Feeds:
Posts
Comments

“POOR THINGS”: Pilgrim’s progress

January 6, 2024 by butlerscinemascene

pilgrim’s progressEmma Stone

“POOR THINGS” My rating: B+ (In theaters)

141 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Yorgos Lanthimos’ “Poor Things” delivers such a unique vision, so elaborate a palette of visual wonders, so much wickedly sly humor that one is willing to forgive a padded running time and a draggy third act.

Although its literary sources are obvious enough (“Frankenstein” is a biggie; so is
“Candide”) the film’s wondrously weird sense of self is unlike that of any movie I can think of.

And it gives Emma Stone, the star of Lanthimos’ “The Favourite,” the role of a lifetime.

Here she plays Bella, a grown woman who behaves like an infant. 

“Her mental age and body are not quite synchronized,” explains Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe), the hideously scarred eccentric whose home/laboratory is populated with bizarre animal hybrids (like a duck with a dog’s head). 

Godwin — Bella addresses  him as “God” — views  his ward as both his daughter and as an experiment.  He will educate this blank slate, raise her to be a reflection of his own genius.

Willem Dafoe, Emma Stone

He tolerates her childlike misbehavior (Bella routinely smashes dishes and plates just for the thrill of noisy destruction), having determined that she has an incredibly high learning curve.

In just a matter of weeks she goes from syntax-twisted baby talk to more-or-less full sentences.

Sometimes she stares in birdlike fashion off into space (reminds of Elsa Lanchester as the Bride of Frankenstein); at other times she devotes all her faculties to examining (and often destroying) some new object in God’s cluttered abode.

Now would be a good time to mention the astounding production design courtesy of Shona Heath and James Price.  “Poor Things” begins in London circa 1900 and later moves to the Continent, but historical accuracy is jettisoned in favor of a sort of Gaudi-inspired steampunk ethos.  The picture is filled with weirdly shaped and decorated rooms, bizarre ships (both seagoing and aerial), and city environments that ooze fanciful theme park artificiality.  

The sumptuous photography by Robbie Ryan (“American Honey,” “The Favourite”) embraces both crisp black and white and pastel-infused color, and his frequent use of wide-angle lenses captures a visual warp that nicely echoes the gnarly subject matter.

The great joy of “Poor Things” lies in watching Stone’s Bella blossom into her own person.

She’s abetted along the way first by Max (Rami Youssef), a sincere medical student hired by God to be Bella’s companion, teacher and possible husband, and later by  unprincipled lawyer Duncan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo), who spirits Bella away for a European debauch and introduces her to the wonders of sex. (Or, as she calls it, “furious jumping.”)

(Ruffalo’s comic performance falls just short of mellerdramer mustache-twirling; his depiction of Duncan’s selfish pomposity is hugely amusing, and almost makes me forget his terrible turn in “All the Light We Cannot See.”)

Bella learns and grows. Initially she moves with the jerky tentativeness of a newborn colt; before long she’s doing a funky dance of her own creation. Her vocabulary blossoms.

Emma Stone, Mark Ruffalo

What doesn’t change is her singular outlook.  Her intellect rockets right past societal norms. She has no filter and so invariably utters the truth in situations which call for discretion.

She even develops a sense of empathy and is distraught at the plight of the urban poor she discovers on her sojourn (this passage is a nifty parody of the Buddhist legend in which the privileged Prince Siddhartha ventures from his palace to discover for the first time the plight of his aged and diseased subjects).

Eventually her adventures lead to a stint in a Paris brothel where she succinctly identifies what each customer needs (men are so pathetically transparent) and delivers with a minimum of fuss, becoming rich in the process. (It’s not that Bella is immoral; she’s utterly amoral.)

Eventually the yarn returns to London where we learn of Bella’s origins and her life as the wife of a thuggish noble (Christopher Abbott).  Happily, her world-expanding experiences have prepared her to deal even with the most rampant and institutionalized chauvinism.

For its first 90 or so minutes “Poor Things” is like a birthday party in which every minute delivers a new present to unwrap. It’s a cinematic feast that just keeps on giving.

But things start to bog down in the Paris section…Lanthimos aims for raunchy laughs, with lots of nudity and cartoonish coupling (the easily offended should steer clear). But after a while the film starts to repeat itself. Yeah, yeah, we get it. Men are swine or arrested adolescents. The effect could be had in a fraction of the time it’s given here.

In fact, “Poor Things” would benefit hugely from some tightening. Less is more.

Nevertheless, the movie is a fantastic achievement. And you leave with a newfound sense of respect for the artistry and adventurousness of Emma Stone.

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

SHORT TAKES: “Leave the World Behind,” “Bank of Dave,” “Anatomy of a Fall”

January 4, 2024 by butlerscinemascene

Mahershala Ali, Ruth Scott, Julia Roberts, Ethan Hawke

“LEAVE THE WORD BEHIND” My rating: B- (Netflix)

138 minutes | MPAA rating: R

The latest from writer/director Sam Esmail, creator of TV’s mind-twisty “Mr. Robot,” has been getting equal parts love and hate from Net-dwellers. 

 I’m stuck in the middle.

It’s an end-of-civilization movie, sort of, with a family from the Big Apple (Mom and Dad are Julia Roberts and Ethan Hawke) retreating to a rental home on Long Island for a little R&R, only to find the world falling apart around them.

Cell phones stop working. Cable TV goes out. The Internet is down.

There’s still running water and electricity…but for how long?

And then there’s the huge oil tanker that has run aground on a nearby beach and the passenger airplanes that are dropping out of the sky.

The highways are impassable (in one haunting scene dozens of driverless Teslas pile up in the roadway in a suicidal demolition derby) and the local deer seem to be suffering from a mass psychosis.

Emotions accelerate when the owner of the rental house (Mahershala Ali) shows up with his surly college-age daughter (Ruth Scott). Mom immediately becomes suspicious of these interlopers, especially since Ali’s high-powered businessman brings with him vague reports of a mass terrorism event.

What’s it all about? Keep guessing. Like Hitchcock’s “The Birds,” which it resembles on many levels, “Leave the World…” isn’t about providing answers. Its emphasis is on the reactions of the characters, who respond to undefined threats by turning on one another.

To say that the film delivers an ever-tightening sense of dread is an understatement.  The acting is about as good as what you’d expect from such a high-powered cast, but I was especially taken with Farrah Mackenzie as the couple’s daughter, a tweener with the face of a 35-year-old and a need to see the final episode of “Friends” that transcends even the end of the world.

Joel Fry, Roy Kinnear

“BANK OF DAVE” (Netflix)

107 minutes | PG-13

Dave Fishwick is the real-life George Bailey (the character played by James Stewart in “It’s a Wonderful Life”).  

More than a decade ago Fishwick, who runs several van and recreational vehicle dealerships in northern England, decided to create a small bank for local residents whose loan applications had been rejected by the established financial institutions.

Over the years Fishwick had found that whenever he loaned money to needy citizens, they invariably paid him back. Often with interest although Fishwick, a wealthy fellow, didn’t ask for that.

So why not make it official?

“Bank of Dave” stars Roy Kinnear as the irrepressible and astonishingly altruistic Dave, and Joel Fry as the young London attorney who comes to the boonies to help him overcome the many legal hurdles in his path.

Because the world of British banking was, until Dave Fishwick, a closed shop. No new bank charters had been approved in more than 150 years, and the powers that be — represented here by Hugh Bonneville as a titled (and entitled) elitist — didn’t want a guy like Dave offering an alternative to their tight-fisted and probably corrupt monopoly. They were ready to play dirty.

Fishwick’s story was the subject of a three-episode Brit documentary back in 2012. Now, under Chris Foggin’s workmanlike direction, this David-and-Goliath fictitious version delivers a whole lot of feel-good.

There’s a subplot in which the lawyer falls for an idealistic M.D. (Phoebe Dynevor), lots of  colorful locals who ooze community and a self-help ethos, and even an appearance by Def Leppard, the famous hair metal rockers who gave a free concert to raise startup money for the Bank of Dave. 

None of this is terribly surprising dramatically, but “Bank of Dave” sucks you in.

Sandra Huller

“ANATOMY OF A FALL” My rating: B+  (Rent on Prime, Apple+, etc.)

151 minutes | MPAA rating: R

A man plummets to his death from an upper story of his house.  His wife is charged with his murder.

That’s the setup examined with procedural detail in “Anatomy of a Fall,” but this description barely scratches the surface of writer/director Justine Triet’s methodical drama.

The body of Samuel Maleski (Samuel Theis) is discovered by his vision-impaired son Daniel (Milo Machado Graner) lying below a balcony of the family’s chalet in the French Alps.  

The cause of death is a blow to the head, but whether Samuel suffered the injury in the fall or was struck on the noggin before going down cannot be determined. There’s a chance this was a suicide.

The authorities, though, charge Samuel’s wife Sandra (Sandra Huller) with his murder. 

At least half the film unfolds in a courtroom where Sandra’s attorney (and one-time flame) Vincent (Swann Arlaud) struggles to counter the grim portrait of his client painted by the aggressively, red-gowned prosecutor (Antoine Reinartz).

It’s not like the state doesn’t have a lot to work with. 

Sandra is a German whose grasp of French is tenuous enough that she asks that the trial court to be conducted in English. So that’s pissing off the jingoists in the courtroom.

She’s a successful novelist who may have borrowed/stolen the idea for her last book from her husband. She is admittedly bisexual. 

Most damning of all, Sandra is emotionally aloof. Is she an unfeeling cold fish? Or is she simply reluctant to air her innermost feelings for public consumption?

On the other hand, Samuel was despondent over his own failed career and his responsibility in the unexplained accident that led to young Daniel’s blindness. He was toying with his meds. He may have attempted suicide by pills a few weeks earlier.

In the film’s most dramatic passage the prosecution plays a recording of a family argument made by Samuel shortly before his death (we see it unfold in flashback). It’s brilliant stuff, with Samuel arguing from his emotional viewpoint and Sandra rebutting with cool (and infuriating) rationality.

A verdict is finally reached, but even then we’re left wondering just what happened.

The acting is off the charts.  Huller (“Toni Erdmann” and the upcoming “The Zone of Interest”) exudes sexual, moral and emotional ambiguity. It’s not like we like her, but we are definitely invested.

Young Garner is astonishingly fine as the blind son, while a border collie named Messi gives a jawdropping perf as Snoop, the family pooch.  The dog is so good that director Triet often films from his vantage point just a couple of feet above the floor.

 | Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

WHAT I’M WATCHING: “Slow Horses,” “Bookie,” “Lessons in Chemistry”

January 3, 2024 by butlerscinemascene

Gary Oldman, Jack Lowden

“SLOW HORSES” (Apple+): 

In the same way that the novels of John LeCarre epitomized Cold War espionage, the spy stories of Mick Herron nail the rudderless amorality of our current situation.

In Herron’s Slow Horses series (read them…they’re the best spy novels EVER) the enemy is not so much the Russkies or Jihadists as it is the power-hungry politicians and behind-the-scenes manipulators who would bend Britain’s espionage apparatus to their own twisted ends.

Going in I doubted that a TV adaptation could match the wonders of Herron’s prose, but I’ve been proven wrong.  “Slow Horses” is utterly captivating…hilarious, infuriating and suspenseful.

And it offers Gary Oldman at his absolute best.  Oldman’s Jackson Lamb is a disheveled, flatulent alcoholic who after a career as a field agent has been demoted to lead Slough House, a dead end posting for spies who have screwed up.

Lamb is unrelentingly cruel to his loser minions (the show is a veritable cornucopia of inventive insults), but he remains a master spy, and even from the bitter exile of Slough House (whose inhabitants are contemptuously dismissed as “slow horses”) he has the brains and inventiveness to run circles arounds his corrupt “betters.” 

This perf has “Emmy” written all over it.

Our main “good guy” is River Cartwright (Jack Lowden) who came to the service as the grandson of a legendary spy master and shamed his family by flunking a training test in a very public way.

But all of the horses have their own morosely funny backstories (substance abuse, hacking, gambling) which are examined over the show’s three seasons (there’s at least one more to go). 

And as their nemesis we have the magnificent Kristin Scott Thomas as Diana Taverner, second-in-command of His Majesty’s spy service and determined to move into the top slot by any means necessary.

Sebastian Manicalco, Omar J. Dorsey

“BOOKIE” (MAX): 

The same sort of freewheeling capitalism-on-steroids energy that propelled HBO’s “Ballers” is a big factor in “Bookie,” a drop-dead funny half-hour comedy about a couple of LA oddsmakers who aren’t nearly tough enough for their chosen line of work.

Danny (standup Sebastian Manicalco) is more or less joined at the hip with Ray (Omar J. Dorsey). Danny is the brains of the outfit; Ray, a former footballer, provides the muscle.

Only problem is they’re all bluff…basically they put on a threatening show, but panic when it comes to actual violence.  

Which means that the degenerate gamblers who owe them money are always squirming out of paying up. (Charlie Sheen appears in several episodes, portraying a smarmy gambling addicted version of himself.)

It’s sort of a criminal version of the “Odd Couple.” Danny and Ray spend WAY more time with each other than with their womenfolk, have their own zinger-heavy language, and share a dread of taxes, responsibility and 9-to-5 jobs.

The revelation for me was Maniscalco’s performance. He was really good in his brief turn as Crazy Joe Gallo in Scorsese’s “The Irishman,” but that didn’t prepare me for the superb timing and subtlety of expression he displays in every episode of “Bookie.”

This is laugh-out-loud stuff.

Brie Larson

“LESSONS IN CHEMISTRY” (Apple+)

Oscar-winner Brie Larson makes a rare trip to the small(er) screen to embody the alluring/austere heroine of Bonnie Garmus’ best seller.

Her Elizabeth Zott is a brilliant chemist who, alas, is the wrong sex.  The series begins in the 1950s and the chauvinists who run the big research lab where she works cannot see Elizabeth doing anything more challenging than making the perfect cup of coffee for the “real” scientists.

Her prickly personality doesn’t help.  Elizabeth doesn’t flirt, is indifferent to the usual standards of femininity and has been cursed with the need to speak truth to conventional manliness, even when not in her best interest. She suffers from a form of social autism.

But love finds her in the form of nerdy Calvin Evans (Lewis Pullman), the firm’s top chemist, who becomes her lover and lab partner.

Fired when she becomes  an unwed mother, Elizabeth ends up at a local TV station where, in a page from the Julia Child playbook, she becomes a sensation with an afternoon cooking show that breaks down recipes to their molecular basics. (She’s a chemist, after all.)

Covering nearly 15 years, “Lessons in Chemistry” carries not only a strong protofeminist message, but deals with the growing  Civil Rights movement (Elizabeth lives in a  predominantly black neighborhood).

There’s a huge supporting cast, but this is essentially Larsen’s show…she takes a stand-offish, brittle character and somehow makes her inspirational and aspirational. 

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments »

WHAT I’M WATCHING: “Fellow Travelers,” “Poker Face,” “Julia”

December 27, 2023 by butlerscinemascene

Jonathan Bailey, Matt Bomer

“FELLOW TRAVELERS” (Showtime, Paramount+): 

“Fellow Travelers” is the gay “The Way We Were” — an epic intimate romance spanning decades and peppered with political and cultural landmarks.

Not to mention the most graphic sex scenes this side of Pornhub. 

Remember when straight people used to wonder just what it was that gay guys did to each other in the sack?

Wonder no more.

Ron Nyswaner’s 8-part adaptation of Thomas Mallon’s novel centers on the on-again, off-again obsession shared by the charismatic and impossibly handsome Hawk Fuller (Matt Bomer), a rising star in the U.S. diplomatic corps, and mensch-y Tim Laughlin (Jonathan Bailey), a naive newcomer to D.C.

Hawk and Tim meet in the early ‘50s just as the government’s ranks are being cleansed of homosexuality by right-wing Sen. Joe McCarthy (Chris Bauer) and his Machiavellian sidekick and closet queer Roy Cohn (Will Brill).

The romance intermittently continues through Hawk’s marriage to a Senator’s daughter (Allison Williams) and Tim’s stint as a seminarian and anti-war activist. 

Throughout the two men remain unlikely bedfellows…Hawk is an unapologetic hedonist skilled at hiding his homosexuality, while Tim is an idealist who outs himself fairy early on.

But like they say, you can’t choose who you love.

The yarn stretches into the 1980s, the Harvey Milk assassination and the rising AIDS crisis. At the same time the show’s mood shifts from furtive paranoia to proud self-acceptance.

Periodically the drama switches to the experiences of Marcus Gaines (Jelani Alladin), a black gay journalist chafing under the  yoke of self-suppression.

Acting and production values are off the chart.  But I wonder about the show’s time-bending narrative, zapping back and forth across the years. Sometimes it seems like obfuscation for the sake of obfuscation.

Still, “Fellow Travelers” packs a huge emotional wallop.

Natasha Lynne, Benjamin Bratt

“POKER FACE”(Peacock):

A little Natasha Lyonne goes a long way. After a while that Runyon-esque verbosity and self-referential hipness can wear thin.

“Poker Face” solves the problem by having its star appear deus ex machine-style halfway through every episode to solve a murder.

The premise: Charlie Cale (Lyonne) is on the run after crossing a casino-operating crime family. She’s persona non grata at the tables because she has been blessed/cursed as a human lie detector.  She knows when another player is bluffing.

Each episode starts out with a different murder in a town into which Charlie has washed up.  

One episode is about the members of a has-been punk rock band (Chose Sevigny is the snarling lead singer) who kill their drummer so they can claim writing rights to his song.  

Another finds a woman and her brother-in-law murdering the husband, the founder of a Deep South barbecue empire who is threatening everything by going vegan. 

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is a soulless white-collar criminal holed up in a snowbound motel in the Rockies and covering up a hit-and-run death.

Each situation is set up well before Charlie stumbles into the scene to solve the crime with her psychic ability.  And to make matters even more interesting, she’s being followed on her cross-country flight by a mob enforcer (Benjamin Bratt).

“Poker Face” employs creative storytelling (just about every episode has an extended flashback to show us how we got to where we are) and the repartee from Lyonne is often screamingly droll.

David Hyde Pierce, Sarah Lancashire

“JULIA” (MAX):

The single best performance I’ve seen in recent months belongs to Brit actress Sarah Lancashire, who so fully embodies famed TV chef Julia Child that it’s less acting than alchemy.

Geeks for Brit TV know Lancashire as a lesbian headmistress in “Last Tango in Halifax” and as a long-suffering small-town cop in “Happy Valley,” both solid perfs but only an appetizer for the gluttonous feast that is “Julia.”

Now in its second season, “Julia” (created by Daniel Goldfarb of “Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”) is a deep dive into Child’s life, from the very creation of her TV show on a small Boston station to her worldwide fame.

But it’s as much about the private woman as it is the public icon.  Her marriage to former CIA guy Paul Child (David Hyde Pierce) is examined on almost a molecular level.

And while Lancashire absolutely nails Julia’s mannerisms and vaguely ridiculous vocal patterns, what really blew me away is that her Julia is — wait for it — a sexual creature.

Middle-aged love is viewed here not as a joke but as a celebration. Who’d have figured?

There are plenty of sideshows reflecting the political and social ethos of the late 50s and early 60s.

Robert Joy and Fran Kranz are the station drones who give Julia a chance. 

Isabella Rossellini is Julia’s traditionalist writing partner for the famous cookbook; Fiona Glascott is their editor, while Judith Light is both touching and infuriating as a doyen of publishing now circling the drain.

There are plenty more strong supporting players, especially Bebe Neuwirth as the Childs’ widowed best friend.

I used think of Julia Child as a sort of comic relief.  But clearly there was a lot more to the lady. 

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

SHORT TAKES: “The Iron Claw,” “Past Lives”

December 24, 2023 by butlerscinemascene

“THE IRON CLAW” My rating: B+ (In theaters)

132 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Less a wrestling movie than a Greek tragedy in Spandex, “The Iron Claw” is based on the real story of the Von Erich brothers, a family of professional grapplers who came to prominence in the 1980s.

Writer/director Sean Durkin is way less interested in the ring action (although there’s plenty of it nicely staged) than in presenting a portrait of family dysfunction so complete that the first thing we hear in the voiceover narration is that the clan is cursed.

Literally.

Our main  protagonist is Kevin Von Erlich (Zac Efron, pumped almost beyond recognition), who like his three brothers has been raised by their father, Fritz (Holt McCallany),  to excel at the family tradition.

Back in the day Fritz was on his way to a wrestling title, but claims it was denied him by the “bastards” who run the business. Now he’s determined that one — or better still, all — of his boys wear the big belt. (Along with ambition the boys have inherited from Dad the “iron claw,” a skull-squeezing wrestling move.)

Initially the Von Erichs’ life on a ranch outside Dallas seems semi-idyllic.  There’s farm work, endless hours pumping iron in the home gym, big family dinners and church on Sunday.

The boys — Kevin, Kerry (Jeremy Allen White), David (Harris Dickinson) and Mike (Stanley Simons) — revere their father and want nothing more than to please him.

Over the course of a decade their dedication will prove itself more than dangerous.  It’s deadly.

The film has been superbly acted (other cast members include Maura Tierney as the uber-religious mother and Lily James as the veterinary student who falls hard for Kevin) and despite the raucous acrobatics of the fight scenes the overwhelming mood is one of ever-tightening desperation and sadness.

Not a happy story, but beautifully done.

Teo Yoo, Greta Lee

“PAST LIVES” My rating: B (For rent on Prime, Apple+, etc.)

105 minutes | PG-13

Astonishingly delicate and quivering with emotional possibilities, Celine Song’s “Past Lives” wonders what would happen in childhood sweethearts met up many years later.

In the film’s opening scenes, set in South Korea, we are introduced to Nora and Hae Sung, 12-year-olds whose platonic friendship might over time become something more.

But Nora’s parents emigrate to Canada. Twenty years later the grown Nora (Greta Lee) lives in NYC with her husband Arthur (John Magaro). Their lives are settled and largely uneventful.

And then word arrives that Hae Sung (Teo Yoo) will be visiting the Big Apple and would like to reconnect.

It’s a setup rife with erotic possibilities, most of which writer/director Song keeps on the back burner. “Past Lives” is much more about its characters’ emotional interiors than physical betrayal.

Off the bat it’s obvious that while Nora has achieved a level of mature sophistication, Hae Sung is stymied in a sort of sad adolescence. He still lives with his parents and is indifferent when it comes to a career. 

Apparently he’s lived two decades in “what could have been” mode.

The film is mostly conversations between the two old friends as they walk around the city.

Arthur, meanwhile, is trying to stifle his anxiety that he might lose his wife…his alienation is heightened by his inability to participate in their intimate conversations in Korean.

“Past Lives” is one of those films in which nothing seems to happen, while emotionally all sorts of stuff is going on. The performances are really terrific, with Teo Yoo creating a portrait of sweet longing so heartbreaking you want to give him a hug.

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

SHORT TAKES: “The Color Purple,” “The Boys in the Boat,” “American Symphony”

December 24, 2023 by butlerscinemascene

Taranji P. Henson

 “THE COLOR PURPLE” My rating: B- (In theaters)

 140 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Good but not great, the new musical version of “The Color Purple” is a largely faithful adaptation of Alice Walker’s Pulitzer-winning novel.

But what does it say that while watching it I was constantly reminded of Steven Spielberg’s 1985 non-musical version? Weirdly enough, the original film feels fresher to me than this new iteration. 

The reason for this can be summed up, I believe, in two words: Whoopi Goldberg.  Goldberg was so fantastically good, so consummately entertaining as the long-suffering Celie  in the original that by comparison the musical’s Celie — “American Idol” winner Fantasia Barrino  in her feature film debut — seems a bit meh.

Not bad, just meh. This Celie is always having things happen to her; she is more a pawn of fate than a discernible personality.

That’s not an issue with other members of the virtually all-black cast: Tara P. Henson’s Shug Avery,  a lusted-after bluesy songstress, or Colman Domingo’s Mister, a study in toxic/stupid chauvinism, or Danielle Brooks’ Sofia, who tragically learns that her strong-willed independence is problematic in a white man’s world.

The story covers nearly a half century and Kris Bowers’ songs reflect most of the salient black musical styles of the era, from solo-guitar Delta blues to work chants, big band blues shouting, gospel, cakewalks and proto-soul. These numbers work fine within the framework of the story, but none struck me as particularly earworm-worthy. I didn’t go home humming them.

The production values offered by director Biltz Bazawule and his design staff are first-rate, as is the staging of most of the musical numbers. They are the film’s highlights.

In its final moments this “Color Purple” hit some of the emotional notes I’d been looking for…it took a while to get there.


Callum Turner (center)

”THE BOYS IN THE BOAT” My rating: B (In theaters)

124 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Let’s admit upfront that George Clooney’s “The Boys in the Boat” is a superficial drama densely packed with sports-movie cliches.

This makes it no less enjoyable.

For one thing, the cliches — training montages, a romantic subplot, the “big game” — are applied to the world of crew racing, the details of which most of us are ignorant.

So the film — a slightly fictionalized version of Daniel James Brown’s best-seller —immerses its audience  in an exotic sport in which individual excellence and ambition must be subservient to the group effort.  

When you’re rowing with eight other guys you do NOT want to stand out. It means you’re the broken cog in the well-oiled machine.

Mark L. Smith’s screenplay is set in the months leading up to the 1936 Berlin Olympics. Our nominal hero is Joe Rantz (Callum Turner), a pennyless University of Washington student who lives in a  burned-out car in a Depression-Era homeless encampment in Seattle; he tries out for crew simply because it offers its rowers three squares a day and a roof overhead.

We learn the punishing sport along with Joe and his crewmates, most of whom never are developed beyond a first impression.   Only a couple stand out. 

Coxswain Bobby Moch (Luke Slattery) is a small guy capable of bullying/coaxing his muscled rowers to greatness. (Since coxswains don’t row, every pound they add to the load is a liability.) And there’s Don Hume (Jack Mulhern), the crew’s strongest member but so painfully shy his friends aren’t sure he can speak.

Somewhat more fleshed out is Coach Al Ulbrickson (Joel Edgerton), desperate to end his reputation as an also-ran in the crew world, and perhaps George Pocock (Peter Guinness), the old fellow who designs and builds the boats and becomes a sort of philosophic mentor to Joe.

There is considerable inspirational speechifying, and many an observation about rowing being more poetry than sport.

But if the characters are barely developed, the boys’ David-and- Goliath story and the care with which Clooney and Co. recreate the crew world are utterly captivating.

Cheer yourself sick.

Suleika Jaouad, Jon Batiste

“AMERICAN SYMPHONY” My rating: A- (Netflix)

104 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Jon Batiste is a brilliant musician.

He’s an even better person.

That’s the takeaway from “American Symphony,” a documentary that originally was to chronicle Batiste’s efforts to write an orchestral piece but became about something far greater.

I knew going in that Matthew Heineman’s film would follow two tracks.  

First, there is Batiste’s creative journey in writing and performing “American Symphony,” an opus not only for orchestra but for jazz musicians, operatic singers, chanting Native Americans, Hispanic folk artists…it’s a real kitchen sink approach.

And then there’s the second plot, centering on Batiste’s wife Suleika Jaouad, a musician and essayist who found herself battling the leukemia she had originally beaten years earlier.

The portrait of Batiste that emerges here is that of a deeply spiritual man who embraces compassion as a lifestyle, who after a day of rehearsing and arranging for his work’s debut at Carnegie Hall would spend the night at the bedside of his wife.

Watching I kept asking myself if under the same circumstances I could be so patient, caring and supportive.

Doubtful.

It’s not like Batiste is an incarnation of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.  He gets exhausted.  He admits to periods of depression. We see him having a texting session with his psychoanalyst.

But his innate goodness somehow always comes to the fore.

I cried easily and often watching “American Symphony,” a testament not only to human creativity but to humanity’s capacity for love. 

It’s one of the best cinematic gift we’ll get this Christmas.

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

“MAESTRO”: An armload of Oscars

December 22, 2023 by butlerscinemascene

Bradley Cooper, Cary Mulligan

“MAESTRO” My rating: A (Netflix)

129 minutes | MPAA ratingL R

Here it is, folks.  The year’s best film.

From the very first frame of “Maestro” we know that we’re in good hands.

Some movies are like that.  They flow effortlessly, leading us into their visual and aural landscape. They know what they’re about. They have their own personalities.

Bradley Cooper’s film (he directed, co-wrote and stars in it) centers on the relationship of real-life composer/conductor Leonard Bernstein and his actress wife, Felicia Montealegre.

It was not your conventional marriage.  Lenny (Cooper) was unapologetically bisexual. Five minutes into the film we see him waking up in bed with another man. At one point he addresses the new baby of friends, asking “Do you know that I slept with both your parents?”

But Felicia (Carey Mulligan), exhibiting a way-ahead-of-the-curve tolerance, buys into their partnership knowing the score. In her book, love is tolerant to a fault.

Here’s what I relish about “Maestro”: You can feel yourself falling in love as these two characters do.  Their repartee is amusing, seductive, astonishingly honest. You want to be part of it.

And like Lenny and Felicia we’re so smitten that we don’t think about how difficult it will be to maintain a mutually satisfying equilibrium.

The acting?  Holy crap it’s good.

Bradley Cooper

Cooper, with a bit of help from a prostethic nose, absolutely nails the Leonard Bernstein we recall.  He’s got the vocal patterns perfect, and on the podium he exhibits the intense joy and bodily enthusiasm that made him the most identifiable conductor in the world.

But he’s just as effective as the private Lenny, a man who was about as matter-of-fact when it comes to sex as is humanly possible. The problem, of course, is that few of us are so hangup free.

Mulligan’s Felicia is his perfect match. She is utterly supportive of her husband and children, but as time goes on Lenny’s escapades start to wear. Mulligan has a few moments of transcendent fury.

Expect Oscar nominations for both.

For that matter, comedian Sarah Silverman is astonishingly good in the straight role of Bernstein’s sister. 

Covering nearly 50 years of modern American cultural history, “Maestro” draws its musical score mostly from Bernstein’s compositions: “West Side Story,” “On the Waterfront,” “Candida,””Fancy Free,” not to mention samplings of various orchestral and choral works.

Yet it never becomes a “and-then-I-wrote…” musical biopic.

Lenny’s career is always there in the background, but its his relationship with Felicia (and later with his daughter Jamie, played by Maya Hawke) that provides the narrative and emotional spine.

Most of the film has been shot in gloriously rich black and white (Matthew Labatique is the cinematographer), with every frame meticulously composed for maximum effect. (Cooper reportedly has been working on the project for a decade; he has left little to chance, yet “Maestro” feels fresh and spontaneous.)

There are moments here that can leave a viewer in tears, both for our beautiful possibilities and for our inevitable shortcomings. In giving us the story of a great artist and his loved ones Bradley Cooper has tapped into the transcendent.

Can this really be only his second feature as director?  There’s a sort of Orson-Welles-makes-“Citizen Kane” wonder and audacity at work here.

Let’s just give him an armload of Oscars and be done with it.

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 4 Comments »

SHORT TAKES: “Dream Scenario,” “You Hurt My Feelings,” “Albert Brooks: Defending My Life”

December 6, 2023 by butlerscinemascene

Nicolas Cage

“DREAM SCENARIO” My rating: B (HBO Max)

102 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“See you in my dreams” takes on comedic/sinister possibilities in Kristoffer Borgli’s “Dream Scenario,” featuring Nicolas Cage at his most bleakly amusing.

Cage’s Paul Matthews is a bearded, balding, bespectacled professor of evolutionary biology at a small college.  He’s bland and boring (it’s all the kids can do to stay awake in class); at home he is just tolerated by his marriage-weary wife (Jiulianne Nicholson) and their two teen daughters.

In other words, Paul’s a nobody.

Until, that is, total strangers report seeing him in their dreams.  Initially this phantom Paul simply walks through or observes what’s happening to the slumbering citizens. Even in dangerous situations he doesn’t react…he’s as ineffectual in dreamland as he is in real life.

But as the phenomenon grows, Paul becomes famous.  Thousands, nay, millions of people around the globe are encountering him while they snooze.

Paul tries to parlay his notoriety into a book deal (one advertising whiz kid wants him to somehow endorse a soft drink during his somnambulant visitations). But as time goes by there are disturbing developments.  Dreamers report that Dream Paul has violently attacked them. Sexually assaulted them, even.

And suddenly, through no fault of his own, the dull professor is an object of hatred and disgust.

“Dream Scenario” frequently shifts from the “real” world to depictions of the characters’ dreams; by the time it’s over you may be guessing which is which.

This is only writer/director Borgli’s second feature after numerous shorts; he’s clearly a talent to watch for.

Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Tobias Menzies

“YOU HURT MY FEELINGS” My rating: B  (For rent on various streaming services)

93 minutes } MPAA rating: R

Nicole Holofcener, our foremost chronicler of contemporary angst, scores again with “You Hurt My Feelings.”

It’s a comedy about how people lie so as not to hurt each other’s feelings. And perhaps end up doing even more damage.

Our main characters are Beth and Don (Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Tobia Menzies), New Yorkers with what appears to be an ideal marriage.  She’s a writer seeking a publisher for her second book.  He’s a clinical psychologist.

A big part of their marriage is offering mutual encouragement. Which also means never doing or saying anything discouraging…even if you have to fib about it.

So when Beth asks Don to read her new book, he’s full of praise.  Phony praise, as it turns out.  He just wants to be supportive.

Holofcener  gives us a smorgasbord of characters —the couple’s twenty something son (Owen Teague), Beth’s sister and neurotic actor brother-in-law (Micheala Watkins, Trey Santiago-Hudson),  her kvetching mother (Jeannie Berlin) and various of Don’s patients (David Cross, Amber Tamblyn, Zach Cherry) — most of whom muddle through by saying not what they think but what they think  other people want to hear.

“You Hurt…” is often laugh-out-loud funny (nobody surpasses Louis-Dreyfus in the sarcastic putdown department) but ultimately makes a telling point: it’s virtually impossible to survive in this modern world without lying.

“ALBERT BROOKS: DEFENDING MY LIFE” My rating: B+ (HBO MAX)

88 minutes | No MPAA rating

If you don’t already consider Albert Brooks (born Albert Einstein) a comedy genius, this documentary from Rob Reiner makes the point repeatedly.

Turns out that Reiner and Brooks were school pals and have been buds ever since; “…Defending My Life” is something of a valentine to Brooks’ eccentric and eclectic talents.

There are priceless clips of his early conceptual comedy (he was Andy Kaufman before there was an Andy Kaufman), scenes from the many movie’s he’s directed (“Modern Romance,” “Lost in America,” “Defending Your Life”) and of the acting he’s done for others (“Drive,” “Finding Nemo,” “Taxi Deriver,” “Broadcast News”).

A big chunk of the film is devoted to a conversation between Reiner and his subject…it’s like hanging out with a couple of good friends.

And there’s a small army of Brooks-loving celebs (James L. Brooks, Larry David, Judd Apatow, Tiffany Haddish, Jonah Hill, Conan O’Brien, Chris Rock, Sarah Silverman, Steven Spielberg) to give testimonials.  Nobody seems to be kissing ass here…their sincere admiration is so genuine you could use it as a heating pad.

 | Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

SHORT TAKES: “Priscilla,” “Showing Up”

December 5, 2023 by butlerscinemascene

Cailee Spaeny, Jacob Elordi

“PRISCILLA” My rating: B- (In theaters)

113 minutes | MPAA rating: R

The star-crossed saga of Elvis and his child bride Priscilla Beaulieu has been retold so often that Sofia Coppola’s “Priscilla” will hold few surprises for Presley-holics.

What the film does offer is a dreamlike take on a teenage girl swept off her feet by the Earth’s most famous man. (Coppola and Sandra Harmon’s screenplay is based on Priscilla Presley’s memoir; Presley was a producer of the film.)

It was a romance destined to fall apart. The initially charming rock star became increasingly controlling and, after Priscilla gave birth to a baby girl, turned his back on the marital bed in favor of frat-house partying with his notorious “Memphis Mafia” of good ol’ boys.

In the title role Cailee Spaeny undergoes a remarkable physical and emotional transformation over the course of the film. Though virginal (Elvis wouldn’t consummate the relationship until marriage), her Priscilla isn’t entirely naive about the pitfalls in her path.  In a sense “Priscilla” is a study of her painfully blossoming emotional maturity.

Brit actor Jacob Elordi doesn’t attempt an Elvis imitation so much as an approximation…and it pretty much works.  Note that we don’t see Elvis performing any of his hits; instead the film’s soundtrack is heavy on other late-‘50s artists. 

Michelle Williams

“SHOWING UP” My rating: B (For rent on various streaming services)

107 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Filmmaker Kelly Reichardt once again finds the perfect voice for her cinematic minimalism in Michelle Williams, here almost unrecognizable as a drabbed-down middle-aged artist.

When not performing administrative drudge work at an urban art school, Williams’ Lizzy devotes herself to her sculptures — foot-high ceramic statues of women caught in moments of expansive movement or somber contemplation. To the extent that the film has a plot, it’s about Lizzy preparing for a one-woman show at a small local gallery.

Mostly we eavesdrop on her life. She lives alone with a cat. (Is she straight? Gay?)  Her best friend and landlord Jo (Hong Chau, an Oscar nominee for “The Whale”)  is a fiber artist who is as outgoing and vivacious as Lizzy is dour and brooding.  

Lizzy’s divorced mother is also her boss; her father (Judd Hirsch) is a well-regarded (and egotistic) potter, now retired.  There’s also a schizophrenic brother (John Magaro) favored by their parents as a genius, though he’s unable to hold a job.

What we get here is a portrait of a woman as gray as the colorless clothes she favors, but nevertheless devoted to creating art, even though she’ll never make a living off it. At least she’s showing up.

And as much as “Showing Up” is a personality study, it is also an astonishingly lived-in depiction of a world whose inhabitants are devoted to creating.  Anyone familiar with an art school environment will find the film almost a documentary experience.

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

“MAY DECEMBER”: Bruised psyches

December 1, 2023 by butlerscinemascene

Natalie Portman, Julianne Moore

“MAY DECEMBER” My rating: B  (Netflix)

117 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Todd Hayne’s “May December” takes a lurid page from recent pop history and turns it into a troubling deep dive into bruised and battered psyches.

Set in moss-adorned Savannah, Samy Burch and Alex Mechanik’s screenplay centers on a visit from a Hollywood star.

Elizabeth Barry (Natalie Portman) has come to  town to research a role in an upcoming film. 

Specifically she’s here to interview and observe Gracie Yoo (Julianne Moore), the real-life woman she will be portraying.

When they first meet Gracie is hosting a raucus pre-graduation party for her college-bound twins and their friends. She’s obviously a perfectionist when it comes to wifely/motherly duties, but exhibits just enough world-weary Mom humor to soften her need to dominate every situation.

She appears determined to create a forced atmosphere of normalcy.

Right off the bat we notice something odd. There’s this guy, Joe (Charles Malton), about 20 years younger than Gracie who sometimes seems like a quiet servant. Is Joe her son? If so, isn’t that a rather disturbing kiss she plants on him?

What we quickly come to learn is that nearly two decades earlier Gracie and Joe were the center of a huge scandal.  The then-36-year-old Gracie had an affair with seventh grader Joe. She ended up having his baby in prison; they married upon her release and now have three offspring (the oldest, born behind bars, is already in college). 

And, yes, “May December” is clearly inspired by the story of the late Mary Kay Letourneau. 

In a sense the film is a detective story, with Elizabeth interviewing participants in the sordid saga:  Gracie’s blindsided first husband (D.W. Moffett) and emotionally burned-out adult son (Cory Michael SmithI), the pet shop owner (Charles Green) in whose storeroom the illicit lovers were found in flagrante delicto, Gracie’s supportive best friend (Joan Reilly).

Julianne Moore, Charles Melton

Outwardly, anyway, Gracie seems to have come through it all more or less intact.  She claims to have “no doubts, no regrets.” She keeps busy baking cakes for friends and running her household.

But behind closed doors she is often weepy and anxiety-riddled, sobbing in the arms of Joe, who in her presence smothers his own individuality in order to give unquestioning support.  Their dynamic is truly squirm-worthy.

Gracie —who is less than thrilled with Hollywood having another go at her story (some years earlier there was a tacky made-for-TV movie) — tells Elizabeth that it was 13-year-old Joe who seduced her, not the other way around.

“May December” is less interested in discovering who’s to blame than in examining the damage done.  The film explores level upon level of these characters…just when you think you’ve got one of them pinned down they do something that requires a quick reassessment.

Among those under the microscope is Elizabeth herself.  Ostensibly she’s our narrator/guide through this emotional minefield, but at some point we’ve got to ask if her show of friendship isn’t just another acting job. Clearly she’s determined to wring every bit of nuance out of Gracie’s story and to get there isn’t above creating collateral damage of her own.

In that regard “May December” is an indictment of show-biz duplicity and exploitation. Rarely has a film cast such a jaundiced eye on an actor’s process.

The acting is terrific. Moore and Portman, of course, are among our best film actresses. 

But the film’s real discovery is Melton, a veteran of TV’s “Riverdale” (he’s also a K-State alum) whose Joe undergoes the most striking transformation. Initially he seems to have almost no personality; get him away from Gracie, though, and you find an individual trap between childhood and adulthood, struggling to come to grips with a troubled past.

| Robert W. Butler

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »