Reviews

  • Book Club (2018)

    Book Club (2018)

    (On TV, December 2020) Cinema should be for everyone, and that includes demographic groups far, far away from mine. Thus enters Book Club, a romantic comedy featuring and aimed at women of retirement age. As four decades-long friends have their mutual social life revolve around a book club, their newest pick is Fifty Shades of Grey, and things pick up from there—from rekindling loveless marriages to golden age online dating to reuniting with an old flame, Book Club keeps things at a naughty titter (which isn’t much, but it’s the thought that counts). Perhaps the film’s most valuable contribution is allowing a cast made of Diane Keaton, Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen and Mary Steenburgen (superb, no matter the age) to play against each other, and provide some representation for a demographic often neglected in mainstream cinema. (Let’s also admire the intricate joke of having Don Johnson play in a film where Fifty Shades of Gray is explicitly mentioned.) The material doesn’t rise much above mediocrity and the humour barely pokes at the PG-13 level, but Book Club is still somewhat endearing – this is a fun group of actresses, and they are apparently having fun here.

  • Think Like a Dog (2020)

    Think Like a Dog (2020)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) So, if I’ve seen the same film as everyone else, Think Like a Dog is a kids’ comedy with a talking dog in which the mom is played by (check notes)… Megan Fox? And the dad is… Josh Duhamel? Okay, we’ve got the makings of a whole-family pleaser here. Released straight to VOD, this isn’t meant to be a particularly slick, high-end, imaginative kind of production. In fact, it’s almost endearing how closely Think Like a Dog hews closely to an almost-parodic concept of a “talking dog” archetypical family film. Does it work? Sure, if you’re indulgent: the comedy beats are broad, the antagonists are pure caricature and the comic potential of having a dog suddenly being intelligible to humans is only explored at a superficial level. Still, Think Like a Dog is watchable, especially if your expectations are low or if the kids control the remote.

  • Long Shot (2019)

    Long Shot (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) The question as to whether romantic comedy can blend with a political drama is about as relevant as the odd coupling for Charlize Theron and Seth Rogen in Long Shot. Is this stoner comedy or wish-fulfillment fantasy? Much of the film wants to be an old-fashioned mismatched-couple kind of rom-com; the other half wants to be crude and irresponsible and party on. It’s an odd blend nearly everywhere you look, and it’s to Theron and Rogen’s credit that the film doesn’t split apart from its blended identity. There’s also some weirdness here in the film being almost ashamed of its own liberal leanings and working overtime to do some late-film bipartisanship. But at least it’s funny, and also endearing in replicating the attractive-woman-funny-man archetype. In the end, though –aside from a few moments that could have been toned down—Long Shot makes it across the finish line acceptably enough: it’s sweet and funny and unthreatening enough despite its R rating. It would have been better as a PG-13, but that too is part of its split personality.

  • Rocketman (2019)

    Rocketman (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) I’m not a big Elton John fan, but I’m marginally more of a fan now that I’ve seen the flamboyant jukebox biopic Rocketman. The narrative arc will be familiar, tracking how a shy, self-effacing boy gradually transforms into an exuberant performer, falls prey to addiction, and then gradually climbs back to sobriety while remaining a pop icon. A picture of its time, Rocketman doesn’t shy away from discussing the singer’s homosexuality – and even throws in what’s marketed as “the first film by a major studio to include a gay male sex scene.” The jukebox underscoring all of this, fortunately, is very broad and memorable: Even casual fans will recognize something like a dozen songs, so thoroughly has John’s music permeated half a dozen decades. In the hands of director Dexter Fletcher, Rocketman is a colourful, fast-paced and easy-to-watch homage. The style arguably elbows the substance out of the way, resulting in a sketchier portrait of the person when put against the music and fashion. Still, Taron Egerton does surprisingly well as the singer, and the film almost manages to become an old-fashioned movie musical with its emphasis on impressionistic musical numbers. There’s a formula at play in Rocketman, clearly, but it is very well executed. Watch it once, listen to it twice or more.

  • Sometimes Always Never (2018)

    Sometimes Always Never (2018)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Bill Nighy has a considerable amount of charm, but it’s a mistake to think that this specific appeal is enough to compensate for a dull movie project. Sometimes Always Never proves that this is not the case. Nighy ably plays a grieving father who, after years of searching for his lost son, tries to grow closer to his other son, identify a body, and perhaps find his missing son behind an online pseudonym. Stylized, off-beat and yet not quite compelling enough, this is a moody film that tries hard, but struggles to succeed. It’s not as if it’s completely uninteresting – the focus on Scrabble is promising, Ella-Grace Gregoire is very cute, Nighy is up to his high standards, and Alexei Sayle makes a welcome appearance. But despite Sometimes Always Never’s self-conscious quirk, it never manages to lift and carry audiences with it.

  • American Pastoral (2016)

    American Pastoral (2016)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) As you know, constant reader, there is no need to lump generations in one monolith: We can find greater affinities with similarly minded members of other generations than create artificial divisions between ourselves and OH MY GOD HERE’S ANOTHER ACCURSED 1960s BABY BOOMER MOVIE. Ahem. Sorry. That just came out. Directed and starring Ewan McGregor (born 1971; a GenXer, if that matters), American Pastoral is an adaptation of the 1997 novel by Philip Roth (born 1933; a Silent Generation, if that also matters) that takes place throughout the 1960s. It focuses on an ordinary man as he undergoes crises marked by his wife’s infidelity but, more crucially, the involvement of their daughter in a deadly bombing. The novel sold well and was acclaimed all the way to a Pulitzer Prize; the film is in the process of disappearing without a trace. Directed without flair by McGregor, American Pastoral struggles to have something to say – the daughter is rebellious, the wife grows distant, the father looks for his fugitive girl and… that’s that. The awards-baiting quality of the film isn’t even remotely matched by bland dialogue and unconvincing plotting. I understand that the adaptation is a rushed, slimmed-down and earnest depiction of a novel that’s far more ironic in framing and purpose. Maybe; but the film itself is also long, uninvolving and featureless. Jennifer Connelly is wasted, but she’s not the only one – all of American Pastoral feels like an aimless production. Hopefully, it will unite all generations – against it.

  • Let Them All Talk (2020)

    Let Them All Talk (2020)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) How did Let Them All Talk go so wrong? It has a genius-level director, an impeccable cast (even just with Meryl Streep, Candice Bergen and Dianne Wiest), the backdrop of an ocean liner, a writer-as-protagonist, the always-cute Gemma Chan, and yet it all falls flat. One of my favourite settings in fiction is the ocean liner – a vast but enclosed space in which dramas can play out on a very romantic stage. But director Steven Soderbergh somehow manages to make it all look and feel so banal. The dialogue is trite and uninteresting, the characters are bland and over-privileged (Oh, no, you based your book on my life and my life is now ruined – get a grip over yourself) and the directing is both flat and unremarkable. Really, it’s as if Soderbergh went on an all-destroying mission to leech away all energy from what he had at his disposal. Part of it can be explained by the film’s production, heavy on naturalistic light and staging, as well (more crucially) on rambling improvised dialogue. But that’s the price to pay for Soderbergh’s unquenchable thirst for experimentation: Sometimes, you get a masterpiece, and other times, you get the antithesis of that. At least there’s Chan to make it slightly better.

  • The Rose (1979)

    The Rose (1979)

    (In French, On Cable TV, December 2020) If you wanted an actress for a high-energy rock singer biography in the late 1970s, you really only had two choices: Barbra Streisand or Bette Midler. While Streisand had hers in A Star is Born, here is Midler taking on not-Janis Joplin’s role in The Rose. While the script doesn’t stray too far away from the usual showbiz-sex-drugs-and-rock-and-roll template (albeit without a redemption arc, because Joplin was the inspiration and the 1970s were mean like that), the entire film is carried by Midler. Her high-energy performance is far better than the (rather decent) material she’s given, and even at a time when Joplin is a distant memory, Midler is still fit to impress here. Amazingly enough – this was her big-screen acting debut (other than one previous concert film) and she effortlessly crosses from singing sensation to acting. The rest of the film, directed competently by Mark Rydell, is far more ordinary – but the period atmosphere is getting enjoyable with time. Still, The Rose is Midler’s show – and the single best reason to seek this out.

  • Little Women (2019)

    Little Women (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) After seeing a few versions of Little Women through the history of filmmaking, I love that this is a story that gets a remake every few decades. It’s a splendid lens through which to see the evolution of cinema, whether technically, thematically or socially. Keep the same story, but do it differently with a new cast – the differences become the real content. Are you more of a Katharine Hepburn, Wynona Ryder or Saoirse Ronan fan? This newest version, thanks to writer-director Greta Gerwig, is in fairly intense conversation with Louisa May Alcott’s written material– the social values of 1869 being interrogated (but not always criticized) by 2019. It helps that I find the base story comforting – and it’s not hard at all to cheer for the writer-protagonist. Technically, this is the best adaptation of Little Woman to date – superb cinematography, immersive set design, great costumes and top-notch sound design. Acting-wise, time will tell if the all-star cast will endure as well (or better!) than previous takes on the same material. But one thing’s for sure – this is the definitive circa-2019 take. Now let’s wait for the 2039 one.

  • The Lighthouse (2019)

    The Lighthouse (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) I’m not necessarily unsympathetic to unusual cinema, but The Lighthouse clearly tested my patience through interminable lengths, sparse plotting, show-off atmosphere, uncertain genre affiliation and a downer ending. Granted, writer-director Robert Eggers has trained viewers to expect strange things from him with The Witch, and The Lighthouse is clearly in a similar genre: minimal cast, closed-off location, astonishing attention to period detail, and no happy ending in sight. Willem Defoe and Robert Pattinson star as two 1890s lighthouse keepers, isolated on an island off the coast of New England, whose rough-hewn camaraderie is tested by cabin fever, ominous portents, hallucinations and supernatural appearances. Or something like that: I use “supernatural appearances” as if this was a done deal when, in fact, this could all be a psychological drama. Naaah — movies are more fun when it’s supernatural, so supernatural is what we’ll call it. And trust me – you’ll need every bit of spare fun in order to make it through this intentionally interminable ordeal. Eggers seems intent on giving you the whole weeks-long experience, just so that you’ll sympathize with the character going stir-crazy. To be fair, Defoe and Pattinson are quite good in their roles (in fact, Defoe is absolutely terrific), their dialect is suitably thick, and the period atmosphere (even in a monochromatically shot hermetic universe like the lighthouse and its island) is so thick it’s almost oppressive. (The boxy aspect ratio certainly helps in creating confinement.) But in the end, and this despite a hefty dose of dark comedy, The Lighthouse leaves no bigger question than “So what?” Eggers clearly shot the film he wanted to, with scarcely any compromise to commercial appeal. I suppose that is something to be treasured in today’s cinematic hyper-financial obsession. But being weird and being worthwhile are not strictly aligned values. After seeing the extraordinary efforts made to make The Lighthouse off-beat and rebarbative, I’m just tempted to shrug and ask again – so what?

  • Nez Rouge (2003)

    Nez Rouge (2003)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) One of Québec’s most charming cultural institutions is the Nez Rouge car escorting service, in which inebriated partygoers can call and have a volunteer drive them home in the weeks prior to Christmas. Nominally free (but usually considered a charity service), it’s a near-fixture in French Canada during the first half of December – and you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone with something bad to say about it. In other words – a perfect crowd-pleasing backdrop for a mainstream Christmas romantic comedy. In Nez Rouge, Patrick Huard stars as a literary critic and Michèle-Barbara Pelletier as an author he has harshly criticized: Over the course of the Nez Rouge season, their antagonism becomes something far more romantic. Directed in straightforward fashion by Érik Canuel, Nez Rouge isn’t particularly good, but it scratches the kind of “it’s December, let’s see a homegrown Christmas movie!” impulse that grabs theatre owners, TV programmers and French-Canadian audiences alike.

  • Dead Man (1995)

    Dead Man (1995)

    (Criterion Streaming, December 2020) After going through much of writer-director Jim Jarmusch’s filmography over the past few months, I’m no closer to liking his films… but I think I can begin to understand where he’s coming from, and maybe even be satisfied with what he’s doing. Dead Man is like that: Surprisingly, I do like quite a bit of it, but the longer it goes on, the more exasperating it becomes… even if I get what Jarmusch is going for. It’s a western, certainly – it starts on a train where an accountant is about to begin a job in a frontier town; later, most of the action takes place in the woods, as three bounty hunters pursue the protagonist and the Native American who saved him. Other than that, though, it gets a bit weird: The frontier town of Machine is a proto-steampunk nightmare of industrialization leading to decay, and the protagonist spends a lot of time in a delirious state of mind, spurred to consider himself the reborn poet William Blake. Casting counts for a lot – a young Johnny Depp plays the accountant-turned-murderer, while the legendary Robert Mitchum has his last role here as a patriarch. Notables such as Crispin Glover, Lance Henriksen, John Hurt, Iggy Pop, Gabriel Byrne, Jared Harris, Billy Bob Thornton and Alfred Molina all turn up at some point, sometimes very briefly. It’s all shot in black-and-white, with strange visions from time to time. I greatly preferred the opening half-hour of the film – the arrival in town, the walk through the dangerous main street, the nightmarish vision of a factory and the complications of meeting a pretty girl. After that, Dead Man runs out of steam until the ending as it walks deep into the woods and loses itself in pontification. Quirky to the extreme, it zigs where every other western zags, and that’s reason enough to have a look even for those who can’t stand western or remain dubious about Jarmusch.

  • Valley Girl (2020)

    Valley Girl (2020)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Remaking 1980s cultural touchstone Valley Girl – terrible idea or awful idea? As it turns out – neither: director Rachel Lee Goldenberg gives just enough of a different spin to her film to become its own thing while clearly paying homage to its inspiration. Cleverly, this Valley Girl ends up being a recollection from a late-2010ish mom talking about her own childhood to a twenty-first century teen – meaning that we get musical numbers, lavish use of a 1980s soundtrack (but new age 1980s, not necessarily the most irritating stuff), self-consciously romantic/mythologic recreation of the era and more than a few forward-looking jokes. The narrative isn’t anything special and unthreatening lead actor Josh Whitehouse isn’t Nicolas Cage, but Jessica Rothe does rather well as the protagonist, and there are enough familiar faces in the film for a few pleasant surprises. Where this Valley Girl does much better is as a retro-pop jukebox-musical – the framing device gives permission to just enjoy the material for what it is – a gentle colourful bubble-gum concoction that is not and will not become a classic, but is fun enough for a spin.

  • Junior Majeur (2017)

    Junior Majeur (2017)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) French-Canadian film producers will make hockey movies at the slightest provocation, and one of the strangest follow-ups has to be Junior Majeur, which takes characters from the kid-themed Les Pee-Wee 3d: L’hiver qui a changé ma vie and brings them five years forward, on the cusp of (maybe) being drafted for the big leagues. This time skip comes with themes and subplots more appropriate to the late-teen age group: alcohol abuse, sex, professional aspirations and friendship rifts. Slickly directed by Éric Tessier (who also helmed the first film), this is broad-spectrum filmmaking for the French-Canadian public: the references are familiar, the supporting actors are well known, the execution is professional, the acting is fine and the stakes are culturally understood. One thing it isn’t, however, is a film for kids. Does it work? It does. It may be a bit preachy around the edges, a bit closed off in its own universe, a bit gratuitously melodramatic in an attempt to create some artificial suspense, but nothing to seriously affect the film. In the end, Junior Majeur is a hockey movie. Those sell themselves. What I wonder, though, is if you can sell both films of the series as a single unit, considering that if the change in approach made sense in theatres, it leaves home viewers with very different experiences (and possibly incompatible audiences) for both films.

  • Land of the Lost (2009)

    Land of the Lost (2009)

    (In French, On Cable TV, December 2020) It’s scarcely a revelation that a Will Ferrell movie would be stupid, but Land of the Lost is extra-stupid even by his standards: A PG-13 film that still feels aimed at younger kids despite risqué humour and scary sequences, it features Ferrell as a “quantum paleontologist” who discovers some sort of alternate dimension where a world-conquest plot then takes place. Despite many special effects, a spirited supporting performance from Anna Friel and much DUMB SHOUTING from Ferrell, the film can’t quite escape the hollowness of its material or the aimlessness of its fantasy plotting. It quickly becomes tedious, then exasperating, then boring, then exasperating again as we wait for it to end. It’s never involving, either for the characters or the creatures they encounter. Sure, Land of the Lost has about two and a half minutes’ worth of interesting visuals and disconnected jokes, but that’s really not enough to keep this so-called comedy afloat.