One look at the title, “I Still Believe,” and you know this story about a musician and his devotion to healing his young wife is a faith-based (and in America that means Christian) movie. I used to despise these things. There’s currently a ridiculously lopsided skew of Rotten Tomatoes critics against this movie, versus the general public who are overwhelmingly for it. I’ve changed my mind about faith-based movies. Wanna hear why? I’ll talk about why later.
Ben Affleck stars in a movie about a man with a drinking problem, who’s lost the love of his life as well as their only child. It’s well-played because it’s been lived, and is a fine example of those we go spend money on in movie theaters courageously putting their hard-earned, art-imitates-life life lessons onscreen for us to learn from.
Here’s a hilarious little movie starring Zoey Deutch that makes itself quite useful as a whistleblower on the state of America’s debt-collecting infestation. Why would that topic be funny? Remember “Back to the Future’s” Marty McFly, played by Michael J. Fox? Remember his mom, Lorraine, played by Lea Thompson, and how funny she was? Well, it was only a matter of time before Lea Thompson’s actual kid, Zoey Deutch, broke away from the young Hollywood ingénue pack, and though she’s got model looks—guess what her acting power alley is? That’s right—she’s a comedienne par excellence, just like mom.
“The Rhythm Section” is the next step in the ongoing deconstruction and general grunge-ification of the debonair, Roger Moore-type James Bond spy movie. The first wave of this grunging-up began with the Jason Bourne franchise. In the same way that “Alien” updated spaceship stories by smearing grime and print marks on the previously shiny equipment, making keyboards grubby and such, so also did Jason Bourne nitty-grit-ify the tuxedo-wearing Bond-ness of the spy genre. It exchanged sleek, Walther PPK handguns and suave, witty quips for vicious, Krav Maga-based street fighting. Which, in turn, cross-pollinated by blowing back on the current Bond incarnations—Daniel Craig’s grittier, grungier Bond should really be named Jason Bond.