Back in 2012, 9.79* aired as part of ESPN’s 30 for 30 franchise. Daniel Gordon’s film focused on the 100-meter final at the Seoul Olympics, a race that was dominated by Ben Johnson, who then abdicated the crown after a positive steroid test, leaving Carl Lewis as the desultory victor.

In an era oversaturated with sports documentaries, the closest we came to a doc focused on Lewis, among the greatest track and field stars ever, was one that was really about The Other Guy.

Even after his career-ending long-jump victory at the Atlanta Olympics offered an opportunity for people to embrace Lewis fully, he was still seen as somewhere between unlikable and unknowable.

That contention is finally put to the test in Julie Anderson and Chris Hay‘s new feature documentary I’m Carl Lewis! 

Premiering at SXSW, I’m Carl Lewis! gives Lewis his due as an athlete. But more than that, it paints a portrait of a man who was decades ahead of his time as an advocate against the arbitrarily enforced “amateurism” of Olympic sports; who was criticized as brash and arrogant just years before those attitudes would be recoded as “confident”; who defied gender norms and paid the price in public perception. 

Regarding Lewis’ knowability, he still comes across as only as forthcoming as he wants to be, and you can sense Anderson and Hay nudging up against the limitations of Lewis’ warmth. But it’s easy to see the double standards — most of them racially coded — that harmed his image.

It’s easiest to chronicle Lewis’ athletic success and I’m Carl Lewis! takes a strictly, slightly blandly, chronological approach stretching across his four Olympiads, starting with the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics, in which Lewis equalled Jesse Owens with four marquee golds.

The doc follows his two decades of unprecedented dominance with spotlights on the 1988 showdown with Johnson (who doesn’t appear in the film) and his legendary 1991 World Championships long-jumping battle with Mike Powell (interviewed enthusiastically), which saw both men threaten Bob Beamon’s long-held record.

There’s ample tremendous footage of Lewis at work, emphasizing his grace and dominance. There’s also ample footage of Lewis meeting with reporters, allowing us to see the combative attitude (on both sides, since plenty of journalists come off every bit as poorly) that denied Lewis some of the public-facing opportunities a performer of his profile should have received.

With distant hindsight and the 63-year-old Lewis’ current candor, the directors reposition what was presented as “confrontational” back in the ’80s. 

Was Lewis primarily obsessed with money or was he pushing back against a system that carved the pie up to benefit organizers and sponsors? It’s easiest to see what a threat Lewis was to the status quo through sniveling archival interviews with dismissive Madison Avenue types from back in the ’80s, along with current interviews from Lewis’ contemporaries crediting him with opening doors. Is the documentary able to make direct connections between Lewis’ outspoken support of getting paid and eventual changes to the infrastructure of the sport? Probably not.

It’s much easier to see Lewis’ impact on keeping the sport drug-free, as he was hardly coy in accusing Johnson of doping long before there was evidence, and the doc isn’t shy about admitting to and clearing up Lewis’ own pre-Olympics positive drug test from 1988 (not that anything he clears up wasn’t in the public record 30+ years ago).

You can see how carefully Anderson and Hay want to handle Lewis’ sexuality, which was the subject of speculation and slurs in his prime.

“Carl didn’t act in the traditional, hyper-masculine way that Black men were expected to, and that’s part of what made him threatening to some people and empowering to other people,” commentator Keith Boykin says of his friend.

I don’t think the documentary is successful at illustrating that last part — how Lewis really empowered anybody. Yes, he opened up the door for today’s athletes proudly serving lewks on the red carpets that have become a key facet of 21st century sports. But where was the empowerment in Lewis’ aggressive denials at the time that he was gay? He isn’t much more candid today, nor is he introspective about the way he handled those claims. Nor is the documentary able to illustrate if Lewis’ penchant for eye-liner, homoerotic pop videos and flamboyant bodysuits gave him support in a gay community of the ’80s starved for public representation that he didn’t embrace.

In his current interviews, he’s more playfully evasive, speaking proudly of his famous Pirelli ad in red stilettos and critiquing nude portraits he commissioned at the time. He seems happy today, as he relaxes in his hot tub or walks the filmmakers around his small orchard or enjoys a birthday party with friends and family. Whether there were situations he could have handled differently or slurs he could have addressed in different ways apparently doesn’t matter here. The documentary is more about what society owed Carl Lewis than what Carl Lewis owes society at this point.

I’m Carl Lewis! reminded me most of Alex Stapleton’s Reggie, an Amazon documentary that made me entirely reexamine my perspective on Reggie Jackson — especially the ways the narratives about him were crafted at the time and who was allowed to craft those narratives. This doesn’t offer as full an overhaul for Lewis, but it’s effective in underlining his athletic greatness.

Set in South L.A. somewhere in the not too near future, “Oh My God … Yes!” — subtitled not without reason “A Series of Extremely Relatable Circumstances” — is the devilish Afro-futurist surrealist animated action series you didn’t know you were waiting for. It premieres with two episodes Sunday on Adult Swim, home of the odd and sometimes, but not always, offensive.

Created by Adele “Supreme” Williams (“My Dad the Bounty Hunter”), it takes the “girlfriends in the city” premise and adds humanoid robots, anthropomorphic animals and gayliens (that’s “gay aliens,” their preferred term) to the cast, and spices up the action with apocalyptic violence, satanists, a teeth-pulling game show host and robots that on the basis of a glitchy video are determined to fulfill a prophecy from “the late, great rapper, turned martyr, who for some reason we revere as a god, Tupic [sic],” who they believe has instructed them to eat the rich. (The sonorous Keith David plays their leader.)

Sunny (Williams), Tulip (DomiNque Perry) and Ladi (Xosha Roquemore, Tamra from “The Mindy Project”) are our ordinary heroines, built on superhero frames (with a touch of Don Bluth, to my eye). Without much effort, one might find them vaguely analogous to the Powerpuff Girls: Tulip, the Bubbles, sweet, childlike, given to fits; pistol-packing Ladi, the Buttercup, more than ready for a fight; and Sunny (a “noted influencer”), the Blossom, if Blossom were less competent and more interested in money, and if they were not out to save the world, but only themselves — though in doing the latter, they might do the former. (And if they drank.)

Each episode runs 11 minutes, the classic length of the old Popeye and Bugs Bunny and Road Runner theatrical shorts — brief enough to not wear out an idea, long enough to express one, but timed to keep the gags coming fast. And like those shorts, in which characters were continually being pummeled, flattened, shot, blown up, run over and the like, “Oh My God” dives into “cartoon violence,” if more graphic and disturbing in the execution. Sex isn’t new to animation either if you know your gartered Betty Boop or the tongue-flapping Tex Avery Wolf; that sort of thing, too, is more explicitly expressed everywhere in the pop culture nowadays, as it is here. You’ll know your tolerance for either, and no shame if it is low.

The series is very much in the Adult Swim house style, where the extraordinary is stirred in with the extraordinarily banal, going back to “Space Ghost Coast to Coast,” “Aqua Teen Hunger Force” and “Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law,” forward to “Metalocalypse” and “The Venture Bros.” and “Lazor Wulf” (a sort of slacker cousin to “Oh My God”). A line like, “The people of South Central will never embrace your Antichrist,” perfectly captures that aesthetic — you might even call it a philosophy. Certainly it is inspiring in its way.

For beyond such concepts as a President Vending Machine (feels timely), a badly rapping “Fervid Idealist Eating Hornswoggle” spider (Is that an acronymic reference to the Swedish neo-soul band Fieh? It seems unlikely, but not impossible.), a push broom boyfriend, a removable uterus, a “closure cookie” that instead of delivering closure only makes you want closure more and turns you into a monster in the bargain, the series is grounded in relationships and (somewhat extreme) feelings. Friendship, family, love, grief, self-acceptance — these concerns make it real, not just really strange.

We are back. The popcorn movie season can officially begin with “Mickey 17” and for many fun reasons. Firstly and most importantly, it is the newest contribution of the award winning Bong Joon-ho since his critically acclaimed “Parasite” which was a sweeping success. Joon-ho returns with his craftsmanship efforts as writer and director of “Mickey 17” with great tools at his disposal. Those tools include a great and charismatic cast that displays a kinetic Robert Pattinson (and Robert Pattinson and Robert Pattinson and Robert Pattinson) along with Naomi Ackie, Toni Collette, and Mark Ruffalo. With a fun, talented cast and a big budget in place, could Bong Joon-ho continue his excellent track record? Yeah, he can.

“Mickey 17” is in no way capable of bringing what “Parasite” did for audiences and that’s okay. M17 is a notable, sci-fi adaptation that unapologetically has fun with its ideas and cast. Even when everything does not land so smoothly, “Mickey 17” is a great way to ignite 2025 for cinema and kicks off the Spring movie season.

Robert Pattinson and Robert Pattinson and Robert Pattinson

As mentioned above, “Mickey 17” has a cast that has an absolute blast. That rhymed. Leading the charge is the fantastic Robert Pattinson who shoulders most of the weight here with physical comedy and well shaded pathos. Personally, I have not read the novel of which this is adapted from, but Pattinson really fleshes out the character of Mickey Barnes and instantly hooks you with his layered acting. What he does here is mightily impressive and he continues to show why he is on the rise to stardom.

After Pattinson’s lead, we have a wonderful collection of silly character acting that lands well within the tonal context of the movie. Bong Joon-ho hails a very funny screenplay that is supported by the efforts of the entire cast as they lean into the entertaining premise. Most notably Mark Ruffalo and Toni Collette who provide hilarity in the form of the source materials hyperbolic political commentary and fun acting decisions that come across as positively silly. They are having a blast on screen together and are highlights throughout the runtime. Naomi Ackie continues to be a very noteworthy presence and Steven Yeun is preposterously good at being a smarmy prick.

We aren’t provided with the powerhouse performances that is prevalent in most Bong Joon-ho pictures, and that’s intentional and okay. Tonally, “Mickey 17” is a dark comedy that is amplified with its very charismatic acting and directing.

Some Rocket Ships Land, Some Don’t

Not everything is perfect with “Mickey 17” as there are some flaws with its structure and ideas. Bong Joon-ho can polish shit into diamonds as he is an extremely talented auteur and, of course, that flashes throughout the film. Joon-ho, for the most part, does a good job establishing the world building and harnesses its absurdity into some well directed moments and set pieces. At times the movie lacks the discipline that he showcases in his other work, but quite possibly not by his own doing. I suspect with the numerous reshoots and delays that the studio had their input and affected the outcome of “Mickey 17.” That is logical considering it’s the biggest budget ever handed to Joon-ho, but the movie is lacking restraint at times that I wish it was displayed. Several moments could’ve been savored and developed more with deliberate pacing.

“Mickey 17” is almost never boring, but the last act drags as it is running on the fumes of its own ideas that may feel regurgitated and mainstream. The commentary comes from a good and well intended place, but it begins to grow stale as it overshadows other interestingly tragic aspects that are never fully cooked. Even Robert Pattinson is shelved a bit and that mistake is felt throughout the third act. It felt as if the movie got lost in its own sauce.

Verdict

The verdict is that you should go and see “Mickey 17” in theaters as soon as you can. Bong Joon-ho showcases an energetic sci-fi black comedy with engaging world building that includes an explosively fun premise. Robert Pattinson builds his leading actor resume even more with his endearing portrayal of Mickey Barnes and captures the spotlight in an unassailable manner. The supporting cast leans in on the tonality and are clearly having a blast on screen which is translated entertainingly well.

The issues with “Mickey 17” lie within the slowness of the last act and its ideas that feel so rehashed and one dimensional. Though the political commentary is hilarious and objectively agreeable, it is joined by other stale subtext that overshadows other interesting aspects that never get a chance to fully blossom.

Bottom line; “Mickey 17” is a very fun time at the cinema. It kicks off popcorn movie season and it unapologetically doesn’t move mountains. Do not expect Joon-ho’s next masterclass that will sweep award season. This is just big budget, dark fun. Nothing more, nothing less. And we think that’s fun!

For more movie and pop culture related things, head over to Apollo HOU.

Watch Movies.