RIFF ’25: Dream!

Santa Claus must prefer his St. Nick alter ego to an exclusionary extent, because he obviously overlooks children in countries that do not share the Christian tradition—or does he? A little Thai girl named Lek will learn the answer to that question, but it will take her nearly two and a half hours of screentime, as she journeys through eight provinces of Thailand in director-cinematographer Paul Spurrier’s Dream!, which screens today at the 2025 Rhode Island Film Festival.

After the tragic death of her first love, Lek’s mother found herself an unmarried mother, so she accepted Nin’s marriage proposal. In retrospect, that was a mistake, because the old abuse drunkard insists on drinking away any money she makes. When he raises his fist towards Lek, her mother dies protecting her. Wisely, escapes under the cover of night, carrying the only Christmas present she ever received: a one-legged hand-me-down doll, given to her by her school teacher.

For a vividly colorful movie-musical that takes clear audio and visual inspiration from Rogers-and-Hammerstein classics, Dream! veers into some surprisingly dark territory. As orphans go, Lek is especially piteous and vulnerable—and she isn’t even truly an orphan. Maybe she would be better off if she were. Nevertheless, as she treks through the strikingly scenic Thai countryside, her honesty teaches much needed lessons to many of the people she encounters.

For a while, the grotesquely entitled Namwaan “adopts” Lek as her first “friend,” but the younger girl shrewdly recognizes the spoiled princess really wants another servant. She later joins forces with a modern medicine man, until she discovers the truth of his snake oil scam.

In fact, Dream! is an incredible earnest musical fable deeply concerned with virtue and morality. However, the constant one-darned-thing-after-another rained down on poor little Lek starts to feel punishing, both for viewers and for her. Indeed, most audiences will emotionally invest in her, quickly and deeply. We and her just need more respite from the cruel travails of the world. The two-hour twenty-minute-plus running time will also challenge younger viewers.

Nevertheless, older patrons who share a nostalgia for the grand old movie-musical will appreciate the films bigness, starting with its throwback widescreen CinemaScope aspect-ratio. Mickey Wongsathapornpat’s score also sounds huge, in a show-stopper kind of way, but it could have used more intimate ballads for variety. However, the natural grandeur of the Thai landscape is often stunningly cinematic.

Ironically, genre film fans will recognize several cast-members, especially Vithaya Pansingarm, from A Prayer Before Dawn and Mechanic: Resurrection (among many others), who is both frighteningly nasty and sadly pathetic as abusive Nin. Many might also remember Sahajak Boonthanakit co-starring with Pansingarm in Mayhem! and Only God Forgives. This time around he plays a relatively good guy, Namwaan’s father, who appreciates Lek’s heartfelt decency, but maybe lacks the conviction to do something about it.

The Devil and the Daylong Brothers

When the Devil goes down South, he often enjoys the local Americana roots music. He tuned Robert Johnson’s guitar at the Crossroads and fiddled with Charlie Daniels. Logically, Robert Johnson was a particular inspiration for this blues-rock-flavored horror-movie-musical. Yes, this is a musical and it works. On the other hand, the deal a father made most definitely does not work for his three sons (from different mothers). He shook hands with Old Scratch, but they were the ones who were left to pay in Brandon McCormick’s The Devil and the Daylong Brothers, which releases this Friday in theaters and on VOD.

It was sort of Satanic child abuse when Nehemiah Daylong sold the souls of his future sons, Ishmael, Enoch, and Abraham, rather than his own. Understandably, the Daylong half-siblings rather resent his bargain. Facing damnation, they made their own deal with Clarence, a soul-collecting demon, filling his quota of similarly damned souls in exchange for their father’s location. Theoretically, if they kill him first, he takes their place, voiding their debt.

Unfortunately, trusting Clarence is rather foolish, as most viewers would expect. However, Frankie, a damned soul known to associate with infernal folk, might lead them to their troublesome father. Of course, as a femme fatale with demonic experience, she has a knack for exposing their weaknesses and offering temptations.

One of the titular characters never appears in the film, but the brothers rage and bicker together in almost every scene. As the Daylong trio, Brendan Bradley,  Nican Robinson, and Jordon Bolden are unnervingly fierce. They are also decent singers, thanks to some help from songwriter and music-and-film producer Nicholas Kirk. Some of the musical numbers feel more like 80’s music videos than Bollywood-style musicals, in that characters might initially breakout into song, but they do not always lip-synch the entire tune, but they mostly flow quite smoothly.

Spinning Gold, the Casablanca Records story

Every record label that means something to fans has a very distinctive style and sound, like Blue Note, Pacific Jazz, and Stax. That was certainly true of Casablanca Records too. They recorded Buddy Miles and Hugh Masekela, but they are best known for disco. Yet, their biggest, most profitable outlier was KISS, even though they took a while to catch on. Timothy Scott Bogart brings his father Neil’s tenure at the label to the big-screen as an ill-advised movie-musical in Spinning Gold, which opens today in New York.

Neil Bogart died at the premature age of 39, but he still tells his own story in his son’s musical memory play. He was born Neil Bogatz in Brooklyn, but he was eager to leave his modest roots behind. Music became his business, first as a one-hit teen idol and then as an executive for MGM and Buddah records, where he signed Gladys Knight and the Pips, the Isley Brothers, and Bill Withers, all of whom get more screen time in Spinning Gold than a lot of Casablanca artists, such as the Village People, Cher, and Lipps inc. (Considering the notorious reception for the Village People’s 1980 film, Can’t Stop the Music, maybe we shouldn’t blame T.S. Bogart for not tempting fate in that respect).

Fatefully, when Bogart struck out on his own with Casablanca, his distributor, Warner Music, tried to undercut their sales, so they started handling sales and distribution in-house, at least according to the film. They had three acts that would eventually be huge: KISS, Donna Summer, and George Clinton’s Parliament, but all three struggled with their initial releases.

It will be interesting to hear what KISS thinks of their portrayal in Spinning Gold. They might either dig it or hate it. It could go either way. Ledisi has a nice number as Knight (“Midnight Train to Georgia,” of course), but the scene of Bogart shouting and gyrating to the sounds of Edwin Hawkins’ choir (another Buddah signing) is pure cringe. At least it is rather amusing to watch Sebastian Maniscalco mumble through his scenes as producer-composer Giorgio Moroder, but Tayla Parx does not bear a strong resemblance to Donna Summer.

In a way, Spinning Gold is a lot like Cadillac Records, simply replacing Bogart’s relationship with Summer for that of Leonard Chess and Etta James. Bogart and Summer kept it professional, not counting her orgasmic “Love to Love You” session, another embarrassing cringe fest, but he rather openly carried on an affair with Joyce Biawitz, KISS’s co-manager, who seemed to have an office at Casablanca (presumably for the sake of convenience).

Fonseca is fine as Biawitz and Michelle Monaghan plugs away valiantly in the thankless role of Bogart’s thankless wife, Beth Weiss, but Jeremy Jordan (who was very good in Broadway's Bonnie & Clyde) dominates the film, in the worst way possible, preaching to the choir and projecting to the back balcony as Neil Bogart. His performance is exhaustingly showy. [Timothy Scott] Bogart desperately needed to tone him down, but instead, it looks like his direction consisted of texting “100%” emojis.

Spirited, on Apple TV+

Charles Dickens was a professional writer, so right now, he’s probably looking down from Heaven, wondering if he’s ever going to be paid all the royalties and licensing fees he’s due for A Christmas Carol. Disney, Looney Tunes, and Mr. Magoo all had their versions. Now its Apple’s turn. It is a musical this time around and sort of a sequel, but a lousy jerk still has to learn the real meaning of Christmas from three Christmas spirits in Sean Anders’ Spirited, which premieres tomorrow on Apple TV+.

Clint Briggs is a slimy PR-management consultant, who stokes social division for a living. As the manager of the elaborate Christmas-haunting division of the afterlife, Marley does not want to waste their time on Briggs, because he has been deemed irredeemable. However, Ghost of Christmas Present wants to take a shot at him, because he too was once considered irredeemable. If they convert him, the ripple effects will be enormous. There is even a ripple-themed song to drive the point home, but Marley reluctantly agrees, to prevent Present from singing it.

Briggs will be a really hard case. It turns out he is that annoying type of person who always turns questions back around on the asker, which Present is not used to. He is also thrown by Briggs’ regretful deputy, Kimberly, who inexplicably sees and interacts with him during his ghostly scouting trips. There might even be some chemistry there.

The world of the Christmas spirits is rather cleverly conceived, sort of like the visions of the after-life seen in films like Defending Your Life. Even in death, you cannot escape bureaucracy. It is indeed a musical, but many of the numbers are designed as comedic set pieces rather than show stoppers. Nevertheless, “The View from Here” is quite a lovely medium-tempo ballad. However, a way-too-extended gag and musical number suggesting “good afternoon” were fighting words in Dickensian times gets down-right cringy.

In general, the jokes are hit or miss, but Ryan Reynolds is consistently funny as Briggs. Frankly, he regularly upstages Will Ferrell, who is clearly falling back on his Buddy the Elf shtick. Still, Ferrell has nice chemistry with Octavia Spencer’s Kimberly, who is believably flawed, in a down-to-earth, human kind of way. Sunita Mani also livens up every scene as the oddly hip and youthful Past.

Cyrano, the Musical

Savinien de Cyrano de Bergerac, the real-life figure on whom Rostand’s hero was based, is considered one of the first science fiction writers. Depictions of him usually show a prominent but not extraordinarily large nose. Since Rostand presumably exaggerated a little, it seems fair for this new take on Cyrano de Bergerac to posit a different physical source for his romantic insecurities. His friend Le Bret gets away with the term “distinctive physique,” so we’ll use that too. Regardless, the swashbuckler is still quite handy with both words and sabers in Joe Wright’s Cyrano—by the way, it is also a musical—which opens today nationwide.

His nose is no longer conspicuous, but this is still Cyrano de Bergerac. Despite the changes of screenwriter Erica Schmidt’s adaption (based on the stage musical she also penned), this is still Cyrano, so you should know what that means. The roguish soldier excels at poetry and duels, but he quietly carries a torch for his cousin Roxanne, fearing she would reject him, because of his physique. Instead, he aids his doltish but handsome new colleague Christian de Neuvillette to woo her. This time around, his obvious rival, the Count de Guiche is much slimier and his interest in Roxanne is decidedly more exploitative. If you need a fuller refresher on Rostand’s original source material, check out the 1950 film starring Jose Ferrer (it streams on Tubi, Kanopy, and several other sites).

Frankly, Peter Dinklage might be the best de Bergerac since Ferrer. He has the right swaggering physicality. Whatever their preconceptions might be, viewers will buy into him as a formidable swordsman and dissolute carouser. It turns out Dinklage also has a pleasingly character-tinged baritone voice, vaguely reminiscent of Leonard Cohen. He is a great romantic hero, who pines hard and banters amusingly with Bashir Salahuddin, whose Le Bret is more memorable than most of his predecessors.

However, Hayley Bennett and Kelvin Harrison Jr. are both rather bland as Roxanne and Christian, even though their singing voices are quite nice. However, the always reliable Ben Mendelsohn is spectacularly sleazy and moustache-twistingly villainous as the nasty de Guiche. He is a piece of work, but that really raises the stakes and heightens the tension.

As for the tunes, they largely hit the same notes, over and over. Ironically, the most powerful and distinctive song (and the one that really sticks with you) does not feature any of the primary cast-members. Instead, “Wherever I Fall” is a number for the “chorus” that expresses the eve-of-battle thoughts of average rank-and-file soldiers as they face their impending mortality. The lyrics are genuinely moving and the performances (including Glen Hansard of Once as a guard) are pitch-perfect. In contrast, the rest of the tunes fit the mood well enough, but they all blend together.

Francis Ford Coppola’s Cotton Club Encore

When it was originally released, it nearly killed Francis Ford Coppola’s career—yet again, even though it was sufficiently well-received in the jazz world to win a Grammy for its soundtrack. Most frustratingly, the filmmaker knew it could have been great if the studio and producer Robert Evans hadn’t done so much to kill. Like the opposite of George Lucas, Coppola went back and fixed a lot of the problems (much like he recently did with The Godfather III), resulting in the director’s cut known as The Cotton Club Encore, which airs on Bounce TV.

In the late 1920s, Harlem’s Cotton Club featured African American talent on stage, but they are not allowed to enter the club as paying guests. This fact comes through loud and clear in the Encore cut. Delbert “Sandman” Owens and his brother Clay (clearly inspired by the Nicholas Brothers) have just been hired there as featured tap-dancers. Recently back in town, the scuffling white cornet player Michael “Dixie” Dwyer is naturally drawn there, but he will wish he had steered clear.

Dwyer has the questionable fortune of saving Dutch Schultz’s life. Regrettably, the gangster’s subsequent patronage quickly becomes controlling and emasculating. It is especially awkward when he orders the musician to accompany Vera Cicero, his not-so-secret mistress. The sexual tension between them is obvious and therefore quite dangerous. Meanwhile, Sandman Owens’ attempts to romance vocalist Lila Rose Oliver have been nearly as rocky. As a source of tension, the Cotton Club performer has been trying to pass for white, so she can accept more profitable work in downtown clubs.

Evans should have been ashamed of himself, because Coppola’s recut Cotton Club is a great film. It definitely provides more balance to both sides of the Club’s color line, which is clearly significant. It also fully restores entire musical numbers, which are terrific. (If you don’t see Lonette McKee’s rendition of “Stormy Weather,” as Oliver, you’re watching the wrong cut.) Their inclusion makes Encore a musical in the fullest sense. A number like Ellington’s “Creole Love Call,” performed by Priscilla Baskerville, expresses so much about the club’s place in Harlem. Likewise, McKee’s “Ill Wind” and “Stormy Weather” establish Oliver’s character far more than any dialogue.

Anyone who isn’t grinning from ear to ear after watching Gregory Hines lead a one-upping tap contest at the Hoofer’s Club needs serious anti-depressants. The closing fantasia of “Daybreak Express” is also a nifty piece of throwback movie musical magic. Perhaps the exception that proves the rule is the dramatic cross-cutting between Hines’ solo tap “improvography” [as the credits refer to it] and a climatic gangland hit.

Gregory and Maurice Hines were always the show-stoppers on-stage, but now their conflicted sibling relationship comes to satisfying fruition in Encore. In a deliberate irony, Dixie Dwyer and his wannabe gangster brother Vincent are denied that opportunity by their underworld entanglements. Yet, it is a lot of fun to see the crazy Nic Cage we know so well bubbling out of the manic Vincent (we can imagine his Uncle Francis begging him not to yell “top of the world, Mom!”). It is also good to see Richard Gere in the sort of matinee idol role he was meant to play, since his support for Tibet and the Dalai Lama has gotten him blacklisted from studio tent-poles (seriously Hollywood, he was in Chicago, Pretty Woman, and An Officer and a Gentleman). It should also be noted Larry Marshall is an absolutely spooky dead-ringer for Cab Calloway.

Veredas: Necropolis Symphony

It is a fundamental law of cinema that any attempt to disturb the rest of the dead will lead to bad karma. It is also a fundamental real-life law of urban living that real estate is scarce, so any under-utilized plots should be scooped up and exploited. The conflict between these two laws leads to serious trouble for an apprentice grave-digger in Juliana Rojas’s Necropolis Symphony, which screens during the new film series, Veredas: a Generation of Brazilian Filmmakers.

Thanks to fleeting mortality, grave-digging is steady work, but poor Deodato probably isn’t cut out for it. His elevated capacity for empathy constantly overwhelms him at grave sites, causing him to pass out. The director hired him as a favor to his Uncle Jaca, a longtime cemetery employee, but he is losing patience. Fortunately for Deodato, the boss has a job requiring the full-time services of an employee, whose day-to-day productivity won’t be missed.

Deodato will assist Jaqueline, a hot-shot trouble-shooter from the Funerary Board, who will be re-organizing the layout of the storied old graveyard. They need more spaces to put bodies—bodies with funeral-paying survivors. Families behind on the upkeep of their plots will be encouraged to move their loved ones to a drawer in the prospective new mausoleum. Jaqueline does not want to say it in so many words, but remains that are forgotten and abandoned will probably just end up in a bag. Despite his hopeless schoolboy crush, this just doesn’t seem right to Deodato. He’s not the only one who feels that way.

By the way, Necropolis Symphony is also a musical, with supernatural elements. In fact, many of the musical-numbers are laugh-out loud funny for those who are somewhat familiar with Brazilian popular song of the last twenty-years or so. For the unhip, the blend of music, bittersweet romance, and the undead is still ridiculously charming (and the songs are still pretty catchy). Compared to Anna and the Apocalypse, Necropolis is much more low-key, but the two films would still make an appealing double feature.

MSPIFF ’19: The Song of the Tree

This is the first movie musical to be produced by the nation of Kyrgyzstan, but it as archetypal as films get. There are two brothers, one of whom will make a prodigal return. Of course, there are also musical numbers and some striking mountainous vistas in Aibek Daiyrbekov’s The Song of the Tree, which screens during the 2019 Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival.

Esen is rash and a bit undisciplined, but he is not a bad lad. Unfortunately, Bazarbai, the clan headman, is dead-set against Esen’s romance with his daughter Begimai, even though they are very much in love. Instead, the shallow headman has been deceived into favoring the loutish Oguz, who has often bested Esen through cheating. It gets to be more than the hot-headed brother can stomach, so he tries to elope with Begimai. Unfortunately, Oguz and his lackeys track them down, bringing her back to her father and leaving Esen for dead—but not dead enough.

Alas, Bazarbai’s pride will definitely goeth before his fall. It will be hastened by the desecration of a sacred prayer tree. Initially, Ogun frames Esen’s brother Asan for its destruction and subsequently murders him to cover up his misdeeds. Yet, their livestock continues to die, so the clan banishes Bazarbai and his immediate family. Meanwhile, Esen learns how to fight and control his temper from a wandering warrior.

Like most movie musicals, the course of true love never runs smooth in Song of the Tree, but eventually fate will intervene. Esen will face up to his love and his rival—and sing a few songs. Even though there is a samey consistency of tone throughout the Song of the Tree songbook, these tunes are way more polished than most viewers might expect. Frankly, this film works just as well as a big screen book musical as did The Last Five Years or LesMiserables.

Although Esen is supposed to be our rooting interest, Omurbek Izrailov is upstaged and then blown off the boards by the more intriguing character of Bazarbai and Temirlan Smanbekov’s richer, more complex performance. Zholdoshbek Apasov’s music and Baktygal Choturova’s lyrics definitely exceed expectations. It all sounds quite expansive and heartfelt. Yet, it is cinematographer Akzhol Bkbolotov who really gets to put his stamp on the film, thanks to its wildly cinematic locations and backdrops. It looks and sounds terrific, so we can easily forgive its narrative predictability.

There probably hasn’t been this much singing around horses since the heyday of Gene Autrey and Roy Rogers. It also must have the record all to itself for musical numbers staged in yurts. Yet, it is all pretty universal and largely quite compelling. Recommended for fans of folkloric cinema and nontraditional musicals, The Song of the Tree screens this Sunday (4/7), Monday (4/15), and Tuesday (4/16), as part of this year’s MSPIFF.

Anna and the Apocalypse: Your New Christmas Tradition

We have the cure for Hallmark Christmas TV movies right here for you. It started life as a short film zombie spoof of the High School Musical franchise and its ilk, but adding Yuletide jolliness just makes it even richer. The songs are actually pretty good and the survival rate is on par with The Walking Dead (if not lower) in John McPhail’s instant classic Anna and the Apocalypse (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

Anna Shepherd is a smart Scots teen who wants to travel for a year after high school, rather than go straight into uni. That plan does not sit well with her protective widower father or John, her torch-carrying best pal helplessly mired in the friend-zone. Then on the night of her school’s Christmas talent show, the zombie apocalypse strikes. Anna and John are stuck at the bowling alley where they work, along with Steph, the school paper’s aspiring muckraker, and wannabe filmmaker Chris.

Meanwhile, Chris’s girlfriend Lisa, his grandma with a heart condition, and Anna’s school custodian dad are stuck at the school, where the authoritarian headmaster has instituted martial law. To save their loved ones, Anna and Chris will need some help from Nick, the cocky one-time hook-up she now regrets. Periodically, they will also break out into song.

Those musical numbers are really something too. Roddy Hart & Tommy Reilly’s tunes dramatically over-achieve. “Break Away” and “Hollywood Ending” are rousing openers, but they still drip with teen angst. “Turning My Life Around” would be a catchy anthem of self-empowerment, but it is performed as an extended site-gag by the ear-bud-wearing Anna and John, who are oblivious of the zombie attacks erupting around them, until the final bars. However, Lisa, Chris’s prima donna girlfriend gets the hands-down funniest number with the spectacularly suggestive “It’s that Time of Year.” Honestly, Marli Siu deserves serious awards consideration just for being able to perform it straight.

This is a very funny film, but its also weirdly poignant at times. Despite all the gore and goofiness, the young ensemble is so earnest, viewers cannot stop themselves from investing in them emotionally. Ella Hunt deserves to be the breakout star of the year for the charm and forcefulness of her star turn as Shepherd. Again, Siu is simply unforgettable as Lisa. Malcolm Cumming’s John is such an achingly nice sad sack, we just want to give him a chuck on the shoulder and a pep talk about more-fish-in-the-sea. Mark Benton keeps it real and grounded as her protective pa, while Ben Wiggins adds electric energy and bad boy charisma as Nick.

Technically, Apocalypse is a feature work-up of the late Ryan McHenry’s short film, Zombie Musical, but the jokes are more outrageous and the songs are more tuneful in McPhail’s film. It is a lot more than just another zombie spoof or just another goofy genre musical. Honestly, your new holiday tradition is here—and it is fun for the whole family. Very highly recommended, Anna and the Apocalypse opens today (11/30) in New York at the AMC Loews Lincolns Square uptown and the Regal Union Square downtown.

Contenders ’16: La La Land

It is easier to be scuffling in New York rather than Los Angeles, because you can do it without a car here. You are also more likely to find talented but gig-challenged jazz musicians in The City. However, Mia Dolan manages to run into Sebastian Wilder more frequently than either would prefer. At least, that is how it starts. Eventually, it evolves into something serious, but these things never last in LA, do they? The attractive couple will have to enjoy the music and the romance while it lasts in Damien Chazelle’s movie musical, La La Land (trailer here), which screens during MoMA’s Contenders series, in addition to seven hundred-some theaters nationwide.

Wilder is in a bad place. Recently, he has been torturing himself over the loss of a storied jazz club relaunched as a samba and tapas joint. He is also on the verge of losing his cocktail piano gig. Despite their bad starts, pursuing Dolan gives him some needed focus. Even though she already has a boyfriend, the well-heeled Greg Earnest will be no match for a revival screening of Rebel Without a Cause and a midnight excursion to Griffith Observatory. Wilder will even teach Dolan (and hopefully the rest of the audience) to appreciate jazz. Unfortunately, when Wilder goes on tour with his former smooth jazz nemesis, the time apart will put a strain on their relationship.

You have to give Chazelle credit for what he pulls off with La La Land. While his first crack at the genre, Guy and Madeline on a Park Bench was a very nice film, La La is the best original movie musical since maybe Umbrellas of Cherbourg, which is obviously a touchstone referential film for Chazelle. The film and the music composed by Justin Hurwitz (with lyricists Pasek and Paul) is just that good. Frankly, if “City of Stars” does not win the Oscar for best original song than the Academy must not have any ears whatsoever. “Stars” will be one for the Great American Songbook, but “Another Day of Sun” and “A Lovely Night” are also total winners.

But wait, there’s more—like Mandy Moore’s energetic yet stylishly old school choreography. She cleverly incorporates the traffic-bound cars in the opening flag-waving “Another Day of Sun” (beautifully shot by Linus Sandgren) and stages an awesomely ambitious third act fantasia, somewhat in the tradition of An American in Paris (both the film and the Broadway musical).

Even though he looks ten years older than Emma Stone’s Dolan (at least), Ryan Gosling convincingly broods and self-sabotages like a jazz musician. He also learned a heck of a lot of piano for the film, which is cool. Emma Stone is charming as Dolan, but she also conveys all the desperation and self-doubt plaguing the struggling actress. There is a great deal of chemistry between the two co-leads, as one might hope, since this is their third romantic pairing together.

Even though La La boasts a huge cast, very few of them register besides Stone and Gosling. Of course, there is no missing J.K. Simmons’ arch cameo as the club owner who fires Wilder (sort of a victory lap for his Whiplash Oscar). Likewise, John Legend is reasonably credible as Wilder’s sellout classmate. More importantly, legit jazz musicians Kevin Axt, Wayne Bergeron, Peter Erskine, Dan Higgins, Andy Martin, Bob Sheppard, and Graham Dechter keep the soundtrack real and sounding terrific as the La La Land Jazz Ensemble.

La La Land is as good as you’ve heard—maybe even better. It seems strange Chazelle’s under-seen Park Bench has not been reissued to capitalize, but maybe that will happen if Oscar comes calling. Regardless, it is terrific film that stays true to Chazelle jazz roots and his big screen musical influences. Very highly recommended, La La Land screens next Wednesday (1/4) as part of MoMA’s contenders and is now playing in New York, at the AMC Empire.

HiFF ’16: The Remnant

There will be no singing in the rain in this musical. The children have inherited the world, but it is a drought-parched post-apocalyptic wasteland. To survive, children work as slaves in provincial Chinese sweatshops, so it is not very different from today’s reality. However, one young woman will raise her voice against oppression and she might start inspiring others in Karmia Chan Olutade’s strange movie musical The Remnant (sample tune here), which screens during this year’s Harlem International Film Festival.

Adults either perished in the doomsday or locked themselves away in bunkers, leaving a lost generation of youngsters to fend for themselves. Tired of the crushing struggle to survive, Rumi and her brother Ty voluntarily admit themselves into an orphanage, only to learn it is an exploitative factory that reprocesses precious waste water. They must subsist on two handfuls of water each day and endure the abuse of their sell-out overseers. Despite the bleak prospects outside, Rumi is not inclined to put up with such servitude. On the other hand, Tokyo is a true millennial, who will not countenance talk of freedom, preferring the questionable safety of the meager but regular water drops provided by the factory.

So with a set-up like that, who feels like dancing? The Remnant has to be the most unlikely big screen musical of this or most any other year. Frankly, the symbolically charged staging might work better in a conventional theater setting. In terms of tone and visual aesthetics, think of it as three parts Brecht and one part Norman Jewison’s adaptation of Jesus Christ Superstar.

Although Olutade is certainly not shy about making her points, they still have tremendous resonance. We are talking about big themes here, like the power of faith and sacrifice and the temptation to opt for degradation and servitude rather than freedom and dignity. There are also clear parallels between the children of the water-reprocessing factory and the well-publicized cases of child labor in China today (Foxconn and the like). Sadly, there is no shortage of contemporary slavery in our pre-apocalyptic world.

The real problem with The Remnant is the one-note nature of the score. Like so many rock opera-y musicals, every number sounds more or less the same. Look, there is a reason why the classic book musicals still endure. Masters like Cole Porter knew how to mix up a program with flag-wavers, comic numbers, romantic ballads, and show-stoppers.

It is a shame all the tunes blend together musically, because these kids are just loaded with talent. Even though the mushy score isn’t particularly helpful, Kayla Cao gives a knockout, heart-breaking performance as Rumi. She also develops genuinely touching sibling chemistry with Tenzin Low’s enormously charismatic Ty that should pretty much wear down even the most resistant viewers. The entire ensemble is quite remarkable, with Sylvia “Niumao” Niu, Julian Chien, Julie Lee, Rendolm Qian, Asuka Kosugi, and Annika Tanner excelling in their solo spots. Just imagine what they could do with more distinctive tunes.

Despite the sameness of its sound, there is something disconcertingly compelling about the film’s vibe. We definitely care about these kids and quickly buy into their deliberately exaggerated world. In any event, if you ever wanted to see Solarbabies set to music, this is probably the closest you’ll ever get. Recommended on balance for its young talent, The Remnant screens this Saturday (9/17) at MIST, as part of the 2016 Harlem International Film Festival.

London Road: The Not Really Verbatim Musical

Sometimes innovative musical theater swings for the fences and knocks the ball out of the part, as happened with Hamilton. Other times, maybe you really just need to see it on stage. Presumably, that must be the case for Alecky Blythe’s “verbatim” musical dramatizing the Ipswich community response to the arrest and prosecution of a serial killer in their midst. Verbatim in this context means the word-for-word transcriptions of interviews and media reports as they were spoken, but duly manipulated to make the speakers sound as petty and narrow-minded as possible. The good people of Ipswich endure another media feeding frenzy in Rufus Norris’s adaptation of London Road (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Before the Ipswich Ripper case, the London Road area was a respectable working class neighborhood with middle class pretensions (Brexit country). It used to be the sort of place you could feel safe raising a family, but the construction of a new stadium changed traffic patterns and brought street walkers into the residential district (literally right in front of their homes). Longtime denizens understandably resented the intrusion, which inevitably colored their response to the brutal murders. Blythe and co-lyricist Adam Cork clearly took pains to cherry pick every “had it coming to them” quote, doing their best to cast the residents as callous moralizers. That is an easy position to take if you live in a coop on Central Park West or a tony flat in the Barbican district. However, anyone who has worried about property values as they worked like a mule to pay their mortgage will take a more forgiving view.

One thing is certain. London Road confirms the greatness of songwriters like Ira Gershwin, Johnny Mercer, Cole Porter, Yip Harburg, and Dorothy Fields, because it proves memorable lyrics do not “just happen.” Frankly, none of the verbatim libretto rings with either profundity or musicality. Nor is there any natural rhythm to the stray extracts Cork set to music, which gives them all a rather plodding sameness. Good luck trying to hum any of these selections. They are also completely unfair to the neighborhood residents. How would like your awkward words of greeting at a community board meeting set to music and repeated dozens of times over, in the most unflattering manner possible? That’s exactly what happens to poor Julie, the chair, played by Olivia Colman at her iciest.

Throughout London Road, Norris never shows any of the murders or even a whisker on the back of the murderer Steve Wright’s neck. Ironically, that leads to a weird moral equivalency, in which the “good riddances” of Julie and company are as bad or worse than Wright’s murderers, because at least he wasn’t too snobby to mix with his victims. Arguably, this is the most off-key musical since Bialystock & Bloom produced Springtime for Hitler. Not recommended, not even for the novelty cameo of Tom Hardy as a singing cabbie, London Road opens this Friday (9/9) in New York, at the Village East.

Bang Bang Baby: the Mutants of Lonesome Pines Sing the Blues

The Top! Few crooners made it, because Bobby Shore pretty well had the big time teen idol racket sewn up. But from the North, there was a talented ingénue vocalist—and she had a dream. Perhaps all that didn’t make any sense to you, but it seems like a new Canadian retro sci-fi musical would dearly love to be compared to Jonathan Paizs’ Crime Wave, so there you have it. Of course, it cannot possibly match the indescribably bizarre vibe of Paizs’ cult classic, because how could it? Regardless, there ought to be more lunacy in Jeffrey St. Jules’ Bang Bang Baby (trailer here), which releases today on VOD.

Stepphy Holiday has the golden voice and the innocent look to go far, but she is stuck in Lonesome Pines, her nowheresville Canadian small town. She wanted to compete in a New York talent show, but her drunken codependent father wouldn’t let her leave. However, things might work out for the best when heartthrob Bobby Shore and his very German manager Helmut find themselves stranded in Lonesome Pines (but don’t count on it).

Like clockwork, Shore starts romanticizing Holiday and making her big career promises. Her embarrassing father is a bit of stumbling block, but they could probably work around him. Unfortunately, the town-wide mutations resulting from a chemical spill at the local planet will be a different matter. Rather awkwardly, Holiday will become macabrely preggers when she has no reason to be. On the other hand, it will probably be the best opportunity the torch-bearing Fabian will ever have to win her over.

BBB sounds like absolute lunacy, but St. Jules’ execution is not nearly as off-the-hook crazy as it should be. Frankly, he seems to have fallen in love with these characters, because he spends a disproportionate amount of time on their hopes, dreams, and personal relationships, while hardly ever showing us any mutants. Playing it straight is a defensible strategy, but he still needs to bring the madness. Instead, BBB just feels restrained.

Nonetheless, Jane Levy deserves credit for her lead vocals and her earnest energy. Justin Chatwin’s Shore comes across like a refugee from a 1990s John Waters movie, but that’s not necessarily wrong. As Helmut, Kristian Bruun cranks the exaggerated German accent up to eleven in a performance that is refreshingly unrepentant in its snottiness, but Peter Stormare is largely underemployed as the self-pitying George Holiday.

The songs of BBB are surprisingly polished and era-appropriate, but none of them are particularly memorable. It is still impressive St. Jules was able to stage an entirely original movie musical. Nice, but not the knockout punch you’re hoping for, Bang Bang Baby is now available on most VOD platforms, including iTunes.

Japan Society Monthly Classic: Carmen Comes Home

It will be a clash of small town and big city values—and boy, will the small town enjoy it. The prodigal daughter once known as Kin Aoyama apparently found fame and fortune dancing in Tokyo under the name Lily Carmen. She is an artiste, but her art involves G-strings. That does not mean she and her comrade Maya Akemi can’t be scrupulously serious about their dance. They are indomitably upbeat, but their visit might be more than her staid father can handle in Keisuke Kinoshita’s big screen musical Carmen Comes Home (trailers here), the very first Japanese color feature, which screens this Friday at the Japan Society, as part of their newly re-launched Monthly Classics series.

Even if Carmen/Aoyama has not amassed a fortune per se, she has made enough of a go of it to periodically send money and gifts home to her family. Her loyal sister Yuki is in awe of her, but old man Shoichi Aoyama instinctively distrusts the modern western influences she has no doubt absorbed. However, thanks to the intercession of the school principal, an ardent advocate for Japanese culture, he reluctantly consents to her visit. Nobody could miss Lily Carmen when she arrives. She is the one wearing the bright red dress. Clearly, Kinoshita was going to get his color film’s worth from the wardrobe and spectacular mountain scenery.

Naturally, Carmen and Akemi attract all kinds of attention in town, including the leering local mogul. Yet, the two women are more drawn to more plebeian townsmen, like the young school teacher Akemi impulsively falls for. Similarly, Carmen admits she still carries a torch for the now married Haruo Taguchi, who was blinded during the war. As the composer of dirge like odes to his small town, Taguchi is more in line with the Principal’s idea of a real Japanese artist. Unfortunately, Carmen and Akemi’s va-va-voom will inadvertently disrupt Haruo’s grand premiere performance, causing no end of angst.

Hideko Takamine was one the greatest screen actresses in the history of cinema, but she is best known for achingly tragic films like Mikio Naruse’s When a Woman Ascends the Stairs and Yearning, as well as Kobayshi’s The Human Condition, so it is nice to see her get the chance to kick up her heels a little. She is utterly charming as the bizarrely naïve Lily Carmen. Yet, underneath the goofy joy, she gives the subtlest hints of sadness. Nobody else could have pulled that off.

In a way, Carmen Comes Home is like a cross between Oklahoma and Gypsy, with all their slow or maudlin parts discarded. Still, it is clear Carmen and Akemi can never really go home again. The men will only see them as sex objects and the women will fear them as rivals. Despite their pluck and verve, it is ultimately quite a bittersweet film, but that is what makes it so distinctive, along with Takamine’s endearing performance. Recommended for fans of Takamine and movie musicals, the freshly restored Carmen Comes Home screens this Friday (9/4) and look for Go Takamine’s Paradise View in early October (10/2), as part of the Japan Society’s Monthly Classics series.

Patch Town: Dystopian Doll People

It will confirm the suspicions of parents who survived the Cabbage Patch riots of the early 1980s to learn those dolls were part of an evil scheme. Technically, these moppets are not called “Cabbage Patch Kids,” but the resemblance is striking. In all fairness, said dolls are all sweetness and innocence, but they come from a sinister factory. They are also flesh-and-blood, most of the time. One such doll will try to escape his evil overlord in Craig Goodwill’s self-consciously strange Patch Town (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Once upon a time, so to speak, Gregor, a well-meaning but short-sighted Russian inventor discovered there were real babies growing in his cabbage patch. He tried to adopt each and every one of them, causing considerable resentment with his biological son Yuri, but the volume was too great for him. Logically, he invented a machine that temporarily transformed the babies into dolls that were subsequently sent out into the world until they can be safely reclaimed. Tragically, Gregor soon dies, leaving the leaf babies entrusted to the cruel Yuri (a.k.a. Child Catcher). Yuri does indeed retrieve the dolls as the little girls they were entrusted to grow and forget about childish things, forcing the re-animated cherubs to toil in his Orwellian doll factory.

Jon and Mary are two such doll prols. They are timid by nature, yet they still managed to adopt a little baby girl, in clear violation of Patch Town law, because they are so full of love. When Yuri ominously sniffs them out, the terrified new parents have to make a break for our world. During the escape coordinated by Sly, the dodgy people trafficker and part-time department store Santa’s elf, Jon’s repressed memories come flooding back. He becomes convinced Bethany, the little girl he knew as his “mother” can help if he can find her.

So yeah, Patch Town sounds like a cult film to beat the band, which is why it is so annoying that it never takes flight. Did we mention it is also a musical? It sort of is, but you will be hard-pressed to remember any of the tunes. The film apparently assumes the very fact that they are there is enough. Goodwill’s screenplay, co-written with Christopher Bond and Trevor Martin is even more problematic. Despite the strange universe they create, the narrative follows a disappointingly predictable pattern, with learning moments inserted in exactly the spots screenwriting handbooks say they should go.

With their rosy cheeks, Rob Ramsey and Stephanie Pltiladis look perfect as Jon and Mary, but they are wilting roses on the screen. As Yuri (and Gregor), Julian Richings looks like he is trying to bulge his eyes so far out, he might have a stroke at any time. At least Zoie Palmer stays grounded and shows a respectable range as Jon’s grown mother, Bethany. Still, Suresh John’s Sly is the real saving grace, cutting through the film’s self-seriousness and heavy-handed messaging with tartly delivered sarcasm.

Patch Town is definitely a kitchen sink movie, but somehow Goodwill forgot to cram in the fun. The design team created an impressive looking dystopian urban fantasy world, but the confused anti-corporate soapboxing and blatant manipulation grow tiresome. It is the sort of film that looks so promising cult cinema connoisseurs will still want to judge it for themselves when it opens tomorrow (6/5) in New York, at the Cinema Village (but We Are Still Here should be a much higher priority).

The Last Five Years: Off-Broadway Goes Big Screen

The title of Jamie Wellerstein’s bestselling debut novel sounds nauseatingly pretentious, but Light Out of Darkness happens to be a hat tip to Sondheim’s Merrily We Roll Along, so all is forgiven. Regardless, his remarkable early success will put strain on his marriage to a would-be Broadway actress. We know it will not last, because he walks out in the first scene. We will subsequently see how it all unraveled in Richard LaGravenese’s adaptation of Jason Robert Brown’s Off-Broadway musical, The Last Five Years (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Wellerstein is leaving and it looks like he is never coming back. Cathy Hiatt is obviously devastated, but it gives her the first opportunity to show her range with the nakedly revealing feature spot, “Still Hurting.” There is more to this story than first appears. Wellerstein was once reasonably in love with Hiatt. It was he who first suggested they live together, before he eventually proposed. Yet, Wellerstein’s immediate success caused friction. Yes, it brought him into close proximity of literary groupies and trampy editorial assistants, but it is really caused more of a psychological disconnect between the brashly confident Wellerstein and the increasingly despondent Wellerstein née Hiatt.

Although the original stage production somewhat resembled Love Letters in its stripped down, dueling song-and-monologue structure, LaGravenese opens it up quite nicely. He brings it out onto the streets of New York and transforms the musical numbers into dramatic exchanges.

Frankly, the real issue with LFY is common to many new book musicals today. You might consider it the Rent effect. There simply is not enough emotional diversity to the score. Each number requires the cast to start at practically a crescendo level, maintaining the notes and the soul-baring wails. Even the show’s “novelty song,” “Shiksa Goddess” requires Wellerstein to belt out at the top of his lungs. It is more effective when a show goes up and down the scale. Give us some slow groovers and easy loopers, but with catchy melodies. Then hit us with the show-stopper.

Be that as it may, Anna Kendrick and Jeremy Jordan do everything that is asked of them and then some. As a veteran of Broadway (the way better than you’ve heard Bonnie & Clyde) and Smash, Jordan exhibits the chops you would expect, but the strength and clarity of Kendrick exceeds the expectations established by Pitch Perfect and her Tony nomination for High Society at the precocious age of twelve. They also have appealing chemistry together in the early days and convincingly push each away during the later bad times. Together, they make the arc of the relationship feel true.

Much of LFY’s narrative context and on-screen communication is delivered through song, often giving it a rock opera-ish vibe. Necessarily, one song often leads into another, reinforcing the samey-ness of the score. Nevertheless, Wellerstein’s climatic “If I Didn’t Believe in You” stands out as a dramatic equalizer, largely regaining the audience sympathy he lost in the opening scenes. Cinematographer Steven Meizler makes it all sparkle in a way that subtly evokes the big colorful Golden Age musicals, but in a way the still feels contemporary. If you like the sound of most post-Rent Broadway musicals that are not period productions, LaGravenese’s adaptation should be like catnip. For the rest of us, the two leads manage to carry the day through sheer gumption. Recommended for fans of movie musicals, The Last Five Years opens this Friday (2/13) in New York, at the Village East.

Stage Fright: Break a Leg, Campers

These drama camp kids might as well learn the hard truths of show business at an early age. They will watch as the seniors deal with the casting couch, a manipulative producer, and a psycho-stalker. Nonetheless, they keep singing and dancing all the way through Jerome Sable’s musical horror mash-up, Stage Fright (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

The Haunting of the Opera would have been a triumph for its star-diva Kylie Swanson, had she not been brutally murdered by a knife wielding maniac dressed as the Phantom after her opening night performance. It’s a setback. Roger McCall, Swanson’s producer and one-time lover takes in her young children, Camilla and Buddy, but falls on hard times after the show’s closing. He tries to make a go of it as the director of the Center Stage Camp for Performing Arts, where the siblings work as kitchen staff. Yet, despite a loyal student body, the camp is teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.

In a last ditch comeback attempt, McCall decides to stage the Andrew Lloyd Weber-ish Haunting as their annual production. In violation of camp policy, Camilla auditions for her mother’s part. Naturally, she nails it, but she will still have to finesse the lecherous student director. News of her involvement even attracts the interest of a career-making producer, but once again a psycho in a Phantom mask starts carving up cast-members. Yet, the show will go on, don’tcha know.

Sable and musical collaborator Eli Batalion were team behind the musical horror short The Legend of Beaver Dam, which is rather amusing, largely because the brief format allows it to just hit-it-and-quit-it without a lot of phony drama. Frankly, Sable might be too pre-occupied with the psychological angst. Yes, character development is generally a good thing, but Camilla’s little orphan complex is not very deep or compelling. Yet, it takes space that could otherwise be used for gory gags.

None of the individual tunes are particularly memorable either, but they are performed by the cast and company with admirable conviction. Fright will probably hold considerably more novelty appeal for midnight movie fans outside of New York, because we can see legit stage productions in this spirit Off-Broadway and Off-Off-Broadway fairly regularly. (In fact, it might have helped Sable to have someone like Rachel Klein on-board as a consultant or whatever.)

Still, when Fright goes all in, Grand Guignol style, it is a pretty awesome spectacle. Essentially, the opening and closing deliver on its promise, whereas the long midsection merely serves to get us from here to there. For Rocky Horror fans, it also has Meat Loaf (Aday) singing and thesping as McCall. While her character is not long for the world, Minnie Driver dies great in the prologue. Unfortunately, the twentysomething cast playing teenagers are largely undistinguished. Arguably, the best numbers feature the full company rather than the solo spotlights.

The film has its moments, but there should be more subversive glee, so to speak. Recommended eventually as a VOD or DVD pick for horror fans who do not have a lot of genre theaters options in their hometowns, Stage Fright opens today (5/9) in New York at the Cinema Village.

NYAFF '13: The Rooftop

That’s right, “Wax” is the word.  Named for his hair styler, Wax is a singing kung fu motorcycle gang member, who is out to win the heart of the innocent ingénue.  There will be dancing, fighting, and swooning in Jay Chou’s The Rooftop (trailer here), the closing night film of the 2013 New York Asian Film Festival (and also part of the Well Go USA spotlight), which opens theatrically in New York this Friday.

Wax and his bowling biker buds live in the Rooftop section of Galilee, under the shadow of the huge outdoor billboards.  They do not mind the scenery though.  In fact, they are rather fond of the one featuring Starling, a budding starlet and supermodel.  Wax’s three stooges, Tempura, Egg, and Broccoli refer to her as “Sister-in-Law” to needle the big smitten lug.  Everyone assumes nothing will ever come of his impossible crush until the day Wax picks up some part-time stuntman work getting the snot beat out of him on the set of her next picture.

Of course, she notices him.  As their chaste courtship heats up, William (the one-named), Starling’s mobbed-up movie star patron, contrives to sabotage their romance.  We know he is bad news because he is an associate of Red, one of Tempura’s unfriendly rent-collecting rivals working for the corrupt housing authority.  That’s right, some of the villains are Taiwanese HUD bureaucrats, albeit decidedly more flamboyant than our homegrown variety.

For his second outing in the director’s chair, pop idol and action super-star Chou channels his inner Baz Lurhmann, unleashing a kaleidoscope of colors and staging big flashy, razzle-dazzling musical numbers. Clearly, not afraid of a little sentiment, Chou indulges one big melodramatic set piece, after another.  One minute Wax and Starling are strolling through a carnival, next they are dancing in the rain, and shortly thereafter they stare into each other eyes in his quaint rooftop neighborhood as fireworks explode in the background.  It’s all good.

Chou and the radiant Li Xinai look like an attractive couple and develop some half decent romantic chemistry together.  She even does some legit acting in her own scenes. However, the crafty old HK vet Eric Tsang often steals the show as Dr. Bo, the lads’ martial arts mentor and local snake oil salesman.  Alan Ko also has his moments as Tempura, the enforcer trying to go straight.  Unfortunately, the shticky comic relief delivered by Egg and Broccoli becomes embarrassing over time.

Still, Rooftop has a few gags that will have viewers laughing in spite of themselves.  Truly, this is kitchen sink filmmaking.  Chou throws it all in, including a way over the top framing device.  Yet, Mark Lee Ping Bin, considered one of the world’s finest cinematographers for his work on films like Norwegian Wood, makes it all look bright and sparkly.  If you want spectacle, Chou has your spectacle right here.  Recommended for those who thought The Great Gatsby was too staid and did not have enough martial arts, The Rooftop officially closed this year’s NYAFF last night, but will open this Friday (7/19) in New York at the AMC Empire.

Hunky Dory: Shakespeare Glammed-Up

Remember those high school teachers so desperate to be popular they insisted everyone call them by their first name?  Viv is not quite that bad, but she is obviously uncomfortable serving as an authority figure.  Although she has given up on her acting career, the new drama teacher still has not quite worked the show business out of her system.  As a result, she plans an ambitious glam-rock production of Shakespeare’s The Tempest in Marc Evans’ period high school musical, Hunky Dory (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

The 1970’s were not such a bad decade for music as people might recall—at least until white leisure suits and strobe lights hit the scene.  David Bowie is a prime example of the era’s good stuff and Hunky Dory might just be his best album.  Naturally, “The Man who Sold the World” shows up in Vivienne Mae’s production (familiar to many thanks to Nirvana’s Unplugged cover) and “Life on Mars?” (again, a popular choice).  It is a shame though that he did not offer “Kooks” because it would have been perfect thematically for this Welsh tale of teen love, angst and music.  On the other hand, several ELO tunes are along for the ride, which is cool.

The year is almost over, but “Viv” wants the seniors’ last big show to have special meaning for them.  Music will play a major role.  Bowie, ELO, and Beach Boys tunes will all factor into her musical version of The Tempest.  Unfortunately, her afterschool rehearsals have major competition from the local swimming pool (“the lido”) and general teenaged hook-ups.  One by one, cast members drop out, most notably her sensitive but disturbed Caliban.  Eventually, she is forced to recruit the headmaster to play Prospero.  Of course, the show always goes on, even when apparent disaster strikes.

We are honest-to-Betsy assured Evans and his producer were working on this concept well before Glee came around.  Fine, but comparisons will be inevitable.  In truth, Hunky stacks up rather well.  To its credit, it avoids preaching politics, except perhaps for the hammer & sickle clearly visible in the assembly hall mural.  Dude, what’s up with that?

As Viv, Minnie Driver is relentlessly likable and resilient in the face of life’s bummers.  She is pretty much right on target for a lightweight musical soap opera.  One of the film’s nice surprises is the sympathetic treatment of Bob Pugh’s headmaster, an old military veteran who turns out to be far more kind hearted and understanding than we initially expect.  His deepening professional relationship with Viv is one of the film’s more pleasant subplots.  However, the teen drama is pretty standard issue (the closeted Bowie fanatic, the sensitive working class kid spurned by the school princess, the garage band struggling to stay unified, etc, etc).

Evans (who previously helmed Patagonia, the UK’s best foreign language submission two Oscars ago) stylishly stages the climatic pageant.  The kids’ “Life on Mars?” is particularly cinematic.  Frankly, the Hunky Dory Orchestra consistently sounds full bodied and rather groovy.  The resulting cumulative impact is appropriately bittersweet and nostalgic.  Modest but endearingly earnest, Hunky Dory wears its niceness on its sleeve.  Moderately recommended for children of the 1970’s out for a trip down memory lane, Hunky Dory opens this Friday (3/22) in New York at the AMC Village VII.