Tribeca ’20: The Tiger Who Came to Tea (short)

The example of Joe Exotic (and his equally dodgy critics) should make it clear big cats are not to be trifled with. Therefore, we can all agree hosting a tiger for afternoon tea is an inherently dangerous proposition. Nevertheless, it is hard to say no when one just up and knocks on your door, because when is such an opportunity likely to repeat itself? Sophie and her Mummy will indeed host the big cat in Robin Shaw’s UK Channel 4-produced The Tiger Who Came to Tea, which would have screened at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival, if the CCP and WHO had acted more responsibly during the pandemic breakout in Wuhan.

Sophie and Mummy had to stay home because of rain, so they decided to make the best of it and throw a tea party. Somehow the tiger smelled out their sandwiches and pastries. He is quite a shocking site on their doorstep, but it would be rude not to invite him in.

Rather surprisingly, there is always an aura of danger surrounding the tiger. As voiced by David Oyelowo, Sophie’s tiger friend is not so very different from Shere Khan in Disney’s animated Jungle Book. Although he never does anything violent, he eats way more than a reasonable guest would.

Sundance ’20: Ironbark

His father was an officer in the White Army, but Oleg Penkovsky’s military service during the Winter War and WWII earned him the trust and confidence of the Communist Party, allowing him to rise high in the ranks of the GRU (military intelligence). His decision to supply sensitive information about Khrushchev’s plan to deploy nuclear missiles in Cuba is considered a crucial turning point in the Cold War. (Plus, in Tom Clancy’s novels, he is also responsible for recruiting the titular double-agent in The Cardinal of the Kremlin.) Penkovsky played a risky game, but his partner was an amateur, Greville Wynne, recruited precisely because he would not act like a spy. Their cloak-and-dagger relationship is the focus of Dominic Cooke’s historical espionage thriller, Ironbark, which had its world premiere at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival.

In 1960, Col. Penkovsky (codename: “Ironbark”) was technically the chair of the Soviet Committee for Scientific Research, but his real duties were with the GRU. He was therefore privy to military secrets and present for many of Khrushchev’s bellicose tirades. The combination of the two convinced him the First Secretary’s policies represented a grave danger to the Soviet Union and the rest of the world, so he found a very clever method to reach out to the Yanks. Unfortunately, the CIA was particularly weak in Moscow after the detection and execution of their prime source, Major Pyotr Semyonovich Popov. That means CIA Agent Emily Donovan must work with MI6, who rather cleverly recruit businessman Greville Wynne, a sort of small-time Armand Hammer, who had already done deals in captive Warsaw Pact nations.

Since trade and technology fell under Penkovsky’s purview, it does not raise any red flags (so to speak) when Wynne makes contact through official channels. For his own protection, he knows nothing about the intelligence he carries from the GRU officer to Donovan and her MI6 colleagues. Of course, he develops a pretty good guess when the Cuban Missile Crisis ignites. He might not be a spy, but he’s not an idiot either. As suspicion starts to fall on Penkovsky, Wynne agrees to return again, at the risk of his life and freedom, even though his wife suspects him of having another affair.

Ironbark is the best real-life Cold War thriller since Spielberg’s Bridge of Spies—and it just might be even better. It is a highly compelling portrait of friendship and an absolutely chilling depiction of how the Soviet system oppressed and terrorized its people. We see the insides of KGB prisons as well as their ruthless interrogation techniques, all of which are horrifying to witness.

Most importantly, Ironbark still functions as a tense, intrigue-drenched thriller that takes on grandly tragic dimensions during the third act. This is a painstakingly crafted period production, with every little detail reflecting the early 1960s time period (for appropriately depressing effect). Likewise, the cast uniformly look their parts.

As Wynne, Benedict Cumberbatch runs quite a spectrum, from the shallow but likable twit MI6 recruits to the resolute man of conscience risking everything for Penkovsky. Frankly, it looks like he did a De Niro crash diet to look properly malnourished in later scenes. Yet, the Oscar-worthy standout, knockout performance comes from Merab Ninidze (who also co-starred in Bridge of Spies and the once-censored Stalinist allegory, Repentance) quietly commanding the screen as Penkovsky. It is a smart, deeply humanistic portrait that brings all of the Colonel’s inner conflicts to the fore.

SXSW ’17: Walk with Me

Thich Nhat Hanh has published forty books in English translation. That constitutes a nice backlist, but there is still another sixty-some untranslated titles for his publisher to dip into. Clearly, Nhat Hanh is prolific, but his body of work is truly impressive considering his work ethic is tempered by his practice of mindfulness—a conscious embrace of the present moment. Although health concerns have finally slowed down the ninety-year-old teacher, Max Pugh & Marc J. Francis documented the Thien (Zen) Buddhist monk at the peak of his powers, as he interacts with the students and fellow monastics of his Plum Village spiritual community in Walk with Me (trailer here), which screens during this year’s SXSW.

Nhat Hanh first rose to prominence advocating a peaceful resolution to the Vietnam War, but when the war did indeed end, he was exiled from his country until 2005, which probably tells you everything you need to know about the so-called Peace Movement’s assumptions. Yet, one could argue his influence has been far greater than if he had remained in his homeland, as has been the case for the great teachers of Tibetan Buddhism.

Pugh & Francis manage to capture a sense of what attracts both the monastics and the visitors to Plum Village (near Dordogne, which also has a large British expat community). Obviously, the tranquil vibe starts with Nhat Hanh himself, but a sense of mindfulness permeates the place. We see it in practice when the entire community stops in mid-stride and mid-sentence whenever bells chime, to re-focus on the moment. It is also impossible to miss the beauty of their services, especially those involving performances by Sister Trai Nghiem and her fellow musical monastics. Many visitors are literally moved to tears by their sounds and probably a lot of audience members will be right there with them.

However, unlike the still spritely Dalai Lama, it is hard to draw a bead on Nhat Hanh’s personality, beyond his superhuman sereneness. Benedict Cumberbatch (who might replace Richard Gere as the go-to narrator for Buddhist-themed documentaries) reads excerpts from Fragrant Palm Leaves with all do sensitivity, but his syrupy voice reinforces our distance from the ostensive subject. Instead, Pugh & Francis apparently opt to show how the teacher is reflected in the disciple. Again, Walk with Me will sneak up and coldcock viewers with the depth of feeling experienced by an American monastic reuniting with the nursing home-bound father she rarely has an opportunity to visit.

Mindfulness really is the key to Walk with Me. It is a somewhat uneven film, but the high points are arrestingly beautiful. So, you had better pay attention, because you would not want to miss those moments when they happen. Highly recommended for spiritual audiences of all faiths, Walk with Me screens again this morning (3/13) and Wednesday (3/15), during SXSW ’17.

Black Mass: Depp as Bulger

The one man James “Whitey” Bulger truly regrets not killing is radio host Howie Carr. Of course, it was not for a lack of trying. Yet, there is no mention of Carr in Hollywood’s first take on the Bulger case. In many ways, it is a kitchen sink movie, but its inclusions and exclusions are each significant. However, there is no denying the gangster’s fierceness in Scott Cooper’s Black Mass (trailer here), which opens today nationwide.

Bulger hated to be called Whitey, preferring to be called Jimmy by friends and low life associates. Whitey was the leader of the Winter Hill Gang, his brother William was the Democrat president of the Massachusetts State Senate, and John Connolly was the hotshot FBI agent returning to the South Boston neighborhood of his youth. Whitey had once interceded when a group of bullies were battering Connolly and he had idolized the unstable Bulger ever since. It seems that he still does.

According to Mark Mallouk and Jez Butterworth’s adaptation of Dick Lahr & Gerard O’Neill’s book, Connolly hatched the idea of an FBI alliance with Bulger out of misplaced hero-worship. Whether that is psychologically accurate or not, the upshot remains the same. Connolly used FBI resources to protect Bulger and facilitate his brutal expansion in exchange for information on the Italian mafia. Just how much information Bulger provided is the subject of great contention, but Black Mass portrays his reluctant scoop as the turning point in the mafia investigation.

Essentially, Black Mass jogs through the sad criminal epic, hitting the major bases and giving viewers of grab bag smattering of perspectives on Whitey. There is the Southie folk hero who helps old Mrs. Cody with her groceries. There is the psychopathic Whitey, who would take you out and shoot you for saying the wrong thing. There is also a smidge of the co-conspiring Brothers Bulger, whom Carr castigated for robbing people blind—one using the force of the Winter Hill Gang, the other using the force of the government.

The problem is Cooper and company clearly bought into Whitey’s self-invented mythology to some extent, in order to portray him as a Cagney-esque figure. Yet, Whitey is the man who forced Stephen Rakes to sign over his liquor store, simply because he was stronger and he wanted it. That’s not Robin Hood. That’s the Sheriff of Nottingham. Whitey terrified South Boston in that manner, but it is completely absent from the film.

On the plus side, the Johnny Depp we have been missing for years finally decided to show up. He captures Whitey’s erratic intensity, venomous rage, and wiry power. Although small in stature, he is a physically intimidating presence. One look at him says bad news. That was how Whitey kept the town under his heel for so long.

Joel Edgerton is suitably awestruck and ultimately quite pitiable as the Connolly. However, while FBI special agent Robert Fitzpatrick was the hero of Joe Berlinger’s documentary WHITEY: the United States of America v. James J. Bulger, he is relegated to the background of Mass and played by the inconsequential Adam Scott, who looks far too young to be the agent that busted James Earl Ray (disclosure: my house published Fitzpatrick’s book, but we have never met).

Similarly, Benedict Cumberbatch is obviously proud of his Boston accent, but he does not radiate adequate villainy as William Bulger. Still, Jesse Plemons and Rory Cochrane are totally credible as Whitey’s trusted inner circle, but their most substantial scenes come in the first twenty minutes during the interrogation framing device.

Depp should be in contention for his work as Whitey, because it really is that good. Unfortunately, it comes in a rather shallow and inconsistent film. Far from being the final word on Bulger, Black Mass is a disappointment that only serves as an effective star vehicle for Depp when it opens today (9/18) at the AMC Empire in New York.

August: Osage County: Using Ham as Oscar Bait

The original Broadway production of Tracy Letts’ August: Osage County dominated the Tonys, netting best straight play, best lead actress for Deanna Dunagan, best featured actress for Rondi Reed, best director for Anna D. Shapiro, and another lead actress nomination for Amy Morton.  Aside from Letts adapting his play for the screen, none of the Tony winners would reprise their roles in the movie version.  Instead, it was clearly conceived as an Oscar vehicle for a number of formerly popular stars. Prepare for a lot of yelling and drawling when the John Wells helmed August: Osage County (trailer here) opens tomorrow in New York.

Pill-popping Violet Weston was a terrible mother to her grown children and remains a thoroughly rotten human being in her twilight years.  Even the onset of mouth cancer has not moderated her nasty temperament.  It seems she finally drove her beloved and despised husband Beverly to suicide, but the ambiguous circumstances leave some room for denial.  After his funeral, the extended family gathers for a memorial dinner.  The main course will be recriminations, followed by bile for desert.

Like it or not, everyone is there.  Ivy is the mousey daughter who never got out from under Mother Weston’s thumb.  Karen is the family’s Blanche Dubois, who has brought along her next prospective sugar daddy hubby.  Barbara Weston is the only daughter Violet ever respected, because she has some backbone and attitude.  Unfortunately, her relations are currently strained with her unfaithful husband and their moody tweener daughter. As if that were not enough, Weston’s sister Mattie Fae Aiken (sort of a Violet-lite) will also be in attendance, along with her laidback husband Charlie, and their awkward son Little Charles, upon whom she constantly rains down emotional abuse.  The cooking and serving will be done by Johnna Monevata, the Native American domestic Beverly hired shortly before his misadventure.  If a fire broke out in the house, she would be the only one you would save.

As the film starts, Sam Shepard’s wonderfully understated near cameo as Beverly Weston suggests we are in for an acting showcase.  Then Meryl Streep shuffles in, like Dwight Frye in a Dracula movie and all hope of subtlety is thrown out the window.  Seriously, there has to be a chapter of Overactors Anonymous in Hollywood.  Admitting there is a problem is always the first step (I’ve heard there are eleven more after that), but its never going to happen until critics and guilds stop hyping every Streep performance just because they’re supposed to. There are times you think Streep will end a scene by loudly proclaiming “Acting!” like Jon Lovitz’s Thespian character on Saturday Night Live.  The way she masticates the furniture will give audiences indigestion. 

Yet, her more-is-never-enough approach sort of works during the big dinner time smackdown.  However, Julia Roberts deserves credit for hanging with her without going wildly over the top.  Frankly, it looks like she is manhandling Streep for real at one point, which provides a degree of viewer satisfaction. When Roberts and Streep go at it, the movie starts to click.  Unfortunately, this natural peak comes about midway through the film.  Every predictable family revelation that follows feels like a letdown.

Still, Roberts’ work is consistently strong throughout the film.  She also has some fine support from Chris Cooper, Julianne Nicholson, and Misty Upham as Big Charlie, Ivy Weston, and Johnnna Monevata, respectively.  It is worth noting these are quieter, more reflective and nuanced turns.  In contrast, Benedict Cumberbatch proves sometimes less really is less, disappearing into the background as poor put-upon Little Charles.

When you see the film version of Osage, it is easy to understand why it was successful on-stage.  Perhaps Streep’s unrestrained performance would work better in that venue, if you were hard of hearing and sitting in the back row of the balcony.  On film, it is destined to rank alongside Faye Dunaway’s Joan Crawford in Mommie Dearest.  Violet probably doesn’t dig wire hangers either.  There is a lot of good work in the film version, but ultimately it is structurally unbalanced and fatally overwhelmed by its excess Streepness.  Only satisfying for diehard Roberts fans, August: Osage County opens tomorrow (12/27) in New York at the Loews Lincoln Square and the Regal Union Square.

The Contemporary Sherlock Returns

At the end of the first season of Masterpiece’s Sherlock Holmes reboot, the consulting detective came face-to-face with his arch-nemesis, consulting criminal Jim Moriarty.  Now it is time to introduce the femme fatale.  After getting a reprieve from the cliffhanger ending season one, Holmes meets the incomparable Irene Adler in A Scandal in Belgravia, the first of three new episodes making up Sherlock season two, which premieres this Sunday on PBS’s Masterpiece Mystery (promo here).

Rest assured, Moriarty is not done with Holmes.  For the time being though, Holmes is free to solve some very high profile cases, including the recovery of a painting stolen from the American ambassador, titled the Reichenbach Falls.  This will be significant later in season two.  For now, it raises Holmes stature to such a point, the British government requests the detective’s help recovering some sensitive photos of a Royal from the cell phone of dominatrix Adler.  As Homes fans know, this is no ordinary scandalous woman.  Holmes himself has no idea what to make of her, partly because she receives the sleuth in the nude, thereby robbing his keen powers of observation of any details to form deductions from.

Right, where were we? Something about Public Broadcasting?  While always shot from discrete angles, Belgravia is pretty HBO for PBS.  Each previous episode has modernized the Doyle stories in clever ways, but the season two opener takes it to a new level.  As Adler, Lara Pulver is the guest star to beat all guest stars.  Her chemistry with the new Holmes, Benedict Cumberbatch, is appropriately weird but hot.  Frankly, the re-conception of The Hound of the Baskervilles (as The Hounds of Baskerville), which many fans have probably been eagerly anticipating, is something of a let-down by comparison.

In S2E2, there indeed appears to be a hound haunting the moors, but it seems to involve a shadowy government research lab.  Compounding the disappointing clichés, the CIA factors somewhat vaguely in the skullduggery.  On the plus side, a vegan restaurant also seems to be up to no good.  Mostly importantly, it gives Rupert Graves a bit of an opportunity to develop his Inspector Lestrade.  Not a bumbling plodder in the Dennis Hoey-Eddie Marsan tradition, he is a reasonably smart and charismatic fellow.  In fact, Holmes might actually sort of-kind of like the Scotland Yard man, at least as much as he can like anyone who is not Watson or Adler.

As it began, season two ends with one of the series’ best episodes overall.  Making good on his promises, Moriarty returns to wreck havoc on Holmes.  Not content to simply kill his rival, the super-villain sets in motion an elaborate plan to thoroughly discredit the detective first.  The resulting affair takes Holmes to some very dark places—like Luther levels of psychological angst.

Season two is about as cinematic as episodic television gets, particularly Belgravia and Reichenbach, helmed by Paul McGuigan and Toby Haynes, respectively.  Smartly written, the series not only performs a shrewd alchemy on the original Doyle stories, it also plays off the themes of the Billy Wilder’s non-canonical The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes.  Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman’s Watson have plenty of amusing bickering banter, but the way they portray the deepening of the 221B residents friendship is one of the most appealing developments of the show.  Surpassing the first outing, the second season of Sherlock is quite highly recommended, even for casual mystery fans, when it starts this Sunday (5/6) and continuing over the following two weeks (5/13, and 5/20) on most PBS outlets.