The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins, on NBC

Poor New York football fans. Recent years have been tough and there is plenty of blame to go around. At least in this show, Jets fans can focus their anger on one man. That would be All-Pro running back Reggie Dinkins, who was banned for gambling right before the Super Bowl, which the Jets went on to lose—badly. Dickins still wants the color commentary gigs and his rightful place in the Hall of Fame, so he hired semi-disgraced documentarian Arthur Tobin to rehabilitate his image. It might just work, but not in the way he hopes, because the embarrassing moments Tobin captures, of both Dinkins and himself, could go along way towards humanizing them in creators Robert Carlock & Sam Means’ The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins, which starts its regular run tomorrow on NBC.

This is not an American remake of The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin, despite the weirdly similar titles. This Reggie is essentially the Pete Rose of football. He says he only bet on himself, but his media apology tour was a disaster. Initially, his ex-wife manager Monica Reese-Dinkins was against hiring Tobin, but she starts to warm to the filmmaker and his methods in the second episode, “Nittany Means Big.” The title refers to a disastrous prank Reese-Dinkins covered up for her then fiancé during their college years. It is an example of the show’s football references, which should be sufficiently specific for fans, but not too deep in the weeds for more casual viewers.

The pilot, which previously premiered after an NFL playoff game is very much a getting-to-know-you episode, introducing Dinkins, his ex, their son Carmelo, and his influencer fiancée, Brina, as well as his wacky “neighbor,” Rusty Boyd, Dinkins’ best friend (the former back-up kicker), who lives in his basement. We also learn about Tobin’s disgrace, when a video of his meltdown trying to helm a Marvel movie starts going viral again.

Frankly, the next three episodes are somewhat sharper and funnier than the premise-setting pilot. The title of episode three, “Put it on Your Cabbage,” refers to an amusing subplot, wherein Dinkins loses his final endorsement. It also allows co-leads Tracy Morgan and Daniel Radcliffe to build some chemistry as their characters both endure public humiliation, at a New Jersey restaurant and a documentary film festival. (Those scenes were filmed on location outside the Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center.)

“Save the Cat,” written by Grace Edwards, features a funny guest appearance by Corbin Bernsen as Dinkins’ bitter former coach Duck Donovan, who will hopefully become a recurring character. Bobby Moynihan also mines plenty of humor from his schlubby Boyd tutoring the reluctant Reese-Dinkins on dating app strategy.

Stumble, on NBC

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.

The Paper, on Peacock

If you think Frederick Wiseman’s documentaries are long, start watching all the footage shot by the filmmakers supposedly documenting Dunder Mifflin through all 201 episodes of The Office. They are back in the field shooting a new project, but it probably will not last as long. Arguably, creators Greg Daniels and Michal Koman were victims of their own success, because the popularity of The Office spawned a parade of mockumentary imitators. Their latest feels like more of the same, but there are enough connecting elements to call Daniels & Koman’s The Paper a spin-off when it launches today on Peacock.

Alas, Dunder Mifflin went out of business, but a giant paper conglomerate acquired the remnants, including accountant Oscar Martinez, whom they moved to their Toledo office (seriously, what a downer of a spinoff premise). There he shares open bullpen space with the company’s least important asset: the Toledo Truth-Teller. It was once a respected regional newspaper that was even the subject of a 1960s D.A. Pennebaker-esque documentary. Sadly, it has declined into a printed throwaway largely consisting of wire service reports and an online clickbait operation, which is exactly how acting managing editor Esmeralda Grand likes it.

However, Ned Sampson intends to shake things up, which he should be able to do, since he is ostensibly her new boss. He was a crackerjack paper salesman, so he parlayed his success into the journalism career he always wanted. Unfortunately, he only has one employee with legitimate journalism experience, Mare Pritti, an Army veteran and former Stars and Stripes reporter.

The self-importance of journalists ought to be a big fat target for Daniels, Koman, and their co-writers (the Truth-Teller name alone should inspire groans of mockery), but they largely ignore it, in favor of conventional office place humor. That might make sense, since it was their specialty, but the gleefully mischievous edge that made The Office consistently the funniest show of its time is conspicuously missing from the first four episodes. (All ten installments of season one premiered today, but other critics stopped at four, so it seems fair to match their endurance.)

Indeed, series lead Domhnall Gleason delivers plenty of Office-worthy cringe as Sampson, but there isn’t the same level of caustic wit to counter-balance it. Instead, Sabrina Impacciatore serves up constant over-the-top shtick as his main nemesis, Grand, who would defy viewers’ patience and credibility in an Absolutely Fabulous rip-off.

It is nice that Chelsea Frei portrays Pritti as a sympathetic veteran, who thus far seems to be the most functional staff member at the Truth-Teller. However, her persona has yet to develop beyond a skeptical potential love interest. Frankly, the rest of the staff is even blander, except Martinez, still played by Oscar Nunez, who came prefabricated and ready-for-use from the mother series.

Match Point, Mockumentary-Sitcom

Supposedly, this is a tennis podcast, but the co-hosts do not seem to know Andy Roddick from Andy Murray. Perhaps that is where the comedy is supposed to come from. At least viewers can identify with their stressed-out producer during the first two episodes of creator-writer-director Joslyn Rose Lyons’ mockumentary-sitcom Match Point, which release today on VOD.

Max is a two-time Olympic tennis gold medalist—one-time came with his co-host and former doubles partner Anthony. Presumably, neither won any Grand Slams, since everyone only talks about the Olympics. At least they look like athletes, as they should, since they are played by former Denver Broncos Superbowl champs Vernon Davis and Omar Bolden. Davis was way better as the sinister villain in Ritual Killer than that oddball VOD thriller deserved. He also intuitively knows when to ham it up for the sake of the material in the first two episodes provided for review.

Indeed, the writing needs a lot of punching up, because Lyons gives viewers a lot of shtick, like Ronan the sound guy, who blows a large alphorn (seen in the Ricola commercial) for reasons that are never quite clear. Frankly, Match Point would be funnier if it focused more on sports, particularly tennis. All the jokes involving neurotic celebrities and vapid influencers just feel shopworn.

Lion vs the Little People—It Never Uses the “M” Word

This is the sort of film that makes you wonder what kid of elevator pitch the filmmakers developed. Basically, it is a mockumentary creating the fictional backstory of a semi-real internet hoax. It probably sounds exploitative, but it tries to make all the right points about representation and agency of little people. How well that works is debatable throughout screenwriter-director Raphael Warner’s Lion vs the Little People, which is now available on VOD.

At the end of Lion, the closing titles admit the expose the audience just watched is fictional, but they maintain the pretense up to that point. Apparently, a phony BBC news item really did go viral claiming 42 little people were killed in a mysterious battle with a lion. Technically, it used the “M” word, which Warner always scrupulously bleeps. The story (and it is a story) goes a dodgy FOB cardboard magnate named Larry Vincent Ross created an underground little people fight circuit in Macau, in partnership with a Chinese gangster with high-ranking CCP connections. That part is pretty believable, especially the photoshopped pictures of him with Bill Clinton. The TV ads he supposedly cut for his ill-fated chain of dojos are less credible.

When the illegal fight circuit took off, Ross and his associates escalated the action, pitting his little people fighters against animals. Inevitably, things got a little too hot, so they decided to cash-out with a big finale, but they had to lure legit little actors from Hollywood for their battle royale against a lion.

Let me repeat: I am not making this up—but Warner is. The film goes out of its way to use the right terms and criticize stereotypes, but the fundamental premise is just about the most exploitative thing you could imagine—and that is inevitably (if maybe unintentionally) reflected in the one-sheet.

Yet, it has to be stipulated this is a work of great chutzpah from Warner. Seriously, you have to wonder how he pitched this film. Somehow, he even managed to recruit Linda Thorson (fondly remembered as Tara King, Emma Peel’s successor on The Avengers) to play Gayle Bennet, the Hollywood casting director duped by Ross.

In a Silent Way: Fusion Gets a Mockumentary

Jazzen Goodman is an idiot, but for us jazz fans, but he is probably the closest thing we will get to our own version of Spinal Tap. Somewhat counterintuitively, Goodman is obsessed with jazz fusion, with the kind of passion we might expect more for Hard Bop, or maybe even traditional New Orleans styles. He is not completely lacking in talent, but he is definitely his own worst enemy in Collin Levin’s mockumentary, In a Silent Way, which is now available on VOD.

Despite sharing a title with Miles Davis’s classic album (featuring Joe Zawinul and Wayne Shorter), Goodman seems to identify more with Weather Report and fictional saxophonist Mark Eric Rothco, whom he is sure to alienate sooner or later. So far, his band has been loyal to him, thanks to the drummer Yoshi, who is the real glue holding them together. However, Goodman is convinced he is the star and the presence of the documentarian filming him (not entirely unreasonably) confirms his judgment.

Unfortunately, Goodman is constantly humbled by the LA music scene. Often, it is his own fault. Already over-eager, the guitarist really kicks his stalkerish impulses into overdrive when he convinces himself he had a premonition revealing he only has one month to live.

For someone who loves jazz, In a Silent Way can be painful to watch. Most of the musicians I know are absolutely nothing like Goodman, but there were one or two who might share some of his self-defeating tendencies. As a depiction of scuffling fusion players, it is only too realistic. However, the prevailing vibe is not one of humor, but rather awkward uncomfortableness.

Co-writer Nicolai Dorian is so all-in as Goodman, he will have viewers tearing their hair out. His lack of maturity and self-awareness gets exponentially more difficult to witness. The rest of the band is stuck in his shadow, except (somewhat) Dillon J. Stucky as the sympathetic Yoshi. However, Jim Meskimen feels totally legit playing legendary fusion record producer, “Tape” McDuffy. Plus, keyboardist Scott Kinsey briefly appears as himself, for added authenticity.

It is frustrating that even in a film like In a Silent Way, music comes dead last in the final credit roll. You would hope that the producers would value the musicians’ contributions and viewers of a film like this would surely be interested to know who they were. Regardless, Jacob Scesney, Isamu McGregor, Joey Lefitz, Balam Garcia, and Zephyr Avalon sound great on numerous selections (some also featuring Goodman’s reedman rival, Nikaras). Logically, there are also several tracks from Kinsey: “Baba Moussa,” “Kingpin,” and “Near Life Experience.”

Japan Cuts ’20: Extro

If you want to work as an extra in the Japanese film industry, you will find yourself wearing a lot of Edo-era historical costumes. If you’re really lucky, you might get crushed by a kaiju or two. No matter what the context, extras must blend-in and never stand-out. It sounds easy, but it will be quite an adventure for some extras pursuing their trade in Naoki Murahashi’s mockumentary, Extro, which screens as part of the Japan Society’s Japan Cuts Festival of New Japanese Film (all virtual this year).

Kozo Haginoya is now semi-retired, so he has time for the extra work that comes his way through the Lark Agency. He mostly appears in Jidaigeki period productions filmed at the near-by Warp Station Edo, a model samurai-era town. Yet, his dream is to play a fireman, like Steve McQueen in Towering Inferno. Regardless, it will be touch-and-go for him just trying to make it through this episode of The Claws of Edo.

Unfortunately for Lark, Haginoya will not be Lark’s most embarrassing client. That’s when Extro takes a rather madcap turn. Murahashi definitely gives Japanese extras the Waiting for Guffman treatment, but he is so deadpan about it, the film’s zaniness totally sneaks up on the audience. For at least the first hour, viewers could be fooled into thinking they are watching a legit documentary, especially given the presence of real-life stars like Yuki Saito, Koji Yamamoto, and Riho Miaki (a.k.a. J-Pop star Riho Kotani), playing themselves.

Lost and Found: Rediscovering the All-Time Worst Exploitation Studio

The schlock Silver Screen Cinema Pictures International (SSCPI) churned out must have been unwatchable since not even grindhouse documentary mainstay John Waters is willing wax nostalgic over the oeuvre of Morris “Stogie” Carlisle. Of course, mighty SSCPI never actually existed, but a small platoon of genre film bloggers and critics will pretend otherwise. Rather impressively, they mostly manage to keep a straight face in Jason Bailey & Mike Hull’s mockumentary Lost & Found: The True Hollywood Story of Silver Screen Cinema Pictures International (trailer here), which is now available on Vimeo VOD.

Carlisle’s grade-Z exploitation movies were reportedly unwatchable, but we will have to take critic Glenn Kenny’s word for it, because we can no longer judge for ourselves. “Tragically,” the entire SSCPI film library went up in flames just prior to their VHS transfer, thanks to Stogie’s cigar. That was it, they were all gone. All that was left of SSCP was a hefty insurance settlement. However, a cache of trailers was discovered three years ago, giving us a maybe not-so tantalizing glimpse at what we have lost.

The vintage grindhouse details are so spot-on and the talking head commentary is so persuasive, viewers will start to wonder if SSCPI maybe really did exist, but the cast listing in the end credits is a dead giveaway. In fact, Dave Bailey and Mac Welch are wonderfully sly as the supposedly late Carlisle and his semi-estranged frequent cast-member, Dick Haze. However, Clint Howard totally takes the cake appearing as Howard Clinton, a formerly famous star, who only shot a day’s worth of film with Carlisle, but footage of his portrayal of an angry cop barking order into a phone would be spliced into dozens of subsequent SSCPI films.

You have to give our colleagues credit for mining SSCPI for laughs. As usual, Grady Hendrix’s enthusiasm is contagious, while Kenny plays his bad cop, SSCPI-demystifying role to the hilt. Frankly, very few of the trailers within the film look tempting in any way, shape, or form, except perhaps Black Thunder, a.k.a. Grandmaster Brown (or should that be vice versa?). Nevertheless, anyone who has enjoyed nostalgic documentaries like American Grindhouse and Rewind This, spoofs like Turbo Kid, or neo-grindhouse films, such as Ladies of the House should appreciate the charms of Lost & Found. Highly entertaining, it is now available via Vimeo.

Fantasia ’16: Fury of the Demon

It is a film so powerful, it causes disorientation, short-term psychosis, and violent rioting, but it is still more entertaining to watch than A Serbian Film. It is the oldest of old school horror films, helmed by the pioneer himself, Georges Méliès, or perhaps one of his sinister colleagues. Technically, the notorious lost film never really existed, but that does not stop the French genre cinema establishment from analyzing the heck out of it in Fabien Delage’s droll mockumentary, Fury of the Demon (trailer here), which screened during the 2016 Fantasia International Film Festival.

Every decade or so, someone stumbles upon a print of Fury of the Demon and screens it, unwittingly unleashing chaos. Eccentric American film collector Edgar A. Wallace (note middle initial) sort of knew what he had, but his private screening for French film scholars and journalists yielded similar results. Various French critics play it admirably straight for Delage as they describe the terrors of the experience. Frankly, they aren’t bad actors at all. For added genre appeal, Alexandre Aja and Christophe Gans also get in on the joke as talking head commentators.

Fury bizarrely taps into something that is hard to define. With over two hundred of Méliès’ five hundred film oeuvre missing, who is to say what we haven’t seen? After all, his Robinson Crusoe just turned up four years ago. Ironically, the universally ignored B-movie Playback, sort of used a similar Macguffin, but it that case it was Louis Le Prince (a.k.a. Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness). Although Playback’s riff on Le Prince lacked Delage’s erudite sophistication, it was still the best part of the film.

However, Fury really does it right. Delage cleverly assembles evocative Méliès clips and constructs an eerily believable alternate mythology in a mere sixty minutes. Did Méliès really have an occult-obsessed junior partner named Victor Sicarius, who secretly made early splatter-gore films on the side? It is doubtful, but if so, maybe its all real. In that case, could someone point out where Manhattan’s “historic Virginia Theater” stands?

When you watch Fury, you sort of want it to be true, even though it is basically horrifying and sometimes tragic. For genre fans with a sense of movie history, it is just a gas. Highly recommended for smart viewers, Fury of the Demon had its North American premiere at this year’s Fantasia and will screen later in August during FrightFest in London.

SR ’15: The Challat of Tunis

There is plenty of mock in Kaouther Ben Hania’s hybrid-doc, but the attitudes it depicts are embarrassingly real. In 2003, an unknown assailant drove through the streets of Tunis, slashing the buttocks of women who were not sufficiently “modest” in their dress. One Arab Spring revolution later, the so-called Challat is still regarded as a cult hero by a significant number of Tunisians—all male and Muslim, of course. Ben Hania set out to find the slasher in a traditional documentary, but official road blocks forced her instead to make a true-in-spirit examination of the Tunisian national character in The Challat of Tunis (trailer here), which screens during the 2015 Socially Relevant Film Festival.

At least eleven women were attacked by the Challat. The “at least” caveat is important, because the Tunis police do not exactly encourage reports of sexual violence. If you suspect they might blame the victim, you don’t know the half of it, but Ben Hania saves their real life testimony for the final act. Most of the narrative is devoted to her semi-fictional pseudo-Michael Moore style search for the unpunished perpetrator. Circumstantial evidence points to an unemployed misogynist named Jalel Dridi, who adamantly takes credit for the slashings. Initially, he is quite convincing, but Ben Halia eventually starts to doubt some of the details of his story.

Let’s not sugarcoat it. There is something deeply pathological about a society in which people want to be known as violent criminals who prey on women. Dridi may might a fraud or an actor in a put-up job, but there are plenty of men-in-the-street responses to him that speak volumes about Arab Muslim attitudes towards women. For instance, one imam endorses his Challat video game, because it grants points for slashing disrespectfully dressed women, while deducting from players’ scores if the assault women in suitably oppressive garb.

Some of the comic bits are better developed than others, but they all reflect highly problematic social iniquities and double standards. Ben Halia even shows an aptitude for broad Apatow style comedy when Dridi buys a “Virgin-o-meter” to test his unlikely new girlfriend. However, the film really knocks the wind out of the audience when Ben Halia dispenses with her hype-real narrative to interview two of the Challat’s extraordinarily brave victims on camera. Their stories of lingering physical and emotional pain, as well as the humiliation they experienced at the hands of the police, make the blood run cold.

There are a wealth of telling moments to be found in Ben Halia’s street interviews, such the unusually candid coffee house patron who initially argues Muslim prejudices for the attacks, but walks it back as an “Arab” thing when his cronies object. Clearly, nobody (no man) in Tunisia wants to forthrightly deal with Challat attacks and the lasting cultural effects, which is why Ben Halia’s film is such a bold poke in the eye. It has some odd moments, but there is always method to her madness. Strongly recommended, The Challat of Tunis is by far the feature highlight of this year’s SRFF when it screens this Thursday (3/19) at the Tribeca Cinemas.

NYAFF ’10: Actresses

Behold the power of publicity. On Christmas Eve, six of Korea’s most popular actresses endure each other’s catty company during the long hours of a cover shoot for Vogue magazine. Such prices must be paid to maintain their celebrity status. While the documentary might be fictional, the professional rivalries seem quite real in E. J-yong’s Actresses (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Asian Film Festival.

These might be some of the bravest performances you will see on film. Since all six actresses play themselves, many will assume the insecurities and foibles on display truly reflect the actresses’ character. For instance, right from the get-go, it is clear Youn Yuh-jung, fictional or otherwise, will be trouble. Mortified to be the first to arrive, the acerbic diva keeps everyone on their toes. She is funny though.

Still a striking beauty at fifty, Lee Mi-suk is next in seniority, but appears to be the most at ease with herself, despite her self-deprecation. By contrast, thirty-something Ko Hyun-Jung seems like a bit of a mess, getting hammered on champagne and mixing it up with anyone who mentions her divorce to a Samsung heir.

The other three actresses are young and hot at the Korean box office. Choi Ji-woo, is not just big in Korea, she is an “Asian Star,” an important distinction, financially. Though truly a stunner, she comes across as a wee bit high maintenance. Probably the most recognizable to American audiences as the female lead in Park Chan-wook’s Thirst, Kim Ok-vin portrays herself as sweet but a bit spacey. Likewise, the trend-setting Kim Min-hee projects a similar image, if slightly less sweet and a bit more spacey.

Obviously, throwing together six superstars and their egos will produce some sparks. When technical difficulties prolong the tense shoot, look out. However, the famous actresses eventually find common ground through their shared experiences surfing the waves of celebrity. They might be famous, but they are still plenty human.

With its voyeuristic fly-on-the-wall perspective and its frequently biting dialogue, Actresses feels like a slick, glossy tell-all documentary shot by Robert Altman. Deliberately challenging genre boundaries, it is hard to parse how much mock is in the mockumentary. Fans of the fab six will be fascinated by this ostensibly candid look at their favorite stars. Yet for American audiences, it is still a provocative take on celebrity culture. The attractive cast (even including the magazine editor) should not hurt its international appeal either.

While there are plenty of “in” references that will probably be lost on mere mortals not thoroughly steeped in Korean cinema, the basic gist of Actresses is pretty universal. Indeed, it is fascinating to watch six major movie stars toy with their public images. Sure, there are risks in doing so, but as the film makes clear, it would be far worse to not be included in such an elite group. Ultimately they all fare rather well. Another shrewd programming departure for NYAFF, Actresses screens Saturday (7/3) and Monday (7/5) at the Walter Reade Theater, with special guest director E. J-yong in attendance.