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A Review Of Gaz Alazraki’s Father Of The Bride

(from left) Andy Garcia as Billy, Adria Arjona as Sofia and Gloria Estefan as Ingrid in Gaz Alazraki’s Father Of The Bride.
Photo: Warner Bros. Pictures

A cheerful, vibrant and culturally precise reimagining of Father Of The Bride—both the elegant 1950 original and 1991’s hilarious remake—Gaz Alazraki’s new version starts with a melancholic undercurrent. As the father of the hour, wealthy and sought-after Florida architect Billy Herrera (Andy Garcia) guides the viewer across a sweet journey of sepia-tinted photographs and grainy home videos, reminiscing in voiceover on his proud past as a hardworking Cuban immigrant who built a prosperous life out of nothing.

Billy’s memories are chiefly about his amorous marriage with his dear wife Ingrid (Gloria Estefan), a loving and equally industrious spouse. And while you are acutely aware of the slight lament in his voice throughout this happily-ever-after sequence, the sudden change to present day—with the prickly and miserable duo now facing a couples therapist—still lands as a shock. It’s an unexpected tonal shift that swiftly asks the viewer to surrender to a fresh remake with novel ideas, one that pledges to forge its own path towards a winsome romantic comedy that celebrates matrimonial bliss and hard-wearing familial bonds despite the odds stacked against them.

Indeed, Alazraki and screenwriter Matt Lopez give us a daring and sophisticated template from the get-go, redefining the tried-and-true notion at the center of Father Of The Bride through a diverse Latinx lens with verve and smarts. Here, the traditional dad figure tormented by his daughter’s fast-approaching (and very expensive) wedding not only has to come to terms with his offspring’s assertive womanhood and autonomy, but also needs to unlearn his old ways as a conventional husband and discover what it takes to be a good life partner in a modern era where patriarchy isn’t a definitive ideal. But can Bill pull all that off against a ticking clock, and meet Ingrid at the mutually receptive and adventurous life she wants to lead going forward?

Insisting on divorce for entirely valid reasons—imagine a well-off retirement-age husband who won’t as much as go to Greece with you—the level-headed Ingrid doesn’t think so. But the duo decide to keep their impending separation a secret anyway, once their dear Sofia (Adria Arjona) returns from NYU Law with a promising Mexico-based offer under her belt and announces her engagement to Adan Castillo (Diego Boneta), an heir to a beer dynasty and a lovably granola city dweller raised by his ultra-rich, larger-than-life Mexican parents Hernan and Marcela (Pedro Damián and Laura Harring, respectively).

Also in the chaotic picture is Sofia’s polar-opposite sister Cora (Isabela Merced), an aspiring designer who, instead of going to college, yearns to launch her own progressive fashion line. And what high-profile wedding would be complete without a hectic wedding planner? Here, the honors belong to Chloe Fineman’s Natalie Vance, a social-media-famous influencer-type pitched somewhere between a well-meaning yet clueless outsider and a cringey white lady who could be a scammer; it’s a tricky tightrope Fineman owns with a healthy dose of laughs.

It’s surely a crowded canvas. But Alazraki and Lopez joyously melt all the ingredients into a hearty hotpot of generational clash, cultural conflict, patriarchal one-upmanship and domestic chaos, allowing the uniqueness of both the Cuban and Mexican cultures to shine through in their Latinx tapestry, rendered through production designer Kim Jennings’ sumptuous sets. Closer in essence to Spencer Tracy’s caustically nonchalant dad than Steve Martin’s frenzied persona, Garcia makes the titular part very much his own through his organic screen charisma, matched by Estefan’s marvelous turn as a headstrong woman unafraid to follow her heart’s desires.

Also enriching the picture is the sisterly bond between Cora and Sofia, two inspiring young women who become a little closer to one another as they grow to appreciate and enable each other’s differences. The end result of all this is a little My Big Fat Greek Wedding and a little Crazy Rich Asians in spirit; an opulent package elevated by costume designer Caroline Eselin Schaefer’s lavish work—Sofia’s midriff-baring suits are especially stunning—composer Terence Blanchard’s rich score of jazzy rhythms and cinematographer Igor Jadue-Lillo’s committed lens that advances the film’s stormy finale through dizzyingly mazy, single-take camerawork.

But the real heart-warmer of the saga is Billy and Adan’s eventual bonding, with the former learning from the latter about the kind of demeanor a contemporary husband should aspire to. It’s a development that flips the script on the previous movies, convincingly asserting that the young can be right about a thing or two as well, as well as the notion that children of sacrificing immigrants are (or should be) allowed to follow their own dreams. This lovely detail makes up for some of the film’s shortcomings elsewhere, such as the script’s frustrating tiptoeing around Cora’s sexual orientation and attraction to a bridesmaid. The suggestion is there, but it almost feels like some forces in studio meeting rooms are secretly hoping that you won’t notice it. Surely, not every gay story has to be a heteronormative coming-out story. But in the traditional world that Cora dwells in, the hush-hush coyness on display feels like a misstep.

Make no mistake however: This Father of the Bride is still a best-case-scenario for a remake, an affectionately specific and glowingly universal take on a classic that walks down a familiar aisle with something new to say.

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A Review of Jared Leto’s Morbius

Jared Leto as Dr. Michael Morbius in Daniel Espinoza’s Morbius
Photo: Sony Pictures

No one wants to watch a lousy movie, but an unmitigated disaster can often be more interesting than something that’s just mediocre. Morbius falls into the latter category, a run-of-the-mill origin story that’s capably acted and professionally mounted, but mostly lifeless up on screen—and feels more disappointing after two years of anticipation for its release. Jared Leto delivers an adequately creepy and conflicted take on the eponymous scientist opposite a scenery-chewing Matt Smith as his surrogate brother and sometime adversary, while director Daniel Espinoza (Life) stages the action like his latest project is cosplaying as a series of classic horror movies. The result is a bland, competent, and safe superhero adventure that seems destined to be forgotten before its end credits finish rolling.

Leto (House of Gucci) plays Dr. Michael Morbius, a scientist who devoted his life and career to curing rare blood diseases after contracting one as a child. Bankrolled by his surrogate brother Lucien (Smith), a rich orphan who was alternately raised and monitored by their shared physician Nicholas (Jared Harris), Morbius takes increasingly risky and ethically questionable chances to alleviate the fatigue and physical disability from which they both suffer. After harvesting the organs of vampire bats in the search for a crucial anti-coagulant, Morbius administers an experimental treatment to himself which restores his health and strength—but not before he succumbs to an inexplicable bloodlust and murders the team of mercenaries shepherding his laboratory through international waters.

When his lab partner Dr. Martine Bancroft (Adria Arjona) is injured during the excursion, Morbius summons the authorities on her behalf and flees the scene before being apprehended. But while he tries to figure out what to do about his newfound condition, Lucien contacts Morbius and demands his own dosage of the treatment. As two detectives close in on Morbius, seeking answers about his role in a gruesome string of deaths, he races to create a cure for this insatiable appetite. Before long, Morbius finds himself at odds not only with the cops, but with Lucien after his former friend embraces becoming a bloodthirsty, superhuman monster. That makes Morbius more determined than ever to find a cure for the violent and all-consuming affliction from which both he and Lucien suffer, while recognizing that doing so may cost both of them their lives.

Working from a script by Matt Sazama and Burk Sharpless, whose first credit was on Luke Evans’ 2014 vampire film Dracula Untold, Espinoza shuffles through a familiar series of bloodsucker cliches that are frequently joked about but are otherwise reduced to the symptoms of a superhero’s curse, a la the Hulk. It’s hard to remember the last film that treated these fictional creatures with any real dignity. This one is all too happy to exploit their violent and dangerous impulses for set pieces, then undercut the more interesting elements of addiction or biological need to let Morbius, Lucien and his costars prattle on in increasingly tedious, expository exchanges. Essentially, when it isn’t standing on the shoulders of genre giants to elicit scary moments, Morbius wants to be the Batman Begins of Sony’s supervillain franchise, and it’s unafraid to borrow liberally from its predecessors to evoke the same atmosphere or tone.

Morbius’ first attack on the mercenaries, for example, unfolds like he’s the xenomorph in a better-lit, earthbound version of the Nostromo and/or LV-426, decimating space truckers and automatic-weapon-wielding Marines with swift brutality. A later fight between Morbius and Lucien, meanwhile, conjures the tube chase from An American Werewolf In London, but with less style and more computer-generated imagery. One supposes there are only so many locations that filmmakers can use for action scenes that haven’t already been shot in some iconic fashion, but it takes little imagination to make those cinematic connections while they’re happening. Moreover, Jon Ekstrand’s score functions in precisely the kind of same-y, nondescript way that so much film and TV music seems to these days. The few moments that stand out do so because they sound so similar to Hans Zimmer’s wall-of-sound work on Christopher Nolan’s Batman trilogy, especially when they’re accompanying a scene where, say, a man is looking skyward as a swarm of bats flutter around him in obedience.

While close-ups of Jared Leto’s vibrating ears feel unnecessary, the effect of Morbius’ “radar” as he scans his environment—from his elegantly appointed laboratory to the entirety of Manhattan—actually offers a neat visual, as the buildings dissolve beneath expanding waves of mist. But endlessly transforming faces and colored trails that trace these monsters’ progression across a cityscape quickly grow repetitive, and by the time Morbius and Lucien are hammering each other from one rubble pile to the next, the action becomes an empty placeholder for the hero’s resolution that Espinoza telegraphs. His instincts to try for something semi-tragic, even operatic are admirable, and occasionally work when he slows things down to create a single, tableau-like moment, but the rest of the time the movie ebbs and flows without excitement between dopey character motivations and reams of technical jargon about blood.

If he’s not quite winging it like Tom Hardy is in the Venom franchise, Leto thankfully doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously to prevent a little bit of fun from creeping into the film. But his character’s journey is too obvious, predictable and oddly impatient to get to its resolution for audiences to care much about whether or not he becomes a superhero or succumbs to his disease. Especially since there’s no particular inclination for Morbius to help ordinary people without the enormous financial resources of Lucien, it’s hard to imagine him doing much of anything for anybody after acquiring his powers and apparently learning how to control them. Smith, on the other hand, seems to relish his chance to turn heel opposite Leto, but he also seems to be well aware that however viewers receive his performance as the film’s bloodsucking super-baddie, his face will be covered more often than not with wildly uneven computer-generated effects.

Without spoiling anything, a couple of post-credits sequences set up a future for Leto’s character in a larger world that you understand why Sony would try and telegraph, but given the failures of past Spider-Man spin-offs (particularly those from the Amazing films) it’s hard to believe they have really thought any of those next steps through. But until then, Morbius feels like exactly the kind of second-tier superhero adventure audiences will accept in between ones that they actively want. Admittedly, it’s odd to want a movie like this to have been worse, but that would mean it failed as bigly as the swings it took; by comparison, Morbius is a walk, or at best a bunt. That may qualify it as a hit for Leto, Espinoza and Sony, but that doesn’t mean it’s much fun to watch from the stands.

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