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Keira Knightley

“OFFICIAL SECRETS” My rating: B- 

111 minutes | MPAA rating: R

There are moments when “Official Secrets” doesn’t seem to know just whose story it is telling; others when the dialogue sounds more like speechifying than regular conversation.

Still, there’s something so vital about the material it covers — the British government’s complicity in the Bush White House’s half-assed plan to invade Iraq — that Gavin Hood’s fact-based docudrama demands to be seen.

In 2003 Katharine Gun, an analyst with Her Majesty’s spy service, received an unexpected email.  In this message — also received by all of her co-workers — the American CIA urged everyone to be on the lookout for dirt that could be used to force recalcitrant members of the United Nations Security Council into voting for a US/British invasion of Iraq.

Gun was both surprised that she received the email — her regular gig was translating intercepted Chinese telephone communications — and appalled that the Yanks and her own people were so nonchalantly encouraging the entire apparatus of British intelligence to participate in a blackmail scheme for the purpose of rushing into an unjust war.

So she surreptitiously copied the email and gave it to an anti-war activist friend, who passed it on to a newspaper reporter, who with his colleagues spent months verifying the truth of the communication.

Eventually the story was published, but not without some unexpected blowback.  Before it hit the printed page, an unsuspecting editor ran the copy through Spell Check, which changed all the American spellings in the CIA email to British, thus leading to accusations that this was a British-generated fake document.

Spell Check strikes again.

As scripted by Hood, Gregory Bernstein and Sara Bernstein (from Marcia Mitchell and Thomas  Mitchell’s book The Spy Who Tried to Stop a War), “Official Secrets” is essentially a procedural docudrama populated by an A-list British cast.

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“FIDDLER: A MIRACLE OF MIRACLES” My rating: B 

92 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Since it debuted on Broadway in 1964, not a day has passed when “Fiddler on the Roof” was not being performed somewhere on Earth.

The universal appeal of this musical about life in a Jewish village in Czarist Russia is examined every which way in “Fiddler” A Miracle of Miracles,”  Max Lewkowicz’s documentary summation of the show, its creators and its lingering appeal and influence.

Drawing as its starting point two recent NYC productions of “Fiddler,” one that ran on Broadway for two years and a second performed entirely in Yiddish, the film dips into the creation  of this most unusual effort. Scenes from these revivals — as well as clips from the 1971 movie version — hammer home once again just how spectacularly good the work is.

We’re talking goosebumps moments.

Happily, the geniuses behind the show — composer Jerry Bock, lyricist Sheldon Harnick, playwright Joseph Stein and producer Hal Prince — lived to ripe old ages and before their deaths (Prince left us only last month) sat down for insightful interviews on how the show came together.  (Jerome Robbins, the brilliant director, passed in 1998).

The film is part history, part testimonial, with actors, directors and others who have been associated with the musical — Lin-Manuel Miranda, Austin Pendleton, the Israeli actor Topol — commenting on its life-changing power.

Actor Joel Gray offers a common analysis when he says that “it works in so many languages — and everyone thinks it’s about them.”

Author Stein recalls attending a Tokyo production where an audience member asked him: “Do they understand ‘Fiddler’ in America? It’s so Japanese.”

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Linda Ronstadt then

“LINDA RONSTADT: THE SOUND OF MY VOICE” My rating: B+

95 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

This seems to be the season for music documentaries (“Echo in the Canyon,” “David Crosby: Remember My Name”) but the hands-down winner when it comes to pure musical pleasure is “Linda Ronstadt: The Sound of My Voice,” which will send you away convinced that its subject was the greatest pop female vocalist of all time.

Ron Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman’s film is covers Ronstadt’s life in straightforward fashion, beginning with her grandparents (her father’s people hailed from Mexico despite the Germanic-sounding name), her childhood in Tucson with a musical family, her move to LA as an 18-year-old, her brief stint as lead singer with the Stone Ponies…and then 30-some years of recording and performing greatness.

Ronstadt narrates the film — we don’t see her as she appears today until the very end — but the story is told from a variety of perspectives:  her fellow musicians (Jackson Browne, Dolly Parton, Don Henley, Rhy Cooder, Bonnie Raitt, Emmylou Harris), her producers and managers (David Geffen, Peter Asher), her one-time lover J.D.Souther and journalists who covered her (Cameron Crowe, Robert Hilburn).

This is the story of an immensely talented woman who often doubted her own abilities, yet nevertheless challenged herself to new heights…not only in pop fame but on Broadway (starring in Gilbert & Sullivan’s “The Pirates of Penzance”), as a purveyor of Sintra-ish torch songs (arranged by Nelson Riddle, no less), in a country trio with Dolly Parton and Emmylou Harris, and with traditional Mexican musicians (Ronstadt’s is the best-selling trad Mexican LP of all time).

Along the way she established an image (not that it was in any way calculated) as a playful, sexy, smart woman who went her own way.  She was a matter-of-fact feminist; no stridency, just effectiveness. (One source says that in her prime Rondstadt was “the Queen…like Beyonce is now.”)

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“TIGERS ARE NOT AFRAID” My rating: B 

83 minutes | No MPAA rating 

Combining the grittiness of Luis Bunuel’s 1950 landmark “Los Olivdados” with the psychological fantasy pioneered in recent years by Guillermo del Toro, “Tigers Are Not Afraid” plunges into the life-and-death struggles of orphaned children  on the mean streets of a contemporary Mexican metropolis.

The young actors starring in Issa Lopez’ brooding and violent drama were never shown a script. The film was shot in sequence, so that the players didn’t know what was coming next; their reactions are more-or-less genuine.

The resulting film is equal parts documentary realism and  nightmarish fairy tale.

Estrella (Paola Lara) and Shine (Juan Ramon Lopez) are at the heart of a “family” of children who do what it takes to survive. They sleep in makeshift tents, or in abandoned buildings, on rooftops and in alleys.

As we see in flashbacks, most of these kids once had normal lives: parents, school, a permanent address.

But now they are on their own, their mothers and/or fathers murdered or “disappeared” in the roiling drug war  that has claimed 160,000 Mexican lives over the last two decades. They spend a good part of each day outsmarting members of the Huascas gang, local drug lords who would shanghai the the boys as runners and soldiers and pimp out the girls.

It’s a grim life, and as a survival mechanism young Estrella — through whose eyes the story is told — imagines herself allied with fantastic creatures.  Traumatized by her mother’s sudden disappearance, she’s convinced that a fierce tiger graffiti-sprayed on a wall comes to life to protect her. At other times she imagines that a flowing trickle of blood follows her, climbing stairs and zig-zagging across walls and ceilings.

She also hears eerie whisperings — ghosts giving her warnings.

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David Crosby now

“DAVID CROSBY: REMEMBER MY NAME” My rating: B-

95 minutes | MPAA rating: R

As a founder of the Byrds and a long-standing member of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young,  David Crosby can claim to be rock ‘n’ roll royalty.

His musical accomplishments, though, are overshadowed by a personal history that features three heart attacks, a liver transplant, diabetes and epic drug addictions which in 1983 earned him a five-years sentence in a Texas prison.

Now 78 years old, estranged from his former bandmates  and still touring to keep a roof over his family’s head, Crosby looks back on his life and career in “David Crosby: Remember My Name,” the first feature documentary from director A.J. Eaton.

The film has a solid first hour, then loses focus and sort of drifts off in its final 30 minutes.

Still, there is much to admire here, for this is no warm dip into fuzzy nostalgia. The white-haired Crosby comes off as brutally honest about his failures: “Big ego. No brain.”

He was, he admits, a massive jerk.  Only after his legal comeuppance forced him to go cold turkey in a jail cell did he get his life in order; he reports that until his stint in prison he had never performed straight.  Not once.

In matters of sex, he recalls, “I was a caboose to my dick…there are borders I’ve crossed you’ve never heard of.”

The son of Hollywood cinematographer Floyd Crosby (“High Noon”), young David grew up in an emotionally stifled environment.  Rock music was his salvation.

The doc features vintage footage of the mid-60s Byrds in performance; Crosby’s main contribution was an unerring ear for vocal harmonies.

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Jillian Bell

“BRITTANY RUNS A MARATHON” My rating: B 

113 minutes | MPAA rating: R

The title character of “Brittany Runs a Marathon” does indeed participate in the famous 26.2-mile run through New York’s five boroughs…but Paul Downs Colaizzo’s film isn’t really about running.

Rather this comedy/drama, alternately hilarious and emotionally abrasive, is about the slow journey to self acceptance.

That may sound like a slog, but — like training for a marathon — it pays off in unexpected ways.

Brittany (Jillian Bell) is a 28-year-old Queens resident with a lifestyle that is slowly killing her.  She subsists on junk food, she gets drunk regularly, she dispenses b.j.s in a nightclub men’s room.

According to her physician, Brittany’s  body mass index qualifies her as obese (she indignantly accuses him of fat shaming); meanwhile her blood pressure is soaring and her liver isn’t looking so good.

Brittany is a lonely mess, although she works to hide that with buckets of self-deprecating and/or aggressive humor.  lf she can’t be loved (she’s never been in an actual relationship) she might as well be amusing.

Sometimes, though, all she can do is bawl.  One of her wailing sob sessions draws the attention of her upstairs neighbor, Catherine (Michaela Watkins), a middle-aged photographer Brittany usually ridicules as a bourgeoise poseur.  But Catherine ignores the abuse and in a display of compassion invites Brittany to join her  weekend running group.

Our girl’s first attempt at jogging is hilariously terrible — at least she can share her shame and frustration with another newbie, Seth (Micah Stock), a funny gay guy running to fulfill a promise to his husband and their young son.

But with the support of Catherine and Seth — and encouraged by the loss of a few pounds — Brittany devotes herself to loping through the mean streets of NYC. The trio make a pact: they’ll run in next year’s New York Marathon. Continue Reading »

Michelle Williams

“AFTER THE WEDDING” My rating: C+

110 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

“After the Wedding” offers the spectacle of fine performances in an uphill battle against melodramatic drek.

Written and directed by Bart Freundlich and based on the 2006  Danish film of the same name (part of the experimental Dogme 95 movement that eschewed studio filming and post-production dubbing…not even a musical score), this remake’s main claim to fame is that it changes the sex of the main characters.

Isabel (Michelle Williams) lives and works in India where she is devoting her life to that country’s countless orphans.  When word arrives that an American benefactor wants to give her operations millions of dollars, Isabel is both excited and suspicious.  Her charity desperately needs the money, but it will require a trip to New York City for a series of interviews — and Isabel is loathe to leave her young charges.

But it’s a deal too good to pass up, which is how she finds herself sitting across the table from Theresa (Julianne Moore), the fabulously successful owner and operator of a Manhattan media placement company.

Isabel arrives with tons of statistics about child prostitution in India and the country’s armies of abandoned children, but Theresa is distracted. Her daughter is getting married in a day or two and she’s preoccupied with last-minute decisions about the lavish soiree on the family’s posh Long Island estate.

Sorry, Theresa says.  Can’t concentrate on Indian orphans right now. Come to the wedding…we’ll talk on Monday.

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“ONE CHILD NATION” My rating: B+ (Now on Netflix)

90 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Americans — thoughtful ones, anyway — know all about collective guilt.

After all, under our belts we’ve got 200 years of slavery, the decimation of the continent’s aboriginal population, internment camps for loyal Japanese Americans…and President Donald J. Trump.

That’s just for starters.

But we’re given a run for our money by China, which for nearly 40 years enforced its one-child-per-family rule with millions of involuntary sterilizations and abortions.

The  moral weight of that experience is at the heart of “One Child Nation,” a devastating documentary that starts out as an examination of personal history and quickly becomes an indictment of an entire culture.

The film follows Nanfu Wang (who co-directs with Jialing Zhang) as she returns to her birthplace in China (she’s now a U.S. resident).  Visiting her native village in Jiangxi Province she interviews older citizens — including her schoolteacher mother and the burg’s former mayor — about the one-child policy that was in effect from 1979 to 2015.

At the time it was the largest example of social engineering in the world; the filmmakers display TV ads, posters, parades and songs designed to make the one-child effort as important as buying bonds during wartime.

Mostly Wang’s subjects toe the party line, declaring the policy a great success which prevented mass starvation and allowed China to slowly build itself into the economic powerhouse we see today. They’re proud to have done their duty and by doing so to have guaranteed the survival of their country.

But bit by bit horror stories come slithering out.  The former mayor talks about standing to one side, shamefully unable to act or to interfere when authorities arrested women found to be illegally pregnant.

A midwife sorrowfully estimates she was responsible for as many as 20,000 forced abortions — often involving weeping, pleading women who had to be tied down for the operation.  Many of those aborted fetuses were late-termers capable of surviving outside the womb. They were strangled. This same woman now devotes her life to good deeds, hoping to expunge the bad karma she has built up over decades.

At one point the filmmakers stumble across a dumpster filled with snapshots of aborted babies.

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Taylor Russell, Steve Coogan

“HOT AIR” My rating: C

99 minutes | No MPAA rating

Given our current political climate you’d expect a movie about a right-wing radio pundit to have at least a little bite.

“Hot Air,” though, is a particularly toothless affair.

Scripted by Will Reichel directed by Frank Coraci (“The Wedding Singer,” “The Waterboy”), this film offers the spectacle of Steve Coogan — perhaps our greatest portrayer of supercilious asshattery — as radio blowhard Lionel Macomb, a self-described “deliverer of hard truths” who daily takes on liberal women (“I prefer to go by only one last name”), immigrants (“I don’t think we should build a wall… a moat would be more effective”), climate change and socialized medicine.

He’s been pretty successful at this, as shown by his posh high-rise apartment and impeccably tailored wardrobe.

Of course, he is so hated in some quarters that Lionel can only walk to his car from his broadcast center flanked by a phalanx of bodyguards.

Into Lionel’s toxic world comes a breath of fresh air…his 16-year-old niece Tess (Taylor Russell) whom he has never met.  Tess’ mom, Lionel’s estranged sister, is an off-and-on druggie currently in rehab.  Young Tess pretty much blackmails Lionel into giving her a place to stay…it wouldn’t look good if a millionaire who rails constantly about welfare cheats throws his own flesh and blood into the welfare system.

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“THE PEANUT BUTTER FALCON” My rating: B

93 minutes | PG-13

So adept are the makers of “The Peanut Butter Falcon” at provoking laughter and tears that it may take a few hours for the rosy glow to wear off, at which point the viewer realizes he has fallen for a narrative con job.

But it’s such an effective con that most of us will shrug off any flickers of resentment in order to prolong the experience’s many satisfactions.

This feature debut from the writing/directing team of Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz opens in a retirement home where one resident stands out.

Zak (Zack Gottsagen) is 22-year-old with Downs syndrome.  Recently orphaned and deemed incapable of caring for himself, this unfortunate ward of the state (in this case, Georgia) has been warehoused among  dementia-plagued seniors.

Sounds grim, but the screenplay and direction immediately announce that it’s okay to laugh. Early on Zak elicits the cooperation of his fellow “inmates” to stage a jail break.  It’s short lived because even running at top speed Zak is hopelessly slow.

Meanwhile Tyler (Shia LaBeouf) mans a one-man fishing boat working the Outer Banks. He’s a bearded outcast not above raiding the crab pots of other fishermen; after starting a fire that destroys a rival’s precious equipment, Tyler finds himself on the lam.

“…Falcon” throws together  Zak — who has run away wearing only a pair of tidy whities and dreams of becoming a professional wrestler  — and the fugitive Tyler, who slowly warms to his new companion’s hilarious innocence.

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