Reviews

  • Marsha Hunt’s Sweet Adversity (2015)

    Marsha Hunt’s Sweet Adversity (2015)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Hollywood documentaries are often made about the immensely successful, to cap decades of stardom. Others are made about those who died too young. And then there’s the third category, of actors who left the business, not necessarily on their own terms, and found rich rewarding lives away from the cameras. Marsha Hunt certainly fits that third category, as described in Marsha Hunt’s Sweet Adversity: After a substantial fifteen-year career in Hollywood, she moved to television… and got targeted by the Hollywood blacklist of the early 1950s. Her Hollywood career effectively cut short, she first turned to Broadway or travelling troupes and eventually to philanthropy to become a humanitarian activist on behalf of the United Nations, highlighting various causes and gathering support from entertainment-industry friends. (There’s an interesting contrast here with other creatives whose Hollywood stars dimmed and often ended up in miserable circumstances: Hunt was not abusing substances, didn’t have mental health issues and remained a hard worker no matter the circumstances – which explains how she kept working and remained in generally good spirits throughout the rest of her life.) It’s quite an admirable life, and Marsha Hunt’s Sweet Adversity does what it can to convey it. Alas, the material is often better than the filmmaking skill bringing it to the screen: this is a low-budget presentation and the blunt way the material is delivered doesn’t always do justice to its subject. Still, even knowing the story of her post-Hollywood career can be enough. It’s possible to watch Hunt’s classic movies and wonder at her talent and sex appeal, but you really have to watch Sweet Adversity to understand one of the best second acts in Hollywood history, even if it happened away from Hollywood.

  • Zombieland: Double Tap (2019)

    Zombieland: Double Tap (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) The first Zombieland was almost too good to be real, and perhaps Zombieland: Double Tap’s biggest success is that it remains generally comparable to its predecessor rather than drop the ball completely. It can’t equal or even approach the first film, obviously – the zeitgeist has moved on from zombies, the sarcastic simplicity of the first film can’t be re-done, and the actors are all ten years older. But Double Tap does find its own off-beat way, with new characters (the best being played by Zoey Deutch and Rosario Dawson), new settings from Graceland to Atlanta, and a spin on a hopeful finale. The sense of humour remains the most distinguishing characteristic of this take on the zombie mythos, along with a fast-paced rhythm and a generous use of both narration and on-screen gags. While still a regression to the mean, Double Tap is still a worth follow-up to the first film and will make a pretty good double bill with it.

  • Terminator: Dark Fate (2019)

    Terminator: Dark Fate (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) Oh wow, it finally happened – for the first time since Terminator 3, the series somehow turned out an instalment that didn’t have substantial shortcomings. Too bad that it had to essentially redo the first film and add legacy characters for show. After the dismal Salvation and dull Genisys, expectations couldn’t have been lower for Dark Fate – and accordingly, the film pretends (again) that everything after the second film hasn’t happened. (Don’t worry – the next film in the series will do the same.) This time, we’re back to basics, as a young woman is chased down by machines, albeit with a few twists – The characters from Terminator 2 have aged and are still around, while the future has changed but a different thread remains. While there are a few new faces here, none can really pretend to become the new face of the series – Mackenzie Grace is particularly bland in a role that should be far more striking. The result is a redo of the first Terminator slathered in legacy sauce, with timelines and various kinds of androids-from-the-future all competing for attention. While well executed by director Tim Miller, the overall impact is similar to Terminator 3: It’s clearly in the same lineage, it doesn’t make any major mistakes… but it still feels like lavishly produced fan fiction rather than an authentic follow-up. Having both Arnold Schwarzenegger and Linda Hamilton reprise their roles certainly reinforces this impression of the series being unable to let go. But that’s kind of baked into the very idea of continuing this series – as long as the commercial imperative is there, Skynet will be rebuilt, replaced or redone and other robots will be sent back in time to target other humans. There’s a Sisyphus-like exasperation built into every new film in the series and IT WILL NEVER END.

  • Jumanji: The Next Level (2019)

    Jumanji: The Next Level (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) The least you can say about Jumanji: The Next Level is that it’s consistent with its predecessor. Further digging into the “Jumanji as videogame” spin from its earlier predecessors, this sequel keeps more or less the same level of humour, body-switching gags (leading to acting impersonations) and level-based schematic narrative. But when you’re got distinctive performers like Dwayne Johnson, Jack Black, Kevin Hart, Karen Gillan, Awkwafina, Danny Glover and Danny DeVito, well, why tinker with a winning formula? The result somehow avoids excessive repetition, and keeps up the blend of humour and special-effects adventure. Director Jake Kasdan keeps things moving at a brisk clip (unusually enough, the 123-minute effects-heavy film was completed in something like ten months) and the actors deliver what they were hired for. Jumanji: The Next Level may not be easy to distinguish from its predecessor, but it’s more or less the same level of quality, and that was one of the best outcomes anyone could hope for.

  • Midsommar (2019)

    Midsommar (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) The good news is that, compared to writer-director Ari Aster’s previous Hereditary, I wasn’t actively wishing for all characters in Midsommar to die horribly as soon as possible. The bad news is that I wasn’t really opposed to their deaths either. Considering that the film is folk horror and my distaste for that subgenre is particularly well documented, at least I’m being consistent. What’s less subjective, however, is the film’s ludicrously overlong 147 minutes for a story that could have been told far more crisply. At this point, I’m growing increasingly certain that I just don’t like Aster’s approach to horror, period. His self-indulgent style seems custom-made to wow critics more than audiences, and the way he courts the “elevated horror” crowd (which is probably a dead-end) is almost antithetical to the way the horror genre has evolved for decades. Also: internalized misandry, once again. But hey – Midsommar is daytime folk horror in which a deplorable person gets to kill her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend with impunity. You kids go nuts if that’s what you want to see.

  • Neptune’s Daughter (1949)

    Neptune’s Daughter (1949)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) I’m not that taken by Neptune’s Daughter as a film, but it does have a few interesting elements. The plot has something to do with an aquatic dancer (Esther Williams, obviously), a South American polo player (the great Richardo Montalban), a bumbling masseur taking on another identity (Red Skelton, equal to himself) and the dancer’s lovesick sister (Betty Garrett, confusingly playing a “Betty Barrett”). With such a blend of acting sensibilities, it’s perhaps inevitable that the film splits in halves – a romantic duo between Williams and Montalban, and a comic strand headlined by Skelton and Garrett. The romance has the advantage of being more broadly appealing than the often-thick comedy, but those who are receptive to the comedy will find it much more entertaining than the more ordinary romantic couple. This is best exemplified by the duelling interpretation of “Baby It’s Cold Outside,” which somehow makes its debut here: a bit dull on the romantic side, but considerably more entertaining with the comedians. Despite Montalban getting a good role as a romantic lead, the film is still filled with stereotypes that wouldn’t pass muster today, or at least be heavily questioned – especially Mel Blanc’s rare on-screen role and voice he’d later use for Speedy Gonzales. Technicolour cinematography does improve the film. If you’re going down the list of the Williams or Skelton films, Neptune’s Daughter is clearly not top-tier material. But it still has enough to be entertaining if you’re in the right frame of mind.

  • John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum (2019)

    John Wick: Chapter 3 – Parabellum (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) Every new John Wick instalment is bigger, slicker, longer and more expressionistic – at least from an action/visual standpoint, albeit not so much from a narrative one. In John Wick 3: Parabellum, we pick up where the second left off – with the entire world of assassins gunning for Wick after he’s been declared excommunicado. This, of course, ends up being a license for John Wick to kill more people, starting with a book and then moving on to other weaponry, improvised or otherwise. True to form for stuntman-turned-director Chad Stahelski, the action is meticulously choreographed, set in visually distinct environments, employing dozens of small gags to make sure it doesn’t all blur into undistinguishable “and then they fight” sequences. Surprisingly colourful for an action film, Paralleum also throws in several directorial flourishes (the extended long shots being only the most obvious) for a result that feels far more deliberate (and maximal-effort) than countless other similar assassin-versus-assassin films. The set design is also exceptional – and it’s very satisfying to see a humble Commodore computer used at the Suicide-Girl switchboard. Where the film doesn’t do as well, alas, is at the script level. Sure, it’s not bad – the dialogue is polished, the narrative moves its pieces with style, and the actors get some great characterization to play with. But at the overarching narrative level, John Wick 3 ends in more or less the same place as it began, the canvas betting bigger but not the composition within. It’s still loads of fun – there isn’t a better action series going around outside of The Fast and the Furious—but let’s hope that the inevitable John Wick 4 gets some degree of evolution or closure.

  • Knives Out (2019)

    Knives Out (2019)

    (Amazon Streaming, December 2020) What a complete delight. The murder mystery is an enduring form of cinema – you can watch some 1930s classics with equal delight today, but the subgenre has not always been as popular over the years. But with Knives Out, we’ve got a brand new great one, with all the classic tropes: a gothic setting, a large cast of suspects, a savvy detective, snappy dialogue and a final round-up of suspects leading tot the climax. It’s everything we want from such a film, and even a bit more with some light interweaving of socially conscious themes. Writer-director Rian Johnson knocks one out of the park here – bringing the promise of greatness he’s had since Brick, but weaving in everything he’s learned about directing since then. Johnson has always been clever, but until now, he had struggled to transform this cleverness into audience-pleasing filmmaking. Here the film is subversive and experimental with plot structures, but remains playful and entertaining until the end. Daniel Craig anchors the cast as great new detective Benoit Leblanc, with a hypnotizing southern accent and a demeanour that fits with the rest of the ensemble cast without getting drowned in it. Ana de Armas also has a good turn – she’s been an interesting presence for a few years, but this specific role asks more of her and she delivers. Knives Out is all quite wonderful and fun – while I’m not one to encourage imitation, when it comes to murder mysteries, I’m willing to make an exception: Go wild and start a trend, Hollywood.

  • On Dangerous Ground (1951)

    On Dangerous Ground (1951)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) Film nor takes a trip to the country for crime and romance in director Nicholas Ray’s On Dangerous Ground. Robert Ryan stars as a burnt out suspect-punching New York City cop who, in the film’s opening segment, gets reprimanded by being sent upstate to cool off and help an ongoing murder investigation. The second portion of the film is a contrast in more ways than one, as the rainy nighttime visuals are replaced by the serene beauty of snowy farmlands and our policeman anti-hero gets to interact with people who aren’t necessarily the scum of the Earth. This is where he meets a beautiful blind woman (the ever-striking Ida Lupino), for whom he falls despite her brother being his prime suspect. It all escalates into a climax that’s both predictable and satisfying within the confines of the film’s sense of right and wrong – romance gradually creeping up on the criminal arc and acting as the true resolution of the film. It’s quite an unusual blend despite its familiarity – noir in the snow and eventually replaced by romantic redemption. But that’s the magic of Ray as a director – make us believe in dubious material, and somehow wrapping it up in a coherent package.

  • Just Mercy (2019)

    Just Mercy (2019)

    (On Cable TV, December 2020) I don’t feel like criticizing Just Mercy, because this film pretty much says what I think – the death penalty is an abomination, county justice is perverted by racism and it takes strong people to fight against injustice while knowing that it’s a never-ending struggle. What’s more, the film can boast of some serous acting talent – Michael B. Jordan as the crusading attorney working to prove the innocence of inmates condemned to the death penalty; Jamie Foxx as a death-row convict who becomes the focus of the film; Brie Larson looking nice in curly hair but saddled with a small role. It’s clearly part of a long tradition of anti-death-penalty films, albeit more focused than most through the specific lens of Black America. Destin Daniel Cretton executes the film with professionalism –if not succinctness at 137 minutes. It’s hard to be against virtue. But where I’m not so taken with Just Mercy is the feeling that we’ve seen all of this before, that it’s very much a prestige project designed to buff the portfolio of everyone involved; and that we’re likely to see endless permutations of this until, in some distant future, the United States joins civilized nations in abolishing the death penalty. It’s an intensely familiar film, playing along conventional plot beats and reassuring audiences that justice can be attained. Being adapted from a true story and presenting itself as a drama means no shocking last-minute revelation, for instance, and that level of comfort in knowing where this is all going certainly counts in favour of the film for general audiences. Alas, Just Mercy also feels like the kind of inspirational drama that satisfies audiences… and is forgotten within weeks of seeing it.

  • Always Be My Maybe (2019)

    Always Be My Maybe (2019)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2020) Let’s be thankful to Netflix for keeping the flame of romantic comedies lit – and carrying it just a little bit further. Ali Wong and Randall Park both write, produce and star in Always Be My Maybe, a charming romantic comedy that not only tells the story of two lifelong friends reunited for romance, but layers in added dimensions of social commentary and pop-culture humour. The rom-com framing is strong enough, with a newly single restaurateur (Wong) temporarily moving back to her home city of San Francisco and accidentally reuniting with a teenage friend/fling (Park). Will they pick things right back up? Well, first we have to deal with a romantic rival played by… Keanu Reeves, as a warped version of Keanu Reeves – quite a casting coup, and good for two scenes of almost-surreal comedy. The rest of the film gets back to more familiar stomping grounds, with matters of ethnicity, community, friendship and personal growth jockeying for time on the way to a deservedly happy finale. It’s all directed in straightforward but effective fashion by Nahnatchka Khan, who doesn’t reinvent the genre but gives it a very satisfying spin. Always Be My Maybe is the kind of mid-budget film that got lost in the major studios’ quest for billion-dollar blockbusters, and for all of Netflix’s faults, it’s nice of them to spare a few bills for that kind of project.

  • In the Tall Grass (2019)

    In the Tall Grass (2019)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2020) In horror, hooking an audience is easy – but getting them to an appropriate conclusion is the hard part. In the Tall Grass, based on a novella by Stephen King and his son Joe Hill, at least gets the first part right, as a brother and sister hear cries for help from a tall field of grass and head in… only to find themselves unable to get out. From that point on, the film becomes far less successful: strange and disturbing elements accumulate, but when it comes time to wrap it all up, the film can’t quite make sense of everything it has smashed together. It certainly looks great – director Vincenzo Natali has enough experience to be able to make us believe in a sinister field of grass trapping its victims. But it’s on a narrative level that In the Tall Grass is either incoherent or facile. Considering that the film messes with unreliable geography and time travel and hallucinations, you’d be forgiven for thinking that nothing in this film makes sense longer than the images it features. What could have been a clean, solid plotline ends up overcomplicated beyond belief to no clear purpose. By the time some characters do make it out of the grass field, we’re just happy it’s over.

  • Blood and Wine (1996)

    Blood and Wine (1996)

    (Netflix Streaming, December 2020) I don’t think that Blood and Wine is all that good, but the rather amazing cast bolsters a nicely effective neo-noir plot and leaves enough of a good impression to make it worthwhile. Any movie that pairs up Jack Nicholson with Michael Caine as would-be jewel thieves, then adds Stephen Dorff and a splendid Jennifer Lopez as a younger couple (plus Judy Davis and Harold Perrineau Jr. to round things up) definitely gets some attention. Once you start weaving a twisty plot of thievery, betrayal and revenge, however, things get far more interesting. The sultry atmosphere of Southern Florida polishes things to a warm entertaining finish. Plot-driven without neglecting characters, Blood and Wine proceeds without mercy throughout its own fatalistic hit list: As a film noir from the 1990s, it can be less than subtle at times, but still worth a look for pure entertainment.

  • Keepers of the Magic (2016)

    Keepers of the Magic (2016)

    (On TV, December 2020) An explicit interest in cinematography is often how you can distinguish moviegoers from cinephiles – understanding how the images of cinema come to be created is a bold leap in the technical aspect of filmmaking, and unlocking the secret language of cinema – beyond script, beyond acting, even beyond directing – is often about how visuals affect our emotional reaction to the content of a film. In Keepers of the Magic, we get a good evocative look at some of the best cinematographers in the business as of 2016, and highlights of previous decades. It’s an introductory film (it’s hard to be that technical in 90 minutes) and it relies on interviews and anecdotes more than analysis or historical reporting – but it’s quite a bit of fun for those who are familiar with the films being discussed, and those who want to explore the often crucial but seldom highlighted relationship between directors and cinematographers. Heck, writer-director-cinematographer Vic Sarin’s Keepers of the Magic goes even a little bit further – in a telling anecdote, we’re told how a clever cinematographer can help out actors by providing them with a break and blaming it on resetting equipment. There’s a lot of footage to illustrate the anecdotes, and it almost always looks terrific due to the nature of the topic being discussed. As someone who has, thanks to the pandemic lockdowns, recently watched an unhealthy number of movies, I really enjoyed the result: I can always use reminders that films are more than plot engines, and that there’s a significant effort in showing us things in evocative ways.

  • You Are What You Act (2018)

    You Are What You Act (2018)

    (On TV, December 2020) A feature-length examination of the old saw “fake it ‘till you make it,” You Are What You Act begins by examining incidents in which actors (actors!) were involved in real high-risk situations and practically became true action heroes at a time when many people would have simply frozen in place. Writer-director Albert Nerenberg uses this as a springboard to an examination of the field of “embodied cognition” – the idea that physical practice, visualization, and role-playing can prepare your body and your mind to be ready for future situations. You Are What You Act’s big crush on Tom Cruise is a bit amusing (seriously – he comes up three or four times during the course of the film), but the point is that Cruise, playing an action hero and often doing his own stunts, is exposing himself to high-risk situations and learning how to react during them. Not that the film stops there – noting the very high prevalence of affairs between on-screen romantic partners, Nerenberg explores whether there are shortcuts to human emotions – if it’s possible to fall in love by telling another that you love them until you both believe it. Midway through the film, there are plenty of ways you can poke holes at its theory – not the least of them being that actors have publicists, but more realistically that acting exercises have been with us for a long time. Almost on cue, that’s when You Are What You Act does become more interesting, by criticizing itself and exploring the history of drama exercises that create rapid emotional intimacy between actors required to fake it until we believe them. It all ends up in a big ball of multidisciplinary ideas thrown in a blender, but hard to dismiss. Nerenberg himself makes for a very likable host, well informed and willing to portray himself as exploring doubts in his own thesis. One tangent I would like to have followed is the idea that expertise stems from repetition driving conscious actions into unconscious reactions – but maybe that’s implicit in the rest of the film. I was, at first, somewhat skeptical about You Are What You Act –Tom Cruise obsession included – but eventually warmed up to the film as it kept re-examining its thesis for flaws or links with other theories. It’s a clever film about a clever topic, and it deserves a look if you have even a passing interest in self-improvement.