The premise

Make no mistake. Unstoppable is very likeable and ultimately packs an emotional wallop. It has all the ingredients to make an amazing genre entry, but it stays so expectedly overwrought in its own formula that the story rarely takes shape. Marking the directorial debut of Oscar-winning Argo editor William Goldenberg, and produced by Ben Affleck, Unstoppable features a fierce central performance from Jharrel Jerome as Anthony, and an equally impressive supporting turn from Jennifer Lopez as his mother Judy. However, the film feels too caught up trying to impress, too one-note to add any texture to these characters to make them feel more than what they are offered on screen.

Unstoppable starts off with Anthony’s final years in high school, where he impresses with his agile moves in the match. His mother roots for him to excel, and his coach (Michael Peña) supports his dreams. But back home, he has to deal with his abusive stepfather (Bobby Cannavale), which amounts to his anxieties about his next steps. Should he take the offer of a full college scholarship at Drexel or pursue at Iowa, where he believes the best wrestlers go? During his search, his way will lead to coach Shawn Charles (Don Cheadle), whose push will keep Anthony striving for more.

What works

The tone and texture of Unstoppable are unabashedly formulaic and one-note, which feels like the film is deliberately trying to tell such an uplifting story in a Wikipedia-ish fashion. Scenes set in Anthony’s home are tough, so we get a montage scene next, and then we return to the house for more revelations through a short flashback. This tried-and-tested trick fails to add any support to the material.

Still, the film moves ahead and works in several parts thanks to the committed performances of its cast. Jharrel’s central turn is intense and physical, but his bond with his mother forms the core of this film. Lopez tries hard to salvage her scenes with roughly overdone dialogues and succeeds largely. If 2019’s Hustlers was not enough proof, Unstoppable is yet another reminder that Lopez can very well bring in the acting chops when required: she just needs to experiment with better scripts.

Final thoughts

Even though the end is predictable, Unstoppable does manage to get there with some saving grace and emotion. The wrestling scenes are well choreographed and shot, even as the overtly melodramatic score comes in the way at several points. Unstoppable is loud and unsubtle, often undone in its all-knowing attitude. Because the subject itself is so revelatory and poignant, the film ultimately wins you over with its truth. It manages to be quite effective and moving. What it required was a little more consideration, a slight pause to stand beside this human being and watch him tackle so many obstacles. Just watching is, in many ways, akin to empathy.

Unstoppable is now available to stream on Prime Video.

Decimated by fire season, it seems impossible that the Los Angeles area could even begin to think about awards season.

As fires that have killed at least 25 and destroyed thousands of homes and businesses continue to burn, the idea of glitzy red carpets, brimming swag bags and arguments over who should have won best picture feel like they belong to another time, another world.

The heart of the entertainment industry is devastated, literally and emotionally, and the true extent of the damage won’t be known for months. So it’s not surprising that some have called for the upcoming Grammys and Oscars to be canceled.

Is now really the time to contemplate celebrities flaunting borrowed diamonds and haute couture, delivering emotional speeches while clutching coveted statuary?

Yes. Yes it is.

In recent days, many guilds and organizations, including the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, have postponed nomination announcements and delayed or canceled other January events. The Recording Academy, however, announced that the Grammys will take place, as scheduled, at L.A.’s Crypto.com Arena on Feb. 2 — with, as Recording Academy and MusiCares Chief Executive Harvey Mason Jr. and Board of Trustees chair Tammy Hurt wrote in a letter to members, “a renewed sense of purpose: raising additional funds to support wildfire relief efforts and honoring the bravery and dedication of first responders who risk their lives to protect ours.”

And despite a recent erroneous report in the British press, the Oscars will be following suit.

“After consultation with ABC, our board, and other key stakeholders in the Los Angeles and film communities, we have made the carefully considered decision to proceed with the 97th Oscars ceremony as planned on March 2nd,” Academy Chief Executive Officer Bill Kramer said in a statement to The Times.

“This year’s ceremony will include special moments acknowledging those who fought so bravely against the wildfires. We feel that we must go forward to support our film community and to use our global platform to bring attention to these critical moments in our history.”

The academy, he said, will continue to monitor the situation closely.

“The spirit of Los Angeles and our film community has always been one of resilience, and the Oscars represent not just a celebration of film, but the industry’s strength and unity in the face of adversity.”

For some, the ability of these awards shows to help raise money for the many in need is the best argument for them to take place. But, as Kramer points out, there are other compelling reasons as well.

Whether you like them or not, the Oscars and the Grammys remain important rituals, dependable moments in time around which Los Angeles, the country and indeed the world regularly gather. To celebrate or deride, it doesn’t matter. They are a fixed part of our cultural conversation and calendar year — and as we discovered during the COVID-19 pandemic, the absence of such rituals only adds to the sense of powerlessness and demoralization that accompanies any crisis.

It’s difficult to imagine asking those who have lost their homes to put on a tux or shimmy into foundation garments, but never before will a sea of famous faces be seen as such an act of defiance.

Despite dwindling ratings, the Oscars is the most-watched awards show in the world; its trophy remains the ultimate icon of success. Though postponed and rescheduled several times in its 94-year history, the Oscars have never been canceled. Not during war or plague, not after assassination or the 9/11 attacks. To do so now would send a message diametrically opposed to the historic resiliency of both the city and the industry it represents.

We must always celebrate the work that unites and defines us, makes us laugh, cry, think and aspire. Especially in the midst of tragedy.

And that work must continue despite the destruction and grief. The fires are only the latest blow to many already struggling to find work, make the rent, feed the kids. For almost five years, the entertainment industry has been beset, first by the pandemic, then by the writers’ and actors’ strikes and the constriction that followed.

The economy of every awards season, even one muted or modified to reflect national trauma or local devastation, is critical to thousands of people. To those involved in the nominated works, the studios that produce them and the shows themselves — it takes roughly 1,000 people to put on the Oscars, not counting presenters and guests — of course. But also to the hotel workers, florists, restaurants, construction crews, cab drivers, stylists, seamstresses, rental companies, cleaners — the number of people required to mount, oversee and break down these enormous events is incalculable.

Including all the press involved. The crucial fire coverage you have been reading in The Times and other outlets is paid for, in part, by awards season advertising.

It may seem cruel and impossible to expect Los Angeles to pull herself together and start throwing nationally televised parties in a matter of weeks. But I know this city. In the the 30-plus years I’ve lived here, I’ve watched her endure fire, flood, plague, civil unrest and a 6.7 earthquake that flattened houses and broke freeways in half.

Like the steel jacaranda she is, Los Angeles will never surrender. She will weep for what is lost. And then she will dry her eyes, fish out a few glad rags, throw on a little makeup and get a blowout.. She will stand, straight-backed in the rubble, greeting guests and passing out Champagne in broken tea cups with a smile so dazzling that no one will even notice anything’s amiss.

So use the Oscar and the Grammy telecasts to raise money and awareness. Suggest that those businesses in the habit of giving A-listers exclusive goodies donate to fire relief instead. Acknowledge and honor all that the industry, the front-line workers and the city have endured with a more sober ceremony — though not too sober, because God knows we could use a laugh. Just don’t talk about how they should be canceled altogether. That would make a bad situation only worse.

The show is here, just as it’s always been. And now more than ever, the show must go on.

Movie Review

It’ll be good for us.

So Blake Lovell tells his go-getter wife, Charlotte, when he suggests they leave the city and spend a summer in Oregon.

They’ve had a rough time of it lately. Blake, a writer, is between jobs right now—and that means he’s been a full-time dad to their daughter, Ginger. That’s been great; the two of them have never been closer.

But that also makes Charlotte, an ambitious journalist with an eye on deadlines and a hunger for the front page, a familial third wheel.

While Blake makes dinner, Charlotte’s arguing with her editor. While Blake takes Ginger out for ice cream, Charlotte runs after the latest scandal. And while that’s great for Charlotte’s career and all, Charlotte feels less like Ginger’s mom and more like a houseguest—and not an always welcome one at that. She and Blake are arguing more than ever. And if the couple keeps following this trajectory, they won’t be a couple much longer.

A trip to Oregon might be just the ticket, Blake feels, to heal these long-festering issues.

After all, he’ll need to go to Oregon anyway. His long-missing father has finally been officially declared dead by the state. Blake needs to pack up the old family house and tie up loose ends.

So he thinks, why don’t they all go? Spend some time together? After all, Charlotte can work from anywhere. Or, hey, she could even take a vacation for once. No harm getting reacquainted with your husband and daughter, right? Plus, it’s beautiful there. The views never get old.

Sure, Blake might’ve downplayed just how remote this corner of Oregon was. Internet? You’ll be lucky to have power. And he never even thinks to dredge up some less-idyllic childhood memories; ones that left his granite-tough father trembling. Ones about a monster in the woods.

Blake had long waved away such legends. Monster? Pish.

But then, as he drives a moving van carrying his small family, someone—something—appears in the headlights. The van careens off the road and tumbles through trees, precariously coming to a stop in the branches of one of them. Charlotte and Ginger scamper to relative safety. But the thing swipes at Blake before he can do the same. The attack takes less time than an eye blink—so fast that when Blake sees the blood on his arm, he assumes he must’ve suffered a cut from the glass.

Charlotte looks at the jagged wound, and she knows it’s not a simple cut. Nope, that thing took a chunk out of Blake’s arm. And who knows what sort of bacteria that creature was carrying. Rabies? Tetanus? Best get Blake to a doctor, pronto.

She’s right to be worried. Blake is infected—but not by something a doctor can treat with a shot or antibiotics.

The trip to Oregon? It’ll be good for us, Blake promised.

But that might not be a promise that Blake can keep.