Year: 2018

Cubic zirconia can look like diamonds from a distance.

It’s when you look closely that the flaws are exposed and it becomes apparent that it’s not a genuine diamond.

Ironically, swapping zirconia for diamonds is the major catalyst of “Ocean’s Eight,” a female-led heist spinoff of the classic “Ocean’s Eleven” trilogy that tries, and largely fails, to pass for the real thing.

Debbie Ocean has spent the past five years in prison planning the perfect score, following in her brother Danny’s footsteps. Upon her release, Debbie and partner-in-crime Lou begin rounding up a team of unlikely villainesses to snag a priceless diamond necklace off an unsuspecting actress during the illustrious Met Gala in New York City.

Headlining the film as ringleader Debbie, Sandra Bullock is up to her usual tricks, providing the necessary charm to pull audiences through increasingly implausible scenarios without battling an eye. Her natural ability to draw viewers provides a solid foundation upon which to build a solid ensemble and yet her performance seems very businesslike for much of the feature.

It’s only in the opening moments while Debbie goes on a five-finger shopping spree – sadly, the film’s best scene — and at the very end that it looks like Bullock is having any fun.

Cate Blanchett’s Lou, in many ways intended to be the feminine counterpart to Brad Pitt’s casually cool Rusty from the trilogy, attempts to bring a similarly effortless swag. Her work hits with a varying degree of success throughout the film, though sadly Blanchett brings more charisma outside of scenes opposite Bullock.

There’s a concerted, yet subtle undertone of unresolved, undeveloped sexual tension between Lou and Debbie, which would work much better in the overall scheme of the film if it paid off in any significant way.

Academy Award winner Anne Hathaway steals the show, however, as high-strung A-lister Daphne Kluger, the patsy in Debbie’s grand scheme. From start to finish, Hathaway is a breath of fresh air on screen as it’s clear she enjoys going against type as egotistical fashionista.

The men of “Ocean’s Eight” relatively take the role of simple window dressing with Richard Armitage poorly filling the shoes of the movie’s requisite villain. “Ocean’s Eight” probably would have been better served by casting someone with a higher profile or at least an actor whose off-screen persona would have been ripe for providing the character background nearly every performer lacks in the final product.

Boiling every member of the gang to a simple gimmick doesn’t really help things either. Performances are going to feel flat when describing characters is as simple as Rihanna’s computer hacker who loves to smoke weed or Mindy Kaling’s jewel expert who wants to get out of her mother’s house.

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to place an all-female heist flick in the hands of the guy who made “Seabiscuit.” The haphazard pacing, lack of character development and uneven tone of director Gary Ross’s feature belie a man seemingly ill-equipped to produce anything beyond pedestrian work.

This appears most blatantly in the timid, “paint by numbers” screenplay he co-wrote with Olivia Milch, a script that follows Steven Soderbergh’s “Ocean’s Eleven” so closely that scenes are shamelessly lifted from the 2001 film and repackaged as caricature. It’s easiest to spot in the opening moments of the film as Bullock’s Debbie talks her way out of prison on parole in identical fashion to George Clooney’s Danny, without the requisite flair and panache.
Nothing feels new or original in “Ocean’s Eight,” just pickpocketed from the Soderbergh trilogy or any number of heist movies.

Though the 2001 classic didn’t exactly re-invent the wheel – itself being a reboot of the 1960s Frank Sinatra film of the same name – “Ocean’s Eleven” felt fresh because of Soderbergh’s directorial vision, crafty shot selection and flawless casting. If there is a style to “Ocean’s Eight,” it’s in this celebration of high fashion that litters the film’s plot, costuming and cinematography.

“Ocean’s Eight” is fan fiction if anything else.

That being said, it’s an incredibly easy watch because there aren’t really any stakes enough. Sequences in the film feel enjoyable in the moment, but almost as easily forgettable. The talents of Bullock, Hathaway and company are readily on display as are a glittering array of fashion icons and other celebrity cameos.

At a basic level, “Ocean’s Eight” delivers on being a whole lot of no-frills fun. While it doesn’t quite hit the mark of the original trilogy or last year’s southern heist romp “Logan Lucky,” most audiences will probably leave the theaters satisfied, or at least not feel robbed, by Bullock and company.

Tami Oldham and Richard Sharp’s story would feel like a tale ripped from the script of a 90s made-for-tv disaster flick, if it wasn’t so bizarrely true.

The couple’s head on collision with a Category 5 hurricane in the early 1980s is brought to life by Icelandic director Baltasar Kormakur, returning to the world of survival films after 2016’s “Everest.”

At first glance, “Adrift” should be a relatively paint-by-numbers biopic, but creative storytelling and a truly remarkable performance from Shailene Woodley gives the film a much richer tone in the vein of Jean-Marc Vallee’s 2014 film “Wild.”

Woodley stars as free-spirited nomad Tami, sailing into port in Tahiti with nothing in particular to do when she becomes infatuated by the equally cavalier Brit, Richard, played by Sam Claflin. Their quick romance leads to a yacht trip across the Pacific and into the eye of Hurricane Raymond.

Woodley delivers a knockout performance with a relentless effort to match Tami’s during the ordeal. The talented young actress displays a wide array of emotions as a woman frayed by physical and mental turmoil, stranded at sea thousands of miles from land.

There’s a deliberate precision to her performance as Woodley embodies Tami’s will to survive in a way that feels authentic and not caricature. Scenes with her alone on a broken-down yacht are perhaps the most engaging, astounding of the entire film.

Claflin, on the other hand, plays Richard with a much looser grip, which comes across as an actor phoning in a performance from time to time. In a two-handed like “Adrift,” both leading performances have to be equally strong for one not to stick out like a sore thumb. Woodley gives it her all from the opening moments to the final frame while Claflin appears to mentally check in and out of the film. It just feels off.

Unsurprisingly, scenes outside the boat are pleasantly enjoyable to watch in the moment and yet almost instantaneously forgettable after leaving the theater. If audiences are to connect with Tami and Richard as a couple, empathizing with their plight is key as their rushed romance does little to pull viewers in.

While Woodley puts in concerted effort to their chemistry, Claflin’s casual, almost laxidasical approach to the character makes buying into the duo as a couple next to impossible.

Imperfect, casual romances seem to be a recurring theme in Kormakur’s films as “Adrift” finds itself plagued with a similarly unbalanced relationship to those in his previous disaster film “Everest,” where the women in the hikers’ lives took even more of a backseat than Claflin does here.

Stories of survival told on the big screen typically have a clinical almost formulaic approach, where audiences have the foreknowledge of knowing things are going to get bad in a hurry long before the characters do.

Kormakur and the team of writers behind the film’s screenplay attempt to subvert this traditional narrative by thrusting viewers right into the middle of the action in the opening seconds. Then in a style heavily influenced by the work of British auteur Christopher Nolan, the film’s timeline becomes muddled as “Adrift” hops back and forth between the before, during and aftermath of the hurricane.

The intent is clear. Audiences are expected to engage with “Adrift” quickly ala traditional action movies before pulling back and allowing the story to unfold and the connection between filmmaker and audience to become deeper.

The result, however, is more of a mixed bag. Occasionally, the time jumping works and events unfolding on the yacht are better explained and contextualized through flashback sequences.

More often than not, the herky-jerky of the film’s editing leaves audiences emotionally seasick as “Adrift” wanders back and forth through time far too often.

When events are unfolding on the yacht, “Adrift” rides the line between good and great filmmaking thanks in large part to Woodley’s outstanding performance and the expert cinematography of Robert Richardson, who vividly captures the depth and scale of a lonely Pacific Ocean in both mild and chaotic conditions.

While events are based on a true story, it’s important for audiences not to spoil themselves before heading to the theater. Viewers willing to let things play out on screen will surely be rewarded.

Those intrigued by the overarching premise of the film or fans of Woodley’s increasingly special body of work outside the “Divergent” franchise should take a chance and get lost with “Adrift.”

“Solo” is a film on an island.

As much as the tag line “A Star Wars Story” entices audiences to imagine what hijinks a young Harrison Ford might have gotten into, what appears on screen is yet another completely average origin story reminiscent of a Marvel movie.

Sure, there are plenty of familiar faces and the Millennial Falcon soars through space, but a bonafide, genuine “Star Wars” movie this is not.

“Solo” waffles between action-adventure, heist flick, war epic and western seemingly at random, none of which have the space opera cinematic style audiences have come to expect from “A Star Wars Story.”

This latest adventure finds a young Han Solo on the run from smugglers and deserting the Empire’s army to team with fan favorites Chewbacca and Lando Calrissian on a heist for a rare fuel supply.

Cast with the near impossible task of filling Harrison Ford’s shoes, “Hail, Caesar!” star Alden Ehrenreich flashes signs of potential as Han, though it’s easy to long for another actor with a tad bit more swagger and charisma.

Ehrenreich isn’t bad in the role, but there’s nothing in his performance that captivates or draws audiences in like a true titular character should.

Scrutinizing Ehrenreich for being less than ideal for the part is difficult, yet understandable when both Chris Pine and Chris Pratt are giving superior performances with essentially Han Solo caricatures in the “Star Trek” and “Guardians of the Galaxy” franchises respectively.

“Game of Thrones” star Emilia Clarke also gives a solid, yet limited effort as Solo’s love interest Qi’ra, but for as rocksteady as her performance might be, it still feels as if Clarke is holding something back for future films.

Both Ehrenreich and Clarke are signed on for at least two more “Star Wars” appearances and their character arcs reflect the slow development multiple film projects implies.

If Ehrenreich represents a single or perhaps even a double as Han Solo, then “Atlanta” star Donald Glover is nothing short of an absolute home run in a riveting performance as Lando Calrissian.

Glover takes the role made famous by Billy Dee Williams in the original trilogy and embodies every slight grin, eye twinkle and sexual charisma down to the core.

His cadence, affect and accent are so on point for most of the film that it’s difficult to not imagine the lines are being dubbed over by Williams himself.

It’s readily apparent that Glover, who idolized Williams’ Calrissian as a child, took every care to be as precise as possible to embody the original character while simultaneously giving added depth.

Glover’s performance is the most believable and authentic in the film by an incredibly wide margin and it’s without question that a spinoff movie with Glover at the lead is a matter of when and not if it happens.

Woody Harrelson is up to his usual tricks in a steady, albeit take-it-or-leave-it turn as Solo’s mentor Tobias Beckett and Paul Bettany is fine as the film’s requisite villain Dryden Vos.

But from top to bottom, there’s a general unevenness to “Solo” that the film just can’t seem to get away from.

This is likely due to the significant disconnect in the direction with veteran actor/director Ron Howard taking the helm from “The Lego Movie” filmmakers Phil Lord and Christopher Miller, who were fired halfway through making the film.

The directors are inextricably linked with “Solo” constantly feeling tugged one way or another like a child with divorcing parents amid a custody battle.

No matter how great Glover is in the film or how gorgeous a particular shot from Oscar nominated cinematographer Bradford Young is, there’s a profound tension and unease to the whole film grounded in the first 30 minutes that never really goes away.

Disney has backed the Star Wars franchise into a corner, sacrificing must see spectacle for increased frequency in a quantity over quality quest for cash Mel Brooks foretold in his satirical, yet prescient “Spaceballs.”

As such, “Solo” feels more like a placeholder for a better movie yet to come or certainly at least one that makes better use of the new characters introduced and iconic ones slogging through yet another space heist film.

It’s okay if a movie opts for storytelling over character development, but only if the plot truly deserves it.

“Solo” has a large scale episodic television feel to it, which would work in any other franchise but “Star Wars.”

Forty-plus years of cinema have built the expectation that films branded with a “Star Wars” tag are supposed to feel epic and iconic. “Solo” is neither.

It’s too early to tell whether or not “Solo” is redeemable because there are far too many questions about where the inevitable future films are headed. How Disney moves forward with young Han, Chewbacca, and to a certain extent, Lando will redefine whether or not this “Star Wars Story” is a means to a satisfying end or simply unfulfilled potential.

At the end of the day, “Solo” is a pretty good, completely fine movie. Not bad, not great, just watchable.

That just doesn’t feel like “Star Wars,” does it?

Scroll too quickly through Netflix and you’ll surely miss “Kodachrome,” a feature that at first glance sounds like a benign documentary miniseries about dated photography techniques.
But take the time to actually sit down and watch director Mark Raso’s sophomore feature film and you may be struck by how poignant and bittersweet it truly is.

The story is far from unique.

An estranged father and son are forced together by circumstance and impending death, traveling across the country in search of the last store still developing Kodachrome film.

How Raso and his cast tell this all-too-familiar tale is a different story altogether.

Four-time Academy Award nominee Ed Harris delivers an emotionally-charged performance as Benjamin Ryder, a world-class photojournalist with little time left.

While lesser actors would chew through the scenery by playing Ben as an unredeemable aging narcissist, Harris provides needed depth to the role, infusing the character it’s the sort of clarity only death can provide.

There isn’t any one singular aspect to Harris’ performance that defines this shift. Instead slowly over time, Harris reveals to the audience a changed man and it turn that may come to
define the later stages of his illustrious career.

Paired against Harris, the hit-and-miss “Saturday Night Live” funnyman Jason Sudeikis shows unexpected dramatic range as Ben’s son Matt. Though audiences follow Matt through the film as the primary protagonist, Sudeikis calmly takes a backseat often in major moments, allowing other actors to shine.

His natural disarming charm and ease at playing the anti-hero allow Sudeikis to become wonderfully dislikeable and yet somehow redeemable at the same time. It’s a performance that shouldn’t work as well as it does.

Elizabeth Olsen continues a string of rock solid secondary lead work with a deliberate, headstrong turn as Ben’s nurse and personal assistant Zooey. Olsen does wonders with a woefully under written part whose back story feels shoehorned in at the last minute.

The character actress more than holds her own in scenes opposite Harris and regularly outshines Sudeikis, but not at the expense of either performance.

“Kodachrome” rounds out its main cast with terrific supporting efforts from Dennis Haysbert as Ben’s long-time manager and Bruce Greenwood as Ben’s younger brother and stand-in father figure for Matt.

On a surface level, no potential audience under the age of 30 is likely to actively seek out “Kodachrome,” regardless of how easy it is to view.

This makes Raso’s film an especially curious choice for a Netflix original film, where 100 percent of moviegoers will watch the movie on a cellular device or in the privacy of their own home.

It also significantly undercuts Raso’s deliberate decision to shoot “Kodachrome” entirely in 35mm Kodak film. Just as Ben laments in the feature, digital translation of the picture loses a lot of the film’s authenticity and texture never to be recovered.

Only the few audiences lucky enough to have caught the movie at the 2017 Toronto International Film Festival will get to experience the film as it’s meant to be seen.

Raso overcomes a flawed script littered with frequently overused cliches by leaning on the talents of his cast and focusing each frame as if it were a photograph Ben took, a snapshot in his mind.

Keeping this thought in mind for a second viewing enhances both the depth and quality of the film.

“Kodachrome” would face an upward battle come awards season even with studio backing, but it appears Netflix has little interest in giving the indie upstart any push or promotion.

Casual Netflix viewers will already have to dig through piles of pedestrian cinema and the majority of Adam Sandler’s increasingly bland filmography to find “Kodachrome.”

Audiences willing to be aggressive with their search function will be highly rewarded with an emotional, resonating dramedy that harkens back to an era of filmmaking that’s harder to find by the minute.

Football has “Rudy” and “Remember the Titans.” Baseball has “Pride of the Yankees” and “Field of Dreams.” Even hockey has “Slapshot.”

Now the sport of tennis has its first truly great film with “Borg vs. McEnroe.”

Following the events that led up to and through their infamous match at Wimbledon in 1980, “Borg vs. McEnroe” is a cerebral, dynamic drama that closely examines the inner psychology of elite athletes.

Helmed by Danish director Janus Metz, the film finds Swedish tennis superstar Björn Borg on the cusp of his fifth consecutive Wimbledon title only to clash with a brash twenty-one-year-old New York prodigy in John McEnroe.

Metz and screenwriter Ronnie Sandahl go to great lengths highlighting the stark contrast between the two players. Borg defends from the back line while McEnroe aggressively bullies his way to the net. Borg plays with a robotic like precision whereas McEnroe’s frenzied passion rifles through every shot.

There’s a natural symmetry to the characters that extends through the performances into the script and especially in the dynamic cinematography from Niels Thastum.

As Borg, Swedish actor Sverrir Gudnason embodies the cerebral while not so subtly hinting at an inner turmoil holding the star player back. It’s easy to see the years of training Borg endured from a young boy weathered into Gudnason’s stoic face and the Swede does a remarkable job of balancing Borg’s fragile emotional state.

In a perfect collision of actor and role, the consistently controversial Shia LaBeouf emotionally pummels his way through a scene chewing performance as McEnroe. For a turn that’s filled with bravado and unrelenting machismo, the part also represents LeBeouf’s most nuanced, entrancing performance to date.

As much as LeBeouf as McEnroe could easily become a train wreck, it somehow doesn’t. LeBeouf tries so hard to become the perfect McEnroe that it ironically feels effortless, a surprisingly astounding display of acting audiences have longed for from the beleaguered young star but never thought we’d get.

The perennially solid character actor Stellan Skarsgård doesn’t disappoint as Borg’s longtime mentor and coach Lennart Bergelin and Tuva Novotny fares well as Borg’s devoted fiancee Mariana.

Metz dives into his directorial debut in narrative features with gusto, delivering a deliberate, yet moderately paced drama that occasionally grinds its gears. While the filmmaker succeeds at letting audience is in behind the scenes with both Borg and McEnroe, the movie enters childhood flashback sequences once or twice too often in a way that might jostle casual viewers.

On a technical level, “Borg vs. McEnroe” dazzles with cinematic excellence. There’s a pronounced linear quality to both shot selection and framing that gives the entire film a very measured feel.

When it comes to the actual tennis on screen, Metz and Thastum bring added life to what could be portrayed as a particularly monotone sport. Each point played out in the film possesses a dance like quality, replicating real events down to a single foot step and backhand. Tennis is rarely as tense as the iconic match the film seeks to recreate, and “Borg vs. McEnroe” convincingly maximizes the action and intrigue.

Unfortunately, the decision to release the film early in the year usually in theaters and on-demand will prove to make this terrific genre film both a box office and awards season casualty.

LeBeouf’s work as McEnroe is significantly better then Steve Carell’s similar turn in a Golden Globe nominated performance as Bobby Riggs in last year’s “Battle of the Sexes.” For as much as he may deserve acclaim, the lack of eyeballs on foreign independent film and LeBeouf’s personal struggles will prove to make “Borg vs. McEnroe” invisible this fall.

One of the better sports films in years, “Borg vs. McEnroe” is certainly worthy of more eyeballs than it will ultimately get it and is well worth seeking out in theaters or streaming on demand at home.

Wes Anderson stumbled across the idea for his new Japanese-inspired animated film while working on a movie in London.

While driving across town, the Texan writer/director went past the turn for the Isle of Dogs, a vintage location where a 16th century king housed his hunting animals.

In true Anderson fashion, he transformed this Victorian concept into a modern Asian allegory that has the cinematic heart of a classic children’s film and the gripping plot of heavy adult drama.

“Isle of Dogs” describes exactly what one thinks it might, a trash junkyard island where all the canines of Megasaki City have been banished by decree after a massive dog flu outbreak.

A pack of once domesticated dogs — Chief, Duke, Rex, Boss and King — stumble upon a young boy in search of his missing dog Spots while the Mayor of Megasaki City plots to get rid of the canines once and for all.

Meant as a not-so-subtle allegory for immigration issues, “Isle of Dogs” keeps the rhetoric largely in check while still making Anderson’s thoughts on the matter convincingly clear.

Anderson makes the wonderful decision to place audiences in the paws (as it were) of the titular dogs, allowing viewers to understand them in plain English while the Japanese citizens speak in their native tongue.

Seems are deliberately written in such a way that the foreign dialogue can be easily be understood, whether through context clues or deliberate translation.

Voice acting is key to the success of the film’s satirical, quip heavy screenplay with Anderson leaning heavily on frequent collaborators like Bill Murray, Edward Norton and Jeff Goldblum in the film’s snappy pace and keep audiences rolling in their seats.

First time Anderson actors Bryan Cranston, Greta Gerwig, Scarlett Johansson and Courtney B. Vance round out the talented, pitch perfect supporting cast.

Just as impressive is the technical wizardry performed by Anderson’s illustrious team of puppeteers, animators and designers, who intricately frame each individual movement, twitch and line of dialogue claymation cast of hundreds.

Taken all together, “Isle of Dogs” impresses with a visually quirky wonder. But upon closer examination, the intricate detail to the blink of an eye or a wag of the tail sets “Isle of Dogs” apart from middling animated fodder.

There’s so much to see within every moment of “Isle of Dogs” that a second viewing may be required to simply revel in the film’s simple beauty.

Details in texture and composition will go easily overlooked for first-time audiences as they focus more on the story at hand then what actually appears on screen.

Without question, “Isle of Dogs” sets the bar for animated features in 2018 and is almost assuredly a lock in that Oscar category early next year. This would match the universal acclaim for Anderson’s 2009 film “The Fantastic Mr. Fox,” which lost a close Academy Awards race to “Up.”

Additionally, it would be unsurprising if a Best Original Score nomination loomed for the melodically hypnotizing work of Alexandre Desplat, fresh off of a win this year for “The Shape of Water.”

“Isle of Dogs” probably isn’t best for younger audiences as the film’s highbrow humor and allegorical storyline will likely prove too heavy for children under 12.

However, fans of Anderson’s other work or smart, sophisticated comedy will find “Isle of Dogs” a refreshingly off-kilter, change of pace feature worth seeking out at the theaters.

Two life changing events happened on a seemingly innocuous weekend in July 1969.

Everyone knows the latter, Neil Armstrong’s groundbreaking the moon as part of the Apollo 11 mission soon to be depicted in Damien Chazelle’s biopic “First Man.”

What happened late one night 18 hours earlier is less clear as a car crash into a pond along the Eastern seaboard killed the presidential hopes of a famous Senator and took the life of one of his aides.

Director John Curran’s “Chappaquiddick” examines this fateful accident and Ted Kennedy’s attempt to salvage his political future over the course of a weekend while the world looked to the skies.

Australian actor Jason Clarke is convincingly all-American as the brazenly confident, yet somber Kennedy, still dealing with the recent death of his brother Bobby. His wandering melancholy early in the film flips on its head after the accident as Clarke decisively takes Kennedy into crisis management mode.

There’s an aggressive decisiveness that’s chillingly calm and unflinching in Clarke’s performance, leaving audiences to question the motivations of every decision and if Kennedy feels genuine remorse.

While “Chappaquiddick” tries to remain balanced and not imply answers to unanswerable questions, the film certainly doesn’t do Kennedy any favors.

His father Joseph also comes out worse for the wear in a striking, nuanced performance from Oscar nominee Bruce Dern. Confined to a wheelchair for the waining moments of his life, Dern’s elder Kennedy is a cold, calculated retired politician who wields an iron fist with a simple glare or disapproving nod.

The physicality (or lack thereof) Dern displays in demonstrating Kennedy’s aphasia following a stroke is stirring and convincing, matching Dern’s best work as an aging man in 2013’s “Nebraska.”

“Chappaquiddick” is aided by a talented, yet unassuming supporting cast including Kate Mara as the late Kennedy staffer Mary Jo Kopeckne, Jim Gaffigan as right hand “yes man” Markham and a superbly nuanced turn from funnyman Ed Helms as Kennedy’s cousin Joseph Gargan, a family fixer who surprisingly becomes the moral compass of the film.

There’s a lot to be surmised about what happened on that night in 1969.

Though screenwriters Taylor Allen and Andrew Logan take some liberties with conversations between Kennedy and Kopeckne, nothing about “Chappaquiddick” feels forced or disjointed.

Even the film’s early climactic moment with Kopeckne in the car has a plausible practicality that feels dramatically genuine, even if that wasn’t how events unfolded.

Curran walks a fine line to ensure his film leaves scenes open to the audience’s interpretation and viewers will have widely different experiences watching “Chappaquiddick” based on their own personal ideologies.

Leaving the movie intentionally ambiguous is perhaps the film’s biggest single strength.

Unfortunately, “Chappaquiddick” arrives far too early in the calendar year to merit any serious conversation come award season, although Clarke and especially Dern would prove worthy of nominations.

While other recent political biopics have taken a firm stance on issues, “Chappaquiddick” feels refreshingly impartial in allowing viewers to come to their own conclusions.

Now in limited release, “Chappaquiddick” certainly deserves audiences that would make the extra effort to seek out the film.

On paper, it seems like a surefire winner to have an acting legend like Al Pacino take on the role of college football’s winningest coach.

Pacino exudes gravitas for days and it doesn’t hurt at all that the Academy Award-winning actor bears a striking resemblance to the 84-year-old sports icon.

But the execution leaves a little bit to be desired as Oscar-winning director Barry Levinson’s biopic of Penn State football coach Joe Paterno for HBO Films simply misses that extra gear it needed to truly encompass such a complex story.

Told over the course of several weeks in late 2011, “Paterno” follows “JoePa” and Penn State University officials immediately following sexual abuse of a child charges being filed against former assistant coach Jerry Sandusky.

For as much as the film is about Sandusky’s actions and who Penn State knew about them, there’s little of Sandusky on screen although his presence looms large throughout especially within Paterno’s psyche.

It’s nearly impossible to get a sense of Sandusky as a man or understand how events unfolded. But for Levinson, that really isn’t the point of “Paterno.”

The film was made for, and viewers turned into see, Pacino’s interpretation of a beloved sports hero’s fall from grace. The choices the veteran actor makes with the roll are surprisingly nuanced.

Gone are the traditional speeches of bravado that usually accompany a weighty Pacino performance. The boisterous personalities he’s known for have taken a backseat to a somber, measured turn as Paterno.

Perhaps the best, or at least the most human, aspect of his performance is how heavy the weight of the scandal increasingly takes its toll on Paterno.

It’s almost as if Pacino what’s his shoulders and sags his physicality gradually over the course of the film to help reflect the inner turmoil setting in. There’s a lot that isn’t said in Pacino’s performance, but so much hiding in plain sight as well.

Riley Keough anchors the film’s other major plot line as a young investigative journalist trying to stay ahead of other news outlets while sensitively and judiciously telling the story of Sandusky’s victims. She offers a stabilizing, even-keeled effort that paces major sections of “Paterno” without being too obtrusive.

A solid supporting cast lifts Levinson’s feature when neither Pacino or Keough are the main focus of the storyline. However, the relative anonymity and lack of star power here makes it difficult for audiences to keep track of the film’s many moving parts.

Much of “Paterno” jumps around at a haphazard pace thanks to a muddled, uneven screenplay from writers Debora Cahn and John C. Richards.

Though events unfold in linear fashion, audiences have to scramble to orient themselves scene to scene as Levinson hops from Paterno himself to Penn State officials scheming in the background to an investigative journalist to the gridiron at a frantic pace.

“Paterno” attempts to say a lot of things about a lot of different subject matters – the importance of the press, moral versus legal culpability, what defines a man’s legacy. None of them are achieved particularly well.

The Sandusky scandal at Penn State, especially as it relates to the tarnishing of Paterno, is handled significantly better in the highly engaging, well constructed documentary “Happy Valley,” now available on streaming platforms.

It’s good that outlets like HBO Films are taking chances on long-form narrative features like “Paterno” and the upcoming “Fahrenheit 451” starring Michael B. Jordan and Michael Shannon instead of bloating their budgets for an Oscar season race or turning the whole project into a 10-episode mini-series.

As quality artists increasingly leave film for television ventures, maintaining a solid mid-tier of feature-length films is critical but you keep Hollywood from homogenizing movies to action blockbuster spectacles.

With a timely plot and solid performance by Pacino, “Paterno” definitely deserves consideration for viewers’ next movie night at home.