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Archive for July, 2024

Jessie Buckley, Olivia Colman

“WICKED LITTLE LETTERS” My rating: B- (Netflix)

100 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“Wicked Little Letters” is so crammed with familiar faces from Brit film and television that it’s a bit like reading the Equity membership list.

As it turns out, all that U.K. talent is what keeps the film from sliding into a morass of uneasily shifting tones. Or more accurately, the film suffers from neck-twisting tonal shifts but the great acting keeps us hanging in there.

Purportedly based on a real incident (I have my doubts) this effort from writer Jonny Sweet and director Thea Sharrock unfolds in the picturesque oceanside burg of Littlehampton in the years after World War I.

The first familiar face to greet us is the great Olivia Colman, here portraying the middle-aged spinster Edith Swan.

Edith lives with her parents, the domineering Edward (Timothy Spall!!!)  and his long-suffering wife Victoria (Gemma Jones).  She is shy, pious, unworldly, cowed by her father and oozes a goodie-two-shoes attitude that makes you want to slap her up the side of the head.

Here’s the problem.  Edith has been receiving filthy notes from an anonymous persecutor.  This mystery creep dishes sexual crudeness and personal insults in language that could make a longshoreman blush.  

Mother Victoria is quite undone by this onslaught of vileness; father Edward demands that the local police find the perpetrator.

Suspicion almost immediately falls on the family’s next door neighbor, Rose Gooding (Jessie Buckley), a foul-mouthed, hard-drinking Irish war widow (or so she says) with a young daughter (Alisha Weir) and a live-in boyfriend (Malachi Kirby).  

Until recently Rose and Edith had a sort of friendship (Edith sees it as her Christian duty to reach out to her hell-raising neighbor), but they’ve drifted apart.  And then the wicked little letters began arriving.

The screenplay covers a lot of ground.  There is, of course, Rose’s legal predicament.  Charged with libel, she faces a year in prison and the loss of her child.

Then there’s the rampant chauvinism in which the film’s menfolk are steeped.  Papa Edward is only the most obvious example.  The police are sexist swine — we get an eye- and earful through the experiences of Gladys  (Anjana Vasan), the town’s sole female officer, who slowly becomes convinced of Rose’s innocence.

When the officials decline even to look for other suspects, Gladys teams up with a couple of local ladies (Joanna Scanlan, Eileen Atkins) to secretly sleuth out the situation.

What they find…well, no sense giving too much away (even though most viewers will see it coming).  Let’s just say that beneath the thin veneer of stiff-upper-lip propriety that dominates all aspects of British life there bubbles a cauldron of repressed sexuality and wanton rebellion that just has to assert itself.

Categorizing “Wicked Little Lies” is problematic.  At times it’s broadly satiric, even silly…and then it dips into gut-wrenching melodrama as it examines the plight of the wrongly-accused Rose.  The two attitudes are never reconciled — director Sharrock does a terrific job of creating a believable setting, but can’t find a way to pull all the pieces gracefully together.

| Robert W. Butler

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Angela Nikolau, Ivan Beerkus

“SKYWALKERS: A LOVE STORY” My rating: B (Netflix)

100 minutes | MPAA rating: R

If the usual horror movies no longer creep you out, spend some time with the young protagonists of “Skywalkers.” This doc will leave you sweating, swaying and palpitating. 

Angela Nikolau and Ivan Beerkus are Russian twenty somethings who practice extreme climbing, also known as rooftopping.  They get their kicks — and earn a living — by sneaking (or breaking) into high-rise buildings, climbing to the very top floor and then shimmying up the narrow spires that point to the heavens.

The climb is only part of it.  Once on top of the world Angela and Ivan take photos and videos that they sell worldwide through the Internet.  

Often Ivan will lift Angela over his head in a death-defying pas de deus. She will change into fancy costumes and then pose on the precipice like a runway model with a death wish. They employ drones which often fly around the summit, inducing in viewers a massive case of vertigo.

It’s beautiful.

It’s terrifying.

Jeff Zimbalist’s documentary centers on the couple’s attempt to climb Kuala Lumpur’s Merdeka, at 118 stories the second tallest structure in the world. 

The local authorities have already nabbed other climbers and sentenced them to long prison sentences. Angela and Ivan try to reduce the risks by doing all their planning in nearby Thailand and only going to Kuala Lumpur on the eve of their climb, scheduled to coincide with a big World Cup game which, hopefully, will keep construction workers and security guards looking at their TVs and not for intruders.

(Narratively, the film bears a close resemblance to “Man on Wire,” the Oscar-winning documentary about Philippe Petit’s 1974 tightrope walk between the World Trade Center towers.)

“Skywalkers” calls itself a love story, and it is that, too.  Angela, who has the lithe figure and acrobatic instincts of a ballerina, comes from a broken family and discovers with Ivan not only personal romance but also an sense of accomplishment.  They may be viewed as a troublesome Bonnie & Clyde by the authorities, but they see themselves as practitioners of a new art form.

The most riveting moments are provided by the footage the two climbers get from the Go-Pro cameras they carry with them. We feel like we’re on the climb with them.  And the views are spectacular (they’re usually so far up there are clouds below them).

On the ground…well, I wonder if  what we see there is genuine documentary footage or after-the-fact re-enactments.  I say this because the interactions between the two lovers seem so carefully staged, the camera angles and editing so sophisticated, that I have a hard time accepting that this was fly-on-the-wall cinema verite footage. It looks too polished.

But there’s no doubt about the authenticity of the climbs themselves.  They’re a visual assault that’ll leave you gasping for breath.

Jude Law, Alicia Vikander

“FIREBRAND” My rating: B (On demand)

221 minutes | MPAA rating: R

The makers of “Firebrand” want very much to  examine  a famous bit of Tudor history through a feminist perspective.

It’s a little ironic, then, that the overwhelming personality on display is that of good old Henry VIII, played so memorably by Jude Law that I wouldn’t be surprised to see him get an Oscar nod.

Directed by Karim Ainouz and scripted by Henrietta Ashworth, Jessica Ashworth and Elizabeth Fremantle, “Firebrand” centers on Katherine Parr, the last of Henry’s six wives.

Queen Katherine (a makeup-free Alicia Vikander) is, initially at least, so trusted by the King that he leaves her in charge of the country while he’s off battling Frenchmen.  

But Katherine thinks for herself.  She is particularly troubled by Henry’s Church of England which, after a few years of relatively liberalism (commissioning an English translation of  the Bible so that the common citizen could read the Gospels). has now retreated into control-freak mode just as smothering as the now-outlawed Catholicism.

Early in the film Katherine sneaks off to visit her childhood friend Anne Askew (Erin Doherty), an intellectual, preacher and fugitive for her incendiary opposition to the English Church’s iron-fisted version of Protestantism.  

That meeting will come back to haunt her when Katherine is accused of betraying her royal hubby.  And we all know how Henry dealt with wives who didn’t please.

For a while it appears that “Firebrand” is going to get lost in the weeds of period politics and cultural minutiae.  All that changes when Henry returns from France and Law takes over the proceedings.

Sexy Jude Law as bloated, bloviating Henry VIII?  Doesn’t sound like that should work.

But with a prosthetic stomach and a bristly beard Law makes a seemingly effortless transformation.  His Henry is suffering from a gangrenous leg that eventually will kill him, but not even pain and the prospect of death can curb his emotional sadism and casual brutality. 

Moments of human frailty and emotional neediness are eclipsed by episodes of anger and physical violence.  The guy may be king, but he’s a loathsome mess. And the most compelling thing in the film.

In its final stages “Firebrand” blows off actual history for a “what if” approach that will induce winces from dedicated Anglophiles but proves satisfying from a dramatic viewpoint. Hey, it’s only a movie.

| Robert W. Butler

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“THE BEAR – SEASON 3” (Hulu)

Liza Colon-Zayas, Jeremy Allen White

Some of the early reviews of the latest season of “The Bear” were so pissy I delayed watching the new episodes lest I find myself in a blue funk of disappointment.

Happy to say that the reports of the show’s demise were premature. 

Not just premature, but spectacularly off base.

Okay, I get that viewers who demand heavy plotting and forward momentum are going to be a bit disappointed.  Not all that much happens in a narrative sense this season.

The relationship of sad-eyed Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) with pediatrician Claire (Molly Gordon), whom he more or less dumped last time out?  Barely addressed.

The radical  transformation of the family’s seedy sandwich shop into a high-end restaurant?  Pretty much completed…mostly now just a case of settling in.

The maturation of the sad sack screwup Ritchie (Evan Moss-Bachrach)  into a motivated, hard-working maitre d?  Been there, done that.

There are crises, of course.  Carmy is so hellbent on making his restaurant stand out that he insists on changing the menu every freaking day, pretty much guaranteeing kitchen chaos and a level of employee discontent.

(By the way…Carmy is so disturbingly moody this time around that he practically becomes a ghost in the background.)

The joint is yet to get an official review from the critics, and everyone is on pins and needles waiting for that make-or-break moment.

Uncle Jimmy (Oliver Platt), who financed the new operation, is getting nervous about ever getting any of his money back what with Carmy’s spendthrift quest for excellence.

And No. 2 chef Sydney (Aye Edebiri) has drawn the attention of another restauranteur who wants to make her his partner…with a huge raise, pension and medical benefits.  Will she strike out on her own or stick with Carmy and his manic-but-mostly-depressive mood swings?

In lieu of sweeping drama (or comedy…the Emmy people insist on categorizing “The Bear” as a comedy even though it exhibits a dramatic soul unequaled by virtually any other series) the scripts by creator Christopher Storer delve deep into the personalities of the characters…characters about whom most of us care more than we do about our own neighbors. 

And entire episode is devoted to the backstory of the  hot-tempered Tina (Liza Colon-Zayas) detailing how her desperate search for a job — any job — found her being taken under the wing of Carmy’s brother Michael (Jon Bernthal).

Evan Moss-Bachrach, Abby Elliott

Another episode follows sister Sugar (Abby Elliott) into labor.  Shot almost entirely in close-ups in a hospital delivery room, the segment is once again rocketed into the stratosphere by the hovering presence of her and Carmy’s borderline nuts mother (Jamie Lee Curtis).

Even the oafish Fak brothers (Ricky Staffieri, Matty Matheson) are revealed to have soulful depths beneath their street-corner slob exteriors.

But throughout the season we are treated to a dozen or so conversations between characters that usually start out as casual encounters but  end up leaving us immersed in the depths of their personalities.  Think you know everything about these folks? There’s plenty yet to discover.

And the final episode is nothing short of a heartfelt valentine to the men and women of the restaurant business.  

One of Chicago’s most acclaimed chefs (she’s played by the brilliant Olivia Colman…we met her briefly last season) is calling it quits and invites all of her fellow chefs from across the city to her restaurant on closing night.

The segment is populated with real Chicago chefs.  We eavesdrop on conversations and reminiscences. Funny stories are told.  A long-simmering enmity reaches a near-flash point.

It’s often amusing, but also achingly bittersweet.  The restaurant business often gets a bad rap — horrible hours, fierce pressure, addictions and anger — but by the time this season wraps up you’re left with a feeling of deep respect for the people who have made it their life’s work to feed the rest of us.

All together now: “Yes, Chef!!!!!”

| Robert W. Butler

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“OUTSTANDING: A COMEDY REVOLUTION” My rating: B (Netflix)

100 minutes | No MPAA rating

Part history lesson, part celebration of out culture, Page Hurwitz’s “Outstanding” digs into the world of gay standup comics.

Remarkably, Hurwitz has so much material to work with that there’s merely a passing reference to Ellen DeGeneres, the once and future queen of gay comics.

There are the usual clips of the comics doing their thing on stage and on the TV screen.  Among the notable talking heads who help put it all in perspective are Bruce Vilanch, Rosie O’Donnell, Guy Barnum, Lily Tomlin and Margaret Cho.

Big chunks of the doc are devoted to iconic gay performers like Robin Tyler (quite possibly the first out comedienne of the modern era) and style icon and angry observer Sandra Bernhard, who added some spice to the boring Reagan years.

And near the end the film looks into the rise of the new lesbian comics like Fortune Feimster and  Hannah Gadsby.

If I have a criticism of the film it’s that it overwhelming deals with lesbian comics over gay men…although much attention is paid to Eddie Izzard, whose embrace of trans ethos puts him in a class by himself.

Some of the artists featured here are worthy of stand-alone documentary treatment.  But the omnibus approach taken by Hurwitz provides an effective look at the variety and breadth of gay comedy…and whets the viewer’s appetite for more.

Eddie Murphy

“BEVERLY HILLS COP: AXEL F” My rating: C (Netflix)

118 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Early on in “Beverly Hills Cop: Axel F” Eddie Murphy’s cop Axel Foley is admonished:

“Watch your ass out there. You’re not 22 any more.”

Wise advise. The folks who made this movie should have heeded it.

This effort from director Mark Molloy and a small army of writers (Danilo Bach, Daniel Petrie Jr., Will Beall) tries to recapture the magic of the original 1984 “Beverly Hills Cop,” a magic that has been slipping away a bit more with every sequel.

The filmmakers bring back old cast members (Judge Reinholt, John Ashton, Bronson Pinchot) and toss in a couple of newbies (Joseph Gordon Levitt, Kevin Bacon and Taylour Paige, Murphy’s real-life daughter here playing Axel’s estranged offspring).

But the real problem is that they expect the 63-year-old Murphy to portray the same insouciant, fast-talking, street hustling Axel Foley of 40 years ago. That Axel was a sassy kid. The new Axel is closer to grumpy old man.

The plot finds our man leaving Detroit for L.A. when his long-alienated daughter, now a criminal attorney, is threatened by a dirty cop running the city’s anti-drug unit. There’s no mystery here; we know from square one that Kevin Bacon’s character is badly bent and it’s just a matter of time and several chase scenes before Axel wraps everything up.

There is some modest pleasure in seeing Murphy share the screen with his child; Paige is adequate in the angry daughter role, but there’s nothing here to write home about.

Mostly this new Axel adventure reminds us of just how good Murphy was a couple of years back in the rollicking and oddly heartfelt “Dolemite Is My Name.” More of that, please.

Kieran Shipka, Stanley Tucci

“THE SILENCE”  My rating: C+ (Netflix)

90 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

My initial review of “The Silence” began with these words: “The Silence” is such a blatant ripoff of “A Quiet Place” that John Krasinksi should be collecting its residuals.

We’re talking about a family being stalked by sightless creatures that respond to sound.  The only reason this particular bunch have a fighting chance is that they all know sign language thanks to a teenage daughter who is hearing impaired.  They can communicate without talking.

Here’s the thing. Apparently “The Silence” was based on a book published in the mid-teens, and was in production at the same time as “A Quiet Place.” Which raises the question of whether Krasinski’s film ripped off the premise of “The Silence.”

To this I have no answer. I will observe, however, that “A Quiet Place” is the superior film.

whatever. “The Silence” has been reasonably well made by director John R. Leonetti.  And he has assembled a surprisingly classy cast.

The always-reliable Stanley Tucci is the father.  Miranda Otto (the “Lord of the Rings” franchise) is the mother.  There’s the deaf daughter (Kieran Shipka…she played Dan Draper’s kid on “Mad Men”), a little brother (Kyle Breitkopf), an asthmatic grandma who always coughs at the wrong time (Kate Trotter) and a family friend (John Corbett) who seems to have better survival skills than his fellow city dwellers.

The baddies are  aerial lizards, about the size of flying squirrels.  One can mess you up, but when they attack as a flock you’re a goner. (Hmmm….maybe some of this film’s profits should go to the Hitchcock estate…there are a lot of visual references to “The Birds”.) Anyway, the special effects are convincing.

It’s a survival story with the family escaping civilization and trying to find a safe spot out in the sticks while avoiding the usual dangers of the post-apocalyptic playbook (tongue-less religious zealots, anyone?).

A momentary escape from reality.

| Robert W. Butler

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