters, plot devices and blase remarks that hold tons of significance for any comic book nerd in the audience. The 30-second credits sequence alone will get you pumped for a big baddy down the road. Moreover, the movie improves on its predecessor not just in its sheer size but in its deeper exploration of the characters. Through some mind games, we learn a lot about what makes these heroes tick and what frightens them most. I know Hawkeye seems like a boring Robin Hood type, but revelations about the man made him one of my favorites by the end. And the Hulk? Let’s just say there’s a lot more behind the green skin and purple pants.

With Marvel nearing the end of its “Phase Two” films (July’s “Ant-Man” will close it out), DC may be kicking itself for not having the momentum to catch up. While a “Justice League” is in the works, “Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice” seems like a way to speed the process along, introducing a new Bruce Wayne (Ben Affleck or “Batfleck”) without taking the time to mature its cinematic universe.

Since 2008, we’ve come to love the various Marvel franchises because they gave us a reason to care. They didn’t rush it and the influence has spread beyond the silver screen. Television shows like “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.,” “Agent Carter,” and “Daredevil” all take place and have their own impact in the MCU. Even “Spider-Man” will be joining the fray soon! Is it too much to hope for the X-Men as well?

I honestly cannot wait for “Phrase Three” titles like “Captain America: Civil War” and “Avengers: Infinity War” (Parts I & II) because this world of heroes and villains is like the gift that keeps on giving. Some may say that the climax of “Ultron” bares a slight resemblance to the first movie, that it’s just too unrealistic to take seriously or that there is never a real sense of danger. In reality, the film is a spectacular form of early summer escapism and that’s reason enough to assemble in your local theater for a super experience you won’t soon forget.

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Throughout television history, there have been characters so memorable, so lovable and so fascinating that they are given a chance to shine with a show of their very own. Sometimes, a spin-off can become as iconic as the programs that inspired it such as “Cheers” and “Frasier,” “Happy Days” and “Mork & Mindy,” “All in the Family” and “The Jeffersons.” However, spin-offs can prove to be a disastrous experiment and fizzle out in the immense shadow of the original show like “Friends” and “Joey;” “The X-Files” and “The Lone Gunmen;” and “M.A.S.H.” and “AfterMASH.”

The newest product of the spin-off conveyor belt, “Better Call Saul,” was fashioned from “Breaking Bad,” the addictive AMC drama that left a giant void in our hearts when it ended in the fall of 2013. “Bad” fans were both expectant and somewhat hesitant when it was announced that a follow-up show would focus on Walter White’s sleazy ambulance-chasing lawyer Saul Goodman. Portrayed by comedian Bob Odenkirk (“Mr. Show with Bob and David”), Saul could always be counted on for some comedic relief among the darker elements of a show..

As it turns out, there was no need for the worry because “Better Call Saul” (which had its season one finale April 6) is a spin-off that really works, standing apart from its original source and finding its own voice after just 10 episodes. Beautifully shot and cleverly written like its predecessor, “Better Call Saul” can be seen as one big Easter egg hunt for “Breaking Bad” references. Tuco, Belize, Kevin Costner and a Cinnabon in Omaha, Nebraska, are just a few familiar things that’ll tickle your nostalgia bone.

Created by “Bad” auteurs Vince Gilligan and Peter Gould, “Saul” takes place six years before the events of “Breaking Bad” when Saul Goodman goes by his legal name, James “Jimmy” McGill and works as a public defender trying to carve a place for himself in the legal world. Trying to leave the shadow of his more successful lawyer brother, Chuck (Michael McKean), Jimmy yearns to have actual clients and leave his cramped office in the back of an Asian nail salon.

In classic “Breaking Bad” fashion, the show has plenty of flashbacks and montages, giving us a glimpse into the past of James M. McGill. We learn that he had a stint as a former con man known as “Slippin’ Jimmy” and is a graduate from the online University of American Samoa (Go Land Crabs!). Such life achievements make him an interesting attorney to say the least, an adjective that extends to his clients, which include the elderly, a man hoping to secede from the United States and an embezzling county treasurer.

While Odenkirk’s character is known for his wisecracking, he now carries the title of main protagonist and the heavy baggage that comes along with it. The funny man brings a surprising amount of emotional depth to a show that the actor himself has described as “85 percent drama, 15 percent comedy.” It’s absolutely true as our characters may be dealing with a talking toilet one minute and a grave betrayal the next.

Jimmy is a veritable fast-talking goodie bag of pop culture references (from “Network” to “Matlock” and everything in between), a veritable underdog in the dog-eat-dog world of the law. He sometimes finds it easier to navigate this world when he uses his old “Slippin’ Jimmy” ways to make a buck. Sometimes it gets him into trouble and other times it’s pure genius. However, it is in the season finale where we see the early formation of Saul Goodman, when Jimmy realizes the law is what you make of it. Nevertheless, he’s charming in a car salesman-y sort of way, especially when compared to Chuck’s uptight partner Howard Hamlin (Patrick Fabian) whom Jimmy accuses of having a not-so-kosher relationship with swine.

While “Better Call Saul” is an origin story of how James went from Irish swindler to struggling attorney, it’s also about the other people in Jimmy’s life and other stories that run parallel to his. For instance, we meet a diverse cast of lovable characters, old and new. Alongside trying to build his own practice, Jimmy needs to take care of Chuck who suffers from sensitivity to electromagnetic radiation.

He also explores his friendship with Kim Wexler (Rhea Seehorn), which has a “will they, won’t they get together” aspect to it. Who knew that a blood-sucking lawyer actually had a beating heart behind the fancy suits and comb over? Jonathan Banks makes a triumphant return as Mike Ehrmantraut, a parking lot attendant who begins to show the signs of Gus Fring’s fearless “fixer” who also happens to be a senior citizen. The episode dedicated to his past is super intense and arguably the season’s finest hour. Despite the genuine hilarity, it’s the human moments that really make the show.

Gilligan and Gould didn’t just do this show to make more money or stay relevant after the success of “Breaking Bad.” They actually found a story worth telling that carries on the legacy of the previous show without tarnishing its reputation. It’s no wonder a second season was ordered before the first one even began. I’m now itching to see what’s in store for Albuquerque’s future crooked lawyer. Will he continue to specialize in elder law? Will he and Chuck reconcile their differences? Will Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul be making cameos in later seasons? Will I ever get “Smoke on the Water” out of my head? In the words of Jesse Pinkman, “We’ll just have to wait and see…b-tch!”

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As slick as Danny Ocean and as badass as a Rolling Stones song, “Focus” (released Feb. 27) is one of the best movies about con artists in the 21st century since “Matchstick Men;” perhaps the best of its kind since the “The Sting,” which won an Oscar back in 1973. The title is no joke as the details can be fuzzier than pocket lint if you’re not paying attention. That’s not a bad thing for the latest entry in a genre that has been done six ways from Sunday. Any heist or con can be judged based on how well it can trick the audience as well as its characters and “Focus” is full of enough surprising (and creative) twists and double-crosses to fill a season of “House of Cards.” By the end, intriguing and esoteric concepts like “Toledo Panic Button” should become second nature to you if you ever wish to pursue a life of thievery.

The writing and directing team of Glenn Ficarra and John Requa step up to the plate for “Focus.” The old adage about too many cooks doesn’t pose a problem with their fun and stylish approach complete with a story about duplicitous hustlers, swindlers and crooks led by Will Smith’s Nicky Spurgeon, a veteran of the thieving world who can “convince anyone of anything.”

The name of the “Fresh Prince” actor alone once assured box office success, but in recent years he’s starred in very little and even tarnished his golden reputation with the M. Night Shyamalan atrocity “After Earth.” However, “Focus” finds Smith back at his most charming and charismatic, able to woo the viewer into believing whatever trick he’s got hidden up his sleeve. His performance is a mix of memorable roles past, combining the smooth-talking lead from “Hitch” and the wisecracking agent from “Men in Black.”

So who’s being robbed exactly? For all intents and purposes, anyone and everyone is a target as Nicky and his quirky yet effective team go after those who are both unwitting and shortsighted. Everything changes when Jess Barrett, a novice pick-pocket, comes into the picture and under Nicky’s tutelage. She’s played by Margot Robbie (“The Wolf of Wall Street”) who can more than spar with Smith as the plot’s femme fatale, proving that she can provide an impressionable performance without having to take her clothes off. Her peppy, almost childish excitement offers a nice balance to Smith’s level headedness. We’ll see them together again soon in David Ayer’s 2016 “Suicide Squad” as Deadshot and Harley Quinn respectively. Maybe Smith can do a better job in the superhero genre this time around after his tepid showing in “Hancock.”

Jumping from New Orleans to Buenos Aires, the plot can feel like an episodic exercise rather than a cohesive whole, something that the trailer misleadingly implies. This is a critique that could also be made of Ficarra and Requa’s “Crazy, Stupid, Love.” Nevertheless, the ride is so exciting that you’ll hardly notice, keeping rapt your attention. Trust me when I say that this is one movie that will have you digging your fingernails into the arms of the theater seat as you attempt to discern what is a con and what is reality. It will continue to stick in your brain long after you leave as you try to work out all the intricacies of the plan.

Like any con movie you’ve seen in the past decade (e.g. “The Illusionist,” “Now You See Me”), the characters need to explain how they pulled off the impossible with long-winded explanations accompanied by flashbacks that make the answer so face-palmingly obvious. However, these breaks for exposition never feel like a chore. The script actually finds a way to make them as entertaining as the rest of the movie, inserting ingenious insights that one can go to convince a person of anything. For instance, I was literally on the verge of squealing with excitement when one of the most famous rock songs ever (and one of my personal favorites) was brought so cleverly into the mix for a sequence with a Chinese gambler.

While the protagonists get into some hot water, there’s an ironic brand of humor that one might associate with Steven Soderbergh’s “Ocean’s” trilogy. Anyone can say or do something funny without even intending to do so while an unassuming tune plays in the background. There’s a coolness from the way in which the film glorifies criminal lifestyle with its pleasant, warm cinematography, capturing crowded football stadiums and extravagant Argentinian hotels. It’s all a shiny distraction of alcohol, women and money that masks all the bulls–t that drives Nicky’s line of work. It’s also a good old piece of cinematic escapism that anyone can get behind. It helps make a compelling case for Mick Jagger when he sang, “Every cop is a criminal and all the sinners saints.”

At its core, “Focus” attempts to reconcile the axiom that “There is no honor among thieves.” It poses the conundrum of whether Nicky and Jess can find love in the con artist business. To get the answer, you’ll have to embark on a classy journey of Rat Pack-ian proportions. Walking into the theater, I admit I didn’t have high expectations from the mixed reviews I had heard about the movie. Afterwards, I was pleasantly surprised by how much I loved it. Guess the con was on me.

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Photo Courtesy Warner Bros.
Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest film is an adaptation of Thomas Pynchon’s “Inherent Vice” starring Joaquin Phoenix (right). Reese Witherspoon (left), Benicio Del Toro and Maya Rudolph are also featured in the movie.

The films of Paul Thomas Anderson can sometimes feel like incoherent drug trips, so it was only a matter of time until the critically acclaimed writer-director made a movie about joint-smoking, coke-snorting, smack-injecting hippies. The premise of “Inherent Vice” (now in theaters everywhere) may sound a little dark at first glance, but Anderson sees it as a ripe opportunity to make a comedy that could only be hatched by the scattered brain of a stoner. He’s even described it as a “Cheech and Chong” movie. After all, you wouldn’t expect anything less from the guy who delivered a mysterious, biblical storm of raining frogs in “Magnolia.”

For once, however, he can’t be blamed for the movie’s scrambled plot. That particular credit goes to Thomas Pynchon, the famously reclusive 77-year-old author who penned the 2009 book from which Anderson adapted the film. Extremely faithful to its source material, “Inherent Vice” is a fun, hilarious and sometimes frustrating neo-noir. Cut from the same cloth as “The Long Goodbye” and “Chinatown,” the film has one serious difference — it never takes itself seriously.

Getting back in the “Boogie Nights” spirit, Anderson returns to California, circa 1970, where a baked private eye, Larry “Doc” Sportello, investigates the disappearance of his ex-girlfriend Shasta Fay Hepworth or “ex-old lady” as he calls her. He’s a hippie gumshoe (except that he prefers not to wear any shoes) with the mutton chops and sunglasses of John Lennon and the wardrobe of “Serpico,” jaded by a broken heart he didn’t realize he had. Caught in the thick of a neon-lit Chandlerian mystery, Sportello is a Philip Marlowe without the Humphrey Bogart edge, Jake Gittes without the Jack Nicholson smooth-talk, more akin to Elliot Gould’s aloof take on a such a character.

A bumbling pothead, “Doc” dares to question all the craziness going on around him while everyone else keeps a straight face. His unorthodox methods take him all over Los Angeles and the fictional surf town of Gordita Beach, prodded forward by the kraut rock of “Can,” the soft folk rock of “The Association,” and the ethereal narration from his cosmic expert friend, Sortilege (musician Joanna Newsom).

Joaquin Phoenix plays the lovable “Doc” to ditzy perfection with plenty of perplexed faces and comments as he tries to crack the case, an unlikely hero who makes it up as he goes along. Like their previous collaboration in 2012’s “The Master,” Anderson and Phoenix craft an engaging character who keeps the audience guessing the next move.

While the weather may be sunny, a black shroud hangs over the country as paranoia and disillusionment from the Manson murders and Vietnam threaten the carefree, loving lifestyle of the 1960s counterculture. Katherine Waterston is both sexy and enigmatic as Shasta, a femme fatale for the ages with a profound sadness lurking behind her dewy eyes.

Her chemistry with “Doc” is genuine and, in one tender snapshot of their brief time together, they run down an abandoned street in the pouring rain as the sun breaks through the clouds with Neil Young’s “Journey through the Past” as the perfect accompaniment.

She’s the catalyst that sucks her former lover into a world of trouble which contains surf music sax players, lewd silk ties, looney bins, Asian prostitutes, nose-picking FBI agents, the Los Angeles Police Department, pedophilic dentists, a Jewish land developer wanting to be a Nazi and a secret organization called the Golden Fang. Individuals both sinister and benign are constantly arriving with new information out of the fog, or perhaps it’s just a haze from all the marijuana that our main character sets ablaze. Whatever the case, it’s a chance for Anderson to exercise one of his favorite plot devices: a bunch of people with intersecting stories.

The movie is fortunate enough to benefit from an ensemble cast of insanely talented actors like Reese Witherspoon, Benicio del Toro, Maya Rudolph, Martin Short and Owen Wilson. Apart from Phoenix, Josh Brolin stands out as semi-unhinged Christian F. “Bigfoot” Bjornsen, an LAPD detective with a hatred of hippie kind, a love for frozen chocolate-covered bananas, and acting gigs on real estate commercials and “Adam-12.” The cop and his “hippie scum” counterpart have a tenuous working relationship that is held together by similar interests with a funny Abbot and Costello way about their banter. This is evident from verbal and visual gags inspired by “Police Squad!” “Airplane!” and “Top Secret!” used during their encounters.

Shot on 35mm film, “Vice” has a subtle grainy quality that it could very well have been made in the late ‘60s, early ‘70s for all we know. The cinematography is classic Anderson with plenty of tracking shots, especially ones that slowly close in on two people talking.

The movie’s plot can be hard to fully understand, raising more questions than it answers. It definitely helps to read the book — which is just as maddening — to get a somewhat better grasp of the whole picture, since there were parts omitted for the sake of time.

Only seven films into his career and Anderson has proven himself a visionary storyteller. From “Boogie Nights” to “There Will Be Blood,” his knack for thought-provoking period pieces is clear: He takes every chance to tell an entire tale in each shot. I’d easily venture to call “Inherent Vice” Anderson’s best movie yet, which sounds surprising since this is his first time working from a non-original screenplay. It’s also his most light-hearted since “Punk-Drunk Love.” Despite the mystery, he weaves a parallel love story all about second chances. To any flower child, that’s pretty far out.

The post P.T. Anderson’s ‘Inherent Vice’ stars Joaquin Phoenix appeared first on The Triangle.

You can usually judge a director’s filmmaking prowess by their ability to make a war movie. It’s not easy to depict the horrors of battle convincingly. Once in a while, someone captures that electrifying realism, creating a masterpiece that becomes stitched into the very fabric of pop culture. Steven Spielberg had “Saving Private Ryan,” Stanley Kubrick had “Full Metal Jacket,” and now David Ayer has “Fury.”

Photo courtesy: MCT Campus

Released Oct. 17, “Fury” is the newest World War II flick on the block. Luckily, Ayer knows what he’s doing, giving us a gritty film. The writer-director has credits on “Training Day” and “End of Watch,” proving himself capable of well-researched dialogue and engaging characters. His latest effort hits the perfect combination of tried-and-true war genre themes: violence, brotherhood, loss and sacrifice. While working with a model of platitudes, the director gives us a glimpse into something we’ve never seen before: a deeper look into the Second Armored Division.

Brad Pitt is back, but you won’t see him scalping Nazis here. His role of Sgt. Don “Wardaddy” Collier is much more grounded than Lt. Aldo Raine as American forces push further into Germany in April 1945. While Victory in Europe Day is only a month away, they find heavy resistance and superior tank power as Adolf Hitler mobilizes every man, woman and child into a total war.

Collier is the leader of an M4 Sherman tank whose inhabitants fit those personas you’d expect to find in a Hollywoodized WWII squad: the seasoned leader, the religious one who always quotes scripture, the brash one who is hard to control, the ethnic one and the rookie. Pitt, Shia LaBeouf, Jon Bernthal, Michael Pena and Logan Lerman fill these positions. All of them do a terrific job, nailing that sense of sibling-like camaraderie that comes from years of fighting in several different countries. It forces the audience to empathize with a bunch of average Joes who have seen their fair share of suffering. “Wait till you see it … what a man can do to another man,” deadpans LaBeouf’s Boyd “Bible” Swan.

Like Tom Hank’s Cpt. John Miller, Pitt’s scarred “Wardaddy” is a powerful presence, a guy who’s terrified of what he witnesses every day but knows he needs to keep moving forward. In the spirit of Jeremy Davies’ Cpl. Upham in “Saving Private Ryan,” Lerman’s Pvt. Norman Ellison is a simple typist who’s never killed in his life and temporarily questions the ethics of murder.

Unlike most movies in its class, “Fury” is not very morally compromised about the rights and wrongs of the conflict. It’s not in the Nazi-sympathizing business, it’s in the killing-Nazi business, and, cousin, business is booming. The movie lives up to its name, striking down Adolf’s boys with, the “great vengeance and furious anger” of Ezekiel 25:17. In short, you’ll feel more American pride after watching it.

The American tanks rumbling through enemy territory go by the names you’d expect giant robots to have in a “Pacific Rim” movie: Fury, Lucy Sue and Murder Inc. To the men who fight in them, the treaded machines act as home, protection and the occasional brothel that can mow down SS officers faster than you can say “fubar.” A clever shot of memorabilia inside the vehicle shows us they’ve been at it a long time.

Ayer’s greatest strength is his ability to occupy the worlds of levity and action without faltering. The tank battles are exhilarating and the more human moments show you just how all-encompassing war can be. A close-quartered scene in a small German town plays out like a one-act play of humor, tension and emotion. It makes you take a step back from the violence and see its effects on the human psyche and how it can creep into the most peaceful of places.

The movie’s filming location of Oxfordshire, England, serve as perfect double for a rain-soaked, war-torn countryside. Roman Vasyanov’s gritty cinematography is a close second to the desaturated, bleached look that Janusz Kaminski gave “Ryan” to resemble color newsreels of the 1940s. Sadly, Steven Price’s forgettable soundtrack pales in comparison to the patriotic hymns of John Williams, the sitar of the Rolling Stones’ “Paint it Black” or even Richard Wagner’s “Flight of the Valkyries” blaring from the speakers of a Huey helicopter.

”Fury” knows that war is hell while also aware of the human moments that cut through the gore and bloodshed. Movies about WWII and the Holocaust are so important because they’re a reminder that decent things can still be done in indecent times. It may evoke “Private Ryan” a little too eagerly for some, but it is the movie by which I selfishly judge all others. Yet, amidst the bullets and artillery, Ayer finds his own voice, crafts a graphic, mournful piece that joins the exclusive club of war films that try to derive meaning from nonsensical things. The takeaway this time is simple: we may think we love the smell of napalm in the morning, but it’s the bravery to do what’s right that we really crave.