Jon Hamm

The Jesus Rolls (2019)

The Jesus Rolls (2019)

(On Cable TV, July 2020) There’s a lot to explain if we’re going to tackle The Jesus Roll. We can talk about how this is John Turturro’s return behind the camera. We can say it’s a remake of a 1974 French film. Or we can say that it’s also a The Big Lebowski spinoff focusing on a minor character. Of those things, let’s make it clear that the link between the classic 1998 Coen Brothers film and this one is one of marketing more than theme or character, because once you’re past a few surface characteristics, what we have here is a flat and perplexing crime comedy. Turturro hams it up as a lustful Latin Jewish character, but makes the mistake of believing that an acclaimed supporting character is tolerable as the lead. The Jesus Rolls does have a few highlights—mostly in the cast, which (briefly) includes such notables as Christopher Walen, Audrey Tautou, Jon Hamm, Susan Sarandon and others. There’s also a strange unpredictability in the way the film becomes a road movie, then a sex comedy (ish) with libidinous characters (ah, there’s the French influence) then ends on a whim with no real conclusion. (Or rather—it keeps going for a minute after what would have been a conclusion, just long enough to reassure us that the characters lived.) It all makes for a mess of a film—and one that’s not funny, not fun and not interesting. The comedy is sparse and pointless—while writer-director Turturro seems to be having a blast, it’s in service of a piece so personal that it might as well be rebarbative. The contrast with The Big Lebowski couldn’t be clearer.

Majorie Prime (2017)

(On Cable TV, June 2020) An example of how science fiction can take place in mere words rather than necessarily drowning in special effects, Majorie Prime is an adaptation of a theatrical play exploring memory and grief through the replacement of deceased persons by androids. It’s an intimate and quiet SF film with quite a cast—Geena Davis and Tim Robbins in heavy-duty dramatic roles, Jon Hamm in a role that’s both charming and profound, and perhaps most of all Lois Smith as the grieving woman who finds solace in an android version of her ex-husband. Most of the actors have quite a challenge in approaching their characters in two different ways. Director Michael Almereyda keeps Majorie Prime quite restrained in presentation (it’s essentially a living-room movie), but the narrative gets wilder and wilder as it digs into its themes, landing on a tone not dissimilar to a Black Mirror episode. There is some unachieved potential, perhaps due to a limited budget and a consequent refusal to get to the end of the premise. (One fundamental limitation: Actors who remain the same age.) Ever the contrarian, I found myself darkly amused by Majorie Prime’s less-than-comic resolution: the particulars of the SF device justifying the plot don’t always make a lot of sense, even if it leads to a conclusion of pitch-black humour in which our cast of characters has become something else, co-fabulating their ways into better and better memories.

Lucy in the Sky (2019)

(On Cable TV, June 2020) J. G. Ballard must be smiling in his grave—he was among the first, through his 1960s Science Fiction stories, to dismantle the mythical aura of the astronaut as an infallible demigod, and now Lucy in the Sky shows how reality has caught up to his fiction. Adapted very loosely from the true story of Lisa Nowak, this is a film telling us about a romantic triangle between three astronauts, although writer-director Noah Hawley considerably softens the details of the real-life story and unsuccessfully attempts to make its unbalanced protagonist likable. It’s all handled through some sort of mushy magical realism (or vague psychological drama), with visions of space intruding on the protagonist’s inner life as she struggles with recapturing the experience of spaceflight and begins a self-destructive affair with another astronaut. Hawley’s very impressionistic filmmaking even plays with aspect ratios to show the difference between Lucy’s fantasy life and her domestic one. Nathalie Portman is not bad as a southern A-type personality, while Jon Hamm and Zazie Beets are both striking as the other ends of that romantic triangle—plus two small but showy roles for Tig Notaro and Nick Offerman. Alas, the acting is one of the few highlights in a film that doesn’t even get close to fulfilling the potential of its inspiration. Lucy in the Sky deviates from reality by offering something that feels pointlessly small-scale, without some of the most interesting aspects of the original event. (No diapers here!) Worse is the attempt to create unearned sympathy for its protagonist. (Accordingly, the film was a near-legendary box-office bomb, not even earning a million dollars on a 24 million dollars budget.) Legend has it that Lucy in the Sky started as a black comedy for another director and lead actress, and we can only mourn that version of the film—it hardly could have been worse than what it ended up becoming. But at least Ballard’s saying, “I told you so!”

Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)

Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)

(On Cable TV, June 2019) I’m about three-quarter satisfied by Bad Times at the El Royale, which means that it’s worth a watch but also worth keeping expectations in check until the end. That’s admittedly difficult to do at the beginning of the movie, as writer-director Drew Goddard carefully sets up an irresistible situation with a motel carefully split down the middle of two states, and assembles a crew of characters with deep secrets. There’s a rising anticipation throughout the film’s first thirty minutes as we don’t quite know what’s going on or where it’s going—only that this is a very stylish crime thriller and that we’re in for quite a ride. The film gets better once the secrets start spilling out, with nearly every character not being what they initially appear to be, and some masterful sequences along the way: Goddard is guiding viewers to and away from genre expectations through his showy screenwriting and direction, and it’s that delicious self-awareness that propels much of the film’s first two acts. A conspicuous but enjoyable soundtrack does tie up everything in a great package. The cast is exceptional, in between known names such as Jon Hamm, Jeff Bridges, Dakota Johnson and Chris Hemsworth—but it’s lesser-known Cynthia Erivo who’s the revelation here. (Bizarrely, French-Canadian Wunderkind Xavier Dolan also appears in a small evil role.) Alas, all of this is a bit too good to stay true: the promise of the film ends up being better than its execution when its second half settles down for a far more familiar kind of thriller, losing speed and breaking the unity of space and time by adding new characters, new situations and new directions in a moment. Suddenly, the breakneck pacing of the film slows down to a crawl, and we’re left with a frustrating number of characters doing far less interesting things. It’s not a good idea to put the climactic scene in the middle of the film rather than at the end. Still, I really liked Bad Times at the El Royale despite its flaws—that first half is an intoxicating bit of filmmaking, and settling for a merely good second half isn’t quite enough to make the film not worth a look. At this point, I’ll watch nearly anything that Goddard does … but I do wish he’d be more consistent.

Beirut (2018)

Beirut (2018)

(On Cable TV, May 2019) Catch me on a bad day, and I will talk your ears off about how grown-up adult cinema has been evacuated from the multiplexes and shuffled off to art-house cinema, minor streaming releases and the corners of the cable channels. I’m not even talking about meditative character studies, here—I mean geopolitical thrillers such as Beirut, heavy in suspense and action but somehow a bit more complex than the save-the-world Manicheism of modern blockbuster films. Beirut doesn’t do anything outlandish—it simply takes us back to early-1980s Lebanon, near the peak of the unbelievable civil war that took it from a world-class city to loosely arranged rubble. In this complex environment, with half a dozen factions fighting each other under the watchful eye of two superpowers and the powder-keg environment of next-door neighbour Israel, comes a negotiator being asked to secure the release of an American hostage. There are several complications, not the least of them being that the protagonist knows both parties to the hostage exchange and is returning to the city ten years after tragic events involving him. Beirut has the heft of a good thriller, with a flawed world-weary protagonist unsure of who’s trying to help or kill him in an environment where there are no certitudes. Every year, you can read about a dozen similar novels … but you’ll be lucky to find even one movie with that kind of ambition. Of course, there’s Tony Gilroy writing the script, one of the few Hollywood screenwriters with the clout and chops to tackle such a project. Director Brad Anderson has an uneven filmography, but he handles the material well, backed with capable production design taking us credibly to 1982 Beirut. More crucially, he can also depend on a good script and decent actors: Jon Hamm is great as the bruised negotiator, Rosamund Pike is fine as his local liaison (she even gets to have some well-delivered French dialogue) and there’s Dean Norris with a hairpiece in a secondary role. The ending is suitably satisfying—with characters more or less getting what they wanted, but with the impending irony of the 1983 bombing just around the corner. The plot is a full order of magnitude more complex than the usual blockbuster, so it will take some sustained attention to follow. Beirut is the kind of film in my wheelhouse, the kind of film I wish I’d see more often. It’s not a slam-bang thriller, but it’s engrossing enough to be worth a look—especially if the modern blockbusters have let you down.

Tag (2018)

Tag (2018)

(On Cable TV, January 2019) As far as contemporary comedies go, Tag holds its own as an enjoyable entry in the genre. Starting with an off-beat premise inspired by real events (a group of guys playing a lifelong game of tag), it stocks its ensemble cast with known comic personas, features a script that exploits the nooks and crannies of the premise and wraps it all up in sequences that have more cinematic depth than most other comedies. As a comedy/action hybrid (naturally, with the “tag” hook), it features enough CGI and gags stolen from other action movies (including the Sherlockian slow-motion voice-over options analysis) to act as a semi-satire. The film does a credible job at rationalizing its unlikely premise, from how the game was created to the various rules that make it a bit more complex. To support that intent, it also features a coterie of observers (including a journalist played by Annabelle Wallis in a thankless role that is reduced to being the audience’s surrogate) to highlight how crazy the main characters can become in playing the game. The cast was clearly chosen for their established personas, whether we’re talking about Jon Hamm’s propensity for comedy, Isla Fisher’s energetic enthusiasm, Ed Helms as the goofy straight man, and Jeremy Renner to make use of his action-movie credentials in a more serious character than the other. The result is funny enough, although the third-act turn into drama is suspect in the way movies written according to screenwriting rules feel obliged to hit specific emotional turns. Tag is an enjoyable comedy, with set-pieces more ambitious than is the norm for many flatter comedies. The dialogue shows signs of having been written rather than improvised, which usually improves the results.

Baby Driver (2017)

Baby Driver (2017)

(On Cable TV, January 2018) The appeal of Edgar Wright’s role as a director is multifaceted (you can like his impeccable editing, highly structured scripting, hip pop-culture references or ability to get great comic performances from his actors), but he is without peers in his use of music as an essential counterpoint to the visual aspects of his movies. Nearly all of his films so far have included at least one sequence that perfectly blend sound and images, and he pushes that facet of his work to its limits in Baby Driver, a movie in which nearly the entire film seems built around its soundtrack. I mean it in the best way, as the opening sequence proves: Wright dares to synchronize an entire feature film around a selection of underexposed songs and the result is a frizzy delight. Sure, it’s all in the service of a criminal revenge story … but why use labels when the entire film is a tour de force? From beginning to end, Baby Driver is a choreography of sound and visuals as it takes us in the mind of its music-obsessed protagonist. A movie experience with few peers, Baby Driver is meant to be listened to as much as seen—while I’m a big fan of watching movies with the sound down as so not to disturb other members of my household, I made an exception for Baby Driver—and it deserves to be played at the appropriate volume. Ansel Elgort is fine in the lead performance, but the supporting actors are far more interesting, in-between what is likely to be Kevin Spacey’s last high-profile performance, Jon Hamm leaning on his comedy and action skills, Jamie Foxx as a dangerous sidekick and Lily James as the love interest. Much of the overall plot is familiar, but it’s the execution that truly shines—Baby Driver is filled with cool little moments, set pieces and the usual amount of Wright’s clever writing that becomes more apparent upon viewing the film a second time. It’s a lot of fun and it’s a particular treat for anyone who’s been following Wright’s career so far.

Black Mirror, Season 2 (2013)

Black Mirror, Season 2 (2013)

(Netflix Streaming, November 2017) Well, if you’re feeling too optimistic about your life, the world or what humans are capable of doing to each other with a little bit of technological help, have fun with this second season of Black Mirror (including the unusually bleak “White Christmas” special). If the first season left you with nightmares, this one won’t be any easier to stomach, with “White Bear” and “White Christmas,” in particular, being particularly able to give you fits of guilt at being part of the human species. “White Bear” talks about our capacity for righteous indignation and how rage can become an entertainment experience (hilariously enough, the credit sequence plays like a hideous making-of), while “White Christmas” simply points out how eager we are to enslave even ourselves. But I summarize too much: part of the pleasure of Black Mirror’s twisted effectiveness is finding out that what we think we see on-screen isn’t what’s really happening. Better production values and bigger names (such as Jon Hamm and Oona Chaplin in “White Christmas”) help make the show even better. Still, there’s more to Black Mirror than simple bleakness. Episodes such as “Be Right Back” show that series creator Charlie Brooker is also able to touch upon more complex emotions than simple revulsion. But then, of course, you have “The Waldo Moment” which, in its critique of cheap populism, rather depressingly anticipates that a buffoon could in fact be elected in a position of power. After the way the first season’s “The National Anthem” proved stomach-churningly prescient, maybe someone should keep tabs on what Charlie Brooker has in store for Black Mirror’s third season…

Keeping up with the Joneses (2016)

Keeping up with the Joneses (2016)

(On Cable TV, July 2017) I can be a surprisingly good audience for middle-of-the-road comedies, which may explain why I had a generally good time watching Keeping up with the Joneses even though it doesn’t really revolution anything. Much of it has to do with the movie giving good roles to three actors I like, and minimizing the irritation from an actor that I generally find annoying. Beginning not too far away from The ’burbs, this film begins as a comfortably married couple having shipped their kids to summer camp reacts to the arrival of a sexy new couple in their cul-de-sac: As hints of improper behavior pile up, the wife becomes convinced that the new neighbours are spies, while the husband excuses away the incidents and tries to make friends with the new guy. Complications piles up, leading to a second half that’s far more action-heavy than the comedic first half. Much of it feels familiar, to the point of missing comic opportunities by lack of daring. But who cares about originality when you’ve got Jon Hamm, Gal Gadot and Isla Fisher co-starring? All three of them get a chance to show their comic skills, with Gadot and Hamm in particular getting a further opportunity to play action heroes along the way. Gadot in particular gets a role that balances toughness, seduction and comedy—it’s not a great movie, but it’s the kind of film that encapsulates her range at this point. Meanwhile, Zach Galifianakis, often unbearably annoying in his usual screen persona, is here reined in and almost tolerable as a mild-mannered HR officer targeted for counterintelligence operations. (He’s far more sympathetic than in his almost-contemporary Masterminds, for instance.) It makes up for a likable quartet of comedians, and Keeping Up with the Joneses coasts a long time on their inherent likability … and having Gadot and Fisher both show up in decent lingerie. Otherwise, the action scenes are generic, elements of the conclusion are arbitrary and the epilogue is a disappointment. Still, it’s a relatively entertaining film, somewhat unobjectionable and yet likable in its own way. I’ve seen far worse this week alone, starting with the aforementioned Masterminds.

The Town (2010)

The Town (2010)

(In theatres, September 2010) Who would have thought that barely seven years after the nadir of Gigli, Ben Affleck would re-emerge as a significant director of Boston-based crime dramas?  Strange but true: After wowing reviewers with Gone Baby Gone, Affleck is back with another Boston thriller in The Town, this time taking a look at a gang of professional bank robbers as one of them begins a relationship with an ex-hostage of theirs.  Deceptions accumulate alongside complications as the gang keeps planning heists, the FBI is tracking them closely and the lead character wants out of his own life.  It’s the complex mixture of crime, action, romance and drama that makes The Town work, along with a clean direction, a good sense of place and a few capable actors.  Jeremy Renner is once again remarkable as a hot-headed criminal, whereas Jon Hamm gets more than his fair share of good lines as a dogged FBI agent.  The script feels refreshingly adult, full of difficult entanglements, capable performances and textured moral problems.  The adaptation from Chuck Hogan’s novel is decent, although most readers will be amused to note that a movie theatre heist has been replaced by something else entirely.  More significant, however, is the flattening of the FBI agent character and the far more optimistic conclusion of the film –in the end, the movie feels more superficial in general but also more satisfying in its closure.  The Town isn’t flashy, though, and this may be what separates it from a longer-lasting legacy.  No matter, though: it’s a good a satisfying film, and one that confirms what Affleck is now capable of accomplishing.