Author name: Roger Hyttinen

This post is part of my movie-a-day challenge in which I will watch a film every day for 365 days. Today is Day 305! You can see all the posts for this challenge HERE. To see the original Movie-a-Day Challenge post, click HERE.

Hey, friends!

So, I finally got around to watching The Creator—you know, that new sci-fi flick from 2023 that had everyone talking like it was the next big thing. It’s directed by Gareth Edwards — you know, the guy who brought us “Godzilla” (2014) and “Rogue One”? I’ve gotta say, I went in with this weird mix of excitement and skepticism—like, I was pumped for the visual feast but also low-key worried it would be all flash and no substance, just another shiny robot movie trying way too hard to be profound. But, boy, was I wrong. It’s like a rollercoaster ride that slams on the brakes halfway through and turns into a leisurely stroll through a philosophical garden. Intrigued?

So, the movie’s set in, like, this dystopian future where AI and humanity are basically at war, and I couldn’t help thinking about the whole “art imitates life” situation we’re in right now with AI getting smarter and (according to some folks) kinda terrifying. Now this isn’t your everyday Siri-gone-rogue scenario, but a full-blown conflict with advanced robots.

John David Washington plays Joshua, a hardened ex-special forces agent tasked with hunting down the Creator, the elusive architect of the AI’s ultimate weapon. is tasked with finding and destroying this super-powered AI weapon.

But here’s the kicker: the weapon is a kid, named Alphie (Madeleine Yuna Voyles). A freaking six-year-old AI who looks more like an actual kid than any doll I had growing up, and, yeah, cue all the complicated feelings.

Washington is his usual intense self, bringing a gravitas to Joshua’s haunted past and inner turmoil. But it’s Voyles who steals the show. Like, you know how some kids seem to have wisdom beyond their years? It’s like that, but times ten. Alphie’s connection with Joshua is, okay, unexpected. I was half-prepared for their relationship to fall into cheesy territory, but there’s this raw, almost parental love that sneaks up on you. Believe me, it’s quite disarming, especially when you start to question who’s saving whom here.

But despite being an AI, Alphie is surprisingly emotive, thanks to Voyles’ nuanced performance and some impressive CGI. Her bond with Joshua forms the emotional core of the film, and it’s genuinely touching to see Joshua’s hardened exterior soften as he interacts with Alphie.

But then, the film takes a sharp turn. It shifts gears from action-packed spectacle to a more introspective exploration of humanity and AI. We delve into questions of consciousness, free will, and what it truly means to be alive. It’s heady stuff, and while some might find it a bit jarring, I appreciated the ambition. It’s like Edwards is trying to challenge us, to make us think beyond the explosions and laser beams.

One of the things that got to me was the moral grayness of the whole thing. There’s no clear hero or villain—just a bunch of beings, human or otherwise, trying to survive in this mess of a world (though there are a couple of characters who tiptoe dangerously close into ‘asshole’ territory). The film doesn’t spoon-feed you ethical answers, which is almost frustrating at times, but also gave my brain some much-needed food for thought. I guess I’m into movies that make me think while I’m still trying to digest my popcorn, you feel me?

Now, I’m not usually one to get all philosophical, but this film hit me. Like, in this blend of circuits and flesh, where does humanity actually end? And am I really that different from a machine just trying to make sense of feelings and memories? Maybe it was the movie or maybe it was the late-night popcorn-induced existentialism, but yeah, I went there.

Anyway, The Creator is the kind of movie that packs an emotional punch in places you weren’t expecting it to, while still delivering on the shiny sci-fi spectacle we all crave. It’s not perfect, but it’s certainly ambitious and visually stunning. And, honestly, sometimes that’s exactly what I want: something that’s a little messy, a little beautiful, and sticks with you longer than just the two-hour runtime. Just be prepared for a wild ride that might leave you with more questions than answers.

Cheers!
Roger and Out

Did you know that you can receive a short story in your inbox every Monday if you subscribe to my newsletter? Subscribe today to begin receiving site and book news as well as your weekly story. You can do so HERE.

This post is part of my movie-a-day challenge in which I will watch a film every day for 365 days. Today is Day 304! You can see all the posts for this challenge HERE. To see the original Movie-a-Day Challenge post, click HERE.

Hi friends!

So, last night, I finally got around to watching “The Brothers Grimm” (2005), directed by the one and only Terry Gilliam. I’d heard mixed things about it over the years, but I’m a sucker for anything with a fantastical twist, so I was excited to give it a shot. Let me tell you, this movie is a wild ride from start to finish!

Let me just start by saying this movie is weird in the best possible way. Like, if you’ve ever seen any of Terry Gilliam’s other work (Time Bandits or Brazil, anyone?) you’ll know the kind of bizarre-yet-wonderful visual feast you’re in for. But instead of cheering on a dystopian paper-pusher or time-traveling oddballs, this time we’re gallivanting through the twisted fairytale universe of the famous Brothers Grimm, who are not exactly the Disneyfied storytellers we’ve grown up loving.

Matt Damon and Heath Ledger—yeah, that’s right, that Matt Damon and that Heath Ledger—play the brothers themselves, and first of all, can we just take a moment to appreciate how weird it is seeing these two handsome dudes tripping around in 19th-century Europe with fake German accents? But you know, it works. In fact, the brothers are conmen, essentially scamming villagers with supposed “exorcisms” and “witch hunts” in a sort of Scooby-Doo-esque gig. They create elaborate spooky traps, “save” helpless townspeople from their own fake ghosts, and then collect their reward. It’s all fun and games—until they encounter a small village with real freaky happenings.

Without giving too much away, I will say the plot takes a seriously trippy turn into a Tim Burton-esque forest that’s straight out of a nightmare. You’ve got a cursed mirror, an enchanted forest, possessed children, and some unpleasantly creepy “come to life” moments. In contrast to their scammy shenanigans, this reality is genuinely perilous. I actually felt bad for them—I mean, imagine being neck-deep in a horror show when you’re used to rigging fake ghosts with fishing wires. It’s like going from playing at a haunted house for kids to suddenly being plopped into The Exorcist.

Matt Damon and Heath Ledger are, without a doubt, the heart of this movie. Their chemistry is fantastic; they play off each other like seasoned comedians, and you can tell they’re having a blast. Damon’s Will is the brains of the operation, always scheming and calculating, while Ledger’s Jake is the more sensitive, imaginative one, often getting lost in the stories they create. It’s a classic dynamic, but it works so well here.

A good portion of the movie’s charm (and weirdness, honestly) stems from Gilliam’s distinctive style. Everything from the colors to the set design has his signature wacky touch. The special effects are super surreal—sometimes grotesque, other times just borderline goofy, but in a way that’s uniquely Gilliam. You know when you watch something as a kid that isn’t necessarily horror, but it still kind of unsettles you and stays in the back of your mind? Yeah, it’s like that.

Now, speaking of unsettling—Monica Bellucci as the evil Mirror Queen is just perfection. She’s not in the movie a ton, but she brings this bizarrely magnetic presence like she’s stepped right out of the darkest version of Sleeping Beauty ever.

And then you’ve got Lena Headey, best known for later playing Cersei Lannister, as Angelika—a skilled huntress who becomes entangled in the Grimm brothers’ misadventures and is someone who doesn’t fall for the boyish charms of the two brothers.

Now, let’s get to the good stuff: the plot. “The Brothers Grimm” is a visual feast, with Gilliam’s signature fantastical imagery on full display. The enchanted forest is a thing of both beauty and terror, filled with twisted trees, eerie fog, and all sorts of creepy creatures. The film seamlessly blends elements of classic fairy tales with a darker, more macabre sensibility. Think “Little Red Riding Hood” meets “Sleepy Hollow” with a dash of “The Princess Bride” thrown in for good measure. It’s a unique and imaginative concoction that’s sure to keep you on the edge of your seat.

I should also mention that the film has a surprisingly poignant message about the power of storytelling. As the Grimm brothers confront the very tales they’ve exploited, they’re forced to reckon with the consequences of their actions. It’s a reminder that stories, whether real or imagined, can have a profound impact on our lives. And that’s something we can all relate to, right?

So yeah, “The Brothers Grimm” might not be a cinematic masterpiece that won all the awards (not every film has gotta be Schindler’s List level intense, okay?), but it’s something that’d be fun to throw on a lazy Saturday. The acting is solid, albeit a bit hammy—honestly part of the charm—and the plot is wild but in a way that keeps you hooked until the very end. It’s one of those movies that balances on the line between fantasy, horror, and just straight-up dark comedy. Keep your expectations set somewhere between comedic confusion and gothic strangeness, and you’ll have a good time.

Cheers!
Roger

Did you know that you can receive a short story in your inbox every Monday if you subscribe to my newsletter? Subscribe today to begin receiving site and book news as well as your weekly story. You can do so HERE.

This post is part of my movie-a-day challenge in which I will watch a film every day for 365 days. Today is Day 303! You can see all the posts for this challenge HERE. To see the original Movie-a-Day Challenge post, click HERE.

Hey friends,

So, I just watched “Interstellar” for the very first time, and honestly, I’m still trying to wrap my head around what the heck just happened. I mean, holy crap, where do I even start with this one? Let’s just say my mind feels like it just got sucked through a black hole, and then popped out somewhere on the other side—just in time for dinner at a 5-dimensional restaurant. But seriously, Christopher Nolan, man—he’s always up to something wild, and I think he might’ve just outdone himself with this one. Space travel, wormholes, love transcending time and space—what’s not to love?

Okay, time out for a second here. Before I completely plummet into the cosmic madness that is “Interstellar,” I’ve gotta say—like, it’s insane that I’ve clocked over 300 movies in my little movie-a-day challenge. Seriously, who even am I? I’m at that point where I’m amazed (and mildly concerned) by my own stamina. When I kicked off this challenge, I didn’t think I’d stick with it. But bam—I’m cruising toward the finish line like I’m on a mission from NASA or something. Maybe I’m channeling my inner space traveler too much, but damn, I’m getting close to victory, and it’s harder to believe than a fifth dimension.

But back to the film. So, first of all, Matthew McConaughey stars in it. And dude, this guy—seriously, props to him for not just sticking to romantic comedies his whole life, because McConaughey as Cooper, the coolest astronaut-slash-farmer dad, is just too much. I know his whole “Alright, alright, alright” vibe is usually reserved for smoother settings (like a Lincoln car commercial), but he nails the role of a distraught yet determined dad who decides to leave his kids behind on a dying Earth to save the human race. I mean, that’s intense stuff in the parent department!

The plot is the kind of sci-fi that you’ll definitely want to pay attention to. At first, everything seems super bleak—we’re talking about dusty, barren lands where corn is king, and the world is running out of food pretty quickly. Everyone’s farming ’cause that’s the only way to survive. The Earth’s like, “Sorry guys, time for me to be a wasteland.” But then—TWIST—there’s a secret NASA mission to find habitable planets through a freaking wormhole near Saturn. Like, what the what?? Of course, Cooper gets roped in because one minute you’re growing corn and the next you’re piloting a spaceship through a dimension-shifting vortex. You know, just astronaut things.

Then we’ve got the supporting cast, and they’re all bringing their A-game. Anne Hathaway plays Brand, a scientist who’s all about that “love is a quantifiable force” kinda thinking. And I gotta say—even though at first, I was like, “Wait, is this character for real?” by the end, I was almost—almost—ready to start calculating gravitational pulls with the power of love myself.

Then there’s Jessica Chastain, who plays McConaughey’s grown-up daughter, Murph (yeah, I didn’t forget the name; that’s one you carry with you). She’s deeply hurt that her dad bounced on them but brilliant enough to figure out the whole gravity equation thing that’s going to save mankind.

Okay, time to talk about that scene. The one so gripping that my jaw actually dropped: The Endurance mission crew lands on that water planet that’s too close to a black hole, and they mess up the timing—by a lot. So, when they get back to the spaceship, almost 23 years have passed while they were dilly-dallying down there for only a few hours. That scene where Cooper is watching years’ worth of video messages from his kids who have grown up without him—like, grab some tissues, my friends. McConaughey’s face just says it all. It’s one of those rare moments in cinema where you feel everything the character feels, absolutely gut-wrenching.

Visually, “Interstellar” is like a work of freaking art. Nolan worked with real theoretical physicist Kip Thorne to make sure the science didn’t go too far off the rails, which apparently resulted in some of the most accurate depictions of a black hole, like ever. That means, yes—when you see that trippy light-bending, swirly vortex thing—they seriously put some effort into making sure it’s not total sci-fi nonsense.

By the end, when everything kinda folds into itself and Cooper finds himself in that crazy, trippy tesseract thing where he can communicate with young Murph through… gravity, and books? Yeah, that’s when I think my brain officially imploded. Okay, Interstellar—now you’re just showing off. But let’s be real. Even though the whole “love is the answer to saving humanity” thing nudges the line between sweet and cheesy, the rest of the movie is so darn mind-blowing that I’m willing to let it slide.

So, in the grand scheme of things, would I recommend this flick? Heck yeah. “Interstellar” is the kind of movie you don’t just watch—you survive it. One minute I’m munching on popcorn, the next I’m questioning the fabric of reality and my place in the cosmos. No big deal. If you’re into movies that leave your brain spinning while you stare at the credits wondering if you believe in gravity, then this is absolutely the film for you.

Alright, I’m gonna call it—a spatial anomaly of a movie that everyone should experience at least once in their journey across the time-space continuum.

Catch you on the flipside!
Roger

Did you know that you can receive a short story in your inbox every Monday if you subscribe to my newsletter? Subscribe today to begin receiving site and book news as well as your weekly story. You can do so HERE.

Hey friends!

This post is part of my movie-a-day challenge in which I will watch a film every day for 365 days. Today is Day 300! You can see all the posts for this challenge HERE. To see the original Movie-a-Day Challenge post, click HERE.

So, I finally got around to watching The Long Goodbye, that 1973 Robert Altman film based on a Raymond Chandler novel, which has been on my list for ages. This wasn’t my first rodeo with Philip Marlowe, but this take on the iconic detective was something else entirely. Seriously, this might be one of the most out-there takes on a Marlowe story you could ever imagine. I mean, forget Humphrey Bogart’s Marlowe—the one who could out-stare a brick wall—‘cause Elliott Gould’s Marlowe feels more like the guy who’d challenge that brick wall to a friendly poker game and expect it not to cheat.

First off, let me tell you, we’re not in the gritty 1940s anymore, Toto. This is a hard-boiled detective story that somehow got drenched in all that 70s LA sunshine, then wrapped itself up in one of those ultra-chill, laid-back attitudes. And did I say ultra-chill? Our boy Marlowe, played by Gould, seems permanently encased in this cloud of unapologetic “whatever, man” energy. Seriously, I half-expected him to start wearing tie-dye or throw up a peace sign between lines.

The plot itself is a winding labyrinth of double-crosses and hidden motives. So, plot-wise: Marlowe’s just trying to buy some cat food at 3 AM—classic detective move, am I right?—when his buddy Terry Lennox (played by Jim Bouton, who was an actual baseball pitcher—yeah, a random fact for you, because sports and film crossover is a thing, apparently) drops by needing a fast exit to Mexico. Marlowe helps him out, of course, ‘cause bro-code and all. But wouldn’t you know it, Lennox gets pegged for his wife’s murder soon after, and things start to get delightfully messy. Marlowe finds himself caught in a web of intrigue that stretches from the sun-drenched beaches of Malibu to the shadowy underworld of Los Angeles.

Now, if you’ve read the Chandler novel, you’ll know Marlowe as that hard-nosed guy who plays by his own rulebook in a world that’s just plain dirty. But here, in Altman’s universe, Gould’s Marlowe doesn’t feel like he’s playing by anyone’s rules—or, honestly, like he’s playing at all! He just sort of drifts through the movie in that crumpled suit, mumbling to himself and chain-smoking like cigarettes are his life source. It’s almost like he’s monk-level committed to chaos while being, bizarrely, the most level-headed guy in the room. Logic? Not here. Vibes? Plenty of those.

And the cast? Oh boy, let’s talk about Sterling Hayden, who plays Roger Wade, the raging Hemingway-ish writer character. Hayden’s gruff, boozy energy is like this wild bear—you never know if he’s going to tell you a life-changing secret or just tear the place apart. And then there’s Nina Van Pallandt as Eileen Wade, the femme fatale dripping with mystery and making you think, “Oh, she definitely knows more than she’s saying.” But, like, in that soft-spoken, “please ignore the iceberg below the waterline” style.

And shoutout to Henry Gibson as Dr. Verringer—this short, little dude with a disarmingly calm and creepy air that just sidles right up to you, gripping onto the tension while everyone else is trying to keep their grip on the reality that, I’m 95% sure, unraveled before this movie even started. That’s another thing, the whole film feels like you wandered into a party already in full swing. You’re not quite sure what everyone’s vibe is, but ya stick around, grab a drink, and soon realize you’re in deeper than you bargained for.

Altman’s direction is masterful, creating a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere that perfectly complements the film’s noir sensibilities. The cinematography is stunning, with long, lingering shots that capture the beauty and the grime of 1970s Los Angeles.

What struck me most about “The Long Goodbye” was its unconventional approach to the mystery genre. It’s less about solving a puzzle and more about navigating a morally ambiguous world where everyone seems to be hiding something. The film’s pacing is deliberately slow, allowing us to soak in the atmosphere and get to know the quirky characters who populate Marlowe’s world.

By the time you get to the end, you’ll be soaked, confused, and just a little in awe of how much this movie, miraculously, doesn’t care if you understood it or not. It’s a detective flick that swindles you with its oddball humor, then slaps you in the face with its unexpected darkness, almost as if it was daring you to take the genre seriously in the first place.

I’ll admit that the ending is a real head-scratcher, leaving you with more questions than answers. But that’s part of the film’s charm. It doesn’t tie everything up in a neat little bow, instead inviting you to ponder the complexities of the characters and their motivations long after the credits roll.

“The Long Goodbye” might not be everyone’s cup of tea. It’s slow-paced, unconventional, and leaves a lot open to interpretation. But if you’re in the mood for a thought-provoking mystery that challenges the genre’s conventions, this film is definitely worth checking out. It’s sure to leave a lasting impression.

Would I recommend it? Oh, absolutely. It’s a cinematic trip where the destination may not matter as much as the weird, twisty road. Come for the existential dread, stay for the half-naked yoga instructors that live in the apartment next to Marlowe. Trust me, this one’s worth the watch, if only to say you’ve seen Gould’s effortless cool in action. And if Altman teaches us anything with this, it’s maybe that “goodbye” doesn’t always mean the end—it’s just the start of something much weirder.

Cheers!
Roger

Did you know that you can receive a short story in your inbox every Monday if you subscribe to my newsletter? Subscribe today to begin receiving site and book news as well as your weekly story. You can do so HERE.