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Hugh Jackman, Taron Egerton

Hugh Jackman, Taron Egerton

“EDDIE THE EAGLE”  My rating: B- 

 144 minutes  | MPAA rating: PG-13

In the movies, a great story trumps just about every other consideration.

“Eddie the Eagle” is a stolidly inartistic effort burdened with washed-out cinematography, just-OK special effects and a faux-Vangelis soundtrack.

But the more-or-less real-life yarn it tells is such a laugh-inducing, lump-in-the-throat-producing audience pleaser that criticism is beside the point.

The 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary, Alberta, gave us the Jamaican bobsled team, subject of the 1993 film “Cool Runnings.” But another oddity of those games was Eddie Edwards, a geeky Brit who showed up as the sole member of his country’s ski jumping team.

Eddie, who had taken up the sport only a year earlier, was clearly out of his league competing against the world’s best. But his goofball personality and obvious love of the sport won over the crowds, who dubbed him Eddie the Eagle and made him a celebrity.

In Dexter Fletcher’s film, Eddie is played by Taron Egerton, who in “Kingsman: The Secret Service” played the street punk who becomes a sophisticated James Bond-ish spy. Here he’s virtually unrecognizable, hiding behind a blond mop, bottle-bottom eyeglasses and an expression of earnest bewilderment.

Far from being a suave secret agent, Egerton’s Eddie is more like Forrest Gump. He’s not feeble-minded, exactly, but he’s childlike enough to believe that dreams come true. And just bright (and lucky) enough to figure out how to get there.

The screenplay by Sean Macaulay and Simon Kelton plays fast and loose with the facts of Eddie Edwards’ life and quest for Olympic immortality. What it gets right, though, is their subject’s never-say-die determination.

In a brief prologue we see Eddie as a boy with “weak knees” and a leg brace that squeaks with every step. Despite a near-total lack of athletic ability, he obsesses about competing in the Olympics. Continue Reading »

**, Maggie Smith

Alex Jennings, Maggie Smith

 

“THE LADY IN THE VAN”  My rating: B

104 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Imagine Maggie Smith’s Dowager Countess  from “Downton Abbey” as an imperious, demanding bag lady.

That’s the premise of “The Lady in the Van,” and it is less off putting than this description suggests.

For one thing, it’s based on real events.  Playwright Alan Bennett, who wrote the screenplay from his memoir, was for years host to Miss Shepherd, an old lady who lived in his London driveway in a series of rusting vans.

For this act of charity he was routinely dismissed by his ungrateful guest, who had her own way of doing things and saw no reason to change. Apparently she believed that this preferential treatment was rightfully hers.

The film from Nicholas Hytner (“The History Boys,” “The Madness of King George”) chronicles that bizarre relationship, which went on for 15 years.

There’s a temptation to regard Bennett (played by Alex Jennings) as some sort of saint. (After all, this “houseguest” saw to her bodily functions simply by squatting in the drive.)

So that we’ll know that Bennett wasn’t a holy fool or a complete sucker, he has written into the screeenplay conversations with himself.

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Stephen James (right) as Olympian Jesse Owens

Stephan James (right) as Olympian Jesse Owens

“RACE” My rating: B-

134 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

“RACE”  2 1/2 stars   PG-13   134 minutes

Eighty years, a world war and a civil rights revolution later, the story of Olympic track star Jesse Owens still packs a wallop.

Here was an African-American athlete who had to endure racism at home yet became the standard bearer for the American Olympic team at the 1936 Berlin games, winning a record four gold medals.

Owens provided so conclusive a refutation of Nazi racial theories that Adolf Hitler left  the stadium so he wouldn’t be photographed congratulating a black man.

As you’d expect, “Race,” the cleverly-titled film about the ’36 games — is inspiring. But it is also insipid.

When it’s dealing with the big issues of history and race, this film from director Stephen Hopkins (“The Ghost and the Darkness,” “Predator 2” and a ton of TV) generally gets it right, placing Owens’ achievements against a background of discrimination and political upheaval that makes them all the more impressive.

On the level of personal drama, though, “Race” feels like a standard-issue sports movie: not exactly wince-worthy, but cliched and superficial.

But, hey, you can’t be too disappointed in a film that offers as one of its characters the great German documentarist Leni Riefenstahl.

The screenplay by Joe Shrapnel and Anna Waterhouse alternates between Owens’ personal story — that of a high school track star who wins a scholarship to Ohio State University, sets world records and aims for the Olympics — and the societal and political convulsions of those years.

In the private story line Jesse (“Selma’s” Stephan James) gets tough love from track coach Larry Snyder (KC’s Jason Sudeikis, in his first serious dramatic role). He becomes famous, falls for a fancy lady, then thinks better of it and seeks forgiveness from the hometown gal (Shanice Banton) by whom he has a young daughter.

But it’s pretty obvious that training montages and an unremarkable romance didn’t inspire the screenwriters. What lights their fire is the chance to re-create the world of the 1930s.

For example, at a meeting of the U.S. Olympic Committee, member Jeremiah Mahoney (William Hurt) squares off against chairman Avery Brundage (Jeremy Irons) over whether, by going to Berlin, American athletes are endorsing Naziism. The scene plays like a moral and intellectual battle of giants. Continue Reading »

Michael Moore

Michael Moore

“WHERE TO INVADE NEXT” My rating: A-

110 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“Where to Invade Next” may be the most insidious, subversive movie of Michael Moore’s career.

Here’s why it’s so sneaky.  It doesn’t insult anyone.

Instead it is (outwardly, anyway) unrelentingly upbeat, focusing on ways to make life better for Americans — all Americans.

Of course, ever the prankster, Moore takes as his modus operandi an “invasion” (complete with large American flag that rarely leaves his hands) of various foreign countries. The idea is to liberate from these cultures ideas for better living.

Call it saber-rattling in the name of peace.

The upshot of this is that even Michael Moore haters may find themselves nodding in agreement as “Where to Invade Next” progresses. For despite Moore’s trademark snarkiness (here tamped down to a gentle gee-whiziness), “Where to Invade Next” is a borderline profound experience.

Traveling to Italy, Moore hangs with the owners of the Ducati motorcycle company, where employees take long lunch hours and get at least four weeks of vacation. The company’s CEO stuns the visiting Yank by stating matter of factly that “There is no clash between the profit of the company and the well being of the people.”

Meanwhile a young Italian couple who “adopt” Moore are amazed that in America vacations are not mandated by law. Nor is paid maternity leave for new moms. They rethink their dream of a life in the good old U.S.A.
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Geza Rohrig

Geza Rohrig

“SON OF SAUL” My rating: B+

107 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Holocaust movies are so ubiquitous that most of us simply tune them out.  First, they’re a downer and, second, haven’t we seen it all before?

Well, no. At least not in the case of “Son of Saul,” Hungarian director Laszlo Nemes’ first feature, which approaches the horrors of Hitler’s “final solution” from a unique and soul-rattling vantage point.

Our  “hero” is Saul (Geza  Rohrig), a member of a sonderkommando unit at a Polish death camp.  The sonderkommandos were Jews spared to do the dirty work for their German captors. After several months they, too, faced execution.

A typical day for Saul involves rising early, meeting a trainload of newcomer Jews, and herding them through the camp to the  death house (he’s like a blank-faced elementary school crossing guard).

There the condemned are told that before receiving a meal and job assignments they should disrobe for a shower. They are reminded to remember the number of the hook where they have hung their clothing.

Once these new victims have been locked inside the death chamber, Saul and his fellow workers try to ignore the screaming and pounding. They search the clothing for valuables. Later they will cart the bodies away to be burned and scrub away the blood and feces to make way for the next batch.

All this is depicted in one long, uninterrupted take.  It would be unbearable save for the presentational style Nemes has adopted.

Typically the only thing in focus is Saul’s face (sometimes the back of his head) which fills most of the frame.  To the right and left, blessedly out of focus, we can make out piles of naked bodies and screaming German guards.

It’s a brilliant visual representation of how sonderkommandos  like the inexpressive Saul avoid going mad:  They look straight ahead, try not to taken in details, try to see the soon-to-die not as individuals but as a weeping, shuffling mass.

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touched“TOUCHED WITH FIRE” My rating: B+

110 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Mental illness is a fairly common topic for the movies, but “Touched With Fire” is something special — a film that puts the viewer in the shoes of the sufferers/celebrants.

Instead of watching from the outside we experience the joys (yes, there are some) and terrors of manic depression.

Katie Holmes and Luke Kirby (one of those familiar faces to whom you cannot put a name) play Carla and Marco, who meet in a psych ward. Both are poets — she’s a published author, he’s into spoken-word performances — and both have gone off their meds.  They soon embark on a romance.

While in the manic phase of their illnesses they are energetic, wildly creative and supremely self-confidant, certain that they are among the blessed few chosen to live life with such glorious intensity. And they believe their relationship is  invulnerable and totally fulfilling.

And then, as it must, the “down” side of their bipolar beings kicks in. It gets ugly.

“Touched With Fire” was written and directed by Paul Dalio, himself a manic depressive. Not only does he nail the disorder’s emotional roller coaster, but he acknowledges that mental illness may be a key to creativity. (“Would we have ‘Starry Night,'” a defiant Marco asks, “if Van Gogh had been on his meds?”)

The film takes the title of Kay Jamison’s 1996  non-fiction best seller which argues that most of history’s great artistic geniuses were manic depressive. (Jamison even shows up late in the film for a somewhat unnecessary cameo as herself.)

 

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George Clooney

George Clooney

“HAIL, CAESAR!” My rating: C+ 

106 minutes | MPAA rating: R

The Coen Brothers’ “Hail, Caesar!” isn’t much of a movie, but as an affectionate (mostly) valentine to the Golden Age of Hollywood filmmaking, it’s a generally enjoyable goof.

The threadbare plot devised by Joel and Ethan Coen provides the siblings with multiple opportunities to go behind the scenes at the massive (and fictional) Capitol Movies studio in Los Angeles in the late 1940s.

We get to watch as America’s fantasies are brought to life. But as with sausages and laws, sometimes it’s best not to know how they’re made.

Kicking the yarn into motion is the kidnapping of stiffly handsome matinee idol Baird Whitlock (George Clooney), whose current assignment is to play a Roman centurion in the biblical epic “Hail, Caesar!”

The studio’s production chief, Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin) gets to work recovering his ransomed movie star.

That’s about it for story.

The pleasures of “Hail, Caesar!” (the Cohen Brothers movie, not the “tale of the Christ” being filmed on the Capitol lot) are to be found in its satire/celebration of iconic Hollywood personalities and situations.

Early on Eddie must convene a meeting of faith leaders who have been asked to comment on the screenplay for “Hail, Caesar!” — it’s the movie’s funniest scene and a wickedly barbed sendup of institutionalized religion.

Channing Tatum

Channing Tatum

Eddie must contend with the potty-mouthed Esther Williams-type star of aquatic musicals (Scarlett Johansson) whose mermaid outfit now won’t fit because of pregnancy (she’s unmarried).

He drops off the ransom money on a soundstage where a Gene Kelly-ish song and dance man (Channing Tatum) is shooting a big production number about a crew of sailors dismayed at the prospect of eight months at sea without women.  Not only are Tatum’s acrobatic musical comedy skills first rate, but the slyly homoerotic elements of the dance routine suggests that these Navy swabs will find ways to let off steam during their voyage.

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Charlotte Rampling, Tom Courtenay

Charlotte Rampling, Tom Courtenay

“45 YEARS” My rating: B+

95 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Everyone has a few secrets. Usually it’s a case of no harm, no foul.

But for the couple at the center of Andrew Haigh’s “45 Years,” long-kept secrets threaten a decades-old marriage.

Kate (Oscar nominated Charlotte Rampling) and Geoff (Tom Courtenay) are retirees living in a bucolic and green corner of England. They’ve never had children, doting instead on a series of dogs. They are comfortable and reasonably happy.

One day the postman brings a letter that upends their placid existence. Geoff learns that melting glaciers have revealed the body of his long-ago girlfriend, who was hiking Europe with him when she fell to her death in an alpine crevasse. Now, more than 50 years later, the authorities want him to come settle matters.

Kate knew of this shadowy woman only vaguely. Geoff has never talked much about her. But now she learns that way back then Geoff identified himself to the authorities as the dead woman’s husband. Actually they never married, but as far as the Swiss police are concerned, he’s still next of kin.

This revelation gnaws at Kate as she goes about arranging a party to celebrate her and Geoff’s 45th wedding anniversary (Geoff was ill for their 40th, so this is to make up for lost time).

But even as she must deal with renting  a banquet hall, selecting music for the dance, and creating a menu, she’s gnawed by doubts.

Just how well does she know this man who has shared her life?

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anomalisa“ANOMALISA” My rating: B+

90 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Plenty of movies pack an emotional wallop. Lots of movies deftly employ bleak humor. And cinematic eroticism is nearly as old as film itself.

But to find all of those things going on in an animated release…well, that’s a whole new thing.

Charlie Kaufman’s “Anomalisa,” one of this year’s Oscar nominees for best animated feature,  is a psychological study executed with humanoid puppets that have been animated one frame at a time to give the illusion of life.

But it’s not played for laughs; rather it’s the cry of a man coming apart at the seams. Or of a world sinking into a desultory sameness.

The first thing we hear is the growing babble of dozens of voices. They’re talking about mundane stuff and quickly accelerate into a wall of incomprehensible noise.

Michael Stone (voiced by David Thewlis) is a middle-aged passenger on a Cincinnati-bound airplane. A motivation speaker and author, he’s the keynote guy for a convention of customer service employees from throughout Ohio.

As he deplanes and makes his way to his cold, impersonal hotel we realize that everyone in Michael’s world — hotel employees, waitresses, actors on TV, the night clerk at a porno shop — speaks in the same voice (that of veteran character actor Tom Noonan). Or at least so it seems to Michael, who may be going mad.

(It takes a while to notice, but with the exception of Michael and Lisa, all the characters — of whatever sex — have the same face. The hair and clothing is different, but the features are the same.)

Once in the hotel Michael calls his former girlfriend Bella, who agrees to meet him for a drink and ends up screaming at him (again, in the voice of Tom Noonan) for his betrayal a decade earlier.

Just when it seems that things couldn’t get any weirder, Michael hears a distinctive female voice.  It belongs to Lisa (Jennifer Jason Leigh), who is attending the convention with her friend and co-worker Emily.

Lisa is nervously chatty (always saying to herself “Shut up, Lisa”), physically shy, and frets about the facial scar she tries to cover with her hair. She’s childlike and given to big enthusiasms and sorrowful self-recrimination.

She’s just an average person — except, of course, to Michael, to whom her distinctive voice and appearance make her a blessed anomaly.  That’s why he begins calling her Anomalisa. That’s why he declares his love and his belief that they must never part.

Which leads to the saddest and most achingly erotic sex scene of any recent film. Featuring, of course, puppets. Continue Reading »

theeb“THEEB” My rating: B

100 minutes |No MPAA rating 

On a purely visual level the Oscar-nominated “Theeb” (for foreign language film)  is a knockout, capturing a Middle Eastern desert landscape with an eye to vast spaces and intimate detail in a style clearly meant to evoke memories of “Lawrence of Arabia.”

The setting — the Bedouin fight against the Turks during World War I — is the same as in David Lean’s great epic.

But this accomplished  directing debut from English/Jordanian filmmaker  Naji Abu Nowar is unusual in that it approaches the material from the viewpoint of an 11-year-old boy.

“Theeb” (Jacir Eid Al-Hwietat) — his name is Arabic for “wolf” — is the third son a recently deceased sheik. His closest companion is his older brother Hasseim (Hussein Salaamed Al-Sweilhiyeen), who is teaching the boy in the ways of the desert.

The film’s opening scenes have a timeless quality — it’s hard to pin down if the action is taking place today or a century ago.  It’s not until the arrival of a British officer (Jack Fox) in the nomads’ camp that we realize there’s a war going on. (In fact, Theeb and his family seem not to even be aware of the conflict.)

The Brit, evidently on a secret mission,  asks Hasseim to guide him to a distant watering hole where he is to meet up with some Arab fighters. Disobeying his sibling, Theeb follows at a distance until he’s so far from home that Hasseim has no choice but to bring the boy along on the journey.

The desert is always dangerous. In this case the perils are multiplied by bandits who prey on travelers.

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