Movie Nation

“What Happened to Monday” is yet another dystopian spin on a future we are hellbent on refusing to avoid — overpopulated, polluted, climate-changed.

The formidable Noomi Rapace lends urgency, empathy and physical presence to what devolves from a smart, cerebral premise into something more conventional and illogical.

It’s a single-child-per-family future with the all the desperate, rational and draconian measures “society,” ordained by science, has taken to save the human race.

Yeah, “Handmaid’s Tale” and “Children of Men” and “Soylent Green” figure into this dark day that is frighteningly likely to come, with Glenn Close the overlord overseeing this “Future is Female.” And Yeah, her “Numbers add up” speech makes chilling sense.

Rapace plays seven identical siblings born into this world, hidden from it by assuming a single identity by their cunning and somewhat “selfish” grandfather (Willem Dafoe).

We see flashbacks that listen in on their grandfather’s lessons about “working collectively” and “selecting a career that takes advantage of your joint skills.” We see granddad preparing an apartment, Anne Frank Annex style, to secretly house one daughter plus six extras, drill them on hiding, tamper with government-issued ID bracelets to hide their numbers.

Each sister will leave the house only on the day of the week that corresponds to their name. Seven sisters, one identity — Karen Settman.

“The End of the Day Meeting” is how they debrief each other on what they encountered and how they keep their one story straight. Dinner time? A veritable smorgasbord of personality “types” bickering and belching, whining and biting into “bio-engineered” this or “genuine rat.”

At least Soylent Green isn’t on the menu.

“If we get this promotion, it’s all thanks to Friday.”

“Seven minds are better than one.”

Their adult life is seven widely different women — fearful or rebellious, violent or passive, sexpot or demure professional, tech nerd or violent head-butting brawler — sharing one look, one wardrobe and one career. Their doorman doesn’t realize the drunk he was talking to last night is not the put-together professional woman/adult he is dealing with today.

“They” have a nemesis at work, Jerry (Pål Sverre Hagen). And yeah, he says “I’m ONTO you.”

And one day, on the eve of a “big promotion,” Monday doesn’t come home. Run away, hurt in hospital, kidnapped and murdered? What do they do?

“I have a bad feeling about this” is just the start. Each sister must hunt for the missing one, piece together the clues, while carrying on, that day, as if nothing has happened. Everyone she encounters, from the doorman to the cops at checkpoints to the hated rival at the office could know something about Monday’s disappearance, could even be responsible for it. And now, here “Karen” is again.

Every encounter will be, as they say in the thriller game, “fraught with peril.” The six minds have to work together to save themselves and if possible, save Monday. And they still have to avoid Child Allocation Bureau thugs.

Rapace does a decent job managing every actress’ dream, the ultimate tour de force — seven disguises, seven personalities — even if even she seems embarrassed at having to call eac sister by her day/name every time one of them speaks to another.

The futurescape is the usual white on white interiors, chaotic, crowded exteriors, minivans dressed up in futuretech. Phones now throw their smart screens onto the palm of your hand from an implant on your wrist (No more texting and driving!).

But the plot takes an alarming turn toward the predictable and grows less interesting by the minute — the many MANY minutes — that follow it. In avoiding an “obvious” culprit the story cannot ignore the “obvious” quick end that would logically ensue by following the path taken.

“Mayhem” and slaughter ensue. In a society where “excess” children are put into humane “cryosleep” (so we’re told), it’s still a trigger-happy world.

“What Happened to Monday” becomes less an exercise in personalities, differing strengths dealing with a life-threatening mystery and more blandly conventional — chases, shootouts.

Visceral? Yeah. We’re talking Noomi Rapace, pound for pound the toughest actress in the movies, with or without a dragon tattoo. The violence is graphic and righteous and plentiful.

And as Rapace is involved, nudity and sex as well.

We get a gracenote, here and there, considering how circumscribed this sort of one-day-in-seven-outside life would be, even after 30 years of living. And sisters don’t share “everything.”

It’s rather less than the sum of its parts, but the action beats director Tommy Wirkola & Co. serve up ensure Rapace and “What Happened to Monday” keep punching above their weight.

MPAA Rating: TV-MA, adult themes, implied violence

Cast: Noomi Rapace, Glenn Close, Willem Dafoe, Marwan Kenzari

Credits:Directed by Tommy Wirkola, script by Max Botkin, Kerry Williamson. A Vendage/Netflix release.

Running time: 2:03

Richie Merritt might be the star, but Matthew M. is the patriarch, Bruce Dern and Piper Laurie raised him — not well, apparently — in this tail-end of disco tale of hustling your way to the top of the Drug Trade’s “Next Big Thing” in the Detroit of 1984.

Yeah, you saw Jennifer Jason Leigh in this trailer. You did. Eddie Marsan star in this late-September release, which might’ve bought some bigger “names” to play the black characters. Just an observation. Based on the trailer and the credits. 

It’s a remake of a little-seen “cult” 1977 horror film by Dario Argento and starring Jessica Harper.

Tilda Swinton is the artistic director, Dakota Johnson her star dancer and Chloe Grace Moretz is also in this November Luca Guadagnino film. 

The weirdest horror fans I’ve ever encountered were hardcore Dario Argento buffs. This promises to be smart and maybe a little sick.

Steve McQueen is years-removed from “Twelve Years A Slave,” and his latest has less of a social justice subtext than a gender parity one.

Liam Neeson and Jon Bernthal are among the husbands whose big money heist goes terribly wrong. Viola David, Michelle Rodriguez and Elizabeth Debicki are among the women they leave behind, who decide to follow through and keep the cash from the law and the bad sort who the money belonged to.

And if that’s not star-studded enough for you, try Colin Farrell and Robert Duvall and Jacki Weaver and Carrie Coon and Lukas Haas.

“Widows” opens Nov. 16.

British martial arts star Scott Adkins ventures into “Get Shorty” territory with “The Debt Collector,” a brute brawler of a B-movie, but a bloody-minded bore.

He plays “Frenchy,” owner of a “traditional” martial arts dojo that has him deep in hock. So he begs his partner (Michael Paré) to hook him up with a side hustle the partner squeezes in — debt collecting for hire.

Tommy (Vladimir Kulich) is the boss, not a “shylock” but a guy the underworld lenders contract to get their debts collected. Tommy pairs Frenchy up with Sue (Louis Mandylor  of the “Big Fat Greek Wedding” movies), a gruff alcoholic with a vintage Caddy and a grim attitude about the work.

He’s got a lot of rules for the “newbie” that first day. Remember to “think of these Johns as slabs of meat,” he counsels. “A little head butt” gets you in the door quicker than anything else.

He tosses “Frenchy” the keys with a “We drive on the right side of the road here,” and “watch my whitewalls,” and they’re off.

Every delinquent borrower has a gun, or enormous bodyguards. Sue and Frenchy punch their way through the seedy side of suburban LA, delivering bloody warnings, collecting cash and meting out “punishment” according to the numerical “level” Tommy has assigned each case — a slap around here, a kneecapping there.

It’s amoral work which has driven Sue to drink, but Frenchy supposedly still has some moral compass.

“Moral compass in this job is like a pinless hand grenade,” Sue growls. No, that makes no sense.

The banter is offhanded at times, groaning “So what’s YOUR story?” personal history at others. One power broker explains is unwillingness to repay his loan with “I’m parsimonious.”

He hears an English accent, he figures the guy’s educated. No, he’s ex-military, comfortable with making his living with violence. Sue? He used to do stunts and fights in movies and he’s constantly cracking “You know how things are in B-movies.”

We’re learning.

Adkins was in “Doctor Strange” and “The Expendables 2,” played bad guys or fighters in a Bourne picture here, an X-Men there. Mostly, he’s been adrift in a sea of Bs like this. Still, he’s got to know a thing or two about how important fight choreography is to a two-fisted action film.

Here, we see the choreography. We can count the swings and misses that lead to this pre-arranged takedown, that punch through a cardboard wall. That’s a no-no.

A strip club that looks like a rented storage unit with decorations from the local dollar store and strippers who look more like the real thing than the models who want to be actresses who adorn such scenes in pricier genre pictures also give away the game.

But stuntman turned director Jesse V. Johnson has notions he’s making art here. He intersperses random shots of cattle being raised, then shipped to the slaughterhouse.

“Slabs of meat” one and all.

The women in “Debt Collector” are here to be slapped around or treacherously drive the action as the duo makes its way to one subject whom a particularly villainous client (played by Candy Man Tony Todd) has marked for death.

It’s slow-moving and generally unpleasant, unless you want to see the bare bones of fight choreography exposed on screen, “one two three DUCK, one two KICK,” something much more commonplace in the action cinema’s past.

Adkins as a movie star? He’s interesting enough, but generic save for the accent. Mandylor has more presence and makes more out of a chewy supporting role.

Because like every movie martial arts star before him, Adkins is a bit too happy to dial back the hard work of fistfight scenes by picking up a gun. Usually, that’s a sign you’re Chuck Norris/Jean Claude Van Damme  — over-the-hill.

MPAA Rating: unrated, with explicit violence, sex, profanity

Cast: Scott Adkins, Louis Mandylor, Michael Paré, Vladimir Kulich, Tony Todd

Credits:Directed by Jesse V. Johnson, script by Stu Small and Jesse V. Johnson. An Archstone release.

Running time: 1:35

A glittering cast adorned in period-perfect Romanov-wear, and parked in sparkling upstate New York locations can’t quite make yet another Chekhov adaptation, yet another version of “The Seagull,” take flight.
As a sort of city sophisticates lord it over their country cousins dramedy, the subtext feels fresh and timely even if the stolid theatricality, the usual Chekhov clutter of characters and the weary collection of plot complications do not.

Annette Bening swans through this world as if her character owns it, as indeed Irina does. She is a celebrated actress, a wealthy diva, and she rarely lets a relative or a servant forget it.

But she’s all concern and charm when she rushes “home” to visit her brother and his brood in the country. Sorin, played with warm fatalism by Brian Dennehy, is failing. And surrounded by family, one and all flash back to an earlier summer visit, back when her temperamental son Konstantin (Billy Howle) was struggling to find his artistic voice and escape her shadow, when she brought her famous writer-paramour Boris Trigorin (Corey Stoll) to meet them all for the first time.

Comically querulous Masha (Elisabeth Moss) doesn’t bother to hide her drinking or her disdain for a would-be suitor (Michael Zegen).

“Why do you always wear black?”

“I’m in mourning…for my life!”

There’s Polina (Mare Winningham), Doctor Dorn (Jon Tenney) and Irina’s long-suffering manager (Glenn Fleschler from HBO’s “Barry”). And the center of this flashback is fair Nina, the neighbor girl whom Konstantin has made his muse. They will stage a play in the woods, for the family — well, for his mother.

But the inventive shadow puppets behind the curtain cannot save it as Nina (Saoirse Ronan) launches into the opening soliloquy — “Cold, cold! Empty, EMPTY! Horrible, MOST HORRIBLE!”

Mom cannot contain her mockery, and the central conflicts are laid bare — Konstantin’s mania for success in the arts dissolving into manic Mom-induced mood swings, heightened by her bringing along an accomplished writer to further lord it over him, Nina’s innocence tempted by the flattery of the famous actress and her flirtatious lover, and all the others, grousing in well-heeled, well-fed, well-dressed discontent.

“I ache all over, but the doctor won’t treat me.”

“You’re an old man!”

“Old men want to live!”

The dialogue, adapted here by Stephen Karam, still delights. Scenes between the adoring Nina and aloof, alluring Boris crackle.

“Let’s talk about my beautifully brilliant life. I must write. I must write. I must write.”

But this Michael Mayer (“Flicka,” “A Home at the End of the World”) film never escapes the Cinematic Chekhov Trap. It’s a breezy, lightly charming chore to sit through, and sit through it we must because it’s Chekhov and it’s good for us.

Actors love his plays for the characters, the dialogue and the chance to work with a LOT of their friends. College theater programs, which can afford to do shows with huge (unpaid) casts, are devoted to Chekhov and keep him as a cornerstone of an actor’s education for the same reason.

On the screen, a lot of that sense of “life” is lost. The films — endless remakes of “The Seagull,” “Three Sisters,” “The Cherry Orchard” and “Uncle Vanya” — take on that “important work” seriousness that hijacks one’s attention. We watch and we mull over what is said, the meaning and metaphors, the human profundities. But all too often, the movie never breaks free of “the play.”

“Seagull,” as radiantly self-absorbed as Bening can be, as self-serious as Howle and Stoll come off, as winsome as Ronan remains and as funny and cranky as Moss’s mastery of Masha might be, never quite adds up to an adaptation that’s anything more than “Well, we saw them do Chekhov.”

MPAA Rating:PG-13 for some mature thematic elements, a scene of violence, drug use, and partial

Cast: Annette Bening, Saoirse Ronan, Billy Howle, Corey Stoll, Brian Dennehy, Elisabeth Moss

Credits:Directed by Michael Mayer, script by Stephen Karam, based on the Anton Chekhov play. A Sony Pictures Classics release.

Running time:

Swinging London? Close enough, as the music, the fashions and the cars (an Aston Martin DB5!) migrated to the environs of a hapless lad (Brenock O’Connor of “Game of Thrones”) who falls for the right girl and the wrong football at about the same time.

“The Bromley Boys” just opened in the UK. Not sure when we’ll catch it in North America.

History seems to be the last refuge of films that challenge children with the ugly realities of life. Cinema for kids has long erred on the side of rubbing the sharp edges off to protect delicate youth and its sensibilities.

In other words, try to remake “Old Yeller” or “The Yearling” today, you’d get hashtagged out of polite, nurturing society.

But good children’s films have an easy acceptance of the bittersweet, an acknowledgement that even a story’s sad side teaches empathy, that there are times when it’s OK to cry at what’s happening on the screen.

“Zoo” is a warm, sentimental Irish period piece about some kids, an elephant and World War II. Its lessons include not judging people by appearances, that growing up requires passing tests of character and sometimes following your own morality and not what authority demands is how you do the right thing.

And in a time of war, death is never far removed from your life.

Tom (Art Parkinson) is a young Belfast teen who loves nothing more than helping Dad (Damian O’Hare), a vet at Bellevue Zoological Gardens. That’s how he’s the first kid in town to see the zoo’s newly-arrived baby elephant, despite the protestations of cranky security guard Charlie (Toby Jones).

But it’s 1941, Britain is hard-pressed, fighting the Germans and Italians pretty much on its own. Dad is called up.

“I’ll be coming home in no time” isn’t reassuring. And the new “apprentice vet” (Stephen Hagan) doesn’t like having the kid around.

Tom is bullied at school, but he hasn’t given up on the bully’s apprentice, Pete (Ian O’Reilly). And Tom is touched when his poorest classmate Jane (Emily Flain) sticks up for him. She’s ashamed of her drunken father and embarrassed by her clothes, but the least the lad can do is take her to her first-ever picture show.

It’s April of 1941, the darkest stretch of the war, and shipping and armaments industry Belfast is on the Germans’ target list. Air raids like the ones that have been pounding London for months would be devastating. Kids are trained in how to use gas masks, and in a real jaw-dropping moment, we see them herded into a smoke-filled van for “practice.”

But of all things, the authorities are worried about what might happen if “dangerous” zoo animals were to get out after a bombing.

The order goes out. “Shoot anything dangerous in the zoo.” Tom is inconsolable and powerless to stop it. But maybe, with a little help from some new friends, the elephant can be snatched and brought to safety.

The caper itself is a thinly-developed affair. “Zoo” is more about Tom’s “team.” He needs bully Pete, because he’s “strong.” Turns out, Pete is a bundle of fears and phobias, but Tom can make him brave. If not Tom, then Mickey (James Stockdale), Pete’s put-upon brother (he’s a dwarf) can buck them up.

Jane has inner resources the boys can only imagine.

And then there’s the neighborhood lady all the kids think is a witch, what with her dark shawl, testy demeanor and all the weird noises emanating from her house. Old Lady Austin, given a grumpy, mournful touch by Penelope Wilton of “Downton Abbey,” could be their secret weapon. Those noises in her house? They come from ferrets and parrots, bunnies and hedgehogs, snakes and who knows what all.

Mrs. Austin loves animals beyond measure, beyond reason, beyond the capacity of her packed, shuttered house and courtyard. One more couldn’t hurt, right? Two tons of fun and all that.

For all the kids and critters in this Colin McIvor (“Cup Cake”) film, there’s a gravitas and pallor to the proceedings. Cute moments don’t lighten the burden of confronting bullies and unreasonable, unbending authority, or the “Keep Calm and Carry On” stoicism of everyone’s awareness that “There’s a War On.”

Whatever happens with the caper, we know that tragedy is all around them and that it’s sure to intrude on this little blood pact the kids (and Mrs. Austin) make to save the elephant. When it comes, remember, there’s no dishonor in tears and remember to bring enough tissues for everybody.

The story here is “true,” in the broadest sense, which is why the film opens with that wriggle-room “Inspired by” real events credit. The Belfast air raids of 1941 were among the deadliest of the war, on the Allied side. Yes, animals were killed to “protect” the populace from their escaping the zoo, and yes, there was an “Elephant Angel” who sought to protect a pachyderm. 

The true story required some embellishment to make it into a kids’ film, and child-film length means that many relationships introduced get shortchanged.

But “Zoo” is a sweet and occasionally sad tale, told with sensitivity and performed with great charm by all concerned.

MPAA Rating: PG for thematic elements, some war action and language

Cast: Art Parkinson, Emily Flain, Penelope Wilton, Toby Jones and Ian O’Reilly

Credits: Written and directed by Colin McIvor. A Samuel Goldwyn release.

Running time: 1:37

“Solo: A Star Wars Story” is not quite tumbling behind “Deadpool 2” on its second weekend, “Deadpool’s” third. But it’ll certain fall behind it NEXT weekend, based on the absolute plunge it’s experiencing this weekend AFTER Memorial Day.

Based on Friday’s numbers, Deadline.com is figuring $28 million is all the patchwork “Solo” will manage on its second weekend. This, after an underwhelming opening. That’s a 77% drop, weekend to weekend.

In graphic box office terms, that’s what we call a TPPP — a “Tyler Perry Picture Plummet.”

“Pool” is losing theaters and dropping off a not-quite-robust 50% or so per weekend, but “Solo” will struggle to clear $200, at this juncture.

Maybe it’s just a mediocre movie — damaged goods — and word of mouth is chasing folks off. Maybe Disney has simply oversaturated the market with “Star Wars.”

That’s certainly part of the reason “Deadpool 2” isn’t dazzling the accountants at Fox. Three comic book movies in theaters basically at the same time, one of them R-rated, is just creating comic book fatigue.

Or maybe the Mouse will take the lesson that the Luke-Leia-Han “Star Wars” storyline is finished and that letting J.J. Abrams & Co. kill it off is as it should be. No “Boba Fett” picture, no more “Solo,” nothing else with the original crew. Sorry, Darth Maul. Might be the wrong lesson, but I could see that one taking root. “Rogue One” wasn’t a big box office performer, in “Star Wars” terms, either. Even though it was the best SW movie since “Empire.” 

Shailene Woodley can open a movie. That’s the lesson of “Adrift.” No, it’s not sailboat folks like myself driving “Adrift” to a healthy $12 million opening weekend. Her years cashing “Divergent” checks made her bankable, I guess (terrible movies, based on crappy YA novels) as did TV’s “Big Little Lies.” A conventional “lost at sea” narrative, with a love story buttressing it (Sam Claflin) it, Woodley took a producing credit on “Adrift” and it’s gotten decent reviews (mine is fairly representative of the mainstream) and might have done even better had STX put a little effort in promoting it — like PREVIEWING IT for critics.

Blumhouse’s horror outing “Upgrade” isn’t finding an audience. At all. Lots of screens, only $4 million on its opening weekend. Bomb.

“Action Point” isn’t funny, Johnny Knoxville can’t hair-dye his way into another 10 years of “Jackass” stunts and the picture, largely filmed in South Africa, includes animal mishandling pranks to the point where it’s another of those pictures where you wonder if the “American Humane” credit at the end is BS.

And it’s bombing. Not even $2 million.