B | A private detective duo searches for a missing child. Directed by Ben Affleck Starring Casey Affleck, Michele Monaghan, and Amy Ryan Review by Jon Kissel |

![]() Martin Scorsese, patron saint of the grubby Mafia movie, turned his eye to Boston with The Departed, the film that moved him away from the Italian Americans of his heritage and won him his Oscar under the premise that Irish Americans can be crooked bastards, too. Scorsese’s pull in the industry gave him access to top talent, Boston roots or not. The following year, legendary Bostonian Ben Affleck chose a similar setting for his directorial debut, and based on the aesthetic disparity in casting, it feels like Affleck took The Departed as a challenge. Scorsese can play in Affleck’s backyard, but can he bring the authenticity of a person who was raised in Boston? Gone Baby Gone is a strong start for its director, in no small part because the casting of major roles and insubstantial background players is considered and real, providing the viewer with a transporting experience to a place they definitely don’t want to go. Affleck clearly loves his hometown city, but maybe not this particular neighborhood.
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With his 34th film, Steven Spielberg isn’t going for spectacle or the weight of grand historical events. In the Fabelmans, Spielberg is changing all the broken family subtext in so many of his movies into text, finally making an autobiographical film about his childhood unencumbered by aliens, friendly or otherwise. As he approaches his ninth decade, Spielberg is still able to connect to the wonder of a child, only this time, the child is him. A combination of finding the passion that will sustain a life and uncovering adult messiness, the Fabelmans is likely to be Spielberg’s only crack at his upbringing though there’s enough material there for another attempt. While this go is imperfect in its broad scope, one of the great American artists and perhaps the greatest pop artist is incapable of making anything less than a thoughtful and propulsive film, as long as we agree that Ready Player One never happened.
![]() Michael Crichton was one of the first popular novelists that I dove into as an adolescent. His blend of the highly technical, embodied in pages of genetic code in Jurassic Park, flattered my intelligence while his graphic depictions of velociraptors’ penchant for disemboweling sated my bloodlust. Crichton’s ability to do both made him extremely relevant to mid-90’s media, from the blockbuster success of Jurassic Park to his creation of ER. Future adaptations of his books like Sphere, Rising Sun, Disclosure, and The Lost World would fail to replicate those earlier successes, and the same holds true for Congo. Though a financial success, Frank Marshall’s adaptation is a bit of a joke, lampooned on bad movie podcasts for its interspecies sexual chemistry and gonzo finale. For mid-90’s globe-trotting adventures that got rented from the video store for sleepovers, it works well enough. There’s plenty to appreciate from a well-cast flick that pushes the boundaries of a PG-13 rating.
![]() The classic monsters of early Hollywood were at first treated as figures of fear, but the intellectual property machine soon put them on a double-bill with comic actors like Abbott and Costello. A comedy duo pratfalling away from the wolfman is music to a studio executive’s ears, making synergistic cash from two distinct pieces of content. Many decades later, Stephen Sommers’ The Mummy goes back to the early-century well for plot and name recognition, takes inspiration from the swashbuckling dual pistols and loud punches of Indiana Jones, and sprinkles in some Abbott and Costello characters, all while making Universal studios very happy with the piles of gold it generated. By far the best thing Sommers ever did, The Mummy turns its leads into stars while operating as one of the best blockbuster period adventures since the aforementioned Indy punched Nazis and chose wisely. This deft balance of action, comedy, and horror is summer filmmaking at its breeziest and most entertaining.
![]() Two late-century blockbuster filmmaking trends clash in Joe Johnston’s The Rocketeer. Combining the WWII-era preview serials that inspired Indiana Jones with comic book stories like Batman and Dick Tracy, The Rocketeer is uniquely situated between genres. As a mid-tier action director, i.e. the kind of guy who directs the third Jurassic Park movie after Spielberg’s established the first two, Johnston might’ve made his career on The Rocketeer. With the marketing power of Disney behind it, things should’ve worked out better than they did, as The Rocketeer goes in for a modest landing and the would-be franchise only has its one entry. Johnston’s film presents this outcome as neither justified nor tragic, allowing for the possibility of future entertaining Nazi-punching sequels but not so accomplished or rousing that their loss is a blow to cinema. The Rocketeer is a fun throwback to American can-do unity and earnest adventure filmmaking, but it’s fine that lead Billy Campbell didn’t become a household name. |
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