Tag Archives: Dakota Johnson

“MADAME WEB” Review (Zero Stars)

SOURCE: Sony Pictures

Why madame, what big webs you have! 

Madame Web is an ugly, excruciating, and incomprehensible waste of a film — the cinematic equivalent of excrement if there ever was one. Not a single thing worked in this movie. Every single frame was rancid from cringey dialogue, incomprehensible editing, God-awful visual effects and performances so flimsy and weak that stick figures would have been more convincing. Its failure runs so deep and so thoroughly that I’m more aghast than I am angry. How can you stay mad at something that’s so pathetic?

The movie follows Cassandra Webb (Dakota Johnson), a paramedic who learns that she has precognitive abilities that allows her to see into the future. During one of her visions, she sees a man in a spider costume start killing these innocent teenage girls on a train. His name is Ezekiel Sims (Tahir Rahim), and he has a premonition that these three teenagers will become Spider-Women in the future and kill him. How does he know this, and why do they want to kill him? The movie never explains either because it doesn’t expect you to, well, think, while watching.  

This movie is so baffling to me for several reasons, but let me start with one of the more obvious ones — absolutely nobody asked for nor wanted a Madame Web movie. Out of all of Spider-Man’s cast of characters, Madame Web’s role is minimal at best, and her appearances are limited to just a handful of TV shows and video games. She does not have the notoriety to justify a cameo in a Spider-Man movie, let alone getting her own movie. 

Still, I always say the idea isn’t what matters most — it’s how it’s executed that makes the difference. Several obscure comic book characters have made their big-screen debuts over the past several years, including Thor, Ant-Man, Shazam, Shang-Chi, and The Suicide Squad. All of those movies were successful because they had a deep-rooted love for these characters and they understood how to translate their stories to the big screen. Ten years ago, I predicted that Guardians Of The Galaxy was going to be the MCU’s biggest flop and thought it was Marvel’s dumbest idea to date. Then just last year, the Guardians deeply moved me and made me sob my eyes out in their third and final movie. Because of this, I will never dismiss a premise outright, even if it’s a bad one. It’s all about how you approach it. 

The problem is Madame Web had no approach. No, I don’t mean that it was poorly executed — I mean it had no execution, period. So much is wrong with this movie all at once that it’s hard to break down what exactly went wrong, because EVERYTHING went wrong. It’s like trying to look through a kid’s vomit in the cafeteria — you can see everything that went into him, but it’s harder to see what exactly made him sick.

The biggest problem by far is the film’s writing. I know, surprise surprise that the writers of Morbius turned out yet another dumpster fire. But somehow, Madame Web is even worse. At least Morbius had hilariously bad moments, like when Matt Smith was twerking in the bathroom or when Jared Leto says “I am Venom.” Madame Web’s writing is just as bad as Morbius’ and even less fun, which is really saying something. 

I could talk about how God-awful the dialogue is in this movie, like when Cassie tells a young Ben Parker “What, you don’t want to get shot in Queens?” or when another character absolutely BUTCHERS the “with great power comes great responsibility” line. Instead I would like to focus on the characters, because the character work here is horrendous. All of the pre-Spider-Women are brain-dead nitwits who are more concerned about flirting with random guys than they are about avoiding the murderous Spider-killer hunting them. Ezekiel Sims lacks any sort of intimidating presence and feels like he can be shoved aside in the subway. And Cassie is just straight-up unlikeable. Instead of being protective of these girls once she realizes they’re in danger, she immediately tries to pawn them off, saying “You’re your parents’ problem now.” Are you kidding me??? Why are you a paramedic if you don’t give a rip what happens to other people? You’d be better off being a slimy corporate executive, or perhaps more appropriately, a Warner Bros. or Sony Pictures studio head. 

The most frustrating thing is that I’ve seen these actors in better movies — they can act, and they can act well. Dakota Johnson was a marvel in Black Mass, Our Friend, and Peanut Butter Falcon and shows that she can display depth and drama when given a good part. Tahar Rahim was nominated for both a BAFTA and a Golden Globe for playing the lead in The Mauritanian and “The Serpent.” But Sydney Sweeney is sadly the absolute worst of them all. This is an Emmy-nominated actress who’s put out one emotional performance after another with the likes of “The Handmaiden’s Tale,” “The White Lotus” and “Euphoria.” Yet here, she’s so clueless and ditzy that she couldn’t even pull off a cameo in “Degrassi.” 

And sadly, all of the film’s technical elements are just as awful as the writing and acting is. The CGI is so obviously cartoonish that it looks like PS3-era video game graphics. The sound dubbing is so jarring and awkward that I’m still not entirely convinced the actors didn’t deliver their lines on-set. The editing is so choppy and incomprehensible that it makes Transformers look Oscar-worthy by comparison. I’m not exaggerating when I say that nothing worked in this movie. Say whatever you will about Spider-Man 3, The Amazing Spider-Man 2, or even Morbius — at least those movies had individual elements that were technically impressive, whether it was the music, the action, or the visual effects. Madame Web has none of that. It. Has. Nothing.

Yet as terrible as this movie is, I don’t want to blame the cast, who feel more like victims to the script rather than its stars. I don’t want to blame the film’s director S.J. Clarkson, who prior to this CGI abomination had an illustrious TV career directing for shows such as “Heroes,” “Dexter,” “Orange Is The New Black,” “Jessica Jones,” and more recently “Succession.” I don’t even want to blame the film’s writers which, sure aren’t good, but they’ve previously written projects that are at least watchable.

No, for a stinker this bad, I place the blame squarely on the shoulders of the film’s producers, especially Transformers and G.I. Joe producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura. Because at the end of the day, it’s their responsibility for how poorly this turned out. Whether they were too involved with this film’s production or they weren’t involved at all doesn’t matter — somebody left the wheel in the driver’s seat unattended. And as a result, this train wreck crashed into all of us poor unsuspecting moviegoers. 

Madame Web represents everything wrong not just with superhero movies, but with movies period. When people say they don’t like big-budget blockbusters, they aren’t talking about legitimately good movies like Top Gun: Maverick, Avatar: The Way of Water, or John Wick: Chapter 4. They’re talking about movies like this — cheap, insincere, incomprehensible hogwash that would fail a fifth-grader in their English lit class, let alone an entire film production. Madame Web clearly does not have the gift of foresight, because if she did, she would have seen how terribly her story would have turned out and fired her agent ahead of time.

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“FIFTY SHADES OF GREY” Review (✫)

SOURCE: Universal Pictures

“Mr. Grey will see you now.” “I’m actually leaving, thanks.”

My thoughts the night that I watched Fifty Shades of Grey:

6:05 p.m.: Took my girlfriend to Olive Garden before showtime. She tells me how excited she is to watch the movie. I’m thinking how badly I want to watch The Spongebob Movie instead.

7:11 p.m.: We drive up to the movie theater, pick up our tickets, and wait in line to enter the show. There are way too many couples here for comfort, especially dressed in black.

7:26 p.m.: Opening credits roll. We catch a slight glimpse of Jamie Dornan’s backside as Christian Grey. All of the women in the audience gasp, including the one right next to me.

7:28 p.m.: We meet Anastasia Steele, portrayed by Dakota Johnson, kissing her sick roommate goodbye before leaving for the day. One: I’ve never known any roommates of any kind to ever do this. Two: Did she seriously just kiss her SICK roommate goodbye? Is she not concerned about germs? Viruses? Cooties?

7:29 p.m.: As Ana parks her car, author E.L. James’ credit comes up for writing the book that this is based on. I suddenly remember that Fifty Shades of Grey was originally written as Twilight fan-fiction. God help me.

7:31 p.m.: Jamie Dornan turns around, and we get our first full-body glimpse of him as Christian Grey. The women gasp again. I’m assuming there’s some wet seats at this point.

7:33 p.m.: Okay, so let me walk through this. This girl’s roommate, who is an experienced college journalist, gets sick, so she asks her clueless roommate to conduct this very important interview with a multi-millionaire playboy for her? Why couldn’t she get one of her journalism friends to cover this story? I wouldn’t leave an interview that important to my inexperienced roommate, let alone one as inept and clumsy as Ana.

7:46 p.m.: Ana is working at her local department store when, EGADS! She meets Mr. Grey again. What a coincidence! I never saw that one coming!

7:48 p.m.: A few thoughts I’m having during this scene. One: Why is Christian shopping at a department store all by himself? Doesn’t he have people to do that for him? And if he went specifically into the store just to give Ana his number, again, why not have your people do it for you? Two: He’s buying, I kid you not, cable ties, masking tape, and rope. The women in the auditorium gasp again. Who on Earth gets aroused by this? These women are wondering what Christian would do to their bodies, while I’m wondering where he’s hiding the actual bodies. Ana even remarks that he’s now the complete serial killer. Honey. Lock up the store and call the police.

7:49 p.m.: The quality of this dialogue confirms that this is definitely based on Twilight fan-fiction. Johnson and Dornan’s chemistry is so wooden that they feel like those two motorized figures that pop out of a cuckoo clock. I’m hoping their acting gets better as the movie goes on.

8:03 p.m.: It does not get better.

8:18 p.m.: After meeting only a couple of times and playing Ellie Goulding over a helicopter ride to Christian Grey’s apartment, we finally approach our first sex scene, where Ana reveals that she’s a virgin. Christian grabs her whilst saying number 21 from the “Most Overused Dialogue” catalog: “Where have you been all my life???” Anastasia then quotes number 26: “Waiting for you.” Somebody please kill me.

8:30 p.m.: We’re an hour into this movie and I can’t tell you how badly I want to leave. I’ve heard way too many gasps and groans in the audience for my own comfort. The guys, I presume, are as miserable as I am right now. My girlfriend, meanwhile, is grinning from ear-to-ear through the whole screening. I’m starting to question this entire relationship.

8:42 p.m.: Ana is reading off Christian’s “contract” for him, which says what she is required to do if she is to become Christian’s “submissive” (BDSM term for friends with benefits). She firmly says “no anal,” and he winces. For the first and only time in this movie, I sympathized with Christian Grey.

8:43 p.m.: And finally, an hour into this movie, we get our first objectively well-done scene. In the dark hues of red and black in the negotiation room, Christian and Anastasia converse on what they would do to each other in the bedroom. The dialogue here is hot and heavy, and the sexual tension is bubbling just enough to where you can feel it simmering under the surface. The camera closes in slowly on both of the actor’s faces, while the editing cuts smoothly back and forth between their expressions while the music builds up. Fantastic. This is the kind of film technique this movie has been desperately needing 70 minutes ago.

8:54 p.m.: Back to the plastic sex scenes. Great. Just what I needed.

8:56 p.m.: Girls are squealing in the auditorium as if Justin Bieber walked in front of the screen. I see the depressed, defeated postures of the men surrounding me. One is burying his head into his hands. Another is leaning back in his seat, apparently trying to sleep through the torture. I think I heard one of them sobbing.

9:21 p.m.: We arrive at the, err, climax of the movie, where Ana discovers what truly arouses Christian Grey. It’s him whipping her back with a flogger. She’s crying tears to the equivalent of those Hallmark romantic comedies. “This gives you pleasure?” she exasperatingly asks. Well, duh. What did you think BDSM stood for? Big, Dull, Sour Moron? Not that it isn’t fitting for Mr. Grey, but I’m just saying, know your abbreviations sweetheart.

9:28 p.m.: Ana leaves through the elevator and says goodbye to Christian as it closes. They should have edited this shot into the beginning and saved us an hour and a half of agony.

9:50 p.m.: I drive my girlfriend home, and we discuss the movie over a glass of Pinot Noir. She asked me what I thought of the movie. I laughed hollowly. “This was my own BDSM experience with all of the torture and none of the pleasure,” I quipped. She seemed surprised. She tells me she actually really liked the movie and was looking forward to its sequels.

Anyhow, that’s the story of how me and my ex-girlfriend broke up.

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