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Posts Tagged ‘Thomasin McKenzie’

Essie Davis, Thomasin McKe3nzie

“THE JUSTICE OF BUNNY KING”  My rating: B (On demand)

101 minutes | No MPAA rating

Thanks to cable’s popular “Miss Fisher” mysteries and her knockout turn in the horror entry “The Babadook,”  Aussie actress Essie Davis has been working her way toward name recognition with American audiences.

In “The Justice of Bunny Fisher” the versatile actress slips effortlessly (or so it seems) into the skin of a homeless woman battling personal demons and a system that seems designed to grind her down.

We meet the title character of Gayson Thavat’s ashcan drama (his feature directing debut) on the streets of a New Zealand burg.  The middle-aged woman is equipped with squeegee and bucket; with a crew of fellow jobless citizens she picks up a few bucks washing the windshields of motorists waiting for the lights to change.

Despite her circumstances Bunny puts up a positive front (no doubt she’s learned that a happy facade results in bigger tips) — at least until she pays a visit to a shelter where her two children (a 14-year-old boy and a 6-year-old girl) are being housed.

Bunny, you see, has a criminal record. The government has doubts about her ability to care for her children.  And it’s not just a question of means…Bunny’s mental health is an iffy thing.

Thavat’s film, co-written with Sophie Henderson and Gregory King, follows Bunny’s determined efforts to be reunited with her kids.  But it’s just one damn thing after another.

Bunny has been crashing with her sister and brother-in-law (Angus Stevens). a creep with a thing for teenage girls and an eye for his stepdaughter Tonyah (the great Thomasin McKenzie). When things go south with her relations Bunny lands on the couch of one of her fellow windshield wipers…briefly, at least, she can bask in the warm vibes of the guy’s big Maori household.

We see her hitting the thrift shops, looking for an ensemble that will allow her to pass for semi-solvent.  But  the never-ending maze of bureaus and regulations she must navigate would prove daunting even for a mom with major resources. How’s Bunny supposed to pull it off?

With its social conscience on its sleeve, sympathetic depiction of working-class life and semi-documentary style (mostly handheld cameras and a real eye for detail), “…Bunny King” bears more than a little resemblance to the films of Brit rabble rouser Ken Loach.

And like a typical Loach effort, the film puts us through some majorly disheartening moments that are made endurable by the terrific acting, which discovers human truths that transcend the misery.

Eventually the film settles down to a situation recalling “Dog Day Afternoon.” Our heroine goes on the run with her willing niece (technically, it’s kidnapping) and the film’s final segment is a tense nail-biter. A happy ending does not seem to be in the cards.

Davis’ performance here is jaw-droopingly nuanced.  Beneath Bunny’s maternal drive we sense a woman who is simultaneously furious and frantic, who makes astonishingly bad decisions for the right reasons, who earns our respect and our pity.

Breathtaking stuff.

| Robert W. Butler

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Amy Ryan

“LOST GIRLS” My rating: B (Now on Netflix)

95 minutes | MPAA rating: R

Anger radiates from “Lost Girls” like steam from a boiling pot.  It swirls around us; we inhale it; we burn with it.

Liz Garbus’ film is about the decade-old (and still unsolved) case of the Long Island serial killer, believed responsible for the deaths of at least 10 young women.

But it’s not a police procedural. More like a study of official indifference and incompetence.

The victims, you see, were call girls. No big loss, right?

The point of view taken by the filmmakers (Michael Were adapted Robert Kolker’s non-fiction book) is not that of a dedicated cop finding answers but of a grieving mother, wracked with uncertainty and played with extraordinary fierceness by Amy Ryan.

Mari Gilbert (Ryan) lives in a small town in upstate New York.  She’s a single mother (no mention of any man in her life, past or present) making ends meet with blue-collar gigs (waitressing, driving heavy construction equipment) and struggling with domestic issues.

One daughter, Sherre (Thomasin McKenzie of “Jojo Rabbit” and “Leave No Trace”), has a bad case of late-teen resentfulness. The second, tweener Sarra (Oona Laurence), is bi-polar, jerked between phases of defiance and crushing melancholy.

There’s another daughter whom we never really get to meet. Shannan, we learn, hasn’t lived with her mother since  puberty; she was raised by the state in foster homes. Now she resides in New Jersey, returning home on rare occasions but regularly contributing money to support her mother and siblings.

Shannan is a prostitute who uses Craig’s List to troll for customers. Mari undoubtedly knows this; she just won’t say it out loud.

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Thomasin Mckenzie, Ben Foster

“LEAVE NO TRACE” My rating: A- 

109 minutes | MPAA rating: PG

Literature tells us.

Cinema shows us.

And few films are better at showing us than “Leave No Trace,” Debra Granik’s second feature (after 2010’s flabbergastingly good “Winter’s Bone”).

There’s little dialogue in this film, and most of that is of a matter-of-fact nature. Situations that other movies would take pains to explain here  go unaddressed.

But far from diminishing the experience, this oral reticence makes  “Leave No Trace”  a rewardingly rich viewing experience.  Nobody tells us what’s going on; we simply watch…and then we know.

As the film begins 15-year-old Tom (Thomasin McKenzie) and her father Will (Ben Foster) appear to be on a camping trip. They’re foraging for food, cooking over a campfire, sleeping under a tarp.

But at certain points Will announces that they’re having a drill. Dropping everything, Tom races into the thick forest undergrowth.  If her father can find her, she’s flunked.

Clearly,  this is no suburban father and daughter on a weekend retreat. The two are living in the woods, evading hikers and a groundskeeping crew of prison convicts. Periodically they go into town — they’re squatting in a park just outside Portland — where Will picks up his cocktail of psychotropic drugs from the V.A. and resells them to other veterans in a hobo town.

How did father and daughter end up hiding out in the woods?  What happened to Tom’s mother? What is the nature of Will’s mental illness? (A big clue is the way he involuntarily flinches whenever he hears a helicopter.) And is he dangerous?

The screenplay by Granik and regular collaborator Anne Rossellini (based on Peter Rock’s novel My Abandonment) lets those questions hang. But no worries…everything we need to know about these fugitives is there if we pay attention.

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