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Posts Tagged ‘Jamie Foxx’

Annette Bening

“NYAD” My rating: B  (Netflix)

121 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Athletic excellence and obsessive ambition are regular bedfellows, perhaps no more so than in this story of distance swimmer Diana Nyad,

Scripted by Julia Cox (from Nyad’s book Find a Way) and directed by Jimmy Chin and Eliizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi,  this,is a slow buildup to Nyad’s 2013 master achievement, a 110-mile solo swim at age 60 (sans shark cages and resting raft) from Havana to Key West.

It was her fifth attempt, earlier ones having been scuttled by unpredictable tides and unfavorable winds, jellyfish stings, low water temperature and sheer exhaustion creating a dissociative mental state not unlike a drug-free acid trip.

The film benefits hugely from its casting,  Annette Bening makes of her  Nyad an almost superhuman force willing to cajole, beg and borrow (if not steal) to get the funds for her expensive attempts, which required a motorized boat, kayaks and crew to man it all. 

There’s more than a little stubborn craziness at work here (one must wonder at the masochistic elements of the sport), and the film in flashbacks offers details about the adolescent Diana’s sexual  abuse at the hands of her Hall of Fame swimming coach.

In the present Nyad’s obsessions strain relations even with her best friend Bonnie Stoll (an excellent Jodie Foster), who puts her own life on hold to pitch in with the advance work and to accompany Nyad on her attempts (Stoll remains on the boat, feeding the swimmer thorough a tube but never touching her…that would violate the solo swim rules).

Viewers may wonder whether Nyad, who is openly gay, and Stoll were lovers.  The film isn’t clear on that point and in the end  it doesn’t matter. This is a film about friendship surviving just about everything life can throw at it.

Special nod also to Rhys Ifans for his portrayal of John Bartlett, a veteran Caribbean captain who piloted the escort ship on Nyad’s attempts, even as he was battling the illness that would kill him.

Colman Domingo

“RUSTIN” My rating: B (Netflix)

106 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Martin Luther King Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech at the 1963 March on Washington may have been the single most memorable moment of the Civil Rights era.

It wouldn’t have happened without Bayard Rustin, a gay black man of outstanding intellectual power and organizational ability. 

 The march was largely Rustin’s idea, and he certainly was its greatest facilitator, overcoming obstacles thrown up not only by the white establishment but by his fellow African American leaders.

Here Rustin is portrayed by Colman Domingo as an aggressive (and often aggressively off-putting) visionary whose dreams are forever being threatened by his gayness, a chink in his otherwise impressive social armor that his enemies found all too easy to exploit.

“Rustin” is an impressive recreation of a specific time and place.  The script is by Julian Breece (TV’s “First Wives Club”) and Dustin Lance Black (“Milk”), while the insightful but unobtrusive direction is by George C. Wolfe (“Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom”).

And talk about a supporting cast!!! Chris Rock as a doubtful Roy Wilkins, Jeffrey Wright as a sneaky Rep. Adam Clayton Powell, Glynn Turman as A. Philip Randolph, and Ami Ameen as Martin Luther King, Jr.  Toss in Audra McDonald and CCH Pounder and you’ve got carefully applied star power almost everywhere you look…yet all provide just the right support for Domingo’s soul-stirring performance.

When it’s over you’ll be convinced that Bayard Rustin should be a household name.

Tommy Lee Jones, Jamie Foxx

“THE BURIAL” My rating: B (Prime)

136 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Based on a real court case, “The Burial” is a David-vs-Goliath legal drama that offers juicy roles for Tommy Lee Jones and Jamie Foxx while dabbling in racial issues.

Jones’ Jeremiah O’Keefe is the operator of a regional chain of mortuaries. But debt has forced him into bed with a gigantic funeral home conglomerate that has been gobbling up little mom-and-pop operations. Now O’Keefe is looking for a legal cavalier willing to take on the big boys (the heavy here is a ruthless corporate raider played by the ever excellent Bill Camp).

O’Keefe’s search leads him to Willie Gary (Foxx), a cocky and flamboyant lawyer who fancies himself the incarnation of Johnny Cochran. Initially Gay isn’t interested in the funeral home case. He specializes in personal injury; moreover, he proudly views himself as an African American lawyer going to bat almost exclusively for African American clients.

But despite the cultural divide separating them, Gary and O’Keefe click on a personal basis. So much so that when Gary’s black associates bail on the case, he continues to work it virtually as a one-man show.

As effective as it is as a courtroom drama (Jurnee Smollett is very fine as Gary’s opposing counsel), “The Burial” is most satisfying as an examination of two men with vastly different life experiences who evolve into something more like a friends than legal allies.

Jones has so often played the grumpy hard ass that it comes as a revelation that he here is so vulnerable and, well, decent. Similarly, Foxx is terrific at revealing the individual behind the TV-ad bravado.

| Robert W. Butler

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Ansel Elgort, Jamie Foxx, Elza Gonzalez, Jon Hamm

“BABY DRIVER”  My rating: B 

113 minutes  | MPAA rating: R

At a time when hipness has been reduced to emojis and man buns, filmmaker Edgar Wright dishes the real deal with the uber-stylish “Baby Driver,” a crime caper that melds “Drive”-style action and “American Graffiti” musicality.

The results are both familiar and fresh.

The hero of Wright’s funky tough-guy fantasy is Baby (“The Fault in Our Stars’” Ansel Elgort), a kid (he’s maybe 19) who, as the film begins, has two loves: driving and music.

Baby is an expert wheelman employed by Doc (Kevin Spacey), a shadowy crime king specializing in impossible heists. A few years back the youthful Baby stole and wrecked Doc’s car, and now he’s paying off the debt as a getaway driver.

He’s really, really good, as demonstrated by the hair-raising robbery and chase that opens the film.

Baby is also a world-class music freak who is rarely seen without earbuds firmly in place. Other people walk down the street; Baby bops, propelled by the beats in his head.

Not since John Travolta’s Tony Manero sashayed through Brooklyn to the strains of “Stayin’ Alive” has mortal man turned mere perambulation into such a display of awesomeness.

In fact, Baby keeps a small arsenal of MP3 players in his pockets, each filled with a specific kind of music depending upon his mood and the task at hand. He’s got playlists for cruising, for chilling, for getting pumped up and for settling down.

As a result “Baby Driver” has more great across-the-spectrum pop music than any movie since George Lucas’ “American Graffiti,” the film that back in 1973 convinced Hollywood that you don’t need a composer and original score if you can tell your story with familiar radio hits. (more…)

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django“DJANGO UNCHAINED” My rating: C (Opens wide on Christmas Day)

165 minutes | MPAA rating: R

As a big fan of Quentin Tarantino, it gives me little pleasure to confess that “Django Unchained” gave me little pleasure.

Tarantino, who spent his formative years as a video store clerk immersed in cult cinema, has made a career of taking cheesy filmic subgenres and elevating them into something like high art through the sheer transformative genius of his imagination.

Here he tackles two chestnuts from the cinema cellar.

First there are the Italian “Django” movies (there are at least 30 of them) about a surly drifter in the Old West who leaves behind whole towns of festering corpses.

More importantly, “Django” references the mid-‘70s blaxploitation movie.  But instead of raising the genre to a new level, Tarantino seems content to kick around in the basement.

“Django” isn’t so much a clever comment on blaxploitation as it is a genuine blaxploitation film with all the usual atavistic violence and cartoonish drama intact.

It is technically more sophisticated than the films it emulates, but not much deeper. And while it contains enough subversive ideas about race to keep the thesis mills churning out papers for the next decade, it never becomes a satisfying dramatic experience.

Initially, at least, “Django Unchained” looks like “Inglourious Basterds” redux. Both films are minority revenge fantasies. In “Basterds” (2009) Tarantino cleverly hypothesized a group of Jewish-American commandos who succeed in assassinating Adolf Hitler.

In “Django” a slave in the antebellum American South becomes a gunfighter and kills a lot of white racists on the way to rescuing his wife from the clutches of a sadistic plantation owner.

(more…)

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