Rosie Perez

  • Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn (2020)

    Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn (2020)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, August 2020) One of the reasons why I own a surprisingly large number of Batman graphic novels is the vast cast of supporting characters in his orbit. Not only villains, but allies as well – many of which can sustain stories by themselves, and that includes Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey, which, curiously enough, have been mashed together in this very stylistically different spinoff, Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn. As the story goes, Margot Robbie enjoyed playing Quinn so much in Suicide Squad that she pushed for a film of her own, and brought in the Birds of Prey to reinforce the film’s female empowerment themes. Far closer to Deadpool than anything else in the DC repertoire, this Birds of Prey is, from the title onward, designed as a garish neon piece of fourth-wall-breaking comedy. The rhythm certainly roars forward: Director Cathy Yan moves things with breakneck speed (especially in the first half-hour of the film, which jumps all around its chronology thanks to Quinn’s scattered narration) and the numerous action scenes have a good distinctive kick to them all. (I see that John Wick’s Chad Stahelski helped with some sequences, which makes complete sense.) The action is cleanly shot in full frame, with some impressive stunt work and (I’m guessing) copious use of CGI to stitch it all together. Acting-wise, both Margot Quinn and Ewan MacGregor are up to their usual selves, while it’s good to see Rosie Perez with another big role, Mary Elizabeth Winstead makes an impression despite a late arrival, and Jurnee Smollett is a bit of a revelation as Black Canary. I had a decent amount of fun throughout, which is more than I can say about most of the recent DC universe movies. But there’s a limit to how much I can like Birds of Prey when it starts labelling the actions of a murderous anarchic woman-child criminal as female empowerment. Much of Birds of Prey cribs from the now-cliché list of grrl power tropes, from queer sexual identities, punk rock aesthetics, sociopathic behaviour and systematic portrayal of male characters as terrible. (I only counted two likable male characters – one makes unhygienic sandwiches, while the other is a member of a crime family who saves the heiress of another crime family.) A gender-flipped Harley Quinn would be pilloried, and while I can understand while we’re giving a pass to this one, I’m not all that happy about the direction that this is taking. I agree that superhero films are too male-centric and that they’re too dour, but I also think that they’re also becoming far too sadistic for their own good, and I have considerable issues with the post-Arkham Asylum sexed-up direction taken by the Harley Quinn character. While I enjoyed Birds of Prey: And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn almost as much as what I was expecting from its whimsical title, it does have its quirks to hold it back.

  • The Dead Don’t Die (2019)

    The Dead Don’t Die (2019)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, March 2020) As far as I can remember, writer-director Jim Jarmusch has never made a conventional film, and it’s not because he gets to do a zombie movie that he’s going to change his ways. Set in a small town with characters played by a large ensemble cast of known names, The Dead Don’t Die is as proudly atypical as the rest of Jarmusch’s filmography, with odd plot beats, utterly deadpan dialogue, bewildered characters, bizarre gags, nonsensical worldbuilding and increasingly frequent fourth-wall breaking. (So much so, in fact, that I was able to call out the character saying, “because I read the script!” Other choice quotes include “Are we going improv?” and “This is the theme song.”) With an ensemble cast that begins with Bill Murray, Adam Driver and Chloe Sevigny as police officers, it would be hard to single out one specific performance—at least if it wasn’t for Tilda Swinton, who consistently steals scenes as a mortician-turned bladed executioner named Zelda Winston. Whatta Tilda! (She’s not the only one with an actor-related name, as Rosie Perez plays a news anchor called “Posie Juarez”) It’s all quite amusing, but the comedy may be more relative than anything else: we don’t usually expect Jarmusch to go this zany. But as amusing as it can be in moments, The Dead Don’t Die is not all that finely controlled as a comedy. The comic pacing is uneven, the ending sort of quits without a strong or satisfying climax and it’s not too clear how much improvisation took place. Still—and I’m grading on an unfair curve, here—this is probably my favourite Jarmusch film so far.

  • It Could Happen to You (1994)

    It Could Happen to You (1994)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On TV, March 2020) What’s most striking about It Could Happen to You—besides its famous policeman-gives-millions-dollar-tip-to-waitress premise—is how much it feels like an urban fairytale: the protagonists are tried and rewarded for their inner virtue, with vast amounts of money-making wishes coming true. In this context, even having a narrator (whose origin turns out to be rather mundane) adds another layer of “let me tell you a story” to director Andrew Bergman’s film. Nicolas Cage and Bridget Fonda make for a likable lead couple, with Rosie Perez being as beautiful as ever but playing an unusually evil character for a change. It all comes together rather well, with New York City providing the background to it all. While no cinematic achievement, It Could Happen to You remains a nice and cute romantic comedy and arguably great counterprogramming to meaner fare. One thing, though: If you really want to enjoy the film, try to watch it in the original English rather than the French-Canadian dub, since Cage’s voice is dubbed in a much lower, far less distinctively nasal voice, and I missed it.

  • Fearless (1993)

    Fearless (1993)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (In French, On Cable TV, November 2019) There is something interesting about movies that dare navigate the fine line that separates realism from the extraordinary. Fearless is one of those movies that skirt the edge of a realistic drama by focusing on the survivor of a plane crash who develops some unusual psychological disorders, helped along by ambiguously fantastic events. Played by Jeff Bridges in one of his best roles, our protagonist overcompensates for his survivor’s guilt by becoming convinced that he is already dead, eating allergenic food without consequences and even crashing his car to make a point. His detachment from reality becomes spectacular at times, such as walking away from the crash scene without notifying anyone. His mental health issues are aggravated by the aftermath of the crash—the FBI investigation, the media attention, the legal proceedings, the guilt shared by fellow survivors. Directed by Peter Weir, who has often handled such tricky material, Fearless is an effective character study of someone ordinary in exceptional circumstances. A clever script heavily (but cleverly) relies on flashbacks to show us the before-and-after circumstances of the protagonist. With such skillful touches, Fearless is far more entertaining than expected for such weighty subject matter—and with such interesting actors as Rosie Perez (deservedly nominated for an Oscar), Isabella Rossellini, Benicio del Toro and John Turturro along for the ride, it’s also not a bad choice for anyone looking at the state of mainstream drama movies from the mid-1990s. Even if, at times, Fearless does push much realism as far as it can go.

  • White Men Can’t Jump (1992)

    White Men Can’t Jump (1992)

    ByChristian Sauvé Movie Review

    (On Cable TV, July 2019) Hustling and basketball—it doesn’t take much than that to get a strong premise for a sports comedy. But what sets White Men Can’t Jump above similar movies is the addition of capable actors such as Woody Harrelson and Wesley Snipes, both at the top of their physical condition, as well as Rosie Perez in one of her best roles. Venice Beach as seen from the bottom rung is interesting, but not as much as the characters trying to hustle their way out of there. Writer-director Ron Shelton has an uncanny grasp of dialogue, athletic ego and not-so-friendly competition—White Men Can’t Jump is never as good as when it’s following our two protagonists on the basketball court, inventively trash-talking their way through their own hustles. The basketball sequences are thankfully convincing. Rosie Perez is also a joy as a motor-mouthed bookworm whose wildest dreams come true through sheer determination. I’m not so happy about the ending of the film (in which a serious conversation could have prevented its bittersweet conclusion) but much of White Men Can’t Jump is still quite a bit of fun to watch.