THE FOREIGNER

MARK FELT

1/2 PG-13, 103 minutes. Starts Friday at Niantic. As a lifetime Federal Bureau of Investigation agent and No. 2 to J. Edgar Hoover, Mark Felt was not exactly an ordinary man, but he was, it seems, a highly unlikely candidate to topple a presidency. Felt was the man behind Deep Throat, the Watergate whistleblower who led Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein to the explosive truth behind that break-in. He lived only as a shadowy mystery in the popular imagination until he gave up his longheld secret in 2005, a few years before he died. By then what he represented had already transcended anything an actual human could live up to. It’s not a surprise then that the fictionalized telling of his story in “Mark Felt: The Man Who Brought Down the White House “is a little underwhelming. The mundanities of the truth could hardly be as sexy as decades of intrigue and mythology enshrined in history and the enduring greatness of “All the President’s Men.” But director Peter Landesman (“Concussion”) and star Liam Neeson nonetheless manage to weave together a fairly compelling (if disputed ) tick-tock of how it all went down from Felt’s purview. And it all started with a slight. We’re introduced to Felt in his ordinary suburban home, getting ready for another day of work at the Bureau. He’s a tall and soft-spoken man who hides the dirty secrets of the country, and his organization, behind a stoic poker face. A few characters at the outset tell him (read: us) how loyal and reliable and competent he is — a “golden retriever” for whomever is in power. When J. Edgar Hoover dies, Felt is passed over for that top position in favor of Nixon favorite L. Patrick Gray (Marton Csokas) — a mighty snub that sows the seed of discontentment in Felt. A little over a month after Hoover’s death is when those five men are arrested for breaking into the Democratic National Committee headquarter in the Watergate complex. The peculiar facts of the case raise eyebrows at the FBI, but then the White House starts attempting to interfere with what should be an independent inquiry. So Felt takes it upon himself go another route — to the press. As Felt, Neeson is understated and convincing despite his tendency to drift in and out of his native Irish accent. The film is at its best when it is dealing with the central story, which can also at times feel like a bit of a repetitive slog. Felt’s fellow agents are not much more than suits, distinguishable only by the fact that they’re portrayed by recognizable actors (Josh Lucas, Tony Goldwyn, Ike Barinholtz, Brian d’Arcy James) and while the day-to-day of what was happening at the FBI is a compelling slice of history, as a film it can feel a little dry. — Lindsey Bahr, Associated Press

PROFESSOR MARSTON AND THE WONDER WOMEN

R, 108 minutes. Starts tonight at Westbrook, Lisbon. 2017 was the year we collectively fell for Wonder Woman on the big screen. Propelled by cultural tides, embodied by Gal Gadot, she was the hero we so badly needed. On the heels of Patty Jenkins’ blockbuster, be prepared to fall in love with Wonder Woman all over again, thanks to the wonderfully sensitive and insightful superheroine origin story “Professor Marston and the Wonder Women,” written and directed by Angela Robinson. Robinson maps the psychology of Wonder Woman onto the life story of her creator, Dr. William Moulton Marston (played by Luke Evans), who led a very unconventional life for his time. A dashing Radcliffe psychology professor with a headstrong, genius wife, Elizabeth (Rebecca Hall), Marston encounters a beautiful undergrad, Olive (Bella Heathcote), in class, who becomes their assistant, friend and confidant. It’s through their psychology research into human emotion, and theories of dominance and submission, that the trio open up to each other (while testing lie detector prototypes), and fall in love. Marston declares that these two together are the perfect woman — Elizabeth is bold, smart, unfiltered and funny, while Olive is soft, guileless and pure of heart. Once they buck tradition, convention and “normalcy” to build a life as a threesome, it’s only a matter of time before their sex life takes on a new dimension, thanks to some lessons at the local sex shop, and they delight in role play and light bondage. His inspirational light bulb for the comic book is the wonderful women at home, and he draws on their traits and experiences to create the iconic female superhero. — Katie Walsh, Tribune Content Agency

HAPPY DEATH DAY

PG-13, 96 minutes. Starts tonight at Waterford, Stonington, Westbrook, Lisbon. “Happy Death Day,” the story of a woman who’s caught in an endless loop of her own death, follows in the footsteps of “Get Out” by taking familiar elements from the horror genre but delivering the scares with more wit, wisdom and wonder. It starts with Tree Gelbman (Jessica Rothe), a sorority sister in desperate need of some sensitivity training, waking up in a strange college dorm room. Her meeting with the dorm’s occupant, the sweet and naïve Carter Davis (Israel Broussard), is the start of a string of humiliating moments magnified by it being Tree’s birthday. Her suffering comes to an end when a man dressed in all black wearing a baby face mask attacks and kills her. Tree wakes the next morning (that’s really the same morning) with a major sense of déjà vu and, ultimately, a murderous end to her day. It only takes Tree three or four times of being killed before she realizes that until she figures out the identity of her killer, the day will continue to repeat. But each time Tree awakens, she’s a bit weaker. The real killer here (figuratively speaking) is that the suspect list is massively long because of Tree’s lack of caring for anyone but herself. This is where “Happy Death Day” takes a different approach to the genre. Scott Lobdell’s script features many tropes from the horror film world. It starts with the central figure of Tree, a beautiful blonde who always seems to be wearing the wrong shoes to run away from her killer. But in a twist, she ends up being both the victim and savior in this story. — Rick Bentley, Tribune Content Agency R, 114 minutes. Starts tonight at Waterford, Stonington, Westbrook, Lisbon. Legendary action star and martial arts maestro Jackie Chan gets his “Taken” moment with the terrorism thriller “The Foreigner,” written by David Marconi, directed by frequent

Bond director Martin Campbell. Chan co-stars as a man seeking vengeance for the death of his daughter in a bloody London bombing. His counterpart is a grizzled former 007 himself, Pierce Brosnan, growling his way into a meaty and morally ambiguous role as former IRA member and Irish Deputy Minister Liam Hennessy, attempting to politick his way around the aftermath of the bombing, which is claimed by a rouge IRA cell. Adapted from Stephen Leather’s novel “The Chinaman,” “The Foreigner” is only so-titled because the alternative would have caused an outcry. Chan’s character Quan Ngoc Minh is mostly referred to as “the Chinaman” throughout, even though he’s ethnically Vietnamese. Despite its literary origins, the film feels a bit like a writer tossed a few darts at a board labeled with aging action stars and various terrorist groups and just decided to make it work. Jackie Chan vs. the Irish Republican Army? That could work. What’s next: Bruce Willis vs. ETA? Jean-Claude Van Damme takes on Aum Shinrikyo? Chan’s role is brooding, serious and simple. He wants names. Names of those responsible for his daughter’s death. Rebuffed by the police and government, he relies on his old bag of tricks, developed in the jungles of Vietnam, honed by U.S. Special Forces. Chan, now in his 60s, isn’t the energetic tornado of whirling kicks and punches he once was, but he’s still got it. His fighting style in the film is brutish, resourceful and extremely effective. Brosnan is the talker, deploying his suaveness, talking out of both sides of his mouth to British politicians and his cabal of former (or are they?) IRA militants. — Katie Walsh, Tribune Content Agency