A good comedy must be funny; this shouldn’t be a debatable statement, and yet it would seem that as of late, too many studio efforts in the genre are making an effortful case for the contrary. Consider the earners of recent vintage: even in determinedly labeled comedies, humor is the pleasant diversion that greases the proceedings while we behold the CGI-laden stunts of Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart, gape at the immaculate visages of Glen Powell and Sydney Sweeney, or ponder the confining roles of womanhood with our pal Barbie. The platonic ideal of a comedy as a machine that extracts laughter — and that the best comedy would necessarily be the one that operates at maximum capacity along these lines on a minute-to-minute basis — is not pursued nearly as doggedly as it should be.
Luckily, for Earth and its people and everyone who will live in the future, Detective Frank Drebin Jr. stops for nothing when he’s in hot pursuit. Not pedestrians. Not unfortunately placed beehives or clutches of helium balloons. Nothing.
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In keeping with the tradition of the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker brain trust’s original cop-on-the-edge spoofs, the rebooted Naked Gun condenses a staggering volume of jokes into a svelte sub-hour-and-a-half length, to the point that the question of whether any one gag works on you becomes immaterial. In about five seconds, there will be more daffy wordplay, more pratfalls, more left-field pop-culture references proudly long past their expiry date. The by-any-means-necessary bit barrage crams sight gags into the corners of frames, the credits, the infinitesimal space within edits. In a film that nobly aspires to everything being funny at all times, anything can be, the chief benefit of director Akiva Schaffer’s attention to and appreciation for the elements of cinematic form. You’ve got to be smart to be this stupid.
The virtuosic schtick construction meets a worthy match in the leads, two exemplary instances of unexpected yet inspired casting that play on the actors’ preexisting screen personae just as the original tapped hard-nosed Leslie Nielsen for deadpan self-parody. As Drebin the Younger, Liam Neeson is god’s perfect boob, fully locked into the sweet spot between unearned confidence and bone-deep idiocy where comedy flourishes. (As is essential for any performer trafficking in levity, he jumps at the chance to make himself look like a fool, not least in the profoundly satisfying line of dialogue that lays out the gerontocratic subtext of the rampaging-oldster pictures on which he built his career’s second act.) And as his femme fatale/right-hand gal Beth – known also by her undercover moniker, Ms. Spaghetti – a resurgent Pamela Anderson reveals unforeseen reserves of brilliant comic acumen, the depth of her commitment undeniable in an exquisitely silly musical interlude or a minute-long tangent involving dark magic, a snowman, and a samurai sword that gives this film its successor to Popstar’s immortal “offscreen bees” flight of absurd fancy.
When the opening minutes introduce a doohickey labeled “P.L.O.T. Device,” it’s an announcement that the actual case at hand is little more than occasion for bountiful setups and punch lines, though the timely edge is hard to miss in a tech-visionary villain (Danny Huston) pushing shoddy electric vehicles. But like many of the Elon Musk stand-ins peopling Hollywood productions in the years since Iron Man, any overtures to satirical critique fall flat due to the difficulty of replicating Musk’s weird combination of awkwardness, spitefulness, and neediness. Ultimately, Huston’s nefarious Richard Cane is just another megalomaniacal billionaire; in spite of this, it’s still pretty refreshing to see him punched in the gut.
Perhaps this one aspect sticks out because the rest of the film is so markedly not yoked to its moment, at once unfashionable and eternal in its evocation of a century of madcap Jewish yuks, from the Borscht Belt to MAD Magazine to Mel Brooks. The imperative is simple, unchanging, and absolute: make ‘em laugh, make ‘em laugh, make ‘em laugh. The Naked Gun is a volume business, and it succeeds by seriously heeding the sentiment presented sarcastically when applied to Drebin and his greying-badass ilk. Sometimes, the old ways really are best; a good pun is forever.
In 1968’s ‘Fantastic Four Annual #6’, Reed Richards and Sue Storm await the birth of their first child, Franklin, but the issue takes Reed away from the hospital on a desperate trip across dimensions to rescue his wife and child from a complicated birth. Stan Lee and Jack Kirby lay out an exciting and visually dazzling adventure outside of space and time with the most human stakes possible: a man moving heaven and earth for the love of his family.
The Fantastic Four: First Steps similarly foregrounds approaching parenthood against a background of cosmic wonder, and runs with it in a loose adaptation of Lee & Kirby’s Galactus Trilogy – first touched on Tim Story’s (awful) 2007 sequel Rise of the Silver Surfer. Shakman’s effort compresses the Four’s origin story into a TV documentary, recapping the story of four brave astronauts who were forever changed by cosmic rays, then became celebrities and ambassadors as well as scientists and superheroes. A quick and snappy montage through battles with classic foes brushes aside the Saturday Morning Cartoon villains for one more insurmountable: Galactus, a gigantic being who has to feed on planets to satisfy his insatiable hunger. To its credit, even amidst this cosmic scale, family is at the forefront of The Fantastic Four: First Steps, from its understated opening to the film’s MacGuffin being the arrival of Reed and Sue’s firstborn.
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Not to mention this it’s the first Marvel film in a while that seems to actually strive for an individual visual identity. Particularly at home in the Baxter Building, the retrofuturistic production design is an easy highlight. It’s perhaps more Jetsons than Jack Kirby, full of beautiful analogue gizmos set amidst bold mid-century décor; the robot housekeeper H.E.R.B.I.E. with his tape deck face is one example of space age imagination.
Even the costume designs feel like a refreshing alternative to what’s become the norm: instead of leathery militaristic getup, the Four dress in what looks like the inner layer of an astronaut suit — a visual reminder that these are explorers and even ambassadors, not super cops. Just as the production design begins to lift First Steps out of Marvel Studios anonymity, Michael Giacchino’s score also feels full of character – appropriately grandiose in its choral refrain, lifting the action up with it.
But as pretty as this design looks and as good as the score sounds, Shakman’s direction at times seems like it’s shying away from the pulpy sci-fi style which it apparently wants to embody. It’s hard not to think about Down With Love director Peyton Reed, who had suggested a retro take in a now decades-old pitch for a Fantastic Four adaptation. (His Ant-Man films felt like a layup for an eventual crack at this, too). Down With Love crackled with life in every aspect, an emulation of Rock Hudson flicks which both fully embraced the tone of its inspirations, leaning into whimsical visual tricks and playful banter characteristic of the time. First Steps by comparison feels like it’s missing that extra step: while the world The Fantastic Four inhabit is bright and tactile, the camerawork which captures it is decidedly less adventurous, the performances within are muted.
Classically weird and colourful characters like Mole Man are rendered with disappointing normalcy (he’s just a guy in a suit and tie!), even if Paul Walter Hauser breathes cartoonish life into the minor role. The big bad Galactus’s design work fits in a little too neatly with the presentation of Marvel’s cosmic side as seen so far, better than the anonymous cloud of other adaptations but still not popping off the screen like he does on the page (that said, Ineson’s growling voice performance does well to carry the apocalyptic dread). Even Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s performance as The Thing feels a bit too reigned in, even if it conceptually makes sense that Shakman wishes to present his characters as a completely regular family.
Even in the best moments of First Steps, it’s hard to feel hopeful or even positive about the Marvel movies when even their creative successes herald the arrival of more creatively bankrupt money-making exercises: we’re duly reminded that “The Fantastic Four will return in Avengers: Doomsday”. You could almost extrapolate Galactus as a stand in for the encroachments of the Marvel Cinematic Universe – aware of what it’s doing and yet constantly caving to its hunger, a force which can only be delayed rather than destroyed. In this case, it’s at least put off until the post credits, the story here standing on its own until it’s time to be called up for Avengers duty.
In isolation, First Steps is a pretty good time, even if it feels as though it could push its aesthetic into more daring territory. This makes that inevitable interference all the more frustrating: when Marvel even shows a glimpse of any kind of visual ambition, we’re told not to expect that from these characters again. Two steps forward, one step back.
It’s Not Me review – an innovative homage to Carax’s main muse
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Here are 12 excellent movies where not much happens. Or does it?
There aren’t a lot of car chases, murders, sex scenes, or explosions, but lives are quietly changed.
Lost in Translation (2003)
Focus Features – Credit: C/O
Newlywed Charlotte (Scarlett Johansson) and burned-out married actor Bob (Bill Murray) meet at a Tokyo hotel, talk, and sing some karaoke. Everything is melancholy and luminously beautiful.
We keep thinking maybe they’ll leave their spouses — and yet we’re somehow grateful when they don’t. Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation is a celebration of small, intense interactions we’ll never recapture, and maybe shouldn’t.
At the end, Bob finds Charlotte in a crowd. They look in each other’s eyes, embrace, and he whispers something we can’t hear. They kiss in a way that feels not at all sexual. They’re friends.
The Power of the Dog (2021)
Netflix
Jane Campion’s drama looked like a likely Best Picture winner in 2022 before CODA scored the honor in an unusual, Covid-tainted year.
It is, on its surface, a slow, ponderous story about a widow (Kirsten Dunst), her kindly suitor and eventual husband (Jesse Plemons), her effeminate, intellectual son, (Kodi Smit-McPhee) and her brutal brother-in-law (Benedict Cumberbatch).
For most of the movie, we think we’re watching a sensitive Western, perhaps with a revisionist take on the very 2020s theme of “toxic masculinity.” But by the end, we realize it’s been a different kind of movie all along — and a more ruthless one than we realized. It makes a hard, shrewd shift in genre, and we respect it.
Dazed and Confused (1993)
Gramercy Pictures – Credit: C/O
The ultimate hangout movie, Dazed and Confused follows a group of high schoolers on graduation night as they cruise around and make plans to go to a party at the Moontower. There’s some fighting and bullying and flirting, and some mailboxes get battered. Football star Randall “Pink” Floyd (Jason London) has to decide whether to sign a pledge. not to do drugs.
And that’s it. No one dies, nothing explodes, no one pulls off the heist of the century. And yet it’s a pure joy, helped launch the careers of Ben Affleck, Parker Posey, and Matthew McConaughey, and is the best hangout movie ever. Quentin Tarantino has called his favorite movie of the 90s.
Dazed and Confused is one of several deceptively simple Richard Linklater movies, where very normal days and nights turn out to be the most memorable of our lives.
And, since we mentioned Tarantino…
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood (2019)
Sony Pictures Releasing
A slice of life story about real-life actress Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie), her burnout actor neighbor Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio), and Dalton’s pal-stuntman-assistant Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt).
The film takes us on a pleasant meander through three days of their lives — at one point we join Sharon on a solo trip to the movies — but writer-director Quentin Tarantino knows he doesn’t need to do much to move the plot along…
… Because we’re on the edge of our seats the entire time, thinking about the hellish thing we know happened to the real Sharon Tate. Waiting for it to happen onscreen. Horrified.
There are little smatterings of violence before the big finale as Cliff fights both Bruce Lee (Mike Moh) and Tex Watson (Austin Butler).
And when the grim ending comes… it turns out to be not what we expected.
Perfect Days (2023)
Koji Yakusho and Arisa Nakano in Perfect Days. DCM
The newest film on our list, Perfect Days follows a Tokyo bathroom custodian named Hirayama (Kōji Yakusho) as he goes about his simple days, fueled by mix tapes, good books, and his love of photography.
It’s a curious, transfixing film about making the most of a seemingly simple existence. People enter his life who seem poised to change it dramatically, but he takes comfort in his routines.
Its excellent movie credentials include premiering at the the 76th Cannes Film Festival, where it competed for the Palme d’Or and won the Prize of the Ecumenical Jury and the Best Actor Award for Yakusho. It was also nominated for the Best International Feature Film at the 96th Academy Awards,.
Before Sunset (2004)
Warner Independent Pictures
Another Linklater movie, and the sequel to his lovely Before Sunrise, which could also be on this list. Jesse and Celine (Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy, who co-write the movie with Linklater and Kim Krizan) reunite in Paris, nearly a decade after the night they spent together in Vienna in Before Sunrise.
Jesse has written a book about that night, and he and Celina reminisce about what could have been and what can never be. Or can it?
The biggest event in Before Sunset comes at the very end, when instead of doing something, Jesse doesn’t do something — and it changes his and Celine’s lives. It also sets up the third film in the series, the beguiling Before Midnight.
Last Days of Disco (1999)
Gramercy Pictures
Writer-director Whit Stillman has said that during the tough days of filming his 1994 Barcelona, a rare moment of joy came while shooting a disco scene. He wondered why he couldn’t just make a whole movie of young women loving the nightlife and dancing. So he made Last Days of Disco.
Chloe Sevigny and Kate Beckinsale star as aspiring book editors who eke out small salaries while looking for love or connection or something on dance floors and the sexy banquettes at their edges. At least one character considers them overprivileged and insipid, and the big climax is a debate about Lady and the Tramp.
But there’s a lot happening in the subtext, including a richly detailed, nearly invisible subplot about tax fraud. And — much more importantly, from the movie’s perspective — people find real meaning in the most seemingly superficial of settings. This might be your humble correspondent’s favorite movie — and it’s one of the most seductive movies we’ve ever seen.
The Brutalist (2024)
A24
The newest film on this list, and a leading Oscar contender, Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist moves as a patient, often hypnotic pace, inviting you to enjoy and appreciate its anthemic score, nuanced performances, and the brutally beautiful architecture of protagonist László Tóth (Adrien Brody).
It unfolds over 3 hours and 35 minutes that do not fly by: One of its leads, Felicity Jones as Erzsébet Tóth — doesn’t really show up until after the midpoint intermission. Strikingly, for a movie with plenty of time, The Brutalist never over-explains, often waiting until years after events in the film to have occurred before the characters discuss them at any length.
Arguably the most devastating moment in the film — it occurs between László and his benefactor/antagonist Harrison Lee Van Buren Sr. (Guy Pearce) — unfolds with such understatement that you may not immediately understand the trauma unfolding unless you catch the sound of an unbuckling belt.
Contempt (1963)
Marceau-Cocinor
French writer Paul (Michel Piccoli) is enlisted to work with Fritz Lang (played by the real Fritz Lang) on an adaptation of The Iliad.
When Paul and his wife Camille (Brigitte Bardot) are invited to the home of cocky American producer Jeremy Proko (Jack Palance), Proko’s car only has room for one passenger. And so begins a period of intense agony for Paul.
It’s all very slow — yet you wish it were even slower. Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt is one of the most gorgeous movies ever made. The visuals are sumptuous, including of Casa Malaparte, the seaside home on Capri, Italy where key scenes occur. And “Camille’s Theme,” by Georges Delerue, is so stirring that Martin Scorsese borrowed it for Casino.
Contempt has two very violent deaths, but they’re almost an afterthought. The emotional carnage comes first.
La Piscine (1969)
Société Nouvelle de Cinématographie
TimeOut perfectly describes this one as “a deliciously languid, slinkily unsettling affair.”
Director Jacques Deray spends lots of time on the uncluttered elegance of la piscine of the title (la piscine is French for “the swimming pool”) and the magnetism of its four central inhabitants, played by Alain Delon, Romy Schneider, Maurice Ronet, and Jane Birkin.
There’s lust and jealousy, sure, though we’re never sure how seriously to take it all until, about midway through the film, someone commits a rompishly casual murder. When it happens, you’re almost sad to see the movie take a break from shots of people just lying around.
The Father (2020)
UCG Distribution
The setup for Florian Zeller’s magnificent debut is so simple it barely seems sufficient for a movie: A daughter (Olivia Colman) is trying to move her dementia-struck father (Anthony Hopkins) from his flat and into a nursing home.
But the scenes that result are both aching and mesmerizing. Zeller designed the film, he told MovieMaker, “to make the audience feel as if they were going through a labyrinth.” He envelops the audience in Anthony’s confusion by moving the proportions of the apartment, changing the locations of items, and even changing the colors of a wall.
We see and feel a man losing his mind, and the film makes us share in his alternating peace and terror. Zeller was so certain that Hopkins was the only actor for the job that he named his main character Anthony and wrote the script for the Silence of the Lambs Oscar winner without ever having met him.
All worked out: Hopkins won his second Best Actor Oscar for The Father, one of the most excellent movies of recent years.
Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles (1975)
Olympic Films
The gold standard of movies where not much happens, Jeanne Dielman follows a widowed housewife (Delphine Seyrig) as she goes about her domestic routines over three days: cooking, cleaning, taking care of her son, and having sex with a different client each afternoon.
Yes, she has sex three times, and there is one pointed act of violence, which may sound like a lot is happening. But consider that the movie is three hours and twenty minutes long. At one point it devotes four minutes to a static shot of Jeanne making veal cutlets.
Released when writer-director Chantal Akerman was just 25, Jeanne Dielman initially drew a mixed response, but steadily gained respect. In 2020, the Sight + Sound poll named it the greatest movie ever made. It replaced Vertigo at the top of the list.
Liked This Gallery of 12 Excellent Movies Where Not Much Happens?
Not a Thing (Veszélyes lehet a fagyi 2022) is the first feature directed by Fanni Szilágyi. The story revolves around two identical twins who lead lives that are far from identical and perceive each other through contrasting perspectives. Éva is a wealthy housewife with a newborn, while Adél is a radiologist with limited income but a burgeoning romantic relationship. She also has an upcoming job in Norway, which could potentially change her life for the better. The film has a diptych structure, where the first part shows events from Adél’s viewpoint, and the second half is dedicated to a narrative through Éva’s eyes.
The man that Adél has feelings for, Ákos (Márton Patkós), works on a building site, and his boss happens to be Éva’s husband, Tamás (Máté Szabó). Will they start a relationship where he will visit her in Norway? Many of the events in the film’s first half, but not all, are repeated in the second half, and the spectator is bound to look for subtle differences in how details are depicted. It is far from a unique way of structuring a film. However, the execution is remarkably assured, not least considering that it is a debut feature. Szilágyi directed an 8-minute short in 2017 called A csatárnö bal lába életveszélyes also starring Stork.
Natasa Stork in Not a Thing.
Redundancy is Not a Thing
The scriptwriter. Zsófia Lany is a feature debutant as well, but she co-wrote the aforementioned short. The script is skillfully nuanced, with gradual surprises that are consistently earned. That everything is not as it initially seems is a given. Still, the way things differ is more interesting and challenging to decipher than what is commonplace in such a structure and demands the spectator’s participation to interpret the action where, occasionally, two different views of events might not be mutually exclusive. Nothing is redundant in the film; it is one of the few films I wish would have been slightly longer.
Fanny Szilágyi has a degree in cinematography, too, but Not a Thing is shot by her brother Gábor. His lensing perfectly captures the difference between the sumptuous villa on the hill where Éva has a wonderful view of the city and Adél’s cramped apartment. More importantly, the colours and framing also manage to mirror the women’s frame of mind, not least in the latter half. Zsófia Tasnádi’s production design deserves praise as well. However, without a compelling leading actress, it would all be for nothing. Natasa Stork (Preparations To Be Together For An Unknown Period Of Time (Felkészülés meghatározatlan ideig tartó együttlétre 2020) is brilliant in both parts and undeniably manages to create two different characters, albeit with some similarities.
Natasa Stork and Natasa Stork in Not a Thing (Veszélyes lehet a fagyi)
The acting is uniformly fine, not least the female parts, including the mother (Magdi Bodí). The love interest, Ákos, is played by Márton Patkós, who voiced the cat in Cat Call (Cicaverzum 2023). He is good here, as is Máté Szabó as Éva’s husband, in what might be the film’s least thankful role. The film still stands and falls with Stork, who shows she is up to the task. Not a Thing was yet another product of the Incubator Programme, which I’ve written about several times in the past. It is a highly impressive debut feature, and one can only hope that Fanni Szilágyi and Zsófia Lany will be able to continue making accomplished work in the future.
The worst thing about the film is the generic English title. The Hungarian title translates as Ice Cream can be Dangerous. Not a Thing is available on YouTube, but only without subtitles. At the moment, I am not aware of any streaming options.
