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Posts Tagged ‘Imogen Poots’

Damson Idris, Brad Pitt

“F1: THE MOVIE” My rating: B- (Apple+)

155 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Joseph Kosinski’s “F1” has just about enough plot to fill a teaspoon.

But it also has one of our most charismatic leading men and a whole shitload of cars roaring around at 200+ m.p.h.

That’s enough for a good time at the movies.  But a nomination for the Best Picture Oscar?  

Anyway, what we’ve got here is Brad Pitt as Sonny Hayes, an over-the-hill driver who, decades after a career-ending accident, lives out of his van going from race to race like a surf bum or struggling bull rider. He’ll drive whatever is put in front of him…the need for speed cannot be quenched.

As “F1” begins Sonny is recruited by an old pal from back in the day. Ruben Cervantes (Javier Bardem) is a former racer now heading up his own Formula One team. But he’s struggling and needs an edge…one he believes Sonny can provide.

This does not sit well with the team’s other driver, the up-and-coming Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris).  He scoffs at the “old man.” They’re oil and water…Joshua is loud and brash while Sonny is self-contained, wryly ironic and largely uncommunicative.

The differences extend even to their training regimen…Joshua takes full advantage of the high-tech toys designed to improve strength and accuracy, while Sonny juggles tennis balls and jogs.

Pitt’s perfect for the role, He doesn’t have to do much emoting; Sonny’s quiet personality radiates intensity.

You can see where this is going.  Little by little the burned-out Sonny will get back in the game; eventually his bend-the-rules style and track smarts impress even the cocky Joshua. Does anyone doubt that by movie’s end they’ll be the perfect team?

A bit of romance is provided by Kerry Condon as Kate, who we’re told is the only woman car designer and engineer in the F1 universe.  Over several years I’ve become a huge Condon fan — she’s a fantastic actress whose unassuming beauty is way more lady-next-door than Hollywood glamourpuss.

But all this human stuff is merely window dressing on the main event. I’m talking about the cars, captured by cinematographer Claudio Miranda with fetishistic appreciation. The film often plants us behind the wheel (you don’t so much get into a Formula One car as put it on) and the race scenes are genuinely pulse-pumping.

I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the behind-the-scenes world of F1 racing depicted here, but it appears that putting together a competitive team is a technological challenge on the level of a NASA-sponsored trip to Mars.

Given its gruel-thin content, “F1’s” 2 and 1/2-hour running time isn’t warranted.  Still, I don’t regret the time spent on watching it.

Imogen Poots, Brett Goldstein

“ALL OF YOU” My rating: B (Apple+)

98 minutes | MPAA rating: R

The Brit romance “All of You” is far from perfect, but it’s got some of the best dialogue heard in ages while depicting a love story that simmers at low heat.

The initial setup is vaguely science fiction-ish.  Simon (“Ted Lasso’s” Brett Goldstein) and Laura (Imogen Poots) have been besties since college…they’re each other’s closest confidant, a dynamic made possible in part because they are not and never have been lovers.

In the opening passages Laura decides to take advantage of a new high-tech service guaranteed to find your perfect soulmate wherever he or she may be in the world.  Laura’s results hit fairly close to home…she’s hooked up with Lukas (Steven Cree) who, as advertised, seems perfect for her.

Marriage and motherhood follow.  But it’s obvious to those of us watching that Simon, who believes in finding romance the old-fashioned way, suffers from a world-class case of unrequited love.

The question is whether Laura and Simon will ever take the plunge.

The screenplay by Goldstein and director William Bridges centers mostly on encounters between Laura and Simon over the years.  Their dialogue is achingly honest and often bleakly hilarious…they’re so much on one another’s wavelengths that they’ll express thoughts that would drive away many a potential lover.

C’mon…if two people were ever made for each other it’s Simon and Laura.

Those with short attention spans will undoubtedly drift off during the couple’s prolonged bouts of give-and-take.  But Goldstein and Poots are so convincing, so perfectly tuned in to the dialogue and each other, that we’re sucked in.  

Maybe heartbreak is inevitable…but you won’t know until you try.

| Robert W. Butler

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Jesse Eisenberg

“THE ART OF SELF-DEFENSE” My rating: B-

104 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Martial arts build character, hone physical strength, enhance self defense skills and instill discipline and obedience.

That’s the sales pitch, anyway.

But as we learned from the thuggish dojo rats who tormented Ralph Macchio in  “The Karate Kid” (not to mention the Bushido-inspired atrocities of World War II-era Japan), those attributes also make martial arts a fertile breeding ground for fascism.

In “The Art of Self-Defense” writer/director Riley Stearns delivers a deadpan black comedy that turns the whole self-improvement scenario inside out.  A milquetoast wimp (Jesse Eisenberg, always the very essence of cinematic wimp) trains so that he can stand up to bullies; in the process he becomes that which he hates.

Casey (Eisenberg) is a sad, lonely misfit.  He’s an accountant at a firm where the other employees regard him as an odd duck (if they take notice of him at all). His sole relationship is with his sad-eyed Dachshund. He dreams of going to France and in fact is studying the language, but even there he anticipates defeat. Currently he’s working on the phrase “I don’t want any trouble, sir. I’m just a tourist.”

Nearly beaten to death by a gang of cycle-riding assailants, Casey takes indefinite sick leave and retreats to a life of booze straight from the bottle and failed masturbation attempts (he can’t do it while his dog’s watching).

He fills out the paperwork to purchase a handgun, but before he can pick it up he stumbles into the strip mall dojo run by Sensei (Alessandro Nivola in what may be his best role ever).

Sensei (real name Leslie, but we won’t learn that until much later) talks nonstop martial arts platitudes. Karate, he bloviates, is a language, a way of communication. “We form words with our fists and feet.”

With his mix of serene philosophy and physical menace Sensei comes off as the love child of the Dalai Lama and a Marine drill instructor. The wonder of Nivola’s blowhard performance (and Stearns’ writing) is how those woo-woo banalities slowly but surely shift into  threatening machismo. The entire film is a slow-building study in insanity.

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“SWEET VIRGINIA” My rating: C+

93 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Jon Bernthal

Slickly made but essentially hollow, “Sweet Virginia” is a good-looking piece of neo noir that fritters away a good cast on a so-so story.

In the first moments of this moody effort from director James M. Dagg and scenarists Benjamin and Paul China, three men engaged in an after-hours poker game in a small-town Rockies restaurant are gunned down. The boyish killer (Christopher Abbott) makes it look like a robbery, but we soon learn that he was hired by local gal Lila (Imogen Poots) to murder her no-good cheating’ hubby.

Lila isn’t thrilled that two innocent lives were taken in the operation; she’s even more upset when she learns that her late spouse was insolvent. There’s no way she can pay the hit man, whose name is Elwood, the $50,000 she owes him.

Meanwhile Sam (Jon Bernthal), a beat-up former rodeo champ, runs his motel (the Sweet Virginia of the title) and tries to ignore the fact that all those times he was dumped on his head will probably leave him with a case of early onset dementia.

Ironically, Sam has been having an affair with Bernadette (Rosemarie DeWitt), the wife of one of the shooting victims.  He’s decent enough to feel bad about continuing their liaison…but he gives in to Bernadette’s entreaties.

It all comes to a head when Lila, desperate to get the nasty Elwood off her case, sics him on a likely home robbery target. The ensuing mayhem will involve most of the film’s main characters.

“Sweet Virginia”  takes a long time to go nowhere.  Especially irritating is the dialogue,  which often dips into pretentiousness by giving the characters cryptic mumbles when all we really want is a straight declarative sentence.

That said, the perfs are fine with Abbott’s moody, unpredictable and unprofessional killer talking most of the honors.

| Robert W. Butler

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