Reel Views, Review

Woman Of The Hour

Anna Kendrick steps behind the camera for the first time to take on misogyny and murder with Woman Of The Hour, a chilling true crime tale debuting on Netflix starting this Friday. In September 1978, photographer Rodney Alcala was the winning Bachelor on an episode of The Dating Game. What producers and viewers of the show didn’t know at the time was that he was in the middle of a killing spree that already claimed the lives of several young women throughout southern California. Weaving back and forth through time, Kendrick uses the taping of the now infamous game show entry as an anchor point to underscore just how deceiving appearances can be. Backed by a sharp script and even more incisive editing, her directorial debut is a bracingly fresh take on the serial killer genre.

Kendrick also stars as Cheryl Bradshaw, a struggling actress who schleps fruitlessly to auditions, where casting directors barely even look up from their notes to acknowledge her when running scenes. Desperate for work, she reluctantly takes a spot on the hit game show The Dating Game, in the hopes that her appearance will spark more TV roles for her in the future. After throwing the three male contestants unscripted questions, to the chagrin of host Ed Burke (Tony Hale), Cheryl chooses the charming and intelligent “Bachelor #3” Rodney Alcala (Daniel Zovatto). Anxious for the all-expense paid trip to Carmel, Rodney asks Cheryl for a drink right after the show but during their date, she can’t ignore the nagging feeling that something isn’t right with the newly-minted game show winner.

In addition to the unsettling encounter Cheryl has with the murderer, whose victim count was estimated to be 130 by the time he died in 2021, Woman Of The Hour depicts a handful of the atrocities Alcala committed. While these scenes are terrifying and can be difficult to watch, they certainly don’t indulge in brutality against these women and are intended to convey just how casual the transition from flirtation to violence can be at the hands of a monster. Daniel Zovatto is appropriately unnerving as the calculatedly charismatic creep, connoting confidence and conscientiousness atop his psychopathic impulses. In each of the sequences that show Alcala on the hunt for vulnerable women, Zovatto reveals aspects of his character that make him even more deplorable but no less fascinating.

Concluding right at the 90-minute mark, Woman Of The Hour does come across as somewhat underdeveloped despite its weighty subject material. Kendrick devotes a portion of the narrative to an audience member, played by Nicolette Robinson, who recognizes Alcala during the taping of the episode after a previous encounter that left her shaken. I imagine her inclusion in the film is Kendrick taking artistic liberties, as there isn’t any evidence someone who had a brush with Alcala was in the audience for the show. But in comparison to Cheryl’s perspective of events and Rodney’s murderous interjections in the narrative, the scenes of Robinson’s character desperately trying to warn a top producer of The Dating Game about Alcala don’t resonate with the same level of intensity.

What Kendrick makes clear is how the sexism of the era, the residue of which is still on display today, allowed murderers like Alcala to carry out horrendous crimes undetected. Using The Dating Game, a long-running game show that positioned women as prizes to be won, as a backdrop drives home the point that a literal serial killer can be championed if they say the right thing. During commercial breaks, Cheryl chats with a tenured makeup artist who quickly touches her up and imparts bits of wisdom for the nervous contestant. In the years she’s been on the show, she says the real question under all the different questions that are asked is “which one of you will hurt me?” Of course, the line takes on a more literal meaning in context but even outside this story, it points to how unsafe women have been made to feel by men throughout the years. It’s a premise that Kendrick unpacks brilliantly as both the lead actress and director of Woman Of The Hour, an impactful evocation of quiet dread.

Score – 3.5/5

More new movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is Smile 2, a horror sequel starring Naomi Scott and Rosemarie DeWitt, following a pop singer begins to experience a series of increasingly disturbing and daunting events as she is about to go on a new world tour.
Also playing in theaters is We Live In Time, a romantic drama starring Andrew Garfield and Florence Pugh, telling the story of an up-and-coming chef and a recent divorcée who find their lives forever changed when a chance encounter brings them together.
Streaming on Shudder is MadS, a one-take horror movie starring Lewkowski Yovel and Lucille Guillaume, involving a teenager whose night takes a surreal turn when he picks up an injured woman after driving back from seeing his drug dealer.

Column, Midwest Film Journal

Gimme Toro: The Devil’s Backbone

Originally posted on Midwest Film Journal

“History is ultimately an inventory of ghosts.” – Guillermo del Toro

“What is a ghost?” These are the first words we hear a voice ponder at the outset of The Devil’s Backbone, Guillermo del Toro’s breakthrough work that scored him the strongest critical reviews of his career up to that point. As the voiceover continues to consider if a ghost can be “an emotion suspended in time, like a blurred photograph, like an insect trapped in amber,” we understand that del Toro is not setting up a traditional horror movie or ghost story. Set towards the end of the Spanish Civil War, it’s a film that wades in the melancholy generated by senseless violence and the ripple effect of irreversible acts. In keeping with a motif del Toro continues to evoke in his work, human beings in his tales can act more monstrous than the actual monsters (in this case, apparitions) themselves.

We meet young Carlos (Fernando Tielve) as he is taken to an orphanage in the Spanish countryside after his father is killed in action. The orphanage’s headmistress Carmen (Marisa Paredes) is reticent to take on one more child, as they’re already struggling to take care of the orphans in their care already, but the head doctor Casares (Federico Luppi) convinces her to take Carlos in. At first, the orphanage bully Jaime (Íñigo Garcés) is needlessly cruel to Carlos and leaves him alone in the dark after the pair go to fill pitchers of water overnight. It’s here that Carlos first sees the ghost of Santi (Junio Valverde), a boy who died at the orphanage under mysterious circumstances years ago. As the conflict between the loyalists and nationalists rages on outside the confines of the orphanage, the violence threatens to make its way through the gates.

The first drafts of The Devil’s Backbone date back to Guillermo del Toro’s college days in the 1980s, even though the project wasn’t fully realized until many years for its release in 2001. Given this, along with the fact that del Toro felt the need to return to his roots after the commercial failure of 1997’s Mimic, it doesn’t seem a stretch to call The Devil’s Backbone his most personal work. While he wasn’t around in the 1930s when the movie takes place, he did go to an all-male Jesuit school with conditions similar to an orphanage and recalls hearing disembodied voices on the grounds. Much in the way that the audience finds its way into this story through Carlos, del Toro must have found his voice most clearly through the protagonist (who he’s described as a “force of innocence”) as well.

Del Toro also explores a surrogate father role for Carlos by way of the kindly Dr. Casares, who gives him the nickname “Carlitos” and looks out for him when his peers give him a harder time. Whether he’s reciting poetry or listening to music on his phonograph, his gentle disposition is a respite from the harsh realities of Carlos’s world. By comparison, the lead administrator Carmen is much colder and more cynical, burdened by a wooden artificial leg that causes her constant pain. Both supporters of the Republican loyalists, Casares and Carmen speculate on the outcome of the war, with the former characteristically optimistic that the loyalists will triumph and the latter dour about what she perceives as an inevitable victory for the nationalists. When discussing how dispiriting the war’s outcome looks, she laments, “Sometimes, I think that we are the ghosts,” a line that carries unintentional metatextual significance, as The Devil’s Backbone was released the same year as fellow ghost story The Others.

As much as the war is a metaphor for the ghost story and vice versa, The Devil’s Backbone contains several spine-chilling moments that stand on their own. The majority of these are courtesy of Santi, an eerie composite of ghoulish makeup and special effects that are still hauntingly effective more than 20 years later. My favorite detail is how Santi is surrounded by murky particles that aren’t easy to see when he moves but when he stands still, they float and coalesce in a way that calls attention to his ghastly presence. He also has a head wound with blood that slowly trickles up, another clue as to how Santi met his untimely demise. The sight of him is unnerving as is but his voice alone can make the hair on your arm stand on end; his portentous refrain of “many of you will die” tap us into the fear that Carlos feels in his midst.

As scary as Santi is, del Toro makes it clear that Carlos has other threats to his life that aren’t of the otherworldly or supernatural kind. In addition to the cruelty of some of the orphans and the threat of violence from the war, there’s also a groundskeeper (played by Eduardo Noriega) who lashes out at the kids from time to time. When he finds them sneaking around in the basement of a supply house, he grabs Jaime by his hair and viciously chastises them for trespassing. He then cuts Jaime across the cheek and then runs the children off, warning Carlos, “A single word about this and I’ll rip you in half.” Those who have seen Pan’s Labyrinth, which del Toro has called a “spiritual successor” to The Devil’s Backbone, may find parallels between Noriega’s character and the brutal Captain Vidal from that film.

Del Toro masterfully bookends his tale with an expansion on the opening line, musing that in addition to simply being a spirit of the dead, a ghost can also be an embodiment of a past mistake or residual energy of tragic events that replay over and over. We’re also given more context into who is narrating and at what point in time they’re doing so, leading to a powerful denouement and unforgettable final image. The Devil’s Backbone is a pivotal work in del Toro’s career when he found the courage to tell stories his own way.

Reel Views, Review

Joker: Folie à Deux

What do you get when you cross a loosely-adapted comic book movie with a billion dollars at the box office and 11 Oscar nominations? Well, you get Joker: Folie à Deux, a sequel borne not of artistic necessity but of financial potentiality. On paper, it doesn’t seem like a lazy effort; after all, it’s a full-blown musical that spends most of its runtime either in a prison or a courtroom. But it’s clear that director and co-writer Todd Phillips is simply out of his element here. It’s no secret that Phillips borrowed heavily from two Scorsese classics (Taxi Driver and The King Of Comedy) when creating Joker. It’s ironic (or perhaps fitting) that his follow-up seems to track so closely with Scorsese’s New York, New York, a dolefully nostalgic musical so poorly received that it sent the director into a downward spiral. Don’t be surprised if we see a black-and-white boxing epic from Phillips 5 years from now.

It’s two years after the events of Joker and Arthur Fleck (Joaquin Phoenix) has been committed to Arkham State Hospital while awaiting trial for the murders he committed. Taking up his case is attorney Maryanne Stewart (Catherine Keener), who plans to argue that Arthur’s crimes were the result of a split personality over which he had no control. The conditions of Arkham are bleak — courtesy of thuggish prison guards like Jackie Sullivan (Brendan Gleeson) — but a bright spot appears in the form of fellow inmate Lee Quinzel (Lady Gaga), whom Arthur meets in music therapy. Despite the unusual circumstances, the pair fall for one another but as the media frenzy around Arthur’s hotly anticipated trial continues the swirl, will their burgeoning bond survive the madness?

To be clear: Joker: Folie à Deux isn’t bad because it’s a musical; it’s bad because it’s not a good musical. Instead of crafting original songs, Todd Phillips opts for standards like the ones Lady Gaga sang with Tony Bennett on the albums they collaborated on before his passing. Obviously the songs are in her wheelhouse and she belts them out well, but Phillips doesn’t even try to stage cogent musical numbers to feature her towering vocals. Understandably, Joaquin Phoenix doesn’t match her vocally but you could make the argument he’s singing “in character” more as Arthur, where Gaga doesn’t register as playing a character during her songs. Aside from a few cheek-to-cheek reveries, the choreography often seems haphazard and almost improvised in the rest of the sequences. The switches to song-and-dance mode often feel perfunctory and there are periods where the film seems embarrassed to admit that it’s a musical.

As underwhelming as Joker: Folie à Deux is as a musical, its ultimate undoing is that it’s a narratively inert courtroom drama as well. Putting Arthur on trial may have seemed like a satisfying narrative arc in theory but for the purposes of this sequel, it anchors its ambitions down with callbacks and reframing of events from the first film. It also puts front and center how little Todd Phillips actually understands or cares about Arthur in the first place; most of the testimony is centered around how awful his character was to people around him in Joker. Borrowing from the “God’s lonely man” mold from the aforementioned Scorsese classics, Phillips was at least able to feign empathy for his central character the first time around but here, he has no idea what to make of him and his actions. This aimlessness affects Joaquin Phoenix’s performance too, whose work here is still passable but not nearly as arresting as it was in his initial Oscar-winning role.

Aside from an opening animated sequence that feels like it’s trying too hard to throw the audience off kilter, the early stretch of Joker: Folie à Deux is its most promising. If the end of Joker positioned the titular rogue as a folk hero for the downtrodden, Folie à Deux provides a sobering counterpoint to infamy with its dispiriting prison sequences. Even though the guard characters are inconsistently written, Phillips reliably hits the prison drama beats with cinematographer Lawrence Sher, returning from Joker with camerawork that’s more claustrophobic than the predecessor but no less compelling. Frankly, someone more talented than Phillips would’ve had more success with this project but since he was never going to turn down the paycheck, why not play to the director’s strengths and make this a road movie? Phillips directed Road Trip, Due Date and three The Hangover films, so why not have Arthur and Lee hit the road like Bonnie and Clyde?

Score – 2/5

Coming to theaters this weekend:
Saturday Night, starring Gabriel LaBelle and Rachel Sennott, is a biopic based on the true story of what happened in the 90 minutes prior to the 1975 premiere of NBC’s debut of Saturday Night Live.
Piece By Piece, starring Pharrell Williams and Morgan Neville, which documents the life and musical career of producer Pharrell Williams, incorporating his faith and expressing his artistry by means of Lego.
Terrifier 3, starring David Howard Thornton and Lauren LaVera, continues the saga of the murderous Art The Clown, as survivors of his Halloween massacre struggle to rebuild their shattered lives during the holiday season.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

My Old Ass

In the spring of 2020, popular YouTube comedian Julie Nolke started a sketch series called “Explaining The Pandemic To My Past Self”, in which a version of herself a few months in the future checks in with herself in the past. Being a tumultuous pocket of time, there’s a lot to go over and the comedic conceit is centered around just how much can change in a short period. The new coming-of-age dramedy My Old Ass from writer/director Megan Park, expands this premise out to feature length and in the process, stretches out the amount of time between the two versions of the same person. In doing so, it speaks more broadly to the desire everyone has to use fantastical foresight to have more control over the future of their personal lives. The potential poignancy of the scenario seems like it would be easy to mine for pathos, so it’s strange that this movie fumbles the weightier aspects of its story.

On her 18th birthday, Elliott (Maisy Stella) takes a boat with her friends Ro (Kerrice Brooks) and Ruthie (Maddie Ziegler) to a nearby island, where they plan on celebrating with psychedelic mushrooms. After drinking the spiked tea, Elliott’s friends go off on their own “typical” trips and while Elliott waits for the effects to kick in for her, a future version of herself (played by Aubrey Plaza) appears out of nowhere. Though initially skeptical, teenage Elliott soon feels convinced that she’s not just hallucinating but is actually being reached across time by her future self. After imparting some bits of wisdom about their family and their future career, the 39-year-old version of Elliott gives a vague but stern warning before she disappears to avoid anyone named Chad. Sure enough, a boy named Chad (Percy Hynes White) starts working at Elliott’s family’s cranberry farm and she has to decide whether to ignore her own advice or pursue a relationship with him.

One of My Old Ass‘s major miscalculations is in sidelining Aubrey Plaza for the majority of the movie, as younger and older Elliott primarily spend the story communicating via phone by voice or text. Even though they don’t look especially similar to one another, Plaza and Maisy Stella have a fun rapport with one another and I’m not sure why Megan Park doesn’t feature them on-screen together much. Oddly, Maddie Ziegler’s character isn’t present much in the film either, a shame since Park directed her and Jenna Ortega to great effect — drastically different subject material aside — in her previous feature The Fallout. Stella and Percy Hynes White certainly have enough chemistry to make the romantic thrust of the narrative work but there isn’t much about watching their mutual crush develop that feels unique to this movie.

Outside of the relationship between Elliott and Chad, Park also spends time fleshing out Elliott’s relationship with her family, particularly her mom and her younger brother (played by Maria Dizzia and Seth Isaac Johnson, respectively). While the screenplay does its best to imbue these bonding moments with heartfelt meaning, the sentiment just doesn’t land as well as it does in other coming-of-age tales like Dìdi from just a couple months ago. Where that film had a distinct sense of time and place that directs the protagonist’s evolution, My Old Ass grasps at millennial touchstones with era-specific music cues and a flashback sequence evoking a mid-aughts pop music heartthrob. It’s a cute scene but it doesn’t ultimately tell us much about the character or why this particular memory is important to her.

Despite this, My Old Ass is amiable enough and with a runtime under 90 minutes, it certainly doesn’t outstay its welcome. There are nuggets of wisdom to be found about the passage of time and how Gen Z is dealing with growing up. My favorite scene involves Elliott confessing to Ro that she has a crush on Chad, when she’s previously only seemed to be interested in pursuing relationships with girls. The pacing of the conversation is considered but comedically compelling all the same; Ro reminds her that she told her to use labels when they’re useful but to ditch them when they no longer feel useful. I wish Megan Park was able to string more scenes like this one together to give the kick My Old Ass in the pants it needed to make a bigger impact.

Score – 2.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is Joker: Folie à Deux, a musical thriller starring Joaquin Phoenix and Lady Gaga, which finds the protagonist of Joker institutionalized while awaiting trial for his crimes and falling crazy in love with a fellow inmate.
Also playing in theaters is White Bird, a coming-of-age period drama starring Ariella Glaser and Orlando Schwerdt, about a troubled young student who is struggling to fit in at his new school after being expelled for his treatment of a disfigured student at his previous school.
Streaming on Netflix is It’s What’s Inside, a horror comedy starring Brittany O’Grady and James Morosini, following a group of friends who gather for a pre-wedding party that descends into an existential nightmare when an estranged friend arrives with a mysterious game that awakens long-hidden secrets, desires, and grudges.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

The Substance

If the body horror subgenre has a guiding principle, it’s in the terror of our infinite consciousness being inextricably tethered to malleable mortal flesh. Most films in the category find humans attempting to circumvent their natural form and being punished in gruesome ways for their transgression. The Substance, the provocative new satire from writer/director Coralie Fargeat, abides by this thesis — “you can’t escape from yourself,” as a sinister voice on the phone warns at one point — but pushes the subgenre into thrilling new territory by taking on the beauty industry and the impossible standards society places on women. In the protagonist’s quest for physical perfection, imagery is evoked that isn’t merely ugly but downright horrifying. It’s as gnarly a parable about self-acceptance as you’re likely to see this year, or any other year, for that matter.

The opening shot of The Substance makes it clear that the star of Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) is fading. As the cracks of her respective Hollywood Walk of Fame emblem have manifested over the years, she too finds the passage of time difficult to take when her long-running aerobic TV show is canceled on her 50th birthday. After a car accident, she learns of a mysterious serum known as “The Substance”, which promises Elisabeth a “younger and better version” of herself. Upon first injection, a new being is birthed out of Elisabeth’s spinal column, a younger counterpart who chooses the name Sue (Margaret Qualley) and shares Elisabeth’s interest in sexualized fitness routines. Sue parlays with Elisabeth’s skeezy TV producer Harvey (Dennis Quaid) and she seems to be well on her way to stardom but there’s a catch: the regimen for The Substance dictates that Sue and Elisabeth switch bodies every week.

Inevitably, this protocol is abused and the equilibrium between Elisabeth and Sue is irrevocably thrown off. The temptation of staying in Sue’s body beyond the week-long timeframe proves too great and the results become dire in short order. It’s difficult to pick a favorite stretch of The Substance, easily one of 2024’s finest, but the initial fracturing of Elisabeth and Sue’s journeys provides the film’s most biting commentary. While Sue spends her week titillating viewers with her new show Pump It Up, Elisabeth desperately grasps for fulfillment through overindulging on junk food. She even accepts a date with a high school acquaintance who is, frankly, not nearly as good-looking as she is, but thanks to the humongous Sue-featuring billboard outside her window, Elisabeth spirals into debilitating insecurity. It’s a heartbreaking scene and Demi Moore pulls it off perfectly.

If The Substance was primarily just scenes where we’re asked to have sympathy for Elisabeth, Moore would already be doing the best work of her career but what puts this over the top is how much more is asked of her. At the outset, she has to sidestep the grotesque behavior of demeaning male executives who no longer see her as relevant and by the end, she steps into corporal grotesqueries that are best for viewers to experience for themselves. To an extent, I imagine Moore brought personal experience from aging in Hollywood to this role and it requires so much vulnerability and rawness to make the narrative cohere. It’s as compelling and committed a lead performance as I’ve seen all year and my hope is that Moore is in talks for Best Actress when Oscar season kicks in.

Following up her brutal debut Revenge, Coralie Fargeat demonstrates impeccable control over a story that could go terribly wrong in the hands of someone who wasn’t as passionately intelligent about the material. She’s making a movie that is, in large part, about the female form but the nudity is clinical and considered in the way that Jonathan Glazer was for 2013’s Under The Skin. The sexually-charged imagery is intentionally over-the-top and draws attention to the futility of pursuing physical perfection, as Margaret Qualley herself is performing with prosthetic enhancements. Fargeat also tips her hat to a handful of classics, with liminal spaces right out of The Shining and a pivotal music cue from Vertigo, another movie that involves female doppelgängers under intense male scrutiny. The Substance is a shot in the arm for those who have been bored by recent horror offerings.

Score – 4.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is The Wild Robot, an animated sci-fi film starring Lupita Nyong’o and Pedro Pascal, about an intelligent robot who is stranded on an uninhabited island after a shipwreck and subsequently bonds with the island’s animals.
Also playing only in theaters is Megalopolis, an epic science fiction movie starring Adam Driver and Giancarlo Esposito, centering around an idealist architect in a decaying city, who is granted a license by the federal government to demolish and rebuild the city as a sustainable utopia.
Streaming on Paramount+ is Apartment 7A, a psychological thriller starring Julia Garner and Dianne Wiest, involving a struggling dancer who finds herself drawn into dark forces by a peculiar couple promising her fame in 1960s New York.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

Transformers One

Fittingly, the Transformers franchise has undergone several metamorphoses since the animated television series debuted 40 years ago, with the corresponding The Transformers: The Movie being released in 1986. After five Michael Bay-directed live action movies, a Bumblebee spin-off and standalone sequel last year, the alien-robot hybrids return to the big screen in animated form with Transformers One. Coming over from the world of Pixar, Toy Story 4 director Josh Cooley brings a more playful touch to this origin story that doesn’t skimp on either the fast-paced action or platitude-laden speechifying. It’s the kind of reboot that succeeds at making a case for a kid-friendly Paramount+ series based around these characters, even if it doesn’t make for the most satisfying film on its own terms.

On their home planet of Cybertron, robot friends Orion Pax (Chris Hemsworth) and D-16 (Brian Tyree Henry) spend their days trading wise-cracks while mining for raw material known as Energon. In hopes of working their way up from the mines, they make a showing for themselves in the Iacon 5000 race and catch the attention of their intrepid leader Sentinel Prime (Jon Hamm). Desperate to locate the coveted Matrix Of Leadership so they can transform like their Prime heroes, Orion and D-16 team up with fellow robots B-127 (Keegan-Michael Key) and Elita-1 (Scarlett Johansson) to venture to Cybertron’s surface. But when they arrive, they uncover secrets that will forever change the fate of their planet.

Though their screenplay follows the formulaic beats we’d expect from a scrappy superhero saga, writing trio Eric Pearson, Andrew Barrer and Gabriel Ferrari punch things up with well-dispersed beats of humor. While it’s not as consistently funny or visually inventive as 2014’s The Lego Movie, Transformers One does possess a similar sense of play that coheres nicely with both movies’ origins in the toy world. The quartet of protagonists don’t gain the ability to “transform” until about halfway through the story, so there’s a more palpable spirit of reinvention when they gain their powers. Once that moment occurs, there’s a clear delineation of motivations between the altruistic Orion Pax and absolutist D-16 that fracture their friendship and set their courses for the rest of the narrative.

Even for a theatrical animated spectacle, Transformers One has a particularly stacked ensemble voice cast that also includes veterans like Steve Buscemi and Laurence Fishburne. Brian Tyree Henry, who’s also lent terrific voicework to the ongoing Spider-Verse series, is the standout here as a character whose disillusionment is believably transformed into rage and thirst for revenge. Chris Hemsworth channels similar notes of lovable oafishness that his MCU co-star Chris Pratt played for his lead role The Lego Movie — that is, until Orion Pax completes his evolution to Platitudenus Prime in the last 20 minutes or so. Scarlett Johansson and Keegan-Michael Key bring the no-nonsense resolve and comic relief chops, respectively, that are very much in their wheelhouses.

Down the stretch, Transformers One suffers from the same symptoms that have befallen many a prequel before it, where the third act moves too quickly in order for everything to click into place for the next chapter. Formative events fly by like fighter jets zipping through the sky and voiceovers are backed by urgent crescendos from the music score to underline their importance. But the ride up to that point is colorful and exciting enough for those who don’t have much experience with the world of Transformers to feel like they joined in at just the right time. Transformers One doesn’t reinvent the wheel but given this franchise’s popularity and longevity, perhaps it doesn’t have to.

Score – 3/5

More new movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is Never Let Go, a survival horror film starring Halle Berry and Percy Daggs IV, concerning a family that has been haunted by an evil spirit for years, whose safety and surroundings come into question when one of the children questions if the evil is real.
Also playing in theaters is The Substance, a body horror movie starring Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley, about a fading celebrity who decides to use a black-market drug, a cell-replicating substance that temporarily creates a younger, better version of herself.
Premiering on Netflix is His Three Daughters, a family drama starring Carrie Coon and Elizabeth Olsen, involving a trio of estranged sisters who come back together to care for their ailing father in his New York apartment.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice

Michael Keaton was one of the highlights in last year’s superhero goulash The Flash and at the tail end of this summer, he’s back reviving another character from a different 1980s Tim Burton classic after a lengthy hiatus. Fortunately, Burton has returned for directing duties as well in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, a legacy sequel that could have easily been a soulless excuse to pilfer from the bio-exorcist’s bedeviled brand but instead feels like a proper successor. Following a Dumbo remake that feels like it was workshopped within an inch of its life, it seems Burton is having real fun behind the camera again and the spirit of play is infectious. Sure, the storyline is too busy and the pacing gets away from him but when it comes to Burton movies, I’ll take amiably anarchic over anemically anonymous any day of the week.

Moving on from her goth teenage phase in Beetlejuice, Lydia Deetz (Winona Ryder) now uses her ghost-communing powers to host a talk show about haunted houses with her television producer boyfriend Rory (Justin Theroux). A death in the Deetz family brings Lydia, stepmother Delia (Catherine O’Hara) and Lydia’s daughter Astrid (Jenna Ortega) back to the small town of Winter River for the funeral. All the while, Lydia is plagued with pop-up visions of Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton), who has been carrying a flame for her in the afterlife while running a call center of shrunken head pencil-pushers who help the recently deceased with their questions. Various circumstances dictate that Lydia begrudgingly utter the titular demon’s name thrice and once she does, the real world and afterlife intermingle in appropriately kooky ways.

Screenwriters Alfred Gough and Miles Millar, who worked with Ortega on the wildly successful Netflix series Wednesday, pack their script with enough plot threads and fun characters that in another life, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice could’ve been a Max miniseries. At feature length, it moves at a blistering pace and even though there are plenty of imaginative ideas on the page, Burton probably would’ve done well to cut out some of the excess. After a pitch-perfect introduction, Monica Bellucci wanders around the rest of the movie as an undead jilted ex-lover looking for a way into the plot but never really getting there. Willem Dafoe is another welcome presence as ghost detective Wolf Jackson, a stunt-addicted action star when he was alive, but Burton can’t really decide how to handle his character either.

Jackson’s signature catchphrase is “you gotta keep it real” and Burton seemed to retain this ethos in regards to practical effects vs. computer-generated work in Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Much of the predecessor’s fun came from the demented creature design and creative use of stop-motion animation, among other peculiarities that make it one-of-a-kind. There are obviously more special effects in this sequel — after all, the entire budget for Beetlejuice‘s visual effects was $1 million — but the focus is still on tactile aspects like macabre costume design and creepy makeup as opposed to spitting everything out of a computer. There’s a musical number in the third act that kills and there’s even an extended Soul Train bit that commits fully to its goofy conceit.

What I appreciated most about Beetlejuice Beetlejuice is that it doesn’t feel like it’s trying to cater to a wider audience or reinvent itself for a new generation. Just like the original was its own thing when it came out, this movie has a go-for-broke spirit that Hollywood seems to be lacking when it comes to franchise moviemaking. The returning cast also seem giddy to be returning to their characters after a long break, with Keaton especially shining once again as his uncouth undead trickster demon. Ortega is playing a little bit too deadpan as the third-generation Deetz but given that her storylines center around a neighborhood crush and trying to reunite with her deceased father, her playing things straight isn’t much of a hindrance. Beetlejuice Beetlejuice caps off a summer of surprisingly strong sequels like Inside Out 2 and Twisters that prove follow-ups don’t have to fall back on familiarity to succeed.

Score – 3.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is Speak No Evil, a psychological thriller starring James McAvoy and Mackenzie Davis, about a family who’s invited to spend a weekend in an idyllic country house, unaware that their dream vacation will soon become a nightmare.
Also playing in theaters is The Killer’s Game, an action comedy starring Dave Bautista and Sofia Boutella, involving a veteran assassin who fends off a hit he placed on himself after learning the terminal medical diagnosis he received was incorrect.
Streaming on Netflix is Uglies, a science fiction film starring Joey King and Keith Powers, set in a future post-scarcity dystopian world in which everyone is considered an “Ugly,” but then turned “Pretty” by extreme cosmetic surgery when they reach the age of 16.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

The Deliverance

If there was ever a golden age of exorcism movies, we’re certainly not in it at this present moment. The reception for The Exorcist: Believer last fall was so lackluster that Universal Pictures scrapped plans for a proposed trilogy, while the Russell Crowe-led The Exorcism barely contributed to this summer’s box office haul. Now dropping on Netflix is The Deliverance, another dud of the subgenre that tries in earnest to tackle challenging subjects like poverty and alcoholism, before succumbing to the hoariest clichés in the possession movie playbook. It comes from director Lee Daniels, who broke out 15 years ago with the Oscar-winning Precious but has since struggled to capitalize on its success. This time he teams up with his The United States Vs. Billie Holiday star Andra Day, whose performance here is one of the film’s lone bright spots, as was also the case for the duo’s previous collaboration.

Day plays Ebony Jackson, a struggling mother of three whose husband is overseas serving in Iraq and whose ailing mother Alberta (Glenn Close) has clung closer to religion after her cancer diagnosis. For the third time in a year, they’ve relocated to a new house and Ebony has found a job at a salon to support her sons Nate (Caleb McLaughlin) and Andre (Anthony B. Jenkins) along with her daughter Shante (Demi Singleton). Everyone is doing what they can to make the new arrangement work but soon, flies and strange smells begin emanating from the decrepit basement. As is common for these types of films, the children begin exhibiting strange behavior and after several disturbing incidents, Ebony and Alberta are convinced that they’re being haunted by demonic forces. They reach out to the reverend of their church (played by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) to intervene and save their family from the clutches of the devil.

The Deliverance is based loosely on the true story of Latoya Ammons and her family, who claimed paranormal activity occurred in their Gary, Indiana residence in 2011. Because Indiana lacks the tax incentives and financial breaks that other states have in place for filming — the reason why even films that take place in our state often aren’t shot here — the adaptation was filmed in and takes place in Pittsburgh instead. As a storyteller, Lee Daniels seems to be most in his element when he’s covering the hardships and personal demons of Ebony, a protagonist as prickly as Precious was in the 2009 movie that shares her name. Andra Day gives a powerful performance as a mom who turns to the bottle when her back is up against the well, finding the humanity in a character who can be difficult to like, to say the least.

If The Deliverance only functioned as a family drama, it would still have issues overcoming the on-the-nose and tin-eared dialogue in the subpar script from David Coggeshall and Elijah Bynum. But around the halfway mark, the movie crossfades into a full-blown horror movie and the proceedings go downhill fast from then on. The tell-tale signs of demonic possession are belabored and the special effects rendered to demonstrate physical impossibilities are extremely unconvincing. It all leads to an inevitable climax where Ebony and the church pastor must confront the devil through an immured loved one. It’s a common occurrence in exorcism films that in these heightened moments, possessed characters will say offensive things to throw the religious interveners off-kilter. The Deliverance contains a line read that’s an all-timer of what I assume is unintentional comedy.

Besides Andra Day, no one else in the qualified cast can seem to find their footing. Omar Epps pops up as a chemotherapist who has the hots for Alberta and Mo’Nique portrays a comically evil social worker — “I got you now, Ebony Jackson,” she snickers in her first line, stopping short of twirling a proverbial mustache. But no one is more lost here than Glenn Close, who has been nominated for an Academy Award on 8 different occasions but has yet to secure one; she was a lock for Best Actress in 2019, until Olivia Colman came out of nowhere to pull out the upset. Since that time, she’s turned in some ponderous performances but she’s never looked as completely out of place in a movie as she is here. We can only pray that in the future, Netflix and other studios will deliver us from disoriented dreck like The Deliverance.

Score – 1.5/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, a horror comedy sequel starring Michael Keaton and Winona Ryder, which reunites the infamous bio-exorcist with the Deetz family after a portal to the afterlife is accidentally opened once again.
Also playing in theaters is The Front Room, a psychological horror film starring Brandy and Kathryn Hunter, telling the story of a newly pregnant couple who are forced to take in an ailing, estranged stepmother.
Premiering on Netflix is Rebel Ridge, an action thriller starring Aaron Pierre and Don Johnson, centering around an ex-Marine who grapples his way through a web of small-town corruption when an attempt to post bail for his cousin escalates into a violent standoff with the local police chief.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

Reel Views, Review

Sing Sing

Now playing at Cinema Center, the new prison drama Sing Sing stars Academy Award nominee Colman Domingo as John “Divine G” Whitfield, an inmate at the titular New York jail. He’s on the steering committee for the prison’s Rehabilitation Through The Arts (RTA, for short) program, a real-life initiative that sponsors a theatre group for the incarcerated. After completing A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Divine G and the rest of the group set their sights on their next project, which they decide should be more comedic and modern after just finishing Shakespeare. The volunteer director Brent (also Oscar-nominated Paul Raci) decides to take a pass at a script, which the group agrees should implement disparate themes from time travel to Egyptian pharaohs and a couple monologues for good measure.

Joining the group is Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin (playing himself), who auditions for the role of Hamlet — albeit, a variation on the typical Shakespeare version. Divine G, who just finished playing Lysander and is typically the lead in the plays they put on, is surprised when the committee chooses Divine Eye for the central role. Watching the relationship between the “Divines” develop is one of Sing Sing‘s inimitable treasures, beginning as a reluctant tutor-pupil narrative but slowly morphing into something richer and more meaningful. Divine G has been around for a while and written several of the scripts the theatre group has used for its productions, so he has trouble hiding his jealousy when Divine Eye comes onto the scene. Their conversations start with consternation, segue to reconciliation and eventually blossom with mutual admiration.

Like Divine Eye, most of the characters in Sing Sing are played by men who were formerly imprisoned and some of whom were members of the real-life RTA. Naturally, this gives the stellar ensemble cast an organic sense of collective purpose and effortless believability. Together with cinematographer Pat Scola, director and co-writer Greg Kwedar often frames the inmate characters in close-up, reclaiming the humanity and individuality that the prison system has taken from them. Film is a format of faces and seeing Sing Sing in a theater is to meet face-to-face with people we don’t always get to see on screen. Two characters I was drawn to most are Dino and Carmine, the former a quietly wise colossus and the latter a somewhat neurotic type who sports a nervous tic of wiping his brow, even when there’s no sweat present.

Sing Sing does indulge in dramatic clichés here and there, most notably through a handful of montages that showcase the actors running lines and sets being assembled for Breakin’ The Mummy’s Code, the production they’re putting together. Fortunately, they’re scored by Bryce Dessner, one of the guitarists in the rock band The National, who has also written music for quite a few independent movies over the past several years. I’ve generally enjoyed some of his film music so far but his work here stands as his most transcendent and life-affirming yet, enough to make one’s eyes swell even when it’s not accompanied by moving images. The themes tend to coalesce around Divine G’s mindset at any given point in the story, often hopeful and tender but tense and choleric in the wake of an unexpected tragedy with one of the RTA players.

Understandably, the emotional lynchpin of Sing Sing is Kwedar tapping into what makes programs like the Rehabilitation Through The Arts so vital to quality of life for those in prison. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the recently-released Netflix doc Daughters, which also centers around incarcerated men but involves a different program that allows them to reunite with their daughters for a special “daddy daughter dance” event. Both films beam with undeniable empathy and hard-fought optimism, showcasing a segment of society that is too often portrayed with preachiness and artifice when present in the movies. Sing Sing is a quietly moving reminder of the power that creativity and expressivity have in even the most dispiriting of settings.

Score – 4/5

New movies coming this weekend:
Coming to theaters is AfrAId, a sci-fi horror film starring John Cho and Katherine Waterston, involving a family who is selected to test a new home digital assistant device that develops self-awareness and interferes with their lives in disturbing ways.
Also playing in theaters is City Of Dreams, a thriller starring Ari Lopez and Renata Vaca, which chronicles the true story of a Mexican boy whose dreams of becoming a soccer star are shattered when he’s smuggled across the border and sold to a sweatshop in the United States.
Streaming on Netflix is The Deliverance, a supernatural horror movie starring Andra Day and Glenn Close, concerning a family living in an Indiana home who discover strange, demonic occurrences that convince them and the community that the house is a portal to hell.

Reprinted by permission of Whatzup

My thoughts on the movies