Crime Doesn't Pay?

We're still relatively early in the film year, but 2026 has already served up one of its biggest box office bombs in Crime 101, a film you can now stream on Amazon Prime. Was it actually bad, or just a movie that many (like myself) just didn't even hear about during its money-losing theatrical run?

Crime 101 centers on Mike, a jewel thief whose jobs are meticulously planned and precisely executed. But the story also tracks Detective Lubesnick, the cop hot on his trail; Sharon, a high-end insurance broker who's grown increasingly dissatisfied in her job; and Ormon, the young psychopath who Mike's fence is grooming as a replacement. This film noir-type stew of shifting agendas and loyalties keeps the audience guessing what will happen next, and even who they should be rooting for.

Earning back less than its $90 million budget in movie theaters, Crime 101 can only be regarded as a flop. But is it one of those flops that years later comes to be well-regarded? (Can that even happen when no one is watching the cable networks that would constantly run the same movie to build such whispering campaigns?) Probably not (to both questions), because Crime 101 turns out to be a movie that feels less than the sum of its parts. And yet... the parts, even on their own, are pretty good.

Let's start with the absolutely stacked cast. Chris Hemsworth stars as Mike, bringing his trademark charm to yet another action role. Mike is more intellectual than physical, and part of the fun here is seeing Hemsworth as a character looking to avoid the confrontations we know he excels at on screen.

Hemsworth is having a Marvel mini-reunion with Mark Ruffalo, who plays the detective. But for Ruffalo, the throwback most likely to be in the audience's mind is his similar role in Zodiac. It's been almost two decades since that movie, and Ruffalo's character feels like he's been on the job living every one of those hard 20 years. He's easy to root for, which makes it even more fun to have Hemsworth as his criminal foil.

The insurance broker, Sharon, is played by Halle Berry. It's a bit of a different role that allows her to act her age (though to be clear, she does not for one moment come across like one of our "aged" movie stars). It never quite seems like Crime 101 might suddenly turn into a Halle Berry star vehicle, but she elevates the role she's playing in the story.

Barry Keoghan is the one indisputable villain of the piece. His is a fun bit of casting too; many of his movies have him buttoned up tight, or perhaps showing one brief explosion of energy. In this movie, he's all volatility. And while I've now said a bit about all the main stars, I should note that Crime 101 also features Monica Barbaro, Corey Hawkins, Jennifer Jason Leigh (for like, a minute), Nick Nolte, and more.

It's a very stylish movie too. Writer-director Bart Layton is clearly a student of film noir, and has studied the classics. But he's also clearly influenced by more modern makers of noir and noir-like films; in particular I felt the influence of Steven Soderbergh and Michael Mann all over the movie. If you like a gritty movie that feels dark even when the sun is shining, Crime 101 might be for you.

But like I hinted... for all the appeal, it does feel to me like the movie should end up better than it is. I enjoyed the ride, but I never really felt like Keoghan's character was a serious threat to Hemsworth's. I never really felt like the story would give Halle Berry as much to do as it should. I certainly never invested in the perfunctory romantic subplot for the main character. Yet I did to some extent enjoy all the chess pieces being steadily marched into position for the final gambit.

I'd give Crime 101 a B-. It's not essential viewing, but it probably deserved better than the chilly box office reception it received. And perhaps by me doing my tiniest part to spread the word a little, it'll find its way to a person or two who might really like it.

Star Trek Flashback: The Return of the Archons

One drawback of the classic TV show model, which produced 20+ or even 30+ episodes a year, is how quickly those episodes had to be made. If the sets look cheap? Well, the team probably had only hours to build it. If the actors seem wooden? They might have had just one or two takes before they had to move on? If the script doesn't make sense? There probably wasn't time to iron out the story in a new draft. To some extent, all these problems hound the original Star Trek episode "The Return of the Archons."

The Enterprise visits a planet where a brainwashed populace blindly obeys the will of a mysterious and unseen ruler, Landru. When an encounter with a landing party leaves Sulu pacified and another crewman missing, Kirk and company have no choice but to solve the mystery of Landru.

In my eyes, "The Return of the Archons" is not a particularly good episode of Star Trek. But you do see hints of the really good episode it might have been if they'd just had more time to make it. There's a Star Trek morality play at the core, a message about what happens when free will is given over to a powerful government (and more specifically relevant to today, to artificial intelligence). The episode marks the first of several times that Captain Kirk "talks a computer to death." It seems at least possible that, decades later, this episode might have inspired the film franchise The Purge.

But so much about the episode is not fully cooked. Let's start with that Purge-like "Festival" we learn about in the opening act, where for one night, the citizens of this planet engage in a violent bacchanal. Absolutely nothing about this is made clear. Does this happen periodically, or every night? Why are people inside buildings unaffected? (Or is it that they're older?)

Most importantly, what purpose does this Festival serve? Landru's control over society seems rather complete, and it's never suggested that the Festival is a failure of his abilities, a necessary concession to human urges, a consequence of the actions against him by the resistance, or any other explanation of any kind. Indeed, at the end of the episode, when Landru's control has been broken, the team of sociologists left behind by the Enterprise reports that violence has broken out among the once-peaceful population, as though this was an unprecedented development. The Festival is a clever gimmick, but it cuts completely against the rest of the story, both narratively and metaphorically. It seems certain that, had they had just one more week to work on the script, it would have been either integrated more logically, or cut.

In the course of the story, we learn that the people of this planet are mind-controlled by Landru. (Though we never learn how this control is asserted.) We also learn of people who are immune to Landru's control. Allegedly. They don't seem particularly motivated to do much to stop Landru, acting as cowed in their own way as the brainwashed masses. Is this all part of the system? Are they actually immune? If so, how and why? The episode isn't interested in any of this -- not for the potential intellectual puzzle, nor the exploration of how dissent is quelled in a fascist society. This is the stuff of prime Star Trek, but this episode just isn't interested in any of it.

When Sulu is brainwashed in the opening teaser, it's a rapid rush into the plot of the episode, paced more like a modern episode of television than the slow build of other episodes thus far. But the extent of his control is never explored. Is he a danger to the ship? When McCoy is brainwashed later on, he's a threat to the rest of the landing party who must be dealt with. But Sulu is also among other people who are "not of the body" of Landru, and apparently does nothing about it.

The performances are all over the map. DeForest Kelley goes 10 out of 10 with a manic, screaming performance; George Takei embraces the persona of a stoned hippie with equal commitment. Both probably could have used a few more takes to find a more realistic pitch. Some guest stars are giving uncharacteristically grounded and realistic performances; others feel like they're reading their lines off of cue cards. One or two extra days in the shooting schedule might have done wonders to improve the episode, even with the script as written.

The episode doesn't feel cheap. It films extensively on a studio backlot, with dozens of stunt performers, period costumes for everyone, a rather elaborate dungeon set, and more. But then when we get to the big reveal, that Landru is actually a computer, the money simply runs out. The computer doesn't even look as "convincing" as the consoles of the Enterprise, and the sad spray of sparks and smokes that marks its "death" are woefully small for the defeat of the episode's ultimate villain.

Other observations: 

• There's a great new effects shot in the remastered version, zooming down from the Enterprise in orbit to an aerial view of the city below.

• Some Star Trek fixtures are coming into focus. Here, the ship's defenses are "shields" (not "screens"). And we get the first mention of Starfleet's "Prime Directive" of non-interference -- though it's a bit muddled with Landru's own "prime directive" being discussed in the same episode.

• You can definitely tell with these classic Star Trek episodes that they were made for a time when audiences for another program would switch channels after a half-hour show and join in to an hour show midway through. Kirk always has a helpful log entry at the halfway point to recap everything that's happened.

• The moment Landru is destroyed, a de-programmed Sulu is ready to go back to work. When did he change back into his uniform?

There are enough neat aspects of "The Return of the Archons" that I don't actually think it's a bad episode. But it's such a jumble of misplaced and half-finished thoughts that I don't find it a good one, either. I give it a C+.

Life in a Nutshell

Of all the television shows due for a nostalgic reboot, I would not have expected Malcolm in the Middle to get tapped. Don't get me wrong: I did watch the original show about this quirky family with no last name and lots of unruly kids... and there's plenty I liked about it. It often had the zaniness of a live-action cartoon. It rather smoothly navigated the aging of its mostly child cast over a seven-year run. It's now a fun artifact of a time when Bryan Cranston was known only for comedy. But did I want, as the reboot itself says as it kicks off, "more of this?"

It turns out -- yeah, I kind of did want more of this. And I found it weird just how little we got.

The new reboot on Hulu, Malcolm in the Middle: Life's Still Unfair, runs just four episodes. Each is barely longer than the classic network length that would have allowed for commercials, clocking in under half an hour. If you're a binge-watcher, you could easily finish it in one sitting, as though it were a movie. (Not a particularly long one, by today's standards.) And it feels like it's barely gotten going by the time it's all over.

It's been 20 years since the original series went off the air. Some of the cast has hardly worked in acting in that time. As I noted, Bryan Cranston's career has turned upside-down, and now he'll forever be known foremost as a dramatic actor. The writers haven't thought about these characters in decades. There is, quite simply, a warming up period here. The first episode of the re-boot isn't bad, and does have moments that reminded me of what was good about the original series in its prime... but at the same time, it didn't really seem laugh-out-loud funny to me. But hey... there's only three more, so why not keep going?

What unfolds is a tight story about parents Hal and Lois planning a big event for a milestone wedding anniversary, struggling to get all their kids there amid grand romantic gestures. And with each episode, the footing seems to grow more assured. A weird diversion for Hal in episode 3 absolutely captures the wild swings that the original series would sometimes take. (And is also a showcase for Bryan Cranston. Did he need to be coaxed into this reboot, and was this the bait?)

Episode 4 is a satisfying culmination of the new storyline. It's stuffed with cameos of characters you may remember from the original series -- or perhaps had forgotten until the moment they reappear. It has just the right touch of sweetness to remind you that Malcolm in the Middle wasn't just about being wild and occasionally crass. And with several new characters, introduced in this reboot, now settling into their apparent new roles in the "No Last Name" family, it feels that the stage is set for more.

But there isn't any. That's it. Life is unfair.

I can imagine the sort of behind-the-scenes discussion that led to it being this way. Does anybody remember Malcolm in the Middle? If we spend money to make, say, 10 more episodes, will enough people watch it? I get it. But four episodes feels right at the line of "why bother at all?"

Should you bother at all? Well, if you never watched the original Malcolm in the Middle -- or only caught a few episodes -- I'd say no. This reboot is not going to make the case to you that you should go back and find out what you missed. On the other hand, the reboot feels to me like a warm reminder: this was fun once, and it's still fun. And if it left me wanting more, isn't that better than overstaying its welcome?

I'd give Malcolm in the Middle: Life's Still Unfair a B. Maybe a B+, if I'm judging mostly by the point it reaches in the final episode than the less-solid start of the first. If you feel any nostalgia for the original series, you pretty much have nothing to lose.

Star Trek Flashback: Court Martial

When the original Star Trek went back to "save" its original pilot episode by turning it into a two-part episode, a courtroom drama plot was added. Though the trial against Spock barely resembled any authentic legal procedure, it was an effective device to splice in footage from that first episode. But it also stole the claim to being Star Trek's first "courtroom episode," a distinction that otherwise should have (more rightfully) gone to "Court Martial."

When a crewmember dies aboard the Enterprise, Captain Kirk's account of what happened is contradicted by the ship's recordings. A trial ensues, where Kirk is prosecuted by an old flame, defended by an brilliant eccentric, and unaware of the surprising truth of what happened.

The legal drama is one of the most enduring narratives of film and television -- and so its only natural for other TV shows, looking for a break from formula, to turn to it for an episode. The tradition has run for decades, and as such has changed along with the storytelling techniques of the time. What I'm getting at is: today, most legal shows try to be quite realistic in their depiction of courtroom procedure. Once upon a time, shows like Perry Mason ruled the day, staging a gestalt of a trial that didn't care as much for accuracy.

"Court Martial" falls between those moments in time, and expectedly falls somewhere in the middle on the spectrum of realism. In many ways, the episode holds up after 60 years as a compelling bit of drama. It makes a meal out of evidence, fierce cross-examination, and objections. The conceit of Kirk's legal opposition being an old romantic interest was a compelling enough idea for The Next Generation to borrow it for one of its own foundational legal episodes. And some story elements resonate even more now than they did when the episode was new: the "man against machine" nature of Kirk's defense, along with the "deep faked" video used against him, evokes thoughts of one of modern day's hottest topics, AI.

At other times, you have to remind yourself that you should not look to a 1960s TV show, set in an imagined future, for any sort of realistic legal procedure. When the prosecuting attorney gets to testify directly to the court? The defense decides to skip half the prosecution's case? The trial is re-opened after both sides have rested? The defense attorney just starts monologuing about historical documents? We're in Perry Mason territory now. But is it entertaining? You bet!

The idea that Cogley rejects digitized books seems wild, but perfectly highlights the thematic spine of the story. When the daughter of Kirk's alleged victim rants hysterically at him, it's melodramatic, yet it kind of works. When a commodore tries to coerce Kirk into accepting a desk job to avoid a trial, it feels all too realistic. It's great to see Kirk fiercely defended by the characters we've come to know, and hear (some of) his many accolades. Spock using chess to figure out the computer has been manipulated is fun. The dramatic way in which the dead crewman Finney is revealed to be alive is a hoot.

And sure, there are some elements that don't work as well. The wild array of ages in Kirk's supposed graduating class is a stain on the casting department's figurative shirt. The slinky version of the Star Trek theme that plays when Kirk's old flame Shaw walks in is cringe. Everyone's incredulous reaction to the video is wild when we've been told all along what it would show. The whiplash turnaround of Finney's daughter, from enraged at Kirk to supporting him, is presented without justification. Kirk being allowed to go alone to confront the man people thought he murdered is just wild.

There are also hints throughout that maybe this script was written by someone who's heard of Star Trek but maybe hasn't actually seen an episode before. Spock is a "Vulcanian." A microphone is presented as though it's some unrecognizable futuristic prop. Kirk narrates like a private detective, without making an actual log entry.

Other observations:

• The remastered version of this episode might be the first to show us multiple Constitution-class ships, and also shows us the hole in the Enterprise hull undergoing repairs. 

• Shaw's big stained-glass earrings cast crazy light patterns on her face under the bright studio lights of the time. 

• The big showdown between Kirk and Finney features classic Star Trek fight choreography -- complete with obvious stunt doubles, a ripped uniform, and a comically large wrench.

I give "Court Martial" a B. It may quietly be one of the stronger episodes of Star Trek's first season. It's certainly one of the more fun ones, without trying to be comedic.

Enterprise Flashback: Daedalus

Not every episode in the final season of Star Trek: Enterprise was part of some multi-part story arc. Still, the season was nearly half over when it did finally reach its first stand-alone episode, "Daedalus."

Emory Erickson, inventor of the transporter and family friend of the Archers, comes aboard Enterprise to conduct an experiment with his daughter Danica. But as Trip slowly gets over his hero worship of the man, he begins to suspect that Erickson is hiding something. Is it something that threatens the ship?

I've already noted that the push toward multi-episode "mini arcs" in season four was fertile ground for the series. It let the writers really explore being a prequel to Star Trek, and gave space to balance character with story more effectively. This stand-alone episode highlights that growth by being far less effective.

Like many early episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation, this episode has the problem of being too much about its guest star. This story is driven entirely by Erickson's secret mission (which I'm spoiling here): to rescue his son from a fate worse than death. It's a rather similar premise to the early Star Trek: Voyager episode "Jetrel," though that episode had an important role in the story for regular character Neelix.

What do the regular characters do here? Not much, really. Archer is said to be a family friend of the Ericksons, which gives Scott Bakula more scenes without actually making him very important to the story. Trip is around a lot, but he really is written in the story as an antagonist, an obstacle to keep the central character, Erickson, from getting what he wants. All the emotions are Emory and Danica's, as they grieve for a family member who isn't truly dead. And none of the other series regulars interact with them much at all. The guest stars are at least solid, particularly Bill Cobbs as Emory, a real "that guy" actor you've probably seen on other shows. I do feel for the Ericksons; I just wish any of the regular characters seemed to. 

There are some interesting elements at the margins. There's fun talk about transporters that mimics actual fan discussions. ("Is the person who transports the same, or a copy of the original who has been destroyed?") It's not central to the plot that Emory uses a wheelchair, but it's a nice bit of inclusion that he does. There's fun production work, including interesting original series-style camera angles, and a power outage sequence with great haunted house vibes. And there are nods to continuity, as when T'Pol reveals she is reading the recently discovered Kir'Shara.

Other observations:

• But one bit of continuity that isn't acknowledged: at one point, Emory says that Trip should reserve judgement until he has lost a son. In a weird sci-fi way, he has.

• Emory is so sure that Starfleet wouldn't have authorized this mission if Emory had revealed his real intentions. Would they not? There's a person out there suffering a horrific living death, and the inventor of the transporter would like to borrow a ship for a week to attempt a rescue. Why not?

• The fact that the original transporter took a minute-and-a-half to work is an effectively macabre detail.

• T'Pol's spiritual journey is such a side note in this episode, but it does give us another moment of John Billingsley crushing one of his maybe five lines in an episode -- when Phlox notes that most people never re-examine their core beliefs.

It must have been appealing to the writers to tell a story about the inventor of the transporter, a rare corner of Star Trek lore that had essentially no details fleshed out. But the story doesn't really come together. I give "Daedalus" a C+.

Star Trek Flashback: Tomorrow Is Yesterday

In a weird coda at the end of the episode "The Naked Time," Star Trek established that the Enterprise could travel through time (whether the the story warranted it or not). The show delivered on that promise in the episode "Tomorrow Is Yesterday."

The Enterprise is accidentally thrown back in time to Earth in the late 1960s. In short order, they're taken to be a UFO, and unintentionally destroy an Air Force plane and abduct its pilot. Now the crew must repair their ship, erase the evidence of their presence, find a way to return the pilot and restore the course of history, and return to their own time.

There are quite a few episodes of the original Star Trek that make you think: "oh, they totally ripped this one off later for The Next Generation." This episode is one such touchstone for later Star Trek. But not for the early seasons of a still-finding its way Next Gen; rather, for Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. That movie isn't without its own new elements: a threatened Earth, an environmentalist message, and of course, the whales. But consider everything else.

In both Star Trek IV and "Tomorrow Is Yesterday," our heroes find them transported back in time to the real-world present. They soon encounter a contemporary human who takes quite well to interactions with people from the future. They have to sneak around a military installation. And all of it is done with a decidedly comedic tone. (20th century pilot John Christopher: "I never have believed in little green men." Spock: "Neither have I.")

Star Trek IV has a lot more polish. And "Tomorrow Is Yesterday" has working against it the fact it was made for 1960s television, a time and place where the humor is intentionally crafted with "dopey slide whistle" sensibilities. Is it funny when an Air Force security guard just freezes when he materializes on the transporter pad? When a freshly upgraded Enterprise computer flirts with Captain Kirk? Well, no, not really. But then, this style of comedy has aged more poorly than even the 60-year-old sets have. (Notice all the wrinkles on the screens on the Enterprise bridge.)

But still, there's plenty here that does work well. It's an entertainingly breathless episode, where one problem keeps piling on after another. Most of the characters get good moments: Scotty points out that even once he's repaired the ship, they have nowhere to go; McCoy has a great reaction when Kirk compares him to Spock (that's comedy that does work); Sulu beams down to the Air Force base with Kirk (not sure why it's those two, but whatever). And with the character of John Christopher, the episode handles well that not all people from the past are stupid... but that our heroes will always, eventually, get the upper hand. Plus, I love that in this episode, made in 1967, the writers took their shot, declared that humans would land on the moon by the end of the 1960s, and were proven right.

How the episode gets out of these stacked-up problems feels like nonsense. After conveniently inching back in time again before shooting forward again, the transporter serves as a hand-waving solution to it all (not for the first time; certainly not for the last). It's not clear what's happening when someone is "beamed into themselves." (Is this like overwriting a computer file? Is one person being destroyed and swapped for another?) And I don't understand how that causes time to reset itself midstream. But I guess the sillier tone of the episode allows for sillier solutions.

Other observations:

• The footage of scrambling Air Force jets didn't match the rest of the episode even in 1967. But when they came along and updated all the Enterprise effects shots in the 2000s re-master, it made the grainy stock footage stick out even more.  

• Gotta get that slinky trombone music in when John Christopher spots a female crewmember on the Enterprise.

• On the Air Force base, the photo lab has a silent alarm on the door, but the computer records office doesn't. I'm sure it's just for writing convenience, but it's fun to pretend this is a sign of the times (and a reflection on the value of computers).

• Are the clocks on the Enterprise tied to some outside, observable force in the universe? Or did Spock program them to count backwards when the ship is moving backwards in time?

In a world where Star Trek IV didn't exist, "Tomorrow Is Yesterday" might hit a bit better for me. Then again, I imagine that 1980s humor misses with a younger audience in much the same way this 1960s humor misses for me here. But it's still a fun enough episode. I give it a B-.

Enterprise Flashback: Kir'Shara

Another epic three-part Enterprise story arc comes to a close with "Kir'Shara."

Possessed by the spirit of Surak, Archer leads the Vulcan resistance in search of an ancient artifact that could change all Vulcan society. But the planet's leader V'Las is determined to stop them at any cost. Meanwhile, Trip and Soval seek help from the Andorians, and a particularly skeptical Shran.

At a high level, I have similar criticisms about this concluding part three that I had with part two of the trilogy. V'Las grows ever more villainous, to a degree that seems increasingly hard to believe. (You have to wonder if there's any Vulcan version of the 25th amendment, and what the political landscape is like that people as logical as the Vulcans wouldn't use it.) It's never made clear why Archer was chosen by Surak, and things only get more MacGuffiny in the hunt for an artifact whose revelation will magically resolve everything... somehow.

But you either went along with this stuff back in part two or not. And once again, the more personal aspects of the story elevate the storytelling. You can always count on Jeffrey Combs to bring his A game, and it's great to see two long-running guest stars get big scenes together, as he does with with Gary Graham when Shran tortures Soval. It's not the only noble moment for Soval either; he also demonstrates respect for Archer when he tells Trip that he's doing just what the "cap'n" would do, and that it's the right thing.

Archer is experiencing growth too, as he confesses that his experience with Surak has led him to understand why Vulcans suppress their emotions. He's able to walk T'Pol through a minefield of emotions about her mother in a way that she's able to hear. For her part, T'Pol comes to embrace the cause of the Vulcan rebels, and risks her life to aid them.

One element I don't love is how the episode picks up on the story line of the Vulcan stigma about mindmelds. That began as a Star Trek allegory for HIV, and while the storytellers mishandled some of the details, it felt like their hearts were in the right place. But here, we learn that skilled mindmelders can actually cure "Pa'nar syndrome" -- HIV and AIDS. It's quite the rapid wave of quite the magic wand, a simplistic way of backing away from the story line.

It's almost as quick as the dissolution of T'Pol's marriage. I suppose we were told quite directly that she only agreed to marry because of her mother's situation. Still, it seems surprising when a plot complication introduced only a few episodes ago is so unceremoniously resolved. I guess this is the easy Vulcan conflict resolution that I've been feeling the absence of in this trilogy's A story.

Other observations:

• Two decades before a memorable turn on Star Trek: Picard, Todd Stashwick appears here as Vulcan security stooge.

• ...who is revealed in the final scene of the episode to be a Romulan operative! This plays well for longtime Star Trek fans who have watched other series in the franchise, but it doesn't amount to much in the context of Enterprise alone. It makes V'Las, who already seemed irrational, appear weak as well for being so thoroughly manipulated.

Despite a few missteps, "Kir'Shara" is a fun ride. We get fist fights, neck pinches, and lirpas. We get epic space battles. And many of the characters get a chance to do some truly heroic things. So overall, I'll give this episode a B.