Video review: "The Hunt"

"The Hunt" is a memorable film, and not just because it was the last movie I saw in a theater in "the before time." No, it's a genuinely interesting picture, though not necessarily a very good one. But sometimes it's the flawed but intriguing movies that stay with you.

The premise is a pretty standard movie trope: the "deadliest game" in which humans hunt each other for sport. We've seen it in various forms, from cautionary dramas to horror flicks to futuristic fantasies like "The Hunger Games." "The Hunt" has elements of all of those, mixed with a political edge you don't often see in mainstream film.

You may have heard this movie was supposed to be released in 2019 but was delayed after mass shootings and the controversy over the fact it features righteous liberals hunting MAGA-types. It was attacked from both the right and the left.

Turns out the political stuff isn't really all that interesting -- it's just the launching point for the story. And the movie aims plenty of satirical barbs at both sides of the aisle.

What really makes it stand out is Betty Gilpin as the main character, Crystal. She and a dozen or so other red-staters wake up from a drugged fog to find themselves in a field. A box of weapons sits at the ready, and a few of them seem capable of putting up a fight. But they're soon torn to pieces by a bunker full of leftists who are using the sport to vent their various aggressions.

Crystal is unlike any other horror or action movie heroine we've ever seen. We soon learn that she's more than capable in a fight, and keeps her head on straight while everyone else is freaking out. She spends little time agonizing over why she's been targeted and gets straight to outsmarting her would-be assailants.

She also has a wry, deadpan sort of humor that's both grim and funny. Think of a self-effacing, feminine version of Dirty Harry with a sense of irony.

Hilary Swank is the main antagonist as Athena, a big-time CEO who organized the hunt. You know it's all building to a big girl-on-girl throwdown with Crystal at the end, and it doesn't disappoint with a surprisingly spirited and bloody clash.

A few other familiar names and faces show up -- Emma Roberts, Amy Madigan, Ethan Suplee, Sturgill Simpson, Ike  Barinholtz among them -- but one of the surprising things about "The Hunt" is its willingness to kill off seemingly important characters no matter who's playing them.

Director Craig Zobel and screenwriters Nick Cuse and Damon Lindelöf go for a mix of thrills, gore, satire and humor, and at times its a wobbly balance of tones. Something happens and we're not sure if we should react with delight, laughter or abhorrence.

Still, Gilpin's butt-kicking Crystal is worth the price of admission. I'd love to see this character reappear, maybe in a Sergio Leone-esque Woman with No Name type of series.

Bonus features are a mite lite, consisting of just three documentary shorts:

• "Crafting The Hunt" -- Discussion of how costumes and props were used to highlight political commentary.
• "Death Scene Breakdowns" -- Special effects team discuss the goriest death scenes.
• "Athena vs Crystal: Hunter or Hunted" -- A behind-the-scenes look at the choreography and training by Gilpin and Swank for their fight sequence.

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Review: "Late Night"

"Late Night" operates as a good companion piece to "Bookmart," which came out just a few weeks earlier. Both are about female relationships, how they can be so important and so complicated. The first movie centered on high school kids, while "Late Night" looks at a professional conflict between an older Millennial and a younger Boomer.

It's written, produced and stars Mindy Kaling as a youngish new writer for a legendary late night talk show host played by Emma Thompson. Kaling's script has television rife through its DNA, but I guess that's not too objectionable since it's about a TV show. It begins wickedly sharp and funny, and grows surprisingly sentimental as it goes along.

The movie starts out aiming for laughs, and gets them, and then shoots for the heart, and nails that, too.

I liked Kaling as Molly Patel, who's added to the roster of writers after it's pointed out that "Late Night with Katherine Newbury," on the air for 27 years, doesn't have any female writers. She's wholly unqualified for the job, working in quality control for a chemistry plant in Pennsylvania, but she's got a nose for funny and for what's true.

Thompson is the real revelation as Katherine. It's a fierce and amazing performance. Katherine is domineering and often downright nasty. On Molly's first day, she's astounded to discover that most of the writers have never actually met their boss before. Too harried and contemptuous to learn their names, Katherine assigns each of the writers numbers so she can call on them more easily, and shoot down their ideas.

It's a role that reminds me a lot of Meryl Streep in "The Devil Wears Prada," though Kaling's script and director Nisha Ganatra grant Katherine a lot more interior real estate to explore. In fact, about halfway through it stops being Molly's story and really becomes Katherine's.

I loved how the two women talk to each other. Molly is a bit of a wallflower but not afraid to stand up for herself. When Molly expresses her qualms about being seen as a token diversity hire, Katherine brazenly tells her that's exactly what she is. But then she advises her to go earn her place.

Katherine's show has become tired, out of touch, favoring chats with authors or intellectuals instead of cracking topical jokes. Think David Letterman during the last years of his show: still funny, but you got the sense he was coasting and more than a little annoyed at having to chat up celebrities and entertain audiences.

Early on we learn that the new network president (Amy Ryan) wants to push Katherine out. This propels her to try to reinvent herself, get a little more personal and political. Molly acts as her Svengali, urging her to get out of the studio, connect with people and do fun bits that can go viral.

Reid Scott and Hugh Dancy play Tom and Charlie, lead writers on the show who resent Molly's presence but gradually start to warm up. There's even a budding romance with Charlie, though the movie misplaces his character in the second half.

Denis O'Hare is a solid presence as Brad, Katherine's dependable right-hand man; John Lithgow plays Katherine's eternally supportive husband, Walter, who can see past the casual cruelty to the person underneath; Ike Barinholtz is a hot young insult comic who is held up to Katherine as the wave of the future, much to her revulsion.

One of the most interesting things about "Late Night" is its portrait of showbiz and the types of neurotic personalities that thrive there. Katherine treats her staff like cattle, firing people on a whim, and they in turn crave any scrap of attention from her. "We're not here because you're nice. We're here because you're good," Brad says.

This is a movie that works as both an insider's view of TV comedy and as a character piece about two women clashing and connecting. We instinctively like Molly, and just as instantly loathe Katherine. But by the end we understand what makes these women tick and feel less impulse to judge them, but simply embrace them as they are.

Review: "Central Intelligence"

I like both Kevin Hart and Dwayne Johnson. They have winning personalities, beaming smiles and great screen presence. I’m not sure if either one of them is nearly as funny as he thinks he is, though.

It’s the same way with “Central Intelligence,” their new buddy cop comedy. It’s an agreeable picture with some outrageous jokes, wacky setups and a few harder-edged action scenes to spice things up. A laugh riot it is not.

Most of the attempted humor comes from Hart playing his type and Johnson playing against type. Hart, by virtue of his diminutive height and comedic personality, is always the nervous nelly trying to front that he is cooler/tougher than he really is. Johnson, playing a lot of hyper-masculine action roles lately, is a dweeb who loves unicorns, fanny packs and cinnamon pancakes.

This really is part of his cover as CIA agent Bob Stone. Formerly the fat kid in high school who was the subject of a cruel prank -- Johnson’s body is digitally morphed onto another actor’s body for the flashback -- he’s grown up into a tower of muscles who can take out a handful of bad guys without even blinking.

There’s no cockiness to him, though, and in fact Bob is in awe of Calvin “The Golden Jet” Joyner (Hart), the BMOC in high school who everyone looked up to. Flash forward 20 years and his promising life has turned into disappointment, a nowhere job in forensic accounting, a fantastic wife (Danielle Nicolet) but no kids. He’s just… stuck.

Bob shows up out of the blue and invites Calvin for drinks, which turns into a bar fight, which turns into a sleepover, which turns into CIA agents showing up on his doorstep claiming Bob is a rogue agent trying to sell vital intelligence to the highest bidder. From there the movie is a series of chases as Calvin tries to decide if Bob is on the level or not, in between fistfights and shootouts.

Amy Ryan plays the grim head spook who leads the hunt, and Jason Bateman turns up in an uncredited role as one of Bob’s former teenage tormentors who seems to have experienced a change of heart.

Directed by Rawson Marshall Thurber from a screenplay he co-wrote with Ike Barinholtz and David Stassen, “Central Intelligence” is all broad humor and telegraphed punchlines. For instance, when Bob encourages Calvin to replicate the backward flip he was famous for back in the day, we just know it’s going to come in handy during a pivotal fight scene.

They do manage to sneak in a few clever throwaway jokes, such as Bob calling Calvin a “snack-size Denzel” for his performance in fooling some bad guys. I also liked the quip where Calvin, after first witnessing Bob in action, refers to his non-badass attire, dubbing him “Jason Bourne in jorts.”

I can’t quite recommend this movie, but I didn’t hate it. It just needed to be funnier and not take aim at the most obvious jokes possible. Sass and charisma will only take you so far.

Review: "Sisters"

Amy Poehler and Tiny Fey have been called the best comedy duo since Martin and Lewis. That may hold for fake TV news shows and emceeing awards programs, but their film resumes are rather spotty -- both together and apart.

Each had bit roles in "Mean Girls," written by Fey, and that was the high point. The less said about their first big-screen pairing in lead roles, "Baby Mama," the better. Now comes "Sisters," with their traditional roles swapped -- Fey playing the party-hearty girl and Poehler as the responsible one in dire need of cutting loose.

Written by longtime "Saturday Night Live" scribe Paula Pell and directed by Jason Moore ("Pitch Perfect"), "Sisters" demonstrates two things: women comediennes, despite the naysaying of some uptight fossil comics, can be every bit as raunchy and uproarious as any male. Second, the tendency for recent comedies to be wildly uneven and overlong is a gender-neutral affair.

The setup is simple: the Ellis sisters were famous for throwing legendary parties back in the '80s in their Orlando hometown. (Also my own; O-town is having a renaissance on film this year, with this movie, "99 Homes" and "Paper Towns" all set there.) Not much is going right as they enter middle age, with beautician Kate (Fey) unable to hold down a job or keep the trust of her teen daughter Haley (Madison Davenport). Maura (Poehler) is divorced, downbeat and coasting.

When they find out their parents (Diane Wiest and James Brolin, brazen scene-stealers) are planning to sell their posh childhood home in order to movie into a swingin' seniors village, the Ellis girls resolve to throw one last big bash before reality resumes its rightful place.

The parts of "Sisters" that work are a sort of eulogy for the spent youth of Generation X, those perpetually overshadowed by the Baby Boomers and their children, the Millennials. Almost the entire second hour is the party itself, a blowout of epic proportions that will involve music, drugs, sex (mostly interrupted or implied) and property damage.

It's fun to see these aging adults, whose rebellions were mostly confined to getting drunk and cutting class to go see "Breakfast Club," finally discovering their inner hellions. For one night, all bets are off, along with the shirts, and who cares if the bellies and chins are slacker than they once were.

The Poehler/Fey dynamic pays off, mostly, but then they keep bringing in their SNL buddies like Rachel Dratch and Maya Rudolph for supporting storylines that distract and drain. It reminds me of how Adam Sandler keeps digging up spots for David Spade and Chris Rock in his flicks, all of them clutching each other as they sadly circle the drain.

This is one of those movies that has more attitude than jokes. There are scenarios, not scenes. Some of the best stuff is when the women don't have to drag the plot forward, but can just hang out and goof on each other -- such as when they prepare for the party by trying on entirely age-inappropriate outfits.

"We need a little less Forever 21 and a little more Suddenly 42," Maura quips.

There are love interests, of a sort. Ike Barinholtz plays the guy down the street also preparing to sell his folks' home, who gets sexually harassed by the Ellis sisters, but enjoys it. Wrestler John Cena gets recruited to show off his guns as a scary drug dealer with a soft side. ("My safe word," he instructs, "is 'Keep Going.'")

There are also stereotypical gags about lesbians and Asians that, if they were in a dude comedy, would get diced on Twitter by a legion of P.C. valkyries, and deservedly so.

"Sisters" isn't the lamest comedy of the year, but there is lots of competition for that spot. In an otherwise sterling year in cinema, the animated films and comedies have been decidedly lackluster. Some stars, and strains of humor, are simply a better fit for the small screen.