DESTROYER

Nicole Kidman     Toby Kebbell     Bradford Whitford    Sebastian Stan    Scoot McNairy

Tatiana Maslany     James Jordan     Jade Pettyjohnn

     This is one of those films where you have to work hard just to keep up with the characters and the story, partly because Director Karyn Kusama chose to switch back and forth in time rather than tell the tale chronologically.  It’s a common practice I literally hate, and see no reason for it—except to make us work hard.  Perhaps filmmakers think it increases the mystery, because the viewer doesn’t have critical information until almost the end of the film. But that’s not a good reason.

     Destroyer had the potential to be a fine thriller, but fails because of the above and because by the time critical information is given, it serves only to draw out the story and drag on and on when you just want it to end.

     We’re thrown off base right away, when Detective Erin Bell (an almost unrecognizable Kidman) drags herself around a murder scene amidst the taunts of other detectives already there.  She spots significant clues, and goes to the police station to still more taunts.  She is the only one who could recognize some tell tale signs at the murder scene, but you won't know that this is the end of the movie, rather than the beginning of the story.  

     To avoid spoilers, I will refrain from going into the story at all.  Erin Bell is the focus and reason for the story and for the title itself.  She is a detective on the Los Angeles Police force, who has become persona non grata, and must endure taunts from all sides, including criminals and her own daughter.  We’re immediately curious about her history—which is a rich one—but must travel back and forth in time among a myriad of characters to learn about only a fraction of it.

Acting in this film is its strongest asset.  Award-winning Nicole Kidman (in three films just this year:  Destroyer, Boy Erased, and Aquaman plus television’s “Big Little Lies”) captures and sustains your attention throughout the film, which (in its disjointed way) is about who she is and part of how she came to be.  (I say “part”, because that’s all we get.)  Toby Kebbell and Bradley Whitford provide terrifying cameos that make you shiver, and Tatiana Maslany and Jade Pettyjohn play their roles of fleshing out the plot aptly.

     There is so much potential for soul in this story, that it’s a crying shame the ones responsible seemed to miss their own point.  The tale of a sharp but discredited detective with a back-story who continues to persevere contains the makings of a moving human story; but this film is not the one to tell it.  The title itself proves the filmmakers’ absence of empathy and insight into the main character.

About plans gone wrong in so many ways.

Grade:  C+                                    By Donna R. Copeland

A MONSTER CALLS

Lewis MacDougall     Sigourney Weaver     Felicity Jones     Toby Kebbell     Geraldine Chaplin     Liam Neeson

          Recurring nightmares can be transformed into a fable to guide a 13 year-old boy in coping with his mother’s terminal illness.   A Monster Calls—originally a novel by Patrick Ness and realized in a movie with the same title by Director J. A. Bayona—uses Conor’s (MacDougall) nightmares to help him accept the anger inside him and face the reality of his mother’s condition.  In the wonderfully artistic, animated film (Cinematographer Oscar Faura, Production Designer Eugenio Caballero and the special effects crew), the Monster (voice of Neeson) is a yew tree near Conor’s house which comes alive as a huge gnarly monster.  The yew tree is considered to have healing powers, but we also find out later that this particular tree is meaningful to Conor’s mother.  Conor is very close to his mother (his father is far away in another country), and they have a special connection in their artwork.

          The Monster is not a gentle tree, it comes crashing through Conor’s house breaking up everything in its wake with fiery eyes at exactly 12:07 am.  It will appear three times to tell him a story, and at the fourth time, Conor must tell his story.  Conor resists it with everything he can muster, which is not what he does with the bully at school.  That’s because he is not ready to acknowledge the anger inside.  But after his mother tells him after the Monster’s first visit that the yew tree has healing powers, he asks the Monster for help in making his mother better.

        Each of the Monster’s stories produces a strong reaction in Conor that results in destruction, anguish, and agonizing over their meaning.  The Monster’s answers to Conor’s insistent questions (“Who’s the good guy here!?”) involve paradoxes meant to help Conor evolve from his black and white view of people and the world to one that contains the complexities of life and human nature, e.g., “You meant it and you did not mean it.  Both are true.”

        An important component of the story is that after Conor’s acting out his anger in various ways, he is not punished.  Instead, when he asks in wonder why, he is told, “What could possibly be the point?”  Adults like his grandmother (Weaver), whom he detests, his father (Kebbell) and the head teacher (Chaplin) take it for granted that he is angry and needs to express it.  Kudos to these wise, insightful authority figures.

        A Monster Calls is in the genre of tales like “Hansel and Gretel”, where horrific fantasies are intended to teach principles that help children grow up.  It explicitly and forcefully shows the debilitating effects of cancer and its effect on the patient’s child/children, but it also offers an effective means for children to use to get through the experience.  Art has been shown time after time to be effective in helping children express their thoughts and feelings about illness, death, and loss.  This film beautifully presents a graphic representation of how/why that is helpful.

A raw, realistic look at terminal illness from a bullied child’s point of view, redeemed by a graphic illustration of what can help.

Grade:  A                    Donna R. Copeland