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Posts Tagged ‘Pedro Pascal’

Joan in Phoenix, Pedro Pascal

“EDDINGTON” My rating: C+ (HBO MAX)

148 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“Eddington” is a mess, but at least it’s an ambitious mess.

For his followup to “Hereditary” and “Midsommar” filmmaker Ari Aster has come up with a different sort of horror film in which the threat comes not from the supernatural but from within ourselves.

Unfolding in the sun-baked burg of Eddington, N.M.,  this drama attempts nothing less than to summarize all the roiling currents of contemporary America.  Which is a nice idea, but it devolves into a credulity-crushing melodrama populated less by characters than by various poltical/social points of view.

The time is the early months of the Covid pandemic, and Sheriff Joe Cross (Joaquin Phoenix) has his hands full on just about every front.  At home there’s his childlike and sickly wife Louise (Emma Stone) and her conspiracy-crazed mother Dawn (Deirdre O’Connell).

On his patrols of the town Joe finds himself refereeing standoffs between pandemic-panicked citizens in government-mandated face masks and those individuals who refuse to muffle up, whether because it’s physically uncomfortable or because they smell the nefarious efforts of Big Brother to smother individual identity.

It’s also election season in Eddington, with mayor Ted Garcia (Pedro Pascal) running for another term.  Ted’s campaign centers on bringing in a high-tech outfit to erect a data farm, or a bitcoin mine, or some other damn electicity-gobbling enterprise.  The whole thing smacks of an insider deal.

There are the kids, the teenagers who aren’t content just to smoke grass behind the grocery store.  No, they’ve all climbed on a high horse to protest everything they don’t like — which is just about everything from Native America rights to old folks who can’t be bothered with personal pronouns. They’re putty in the hand of the charismatic Vernon (Austin Butler), a rabble rouser who may be a good guy…or maybe a Charles Manson.

And finally there’s Lodge (Clifton Collins Jr.), a hirsute desert rat who wanders through town babbling angrily at demons real and imagined.

Pushed way past exasperation, Joe decides to take matters into his own hands. He’ll run for mayor, too.  Except that the key to his campaign is assassinating the opposition.

Once the crime’s been committed “Eddington” becomes a sort of Jim Thompson thriller with Joe working overtime to cover up his crime and blame it on somebody else.  Except that there are a couple of armed vigilantes (identified in the credits as Antifa Terrrorists 1 and 2) who begin stalking him in a beautifully staged nighttime action sequence.

By the time “Eddington” wraps up after nearly 2 1/2 hours the patience of most viewers will be worn thin. As a schematic of our current state of affairs the film offers some good nasty fun, but there’s not a character on screen we can actually like.

Tessa Thompson

“HEDDA” My rating: B-(Prime Video)

107 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Hendrick Ibsen’s “Hedda Gabler” gets a heavy-duty makeover in “Hedda,” in which writer/director Nia DaCosta makes actress Tessa Thompson the scene-stealing centerpiece.

Ibsen’s original was set in the 1890s Norway;  DaCosta moves the action to post-war Britain.

The story is pretty much the same with some radical casting changes…new bride Hedda (Thompson) is miserable with her stuffy academic hubby George (Tom Bateman) and uses a big cocktail party attended by his colleagues to do mischief.  She’s supposed to be boosting George’s profile for a much sought-after collegiate gig, but Hedda’s personal demons are going strong.

George’s main competition is Eileen Lovborg (Nina Hoss), an openly gay female academic working on what will surely be a best-selling book.  Eileen is a recovering alcoholic; she’s also a former lover of Hedda, though she now cohabits with the mousy Thea (Imogen Poots).

In the course of the evening Hedda will sabotage Eileen’s relationship, her husband’s career, and her own life.

“Hedda” has been very well acted, and the updatings made to the original text are intriguing and evocative.

But here’s the thing…when I think of Britain in the 1950s I’m thinking of the rather stiff world of PBS’s “Granchester,” a time when the old social mores were only slowly changing and gasoline was still being rationed.

What we get here, though, is a Bacchanal right out of the 1920s, with stuffy college professors getting blotto and dancing the boogie woogie.  The film’s frantic ambience felt forced and overstated. 

If you can get past the anachronistic elements, “Hedda” offers some terrific acting.  If.

| Robert W. Butler

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“GLADIATOR II” My rating: C+ (In theaters)

148 minutes | MPAA rating: R

“Gladiator II” is pretentious twaddle.

At least it’s brilliantly-produced twaddle.

Director Ridley Scott’s followup to his 2000 Oscar winner (what were they thinking?) is less a sequel than a loose remake.  It’s forever repeating beats from the original.

You see that right in the opening credits, which unfold over a montage of moments from the original “Gladiator,” albeit this time rendered in painterly animation.

Once again we get color-desaturated dream sequences and flashbacks.

Then there’s the plot, which begins with a massive battle, then becomes the story of an honest man reduced to slavery and a life of fighting in the arena. (Remember the gladiator owner played by Oliver Reed the first time around? This time those duties are fulfilled by Denzel Washington.)

The first film had a crazy emperor.  This one has two crazy emperors.

And again there’s an iffy subplot about Roman political machinations with lots of uplifting/dubious oratory espousing democratic ideals that sound more like Thomas Jefferson than Marcus Aurelius. (At one point we even get an “I am Spartacus” moment.)

But here’s the thing: “Gladiator II” is bigger, noisier, faster.  Special effects that looked phony in the original are now so sophisticated that one cannot tell a real rampaging rhino from a digitally created one. The city-scapes are awe-inspiring.

The whole thing pulses with visceral/sensory overload.

And it needs to, because dramatically “Glad II” feels like amateur hour. (The screenplay is by David Scarpa, Peter Craig and David Franzoni.)

Our hero (I never caught his name…I now see that this was deliberate) is played by Paul Mescal. I’ll call him Hero.

Paul Mescal

Hero comes to Rome in chains after a Roman fleet destroyed his city on the coast of North African. Having lost his home and his wife in the battle, Hero carries a chip on his shoulder.  All he wants before dying is revenge on the general who ruined his life.

That would be Marcus Acacius (Pedro Pascal), who is now married to the princess Lucilla (Connie Nielsen, reprising her role from the first film).  Together they are plotting to overthrow the sibling emperors Geta and Caracalla (Joseph Quinn, Fred Hchinger), a debauched pair of painted syphilitic psychos. 

Before it’s all over, Hero’s path will cross those of Marcus and Lucilla in an unexpected (and wildly unlikely) plot reveal. 

But then there’s the spectacle.  Scott and his production designers have outdone themselves in creating the Colosseum in beautiful downtown Rome. 

The first big brawl finds humans battling a troop of killer baboons.  Then we move on to that armored rhinoceros, which is about the size of a Sherman tank.  Most awe inspiring of all is a naval battle staged in the flooded arena. Those Romans thought of everything, including introducing  huge sharks which swim around the galleys to snatch anyone who falls overboard.

The acting?  It’s okay.  Just okay.

Which is disappointing because Mescal has in recent roles (“Aftersun,” “All of Us Strangers,” “Normal People”) displayed a subtly seductive approach.  He’s one of the few actors who can find interesting things to do with “nice” characters.

Ironic, then, that as our vengeful protagonist he’s kind of a one-note creation.  Barely suppressed rage gets tiresome after a while.

Washington has been getting some awards-season buildup for his work as the gladiator master and Machiavellian power broker  Macrinus. I don’t see it.  The character has a few moments of gloating triumph as he turns the tables on Rome’s blue-blooded politicians, but I yearned for Washington to exhibit some wickedly comic impulses. Nope.

Denzel Washington

Everyone else delivers their lines with the sort of bloviating declamatory dialogue that wouldn’t be out of place in an old Hollywood epic from the 1950s.

Here’s the thing:  “Gladiator” is all surface and no substance.  There are no interesting ideas beneath the grandeur and violence, no emotional engagement.

Like Scott’s last film, the curiously untethered “Napoleon,” “Gladiator II” is a display of elephantine emptiness.  No wonder it feels about 45 minutes too long.

| Robert W. Butler

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Penelope Cruz, Adam Driver

“FERRARI’ My rating: B- (Hulu)

130 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Great performances from Adam Driver and Penelope Cruz notwithstanding, “Ferrari” is a hard movie to warm up to…because its subject is a hard man to like.

Director Michael Mann’s latest is a character study of sorts, centering on a giant of industry at a pivotal moment in his career.  That the career in question is auto racing makes for built-in drama.

In 1957 Enzo Ferrari (Driver) is both at the peak of his powers as a maker of racing cars and on a financial precipice.  His obsession with fielding the world’s best race team has left him nearly insolvent and facing the glum prospect of forging a partnership with big money interests who will want a say in running the show.

His domestic life is no less precipitous.  Ferrari and his all-but estranged wife Laura (Cruz) are still mourning the death a year before of their only child; Ferrari’s history of infidelity isn’t helping.

In fact, for more than a decade he has kept a former assembly line employee, Lina (Sharlene Woodley, whom I never for a minute bought as Italian), as his mistress.  They even have a 10-year-old son, a humiliation Ferrari has managed to keep a secret from Laura, although everybody else seems to know about it.

And now Laura holds the fate of the company…she owns half the stock and her cheating hubby can do nothing without her approval.

meanwhile Ferrari is putting all his chips in on winning the Mila Miglia, a 1000-mile race on public roads so dangerous that drivers joke about dying at the hands of dogs and children.  Ironically it will be the last Mila Miglia ever, with a death toll so off the charts the entire event would be permanently cancelled.

Driver’s Ferrari is self-absorbed and always a few chess moves ahead of everybody else.  He offers a gentlemanly facade but is ruthless in achieving his goals.  He can also be amusingly crotchety. 

In one memorable scene he reams a pack of racing journalists: “When we win I can’t see my cars for the shots of starlet’s asses.  When we lose you’re a lynch mob. It’s enough to make the Pope weep.”

The real star of the show though, is Cruz. Sans makeup and carrying her load of grief like a manhole cover, she is a modern-day Medea torn between revenge and the need to see the family business succeed. It’s a wow-quality performance.

Pedro Pascal, Nicolas Cage

“THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT” My rating: B (Roku)

107 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Movies don’t get much more meta than “The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent” in which Nicolas Cage — a sometimes great actor who often seems more interested in the paycheck than the screenplay — plays Nicolas Cage, a sometimes great actor who often seems more interested in the paycheck than the screenplay.

Co-written and directed by Tom Gormican, “Unbearable Weight…” offers self-parody on steroids. Apparently Nicolas Cage is aware of all the weird things people say about him and is more than happy to exploit them. 

The premise finds Cage (who often imagines conversations with his younger, more successful self) so desperate for work that he agrees to fly to Spain to be the entertainment at the birthday party of billionaire named Javi Gutierrez (Pedro Pascal).  Surprisingly, Javi and Nick hit it off…they appreciate the same old movies and Javi has even written a screenplay he’d love for his guest to consider.

Enter two dodgy CIA types (Tiffany Haddish, Ike Barinholtz) who inform Nicolas that his host is actually an international arms dealer…and convince him to become a spy inside Javi’s sprawling seaside estate.

Part buddy movie, part spy spoof (Nick and Javi end up searching for a politician’s kidnapped daughter), part sendup of Hollywood excess, “The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent” roars along  thanks to Cage’s willingness to send up his own oft-overcooked acting style.

 One can only imagine that for this actor it offered a decade’s worth of therapy in just one gig.

Brian Jones, Mick Jagger

“THE STONES AND BRIAN JONES *My rating: B (Hulu)

93 minutes | No MPAA rating

Documentarian Nick Broomfield has always had a thing for music subjects — Suge Knight and the murders of Biggie & Tupac, Leonard Cohen, Whitney Houston, Kurt Cobain and Courtney Love.

Here he tunes up the way-back machine to explore the life and legacy of the forgotten Rolling Stone, Brian Jones.

It’s a sad tale.  Jones was the founder of the Stones, envisioning it as a blues band. He was charismatic and well spoken,  and wildly musical (he introduced the sitar to the Stones and played the flute solo on “Ruby Tuesday”).

But he was eclipsed by the songwriting talents of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards. At the same time Jones’ emotional/mental issues and substance abuse derailed his career; he became so unreliable that Jagger and Richards fired him.  After that it was a quick trip to the boneyard.

For boomers “The Stones and Brian Jones” is a heady trip down Memory Lane. Broomfield has assembled a treasure trove of vintage footage of the Stones. 

It’s a tale populated  not only by the Stones themselves (bassist Bill Wyman is a valuable talking head here), but by the likes of Eric Burden (of The Animals), Marianne Faithful (the pop songstress who had affairs with three of the band’s members), Jones’ various girlfriends (he left behind a small army of illegitimate children) and Paul McCarthy.

Undergoing particular scrutiny is the late Anita Pallenberg, glamorous girlfriend to the band who comes off as a self-serving succubus.

 Curiously, Broomfield has chosen not to say much of anything about Jones 1969 drowning death.  Over the years there has been a growing body of evidence to suggest Jones was murdered, probably by a worker with whom he had a pay dispute. But no mention of that here.

| Robert W. Butler

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Gal Gadot

“WONDER WOMAN 1984” My rating: C (HBO Max)

151 minutes | MPAA rating: PG-13

Perhaps the most telling commentary on “Wonder Woman 1984” has come from a critic who observed that the only way to enjoy the movie is to imagine that it is actually a relic from 1984.

Yeah, that works.  Kinda.

Had we seen this movie back in the Reagan years we’d have been blown away by the special effects — WW’s sinuous glowing lasso, that suit of golden armor in which she confronts the bad guy at the end, the flying, etc.

Pedro Pascal

And we’d have forgiven its grievous dramatic shortcomings — the utter lack of psychological realism, the plot holes big enough to accommodate an aircraft carrier, the ever-meandering and overly complicated narrative — because 30 years ago superhero/comic book movies were, for the most part, pretty awful. We didn’t expect anything better.

(Although, the first Christopher Reeve “Superman” from 1978 remains imminently watchable…not for the eye candy but for its wit, its celebration of a cultural icon and the genuine affection it exudes for its hero and his world.)

Anyway, this latest from director Patty Jenkins is most noteworthy for its utter lack of style.  There’s no edge, no real humor aimed at anything that matters (we’re supposed to get off on Chris Pine’s wardrobe  of ghastly ’80s fashion).

Which comes as a surprise since 2017’s “Wonder Woman,” also helmed by Jenkins, oozed style and attitude.

(more…)

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