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“BOMBSHELL: THE HEDY LAMARR STORY”  My rating: B 

88 minutes | No MPAA rating

The tragedy of Hollywood icon Hedy Lamarr (1914-2000) is that of a brilliant intellect trapped in a gorgeous body.  “People never got past her face,” laments one of her children.

That’s the premise, anyway, of “Bombshell,” a documentary biography by first-time director Alexandra Dean that explores Lamarr’s dual careers:  She was a big star but a crappy actress who became the inspiration for Disney’s Snow White and D.C. Comics’ Cat Woman; behind the scenes she was an inventor whose pioneering work led to today’s cellular age.

Along the way she became an enigma, a woman of so many different aspects, according to her son, “that even I couldn’t understand her.”

Even as a child the former Hedy Kiesler went her own way.  Her  parents treated her to the intellectual and artistic riches of their native Vienna. But she was no young deb…at age 16 she was posing for nude photographs;  at 19 she starred in the film “Ecstasy,” shocking and titillating moviegoers with a naked swimming scene and what appeared to be an on-screen orgasm.  (Hitler banned the film, not for the sex but because the actress was Jewish).

Young Hedy quickly married one of Austria’s richest men, a fascist-friendly and extremely jealous munitions magnate, then fled in a maid’s uniform to London where she was discovered by Louis B. Mayer, the American movie producer who was signing up talent eager to escape the Nazis.

Renamed Hedy Lamarr, she proved fantastically popular with American moviegoers, not for her limited range but for her gob-smacking gorgeousness.

She appears to have been indifferent to the whole business of acting — it was just a way to earn a living — reserving her real passion for tinkering (as a child she dismantled and reassembled a wind-up music box).  With the advent of World War II she decided to do something for the Allied cause.

Teaming up with composer George Antheil, she developed a method for steering a torpedo via radio waves.  To avoid jamming by the Germans, she and Anthill came up with “frequency hopping,” a system in which the torpedo and its remote operators were synced to an ever-changing series of radio frequencies.

Lamarr received a patent for the system, which she urged the military to consider.  But the Navy wasn’t impressed…though there is considerable evidence that years later, after the patent had expired, the Pentagon exploited it. Eventually frequency shifting became an essential element in the creation of cellphones, GPS, wifi and military satellites.

Continue Reading »

Kristin Scott Thomas, Patricia Clarkson, Bruno Ganz

“THE PARTY” My rating: B

71 minutes | MPAA rating: R

With a running of time just over an hour, Sally Potter’s “The Party” plays like a classic one-act play, filled with slamming door exits, fiercely funny wordplay and wonderfully brittle, self-delusional characters.

Potter,  the British creator of films like “Orlando” and “The Tango Lesson,” specializes in gender issues and anti-establishment politics.  “The Party” embraces all that while remaining bitterly hilarious.

In the film’s first shot a frantic looking woman (Kristin Scott Thomas) yanks open her front door, stares momentarily at the visitor on her stoop (the camera takes the vantage point of the guest) and points a pistol at us.

We then flash back 70 minutes.  That same woman, Janet, is busily futzing around the kitchen, preparing to entertain some old friends. Her husband Bill (Timothy Spall) sits in the living room, wine glass in hand, deejaying old blues and experimental jazz LPs. He has the look of a  shell-shocked combat vet.

One by one the visitors arrive and we gradually learn what the celebration is about.  After years of struggle as a party faithful, Janet has been named head of the country’s Ministry of Health. She is constantly interrupted by congratulatory phone calls, including several heavy-breathing text messages from an unidentified lover.

The deliciously catty April (Patricia Clarkson) is allegedly Janet’s best bud. As an American she takes a withering outsider’s view of Brit politics…but then she’s withering on just about every subject. Asked to evaluate if Janet’s new job has transformed her in any way, April observes that her friend now is “slightly ministerial in a post-modernist, post-feminist sort of way.”

She’s even harder on her boyfriend, a blissed-out, New Age-y German life coach named Gottfried (Bruno Ganz) who so adores her that he puts up with a constant stream of abuse. April announces that she intends to dump Gottfried that very night: “Tickle an aroma therapist and you find a fascist.”

 

Continue Reading »

Rita Hayek, Adel Karam

“THE INSULT” My rating: B-

112 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Private words generate national repercussions in Ziad Doueiri’s “The Insult,” the Lebanese film nominated for the foreign language Oscar.

When we first see Tony (Adel Karam) he looks like nothing so much as a caricature of a Rust Belt Trump voter…baseball cap, goatee, plaid shirt over a sleeveless wifebeater. He’s attending a rally of Lebanon’s far right Christian Party, listening to a speaker harangue the Palestinian refugees who have been an uncomfortable part of that country’s social fabric for decades.

Meanwhile Yasser (Kamel El Basha), one of those Palestinians, is foreman of a construction crew working across the street from the apartment Tony shares with his pregnant wife Shirine  (Rita Hayek).

A dispute erupts  over a gutter that sends dirty water draining off Tony’s balcony onto the heads of the workmen. Yasser fixes a pipe to eliminate the problem; the improvements are torn out by Tony, furious that a Palestinian has been messing with his home.

At the urging of his boss, Yasser shows up at Tony’s car repair shop to apologize. Instead he’s told: “I wish Ariel Sharon had wiped you all out.”

An enraged Yasser punches Tony, breaking a couple of ribs.  Days later Tony aggravates the injury, piercing a lung and ending up in the hospital. Shirine goes into premature labor.

The mechanic decides to sue Yasser for damages.

Doueiri’s screenplay (written with Joelle Touma) is basically in two parts.  The film’s first half lays out the political and social tension creeping through all levels of Lebanese society.  Tony’s Christian Party members are rankled at a setup that allows Palestinians to live in refugee camps where the law can’t touch them. Meanwhile Yasser refers to himself and other refugees as “the niggers of the Arab world.”

In these early passages “The Insult” does a good job of describing the complex cultural and religious animosities that linger a quarter-century after the end of Lebanon’s devastating civil war. Particular effective are brief glimpses in the background of army tanks and the occasional stroller with an automatic weapon, reminders that civil unrest is a constant threat.

The film never makes the case of one man over the other; both Yasser and Tony have moments when they see, if only for a moment, the other guy’s point of view.  They regret the ugly turn things have taken and are tempted to call the whole thing off.

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Jon Hamm

“NOSTALGIA” My rating: C-

114 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“Nostalgia” is a points-in-heaven movie.

Basically it’s a little art film (well, it wants to be art, anyway) that has attracted an astounding cast of recognizable actors (Ellen Burstyn, Bruce Dern, Beth Grant, Jon Hamm, Catherine Keener, James le Gros, Nick Offerman, John Ortiz, Amber Tamblyn) who are working for little or no pay to be part of a noncommercial effort that they hope will have something to say.

Call it movie star penance. These actors are trying to rack up some points in heaven.

Let’s hope they do, because “Nostalgia” isn’t going to make a ding in either the box office or critical circles.

Written and directed by Mark Pellington (“Arlington Road,” “The Mothman Prophecies,” “The Last Word”), “Nostalgia” offers an interesting premise.  It’s about how humans connect with objects and how giving up or losing those possessions can result in both trauma and a positive re-examination of one’s life.

Plotted less as one contiguous story than as a series of interconnected shorts, the film begins with an insurance investigator (Ortiz) checking out the home of an old man (Dern) who is preparing to sell  everything to finance his last years.

Exactly what the insurance guy does is a bit vague. He says he’s there to see if there are items in the house worth bringing in an appraiser…but on whose behalf we don’t know.  Maybe an evaluation of home’s contents has been requested by the old man’s granddaughter and heir (Tamblyn).

Anyway, the insurance guy’s real job — narratively speaking — is to be a sounding board for other characters. (If “Nostalgia” were given to metaphysical musings, you might view the character as a sympathetic angel.)

His next “customer” is a widow (Burstyn) whose home has just burned to the ground.  She’s lost everything except her late husband’s most cherished possession, a baseball signed by Ted Williams.  Eventually the old lady will travel to Las Vegas and a sports memorabilia shop where the copacetic owner (Hamm) buys the baseball for mucho dinero.

Then we follow the sports memorabilia guy to his home town, where he joins his sister (Keener) in clearing out their late parents’ home. This reunion is marred by a family tragedy. Continue Reading »

Natalie Portman

“ANNIHILATION” My rating: B- (Opens wide on Feb. 23)

115 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Given the runaway artistic and commercial success of his 2014 debut, “Ex Machina,” it’s hard not to see Alex Garland’s “Annihilation” as a case of sophomore slump.

“Ex Machina” was an almost flawless blend of performance, tension and social inquiry (Garland’s subject was artificial intelligence) that transcended the usual sci-fi parameters.

By comparison “Annihilation,” based on Jeff VanderMeer’s bestseller, feels less original and more conventional.

Plus, it has the built-in issue of being based on the first book of a trilogy — which no doubt is why at the end of nearly two hours the yarn seems unfinished.

And yet “Annihilation” has real strengths, including a mostly-woman cast dealing with a pressure cooker situation, a couple of fine action sequences and enough creeping tension to generate mucho spinal tingles.

Biologist  Lena (Natalie Portman) is in mourning. A year earlier her soldier husband Kane left for one of his black ops missions and hasn’t been heard from since. The authorities aren’t cooperative.

And then, miraculously, Kane appears in their home. He’s an emotional blank, with no memories of where he’s been.

Oscar Isaac

Before long the couple are snatched by commandos in black and taken to a top secret military base outside “the shimmer,” an area along the Carolina coast subject to bizarre anomalies.

As psychologist Dr. Ventress (Jennifer Jason Leigh) explains, a few years earlier a meteor (or something) struck the area creating a “bubble” that is slowly expanding.  Numerous military teams, drones, even trained animals have been sent beyond the shimmer, but so far only Kane has returned.  And now he’s in a coma and on life support.

(How the authorities have kept the shimmer a secret for several years is one of those mysteries possible only in movieland.) Continue Reading »

Chelsea Lopez, Michael Patrick Nicholson

“ARE WE NOT CATS” My rating: C+

78 minutes | No MPAA rating

“Are We Not Cats” is a slacker love story.

Or maybe it’s a horror yarn centering on the human equivalent of a cat’s hairball.

The answer is up to the individual. Some viewers will be weirdly moved by writer/director Xander Robin’s short (only 78 minutes) debut feature. Others will be totally grossed out and repelled.

The film’s first half hour centers on Eli (Michael Patrick Nicholson),  a hapless twentysomething adrift in the scuzziest corners of New York City.

In short order Eli is rejected by his girl, loses his job as a trash hauler and is abandoned by his parents, who unceremoniously decamp to Arizona. He’s reduced to sleeping in the ramshackle delivery truck which is his sole means of making money.

Even if we hadn’t seen Eli’s world imploding around him, we’d know he was in the grip of a big-time existential dilemma. His unkempt hair, untended chin bristles and haunted eyes announce a dude in crisis. Told he looks tired, Eli can only shrug: “This is what I look like.”

Desperate for cash, he takes a job driving a massive truck motor to a customer upstate. Along the way he gives a ride to Kyle (Michael Godere), who takes him to a sort of underground nightclub for rural punks and introduces him to his girl, Anya (Chelsea Lopez), a naifish beauty with black lipstick and a wig concealing her bald pate.

Cancer patient?  No. Anya suffers from trichotillomania and trichophagia — she is compelled to pull out her own hair and eat it.

Nonetheless, she and Eli drift into a semi-romantic relationship…at least until the massive hairball in Anya’s intestinal tract creates a health crisis that requires improvised surgery.

The film’s title references not only the line chanted by the animal men in the classic horror movie “The Island of Lost Souls” (“Are we not men?”) but to Anya’s unhappy hairball.

In a sense this is two movies. The first is a sort of deadpan ashcan comedy as Eli drifts through a world of crumbling buildings and rusting, abandoned heavy machinery.

Then the oddball romance kicks in, only to be twisted inside out by one of the most gruesome scenes in recent movie memory.

| Robert W. Butler

Charlotte Vega, Bill Milner

“THE LODGERS” My rating: C+

92 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Atmosphere trumps just about everything else in the Irish-lensed “The Lodgers,” a ghost story as ephemeral as “The Turn of the Screw.”

Brian O’Malley’s yarn unfolds in the early 1920s on a decaying Irish estate.  Twins Rachel (Charlotte Vega) and Edward (Bill Milner) live alone, the last of their once-wealthy family.

They’re going slowly mad, living by arcane rules (for instance, they must be in bed by midnight) that make no sense.  Edward is further down the head-case highway than his sister and acts as the enforcer of these edicts; Rachel is quietly defiant and looking for a way out of her situation.

As is so often the case in these stories, the real conflict arrives with an outsider. Sean (Eugene Simon) has returned from the Great War with a wooden leg and the scorn of the local louts, who consider him a traitor for fighting side by side with the hated Brits.  But Sean spots Rachel on one of her rare trips to town and, well, he gets interested.

David Turpin’s screenplay is bigger on weird moments than well-developed characters, and the deep generational secrets that keep the twins in virtual bondage are predictable if improbable (incest, anyone?).

But coherent storytelling takes a back seat to director O’Malley’s visual flourishes: a stagnant pond that erupts in disturbing visions, a trap door in the floor that oozes viscous liquid, a blue/gray palette that cloaks everything in twilight dimness.

Don’t expect “The Lodgers” to provide any kind of  coherent statement. But its dank/dark visuals are compelling in their own right.

| Robert W. Butler

“BLACK PANTHER” My rating: B- 

134 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Some films are noteworthy for their artistry.

Others earn a niche in the history books for their cultural footprint, for staking out sociological territory at just the right moment, for tapping into the zeitgeist.

Ryan Coogler’s “Black Panther” leans heavily toward the second category.

Narratively this is a  typical Marvel release, a superhero origin story that, as all Marvel movies must, ends with an extended fx-heavy smackdown.

But  there’s far more to “Black Panther.”  The first Marvel movie starring a black superhero, featuring a predominantly black cast and backed by with a heavy presence of African Americans in key creative roles,  the picture arrives at a moment when America’s oppressed groups — galvanized by an onslaught of alt-right rhetoric and rampant assholism — are asserting themselves with renewed determination.

Last year  “Wonder Woman” introduced a whole slew of female issues into the superhero universe; in retrospect it feels like a calling card for the “Me Too” movement.

“Panther” does pretty much the same thing for African Americans.  Think of it as Black Pride on steroids.

Based on the character created in 1966 by Stan Lee and Jack Kirby, the yarn introduces us to Wakanda, an African nation that to all outward appearances is pretty much your Third World backwater.

Ha.

Thanks to the nation’s supply of vibranium — an element brought to Earth in a meteor — Wakandans live in a high-tech paradise.  The clothing, artwork and architecture may be right out of “The Lion King,”  but behind the scenes vibranium provides unlimited energy, healing power and weaponry. Invisible aircraft, even.

What’s more, in conjunction with tribal spirituality, vibranium imparts to the Wakandan king  superhuman abilities, transforming him into the all-but-invincible Black Panther.

All these wonders are hidden behind a shimmering energy wall which protects Wakanda from the outside world  (also the case with the Amazonian homeland in “Wonder Woman”). By keeping to themselves the prosperous and happy Wakandans ensure that  vibranium never falls into the hands of weapons-crazy Westerners who, it’s obvious, are their inferiors in just about every category worth measuring. Continue Reading »

2017 OSCAR-NOMINATED DOCUMENTARY SHORTS  Overall rating: B

“DEAR BASKETBALL” (USA, 5 minutes)  A-

Having pretty much ruled the world of sports, NBA great Kobe Bryant now seems bent on dominating the world of arts.

Directed by Glen Keane, “Dear Basketball” is based on a prose poem written and read by Bryant and animated through spectacularly effective pencil/charcoal illustrations.

It’s a love letter from Bryant to the sport that inspires him and made him world famous: “I did everything for you. That’s what you do when someone makes you feel as alive as you do.”

This isn’t some sort of ego rant; it’s a deeply personal meditation on Bryant’s inevitable retirement and his belief that while the body may take a beating the spirit keeps on ticking.

Grown men will weep.

And having a soaring John Williams musical score doesn’t hurt, either.

“NEGATIVE SPACE”  (France, 5 minutes) B

Animating what appear to be stop-moition papier mache figures (most likely they’re computer generated), Max Porter and Ru Kuwahata’s short centers on a father-son relationship built around packing suitcases.

A father who travels often bonds with his son over the fine art of packing; the kid gets so good that Dad allows him to prepare his suitcase before departing on a business trip.

As the boy grows into manhood the ritual of efficient packing becomes a major factor in his life.  Some fathers pass down religious faith or a love of baseball; why not folding clothes to create negative space?

“LOU”   (USA, 7 minutes) B

The schoolyard bully is a familiar trope in film and literature, but we’ve never seen a take like that offered by Disney/Pixar’s “Lou.”

Directed by Dave Mullins and Dana Murray, the dialogue-free film centers on a big kid — think a mini Jack Black — who makes life miserable for the other kids in his class.

But this dorky bully gets a pointed lesson from a fantastic creature that assembles itself from items in the lost-and-found box.

Sounds weird, and “Lou” is almost impossible to describe with words. But in the end it reveals what we already knew: behind most bullies there’s a hurt and lonely kid blindly striking out.

“REVOLTING RHYMES” (UK, 29 minutes) B

Roland Dahl’s book of poems offering a sort of “Fractured Fairy Tales” approach to Mother Goose is the basis for this amusing but overlong effort from Jakob Schuh and Jan Lachauer.

It’s all very British, beginning with an encounter between a proper woman and a trench coat-clad wolf in a quaint suburban tea shop.

This episodic entry throws together characters from various yarns — Snow White and Red Riding Hood, a family of wolves, and a pack of pigs who operate a banking institution.

Dahl’s wordplay is as clever as ever, but the storytelling runs out of steam about halfway through.

“GARDEN PARTY” (France, 7 minutes) B+

The camera drifts through what appears to be a posh California home, but something’s wrong.

The swimming pool is full of leaves and debris, a meal sits uneaten and decaying on a table, and there appear to be bullet holes in the marble columns flanking the entryway.

The only living things in Victor Caire and Gabriel Grapperon’s wordless effort are the frogs and toads that have taken over the place.

What the hell is going on?

“Garden Party” provides and answer — well, sorta — but the real attraction here is the unbelievably detailed photorealistic animation. It’s flabbergasting.

| Robert W. Butler

2017 OSCAR-NOMINATED LIVE ACTION SHORTS  Overall rating: A- 

“DEKALB ELEMENTARY” (USA, 20 minutes)  B+

It’s a torn-from-the-headlines concept that could have been exploitative.  Instead Reed Van Dyk’s “DeKalb Elementary” his all the right humane notes.

The office of an elementary school is invaded by a young man (Bo Mitchell) with an assault rifle.

“This is for real,” he tells the office lady (Cassandra Rice) behind the counter. “We’re all going to die today.”

The next 19 or so real-time minutes are both hair-raising and wrenching. The shooter takes a few potshots at the police who have converged on the school, but mostly he’s freaking out. He says he’s a mental patient with nothing to live for.

The desk lady immediately gets to work proving him wrong, calling him “Sweetie,” dispensing maternal comfort and carrying on a telephone conversation with the cops.

Tensely paced and powered by two wonderfully subtle performances, “DeKalb Elementary” will stick with you.

“THE SILENT CHILD”  (UK, 20 minutes) A-

Chris Overton’s “The Silent Child” is like “The Miracle Worker” condensed to 20 insightful minutes.

Libby (an astounding Maisey Sly) is an adorable 6-year-old living with her parents and teen siblings in England’s rural midlands. But she’s deaf, and over time she’s figured out how to use that to pretty much get whatever she wants.

Overworked and time strapped, her parents hire a therapist, Joanne (Rachel Shenton, who also wrote the screenplay), to spend days in the home, preparing Libby for public school.  The girl quickly picks up the basics of sign language; not unexpectedly, she bonds with Joanne, the only other person with whom she can fully communicate.

But their relationship spawns new problems. Libby’s mother Sue (Rachel Fielding) and other family members are too busy to learn signing; rather than make that effort they want  to emphasize lip reading as Libby’s main communication skill. And then there’s old-fashioned jealousy, as it dawns on Sue that she’s losing her daughter to another woman.

“The Silent Child” is in a sense propagandistic. Shelton is an advocate for the hearing impaired, and the film is intended to educate and change minds.

But that cannot diminish its effectiveness as drama.   This is a quiet heartbreaker.

“MY NEPHEW EMMETT’   (USA, 20minutes) A

One of the most shocking and horrific episodes of the Jim Crow era comes wrenchingly to live in Kevin Wilson, Jr.’s “My Nephew Emmett.”

The subject, of course, is the torture murder of 14-year-old Emmett Till, a Chicagoan visiting relatives in Mississippi in 1955 when he reportedly whistled at a white woman.

The focus here is less on young Emmett (Joshua Wright), who is seen only fleetingly at the beginning and end of the film, than on  his uncle, Mose Wright (L.B. Williams), a preacher who learns too late of his nephews unthinking transgression, and spends a soul-shaking night standing guard with a shotgun, awaiting the redneck posse that will surely come for the boy.

The film has been impeccably mounted and perfectly acted. Special kudos to Jasmine Guy (yes, the “A Different World” star) as the preacher’s wife and Dane Rhodes as the profane and intimidating leader of the lynching party.

Prepare to be shaken.

“THE ELEVEN O’CLOCK”  (Australia, 13 minutes) B

Derin Seale and Josh Lawson’s “The Eleven O’Clock” plays like a classic Monty Python sketch, an absurd situation fueled by delightful wordplay.

Here’s the setup:  An 11 a.m. appointment in a shrink’s office.  The doctor’s new patient is a megalomaniac who believes himself to be a psychiatrist.

The problem facing the viewer: We don’t know which of these two pomposities (played by Lawson and Damon Harrison) is the mental patient, and which the M.D.  Both insist they are the psychiatrist. This leads to spectacularly gnarly exchanges like this one:

“I don’t think it’s healthy for a doctor to pretend to be a patient for a patient who thinks he’s a doctor. Wouldn’t you agree?

“I would…except you’re not a doctor talking to a patient. You’re my patient who thinks he’s a doctor talking to a patient who thinks he’s a doctor indulging the illusions of a patient who thinks he’s a doctor.  Is that clear?”

Perfectly.“WATU WROTE / ALL OF US” (Germany, 22 minutes) A-

The brotherhood of man gets a brief but intense examination in Katja Benrath and Tobias Rosen’s “Watu Wrote/All of Us.”

Based in real events of a few years ago, this moral thriller unfolds on a bus ride from Nairobi, Kenya, through the civil war-torn borderland with Somalia.

A young woman (Adeline Wairimu) keeps to herself. She is a Christian, and as such is a target for the Islamic militants who ravage the countryside. At one point she reveals that her husband and child were murdered by a militia; she is only taking the risk of returning to her home town because of her mother’s failing health.

Understandably paranoid, she bristles when approached by a Muslim teacher (Abdiwali Farran) heading north for the birth of his fifth child. But when the bus is stopped by trigger-happy militants and the Muslim passengers are ordered to identify their Christian fellow travelers, the result is an I-am-Spartacus moment that hammers home themes of personal bravery and shared humanity.

Technically proficient and brimming over with slowly-building tension, “Watu Wrote / All of Us” sticks with the viewer long after the lights come up.

| Robert W. Butler