Reel Views, Review

Licorice Pizza

Let’s get this out of the way right at the top: Licorice Pizza is not about a pernicious pizzeria that tops their pies with the twisty black or red confection. Instead, the title of Paul Thomas Anderson’s latest masterwork refers to a defunct chain of record shops that circulated around southern California in the early 1970s. Though the film’s original title, Soggy Bottom, is referenced more explicitly in the film, Licorice Pizza is the kind of west coast callback that falls in line with the “if you know, you know” vibe that Anderson evokes through this expertly-made hangout movie. Sprinkled with facsimiles of Hollywood titans from William Holden to Lucille Ball, this is a trip through San Fernando Valley that feels too real to be entirely fictitious but magical enough to convince us that something ineffable really existed in that time and place.

Based loosely on the teenage exploits of film producer Gary Goetzman, Licorice Pizza stars Cooper Hoffman as Gary Valentine, a 15-year-old actor who always has his eyes on the next project before the current one is completed. He meets Alana (Alana Haim) while waiting in line to have his school picture taken and feels an immediate connection. It isn’t exactly love at first sight for Alana, who’s older and seemingly wiser than the cherubic but indefatigable Gary, but the two remain friends as they see what life has in store for them. Set across rolling hills of endless opportunity, Gary and Alana navigate entrepreneurship and emotional insecurity while well-known figures like the imprudent producer Jon Peters (Bradley Cooper) and up-and-coming politician Joel Wachs (Benny Safdie) pop in along the way.

Recalling both the off-kilter romanticism of Punch-Drunk Love and madcap episodic nature of the inscrutable but atmospheric Inherent Vice, Anderson once again casts a spell of winsome unpredictability more successfully than any other director working today. Refining the cinematography chops he established brilliantly in his previous Phantom Thread, he works this time with Michael Bauman to establish a lovely but lived-in look that mirrors the dust one might brush off their favorite LP before taking it for a spin. The camera often chases breathlessly after these young hopefuls as they search for their place in the Valley and in the world, like pinballs bouncing gleefully off the colorful bumpers that manifest before them.

Though the cast is filled out by veterans and familiar faces, the lead duo enters Licorice Pizza with no prior feature acting credits to their names. Hoffman, son of the late Anderson regular Philip Seymour Hoffman, gives Valentine a devious charm that works on nearly everyone but seems to stop short when Alana is at her most prickly. Haim, supported in the film by her real-life sisters and parents, presents the cynicism of a twentysomething unsatisfied with how her dreams fell short but still determined to seek out her watershed moment. Together, the two are absolutely electric, sporting a playful energy and seesaw repartee that makes the most of Anderson’s already lively screenplay. We don’t know how or when they’ll end up together but we know we’ll want to be there the moment it happens.

As it turns out, there are quite a number of vignettes that play out before that moment and I was completely taken with nearly all of them. Most of the asides and non-sequiturs follow Anderson’s idiosyncratic and indelible sense of humor. For instance, Gary and Alana meet with a casting director who interrupts Alana’s wayward interview by picking up a ringing phone and proceeds with a minute-long conversation in which she merely utters “no” three times with varying inflections before hanging up the receiver. There’s a hushed sequence with an out-of-gas moving truck floating down the Hollywood Hills that was more exhilarating than any car chase I’ve seen this year. Exuberant and eccentric, Licorice Pizza is a slice of life tale of two young souls who spin their wheels in every direction until they finally move in sync.

Score – 4.5/5

More movies to watch this weekend:
Streaming on Netflix is The Lost Daughter, a psychological drama starring Olivia Colman and Dakota Johnson about A woman who finds herself becoming obsessed with another woman and her daughter while on a summer holiday.
Continuing its run in theaters is A Journal for Jordan, a Denzel Washington-directed drama starring Michael B. Jordan and Chanté Adams about a fallen US Army Sergeant and the journal he left behind for his wife and son as a way of moving on without him.
Also still playing in theaters is American Underdog, a sports biopic starring Zachary Levi and Anna Paquin about the life and career of Super Bowl MVP and Hall of Fame quarterback Kurt Warner.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Podcast

Ep. #62 – Spider-Man: No Way Home/2021 IFJA Awards

I’m joined by my friends and IFJA colleagues Nick and Andy via Zoom as we spin some thoughts on Spider-Man: No Way Home, the latest MCU spectacle now playing only in theaters. Also check out Andy’s written review of the movie. Then we discuss the recently announced 2021 Indiana Film Journalists Association awards; the full list of winner and runners-up can be found here. Find us on Facebook, Twitter and Letterboxd.

Reel Views, Review

West Side Story

It’s been 60 years since Jerome Robbins and Robert Wise brought their vision of the stage musical West Side Story to the big screen and few films of the genre have captured the hearts and minds of audiences more since its release. It would take an audacious filmmaker to adapt the renowned 1957 Broadway show once again but when it comes to moviemaking, Steven Spielberg has rarely backed down from a challenge during his 50 years in the industry. He’s taken on nearly every category of film — even an ill-advised foray into war comedy — but this is his first dance with a genre that’s seen its fair share of duds in recent years. It turns out to be an expert calculation, resulting not just the most electric musical event of the year but the most vital work of Spielberg’s career since Lincoln almost 10 years ago.

Taking place in the Upper West Side of the mid-1950s, the Romeo And Juliet-influenced story finds young love in the crossfire between two rival gangs of teenagers. The all-white Jets, led by Riff (Mike Faist), lock horns with the Puerto Rican Sharks, led by Bernardo (David Alvarez), over control of their changing neighborhood. Riff looks to recruit the fresh-out-of-jail Tony (Ansel Elgort) for the next “rumble” between the two groups, while Bernardo’s sister Maria (Rachel Zegler) wishes to leave the street violence of their city behind her. When Tony and Maria lock eyes for the first time at a school dance, they have an immediate connection and instantly plan to run away together, if the ties to their neighborhood don’t weigh them down first.

Opening with a dazzling continuous crane shot, which glides over rubble and behind wrecking balls before landing on an underground door, West Side Story reminds us early and often that we’re in the hands of one of the medium’s most gifted visual storytellers. With longtime collaborator Janusz Kamiński, whose work here should win him his third Oscar for Best Cinematography, Spielberg lends fresh eyes to a world that was already vibrant to begin with. Too often, movie musicals have a glossy sheen to them that comes across as phony; this summer’s disappointing In the Heights and the much, much worse Dear Evan Hansen are two examples from this year alone. There’s not an uninspired shot in all of West Side Story and there are quite a few, like the bird’s-eye view of the long-cast shadows from the Sharks and Jets converging in a salt warehouse, that will take your breath away.

The iconic musical numbers, re-arranged this time by composer David Newman, are handled with the level of care and reverence that the genius team of Sondheim and Bernstein deserve. Spielberg certainly knows not to mess with a good thing, sticking with all of the classics from the original and not adding any new songs. Viewers who may be more reticent to musical fare may be surprised just how smooth the transitions from dialogue to musical numbers are. This isn’t a musical where the action stops so a character or two can belt one out; this is a world in which story and song move in tandem with one another. The choreography is just as fluid and propulsive, pairing the rhythm of the music with body movements in jaw-dropping synchrony.

If there’s a letdown, it’s not in the performances but in the lack of a spark between some of the actors. Elgort and Zegler obviously have the heavy lifting here, as much of the emotional drive in the story hinges on the spontaneous romance between their characters. They both have the vocal chops and the steps but when it comes to their chemistry, it falls short of the on-screen connection between Richard Beymer and Natalie Wood from the 1961 original. Still, they’re sensible picks for the roles and other members of the cast, like Ariana DeBose as Bernardo’s girlfriend Anita, are doing excellent work outside of the central relationship. West Side Story is a rich and magnificent achievement, a movie musical that will delight hardcore fans and newcomers one and the same.

Score – 4/5

New movies coming over the next couple weeks:
Swinging to theaters on December 16th is Spider-Man: No Way Home, the latest Marvel epic starring Tom Holland and Zendaya which finds the titular webslinger and mentor Doctor Strange tinkering with alternate realities within the multiverse.
Also playing only in theaters this weekend is Nightmare Alley, a neo-noir thriller starring Bradley Cooper and Cate Blanchett about an ambitious carny/con man who meets his match in a psychiatrist who is even more dangerous than he is.
Coming to theaters and also to HBO Max on December 22 is The Matrix Resurrections, the belated sci-fi sequel starring Keanu Reeves and Carrie-Anne Moss which finds the characters of the original trilogy seemingly plugged back into The Matrix to fight a new enemy.
Playing only in theaters starting on December 22 is Sing 2, an animated family comedy starring Matthew McConaughey and Reese Witherspoon about a theater owner who tries to persuade a reclusive rock star to join his new singing-based show.
Streaming on Netflix beginning December 24 is Don’t Look Up, a satirical political comedy starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence about a pair of astronomers who set off on a giant media tour to warn mankind of an approaching comet that will destroy planet Earth.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

Being The Ricardos

Though tens of millions of people tuned into I Love Lucy Monday evenings throughout the 1950s, it’s unlikely they knew its stars as well as the show made them feel like they did. The new biopic Being the Ricardos pulls back the curtain on Lucy and Ricky Ricardo to reveal the hard-working husband-wife combination behind the fantastically popular series. Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz’s 20-year marriage was far from the rosy sitcom facsimile that they cultivated together but it was a sincere partnership between two talented individuals with mutual professional respect for one another. One of several hats this film wears is that of a cheerleader for their turbulent but trailblazing relationship, making it a frustrating experience when it tries to do too much elsewhere.

It’s 1952 and I Love Lucy is in its second season when a series of events over one production week threaten the life of the show and the marriage of its two co-stars Lucille Ball (Nicole Kidman) and Desi Arnaz (Javier Bardem). First, at a time when the Red Scare was at a fever pitch, there’s a news report claiming that Ball was a member of the Communist party. Then, there’s a tabloid story circulating that Arnaz is having an affair, although it’s not the first time such an accusation has been leveled against him. These issues are set against perpetual on-set tensions between William Frawley (J. K. Simmons) and Vivian Vance (Nina Arianda), who play the Ricardos’ neighbors, the Mertzes. Through it all, Ball and Arnaz resolve to overcome these obstacles and put everything they have into the show.

I imagine the performances will be the most glaring aspect of Being the Ricardos for audiences and the actors certainly don’t shy away from taking big swings right out of the gate. It’s important to remember that Kidman is only playing Lucy Ricardo during about 10% of her role, with the other 90% spent as the much more shrewd and domineering Lucille Ball. Writer/director Aaron Sorkin portrays Ball as something of a comedy savant, intensely visualizing the possibilities of a comedic premise and poking holes in it before the writing staff has a chance to pitch it completely. Kidman is a classic cocksure Sorkin protagonist, rattling off one-liners like “I’m Lucille Ball; when I’m being funny, you’ll know it” in her first scene.

Puzzlingly, Sorkin uses a trio of faux-documentary talking heads to frame the action of the narrative in the present day before zipping back to the early 50s. He goes back to them a few times in the film but their placement never meshes with the flow of the story and the performances by the three actors are jilted and awkward. Sorkin complicates things further by flashing back to the early 1940s, when Ball and Arnaz’s paths first crossed and their fates in the entertainment industry were forever intertwined. It’s a fine way for us to invest in these characters and their relationship but these flashback scenes are thrown in among scenes from the 1950s and it can be difficult to parse between the two. This is Sorkin’s third directorial effort and while it’s his best when it comes to the performances he’s able to conjure up, he still has a way to go artistically as a storyteller.

Of course, dialogue has been Sorkin’s bread and butter for decades now and he doesn’t let off the gas this time around. Kidman naturally gets most of the best lines — “I’ll be funny by Friday,” she quips blithely during a Tuesday rehearsal — but I also appreciated the verbal sparring between head writers played by Alia Shawkat and Jake Lacy. His scripts have a verve and music to them that screenwriters have been trying and failing to emulate both in TV and in film. He’s done his best work when collaborating with great directors like Mike Nichols and David Fincher but ever since he got the idea that he can direct as well as he can write, the results have been below the bar of excellence he’s set for himself. Being the Ricardos may be the best of the three films Sorkin has directed so far but it’s relatively faint praise for one of Hollywood’s premier scribes.

Score – 3/5

More movies coming this weekend:
Playing only in theaters is West Side Story, Steven Spielberg’s take on the classic 1961 musical starring Ansel Elgort and Rachel Zegler about a pair of teenagers falling in love amid rival street gangs in 1950s New York.
Also playing exclusively in theaters is National Champions, a sports drama starring Stephan James and J. K. Simmons about a star collegiate quarterback who ignites a players’ strike hours before the biggest game of the year in order to fight for equal rights.
Streaming on Netflix is The Unforgivable, a legal drama starring Sandra Bullock and Vincent D’Onofrio about a woman who is released from prison after serving a sentence for a violent crime and re-enters a society that refuses to forgive her past.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Column, Midwest Film Journal

Bond Voyage: Live and Let Die

Originally posted on Midwest Film Journal

Diamonds may be forever but after Sean Connery’s sixth outing as James Bond was released, it was clear that his time as the dashing and deadly Brit was coming to an end. Connery reportedly turned down a then-unheard-of $5.5 million payday to return for one more Bond film, causing United Artists to approach American actors like Adam West and Burt Reynolds as replacements. But it was producer Albert Broccoli who was insistent that the role be portrayed by a British actor and pushed for TV star Roger Moore, whose spy series The Saint bore certain resemblances to the Bond film franchise. Moore would go on to reprise the role six more times following his 1973 debut: the strange but satisfying Live and Let Die.

We meet 007 at the tail end of an Italian rendezvous, of sorts, as he’s briefed by M (Bernard Lee) about three MI6 agents who were killed in action within a day’s time. Though they don’t understand the connection just yet, the murders seem to be tied to one Dr. Kananga (Yaphet Kotto), the secretive prime minister of the Caribbean country San Monique. He has also drawn the attention of CIA agent and Bond confidant Felix Leiter (David Hedison), due to Kananga’s connection to a Harlem-based drug kingpin known as Mr. Big. Bond’s pursuit of Kananga and Big leads him first to the seedy streets of New York, then the sweaty swamplands of New Orleans and finally, the treacherous jungles of the Caribbean Islands.

The outline is standard-issue Bond but it’s all the peculiar wrinkles that make Live and Let Die an intriguing entry in the franchise. Its cold open is the only one in Bond movie history that doesn’t feature Bond himself, instead depicting three bizarre deaths of characters with whom we’re unacquainted and will never meet again. First, a UK diplomat receiving in-ear translation at a United Nations hearing gets blasted with an apparently fatal high-frequency noise in his earpiece. Then, in a bit that would kill on Corncob TV, a man is stabbed while watching a solemn New Orleans processional and the music turns joyous once his body is sucked up into the coffin. Finally, a death ritual is carried out against a man tied to a stake as he receives a deadly snake bite surrounded by celebrant voodoo worshippers. It’s an odd and ominous trifecta of death that sets up each of the film’s primary locations while keeping the audience on their toes like any good cold open should do.

Sandwiched in between blaxploitation classics like Super Fly and Three The Hard Way, Live and Let Die is also notable for its implementation of racial politics present both in film and real life during the early 1970s. Bond’s first lead sends him to the heart of Harlem, tracking a pimpmobile to the Oh Cult Voodoo Shop while being tracked himself as a “cue ball” in the predominantly black community. It’s a funny juxtaposition of how we’ve come to expect James Bond and most on-screen secret agents to conduct an investigation, seemingly unaware of how little discretion is being utilized. Watching the newly-minted Moore snoop around in a tailored suit like the out-of-touch “honky” that the Harlemites literally call him to his face is a bold showing of uncoolness for a character who is meant to epitomize cool.

Being a crime movie, the roles filled by African-American actors don’t have the most sophisticated range of characterizations — most are either villains or henchmen — but the diversity is still laudable for a franchise that was previously dominated by whiteness. The criminals each have their own idiosyncrasies that makes them just memorable enough: Julius W. Harris plays a metal-armed merc named Tee Hee, Earl Jolly Brown is a softly-spoken lackey known as Whisper and Geoffrey Holder portrays the tophat-wearing witch doctor Baron Samedi. Though his height made him an unpopular pick in the N64 game Goldeneye, his striking makeup and chilling cackle make him an unforgettable presence. As Kananga, Kotto puts forth a combination of intelligence and intimidation that all the best Bond villains possess.

Kananga’s final devious act, to slowly lower Bond and his love interest Solitaire (Jane Seymour) into a shark tank while revealing every detail of his evil plan, was immortalized by its inclusion in 007 send-up Austin Powers. While the sharks in Live and Let Die also don’t have frickin’ laser beams attached to their heads, Kananga does use an unnecessarily slow-moving dipping mechanism and doesn’t pay attention to Bond as he utilizes not one but two functions of his Q-issued gadget watch. Speaking of dangerous water creatures, the film also features a stunt where Bond jumps on a series of backwoods-dwelling crocodile heads to get to safety, attempted over 6 takes by stuntman Ross Kananga (seemingly so impressive, screenwriter Tom Mankiewicz named the film’s villain after him).

Even by today’s standards, the stunt work involved in the bayou-based boat chases is quite remarkable. Shot across a series of Louisiana lakes, the lengthy action setpieces feature speedboats zipping through land, air and sea at top speeds. They’re also marked by the inclusion J.W. Pepper, a hilariously sweaty Southern sheriff played by Clifton James in a very tongue-forward performance. It’s a complete caricature and one that director Guy Hamilton seems to fully embrace. I’ll admit to tugging at my collar during his introductory scene where he calls a black character “boy” but then he proceeds to call everyone else he meets, including white characters, by the same name. Oh, I’m sure he’s racist but the fact that he’s a bumbling moron who no one in the film respects makes his character just ridiculous enough to enjoy.

Moore would go on to do Bond movies that were even more campy than this one and while there aren’t any sights as goofy as 007 clowning around in full carney attire or bumbling around in a space suit, Live and Let Die is a fine foreshadowing of corniness to come. There are awful puns about “sheer magnetism” and Felix Leiter’s name being homophonous with a cigarette lighter (the number of gadget phones in this movie is staggering, I should note). Bond gets duped by two different trap doors but Moore remains calm and coiffed after both embarrassing incidents, cracking wise in the face of a bunch of armed thugs. Baron Samedi may get the last laugh in this entry but Moore’s use of self-deprecating comedy would go on to define his era of Bond pictures, for better or worse. It’s in that same spirit that I would recommend watching his first outing as Bond: don’t take it too seriously.

Reel Views, Review

House Of Gucci

At 83 years old, director Ridley Scott will take a crack at just about any story. He’s headed up classics in the horror, sci-fi and war genres, fine-tuning a chameleonic approach that has kept him sharp throughout his storied career. With his latest project, the glamorous but lugubrious House of Gucci, he finds his latest tale to tell at the intersection of high crime and high fashion. He’s tackled true crime stories before, most recently in 2017’s All the Money in the World, but where that film generally plays it straight when recreating the kidnapping of John Paul Getty, Scott decided he wanted to dial up the camp considerably this time around. It’s not a bad call, given the talented cast that he’s assembled, but when you take that element away from the film, you’re left with a flimsy story that’s not juicy enough to justify this big-screen retelling.

We’re introduced to Patrizia Reggiani (Lady Gaga) as she struts past cat-callers to the managing office of her father’s modest trucking company. She’s no stranger to using her lavish looks to get what she wants, allowing her to fast-track a meet-cute with fashion heir Maurizio Gucci (Adam Driver) into a swift marriage and pregnancy. Maurizio’s father Rodolfo (Jeremy Irons) expresses his suspicions of Patrizia early and often, while Rodolfo’s brother Aldo (Al Pacino) seems to favor Patrizia over his maladroit son Paolo (Jared Leto). Shake-ups in Rodolfo’s health lead to Maurizio inheriting 50% stake in his family’s prestigious brand, a shift that causes Maurizio to become more invested in the business than in his marriage.

Shot with the same steel-tinted remove as All the Money in the World, House of Gucci is the second film Scott has released this season that doesn’t exactly invite viewers into its potentially entrancing setting. Certainly the production design and the costume design are as stellar as one would expect — Gaga’s opulent outfits alone may be worth the price of admission for some — but there’s a repeated color palette here that I wish Scott would sidestep next time. He doesn’t exactly reinvent the wheel from the aural perspective either, tapping overplayed late-era disco hits like “Heart of Glass” and “I Feel Love” to remind us that we’re in early 1980s New York and things are moving fast. The opera cuts are even more predictable; there’s literally a scene where Patrizia and Paolo dance to “La donna è mobile” from Verdi’s Rigoletto (trust me, you’d recognize it) in an oversized kitchen.

Scott and his performers can’t quite decide how seriously we should be taking the pile of Italian cliches that stack up like knockoff handbags in an ignored bedroom closet. When characters don’t have an espresso cup pressed up against their lips, they’re speaking in a wide range of dialects that can best be categorized as “scattershot spaghetti”. Jeremy Irons barely abandons his native English accent, while Jared Leto runs with a phonology that would be considered borderline offensive even in a Super Mario Bros. animated show. Gaga not only gives the film’s best performance but also offers an accent that veers into Natasha Fatale territory at Patrizia’s most sinister moments but is otherwise the most measured vocal work in the movie.

Bursting onto the Hollywood scene with an Oscar-nominated role in A Star Is Born, Gaga proves once again that she has the chops to dominate the music and film industries simultaneously. As the original “Black Widow”, she balances femme fatale proclivities with a woman doing her best to find her way in the world. It’s a juicy role and it’s no surprise fashionista Gaga would jump at the chance to play someone tied into Gucci’s legacy but Scott and his screenwriters Becky Johnston and Roberto Bentivegna don’t seem to have the same gusto in their assignments. The events that lead to the tragedy of Maurizio and Patrizia play out with too little personal perspective on the corresponding real-life events. Like Disney’s Cruella from earlier this year, House of Gucci has plenty of window dressing but not enough in the store to back it up.

Score – 2.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Premiering on Netflix is The Power of the Dog, a Western starring Benedict Cumberbatch and Kirsten Dunst about a charismatic rancher whose world is turned upside down when his brother brings home his new wife and her son.
Streaming on Disney+ is Diary of a Wimpy Kid, an animated comedy starring Brady Noon and Chris Diamantopoulos about a beleaguered middle schooler who chronicles his hormonal hardships in the pages of his trusty journal.
Playing at Cinema Center is I Carry You With Me, a Spanish-language drama starring Armando Espitia and Christian Vázquez about a decades-long romance that begins in Mexico between an aspiring chef and a teacher.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

Belfast

Irish writer/director Kenneth Branagh brings the memories of his childhood to the big screen with Belfast, a slight but sweet slice-of-life story with winsome performances that make up for the often too-tidy screenplay. Branagh has directed 18 movies to date, from multiple Shakespeare adaptations to more corporate fare like Cinderella and Artemis Fowl, but this certainly feels like his most deeply-felt film thus far. It captures the joys and fears of an era that Americans may not know as nearly as well as their European counterparts but will likely leave the theater eager to learn more about this turbulent time in history. The movie isn’t unlike a cold pint of Guinness after a hard day at work, in that it’s a nice break from reality that’s familiar and goes down easy.

The film is told from the perspective of Buddy (Jude Hill), a young boy living in Belfast with his mother (Caitríona Balfe) and father (Jamie Dornan) when The Troubles begin. Marked by years of street-level violence between Protestants and Catholics throughout Ireland, it was a time of conflict and unrest that understandably caused many to flee the country for greener pastures. But Buddy’s family, including his grandmother (Judi Dench) and grandfather (Ciarán Hinds), has unresolved debts that preclude their ability to just up and leave the only street that they’ve known. We see the struggles of Buddy’s family and friends through his eyes as he makes the most of his childhood, doing his best in school and trying to keep out of trouble on the streets.

Bookended by present-day shots taken around the titular town, Belfast is primarily presented in handsome black-and-white courtesy of cinematographer and frequent Branagh collaborator Haris Zambarloukos. It’s a bit ironic, then, that Branagh seems to recall these events with rose-colored glasses. The opening scene escalates from neighbors doffing caps and hollering pleasantries to an angry mob storming down the street in the span of one continuous 360 degree shot. It’s like an opening number from a musical desperate to introduce the setting and raise the stakes by the time the last note is sung but in a drama like this, such a scene strains credulity. Worse yet is a crucial moment that occurs during what should be the film’s climax, which suffers from downright poor editing that undercuts the dramatic tension of the sequence.

Thankfully, Belfast finds most of its power simply in the hushed discussions overheard between family members who care deeply for one another. Most of the performers are shot in close-up, especially when Buddy is talking with them, suggesting the full panoramic view that adults take up in a child’s field of vision. Sometimes it’s imposing and sometimes it’s comforting, depending on the context of the conversation. Zambarloukos also shoots from lower angles, suggesting the perspective of a boy always looking up to his elders for guidance. A humorous early sequence, and something of a running joke throughout, involves a sweaty preacher firing off about two metaphorical paths of Heaven and Hell, while Buddy innocently wonders which of his actions correspond with which road.

This is Jude Hill’s first credited role and he does a fine job balancing Buddy’s hopes and hang-ups while fostering a cherubic nature that carries through to the easy nature of the film. Dornan, who was a riot earlier this year in Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar, brings an easy charm here and continues to find colorful roles following his drab stint as Christian Grey in the Fifty Shades series. Balfe is radiant as the maternal figure who not only looks after Buddy and his brother but is something of a guardian angel for all of the children on their street, while Dench and Hinds add notes of wit and wisdom as grandparents. Belfast is a bit too nostalgic and sentimental for its own good but wins the day with likable acting and heartfelt direction.

Score – 3/5

Also coming to theaters on Thanksgiving:
Encanto, a Disney animated musical starring Stephanie Beatriz and John Leguizamo, tells the story of a young Colombian girl who is the only member of her family without magical powers and may be the only one who can save the magic when it comes under threat.
House of Gucci, a crime biopic starring Lady Gaga and Adam Driver, depicts the events and aftermath of the 1995 murder of Maurizio Gucci, Italian businessman and head of the fashion house Gucci.
Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City, a survival horror starring Kaya Scodelario and Hannah John-Kamen, follows a group of survivors as they make their way through a dying town with great evil brewing below the surface.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

Red Notice

On their comedy companion channel Netflix Is A Joke, the streaming giant has a series called Written Entirely By Bots, comprised of animated shorts allegedly written by a computer program tasked with watching thousands of hours of a given genre of film. If they did one called The First Action-Adventure Film Written Entirely By Bots, I can’t imagine it would turn out much differently than Red Notice. Seemingly rendered to trigger a new wave of post-human cinema, the new would-be blockbuster doesn’t seem designed by committee as much as it seems designed by algorithm. Hypothetically, it was made to entertain humans but perhaps bots will be trained to watch it to juice up Netflix’s Nielsen numbers and trigger an inevitable franchise. We, the ticket-holders (subscription-holders, more aptly), are finally obsolete.

The story goes that thousands of years ago, Cleopatra received three egg-shaped jewels as gifts that were lost over time and scattered across the world. Cut to present day and their mystique still drives art thieves like Nolan Booth (Ryan Reynolds) to scoop them up and sell the reconvened trio to the highest bidder. After nearly catching Booth in the act of stealing the first egg from Rome, FBI agent John Hartley (Dwayne Johnson) stays hot on his trail as he travels to Spain, where the second egg is allegedly held by arms dealer Sotto Voce (Chris Diamantopoulos). We discover Booth isn’t the only one scooping up eggs, as a fellow burglar known as The Bishop (Gal Gadot) is also drawn to the bejeweled artifacts and threatens to discover the lost third egg before he does.

From the expository opening voiceover that literally sounds like it was deep-faked into existence to the obligatory sequel its ending portends, Red Notice is gallingly generic throughout its 118 minute runtime. It apes globe-trotting escapades like Indiana Jones and The Mummy but does so with a stunning lack of personality and originality. Everyone here is squarely within their wheelhouse: Johnson as the stoic straight man, Reynolds as the wise-cracking fool and Gadot as the statuesque mystery woman who knows how to kick a butt or two. I understand actors playing to their strengths but these three stars are so unwilling to move away from their comfort zones that it just comes across as lazy. Perhaps Gadot and company still believe they’re under quarantine singing “Imagine” in their mansions, locked down from venturing out into the world of creativity.

Credited writer/director Rawson Marshall Thurber hit it big in the past with comedies like DodgeBall and We’re the Millers but has transitioned to helming anonymous actioners since teaming with Johnson in 2018’s Skyscraper. Red Notice is a little too eager to please with its comedic notes but despite itself, it lands a few laughs along the way. Almost all the attempts come courtesy of Reynolds’ trademark quips, which are exhausting in their frequency but not without their occasional wins. His Booth asking a Russian prison cafeteria worker if the gruel he just served is farm-to-table is one such example that caught me off guard enough to chuckle. However, on the subject of food and drink, I can’t roll my eyes hard enough at the fact that Reynolds didn’t think we’d notice product placement for his own line of gin.

Just like the on-screen persona that Reynolds has crafted over the past twenty years, Red Notice is simply far too pleased with itself. It’s fueled by the same self-satisfied soullessness that has plagued blockbusters in the past but that Netflix is cynical enough to bet on this brand of entertainment for home viewing further demonstrates their commitment towards quantity over quality. Just this month, they’ve already released two other films — The Harder They Fall and Passing — that are well worth one’s time but won’t get half the views of this star-studded sham. With a title that sounds like an ominous warning that the crimson-hued “N” will soon take over all of Hollywood, Red Notice is less of a movie and more of a call to arms for creatives at risk of being outsourced by machines.

Score – 1.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming only to theaters is Ghostbusters: Afterlife, a supernatural comedy sequel starring Paul Rudd and Finn Wolfhard about a recently evicted family who moves to a farmhouse and experiences unexplained earthquakes that they suspect could be tied to the paranormal.
Playing in theaters and streaming on HBO Max is King Richard, a sports biopic starring Will Smith and Aunjanue Ellis about how tennis superstars Venus and Serena Williams became who they are after the coaching from their father Richard Williams.
Premiering on Netflix is Tick, Tick… Boom!, a musical starring Andrew Garfield and Alexandra Shipp about an aspiring theater composer endures a quarter-life crisis as he approaches 30 and does not feel close to his dream.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

Finch

Leave it to America’s Dad to make the end of the world more palatable. Tom Hanks’ latest sci-fi vehicle Finch finds the star in the titular role as a robotics engineer who is one of the last remaining people on Earth after a solar flare decimated the ozone layer. He spends his days scavenging for resources and staving off loneliness with the help of his dog Goodyear and diminutive robot assistant Dewey. Finch knows he won’t be around forever, with the threat of dangerous UV radiation and extreme weather events looming large every day, so he works at night to create a more advanced humanoid automaton to care for Goodyear. After years of trial and error, the robot, who Finch decides to call Jeff (Caleb Landry Jones), becomes operational and joins the team for a trek to San Francisco.

Compared to survival sci-fi stories like The Martian and I Am Legend, the scale of Finch is reduced drastically but the stakes remain high due to Hanks’ initial affability and also due to the rest of his crew’s vulnerability. Dewey, resembling Johnny 5 from Short Circuit, roams around on his four wheels but is defenseless against any traps that survivors may have set in abandoned buildings. Goodyear, portrayed by real-life good boy Seamus in an all-timer of a pet performance, is well-behaved and intuitive but can still end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. The nascent Jeff is deceptively strong and possesses lightning-fast encyclopedic knowledge but lacks the rapport and shorthand that Finch’s other two companions have with him.

Besides the impressive feat of carrying a movie as the only on-screen human performer a la Cast Away, another aspect of Hanks’ performance that I admired was his willingness to show a more stern side of his ailing protagonist. After Jeff is “born”, director Miguel Sapochnik treats us to a zippy montage of Finch teaching him traits like how to walk and how to carry bags but the lessons aren’t always fun and games. Even moving the RV back a few feet so that Finch can avoid the 140 degree sun rays is critical and when Jeff fails to complete relatively simple tasks like that, Finch lets him know about it. Like any father, Finch is hard on Jeff because he wants him to be able to make it on his own and when Finch’s coughing fits become more frequent, we’re to understand how little time he may have left.

Jones, who was motion-captured on-set with Hanks but replaced immaculately with CGI, gives a terrific vocal performance that starts out sterile and mechanized but grows more cherubic and soulful as his relationship with Finch thaws. His body language goes through changes too, his militaristic rigidity and inelastic gait slowly melting into a more slumped body posture like Teenage Groot from Avengers: Infinity War. My favorite detail in Jones’ physical performance is his idle hand movements, fidgeting while trying to fill uncomfortable silence with Finch and fumbling when trying to build up his fine motor skills between pit stops. The replacement of Jones, who had to wear two-foot-tall stilts to make his interplay with Hanks more organic, with the computer-generated Jeff, is nothing short of state-of-the-art.

I don’t talk about movie dogs very often, as they’re typically not integral to the plot of a film and if present in a horror movie, they’re almost always the first to go. Last year’s The Call of the Wild made the choice to completely computer generate Buck instead of casting a real-life canine, which worked better than one might expect but still felt a bit uncanny. Given the amount of time Goodyear/Seamus interacts with an imposing human in a robot costume, he does an impressive job maintaining the illusion that Jeff is an actual robot. It’s part of a trio of unconventional performances that helps Finch overcome its conventional narrative to deliver a heartwarming post-apocalyptic tale.

Score – 3.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Playing in theaters and streaming on Paramount+ is Clifford the Big Red Dog, an adventure comedy starring David Alan Grier and Jack Whitehall about a young girl’s love for a tiny puppy that makes the dog grow to an enormous size.
Premiering on Netflix is Passing, a black-and-white drama starring Tessa Thompson and Ruth Negga about a pair of mixed-race childhood friends who reunite in adulthood and become increasingly involved with one another’s lives.
For their grand re-opening on Friday November 12th, Cinema Center is screening Archenemy, a superhero film starring Joe Manganiello and Skylan Brooks about a teenager who meets a mysterious man claiming he lost his superpowers after arriving from another dimension.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

My thoughts on the movies