Movie Review

  • Pushpa: The Rise – Part 1 (2021)

    (Amazon Streaming, June 2022) It’s probably time for me to step away from mainstream Indian cinema for a few months, because it’s all starting to blur together. Despite completely different regional origins and production industries, a lot of the better-known Indian films lately have been hitting very similar plot beats: lone heroes against powerful crime lords, with films split in two parts and a somewhat similar execution to the material. I’m aware that the same charges can be brought against Hollywood, but my ears aren’t as attuned to the differences in Indian cinema yet – hence the benefits of a temporary pullback. Given this overdose, I only have mildly nice things to say about Pushpa: The Rise – Part 1 (and that’s assuming I can distinguish between it, Radhe, Master, KGF (Part 1) and others). I like the premise of basing an entire film on red sandalwood smuggling, which provides the excuse of playing around with big trucks as part of the action of the film. Writer-director Sukumar shows fluency in keeping the complex film moving forward (with the execution being better than the narrative foundation), even though the final result, at three hours, remains a masala film too long to be maximally effective. Allu Arjun is quite good as the titular coolie-turned-action-hero, showing decent physicality in action sequences. It’s regrettable that Pushpa Part One is better in its first half than its second – and that lack of balance is not improved by what feels like a near-endless running time. Still, for all of its visual polish and slick filmmaking, Pushpa feels incredibly similar to many, many Indian blockbusters of the past few years, and I’m looking for a change.

  • Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022)

    (Disney Streaming, June 2022) It’s been a few rough years for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, following the climactic punctuation of Avengers: Endgame. While the Spider-Man movies have been generally well-received, other attempts to introduce new characters (or retrofit a Black Widow prequel) have been more yawn-inducing than anything else. Fortunately, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is more successful – both at presenting new adventures for a familiar character, but also in blending in a few new influences. It’s also, but not for the first time (considering the cinematic universe blending of Spider-Man: No Way Home) a Marvel Cinematic Universe film that pulls threads from previous entries and TV shows, meaning that you need to be conversant with material spanning a number of media formats in order to get the most of it. This is probably considered an asset for the MCU brain trust, who would love nothing more than to suck up all available entertainment time from their audiences, effectively transforming them from moviegoers to MCU-goers (or, specifically, Disney+ subscribers). But let’s move on from this, because there are a few interesting things to talk about in terms of character development and how self-confident the MCU can be at this point. The most notable aspect of this Multiverse of Madness, for instance, is how it’s willing to do some face-heel turns for a major character, and actively consider the possibility that its arrogant protagonist has extensive potential for self-serving evil. This plays out against a substantially more sombre tone than other films in the series – some marketing twaddle made much out of this being the MCU’s first horror film and while that typical overstatement (the Lovecraftian monster that opens up the film is cuddly enough to be plushable), there’s no denying that director Sam Raimi is pushing the envelope in less-than-desirable dimensions by suggesting a few gory deaths later on. There’s the usual number of winks and nods and portents of future adventures – I wasn’t a fan of the dark-universe Avengers, but if that suggests John Krasinski as Reed Richards, then I’m paying attention. Benedict Cumberbatch has a more interesting role (and film) this time around than in the first Doctor Strange film, while Xochitl Gomez has a much better introduction to a new character than many of the last few standalone films. The film’s last act even brings in Marvel Zombies in a relatively clever way, and there’s a terrific minute-long sequence in which dozens of parallel universes are glimpsed. The advantages of multiverses at this point of the MCU are obvious, and even outweigh the inevitable disappointment that we’re not exploring all of them. Still, in the end, and even subtracting points from the nagging feeling that the MCU is an unsustainable black hole of film dollars and attention, Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness is a strong entry in the series, one that shows that there’s life after Endgame and that even stressing the film series with the comics’ anything-goes blend of technology, magic, fantasy, science fiction and parallel universes is a workable proposition.

  • Under Capricorn (1949)

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) I thought I was done with director Alfred Hitchcock’s Hollywood filmography except for The Paradine Case, but as it turns out, I had overlooked all about 1949’s Under Capricorn. There are good reasons for that: Contrarily to much of Hitchcock’s filmography, it’s a brightly-coloured romantic melodrama set against the backdrop of 1931 Sydney as a frontier town. What’s more, it’s executed as a filmed stage play, with very few cuts and a marked emphasis on costume drama. The story eventually achieves a Hitchcockian velocity once a gun, an affair and attempted murder all come into play. Still, this isn’t Hitchcock as we know it: it’s almost entirely humourless, it’s too brightly lit, it’s a slower-than-slow burn and it seems dramatically at odds with the director’s strengths. It features two good actors (Joseph Cotton, but especially Ingrid Bergman) and it’s hard to fault a director for trying something different, but, in the end, Under Capricorn is almost a bore. It takes too long to get cracking, and doesn’t offer enough to Hitchcock for him to take advantage of new opportunities –and I say this having liked his equally atypical Mr. And Mrs. Smith a lot.

  • Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021)

    (Video On-Demand, June 2022) While there’s no denying that I liked Spider-Man: No Way Home, I’m also thoroughly vexed at some aspects of the film, what it represents and how it’s at the cutting edge of a bizarre blend of fannish devotion and Hollywood profit maximization. Despite a pre-release no-spoiler campaign that was useless the film started to screen, Spider-Man: No Way Home is going to remain famous for being that one Spider-Man film that acted not only as a capstone to the first Tom Holland trilogy, but also as an epilogue to the previous two Spider-Man film series– in bringing into one single film a bunch of other Spider-Man versions (i.e.: Tobey Maguire and the underrated Andrew Garfield versions) and a handful of villains cherry-picked in those films as well. One imagines a secret narrative R&D lab deep under the Hollywood sign in which the mandate “make more money from fans” led to the discovery of multiverses as a handy excuse to do whatever they could to justify the premise. Some of it definitely rings false – the use of Doctor Strange as an incompetent sorcerer leaves a bad taste, even if the lamp-shading can be amusing. Other details also don’t quite fit – I thought I was misremembering a few details about the earlier films at times, but no – it turns out that the continuity snarls were real and noticed by others as well. Of course, little of this – the weak dumb plotting, the continuity mistakes, the sometimes slap-dash execution – is meant to matter when – hold on to your spiderwebs, fans! – there’s nothing less than three Spider-Men played by their original actors, and the best-known villains of the series to boot. We’re meant to be impressed. Sometimes even touched when the film does for a few contrived emotional moments. Until we remember that there’s nothing that pounds of dollars won’t resolve if the actors are sufficiently motivated and if the lawyers are happy. In this regard, No Way Home acts as a capstone on a perverse portrayal of “intellectual property” as delivering on fannish desires for crossover events. It’s easy enough to see how we got here through the all-devouring MCU – what’s less clear and possibly frightening is where we go from there, transforming the multiplex into the biggest-budgeted TV show in history, incomprehensible unless you’ve consumed everything that came before that time. I sound crotchety and cantankerous, so let’s spend at least a few sentences talking about what I did like about the film: Tom Holland, Zendeya and Marisa Tomei, clearly. Also, Garfield is a great Spider-Man who had the bad luck of starring in less-than-good films. While the overall plotting is weak, some of it is actually ingenious in making sure to maximize the presence of characters from three cinematic universes. I won’t begrudge some choice bits of dialogue, and it’s impossible for me not to like a good old-school pick from De La Soul as musical background to the credit sequence. The MCU style is shown to be a much better fit for the characters, and there’s no denying the feeling of closure for the previous two series – and maybe this one as well. But how much if this is earned, and how much of it is cheap manipulation? Much of it, I suppose, will depend on how many times the same trick is going to be re-used in the next few years.

  • Comes a Horseman (1978)

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) Jane Fonda as a single rancher. James Caan as a WW2 veteran helping her out. Jason Robards as a local tycoon aiming to control an entire valley. An oil executive in the area to make an irresistible offer for what’s under the ground. While none of this is uninteresting, you have to keep in mind that Comes a Horseman is a typical revisionist 1970s western. It’s sober, slow, tinted brown-on-beige, obsessed with not doing the same thing as decades’ worth of westerns but, at the same time, not as successful at holding an audience’s attention. Director Alan J. Pakula is only too happy to feature social commentary on sexism, sexual abuse, rapacious oil exploitation and the impact of war even on the American hinterland. Alas, it’s a snore – if you though Heaven’s Gate was too long and slow, you clearly haven’t seen Comes a Horseman yet. There are a few good moments, but not enough of them to matter and by the time you read about the film’s production history to discover that a stuntman died while shooting the film (with the footage preceding the accident easily identifiable in the finished film), it’s enough not to care about the film at all.

  • Get Rich or Die Tryin’ (2005)

    (On TV, June 2022) Perhaps now best seen as a time capsule of a specific time and attitude, Get Rich or Die Tryin’ is most notable for being a dramatization of rapper Curtis “50 cents” Jackson’s early life as a small-time criminal turning to music for salvation. Considering that Jackson plays himself, you can count on two things: He’s not that good of an actor, and the film isn’t going to be particularly hard on the actions of his character. Or is it? Because, from a certain perspective, Get Rich or Die Tryin’ isn’t all that critical of its protagonist’s decidedly non-intellectual pursuits, or his pursuit of crime until consequences come due, such as being gunned down – you’d think that anyone would get to that conclusion well before being shot. I’m not going to keep going in that direction: there have been plenty of thoughtful pieces about the thug-rapper pivot and I’m not adding much to it. But the pall hangs over the film and is compounded by ideas we’ve seen in other, much better films. It’s a story built from entirely fictional premises rather than being “inspired by real events” and being limited by them. Get Rich or Die Tryin’ is watchable on a very basic level, but it doesn’t inspire much devotion – and there’s a whiff of unpleasantness hanging over it all.

  • 4 for Texas (1963)

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) There’s a reason why some Rat Pack films get mentioned all the time (such as Ocean’s Eleven and, to a lesser extent, Robin and the Seven Hoods) and others, not as much – such as 4 for Texas. Here, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin headline as two men of dubious morals fighting it out over a money shipment and then a riverboat casino. It’s certainly light-hearted, and having such notables as Anita Ekberg and Ursula Andress in supporting roles (plus Charles Bronson and The Three Stooges) certainly helps to make the film more interesting. But there’s a difference between a light-hearted romp and a comedy, and there’s a sense that writer-director Robert Aldrich never quite gets the mixture right – the jokes fall flat, the events never cohere into a compelling narrative and the actors don’t get to showcase what they’re best at. The writing is sexist even by the standards of the time, and the conclusion happens so quickly that it feels as if something’s missing. Dean and Sinatra certainly seem to have fun “fighting” against each other, but that energy doesn’t quite carry to the rest of the film. A misfire, a waste of talent and a surprising bore, 4 for Texas may best remain forgotten, except for obsessive Rat Pack fans.

  • Stan & Ollie (2018)

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) One of the pitfalls of asking name actors to incarnate well-known historical figures is whether they can (or should) convincingly portray the figure rather than forgo their usual persona. Stan & Ollie offers an interesting case in that Steve Coogan is still a bit too much Steve Coogan when playing Stan Laurel, but John C. Reilley is wonderfully unrecognizable as Oliver Hardy. (Which is saying a lot, considering how few actors have the bulk to play Hardy.)  The film itself is not quite as remarkable as the character work, though. Set toward the twilight of the duo’s career (with a short flashback to the 1930s as introduction), Stan & Ollie focuses on the complex relationship between creative acts, especially when one half of the equation pulls away. It’s a bit glum even when dealing with the comic process (and allowing both Coogan and Reilly to re-create a few comic routines) – this is clearly the behind-the-scenes kind of biography contrasting between public and private personas. It’s certainly very watchable: the historical re-creation is believable, the temptation to cram everything with a short span is largely resisted, and there’s even a pair of good supporting performances from Shirley Henderson and Nina Arianda as the wives of the leads. (Plus, Danny Huston as Hal Roach!)  Stan & Ollie isn’t quite true to the letter of the real-life events, but is generally close enough when it comes to the characters and their evolving relationship. The result should be fascinating to fans of the comedy duo, and interesting to anyone in the right frame of mind for a character study featuring two world-class comedians.

  • Burglar (1987)

    (In French, On Cable TV, June 2022) I’m not too sure of the real state of Whoopi Goldberg’s persona these days – depending on whom you talk to, she’s either a respected actress, a loudmouth commentator with a skill for saying regrettable things, a progressive icon or a reactionary wag. One tag that’s not often applied, however, is “sexy street-smart young woman.”  This makes Burglar remarkable even if it’s not that good of a film – in this minor early-career thriller, she’s cast as a hustler manipulated into going back to a life of crime where she accidentally witnesses a murder… but not the murderer. Goldberg gets to crack wise, act tough, look attractive and affirm blackness: an interesting combination for her fans of later years or more respectable productions. Alas, the rest of the film isn’t quite as fascinating: While the film’s best bits clearly reflect its origin in one of Lawrence Block’s series of Bernie Rhodenbarr novels, the film is executed in a perfunctory manner – the usual beats in the usual places (such as a car chase), not that many thrills despite a workable premise, and not enough attention paid to its lead character. Sometimes, it’s even irritating – The French dub grates by asking the voice actor doing Bobcat Goldwaithe’s character to use the same squeaky voice as in Police Academy, but I would not be surprised to find out it’s the same in the original English version. Burglar still gets replayed in Canada due to its status as a Canadian production (a rare live-action production for animation studio Nelvana) but otherwise would be forgotten: it’s watchable thanks to Goldberg, but not exactly worth remembering fondly.

  • Red Rocket (2021)

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) After Tangerine and The Florida Project, writer-director Sean Baker has already acquired an enviable reputation as a filmmaker with an interest in off-beat character studies, and Red Rocket only reinforces that title. Once again heading to the American South (this time: rural Texas), Baker aims to spend a few weeks alongside a sex worker trying to find their footing. It begins as a former male pornstar returns to his native small town in the hopes of reuniting with his wife and finding a job after being mysteriously run out of Los Angeles. Our protagonist is, not to put it nicely, charismatic but terrible– talking his way back into his estranged wife’s house, but quickly plotting to turn a local 17-year-old girl into a ticket back to the porn industry. It may sound dreary, but it’s a partial measure of Baker’s skill in that the film isn’t too bad of a time even when spent with a monstrous character. There’s a bit of dark humour running through the entire film (for instance; the montage sequence showing how being a freshly-retired pornographic actor isn’t a ticket to gainful employment), and the plotting does have this elusive I-wonder-what-will-happen-next quality. The film isn’t afraid to go ironic (as with the repeated use of N-Sync’s “Bye Bye Bye”), aesthetic (as in showcasing the strange beauty of an industrial plant), empathetic (in making obvious the impact of the protagonist’s actions on the “supporting” character) and even surreal (in concluding on an imaginary sequence, much like The Florida Project). It’s not exactly a fun or likable film – Simon Rex is almost too good in depicting a charming con-man and the film ends right at a moment of crises with unpleasant consequences—but it’s a remarkable one. Perhaps a touch too cynical to be as effective as The Florida Project, but an impressive third entry in a filmography that is bound to become even more imposing.

  • Les scènes fortuites (2018)

    (On TV, June 2022) Look: I’ve been honest about how I’m markedly more favourable to local French-Canadian cinema, but my patience has limits, and Les scènes fortuites skated right on the edge of exasperation for much of its running time. A low-budget personal statement from writer-director-star Guillaume Lambert, it’s a film focused on a budding filmmaker who, even in his thirties, seems unable to accomplish anything and has to settle for a single hardscrabble life with a miserable job in the dregs of TV production, perennial conflicts with the rest of his family and psychosomatic illnesses. A narrator (François Perrusse, who also pops up in a minor role later on) tries to contextualize it within a bigger omniscient perspective, but there’s no fooling viewers: this is the kind of aimless quasi-art-house personal filmmaking that quickly becomes as unbearable as its aimless character. A few good sequences set up promising plot line that could have blossomed into an interesting film, but are consciously cut short before they amount to anything. (You keep rooting for the protagonist to hook up with his cute co-worker? But HA, YOU FOOL – NO FUN ALLOWED HERE!)  The ending itself is abrupt and unsatisfying, but by that time we’re not expecting much more than table scraps from Les scenes forfuites. The film makes a lot of meta-comedy out of the protagonist aiming for “an intelligent comedy,” and that’s as pretentious as the rest of this self-consciously frustrating film.

  • K.G.F: Chapter 1 (2018)

    (Netflix Streaming, June 2022) Either the selection of Indian movies that has come to my attention lately is completely off, or I’m overdosing on the “lone action hero fights against powerful organized crime cartels” formula. KGF’s first chapter is another take on this, except that instead of battling terrorists, redwood cartels or drug dealers, this protagonist fights against a gold-mine magnate. There’s some interest in featuring dual timelines, with the modern one focusing on a banned book and a media interview, but the bulk of the story is the same old stuff, with Yash ably playing an action hero whose chances of succeeding are never in doubt (even as we wait for KGF: Chapter 2). Writer-director Prashanth Neel sets the story in 1978 and clearly has fun repurposing classic Hollywood Western cinematography in the historical context of India, but much of the film plays like a very contemporary action movie, with the protagonist beating down scores of enemies along the way. Still, at 155 minutes, there is a lot of slack left in the film – especially for an action movie that should snap from one sequence to another. There are highlights (such as a fight around burning oil drums) and some really good cinematography, but while the film was hailed as the biggest production to date from the Kannada film industry, it does end up feeling like far too many other Indian films. Maybe Chapter 2 will be more distinctive… but I’m not all that hopeful. Like this first chapter, it will most likely be watchable, yet instantly forgettable.

  • PK (2014)

    (Netflix Streaming, June 2022) I was expecting the worst from PK. Indian cinema tends to be hit-and-miss for me: I like the colour, the energy, the sense of being somewhere else, but a lot of Indian cinema feels formulaic, overly deferential to authority and often a bit naïve compared to American productions. A quick look at PK’s logline wasn’t much of a reassurance, as it boldly promised a film in which Aamir Khan played an alien stranded on Earth. Khan, known for overacting, is sometimes terrific and sometimes unbearable. As far as aliens-on-Earth comedies go, it feels as if I’ve had my lifelong fill of them decades ago, as they all feel like a twee retelling of the same kind of jokes. PK’s beginning didn’t inspire much confidence, but then – almost magically – the film became substantially better. Much of it had to do with writer-director Rajkumar Hirani going after surprisingly worthwhile targets, as the protagonist “innocently” comments on the god-men charlatans of Indian society, with some fairly pointed satirical moments about whoever claims a direct connection with God. We also get a tour of India’s major religions – I particularly enjoyed the scenes set in a Catholic church. Khan’s performance is about as weird as the film needs it to be, and that’s a compliment – his otherworldly character needs a strong quirky performance and that’s exactly what he delivers. I wasn’t quite taken by the female lead (the short hair doesn’t help), but the romantic subplot involving her and another male character is not too bad. In other words – no, I didn’t quite like PK, but it was far from being as terrible as I anticipated. Mark this as a success of sorts.

  • The Missouri Breaks (1976)

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) While I’ll never deny the appeal of an intriguing cast, it’s not a guarantee of success. If you know about 1970s Hollywood, the top-line cast and crew of The Missouri Breaks sounds like a wonder:   Director Arthur Penn! Stars Marlon Brando, Jack Nicholson, Randy Quaid and Harry Dean Stanton! What’s not to like? Well, plenty:  With Brando in the cast and a script intent on being a downbeat revisionist western, this is one film where the making-of stories are far more interesting than the film itself. According to legend, Brando was almost uncontrollable on set, going in his own bizarre eccentricities at the expense of the film’s tonal integrity. The production was plagued by bad weather, harsh on-location shooting, and a horse died while filming. Much of this is imperceptible in the finished product… except for Brando’s eccentricities, which are enough to make anyone wonder what was going on there. The rest of The Missouri Breaks doesn’t fly particularly high: intent on rejecting decades of Western tradition, the film doesn’t have much to offer instead. It plays like dull wallpaper whenever Brando is off-screen, never quite fulfilling the promise of its marquee names.

  • Cinderella Liberty (1973)

    (On Cable TV, June 2022) Back in 1940s movies, sailors on leave could be counted upon to tear up the town in perfectly acceptable ways, peck a lovely girl on the cheek and have themselves a few great dance numbers. By the early 1970s, however, movie sailors on leave had complex romantic problems with pregnant prostitutes, became surrogate fathers to biracial boys, dealt with wartime trauma and spent days untangling the absurdity of military bureaucracy. If that almost feels like a good time, just wait until the ending for a mix of motherly abandonment, infant death and identity fraud. (And yet people wonder why I despise New Hollywood movies…)  Cinderella Liberty is glum through and through, although it offers a good dramatic showcase for James Caan as the sailor stuck in Seattle while his military records are nowhere to be found. The gritty, rainy atmosphere of working-class Seattle is rendered in almost too-convincing detail, and director Mark Rydell (working with novelist/screenwriter Darryl Ponicsan) wants to make sure you feel all of it. It’s not badly made, although the quasi-melodramatic accumulation of one thing after another reaches an almost-ridiculous point if you’re not on-board with Cinderella Liberty’s intentions.