Forget the Cowboys. In 1985, the Chicago Bears were “America’s Team.” They still
are, if you remember the 1980s nostalgically (and who doesn’t?). Their music video
was a major reason why. They didn’t just dominate on the gridiron. They also
had fun off the field. At least that was how it looked to fans. Yet, many of the
Bears had great misgivings about their participation in the fondly remembered
rap single and accompanying music video, “The Super Bowl Shuffle.” Several of
the former Super Bowl champions remember the production and subsequent craze
for their theme song in Jeff Cameron’s short documentary The Shuffle, which
premieres tomorrow on HBO.
1985 looked
like it would be the Bears year, especially to their hungry fans in Chicago.
Observing the national attention many players were generating, especially the
larger-than-life William “The Refrigerator” Perry, Chicago-based record label
entrepreneur Richard E. “Dick” Meyer hatched an idea to recruit the team for a
novelty rap song that would benefit the Chicago Community Trust. He even had an
“in” with wide receiver Willie Gault, who sang back-up vocals on a track for
one of his R&B artists.
Gault
recruited most of the team, starting with the leaders, Pro Bowl running back Walter
Payton and linebacker Mike Singletary. With them on-board, the rest of the team
fell in line. However, they were scheduled to record the video on the Tuesday
morning following their first loss of the season. Suddenly, singing about the
Super Bowl felt awfully jinxy to many of the players.
Although
just shy of 40 minutes, The Shuffle is a wildly fun trip down memory
lane. Yet, it also offers some insight into how the Bears became such a unified
team. As Singletary explains, the shoot offered an opportunity for the team to
bond outside of a football context. It was also presented a chance for the more
rhythmically talented back-ups to teach the starters a thing or two.
SISU: ROAD TO REVENGE keeps cleverly inventing new ways for its hardnosed Finnish
hero to blow-up, immolate, decapitate, crush, and aerate Communist bad guys. The
super-charged energy is infectious, but the film always clearly maintains an
awareness of the historical tragedies of the Winter Wars and post-War Stalinist
oppression. That is quite a balancing act, but it pulls it off. CINEMA DAILY US
review up here.
ALEX VS. AROD probably will not win over the slugger’s fiercest critics.
However, it humanizes the controversial athlete to a considerable degree for those
who keep a reasonably open mind. Whether they love him or hate him, viewers will
never be bored by the deep dive into his tumultuous career. EPOCH TIMES review
up here.
After the revolution, Iranian women couldn’t leave the house with their heads
uncovered. Freedom of religion disappeared. Even dog owners had to keep their
beloved pets secretly hidden. Yet, too many pseudo-intellectuals maintain a
see-no-evil policy towards Iran. Okay, try this one on for size hipsters. The
Revolutionary government made film ownership illegal. The prohibition even
included home movies. Ehsan Khoshbakht knew it only too well. He managed an
underground student screening society and befriended the owner of the largest
private film collections in Iran at the time. Khoshbakht explains why he and
Ahmad Jorghahnian risked arrest and possibly far worse for the sake of film in
his autobiographical documentary Celluloid Underground, which premieres
today on OVID.tv.
Frankly,
Khoshbakht never really thought of himself as a rebel, until an audience member
at a screening accused him of anti-social behavior. It was a chilling moment,
inspiring greater caution going forward. Yet, he couldn’t help wondering about
of Jorghahnian’s rumored archive. By the time they met, the collector was even
warier, but eventually he started loaning prints for Khoshbakht’s screenings.
The gentle humor is pleasant, but the humanist themes offriendship and family arewhat viewers will really embrace in RENTAL FAMILY. The bittersweet material also well suits the cast, including "Sad American" Brandan Fraser. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
If you were an acholic goblin, you’d probably cuss a lot too. Swearing is big for the
Critical Role franchise, almost as important as the epic fantasy elements. Arguably,
they maybe overdid the former and somewhat neglected the latter with their
first animated series, The Legend of Vox Machina. Their second
stand-alone series returns to the land of Exandria, but the tonal mix is better
in the 8-episode first season of showrunner Tasha Huo’s The Mighty Nein,
which premieres today on Prime Video.
War was
already brewing between the Kryn Dynasty of Xhorhas and the Dwendalian Empire, but
it fully erupts when thieves steal “The Beacon,” a precious relic that holds
the Xhorhas’s eternal souls. It is rather murky as to just who was behind the
theft, but the Beacon soon falls into the hands of Trent Ikithon, the Machiavellian
leader of the Empire’s Archmages. However, he has a secret accomplice from
Xhorhas, whose motives are much more emotional.
Warrior-monastic
Beauregard Lionnett is supposed to investigate the strange events surrounding
the theft for Cobalt Soul, her scholarly order with decidedly Shaolin
tendencies. However, she discovers her superior has been compromised by Ikithon’s
Volstrucker warrior-wizards, who nearly kill her. Saved by the high-ranking
Expositor, Lionetti is quietly reassigned to investigate corruption within Cobalt
Soul and amongst the Kryn court.
Whether
she likes it or not—and she most definitely does not like it—Lionett teams up
with a motley band of fellow adventurers. She immediately clashes with Caleb
Widogast, a formerly down-and-out, but still stinky wizard. However, Widogast
is closely aligned with Nott the brave, a foul-mouthed drunkard goblin thief,
who sees herself as his protector.
Weirdly, tiefling (a slightly devilish-looking race of D&D characters)
healer Jester Lavorre feels similarly towards Fjord Stone, a half-orc sailor tormented
by his captain’s death and the sudden source of his mysterious new powers. Frankly,
they are all eccentric and annoying in their own ways, but tiefling fortune-teller
Mollymauk Tealeaf might irritate his new companions the least. They bicker and
fight amongst themselves, but, somehow, they come together as a team to pull
off a series of fantastical capers.
Too
often, the Vox Machina writers hoped the frequent use of the “F”
word by traditional-looking fantasy characters would be sufficiently funny to
keep viewers entertained. However, the first shared-world series often came
across as too hip and too ironic for its own good. Nott drops plenty of
F-bombs, but the fantasy premise is much more intriguing. Arguably, this time
around, the use of profanity for comic effect feels much more earned.
There
are also wizards all over the place, which is something the first six episodes
of Vox Machina lacked. In fact, the characterization in general is much
stronger. The relationship dynamics shared by both Widogast and Nott, as well
as Lavorre and Strong, provide an intriguing foundation and payoff throughout
the season. There is still plenty of kvetching, but it lands better.
This film would be awesome to see converted to “4D” for the Las Vegas Sphere. It
would probably also be horrifying. Anime master Mamoru Oshii and artist
Yoshitaka Amano created a stunning nightmare-landscape that remains as
jaw-dropping as the skeletal narrative is head-scratching. Still an anime
feature with few comparisons, Oshii’s Angel’s Egg, produced by the Studio
Deen animation house, re-releases theatrically tomorrow in a spiffy new 4K restoration, courtesy of GKIDS.
It
would be an oversimplification to call this world post-apocalyptic. It is more
like T.S. Eliot’s Wasteland, by way of Edward Gorey. The architecture recalls
Old World Europe, while the destruction is almost Biblical. In fact, maybe it
was, because the Flood and the Arc will be recurring motifs.
Within
this surreal environment, a young girl compulsively guards an egg that she fervently
believes will hatch an angel. However, the young martial-looking man who
regularly crosses her path expresses skepticism. Yet, he also exhibits
protective impulses towards the girl. Nevertheless, he gives off serious fallen
angel vibes, possibly thanks to his twisted-cross rifle.
Over
the years, Angel’s Egg has been one of the films that shocks non-fans
out of their preconceived notions regarding anime. In terms of visual style, it
shares a kinship with Eiichi Yamamoto’s Belladonna of Sadness, but the
vibe and pacing are not unlike The Seventh Sign.
You can't miss the spectacular martial arts action in Netflix's LAST SAMURAI STANDING, but it also delivers clever historical intrigue and contempporary-feeling "deep state" paranoia, in a Meiji Restroation setting. CINMMA DAILY US review up here.
Iran has neither the equivalent of Emily’s List or the Susan B. Anthony List.
Women candidates are not merely rare. They are unheard of. That meant Sara
Shahverdi’s election to her local council was a really big deal. However, if
you think that was the end of the story, then you must be dangerously naïve.
Sara Khaki & Mohammadreza Eyni document Shahverdi’s campaign and the
campaign after the campaign in Cutting Through Rocks, which opens this
Friday in New York.
Shahverdi
is tough, because her beloved father deliberately raised her to be a tomboy.
Nevertheless, she obediently married—and then rebelliously divorced. That was a
scandal, but she still earned much of her village’s trust as a notary, who
regularly helped her customers navigate red tape. Thanks to her clients, many
of whom were women voting for the first time, Shaverdi was elected, along with
her younger brother.
She was
true to her promises, spearheading a major project connecting the village
houses to the natural gas grid. However, to qualify for the program,
home-owners needed to present a legal title. Most households lacked such
paperwork. Shahverdi could help in this respect, but only if the men granted
their wives partial ownership.
This
ignited a war of a ferocity that caught Shahverdi by surprise. To make matters
worse, her own brother did not necessarily have her back. Shockingly, Shahverdi
finds herself defending her identity as a woman, facing an involuntary re-assignment,
pending review by state doctors.
Cutting
Through Rocks is
the kind of film that completely undermines a lot of “progressive” illusions regarding
the Islamist world. If believe you can declare your own gender, don’t travel to
Iran, because the regime considers that their job. Likewise, Shaverdi’s
struggle to advance women’s rights takes one step forward and then one step
backward. She successfully arranges ownership stakes for many vulnerable older
women, but her efforts to discourage arranged child marriages literally ends in
tears.
Arguably, no publishing imprint more successfully branded itself than Harlequin. Their
romances are literally written according to a formula, so fans know exactly
what they are going to get. Despite this standardized approach to plotting,
some of the biggest romance authors got their start writing for the publishing
house. Seeing all those sales, networks have periodically commissioned TV-movie adaptations of Harlequin romances (that are quickly forgotten). CW is
the latest. However, their first production sort of counts as a real movie,
since it had special Fathom Events screenings this Summer. Regardless, it is a
sure bet the veterinarian wearing the cowboy hat will get the girl in Annie
Bradley’s Montana Mavericks, which premieres tonight on CW.
Technically,
is not based on a single novel. It is “inspired” by the Western-themed “Montana
Mavericks” line. Of course, it is very much like a typical Hallmark original movie,
in which a city slicker finds true love with a paragon of country virtue. In
this case, the city slicker is Heather, a Candace Bushnell-like author, who had
a bestseller writing amusing anecdotes about her big city life.
Unfortunately,
she is blocked on her second book, with her deadline looming. At this point,
she would do anything to avoid the blank page, so she and her two negroni-chugging
pals head off to the Montana ranch she just inherited from her estranged mother.
Considering
these films carry the Harlequin imprimatur, you would expect them to be smarter
about the publishing industry. The truth is authors miss deadlines all the
time. It is annoying for editors, but it is just a fact of life. It is much
rarer (but not unheard of) for publishers to take legal steps to reclaim
advances on undelivered manuscripts, so Heather need not feel such stress. On the other hand, she would have sold her
book with a detailed proposal, rather than figuring out what it would be about
after her editor bought it.
Not
that the target market cares. Presumably, they just want to see Heather fall
into the arms of her new next-door neighbor, Cliff Beatty, which she does,
often. There is also a lot more humor in Montana Mavericks than the
average Harlequin novel, much of it involving Beatty’s patient, a renegade pig.
The pig is fine, but Jess’s bantering attempts to hit on bartender Olivia are
painful to hear.
Nobody would confuse Tatsumi for Leon the Professional. Despite his
underworld ties, he usually only handles bodies after they have been murdered.
As a corpse cleaner, it is his dirty job to render the whacked unidentifiable. Yet,
for reasons even he cannot explain, he tries to prevent a difficult young woman
from becoming his next gig in director-screenwriter Hiroshi Shoji’s Tatsumi,
which just released on VOD.
Ostensibly
a fisherman, Tatsumi works for two local Yakuza factions, covering up their
lethal dirty work. They constantly pressure him fully commit to the “family,”
but that probably isn’t the best rhetoric to convince him, since we see in
flashbacks how he kicked his self-destructive hoodlum brother to the curb, for the sake of his own self-preservation.
Considering Tatsumi’s cynicism and world-wariness, no one would expect him to stick
his neck out for an obnoxious troublemaking Gen-Z’er like Aoi, but he will anyway.
Apparently,
a shipment of drugs was misappropriated and the trail runs through the garage run
by mobbed-up Yamaoka and his wife, Kyoko, who happens to be Tatsumi’s ex.
However, it soon becomes clear Kyoko’s little sister Aoi is also highly
compromised. Nevertheless, Tatsumi reluctantly takes steps to protect her from the
deranged Ryuji Sawamura and his scumbag brother Takeshi, who have unleashed a
scorched earth campaign against anyone and everyone they might suspect.
This
film is so gritty, you should brush your teeth after watching it. Tatsumi definitely
puts the “anti” in antihero. His job is literally to mutilate corpses. Yet, there
is a profoundly moral aspect to Shoji’s screenplay. Apparently, there are some lines
the title character just won’t cross.
Regardless,
Tatsumi still functions as a brutally potent gangster thriller. It is the
kind of film wherein things constantly go from bad to worse. Yet, there is also
something almost poetic in its extreme grunginess. Seriously, why would you want
to be a gangster if it meant living in this environment?
VIRGIN PUNK: CLOCKWORK GIRL, a totally original new anime franchise,
launched with a 35-minute “film” or “episode,” supplemented with special
behind-the-scenes footage for Fathom Events. The “extras” were just okay, but
the action and animation are impressive. Yet, the dysfunctional central relationship
between protagonist and antagonist really sets it apart. CINEMA DAILY US review
up here.
A lot of stunt performers and fight choreographers did good work in PLAYDATE, but it also comes with a lot of dumb physical comedy. Still, the positiv portrayal of step-fatherhood is refreshing. EPOCH TIMES review up here.
This film tries to be for fentanyl what Scarface was for cocaine and New
Jack City was for crack. It might not capture a comparable cult following,
but nobody can accuse it of glamorizing the trade or abuse of narcotics.
Fentanyl corrupts and kills, but not just in big bad New York or Miami.
Oklahoma becomes the site of a deadly turf battle throughout
director-screenwriter John Swab’s King Ivory, which opens this Friday in
theaters.
Thanks to
the economics of fentanyl manufacture, numerous mini-cartels have driven most
of the large traditional cartels out of business. Only two of the two traditional
giants remain in business, largely due to their superior ruthlessness. One of
those notorious behemoths intends to move into the Oklahoma market, but that
territory has always been controlled an indigenous criminal organization IBH.
Holt
Lightfeather remains their leader, even though he is serving a life sentence
for murder. It is there that he recruits George “Smiley” Greene to be his new
fix-it man. Greene did not apply for the position, nor can he decline the
appointment, At least he gets an early release to launch countermeasures against
the cartels encroaching from Mexico and California.
Oklahoma
drug cop Layne West is also focused on the Mexican cartel, especially Ramon
Garza, whom he tied to a deadly human trafficking operation that negligently killed
dozens of illegal migrants. Despite such horrors, West’s own drug-addicted son
Jack helps to underwrite the cartels’ violence with his compulsive usage.
Frankly, West and his wife Tess know they are losing him, but they are unable
to breakthrough his Gen-Z petulance. Even West’s partner, Ty Grady, whom Jack
regards as a beloved uncle-figure, cannot reach him.
Fentanyl
is having a cinematic moment with two films addressing it illicit trade hitting
theaters this week (the other being Muzzle: City of Wolves). Even though Swab ignores the CCP
regime’s complicity in the international fentanyl supply chain, King Ivory (referring
to the drug’s street name) rings with authenticity. It is not set in Oklahoma
by accident. The state aptly represents the kind of working-class “red state”
communities that have been devastated by opiates. It also happens to be the
site of some uniquely Balkanesque turf
battles, which Swab and company explore in fascinating detail.
Even
though Swab never aspires for a docu-drama tone, King Ivory often feels uncomfortably
real. It is the sort of film that grabs you by the lapels and slaps you across
he chops. Admittedly, that does not sound like a lot of fun, but it certainly
is eye-opening.
King
Ivory also boasts
at least a half dozen shockingly good performances. Notably, the late great
Graham Greene is frighteningly intense as the ruthless Lightfeather. Instead of
the middling Icefall, King Ivory should be considered his final film,
because it serves as a brilliant capstone to a culturally significant career.
Likewise,
Ben Foster equals his most idiosyncratic career highlights with his portrayal of
emphysemic Greene, who somehow credibly strangles prison inmates, while wheezing
through his tracheal hole. Foster’s quiet brooding is perfectly complimented by
Ritchie Coster’s loudmouth bluster as Greene’s uncle and mentor in the Irish mob,
Mickey Greene.
Most movie patrons wouldn’t care much if Jake Rosser dies, but if anything
happens to his partner, there will be a riot in the theater. Rosser retired
from the force, but he still trains police dogs like Argos. It will be good to
have Argos around when a cartel comes looking for revenge in John Stalberg Jr.’s
Muzzle: City of Wolves, which opens Friday in theaters.
Rosser
went a little rogue at the end of the first film, but it seemed like he got
away cleanly. Apparently not. In addition to some serious cartel enemies and an
internal affairs investigator snooping around, Rosser has some serious post-traumatic
stress. He had tried to maintain a normal family life, but the home invasion
that culminates in an explosion greatly strains his marriage to Mia. Rather
ominously, the assailant was a Mexican investigative journalist who tried to
expose the cartel. Instead, they captured and tortured his family.
Before
long, the cartel tries to extort Rosser in a similar way. Exploiting his not-so-secret
PTSD, the shadowy cult-leader drug lord tries to frame him as a racist cop
pushed over the edge. A real corrupt cop will do all the dirty work. Again,
Rosser will be lucky to have Argos riding shotgun.
The
first Muzzle was a solid B-movie procedural, elevated by its sensitive
portrayal of the handler-K9 bond. Like the original, City of Wolves explicitly
calls out China’s complicity with the illegal fentanyl trade. However, that is about
as far as it goes. The first film was unabashedly hardboiled, but the new sequel
is somehow even darker. Yet, it is not such a smooth ride, due to some rather
choppy editing.
There were more American casualties during the Meuse-Argonne than in any other
battle, in any other war. Yet, most Americans rarely think about WWI, despite
its drastic geopolitical consequences. “The Great War” also inspired celebrated
literature and enduring songs, all of which historian John Monsky incorporated
into the remarkable concert presentation American Heart in WWI: A Carnegie
Hall Tribute, which premieres tonight on PBS.
Encompassing
multimedia, staged readings, and a full symphony orchestra, Monsky and five
Broadway performers present WWI through the eyes of three soldiers and two
women who mourned them. James Reese Europe was a self-made Harlem bandleader,
whose Harlem Hellfighters developed a fierce reputation fighting alongside the
French, because their white countrymen did not want them. In contrast, Quentin
Roosvelt led a privileged life as TR’s son. Monsky frequently compares New York
lawyer Charles Whittlesey to Fitzgerald’s Jay Gatsby, who becomes a recurring
motif of the staged concert (even though Fitzgerald never saw any direct
action).
Vera
Brittain chronicled her service as a military nurse in her bestselling memoir Testament of Youth, as well as her grief for her lover, brother, and friends. Likewise,
Flora Payne Whitney also hailed from an elite family, but her romance with
Roosevelt would be tragically cut short.
There
is a good deal of syncopation in the Carnegie Hall concert thanks to Europe. Arguably,
he was the biggest bandleader of the late 1910s, who could have been even more significant
than Ellington had he lived longer. It is nice to see him get his due in Carnegie
Hall, where he played historic concerts with his own orchestra, particularly
since his surviving family were there to witness the moment.
In
addition to Europe, there is music from many of the Great American Songbook
composers, like Jerome Kern, whose “No, We’ll Never Tell” is poignantly
expressive of Monsky’s themes. Many of the arrangements are surprisingly sensitive
and inventive especially George M. Cohan’s typically martial-sounding “Over There,”
which is elegiacally transformed.
Fittingly,
there are several selections by Irving Berlin, including tunes he wrote for a revue
staged at Camp Upton. There is also a stirring rendition of a tune he cut from the
show, but eventually premiered during WWII: “God Bless America.”
Throughout
the staging, Monsky skillfully brings his themes full circle. His text
undeniably celebrates veterans and America. He also addresses his own family
connections in ways that convey the War’s lingering influence rather than shoehorning
himself into the narrative.
Carl Laemmle was the only old school Hollywood mogul who denounced Hitler and the
National Socialists prior to WWII. Fittingly, most of his Universal Monsters
hailed from Old World Europe. The Mummy was the exception in 1932. His
origins were in the Middle East. Again, that was fitting. Originally intended
to be a film about Alessandro Cagliostro, it morphed into tale of intrigue from
the ancient Egyptian past, inspired by the discovery (and curse) of Tut’s tomb.
Half-English and half-Egyptian Helen Grosvenor was a woman caught between worlds,
but that makes her more vulnerable to uncanny peril in writer-artist Faith Erin
Hicks’ Universal Monsters: The Mummy, Image Comics latest retelling of
the classic horror films, which releases today in a bind-up edition.
Like Universal Monsters: Frankenstein, Hicks shows readers the events of the film from a
different perspective. This time around, we see much more through Grosvenor’s
eyes. In fact, we are fully immersed in her head, where the High Priestess Anck-es-en-Amon
has been cohabitating all Grosvenor’s life. She always considered the voice in
her head a friend. However, when Imhotep reawakens Anck-es-en-Amon’s passion, she
belatedly recognizes the high priestess is a threat to her own bodily autonomy.
Ironically,
Hicks’ retelling allows much less time for Imhotep and even less for his
titular Mummy appearance. However, it adds a sinister dimension of
psychological terror. Yet, it also makes Anck-es-en-Amon a less sympathetic
figure, so terms like “feminist revisionism” really do not apply (and nobody is
complaining about that).
Most DC fans think of the “Bat Family” as Batman, the other Bat heroes, like Batgirl,
and the current and former Robins, including Nightwing and the Red Hood.
However, this Bat-Fam consists of more literal family ties that make for a much
stranger family unit. Even the ghost of super-villain Ra’s Al Ghul now inhabits
stately Wayne Manor, watching over his bratty grandson, Damian Wayne, a.k.a. “Little
Batman.” Set in the world of Merry Little Batman, this Batman makes the
Westverse look like Matt Reeves’ The Batman. The Dark Knight isn’t so dark
anymore, but parenthood often makes him much more stressed out in showrunner
Mike Roth’s ten-episode animated series Bat-Fam, which premieres today
on Prime Video.
In many
of the comic storylines, Damian is indeed the son of Bruce Wayne and reformed
super-villainess Talia al-Ghul. In Bat-Fam, Batman gave the ghost of his
old nemesis Ra’s permission to haunt Wayne Manor, for reasons that now escape
him. Perhaps even more bizarre to longtime comic readers, former super-villain
turned anti-hero Dr. Kirk Langstrom, a.k.a. Man-Bat, also crashes with the
Waynes, basically living the life of Reilly. As the series opens, yet another “family-member”
is about to move in.
Alicia
Pennyworth, Alfred’s niece and Wayne’s childhood friend, has returned to
Gotham. The Waynes are delighted to have her company, but they are leery of her
new gig as the chief social worker for E*vil, a halfway house for reformed
supervillains. Indeed, Little Batman’s skepticism will get him into some big
trouble.
To make
matters even more complicated, Wayne is still struggling with his foster-father
arrangement with Claire Seiton. She was once the super-villainess Volcana, but
when her associates betrayed her, Batman could only save her by immersing her
in the Lazarus Pits. Awkwardly, she came out rejuvenated as a moody goth
12-year-old, with only fragmentary memories of her life of crime. Instead of
dropping her off at Gotham Academy like Olive Silverstock in the comics named for
her elite boarding school, Bruce Wayne takes Seiton in as his newest ward. He
likes having his wards, doesn’t he?
Regardless,
Bat-Fam is goofy even by the standards of the 1966 TV series. Obviously,
there is precedent for this approach, but Bat-Fam often feels more like
an animated sitcom than a proper DC series. Arguably, it is a little too
chaotic and too prone to kvetching. Yet, some of the better episodes focus on
the relationship between Damian and Claire, who really come to think of
themselves as siblings. On the other hand, Alicia Pennyworth’s woke restorative
justice lectures quickly grow nauseating.
In
contrast, Langstrom/Man-Bat is often rather amusing as the source of random
out-of-left-field humor. However, this incarnation of Ra’s al-Ghul looks and
sounds more like a Bela Lugosi-inspired vampire than the mystically-empowered near-immortal
super-villain of the comics and films.
“I think we left too soon.” That is not a so-called “neocon” from the Bush administration
speaking. It was current Democrat congressman and Iraq War veteran Seth Mouton
discussing the decision to pull out of Najaf. As he and many of his fellow veterans
remember the battle, they were on the verge of scoring a decisive victory over
the Mahdi Militia, when the politicians agreed to a cease-fire. Unfortunately, political
considerations overruling battlefield realities are a recurring theme in
Michael Pack’s documentary The Last 600 Meters: The Battles of Najaf and
Fallujah, which premieres this Monday on PBS.
Although
it premieres tomorrow, Pack’s film consists of interviews that were recorded in
2007, while memories were still fresh (and the participates were clearly inclined
towards candor). Fallujah and Najaf ae still considered the American military’s
largest battles since the Vietnam War, but there is little understanding of
what actually happened, making Pack’s film quite valuable and even necessary
viewing.
Time
and again, the Marines and Army were forced to pull back just right when they
were on the brink of a dealing a crippling blow to the Daesh-adjacent
insurgents. In the case of the First Battle of Fallujah, this was particularly galling
to the interviewed veterans, because the battle was initially ignited by the humiliating
Black Hawk Down-inspired display of the bodies of three murdered American
contractors.
However, there were some lessons learned. For weeks, Al-Jazeera broadcast
propaganda claiming American forces were intentionally damaging the Fallujah
hospital, inflaming the local population against coalition forces (sounds
familiar, right?). Consequently, securing the hospital became the first
objective of the final big push into Fallujah to silence the disinformation.
In a
way, the American military applied those lessons in Najaf when Muqtada al-Sadr
occupied the sacred Imam Ali Shrine. Rules of engagement were devised that
prevented damage to the mosque, yet still ultimately “squeezed out” the insurgents.
At least it seemed to be working until DC agreed to another frustrating cease
fire.
Clearly,
there are a lot of lessons learned about house-to-house fighting. Again, the Army
and Marines developed largely successful techniques that pushed insurgents from
densely populated areas to more open industrial districts. Hopefully, these
battles will remain in the services’ institutional memories and find a way into
the academies’ curriculum.
You have to root for the Army rugby team, especially in the stirring documentaary BROTHERS ON THREE. They were called to serve (reaching General rank at a rate over 300% that of their fellow cadets), so viewers should feel called to cheer. EPOCH TIMES review up here.
La Belle Epoque ended with WWI, but the attitudes of Paris’s proper society have not
changed. That meant Amedeo Modigliani had three strikes against him. He was a
Bohemian Jew from Italy. He was also a genius, but he couldn’t sell a painting
to a “real” collector. His unruly and self-destructive tendencies did not help
either, but they obviously endeared the artist to Johnny Depp, whose second
directorial effort, Modi, Three Days on the Wing of Madness, which opened
in New York with strangely little fanfare.
Imagine
having Modigliani sketch your portrait like an amusement park caricaturist. At
the time, the customers of the swanky restaurant do not appreciate their good
fortune. That is especially true of the maître d,’ who inspires Modigliani’s quick
exit through a stained-glass window.
With
the police seeking “Modi,” his gallerist/patron Leopold Zborowski encourages
him to lay low until he can present his work to Maurice Gangnat, an important
collector who could make or break Modigliani’s reputation. However, Modi cannot
stop himself from carousing and making scenes with his lowlife painter friends,
Maurice Utrillo and Chaim Soutine. Frankly, Modi only relaxes when in the
company of his hot-and-cold lover, journalist Beatrice Hastings.
Even
Modi recognizes his fatalism can be self-defeating. Unfortunately his failing health
often leads to fits of depression. He largely masks his worsening condition,
but visions of plague doctors constantly reminds him of his own mortality.
Don’t
call Johnny Depp canceled. He is alive and well and working in Europe. He and
Woody Allen really ought to get together. Regardless, he seems perfectly happy
appearing in idiosyncratic festival bait. Nevertheless, the chance to helm a
period production is an opportunity that rarely comes around for any actor, so
he made the most of it.
Modi
is visually bold
and sometimes even experimental. In addition to his dramatic camera angles and
whirling pans, Depp often renders scenes in the style of vintage black-and-white
silent cinema, even utilizing title cards for dialogue. He also employs an
anachronistic soundtrack, including avant-garde jazz and Tom Waits.
Depp
also benefits from a quality cast, especially including Ricardo Scamarcio, who
broods like a house on fire as Modi. Ironically, Scamarcio bears a resemblance
to both the real-life Modigliani and Depp himself (who never appears in an acting
role), so viewers might start to think of all three interchangeably. Of course,
Al Pacino does his thing, chewing the scenery as Gangnat, while Stephen Graham
provides some semblance of a stable human perspective as Zborowski.
Most Americans have never heard of Ed Euromaus and Edda Euromausi, but the
Europark mascots are beloved (or at least well-liked) in German. However, the unstated
dark secret of their animated film debut is that their race cars are probably
fueled by Russian oil. Of course, there is no mention of geopolitics, but there
is a fair amount of globe-trotting in Waldemar Fast’s The Grand Prix of
Europe, which opens today in theaters.
Euromausi
aspires to a career grand prix racing, but she defers her dreams to work in her
family’s struggling amusement park, out of loyalty to her widower father, Erwin.
Learning her father is in debt to loan sharks, Euromausi travels to Paris, the
first leg of the European Grand Prix, hoping to promote their park. However, she
is distracted by her idol, Euromaus, and his car.
Through
a cartoony set of circumstances, Euromausi crashes his car and sprains Euromaus’s
shoulder. Ed would be disqualified if the borderline-psychotic race director,
Cindy (a Fox), knew he was injured, so Euromaus reluctantly agrees to let the
bundled-up Euromausi pass for him, until his shoulder heals.
Of
course, she gets off to a rocky start in Paris. Yet, the legs through Italy and
the Swiss Alps are even more dangerous, because of an unknown rival driver’s sabotage
attempts. Naturally, her suspicions fall on Nachtkraab, because he is a crow—but
to be fair to Euromausi, he has a nasty habit of sneaking up on people (more like
animals, but you get the point).
Despite her recent scandal, Courtenay Potter is the kind of cheer coach Ted Lasso
could appreciate, because she really cares about her team. Unfortunately, to
break the record for cheer competition victories, Potter must build a new team
from scratch, but fortunately, she always maintains a can-do attitude in co-creator-showrunners
Jeff & Liz Astrof’s Stumble, which premieres tomorrow night on NBC.
Potter
had it all at Sammy Davis Sr. Junior College, until she was caught on camera
celebrating a little too much with her team. Her big, dopey loving husband
Boone remains the football coach at SDSJC, but the best coaching position she can
find is with ambiguously pronounceable Heådltston Junior College, where she
also must half-heartedly teach typing.
Somehow,
Potter recruits a team of misfits, including a narcoleptic, a delinquent with
natural parkour skills, a former team-member who never graduated when Potter
coached him sixteen years ago, and Krystal, the star cheerleader for Sammy
Davis Sr., who transfers because she thinks the documentary will be all about her.
Yes, this
is yet another mockumentary sitcom, but it probably shouldn’t be, because the
things that really work do not lend themselves to the format. Based on the
first two episodes provided for review, Stumble excels when it depicts
the warmth and humor of the Potters’ marriage and her tough but compassionate approach
with her team.
Frankly,
this show would work better if it didn’t feel a need to constantly go for big
yucks. Arguably, it ought to go more for gentler laughs, sort of like the vibe
of the old Family Affair show. For now, Kristin Chenoweth lays on the
shtick so thickly as Tammy Istiny, Potter’s former assistant coach turned catty
rival, viewers could get toxic shock from the cringe. Several of the new cheer team
members could stand for a little toning down as well.
When your job is assassinating assassins, you probably aren’t contributing much to
your 401K. Yet, Sam Hayden is somehow surprised when his boss takes out a
contract on him. Nevertheless, he still wants to complete his latest job, retired
assassin Charles Managold, even though they sometimes must cooperate to survive
the other hit squads. It is awkward, but Hayden and Managold work together better
than Cuomo and Sliwa in Shane Dax Taylor’s Exit Protocol, which releases
this Friday in theaters and on VOD.
Usually,
Hayden’s marks have it coming, maybe even the ones that trouble his conscience.
Managold was one of the worst, until he first found Danique Kellar and then found
God. Unfortunately, Hayden has now found them, but the notorious Managold’s skills
are as good as advertised. Hayden is better prepared for his second attempt,
until his colleagues Isaac Florentine and “Wicked” show up, guns blazing, in
his general direction.
Despite
still hoping to complete his contract, Hayden forges an uneasy alliance with
Managold. It is probably because of the visions he sees of his late girlfriend,
Nona Messenger. Her scenes are weirdly clumsy. At first, Taylor presents her as
if she were of the flesh, but he soon reveals her “ghostly” status shortly
thereafter. Perversely, almost every subsequent appearance tries to shock us
with another revelation regarding her backstory, but it is all very silly and
hopelessly telegraphed. Frankly, the only thing Messenger’s character manages
to accomplish is reminding viewers of the vast superiority of The Sixth
Sense.
Nevertheless,
Dolph Lundgren and Michael Jai White continue to be two of the most reliable
stars of VOD action. Frankly, Lundgren shows some acting chops as Managold, especially
in his scene discussing his conversion. In the case of White (playing Florentine),
his delivery manages to wring some dry humor out of screenwriter Chad Law’s pedestrian
dialogue. He and Lundgren maintain their instant credibility administering beatdowns.
During the Vietnam War, Sen. John McCain received even harsher treatment then his
fellow POW’s when their North Vietnamese Communist captors learned his father
was a very senior Admiral. Unfortunately, Mikael Forss, the son of the Swedish
Defense Minister, finds himself in a similar position when his squad is
captured during the UN’s 1993 Bosnia “peace-keeping” deployment. Supposedly,
their mission is re-opening the Mario Road supply line, but their day-to-day
objectives are dangerously vague in writer-creators Mona Masri & Oliver
Dixon’s six-episode A Life’s Worth, based on Magnus Ernstrom’s
autobiographical novel, which is now streaming on Viaplay.
The
military is only supposed to be a stepping stone for Forss, on his way to a
position in the diplomatic corps and then a political career. At least that is
what his father tells him. However, service in Bosnia is much more difficult than
he or anyone else expected, except maybe their strict but conscientious commander,
Col. Andreasson. Shocked by the death of their APC leader on their first mission,
Forss reluctantly accepts the promotion to be his successor, even though he
lacks confidence. Frankly, Andreasson probably should have picked the
Serbian-speaking Babic. He usually does not make decisions based on politics,
and he certainly resist such thinking in later episodes.
Regardless,
Forss has his hands full with his APC crew. Kilpinen gets hooked on morphine self-medicating
his injuries, but he seeks redemption by helping Eldin, a Muslim father, find
his daughter lost after the Croatian HVO’s massacre of their Stupni Do village.
Meanwhile, Strand falls for Alma, a Croatian cafeteria worker, whose family
will be menaced by both Serbian militias and Bosniak paramilitaries augmented
by Mujahideen.
It is
painfully clear the combatants have little fear of the peacekeepers and no
respect. They call them “Smurfs”’ in [dis]honor of their blue helmets. Viewers
quickly see why. The first time Forss’s APC encounters war crimes in progress, HQ
tells him to act on his own discretion. This is clearly a coded invitation to
retreat, without using so many words.
Indeed,
Life’s Worth suggests there is good reason the American military rarely
places ground troops under UN command (but we sometimes contribute advisors and
staff officers). Neither the objectives or the rules of engagement are ever
clearly established for any of the APC crew’s operations, except perhaps
Andreasson’s Stupni Do rescue mission, which they volunteer for. “Going out and
just doing your best” is not something you can wargame and that’s a long-term problem.
Indeed,
Masri, Dixon, and series director Ahmed Abdullahi do an excellent job
portraying the Swedish military, up and down the chain of command. Much of the
Balkan characterization is more simplistic. There appears to be a conscious
effort to depict atrocities on all three sides. Yet, the Bosnian Muslims
probably emerge with the least to answer for, while the Croatians, like Alma,
are arguably the easiest former Yugoslavian characters to relate to.
Sometimes ice and snow make a thriller more thrilling, like Cliffhanger, Insomnia,
and The Thing. And sometimes they don’t. At least this excursion to
Northern Central Montana continues the trend of thrillers that tell viewers to
respect their local game wardens and park rangers, represented by Joe Picket, Wind River, and Untamed. Just buy those darned hunting
licenses. Unfortunately, poachers will be the least of newly hired game warden
Ani Bayawaa’s concerns in Stefan Ruzowitzky’s Icefall, which releases
tomorrow on VOD.
Rhodes’
gang successfully heisted millions of dollars from the Bulgarian mob, but the plane
carrying the loot crashed into a lake in Montana Blackfoot territory that soon
froze over. As the water started to thaw, one of their black cases rose to the
surface while rugged Harlan was ice-fishing. He is not exactly the license-buying
type, so Bayawaa [rightly] assumes he is a poacher. The big container full of
money makes her even more suspicious, but they soon find themselves working together
to survive when the tracking device leads Rhodes’ goons to them.
Technically,
Pen prefers to think of himself as an ex-goon, because the indigenous local was
born again after the heist. However, Rhodes does not except resignations. Regardless,
Pen can tell Bayawaa and Harlan better understand the land and the dangers it represents
than his fellow crooks.
Ruzowitzky’s
empathy for the indigenous characters (including Pen) and Harlan, a veteran of
Afghanistan, is all to the film’s credit, but in most other respects, Icefall
is a middling thriller. Frankly, he might have gone back to the ice-fishing
hole once too often, because his wintery Deadfall was quite good.
Unfortunately, Icefall isn’t at the same level, the “fall” notwithstanding.
Once
again, Joel Kinnaman is maybe a little too strong and silent as Harlan. Cara
Jade Myers does not bring much warmth or energy to the film either as Bayawaa.
However, Martin Sensmeier really stands out (in the right way) as the conflicted
and brooding Pen. He helps create an intriguing character, whose Christian
conversion is treated with respect by Ruzowitzky and screenwriters Steve Isles
and George Mahaffey, but not necessarily by his former criminal associates.
This hospital should certainly count as a workplace comedy setting, because head nurse
Alex Mazurkian definitely works as hard as anyone. Yet, the toughest part of
her job is keeping her sanity. That’s a universal truth we can all relate to.
It also helps that the comedy is still actually funny in the second season of
co-creators Eric Ledgin & Justin Spitzer’s St. Denis Medical, which
premieres tonight with back-to-back episodes on NBC.
Mazurkian
finally got to enjoy a well-deserved break, so now she wants to keep those
vacation vibes going in “Aloha, Everyone.” Curmudgeonly Dr. Ron Leonard knows
that will never last, but good luck to her. That will be especially true when the
Steve Carell-esque hospital administrator Dr. Joyce Henderson starts drafting
the nursing staff to finish decorating their new birthing center for a major
donor.
Frankly,
this is a relatively laidback episode compared to some of the highlights from
season one, but it still has far more bite than the toothless The Paper.
There is no question St. Denis Medical is the true successor to The
Office. Regardless, it serves as a nice showcase for recurring cast-member David
Theune as Keith Finger, the deadpan sad sack orderly. It also offers Kahyun Kim
an opportunity to act a little nutty as the ordinarily too-cool-for-you Nurse
Serena Jung.
Regardless,
“Mama Bear Activated” is a prime example of the show’s edgy wit, especially
when Dr. Henderson calls a meeting to discuss a recent wave of physical attacks
on staff members. On a serious note, medical professionals really are five times
more likely to be victims of violent assaults. That is a legit problem, but
Henderson is not solving it with her self-defense seminar—in lieu of greater
spending on security systems, of course. Seriously, this compares favorably
with some of Carrel’s best Office scenes. Arguably, there is no funnier depiction
of an obnoxious boss currently on television than Wendi McClendon-Covey’s portrayal
of Henderson. That is meant as the highest praise. Yet, what really makes her
funny is her after-the-fact realizations of her infractions against current
heightened (wokish) sensitivities.
Please forget the Blue Beetle movie from two years ago. It wasn’t simply bad. It
disrespected the original characters co-created by Steve Ditko and the beliefs
they expressed for years. Remember, in addition to many of the characters DC acquired
from Charleton Comics (including Blue Beetle), Ditko also created Marvel’s
Spider-Man and the explicitly Objectivist and very independent Mr. A. Instead
of the stridently anti-capitalist live action betrayal, watch the cheeky DC
Showcase animated short film Blue Beetle, directed by Milo Neuman, which
salutes many of Dikto’s signature characters, making it appropriate viewing today,
the birthday (11/2) of the Hall of Fame comics writer and artist.
The
characters are now part of the DC Universe[s], but their roots are in Charleton.
Yet, the animation deliberately evokes the vibe of the groovy, goofy 1970s Spider-Man
cartoons. Somehow, the Squid Gang (Blue Beetle’s frequent AIM or Hydra-like
nemesis) successfully getaway with a massive Hope-ish gemstone, despite Blue
Beetle’s best efforts.
This is the real Blue Beetle: Ted Kord, Charleton/DC’s version of a mecha-suited
Tony Stark. Screenwriters Jeremy Adams & Jennifer Keene make him
tech-smart, but dumb in most other respects. Fortunately, he teams up with The
Question—the real Question, Vic Sage (and not the current Question of the recent
All Along the Watchtower limited comic series), who quickly traces the
Squids back to mad scientist Dr. Spectro.
Alarmingly,
Dr. Spectro has applied his cutting-edge mind-control technology to Captain
Atom and Nightshade, two additional former Charleton superheroes created by
Ditko. It is particularly satisfying to see Captain Atom’s heroic resistance,
considering his struggles in the limited series Justice League: The Atom Project
(which overlaps with All Along the Watchtower).
This DC
Showcase short is devilishly sly and delightfully silly, but perhaps
the best part is its spot-on presentation of the Question’s uncompromising philosophic
honesty. Indeed, the character and his intellectually rigorous dialogue are
well served by David Kaye’s incisive voiceover performance. Clearly, Neuman and
company have affection for the character and appreciate the philosophy that makes him who he is.
If MacGyver and Rube Goldberg started a sewing circle, they would invite Barbara
Duggen to join them. She can do almost anything with a needle and thread,
except keep her late mother’s custom seamstress business afloat. A briefcase
full of cash would certainly help, but no matter what choices she makes,
someone always comes after her in Freddy Macdonald’s Sew Torn, which
premieres today on Shudder.
After enduring
the verbal abuse of her senior citizen bridezilla client, Duggen drives through
the wreckage of a shootout between drug dealers. Instead of calling the police
(or rather the Scandinavian village’s sole cop/justice of the peace/notary), she
wires up the scene with thread, to finish them off. When the ambusher still
survives, she carries him home, rigging him into an unlikely needle and thread
pulley system. How does it end? Not well, as viewers know from the gruesome
prologue montage, so the film rewinds to let Duggen chose two more alternatives.
Calling
Sheriff Engel from the scene also turns into a nightmare for Duggen, because
the eccentric peace officer immediately uncovers her plan to make off with the
loot. For her third go-round, Duggen forms an alliance with Joshua Armitage,
the bleeding and battered drug courier, who also happens to be the much-abused
son of Hudson Armitage, the drug lord making each branching fork end so badly
for her.
Frankly,
some of Duggen’s threaded contraptions are a little too convoluted for viewers to
fully comprehend the mechanics involved and a little too cute to take
seriously. However, the ironic sense of humor adds a good deal saltiness. Regardless,
it is inventive, which is cool.
Gen X did a lot of things right, but our record raising Millennial and Gen Z
kids has been admittedly dismal. The job Maddie and Frank did with Alice is a
case in point. She has always been an irresponsible basket-case, but she might
have to find some sudden maturity when she takes a detour through the Twilight
Zone (so to speak) in Babak Anvari’s Hallow Road, which opens today as part
of a special AMC horror double feature.
After
arguing with her parents (yet again), Alice drove off angry into the night,
where she slammed into an unsuspecting girl her age. Of course, she calls her parents
hoping they can fix her mess (yet again). Maddie, a burned out EMT wants her to
call back emergency services, so she can follow their directions, but the even
more-coddling Frank insists she keep them on speaker phone as they race to meet
her along a lonely stretch of Hallow Road.
Apparently,
that titular road has a bit of a folky horror reputation. Not surprisingly, the
vibe feels off. (Coincidentally, the GPS display says its 10/31, but maybe its
always Halloween on Hallow Road.) Regardless, Maddie has more pressing
concerns, like trying to save the poor girl’s life. To make matters worse,
Frank constantly contradicts her with his responsibility-averse advice. Then a
mystery couple arrives on the scene.
To a
great extent, Hallow Road is like the genre take on Locke—and it
works surprisingly well as such. Anvari’s execution is tense, moody, and
claustrophobic. It literally incorporates several of parents’ worst fears, so
it is easy to relate to Maddie and Frank, despite (or even because of) their
shortcomings.