Red One, on Prime Video

According to scientists, polar bears really belong at the top of the planetary food chain, because so many of them have a taste for eating people. Therefore, a big talking polar bear like Agent Garcia ought to provide all the protection Santa Claus needs. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson is also considered fairly formidable for a mere mortal. Yet, somehow the bad guys still kidnap Santa while both ELF (Enforcement, Logistics, and Fortification) Agents were on the job. Even though he is only human, Johnson’s Callum Drift won’t take this threat to Christmas laying down, so he decides to flip the clueless hacker who helped facilitate the crisis in Jake Kasdan’s Red One, which starts streaming today on Prime Video.

Agent Drift intends to retire after this Christmas, so you know what that always means: trouble. Masked mercs abduct Santa spiriting him away through a hole in the North Pole security system. Of course, a blame-America-first leftist like Tulsi Gabbard would say Santa was asking for it, because of his security arrangement with NATO. Regardless, it took some serious computing power to detect the secret location of Santa’s workshop, but Bah-humbugging black-hat and self-described bounty-hunter Jack O’Malley inadvertently supplied the necessary data by hacking national science networks.

To avoid further beatings from Drift, O’Malley agrees to work with ELF to follow the trail of his anonymous client, who turns out to Gryla, the Icelandic winter witch. As a former associate of Santa’s adopted brother Krampus, she always believed Santa was too lenient on the “naughty-listers,” like O’Malley. By stealing Santa’s powers, she intends to finally deal out the punishment she believes they richly deserve.

Chris Morgan’s screenplay cleverly incorporates a lot of slightly macabre Christmas lore, including Gryla and Krampus. However, Kiernan Shipka’s portrayal of the Christmas witch and the special effects surrounding her are consistently overshadowed by the more colorful characters. That definitely includes Kristofer Hivju’s imposing Krampus, who is more grouch than demon.

In truth, nobody is more colorful than J.K. Simmons, who looks quite fit—and even downright cut—as old kris. Frankly, he makes cookies and milk look a better muscle building supplement than any GNC powder. As usual, Simmons can land a sharp one-liner, but his sarcasm is gentler this time around—because he is Santa. He also develops great chemistry with Bonnie Hunt, who really should have had more screentime as Mrs. Claus.

Of course, the Rock does his thing, which includes milking Drift’s humorlessness for humor. Basically, Johnson acts like the film is titled The Fast and the Jolly, which should be totally fine with his fans. It is also nice to see Lucy Liu get to kick some butt to as Zoe Harlow, the chief of the clandestine MORA (Mythological Oversight and Restoration Authority) agency. However, Chris Evans’ portrayal of O’Malley, the hacker and jerkweed absentee father, needed more charm and less smugness.

The Man with the Iron Fists: Kung Fu Hip Hop from RZA

Thaddeus the Blacksmith is a builder not a fighter.  Nonetheless, the Lion Clan is messing with the wrong tradesman when they chop off his arms.  Yes, it is time to rumble in Nineteenth Century China.  Kung fu, Hip Hop, spaghetti westerns, and blaxploitation will be mashed-up in the RZA’s The Man with the Iron Fists (trailer here), which really did open this week in New York—honest it did.

The Lions were not always so bad.  That was before the Emperor sought their services to help secure his shipment of gold.  Succumbing to greed, Silver Lion and Bronze Lion betray their respected clan leader Gold Lion, with the intention of hijacking the imperial gold.  Of course, they will have to take care of one loose end: Gold Lion’s son, Zen Yi, who has left his mountain retreat and lovely wife for some old school revenge.  Unfortunately, he is no match for Brass Body, the Kung Fu equivalent of the X-Men’s Colossus.

Stripped of his armor, Zen Yi is rescued from certain death by the Blacksmith and his lover, Lady Silk, one of the “employees” of Madame Blossom’s house of pleasure.  Troubled by the death and destruction wrought by his handiwork, the Blacksmith throws his lot in with Zen Yi.  Needless to say, this leads to a rather nasty encounter with Silver Lion, Brass Body, and a very sharp blade.  Yet, as the title indicates, he still knows his way around a forge.  He also has an unlikely ally in Jack Knife, the opium addicted British ex-pat serving as the Emperor’s secret emissary.

If you’re looking for Oscar bait, Iron Fists probably isn’t your cup of tea.  Not exactly subtle or refined filmmaking, the RZA basically just lets the chaos fly.  He “borrows” liberally from scores of previous martial arts films, even including Enter the Dragon’s oft imitated finale.  Still, its energy is admirable.  Corey Yuen’s fight choreography is consistently inventive and there is plenty of eye candy.  In fact, the large supporting cast brings all kinds of genre credibility, starting with the Cung Le, sporting the Yahoo Serious coif as Bronze Lion.  On-the-brink-of-stardom Grace Huang (so cool in the short film Bloodtraffick) also kicks butt convincingly as part of the duo known as the Gemini Killers.

Probably the biggest surprise of Iron Fists is Russell Crowe’s rip-roaring scenery-chewing portrayal of Jack Knife.  He obviously understood what sort of film he was making and was willing to just go with it.  As Madame Blossom, Lucy Liu essentially reprises her turn from Kill Bill, but that is not necessarily a bad thing.  Frankly, the RZA isn’t terrible as the Blacksmith, brooding well enough.  The villains are more of a mixed bag though.  Former wrestler David Bautista certainly looks the part of Brass Body, but Byron Mann’s Silver Lion is more flamboyant than menacing.

Look, what do you want from a Kung Fu smackdown directed by a rapper, even if it is “executive produced” by Quentin Tarantino?  It might be chocked full of genre clichés and clumsy flashbacks, but if the prospect of watching RZA beat the Lion Clan silly while Crowe cavorts with a bevy of Asian prostitutes strikes you as entertaining than Iron Fists totally delivers the goods.  Let’s call it a guilty pleasure and leave it at that.  It really is currently playing in New York, above 34^th Street, at the Regal E-Walk.

Detachment: Adrien Brody Looks Sad

Do not blame teachers for their students’ behavioral problems. The fault lies with irresponsible parents argues the latest Blackboard Jungly social issue drama. Yet perhaps some kids are just soulless punks, who need a sub like Tom Berenger in the unabashedly politically incorrect The Substitute. What they get instead is Adrien Brody in Tony Kaye’s Detachment (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Henry Barthes is the long reliever of substitute teachers. He can come in for an extended stretch and then leave with no emotional attachments holding him back. He is not a terrible guy. In fact, he seems to care about his addled grandfather’s well being. At least he is interested enough to bully the nursing staff whenever he feels necessary. However, his students are another matter entirely, particularly at his new school.

All his fellow faculty members feel downtrodden and the cynical board is scapegoating the principal. Yet, somehow Barthes makes an impression on students by keeping his cool, except of course, when he talks about “No Child Left Behind.”

Detachment is an overstuffed traffic jam of a movie, but some of the conflicting parts are quite good. Every member of the all-star ensemble gets their solo spotlight and most of them nail it. It sounds highly unlikely, but James Caan and Lucy Liu have a particularly moving moment of consolation together.

Frankly, Detachment might have worked better as a theater piece, stitching together dramatic monologues. Structurally, it is better suited to such an approach, using sociological interviews with Barthes as the narrative framing device. There are also twee hipster graphical transitions that rather clash with the gritty vibe Kaye is otherwise going for.

Barthes’ story is sort of all over the place too. He gradually reveals some dark family history fairly deftly, but a major subplot is bit much to swallow. For murkily defined reasons, Barthes invites a teenaged junkie prostitute to crash in his apartment, but not his bed, giving her free access to the place, with no adverse consequences. Right, maybe he should leave his bank card and PIN number with her, just for emergencies.

We understand Kaye likes teachers. That is all well and good. However, his diatribes against NCLB are a bit off point. The purpose of the tests Barthes inveighs against is simply to gauge teacher performance with respect to their students’ proficiencies. The terrible pressure to perform on said tests comes solely from the teachers trying to save their bacon.

Without question, Barthes is the sort of sad sack character Brody was born to play. Indeed, his morose screen persona works well in this context. Nearly everyone has memorable moments in the film, but they are often not given adequate space to breath. Strangely too cute around the margins, Detachment earns a fair measure of respect, but never really pulls it all together. It opens this Friday (3/16) in New York at the Village East.