Scream 2022

After five years I have returned, is this the legacyquel we've really all been waiting for? I mean, this doesn't even really fit the umbrella term of what a "legacyquel" might entail, but perhaps that's part of the charm, it's meta... maybe...? I don't know.

Basically I watched Scream 2022 last night, wrote about it on my Letterboxd (of course I've got a Letterboxd), then this morning I had more to say, so updated my Letterboxd review with my ideas for an alternative ending to Scream 2022, because I can.

 So now, in an act of snake-eating-its-own-tail self-indulgence, I'm dusting off Uncredited Rewrites to basically cut-n-paste my Letterboxd review for anyone who might stumble upon this ancient blog, but it also feels apt as my second ever "uncredited rewrite" was for Scream 4 way back in 2011.

As always spoilers ahoy, but here for your reading pleasure is my Letterboxd review followed by my suggested uncredited rewrite for a different spin on the Scream franchise...

 

"For me the biggest disappointment with this new Scream was its lack of interesting or inventive kill scenes, it was just similar set ups and then a stabbing, and whilst the first attack's brutality made you feel like it's all going to be more shockingly violent that previous installments that shock wore off fast.

Likewise, whilst I was very much on board for the film's take on toxic fandom it didn't ramp its satirical aspects up enough for that to pay off, even though we got glimpses of a cartoonishly awful Stab 8 earlier in the film. This should've gone into "We want muscle-bound Luke Skywalker territory."

But the film is also smart enough to kind of address its own criticisms within itself, and whilst there were a number of ways how I wished they were doing something different, that's not the point, and there is plenty to enjoy even if, ultimately, it's just another Scream sequel.

Skeet Ulrich, um, innocent...

 

 UPDATE (24/06/22):

So, a while back I used to write a blog called Uncredited Rewrites, where after watching certain films I'd take a punt at figuring out a "rewrite" that might have addressed some of my issues with it, usually not trying to completely overhaul the film itself, but just to tidy it up in some way shape or form that met my - entirely personal - gripes.

The blog still exists, I haven't touched it in five years, but it's here: uncreditedrewrites.blogspot.com/ (I may upload the below waffle if I can remember the password).

So, SPOILERS! SPOILERS! SPOILERS! You have been warned.

Anyway, when the first trailer for Scream 2022 dropped I mentioned that I hoped Dewey would be the killer - which, unbeknownst to me tied in with a fan theory about the first film where Dewey was one of the killers but he got away with it.

 

Lying in bed last night I mentioned this again, but I briefly expanded upon my thoughts - isn't my partner so lucky to get this kind of pillow talk!

Anyway, I've now kind of fallen into an "I wish they'd done that" hole, so I have to share my thoughts with you lucky few.

Basically, for me, the idea of these Legacyquels is that it's fan service, and really who are the fans that are itching to see the original Spideys back on screen? Who get hyped that Bill Murray might drop into the new Ghostbusters? That Luke Skywalker was going to return to kick ass? And who, really, are the folks who will get vociferously angry if -Heaven forfend - these returns don't deliver on the promise of their childhoods?

Now, I haven't done the research, but I'm guessing, to a larger extent, it's older gentlemen. Chaps who were young when the originals came out and are old now.

For Dewey he'd be a solid audience for a Scream Legacyquel, and thematically for me it's because - now he's only really got death to look forward to (sorry Dewey) - the happiest times in his life were when he was being chased by Ghostface, the best thing that ever happened to him was the Woodsboro murders, and he knows it.

 

Gale is gone, Sydney is gone, and the only way to bring them back...

Ghostface.

 

But Dewey's an old codger with a bad leg, he can't go limping around offing teens?

That's where the internet comes in, and much like the narrative of the current film, Dewey basically stokes the embers of toxic fandom and essentially grooms two new killers - Richie and Amber just like in the current draft.

Except this time - to match up with the online fan theory which could even be referenced in the film - Dewey is the puppet-master behind the Legacyquel, he's the original cast member consulting on the project and trying to work with the new generation to deliver something bigger and better.

 

ALSO...

I really wanted there to be an extra twist, because part of the Scream (or Stab, if we're talking in-universe) rules is there's always two killers, which would've given this film an incredible opportunity to do something a little unexpected.

Half way through the film - probably during the second hospital sequence - somebody should've grabbed Dewey's gun when he "accidentally" dropped in or suchlike and shot Ghostface and immediately gone up and BLAM one in the head. Dead.

They remove the mask and reveal who it is. (I personally would've made it Richie, but he's got too strong a connection to our lead, so it probably would've had to have been Amber, and that does further cast suspicion on the friendship circle).

Anyway, from that point on obviously the idea of the second killer causes further suspicion, hopefully focusing it on Tara's friendship group, and the twist that Dewey is - kind of begrudgingly - the killer (or, at least, the mastermind now reluctantly thrust into a more hands on role due to being short one tribute act) disappears from people' minds as the film toys with them by playfully hinting that Dewey and Gale are going to get back together...

 

And yes, I think this would've pissed some people off, and maybe that kind of thing isn't allowed because of The Last Jedi, but then that might've tied further into the satirical conversation the film wanted to have about toxic fandom?

But, for me, what Scream 2022 really needed - beyond some more inventive kills - was a bit more of its own distinctive anarchic spirit, some kind of middle-finger to the audience in a way that says, very proudly, the old Scream is dead, this is the new Scream, and turning one of the series heroes into a villain - albeit a complicated one - is an opportunity that (as far as I'm aware) hasn't been utilised by many other horror franchises, especially not ones graced with original cast members returning decades later?"

 

Thanks for reading!

Blade Runner 2049

SPOILERS AHOY!

Firstly, no uncredited rewrite here, this is going to be a musing on what I felt was lacking in the new Blade Runner movie.

The following has been written with the assumption that you've seen Blade Runner 2049 (and, presumably, the original), so I'm not going to do a great deal of articulation where the plot is concerned.

So, with critics falling over themselves in praise of Blade Runner 2049, and with many regular cinemagoers who have seen it doing likewise, I have found myself feeling like an utter grump because I did not enjoy it at all and am sort of rolling around the "Why?" in my head.

I was very excited - though cautious - to watch this 35 years later sequel to Ridley Scott's 1982 original / 25 years later sequel to Ridley Scott's 1992 director's cut / 10 years later sequel to Ridley Scott's 2007 final cut.

I had largely avoided trailers, and stayed away from my twitter once I knew critics I follow had seen it and could start voicing their opinions. I wanted to go in fresh.

I'm a huge fan of Denis Villeneuve's, his 2013 film Enemy is one of my favourite films, and I've enoyed every single film of his that I've seen since then. I felt like this film was in the best possible hands directorially speaking.

So, there I was, Friday night, opening weekend...

I'll start with what I liked; I felt like it was a really nice pace, it wasn't slow, it was just considered, it ramped up when it needed to, but it knew to pause, to take its time when necessary. I enjoyed its tempo and was happy to see a film confident in its own sense of time-keeping that it told its story at the speed it wanted, with little to no regard of making sure they could cram enough screenings into a day in order to boost box office returns.

And that's probably about it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying the rest was terrible, but it just didn't really do anything for me from - for example - an acting point of view, or with its design, or cinematography (which all felt a tad too clean for my tastes), or aurally (the music was serviceable, but nothing truly special), and then there's the story and what - supposedly - lies beneath that.

I found myself sat there, watching the film, feeling a little unmoved by absolutely everything that was going on, it all just seemed like a big shrug of the shoulders to me. Things were happening, people made grand statements about the importance of the things happening, but I didn't feel any of that, I was being told how important everything was.

I remember thinking to myself' "I'm sure, come the end, this will all have some value either plot-wise or thematically", and yet, when the film finished it just felt like it had run out of tape, like, oops, that's all the time we've got for today, sorry about that I was just about to get to my point.

Now, I can imagine that some of you are nodding sagely; "Ah, the point of the film was that K felt he was special only to discover that he wasn't, ah!" However the story K was still embroiled in was, y'know, important, revolutionary, it would blow the world apart, and other characters in the film were - as K hoped he was - special. Yet nothing, to me, felt important or special, everything - I was told - was big, earth-shattering, life or death, and yet... Meh.

What worked so well about the original Blade Runner for me was that the film's greater mysteries were almost like an after-thought on top of a really bog-standard cop thriller.

Here are these replicants that have escaped, find them.

Everything else, the magic, the wonder, the existensialism, all sort of feels like happy accidents born of great casting and conflicting ideas (see the ongoing debate about whether Deckard is a replicant even amongst the directors of the original and its sequel).

Part of the problem with this sequel is that it feels like it has to make the story BIG, that is has to be about something earth-shattering, that it repurposes characters from the original to now be important and special (I know the "twist" with K is that he thinks he's special but then he isn't, however people still are special within the narrative, and I'll get to that later).

Suddenly we're dealing with a plot that is IMPORTANT, but not really in a neat plot-propelling way, as everyone's reasoning for why the replicant baby must be found / erased is a little vague at best.
What really seemed to emphasise the crucial difference between the two films, for me, was the cast and - more explicity - how in the original each scene, each new encounter, is enthralling because of the range of performances, the wonderful, strange, unique touch each actor brings to their part and then - from there - the joy of combining these characters in different ways, playing them off each other.

Yet in Blade Runner 2049 everyone seems to be cut from the same cloth, speaking in similar cadences, making similar pronouncements, giving us elliptical little "quotes". They're all at service of the thematic conceits, rather than their characters and actions drawing these ideas out of the text.
It only served to stress the lack of "character" in this film, and though that complaint might tie in to your particular thematic analysis or not it doesn't really make for a good film.

So, speaking of analysis...

I've been intrigued to start hearing people's interpretations of the film, as I'm wondering if any of them will, for me, make the film start to feel like it had something to say, some purpose beyond themes already articulated far better - and far more casually  - by the original film and other sci-fi films in the intervening years.

I read this (https://www.newstatesman.com/culture/film/2017/10/blade-runner-2049-uneasy-feminist-parable-about-controlling-means-reproduction) article debating the feminist merits - or failings - of the film, that was an interesting take, however one that seemed to overlook a key piece of the script for me in its discussion of the character of Joi...

The marketing for Joi within the film is that she will tell you "Everything you want to hear" and, as far as I can recall, she says to Ryan Gosling's K at one point in the film "I'm just telling you what you want to hear" - or words to that effect.

My understanding of how this artificial, holographic character works for its owners is that she is both a representation of how K imagines his ideal woman would behave, but also, more than that, a reflection of himself, the little voice inside of him that wants to make him feel better, that wants him to be more than he is. She is, for lack of a better way of explaining it, him. This is made even more explicit by the fact that she "names" him Joe, a vowel's difference from her name.

Joi becomes a handy way for the film-makers to have K/Joe explain what he's doing or articulate his thought process, and once he - internally - starts believing that he may be the "special replicant", that's exactly when Joi starts telling him, reinforcing his belief, that he *is* special.

When Mariette tells Joi, after she and Joi have sex with K, that she's "been inside" her and "there's not as much there as you think" she's actually talking to K / Joe, telling him through her that he isn't special.

I've also read some of the rather redundant and tedious fan theories that everyone in the film is in fact a replicant, or, at least, Jared Leto's Niander Wallace is.

More mystery replicants just seems boring to me, and once we start making this a bigger fertility issue picture due to Wallace's need to control birth for his own ends then this film has to be held alongside the likes of Alfonso Cuaron's Children Of Men (there are many similarities) and, in that comparison, Blader Runner 2049 is going to crash and burn by the wayside, because Cuaron's film is an absolute masterpiece.

I even got into a slight Twitter thing with Phyllis Nagy, the screenwriter of Todd Hayne's Carol, regarding her interpretation of why the film hadn't done as well as expected at the box office...

"No surprise BLADERUNNER 2049 isn't a BO hit," she tweeted. "A culture of narcissists does not take kindly to a You-Are-Not-Special subtext. Terrific film." (https://twitter.com/PhyllisNagy/status/917162453288468480)

A lot to unpack in this tweet, but what I first argued was that a subtext one could only interpret (whether accurate or not) from having seen the film does not explain why people didn't go to see the film.

Eventually Phyllis replied and said: "Huge effect on word of mouth- and thus on bodies in seats. Multiply the numbers of first-day movie-goers passing on the "downer" hero."

Which, whilst not engaging with the point I made, raised more questions for me.

Firstly, a "downer hero" and a "culture of narcissists" are two very different things. Most reviews had been careful to leave out details of the plot and especially any interpretations - I hadn't heard this kind of analysis until this tweet for example - and most reviews focused on the broad strokes, the positives they saw such as the visuals. Finally, the word of mouth on the film was actually very, very good (an A- Cinemascore), so, this left only half of Phyllis's tweet worthy of attention, the half where she refers to a "a culture of narcissits" feeling slighted by a film's anti "Chosen One" narrative.

Just as you could read it as a "downer hero" discovering they are ultimately not a beautiful and unique snowflake and therefore a "culture of narcissists" might allegedly decide to reject the film, you could also interpret it thus:

A film so in awe of 1982's Blade Runner (albeit funnelled through the latter Director and Final cuts) that it decides to ret-con that film's plot to suggest that its - very questionable - romance was in fact the machinations of a genius mastermind and ultimately the MOST IMPORTANT RELATIONSHIP EVER because it would herald the emanciaption of all replicant-kind.

You could go further and suggest that the film was about a character - K - who apathetically trudges through a largely meaningless existence, their only joy comes from a mobile app called Joi who validates them by telling them only what they want to hear, who starts to harbour delusions of grandeur, that maybe they - this new generation of Blade Runner - are very important and worthwhile, only to find out that - no - the original Blade Runner was the most important one.

However, to attempt to try and actually engage with part of the original tweet (regardless of the fact that it seems to say more about how sometimes film interpretations often say more about the person doing the interpreting than the film itself) there are reasons why Blade Runner 2049 didn't do "as well" at the box office as estimates predicted, and it's probably more to do with over-stating the importance of a 35 years later sequel to a well respected film that, if we're honest, has its merits but isn't as great as a lot of people are trying to tell us it is.

For one thing, as Max Landis pointed out in a series of tweets (https://twitter.com/Uptomyknees/status/917446483040804869), the concept of the film was not well articulated by the marketing.
And you can slap positive quotes all over your trailers and posters, most films do, but it doesn't mean people are going to see it.

Secondly, there could be a case of burn-out and fatigue on these "Years later..." sequels / prequels / reboots, etc. This year Alien: Covenant has already fared poorly at the box office, and the third Planet Of The Apes prequel didn't do too great either.

However people using Blade Runner 2049's supposed lack of financial success as a stick to beat modern audiences are kind of looking at the box office of days gone by through rose-tinted spectacles where - in 1982 - the likes of Porky's, The Toy, and Firefox bested Blade Runner at the box office, not to mention that less films were being released on a weekly basis and the lure of other ways to watch stuff wasn't as prevalent, and also ignoring the fact that films like Get Out, Baby Driver, The Big Sick have done incredibly well at the box office this year. So it's not all doom and gloom.

Is Blade Runner 2049's opening weekend returns a sign of audience's not wanting smart, cerebral cinema?

Well, to me, no, because I don't think the film is that smart or thoughtful.

But, it hasn't actually done terribly at the box office, I just think the expectations were over-optimistic and based on a certain type of nostalgia that, is quite clearly, not there where massively wide audiences are concerned, and that makes sense to me, the first Blade Runner is not the Holy Grail of cinema, it's just an impeccably designed movie that benefited from charistmatic supporting performances, an iconic score and a few little wisps of thought-provoking ideas that have been stretched and magnified over the intervening years.

In short, maybe Blade Runner wasn't as special as you thought it was.

Stranger Things

*SPOILERS APLENTY*

This may well be the only time I write about a serial on this website, and I feel inclined to do so because Stranger Things is something that people have assumed I would enjoy, and that's ordinarily a bad omen, it probably says more about other people's perception of me than of the series itself.

Sure, on paper, it's going to tick a lot of my boxes; it's a homage to the 80s, more specifically things like The Goonies, Explorers, Stephen King, etc. It has a John Carpenter-esque soundtrack and Winona Ryder is in it.

My broad complaints with the show have been pretty well articulated elsewhere on the interwebs here, here and here (for starters), though I feel it's worth emphasizing my main points of contetion before getting into what I felt would have made for a compelling change to show's story.

After watching the first two episodes my initial response to the show was "I can see why people like this", it's very easy to watch, and all the information is spoonfed to the audience, so nothing - bar the show's general "mystery" - is unclear. It's clearly a page-turner kind of show, but in a very casual sense, it's simple entertainment.

Although, at the same time, I found this baffling... One of our main characters is a mother who has lost her child and there's some sort of evil monster on the loose, yet the series is always easy-going, it never fills you with a sense of urgency or dread.

Additionally, the story is so spoonfed to the audience that there's no sense of surprise, and we often know what's going on long before the characters do, which makes a lot of the series a wait for them to catch up to us.

As the show wore on I became frustrated by its eighties references, they seemed too nostalgic, specifically in how each kid's bedroom seemed to have a big neat poster of a different 80s touchstone, whereas if you were to think of your own childhood bedroom - or kid's bedrooms from similar films - they were a lot more scrappy in their decor. It felt too artificial, and took me out of the show.

Worse I found the main trio of kids to be very badly directed, their notes always seemed to have been "Louder and angrier", and their anger felt very adult. As much as some people find The Goonies to be annoying at least the kids bicker and fight like kids do, their dialogue overlapping and - even at the most petulant - still feeling like the words and choices a kid might make in arguing with friends.

Similar problems with the actor's direction fell upon Winona Ryder who - thanks to the script as well (as far as I can tell as a viewer of course) - she was always operating at the same level of frazzled.

It was around episode five when we first entered Eleven's mental space though that the series took a harsh nosedive into really bad for me, primarily because its homaging turned into plagiarism by stealing visuals from Jonathan Glazer's 2013 film Under The Skin.

 
Now, whilst I do believe in the adage "steal from the best" I always felt that that phrase implied that the point of stealing ideas was to add a new twist to them or to improve upon them, to use them as a shorthand springboard into something creative. Here, as with the rest of the show, the "homage" was nothing more than a direct lift.

When ripping other people off like this, and adding nothing new, your choices become hollow, it's like trying to cook like a famous chef by stealing from their recycling bins - all you've got as ingredients is the packaging, so flavour, no body, nothing.

Finally, as we reached the conclusion of the show characters began making stupid choices, for example, Sheriff Hopper breaks into the evil science lab and discovers the portal to the alternate dimension he is caught by security who promptly take him home, allowing him to carry on with his investigation and break back into the secret lab again later this time with a better plan...

Why? Why didn't they keep him locked up? Sure, kidnapping the Sheriff might look bad, so why didn't they frame him in some way - as they planned to do the second time they caught him - what was the point of letting him go? Was it to try and find Eleven? Because if so they managed to do that entirely without the Sheriff's help anyway.

In the final episode Dr. Brenner finally catches up to Eleven, and even has her in his arms, when suddenly the evil monster emerges and - despite their being plenty of armed agents around - Brenner inexplicably chooses to put Eleven down so she can escape with the kids and walk towards the killer monster. It felt entirely out of character and just put in their so Brenner could be killed and Eleven could escape.

Also, Eleven's ability to use her telekinetic powers - and by extension how conscious she is at key moments - fluctuates wildly, with her dipping in and out of wakefulness at the whim of the writers, and too often situations are solved by Eleven using her abilities because the script has reached a slight dead end.

However, what bugged me most about the series was the roles adults played in the show overall.
A notable feature of a lot of its influences is the division between the worlds of children and adults, and the presence (or lack thereof) of adults is a key feature in creating these magical - and frightening - fantasies in which so many of our childhood nostaglias are rooted.

Look at the role of adults in Nightmare On Elm Street, The Goonies, The Gate, Explorers, E.T., etc., or even more contemporary fare like Hocus Pocus, The Hole (Joe Dante) and It Follows.
Stranger Things needed to focus more on a child's view of the world, and keep the adults out of the programme except as antagonists - or reluctant allies as we moved towards the finale.

So, how about if we made one change to the cast, and sadly - for me - that means less Winona Ryder in the show.

What if Joyce Byers (the mother of missing kid Will) was much more of a peripheral role, and rather than being active and engaged with trying to find her son she was a bit out of it, and she's been that way since Lonnie - her husband - left.

Instead, Joyce has three children...

Jonathan who is Will's older brother as he is in the show, and he's the loner character exactly as written, though maybe he felt more antagonistic towards Will in a way - rather than making him mixtapes he would always get frustrated that Will stole his records, and so the mixtape gesture at the show's finale has more weight.

Will, as written again, the kid that goes missing, and who is friends with our main trio of kids.
And finally a daughter, let's call her Gertie, who is the middle child and ever since her father left and her mother "zoned out", she's had to grow up fast, sacrificing her childhood to keep the house together as best she can.

So, when Will goes missing there could be a threat of their family dynamic being called into question (maybe a social services character who might be a covert science lab agent?), and as Gertie begins communicating with Will through the lights she's dismissed more readily as a traumatised child.

Eventually Gertie's story and the three boys (along with Eleven) cross paths and they form a group who has to unravel this mystery.

I feel like this change would have grounded the show in a child's eye view and made the dangers more terrifying.

That alteration wouldn't - in my opinion - have solved all the problems with the show (see posts linked to at the top of this article), far from it, but it would've made for a more interesting foundation on which to tell this story.

Tomorrowland: A World Beyond

*HERE BE SPOILERS*

I feel pretty sorry for Tomorrowland, its heart is in the right place, it's got a good message at its core and isn't afraid to really state that message in plain, confrontational terms. It's also got moments of dizzying invention that should have slapped a big ol' smile on my face, but, alas, I found myself constantly at a distance from the film and I think that's down to some fundamental choices in how the film was put together.

Sure sure, there are other issues I would happily get my claws into if given the chance, but I really wanted to focus on one thing that bugged me about Tomorrowland...

Whose Story Is It?

The film begins with Frank Walker (George Clooney) talking to camera, occasionally we get glimpses of a countdown clock, some images of civil unrest, but he's making a poor show of getting whatever point he's trying to make across. A voice off-screen both berates and encourages him, it's Casey Newton (Britt Robertson), and she prompts Frank to tell us about when it all began for him.

We then have a flashback to the New York World's Fair in 1964, a young Frank (Thomas Robinson) presents an invention to Nix (Hugh Laurie). Nix isn't impressed, but Athene (Raffey Cassidy) is enchanted by Frank's optimism, so she helps him get access to the titular Tomorrowland. A haven for imaginations and inventors, a promise of a better future today, etc.

Then, once it's fore-shadowed (again with Clooney addressing the camera) that things didn't pan out with Tomorrowland the story-telling gauntlet is passed to Casey, who tells her story, beginning with a rather awkward flashback to her as a small child, then on to her sabotaging attempts to demolish a NASA launch platform.

Cold Opening.

What first bugged me about the film's opening is that it gives away the film's ending.

Now, I know this is a PG family film, so good will probably triumph over evil, but it's not beyond the realms of possibility that Frank could have sacrificed himself to save Tomorrowland, or the like. In fact, one of Athena's decisions late in the film is caused by the fact that she thinks - for a split second - that Frank has been killed though we, as an audience, know that's not true.

We know that good will triumph, that the countdown clock behind the narration won't cause our annihilation (at this point we don't know exactly what it's counting down to), that all will be well, even to the extent that Frank and Casey will get on with one another.

All of this diminishes the impact of the journey we're about to embark upon.

Casey's Story.

This should - to begin with - be Casey's story, this gives us a grounding in a famliar world, our world, a world that has given up on imagination and makes Casey seem like even more of a bright optimistic spark in amongst the grey apathy all around her.

Rather than waste time with Frank addressing the audience we could spend a little bit more time getting to know Casey, her outlook, and the way the film sees the world - especially its attitude to media portrayls of the future.

Perhaps, if you want to start the film excitingly, you could open with the advert for the blockbuster apocalypse film we see advertised in the background of various shots. Then, whilst this disaster-flick destruction takes place on screen we pull back to reveal it's a television, perhaps being watched by Casey's little brother, emphasizing how dangerous it might be to fill youngster's heads with visions of doom, but we pull back further, out the window where Casey is working on some project, a rocket launch.

Her Dad comes out, says something like; "Casey, aren't you a little too old for that?"

Casey: "Oh, it's not mine, it's Nate's science project."

Dad (yelling into the house): "Nate, come out here and do you're own homework!"

Casey: "Actually, Dad, you're an engineer, why do you think..."

And so on, with the Dad explaining how he got fired, how someone sabotaged the launch platform - in this version we haven't seen Casey do it yet - and then the two work together on the rocket, fixing the problem together.

Anyway, we get to the space platform and Casey sabotages it again, the film proceeds as is, except this time we haven't had Frank's backstory at all so when Casey touches the pin and sees Tomorrowland we share her giddy rush because we're BOTH experiencing it together for the first time, and it's such a change from our present day (another issue being that the 1964 World's Fair was such an exuberant, heightened reality that it didn't feel like too much of a shift in design when we went to Tomorrowland) that we're equally as eager to return.

Frank's Story.

We shouldn't get to Frank's story until we meet him, in fact, the perfect place for it would be as they're travelling in the rocket ship from Paris about to journey to the Tomorrowland of now.

At this point in the film Frank is beginning to believe in Casey a little, and he could open up here and tell her the story of how he wound up discovering Tomorrowland as a young boy. This would give us a glimpse of Tomorrowland at the peak of its creative wonder just moments before we wind up in the Tomorrowland of now, making the contrast even more jarring and unsettling, it'd also make sense of the boy we glimpsed on the projector-like device in Frank's house and also Frank's long and complex relationship with Athena.

I think structuring the narrative in this fashion would have given the film a few more surprises, everything seemed so strangely devoid of discovery, which is odd for a film about adventuring, and holding off on meeting Frank - either as a man or boy - until later in the film, getting to know Casey (and the film's view of our world) first would have benefited the story and its impact.

Maybe allowing the film to allude to the problems we're facing today in a more subtle fashion than the slightly clunky school lesson montage.

I think it was for these reasons, rather than accusations that the film is preachy, that it's been receiving mixed-to-negative reviews, which is a shame as it does display those highly imaginative flourishes that typify all of Brad Bird's work, yet its in the delivery of the plot and characters that the film oddly becomes undone.

There's a great film tucked away inside Tomorrowland as it is, and I think a little bit of tinkering would've helped push that to the surface - even if some of the film's other problems perhaps existed in earlier stages of production.

Jurassic World

*SPOILERS, OF COURSE!*

The park is open and ticket sales are huge, beyond all expectations to be honest, so, why grumble, aye? I'm sure nobody at Universal is kicking themselves saying; "Gah, if only the characters had been stronger!" etc.

Maybe in the future people will also look back upon Jurassic World with some fondness, who knows? Though seeing how much of a re-tread it is of Jurassic Park and still how beholden it is to a lot of that film's narrative and set-pieces I can't imagine how it could ever be held up all of its own. It will always be a sequel, perhaps the best sequel, but always a lesser movie than the original.

Which is a shame because the potential was there for something a little better, something that took its cues from what really worked about the first film:

Characters and conflict.

You've got Dr. Alan Grant (Sam Neill) not getting on with kids being forced to look after two kids.

You've got Dr. Ian Malcom (Jeff Goldblum) being a flirty fellow and taking a shine to Dr. Ellie Satler (Laura Dern) who is involved with Dr. Alan Grant.

You've got John Hammond (Richard Attenborough) thinking he can win over the scientists with his technological wonders, but the only one who sees the potential in his endeavours is the "blood sucking lawyer", who later runs in fear leaving two young children to - as far as he knows - die.

Even within Hammond's team there are various conflicts of interest, the old-school ranger Muldoon (Bob Peck) has a cautious, tentative approach, there's something cynical and beleagured about Ray Arnold (Samuel L. Jackson) who clashes with Nedry (Wayne Knight), who seems to rub everyone up the wrong way.

Not to mention how Hammond can't see how a flea circus and a dinosaur safari park are any different, or the brief flash of sexism he displays when it comes to going out to check on Arnold which is called up on by Ellie.

Sure, it's not the most complex film in the world dramatically, but all these little touches serve to make the action more thrilling. When we invest in the characters and the relationship drama the set-pieces impact is increased tenfold.

In fact, some of the best set-pieces in Jurassic Park don't even involve dinosaurs, such as the sequence where Alan and the kids are climbing over a deactivated electric fence whilst - unbeknownst to them - Ellie is working to switch the power back on.

What do we have in Jurassic World?

We've got two kids going to the park to stay with their aunt, she's too busy to really spend any time with them so they're looked after by an au pair, who we don't get to know.

So, why are the kids going to the park without their parents? Well, it's briefly suggested that their parents are getting a divorce, which makes one of the kids Gray (Ty Simpkins) have a bit of a cry and his brother Zach (Nick Robinson) promises to be there for him, and then the whole divorce plot doesn't come up again at all.

Claire (Bryce Dallas Howard) - their aunt - is Jurassic World's operations manager, and is concerned with keeping visitor numbers up, to this extent she's meeting with sponsors about their new attraciton, a genetically engineered dinosaur called Indominus Rex. All this under the guidance of her - generally benevolent - employer Mr. Masrani (Irrfan Khan) who vaguely says things to Claire about being happy and not being such a number cruncher, etc. He is also two days away from his helicopter license.

You see, Claire's attitude is that people are bored with the "usual" dinosaurs, sure, the geneticists discover the occasional new species, but they want bigger,scarier, more teeth. Something to make them look up from their smartphones.

Meanwhile, Owen Grady (Chris Pratt) is training some velociraptors, why and what purpose the creatures serve in the park - or will serve - we're not really sure. Mr. Masrani wants him to look at the Indominus Rex enclosure to make sure it's suitable, so Claire goes to ask Owen to look at it.

Some flirting ensues, well, Owen makes some bawdy remarks because he's such an "alpha male" and it transpires that he was too scruffy on a date they once had and she - because she's all business-focused - made a schedule for their date.

There's also a security guy who wants to use the velociraptors for military purposes, though his villainly isn't gleeful enough to really make any impression.

So, what's wrong...?

I think what I enjoy the most about the first Jurassic Park is that the real problems with the whole dinosaur theme park endeavour stem more from the scientists belief that Hammond shouldn't be meddling with nature than with any overtly functional problem with the park itself.

It's not the dinosaurs that ultimately cause the chaos, it's Nedry's software that he designed to enable him to steal the embryos.

I guess thematically that's Nedry's belief that he can control technology going awry, which causes the park to collapse setting these other technological marvels that Hammond thought they could control loose. It's thematic dominoes.

In Jurassic World Owen (who constantly preaches the importance of understanding dinosaurs and being cautious, etc.) decides that because he saw some claw marks on the side of the compound that the Indominus Rex - a dinosaur that he has no idea what it looks like and what it's capable of - must have escaped, so he, and two other disposables, go into the enclosure to look at the claw marks.

Is this part of any lesson learning that Owen is due to receive later in the film? No, Owen, as a character, is constantly celebrated by Jurassic World as being a "bad ass", and whilst Claire later steps up to the plate and fends for herself it's more a case of her becoming more like Owen than the two of them ever finding some middle.

For the two kids with this distant Aunt they need to see her really come into her own, and this could come across later in the out-running a t-rex whilst wearing heels scene.

A fair bit has been said online about Claire's high heels (most notably in The Dissolve: https://thedissolve.com/news/5927-jurassic-world-high-heels-and-why-wardrobe-matters/ and a decent counter argument in Slate: http://www.slate.com/blogs/browbeat/2015/06/15/bryce_dallas_howard_s_high_heels_are_not_sexist_they_re_the_best_part_of.html), but what I believe Genevieve was really getting at in her article was not to grumble about the high heels per se, but to use them as one illustrative point as to how Jurassic World thinks it can set things up and never acknowledge them or pay them off (illustrated rather brilliantly and humorously in some tweets from musician JME: http://crackmagazine.net/2015/06/jme-saw-jurassic-world-and-he-didnt-enjoy-it/).
The annoying this is not that the film doesn't make sense, it just doesn't really seem to be trying.

More fun could be had if the film had embraced its concepts a bit more, there are loads of great ideas floating around in Jurassic World that it's frustrating to not have them realised.

First up, how about we ditch the military concept completely, at least, let's not dedicate any screentime to it. We don't need this discussed, this could just be a thought in the back of the security guards mind, maybe saved for a sequel which could really be Aliens with dinosaurs.

Also, it's frustrating that we wind up wasting time wandering about the jungle with the lost kids in a sloppy re-tread of tired old beats from the first three films. Especially as the reason for them winding up out in the jungle is pretty ropey, surely there'd be an over-ride for the gyropspheres, y'know just in case a guest was using them to ram into innocent dinosaurs or something? So the control team could remotely pilot them all back to the base of operations.

Secondly, there's no real lead-in as to why Zach would suddenly take his brother out past the security fence, maybe if throughout their visit to the park Gray hadn't seen any action, any excitement due to his brother constantly making him chase girls aorund instead. Finally, due to following a girl who seemed to be into him, they wind up in the gyrosphere and wrestle over the controls, winding up - unintentionally - passing through the hole in the fence and into the jungle?

Or, perhaps, Zach finally sees that his brother is having a terrible time, wants some excitement, so then suggests they go "off road".

However, I would have just preferred it if the Indominus Rex had burst into the gyrosphere area and we never had to trudge around the jungle - outside of the marines vs. dinosaurs elements.

Indeed, the jungle scenes lead us to one of my least favourite moments, an example of really clunky writing devoid of set-up.

The boys find themselves at the old Jurassic Park visitor's centre, overgrown with vegetation, covered in dust and debris. There they discover the old jeeps and suddenly Zach says something like; "Remember how we fixed up grandpa's old car..." and using a convenient nearby recently-crashed vehicle they swap the battery over and now have a fully operational jeep.

I'll accept that perhaps, maybe, if you're lucky, the jeep has no other problems, e.g. a car parked near where I work was sat out, unmoved, for four years and its tyres grew flat and began to become part of the road and shrubbery growing up into it!

But, what bugs me is that these kids - for no reason other than getting them out of there - suddenly know how to fix cars. It is painfully lacking in imagination. Ordinarily in screen-writing you want to write yourself into a corner and think of the best way to get out of it, and the best way is never to have a character suddenly say; "Oh, did I forget to mention that I can fix cars?"
So, don't bother, keep them in the operational theme park please.

Because the best scene in the film is when the flying dinosaurs attack the guests, it's full of malevolent glee and actually has some playful, inventive moments - like Jimmy Buffet's margarita saving cameo.

Though the contrivances that unleash these winged beasts aren't set up particularly well either, they sort of hinge on Mr. Masrani flying the helicopter, though the way we get there isn't exactly satisfying.

We see him walking out saying; "I'm going to fly the helicopter".

Not good enough.

Instead, as it had already been set-up that he was two days away from getting his license, and his co-pilot was last seen up-chucking in a bush, why not have the helicopter team head out. Claire wonders how that's possible as the pilot is sick. We cut to Masrani at the controls. It's a more fun moment, and makes his choice to be there seem that much more foolhardy, sure he's a fine pilot ultimately and that isn't really the issue, but, it just would have been a nicer way to deliver that moment.

Later, Owen continues to be remarkably smart by leading a pack of velociraptors out into battle only to realise he doesn't have control over them when it transpires that the Indominus Rex is part raptor and can communicate more effectively with the raptors - well, up until the plot decides Owen needs to be the alpha again. Additionally, during all of this, Owen instantly sides with the military and starts firing on his own raptors once he doubts their loyalty. Hey, maybe the Indominus is the mum and you're the dad Owen? Couldn't you just work things out together?

Finally, my biggest gripe with the film's set-ups and pay-offs is in the final face-off against the Indominus Rex.

All the raptors have switched sides back to Owen, they're fighting the I-Rex but not doing too well. "We need more teeth," says Gray, and Claire has an idea, she tells them to stay there and runs off, we know not why...

As I sat in the cinema, I was wondering at this moment; "What's been set up that's going to pay off here?"

The reveal that she was unleashing the T-Rex didn't feel like any kind of pay off, in fact, it felt like Zach saying he fixes cars, it was convenient - and it didn't have to be.

Part of the film's plot revolves around Claire saying that guests get bored of dinosaurs quickly, they want something bigger, more teeth, etc. Maybe we need to see a bit of that? Sure, the rest of the park's doing ok, but perhaps the T-Rex exhibit isn't the draw it used to be, maybe when Zach and Ty hurry in they're greeted with a poorly attended scene, maybe even a somewhat lacklustre looking T-Rex, one that's fed up with being a prize pet, no wonder people aren't coming to see it anymore, ah well, poor T-Rex, "That sucks," grumbles Zach, he doesn't even instagram it, onto the next thing.

What we've done there is show that the T-Rex used to be the king, but now nobody cares. Colin Trevorrow the director has said that he wanted the final showdown to be like Rocky vs. Apollo, and, yep, that's what I thought too. Except, Rocky T-Rex needs to swagger into that ring like the former champ everyone's written off, so when he does show up it's like the old guard truly come to give the new kid a whupping.

It needs to be sold as a moment, and a sprinkling of back-story could show that.

Maybe we even get a glimpse of the new marketing that would replace T-Rex hoardings with Indominus Rex images, "COME AND SEE THE NEW RULER OF THE DINOSAURS!" it'd cry.

So when the T-Rex finally comes out it's firstly to chase a human - oh goody, sport - and then, it stops in its tracks, spots the I-Rex, ding-ding, round one...

Jurassic World's bare bones are all in the right order, and whilst they put a good skin on those bones, it actually needed some decorative feathers to really work.

So many strands of the narrative that could be used to improve the tension by building upon the characters - e.g. brother's relationship, sibling rivalries, parent's divorce, maybe giving Owen some acknowledged flaws and a backstory - are just left hanging.

Whilst the brains behind Jurassic World have stumbled upon a formula that for the moment is bringing them huge fortunes, it's a shame that - like the Indominus Rex - it's going to flounder when it stands toe-to-toe with a true great; the original Jurassic Park.

Edge Of Tomorrow

*SPOILERS! OBVIOUSLY...*

There's been a lot of love for Edge Of Tomorrow, a smart, funny, exciting blockbuster that took a seemingly tired concept and made something entertaining and surprising. However there's been a lot of grumbling directed towards the movie's ending, and indeed, when I saw it I felt a tad short-changed too, but I'd built up enough goodwill for the movie by then to forgive it this final stumble.

Interestingly one of the screenwriters - Christopher McQuarrie - has spoken to Film School Rejects about his original take on the ending, either approaching it as a 'downer' in that Cruise kills the big bad alien but stays dead this time, or leaving it with the doubt that anything actually ever happened.

I mean, the film was perilously close from doing a Next* and leaving the audience feeling cheated by having the film reset to before anything actually happened anyway.

My issue with the ending is not because it resets back, it's that it misunderstands the journey of our two main characters: Bill (Tom Cruise) and Rita (Emily Blunt).

It's established earlier in the film that Rita previously had the time-loop power that Bill now possesses. She lost it thanks to a blood transfusion because she lost consciousness rather than - the preferred - dying. She expresses her fury and frustration because she felt like she was close to finding the Omega creature and ending the war forever. Clearly she holds a massive personal grudge against this Omega, and - having become the poster child for this war - she needs to kill it to close her arc.

Bill on the other hand needs to learn about sacrifice, about the heroes of war, the people he used to just run the marketing campaigns about, urging other innocent men and women to sign up and be massacred in their thousands. Through his journey of training and trying again and again he lives out the experience of war, the countless, near pointless sacrifices, that these people make. His goal is to get Rita to that Omega.

So, the film would play out exactly as it does, with our last act beginning when Bill wakes up to find out he's been given a blood transfusion and has lost the power to reset the day.

It continues as he takes his squad to Paris, to where they believe the Omega to be located, and, again, everything plays out just like it does in the film.

Bill and Rita make it into the main lair, where the Omega is deep underwater and an Alpha - along with a few other Mimics - prowl the grounds. As they do in the film, Bill goes off after the Omega and Rita distracts the Alpha.

Bill loses sight of Rita, he hurries towards the pool where the Omega waits, however as he nears he doesn't see the Mimic emerging from the shadows behind him - we do - he's psyching himself up, about to make his final move, and then the Mimic strikes -

Bill turns. It's too close.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

From off screen Rita unloads her rifle into the creature, destroying it.

Bill's bewildered, she hurries forward, pushes him down as another just misses them both, she swings her weapon round, fires, taking that one down too.

"Don't worry," she says, "I've done this before."

He realises that when they were seperated she took the power from the Alpha again. He watches as she performs an incredible feat, dispatching Mimics that seem to keep emerging from nowhere.

"What are you waiting for?"

Bill realises, she's now passed the baton onto him to take down the Omega - honestly I'd rather Rita killed it, but I doubt Cruise would have let himself be so passive in the film's conclusion, but you never know, he's a smart guy when it comes to film - and he does so in much the same way as it plays out in the film now.

Once it's dead everything resets back to before and the film concludes with them sharing a look in the training room.

I think, for my tastes, Rita became a bit too unimportant once we got to Paris and it would have validated her character if she could have got her chance to help in those final moments rather than being killed as a way of giving Bill that final push to succeed and sacrifice himself. I believe it's called being "fridged" in comic book tropes, and it's a shame that it happens to Rita because she's such a great character outside of that.

Anyway, so that's my alternative ending for the film. Not a massive change, but I think - considering how strong the film was until the final fight - a very important one that would have really elevated those climactic moments.

　
*The worst Nicolas Cage film ever, and believe me, there are plenty of contenders. This one nudges out even Ghost Rider by having an ending so infuriatingly insulting that it made me feel like the entire film had stolen my time and spat it into my face.

Scream 4

CAUTION! SPOILERS APLENTY!

The fourth film in the franchise seemed determined to do a couple of things simultaneously, the first was to atone for the rather poor near-spoofy third film, the second was to somehow act as both a sequel and a reboot of the franchise. Generally I thought the film was pretty so-so, it had its moments, but then all the Scream films do despite their overall success. But not one Scream has managed to match that balance of thrills, jump-moments and smart comedy that made the first film such a breakout hit.

With the opening scene in this four-quel Kevin Williamson and Wes Craven delivered a double-whammy of movies-within-movies that rather brilliantly played upon audience expectations for how a Scream film should begin.

Beyond that it was pretty much business as usual, with Sidney Prescott (Neve Campbell) returning to her hometown, where it all began 15 years ago, to publicize a motivational book about confronting and dealing with fear. Meanwhile there's Sheriff Dewey (David Arquette) still amiably goofing about, having a somewhat frayed marriage with former reporter Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox), and a whole heap of new teen characters and disposable others to be despatched or suspected once the screams start.

The first big problem with the film almost didn't exist, in fact, it was nearly the first thing about the film that really made me sit up in my seat and root for it, and it happens the first time Sidney and Ghostface meet.



It's the usual running around the house routine, but this time Sidney doesn't run, she squares straight up to Ghostface and gives 'him' a hefty kicking, and this new character beat was perfect and exciting. At long last here would be a scream-queen who wouldn't turn tail shrieking when the masked murderer enters the building, sure she's not going to dumbly stroll into an impossible situation, but she's not going to chicken out. This would mean the filmmakers would have to be even more inventive with how the killer gets under Sidney's skin and...

Oh no, they changed their minds, and Sidney becomes her usual self in next to no time.

It made me think about Steve Miner's rather good sequel Halloween: H20, where after all the generally teen-based slash-em-up fair has gone on for long enough, Jamie Lee Curtis' long suffering Laurie Strode decides to face her brother alone, she grabs an axe from a nearby fire safety point and strolls across the deserted schoolyard to where she believes her brother will be waiting, and that spine-tingling John Carpenter theme music kicks in. It's a brilliant moment, it doesn't turn Strode into some sort of 'Stallone-like' superhero, it just reinforces the point that she's been running away for so long and it's time to stop running and finish this.



Just a shame that they ended up brining her back for some more terrible sequels after that. Tsk!

Anyway, firstly, Williamson and Craven needed to maintain the strength of Sidney's character, I mean, she'd come to town to promote a book about facing your fears, and she does very little of that in the film. In fact, by the end scene where the killers are revealed she's pretty much going through exactly the same routine as she did at the end of the first film. Perhaps a deliberate 'remake' nod on the part of the creative team, but not really effective with regards to the overall structure of the franchise, it's a moment that seems lazy, her reaction there more to allow the villain to monologue for a bit.

So, the next biggest problem with the film's script was the ending, and that really matters in a slasher movie like this because essentially, moreso than a horror film, the Scream movies are 'whodunnit' mysteries, the scenes where people are being killed are pretty much totally interchangeable unless it's Dewey/Gale/Sydney being pursued, though it's also a huge shame that the filmmakers didn't have the guts to kill off any of their Holy Trinity.

In the end the film's message is 'originals are better than the remakes', the mastermind behind the killings was Sidney's cousin Jill (Emma Roberts) who wants to be famous - like Sidney - for surviving all the horrible killings, whilst framing her ex-boyfriend Trevor for it all. She stabs Sidney in the stomach, proceeds to mutilate herself and wakes up in hospital with all the press fawning over her miraculous escape.



Now, this is, to some degree, almost a great ending if the following ten minutes didn't happen in which Jill finds out Sidney survived the stabbing, she then goes to Sidney's hospital room to finish her off, only to have the Dewey/Gale cavalry show up, and Sidney finally kills Jill, quipping; "Never fuck with the original."

Sigh.

I kind of liked the ending - ignoring Sidney's whimpering - up to the point where Jill wakes up in the hospital and discovers Sidney survived, and I would have been happier and more impressed by the filmmakers if it had gone either of two ways:

1. Police turn up to the house, paramedics come in and find the bodies, Sidney is pronounced dead in front of Dewey and Gale, who embrace. A paramedic looks up from Jill's body and calls out that she's still breathing. Gale and Dewey accompany her on a stretcher as she's being taken to an ambulance. Dewey says some comforting and goofy things to her, which Jill nods wearily at. Gale, rather opportunistically, asks Jill to promise that she'll give her first interview to her, Jill feebly agrees. She is loaded into the back of the ambulance and just as the doors close she lets a happy little grin escape onto her evil face. The end.

2. The ending is exactly the same as it is, even including Jill waking up in the hospital with Dewey next to her bed. However, he is upset because Sidney died, he tells Jill this, expresses some confusion over the case, his tone is peculiar, a little detached, Jill plays it all angelic and innocent, but she can't help feeling a little confused. Dewey gets up to go, he stops at the door and looks back at Jill half over his shoulder, says; "Y'know, there are certain rules in order to survive a scary movie..." He lets out a little sniff of a laugh before turning on the television set and walking out. Jill sits in the bed, looking towards where Dewey left, but the words from the television enter her consciousness; "Viewers may want to look away, as this footage is quite disturbing." The sounds from the television are replaced with the sounds of the scene in which Jill is smashing herself into furniture around the house in order to get away with murder. Jill's eyes grow wide and worried as she watches, realising that the footage she is watching came from the geeky teen Robbie's headset camera and these images were broadcast live across the internet. Jill moves to leave the bed, but realises she's handcuffed to the frame. The end.

I think Ending #1 would have really pissed off a lot of people, I do love an unhappy horror ending, but I think Ending #2 would have been absolutely brilliant and would have forgiven the film for a number of its lazier earlier scenes. It would have closed the book on Sidney's story once and for all in a unique and dramatically surprising fashion, and I think it would have given the audience a satisfying feeling as they left the cinema. I know people 'want' to see the baddie get killed in an exciting way, but the scene in which Jill attacked Sidney in her hospital room was ridiculous, not least because it completely destroyed Jill's defense.