Dope Thief, on Apple TV+

In 2021, a couple of Philly ex-con lunkheads like Ray Driscoll and Manny Carvalho do not have many opportunities for gainful employment while the world slowly rouses from the COVID shutdown. Conveniently, there was one business that did not observe closure mandates: drug trafficking. Posing as DEA agents, the duo shakedown marginal drug houses not affiliated with the major cartels. However, Covid still wreaked havoc on the illicit supply chains nearly as much as it did for legal trade. Consequently, when Driscoll and Carvalho unknowingly knock over a big-time meth lab, it ignites a whole lot of trouble for the product-hungry gang and even more so for themselves in creator Peter Craig’s eight-episode Dope Thief, which premieres today on Apple TV+.

Driscoll is in denial, but Carvalho recognizes this is what they do. They are not Robin Hoods. Shadowy Son Pham put them in business with fake DEA badges and bullet proof vests. They keep the cash and he flips the drugs they “confiscate.” It usually works out well, until Carvlho’s recently released friend Ricky suggests a score way outside their usual territory.

It soon becomes evident Ricky set them up when their fake bust turns into a blood bath. Driscoll and Carvalho shoot several meth heads in self-defense, including, rather awkwardly, an undercover Fed. They thought they’d also killed Mina, another undercover agent, but somehow, she slipped away, with a bullet lodged in her throat. Unfortunately, they cannot interrogate Ricky, who also took a fatal bullet. Even worse, the sinister mastermind who keeps calling Driscoll clearly knows who they are—and who they care about.

For Driscoll, that only means Theresa Bowers, his jailbird father Bart’s tough-talking girlfriend, who has raised Ray like a son. He pretends to hate his incarcerated dad, but his feelings are clearly more conflicted than he lets on. He even agrees to work with Michelle Taylor, a pro bono lawyer trying to secure Bart’s compassionate release, at Bower’s request. He will probably need her services, as the cartels, biker gangs, and the real DEA all start circling him.

Dope Thief starts off with a bang. Perhaps not so coincidentally, the first episode also happens to be directed by executive producer Ridley Scott. Frankly, he probably should have adapted Dennis Tafoya’s source novel as a feature film. Episodes one and two are gritty and tense, but the middle installments are bloated and sometimes even a little aimless. The entire subplot focusing on Mina’s recovery and quest for not exactly revenge but something sort of like that clearly feel like padding—even though Marin Ireland is quite good in the role. These detours just take the audience too far away from Driscoll and the ominous voice (who sometimes falls silent for full episodes).

On the other hand, Dustin Nguyen is a shockingly quiet scene-stealer, who often upstages his flashier co-stars as Pham, the suburban family-man gangster, whose complicated relationship with Driscoll incorporates both loyalty and exploitation.  As Driscoll, Brian Tyree Henry develops terrific chemistry with multiple cast members, definitely including Nguyen. Yet, his work alongside the wonderful Kate Mulgrew, as Bowers, really gives the series a lot of heart. This is really some of Mulgrew’s best work yet.

Shining Girls, on Apple TV+

The immortal body-possessing serial killer in Fallen often teased Denzel Washington by humming “Time is on My Side.” That is even more true for this killer. He always knows what his victims will do, because he already watched them do it. Kirby Mazrachi was the one victim who lived to report it. Her name was different then, but she legal changed it. That was the only alteration to her reality that she initiated. Somehow, she is linked to her time-traveling stalker in Silka Luisa’s eight-episode Shining Girls, adapted from Lauren Beukes’ novel, which premieres today on Apple TV+.

Mazrachi constantly writes the details of her life in a notebook, because they frequently change. One day, she lives with her rocker mother Rachel, and then suddenly they are estranged. Her desk in the basement research department of The Chicago Sun-Times constantly moves on her. Sometimes she has a dog named Grendel, other times it is a cat. The disorienting phenomenon started after she survived the vicious slasher attack.

Obviously, Mazrachi has never been able to put the nightmare behind her, so when another woman is killed under similar circumstances, she starts investigating. Reluctantly, she becomes a source for Dan Velazquez, an alcoholic reporter at the paper. Together, they discover an inexplicable pattern. Objects found at the crime scenes link several unsolved homicides over a span of decades, even though some of those items refer to places and events that did not happen yet. Mazrachi had hers too—a matchbook for a non-existent bar.

Shining Girls is an example of the sort of book that could only really be properly adapted during the current streaming boom. Luisa takes the time to let us experience multiple shifts in Mazrachi’s reality, which pays-off later when viewers see the implications of those shifts. Although the time travel itself is basically a fantastical device rather than something with a science fictional explanation, Shining Girls still represents some of the smartest and most character-driven time travel programming, since Needle in a Timestack.

Elisabeth Moss is terrific as Mazrachi. She is credible and compelling freaking-out, without visibly freaking-out, while also struggling to take charge of her shifting reality. Wagner Moura is also entertainingly grungy and boozy as Velazquez (who now happens to be Brazilian in the series, you can even see him wearing an Os Mutantes t-shirt).

Sergio, the Netflix Movie (English & Portuguese Reviews)

(You can find a Portuguese translation below the following English review, courtesy of Angelica Sakurada. The Portuguese is hers. Any controversial opinions are entirely my own.)

It was not exactly the United Nation’s finest hour when it tapped China to join its Human Rights Council, despite its dismal record of press censorship, cultural genocide in East Turkestan, and the continuing oppression of religious worship (plus, they made whistleblowers in Wuhan disappear during the early days of the current global pandemic). Hypocrisy and corruption have long been rife throughout the UN bureaucracy, especially during the days of Kofi Annan’s administration. The one shining exception was Brazilian diplomat Sergio Vieira de Mello. He had the unique distinction among his UN peers for actually brokering equitable peace deals, but he was tragically killed by the Al-Qaeda faction that evolved into ISIS. After chronicling Vieira de Mello’s story in documentary form, Greg Barker retells it in the narrative feature simply-titled Sergio, which starts streaming this Friday on Netflix (after premiering at this year’s Sundance).

Vieira de Mello opposed the Iraq War—a fact Barker and screenwriter Craig Borten clearly do not want us to forget. In fact, they revel in his disagreements with Paul Bremer, the Administrator of the Coalition Provisional Authority of Iraq. Alas, it is no spoiler to mention the titular diplomat was killed during his Baghdad posting, because Barker uses it as a narrative device, flashing backwards to happier times, while U.S. Sergeants Bill von Zehle and Andre Valentine, firemen in civilian-life, struggle to unearth Vieira de Mello and his colleague, Gil Loescher, from the precarious rubble. Obviously, the prognosis looks bad.

Those better days include Vieira de Mello’s tenure as the UN’s Transitional Administrator for East Timor, where he negotiated the new nation’s peaceful independence from Indonesia. East Timor is also where the divorced High Commissioner meets Carolina Larriera, a micro-finance expert, who becomes his lover and UN colleague. Unfortunately, such distractions cause Vieira de Mello to neglect his sons. Indeed, family time is rare and awkward for the diplomat (sadly, a big pot of delicious shrimp moqueca is neglected during a short-lived family reunion).

Sergio’s biases are blatantly obvious, but they still probably could have been worse. Arguably, Bradley Whitford’s cartoonish portrayal of the nebbish Bremer as cynical villain is the most egregious aspect of the film. On the other hand, it forthrightly depicts the heroic efforts of von Zehle and Valentine to save Sergio and Loescher. It is worth noting von Zehle served as a technical advisor, which is a major reason why the rescue sequences are so tense and realistic.

Borten’s screenplay readily admits Vieira de Mello’s decision to evict the U.S. forces guarding the UN’s headquarters in Iraq left it directly vulnerable to terrorist attack. However, for some dubious reason, it omits al-Zarqawi’s cited motivation for the bombing in his statement of responsibility: the East Timor deal that result in a net loss of territory controlled by the Islamic Caliphate—in that case the Indonesian government.

As a film, Sergio moves along at a good pace and convincingly recreates the major events of his time, even though Barker and lead actor Wagner Moura are transparently mindful of protecting Vieira de Mello’s reputation throughout the film. They show some self-doubt and human weakness, but just enough to provide an opportunity for redemption. Ana de Armas is pretty believable expressing frustration with his workaholism and commitment phobia, but the character is largely defined in relationship to him.

Sundance ’20: Sergio

It was not exactly the United Nation’s finest hour when Turkey was tapped to co-chair the human rights committee that accredited NGO’s, despite its dismal record of press censorship and oppression of the Kurds. Hypocrisy and corruption have long been rife throughout the UN bureaucracy, especially during the days of Kofi Annan’s administration. The one shining exception was Brazilian diplomat Sergio Vieira de Mello. He had the unique distinction among his UN peers for actually brokering equitable peace deals, but he was tragically killed by the Al-Qaeda faction that evolved into ISIS. After chronicling Vieira de Mello’s story in documentary form, Greg Barker retells it as the Netflix-produced narrative feature Sergio, which premiered at the 2020 Sundance Film Festival.

Vieira de Mello opposed the Iraq War—a fact Barker and screenwriter Craig Borten clearly do not want us to forget. In fact, they revel in his disagreements with Paul Bremer, the Administrator of the Coalition Provisional Authority of Iraq. Alas, it is no spoiler to mention the titular diplomat was killed during his Baghdad posting, because Barker uses it as a narrative device, flashing backwards to happy times, while U.S. Sergeants Bill von Zehle and Andre Valentine, firemen in civilian-life, struggle to unearth Vieira de Mello and his colleague, Gil Loescher, from the precarious rubble. Obviously, the prognosis looks bad.

Those better days include Vieira de Mello’s tenure as the UN’s Transitional Administrator for East Timor, where he negotiated the new nation’s peaceful independence from Indonesia. East Timor is also where the divorced High Commissioner meets Carolina Larriera, a micro-finance expert, who becomes his lover and UN colleague. Unfortunately, such business leads Vieira de Mello to neglect his sons. Indeed, family time is rare and awkward for the diplomat (sadly, a big pot of delicious shrimp moqueca gets neglected during a short-lived family reunion).

Sergio’s biases are blatantly obvious, but they still probably could have been worse. Arguably, Bradley Whitford’s cartoonish portrayal of the nebbish Bremer as cynical villain is the most egregious aspect of the film. On the other hand, it forthrightly depicts the heroic efforts of von Zehle and Valentine to save Sergio and Loescher. It is worth noting von Zehle served as a technical advisor, which is a major reason why the rescue sequences are so tense and realistic.

Borten’s screenplay readily admits Vieira de Mello’s decision to evict the U.S. forces guarding the UN’s headquarters in Iraq left it directly vulnerable to terrorist attack. However, for some dubious reason, it omits al-Zarqawi’s cited motivation for the bombing in his statement of responsibility: the East Timor deal that result in a net loss of territory controlled by the Islamic Caliphate—in that case the Indonesian government.

As a film, Sergio moves along at a good place and convincingly recreates the major events of his time, even though Barker and lead actor Wagner Moura are transparently mindful of protecting Vieira de Mello’s reputation throughout the film. They show some self-doubt and human weakness, but just enough to provide an opportunity for redemption. Ana de Armas is pretty credible expressing frustration with his workaholism and commitment phobia, but the character is largely defined in relationship to him.