Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World (dir. by Peter Weir) Review


“This is the second time he’s done this to me. There will not be a third.” — Jack Aubrey

A lesser adventure movie would treat the ocean as empty space between battles. In Peter Weir’s Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World, it becomes an entire way of life. Meals, friendships, work, and terrible injuries all happen within the same cramped wooden walls, with nowhere to go when things get uncomfortable. That sense of confinement makes the film surprisingly absorbing. The cannon fire is exciting, but so is watching people figure out how to live together under pressure. What starts as a pursuit of an enemy ship gradually becomes a closer look at the man who refuses to let that enemy escape.

The film draws from the first and tenth books in Patrick O’Brian’s Aubrey–Maturin series, Master and Commander and The Far Side of the World, with the tenth supplying most of the central storyline. Rather than closely following the opening novel and introducing its characters from the beginning, Weir places us inside an established friendship and a working shipboard community. That choice gives the adaptation a lived-in quality. Aubrey and Maturin already have habits, disagreements, and ways of understanding each other that do not need explaining. We learn about their relationship by watching it function, which is more engaging than having their history handed to us.

Russell Crowe’s Captain Jack Aubrey commands HMS Surprise during the Napoleonic Wars. His target is the Acheron, a French privateer with enough speed and firepower to make their encounter seriously uneven. Weir establishes that imbalance through a brutal opening attack rather than a long explanation. The Surprise takes a beating, and suddenly the captain’s confidence has to compete with the evidence of shattered timber and injured men. Aubrey survives, but he cannot simply move on. Catching the Acheron becomes unfinished business, and everyone aboard gets pulled into his determination to settle it. The chase supplies the plot, but his reasons for continuing it supply the tension.

Crowe is a huge part of why this works. He gives Aubrey an easy authority that makes the crew’s loyalty believable. This captain can share a joke, appreciate a good meal, and make difficult decisions without appearing to switch between different personalities. There is warmth beneath his command, but also an expectation that his judgment will prevail. Crowe makes both sides convincing. You understand why the men feel safer with him in charge, even when he is asking them to do something dangerous. His confidence is attractive, and the film lets us enjoy it before making us consider its limits.

Those limits become clearer as Aubrey’s obsession with tracking down the Acheron builds. His assignment gives him a legitimate reason to pursue the French privateer, but the chase gradually becomes tangled up with his pride. Being beaten at his own game bothers him more than he wants to admit. Each setback seems to strengthen his need to prove that he can win. What makes this unsettling is how calmly he justifies himself. He never stops being intelligent or capable. Instead, military reasoning and personal ambition become difficult to separate. He can explain why the pursuit matters, but that does not mean he fully understands why it matters so much to him.

The person most willing to challenge him is Stephen Maturin, the ship’s surgeon and Aubrey’s close friend. Paul Bettany brings a dry, thoughtful quality to the role that plays beautifully against Crowe’s confidence. Maturin sees the wounded bodies behind the captain’s calculations, so arguments about duty are never purely theoretical for him. His scientific interests also give him priorities beyond the conflict. Where Aubrey sees a destination or a tactical advantage, Maturin notices something worth studying. Their disagreements make the voyage feel larger than its military objective. There is a whole world around them, even when Aubrey seems determined to reduce it to the distance between two ships.

Thankfully, the film does not turn their friendship into a series of lectures. Their shared musical sessions reveal a companionship that exists independently of whatever disagreement they are having. These scenes feel relaxed without becoming disposable. Watching them play together explains why they keep making room for each other despite their frustrations. Crowe and Bettany suggest familiarity through small changes in expression and tone rather than big emotional speeches. As a result, their arguments carry weight. They are not simply defending different opinions; they are testing how much disagreement a valued friendship can withstand, especially when one friend has the authority to overrule the other.

Weir gives the wider crew a similar sense of life beyond the plot. The Surprise feels like a workplace, a home, and an unforgiving social system all at once. Everyone has duties, everyone depends on someone else, and privacy barely seems to exist. Brief moments of joking or nervous conversation make the sailors feel individual without requiring formal introductions. The younger officers are especially affecting. Their uniforms and responsibilities cannot quite hide how young they are. Watching them try to behave bravely adds an uncomfortable edge to the adventure, because courage here is something children are already expected to demonstrate.

That attention to people makes the battles much more effective. By the time the guns start firing again, damage to the ship feels like damage to a community we recognize. The violence is messy and frightening rather than cleanly heroic. Splintering wood turns familiar spaces into hazards, while Maturin’s medical work makes the aftermath impossible to ignore. There is still plenty of excitement in watching a plan come together, but clever tactics do not erase their cost. Aubrey’s skill matters enormously, yet skill cannot guarantee that the people carrying out his orders will come through unharmed. Victory never feels quite as simple as being the better captain.

Just as importantly, the battles between the Surprise and the Acheron are exceptionally well-staged and executed. Weir makes the tactics understandable without draining the encounters of confusion or danger. You can follow the importance of positioning, timing, and coordinated work while still feeling how little separates an effective maneuver from disaster. The action moves between the larger contest at sea and the immediate struggle on deck, keeping strategy and physical consequences connected. There is a satisfying sense that the sailors’ everyday routines have prepared them for these moments. All that hauling, drilling, and following orders becomes the machinery that gives Aubrey’s ideas a chance of succeeding.

The climactic confrontation brings those strengths together, but its most satisfying ingredient comes from an unexpected place: Maturin’s interest in nature. Aubrey takes a couple of pages from his friend’s observations of camouflage and disguises the Surprise as a vulnerable whaling ship, hoping to lure the Acheron close enough to overcome its advantages. It is a clever solution because it grows out of the relationship rather than arriving as a last-minute burst of genius. After allowing the pursuit to overshadow Maturin’s scientific interests, Aubrey finds something useful in the very subjects he has been too impatient to appreciate.

That connection gives the final battle more meaning than a straightforward test of firepower. Aubrey succeeds by adapting, looking beyond his usual expertise, and recognizing the value of another person’s perspective. The plan offers a small but important counterpoint to his stubbornness: his confidence becomes more productive when it leaves room for curiosity. Meanwhile, the execution delivers the excitement the long pursuit has promised. Preparation gives way to sudden violence, and the fighting feels close, exhausting, and dangerous. The deception may create an opening, but it does not make the confrontation easy. Weir lets the tactical payoff and the human cost occupy the same scene.

Outside the fighting, the contrast between the crowded ship and the enormous ocean remains one of the film’s strongest features. Inside, everything feels close enough to touch. Outside, the water seems capable of swallowing the whole enterprise without noticing. The storms sharpen that contrast by presenting a threat Aubrey cannot intimidate or defeat through determination alone. His experience can improve their chances, but it cannot give him complete control. That limitation matters in a story about a man accustomed to trusting himself. Nature keeps reminding him—and us—that confidence is not the same thing as power, however reassuring it may look from the deck.

The film’s patience will not work for everyone. Some stretches linger over routine or scientific curiosity when a more conventional action movie would hurry toward another confrontation. The Galápagos sequences are the clearest example, shifting attention toward Maturin’s interests and slowing the pursuit. For me, that breathing room mostly pays off. It makes the world feel worth exploring rather than merely crossing, and the later camouflage strategy gives those observations a satisfying place in the adventure. Occasionally, the contrast between the two friends feels a little neatly arranged. Still, removing those quieter passages would leave a faster movie with much less personality and far less reason to care about its outcome.

By the end, the Surprise feels less like a spectacular movie location than a place whose routines you have learned. You understand why these men need their captain, why his friendship with Maturin matters, and why his certainty can be reassuring and dangerous at the same time. That is what gives Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World its staying power. Weir delivers the adventure without treating the people as equipment needed to stage it. The battles draw you in, but the lasting pleasure is the company—even when the man setting the course makes you nervous about where everyone is headed.

Review: Apostle (dir. by Gareth Evans)


“She’s no god. She’s just a machine.” — Quinn

Apostle is one of those films that feels like Gareth Evans deliberately swerved away from the kinetic precision of The Raid and The Raid 2, as if to test whether he could still dominate the screen without back‑to‑back martial‑arts set pieces. The result is not a clean crowd‑pleaser, but a grim, blood‑soaked folk‑horror descent that trades velocity for dread, atmosphere, and the slow peeling away of civilized surfaces until what’s left is pure cruelty. It’s ambitious, dense, and at times unwieldy, but it is never the kind of hollow, algorithm‑friendly Netflix original that feels assembled by committee. The film leans into a slow‑burn approach, letting its cult setting and religious unease simmer before it erupts into something truly grotesque.

Set in 1905, Apostle follows Thomas Richardson, played by Dan Stevens with the exact right mix of haunted intensity and bruised arrogance, as he infiltrates a remote island cult to rescue his kidnapped sister. That setup sounds straightforward enough, but Evans uses it as a trapdoor into a much uglier story about faith, coercion, exploitation, and the grotesque systems people build when belief curdles into power. The cult is not merely spooky window dressing; it’s a functioning social organism with labor, hierarchy, punishment, and ritual, which gives the film a more grounded menace than a simple haunted‑house scenario. The island’s wrongness is not just in its rituals, but in the way ordinary domestic life has been turned into a kind of ongoing penance.

What makes Apostle compelling is how patiently Evans allows the island to breathe before he starts tearing it apart. The first half is almost methodical in the way it maps the place: the political tension within the cult, the uneasy alliances, the daily routines, the controlled scarcity, and the sense that every face hides some compromise. That slow construction is crucial, because once the film starts revealing what the island is actually built on, the horror lands with more force. It does not chase jump scares; it lets the audience sit inside the wrongness until the wrongness starts to feel inevitable. The film’s real horror is in the way it treats belief as a system of control rather than a source of comfort.

Michael Sheen is the other major pillar here, and he gives the film a wickedly slippery center as Malcolm, the island’s charismatic prophet. Sheen plays him as part messiah, part salesman, part exhausted tyrant, which is exactly the right tone for a character whose authority depends on performance. He isn’t merely loud or theatrical; he’s persuasive, and that is much scarier. The film understands that the most dangerous religious figures are often not the ones who snarl the loudest, but the ones who can make oppression sound like purpose. Dan Stevens plays beautifully against that energy, keeping Thomas in a state of wary observation until desperation forces him into action. The two actors give the movie a dramatic spine sturdy enough to support all the blood and theology around them.

Evans’ direction is, unsurprisingly, the film’s great technical asset. Even when Apostle feels overloaded, it never feels careless. He stages the island as an environment of mud, wood, fog, and decay, and his eye for spatial clarity keeps the film legible even when the narrative starts layering on secrets and hidden machinery. If The Raid was about velocity and geometry, Apostle is about pressure and contamination. The violence, when it arrives, still carries the director’s unmistakable talent for framing brutality on screen: every blow lands with a clarity and weight that makes the gore feel integral rather than gratuitous. But in Apostle he deftly dips his filmmaking talents into the world of gothic folk horror, slotting his sensibility alongside classics like The Wicker Man, Witchfinder General, and The Witch. The island’s rituals, its mix of agrarian dread and religious paranoia, and its sense of a sealed community preparing for a bloody reckoning all echo those earlier works, while Evans colors them in his own grimy palette.

There’s also something interesting about how the film handles world‑building. It is overstuffed, yes, but it is overstuffed in a way that feels earned rather than random. The island has systems, factions, and ugly little bureaucracies of suffering, and the film keeps revealing new layers of control and corruption until the whole place feels like a machine designed to consume bodies and faith at the same time. Some viewers will see that density as a flaw, and they’re not entirely wrong; Apostle can feel a little overextended, as if Evans has too many ideas he wants to wring out of the same pressure cooker. But it could also be argued that the excess is part of the film’s personality. It’s not elegant horror. It’s horrified by its own abundance.

Thematically, Apostle works best when it treats religion not as a decorative taboo, but as a field of contesting desires. The film isn’t interested in simple anti‑faith provocation. Instead, it examines what happens when belief becomes a resource to be managed, weaponized, and monetized. The cult claims to reject corruption from the outside world, but its inner life is every bit as predatory, which makes the island feel less like an isolated aberration and more like a compressed version of the larger world Thomas came from. That’s one of the movie’s smartest ideas: the mainland and the island are different expressions of the same rot. The difference is only one of scale and visibility.

As a horror film, Apostle is strongest when it is patient and weakest when it has to juggle too many moving parts at once. The final stretch escalates into an effectively feral confrontation, but the movie occasionally risks losing the eerie precision of its setup in favor of sheer attritional chaos. Still, even that chaos has a purpose. Evans is not just trying to shock; he’s trying to show what happens when systems of belief collapse under the weight of their own lies. The result is messy, unpleasant, and often very good. It is also one of the more distinctive Netflix originals of its era, precisely because it refuses to be easy or tidy.

Apostle feels like a filmmaker known for kinetic precision making a movie about spiritual and social collapse, and the contradiction works in its favor. Even as he steps into the domain of gothic folk horror, Evans never loses his gift for filming violence or his sense of where the camera should sit in relation to pain. It has the rough edges of an ambitious film reaching for too much, but those edges are part of what makes it memorable. Part of the reason the film is underappreciated as quietly as it is may be that it arrived with a reputation attached: if Evans did not already have a name as a master of action filmmaking, Apostle might be celebrated more openly as a standalone horror achievement. Sometimes moving out of one’s comfort zone and still succeeding is exactly what gets held back by one’s reputation for what they’re “supposed” to be good at.

Between the bleak atmosphere, the commanding performances, the grim folk‑horror imagery, and Evans’ refusal to soften the ugliness of his subject, Apostle stands as a smart, vicious, and unusually committed piece of genre filmmaking. It may not be the Gareth Evans movie action fans expected, but it is very much the one horror fans deserved.

Trailer: Apostle (Netflix)


Apostle

Gareth Evans is pretty much the director who helped usher in the latest renaissance in action films. His films show that action can be done without reling on quick cuts and fast edits. Gone are the days of Christopher Nolan staged fight scenes that shows no life whatsoever and the nausea-inducing edits by Paul Green grass in his Bourne franchise.

Well-known for his work in Indonesia, especially with the Raid franchise, Gareth Evans is now trying his hand in something a bit different, but still looks to be in his wheelhouse. This time around it’s through the largesse of Netflix that he will be making his next project titled Apostle.

The film has been under the radar throughout much of its production and post-production, but with less than a month remaining til it’s October release, Apostle may have just become one of my most anticipated films of the year.

With a cast headlined by Dan Stevens and Michael Sheen, Apostle looks to combine Evans’ stylistic action with period horror. Will the combination be a balanced mix or will it be too much of a good thing and the whole thing falls apart? We’ll find out on October 12, 2018.

Film Review: Queen of the Desert (dir by Werner Herzog)


Last night, I finally saw the latest Werner Herzog film to be released in the United States, Queen of the Desert.

Queen of the Desert has actually been around … well, I was going to say forever but actually, I first started to hear about it in 2014.  It premiered (to less-than-enthusiastic reviews) at the Berlin International Film Festival in February of 2015 and was released in Germany later that same year.  Originally, it was going to get a wide release in America but then IFC acquired the distribution rights and ended up sitting on it for two years.  (During that time, Herzog went on to direct another film, Salt and Fire.)  Only last month did Queen of the Desert finally get a very limited theatrical and VOD release here in the United States.

Despite all of the bad things that I had heard, I was still looking forward to seeing Queen of the Desert.  Why not?  Werner Herzog is one of my favorite directors.  The star of Queen of the Desert, Nicole Kidman, is one of my favorite actresses.  Of course, there was also the Franco factor.  I knew that Queen of the Desert featured James Franco in a small role and, if you’ve been reading this site for a while, y’all know how I feel about James Franco.

Having now watched it, I can say that Queen of the Desert is not the disaster that so many have been insisting.  That doesn’t mean that it’s a great film or even a good film.  It’s a very middle-of-the-road film, one that is too well-made to really be a disaster but, at the same time, is never as memorable as it should be.

Queen of the Desert tells the story of Gertrude Bell (Nicole Kidman), who abandoned a safely comfortable but restrictive life in turn-of-the-century Britain so that she could explore the world.  In the film, Gertrude falls in love twice and, following the unhappy (and tragic) conclusions of those affairs, she always returns to the Middle East, where surviving the harshness of the desert and exploring the ruins of past civilizations brings her peace and gives her life a greater meaning.

That’s a theme that should be familiar to anyone who has watched any of Herzog’s documentaries or feature films.  The problem is that, as told in this film, there’s no real spark to the story or to Gertrude as a character.  Herzog’s best work has often dealt with people driven to the point of madness by their obsessions.  Think about Nicolas Cage in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans.  Think about Timothy Treadwell, obsessively living with the grizzlies until one them ate him in Grizzly Man.  Consider the introverted eccentrics who explored The Cave of Forgotten Dreams or even Christian Bale’s refusal to allow himself to be broken in the POW film, Rescue Dawn.  Think about Klaus Kinski in just about every film he ever made with Herzog.  For that matter, just think about Werner Herzog himself is Les Blank’s documentary, The Burden of Dreams.  Nicole Kidman would seem like an ideal choice for Gertrude and she does a good job with the role but, as written, Gertrude never has that touch of madness.  Unlike Aguirre, she’s not looking to conquer nature.  Unlike Fitzcarraldo, she’s not trying to bring “civilization” to the isolated spot in the world.  Unlike Timothy Treadwell, she’s not even trying to literally become one with nature.  Instead, she’s just someone who deals with heartache by going on a trip.  I do that every time I spend the weekend up at Lake Texoma.

(The real-life Gertrude Bell died, under somewhat mysterious circumstances, of an overdose of sleeping pills.  Whether it was suicide or an accidental overdose is not known.  In the film, the circumstances of her death — which seem very Herzogian, to be honest — are glossed over by an end title card that simply informs us that she died in 1926.)

As I said earlier, Queen of the Desert is disappointing but it’s not terrible.  Visually, it’s quite stunning and the scenes of the sand blowing in the desert are often a hundred times more interesting than the film’s storyline.  Whenever Herzog is letting his camera focus on the desert or glide over the ruins of an ancient palace, you can understand why Herzog wanted to make this film.  But, unfortunately, the film keeps returning to a story that’s about as middling as an old soap opera.

Nicole Kidman does a good job as Gertrude but she runs into the same problem that she ran into with Grace of Monaco.  She’s stuck with a script that repeatedly tells us that the lead character is fascinating without ever really giving her a chance to prove it.  (Before I get any angry comments, I know that Grace Kelly was fascinating and I’m sure that Gertrude Bell was too.  I’m merely talking about the way that they were portrayed in their biopics.)  As the men in her life, James Franco and Robert Pattinson are both ideal but Damian Lewis is a bit on the dull side.

All in all, this is not one of Werner Herzog’s best but, with all that said, I’ll still follow him anywhere that he chooses to go.