Happy Times, from Israel

You're invited to a dinner party. They are serving hot death and cold bile on the menu. It starts as a social gathering and turns into a frenzy of murder. That might sound unlikely, but it all goes down in Brentwood, O.J.’s old neighborhood, so maybe it sort of makes sense. Regardless, you better steel yourself for a little bloodshed in Michael Mayer’s Happy Times, which releases this Tuesday on VOD and DVD.

Dodgy Yossi is much richer than the rest of his guests and he is not about to let them forget it. It is why his trophy wife Sigal puts up with him. The Israeli ex-pats are hosting Michael, a resentful actor not making it in LA and his awkwardly not Jewish girlfriend, Aliyah, as well as snobby tech executive Avner, who still suffers from service-related PTSD and his neurotic wife, Hila. They will also be joined by divorced contractor Ilan, whose business depends on Yossi’s meager patronage and his New Agey girlfriend Noya, as well as Maor, Yossi’s young employee, who rather unsubtly carries a torch for Sigal. Plus, their Rabbi will eventually roll in to collect the couple’s latest reluctant donation.

Alcohol and [un]controlled substances will exacerbate pre-existing tensions and instant dislikes. Initially, the violence is accidental, but it quickly and deliberately escalates. Unfortunately, Sigal and Yossi’s house could serve as the set for a revival of Ira Levin’s Deathtrap, because there are all kinds of antique firearms, crossbows, and gold old fashion carving knives lying around, just waiting to be put to ill-use.

Happy Times is not for the faint of heart, but if you do not mind a little gore, it is wickedly amusing. The film will inevitably be categorized as horror, due to the volume of blood and the mounting body count, but it is really just a dark comedy—real dark. Yet, Mayer is a master at pulling off each successively over-the-top one-darned-thing-after-another.

Animation First ’21: A Doonesbury Special

In its pre-Reagan, pre-W, pre-Trump heyday, the comic strip Doonesbury was sort of the nearest equivalent to Colbert and the Daily Show, except people on both sides of the aisle frequently found it funny. Gary Trudeau’s leftwing viewpoint was always readily apparent, but he could still see the humor of his characters’ hippy-dippiness. That was still true in 1977 when he got a call-up for a Peanuts-style animated special. The resulting film made history as the final project of legendary animator John Hubley. On its way to TV sets, it won an award at Cannes and an Oscar nomination, but it has been rarely screened since then. Today, it is rather strange and nostalgic to watch A Doonesbury Special, credited to directors John & Faith Hubley, with Trudeau himself, when it screens through the 15^th, as part of this year’s Animation First’s “Wes Anderson Selects” sidebar.

Okay, bad news first—fan favorite Uncle Duke never appears in the special. On the plus side, the residents of Walden Commune finally start to wrestle with the failures of their hippy lifestyle—maybe, sort of. Responsibility-averse stoner Zonker Harris announces that it is time for them to split up and move into condominiums, but everyone knows he is the least prepared to participate in real life.

However, everyone has to admit the whole turn-on-tune-in-drop-out New Left thing just didn’t work out the way they hoped it would. Most of the rest of the special consists of flashbacks to their hardcore activism and hardcore partying days at Walden College, including performances from folk rocker Jimmy Thudpucker, who was fictional, but still released a real-life greatest hits album. There is also a football huddle gag involving hawkish quarterback B.D. and a very high Zonker, which compares favorably with Abbott & Costello routines. Plus, John Sebastian plays a suitably melancholy harmonica solo over the closing credits.

The Snoopy Show, on Apple TV+

When Charles M. Schulz first brought his beloved Peanuts characters to TV, the resulting Christmas special did two nearly miraculous things. It managed to shoehorn some King James scripture and original jazz music into primetime television. Eventually, there was even a Saturday morning cartoon, but just about every form of animated Peanuts gets compared to three perennial favorites (Charlie Brown Christmas, Charlie Brown Thanksgiving, and It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown). You might notice Charlie Brown is in each title. Recently, Apple has started producing new Peanuts programming and fans are glad to have it, but their focus has been on a certain beagle. Fortunately, he and his feathered best friend are still endearing, even if there isn’t quite the same level of magic in The Snoopy Show, which premieres today on Apple TV+.

This will indeed be Snoopy’s show, so don’t you forget it. It even starts with his dueling origin stories in the opening vignette, “A Snoopy Story,” wherein Snoopy writes memoirs, but Charlie Brown sets the record straight (we also briefly get to see Snoopy’s brothers, Spike and Olaf). Each of the six 24-minute-ish episodes contain three mini-stories, sometimes sharing a common theme, like Halloween and outdoor winter frolics.

The best is probably “Happiness is a Snow Day,” in which Snoopy teaches the uptight Marcy how to enjoy a winter’s day off from school and “Dress-Up Snoopy,” which follows Snoopy’s efforts to devise a costume for Charlie Brown that will catch the Little Red-Headed Girl’s eye. There is always a risk revisiting Halloween, because “Great Pumpkin” remains so popular, but it really pays off in this segment. Unlike many episodes, poor Charlie Brown’s neuroses return to center stage here. Frankly, he is sometimes missed, because his modesty and indomitable humanity are what made the best specials so special. (Snoopy also probably works better when he rolls in and out for his mic-drop moments.)

Cahill’s Bliss, on Prime Video

Stop me if you've heard this one before: the world we think we know might just be a computer simulation. That is what Greg Wittle is about to learn, when he meets the woman who claims to have created it—and he is inclined to listen, because she is played by Salma Hayek. The Wachowskis’ The Matrix did not open on tomorrow’s date in 1999, so it is just a coincidence two “simulation world” films are releasing this Friday (the other being Ascher’s A Glitch in the Matrix). Of course, there are no coincidences in the Matrix, so maybe these two films really do prove something. Either way, director-screenwriter Mike Cahill’s Bliss does its best to question our conception of reality when it starts streaming tomorrow on Prime Video.

One thing is for sure: the world that we start in definitely does not cater to Wittle. He is bitterly divorced from his ex-wife and estranged from his son. Only his daughter Emily still maintains ties. To make matters worse, Wittle will soon be fired from his job at a customer support firm (amusingly named “Technical Difficulties”) and he will then kill his boss through an unlikely chain of accidental events. Fortunately, the woman in the bar tells him she can fix things.

That would be Isabel Clemens and she claims she invented the simulated world they are in. She gloms onto him, because she claims he is “real” and not some kind programmed NPC. The weird thing is, she seems to be right. It does indeed appear she can make things happen and mess with “unreal” people. Eventually, she gives Wittle a glimpse of the “true” world, which matches the idealized drawings he compulsively sketched. The drawback is his beloved daughter Emily isn’t “real” too.

Cahill riffs on some of the ideas introduced in films like The Matrix and Empathy Inc in interesting ways, but his vision of competing realities is rather muddled. Instead of mind-bending paradoxes, he just gives us a headache. There are often logic gaps in science fiction, but they are outright at war with each in Bliss. On the other hand, Bliss offers an unusually thoughtful and mature meditation on the question of love. Can you really love someone who does not truly “exist?” If so, then what?

Ascher’s A Glitch in the Matrix

If Elon Musk and Plato agree something might be a possibility, you have to take it seriously, but lemming Robin Hood users can’t invest in the “Matrix.” The idea that our world is a pre-programmed illusion goes back to Plato’s Cave, but it gained major new currency with the releasee of the Wachowskis’ The Matrix. Rodney Ascher explores the philosophical underpinnings of “simulation theory” through the lens of The Matrix and other science fiction films in A Glitch in the Matrix, which releases tomorrow on VOD and in select theaters, following its Sundance premiere.

There are a lot of people out there who suspect we might be living in a simulated construct, several of whom discuss their theories at length with Ascher, or rather their avatars do. Yet, the most important voice in the film is Philip K. Dick, seen in archival footage giving a speech to a bewildered French science fiction convention about his experiences perceiving alternate realities. It really was a keynote for the ages.

Ascher covers heady concepts, like Plato’s Cave (illustrated by Sam Weiss’s animated short, narrated by Orson Welles), Descartes’ “Solipsism,” Nick Bostrum’s “Simulation Hypothesis,” and the old “Brain in a jar” thought experiment. Ascher uses ample clips from science fiction films to exemplify their points, obviously including the Matrix trilogy and just about every PKD adaptation, but there is one conspicuous omission. Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s World on a Wire (streaming on Kanopy) anticipated the themes of The Matrix and Tron way back in 1973, when it was produced for Western German television.

There is a lot of egg-headery in Glitch and some cool visuals. However, Ascher maintains an agnostic tone, fully exploring the dark side and shortcomings of the theory as well. On the plus side, media critic Emily Pothast compellingly reminds us of the tangible emotional benefits of human connections, very definitely including the physical kind. Conversely, Joshua Cooke provides a harrowing account of the murders he committed while in throes of extreme Matrix-fandom, allegedly believing his adopted parents were constructs of the Matrix.

Sundance ’21: Amy Tan—Unintended Memoir

Amy Tan is a literary bestseller on the magnitude of the late, great Tom Wolfe. She has only published six novels and two full-length nonfiction books since 1989, but each one has been an event. Her debut novel, The Joy Luck Club became a sensation and so did Wayne Wang’s film adaptation. She is a totally appropriate choice for the American Masters treatment and director James Redford obviously had the connections to get Amy Tan: Unintended Memoir into this year’s Sundance Film Festival, where it premiered yesterday.

Tan’s early novels incorporated considerable autobiographical elements, but they were still fiction. The “Joy Luck Club” was indeed based on a real-life investment and social cooperative formed by her parents and their friends (it seems like there are a lot of lessons to draw from that alone). Unfortunately, her early teen years were marred by the tragic deaths of her beloved father and older brother, as well as the erratic behavior of her unstable mother.

Redford does a nice job tracing how her real-life family history is reflected in her work. Clearly, Tan is reserved by nature, but he gets her to open up on several occasions. Viewers will find a good deal of emotional resolution or payoff in the film, but Tan would surely chafe at the triteness of calling it a “recovery” story.

Indeed, Tan is refreshingly candid. When asked about the criticism of supposed Asian stereotypes in her work, she cuts to the heart of the matter, explaining the outrage-chorus will never be satisfied with anything that isn’t outright propaganda. Exactly so.

A Nightmare Wakes, on Shudder

Few novels have been adapted as many times as Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, and even fewer novels have had their creative gestation dramatized so many times. Auteurs like Ken Russell and Ivan Passer have envisioned the notorious scary story challenge at Lake Geneva and Hugh Grant played Lord Byron in a film you never heard of (but that is where he met Elizabeth Hurley). Plus, it duly appears in Haifaa Al-Mansour’s bio-pic, Mary Shelley. It is time for another summer by the lake when Nora Unkel leans into the horror elements of Shelley’s Frankenstein in A Nightmare Wakes, which premieres tomorrow on Shudder.

Mary Wollstonecraft is not yet Percy Bysshe Shelley. She is only his mistress. Nobody is more conscious of this fact than her, especially since she is pregnant with his child. The idea is to spend a restful season by Lake Geneva, but their neighbor Lord Byron is not exactly an easy-going host. Nevertheless, Wollstonecraft’s step-sister Claire Clairmont is quite interested in him, despite the obvious peril to her reputation. As any horror fan worth their salt knows, Byron challenges his guests to compose a scary story one dark and stormy night. He and Shelley soon moved on to other hedonistic pursuits, but Wollstonecraft and Dr. Jonathan Polidori followed through, writing Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus and The Vampyre, respectively.

A Nightmare Wakes is somewhat stylistically akin to Russell’s Gothic, mixing the romantic poets’ boozy revelry with nightmarish imagery, but it is nowhere near as trippy. Unkel takes the psychological symbolism deeper, suggesting Wollstonecraft saw herself as the spurned monster-creation and Shelley as its neglectful creator. It seems like a reasonably defensible reading, given the dysfunction and co-dependency of their relationship. Hower, Unkel does not merely present the “Byronesque” Dr. Frankenstein as Shelley’s fictional analog. He becomes the poet’s doppelganger.

These sequences are quite creepy and satisfying for fans of Frankenstein and the various Lake Geneva genesis movies, but they are also a bit confusing. Poor Polidori is once again mostly relegated to the sidelines and this time even dissolute Byron only pays a minor role in the story (albeit a rude and self-indulgent one). However, this time around, Claire Glassford nicely humanizes her namesake Clairmont, who, as unlikely as it might sound, comes across as the more responsible step-sister.

Apollo 11: Quarantine (short)

Don't you miss the days when quarantining was something exotic? In the case of Apollo 11 astronauts, it was even heroic. They landed on the Moon and safely returned to Earth, but as soon as they splashed down, the crew had to spend twenty-one days in quarantine. Director Todd Douglas Miller returned to the same NASA archives that supplied footage for his amazing Apollo 11 documentary to assemble the 23-minute short film coda, Apollo 11: Quarantine, which releases this Friday on VOD.

When Miller locked Apollo 11 before its 2019 Sundance premiere, the quarantine footage seemed understandably anti-climactic, so it only appeared during the closing credits. Then 2020 happened. Suddenly, a whole lot of people could sort of relate to their quarantine experience. Of course, all three astronauts were in good health, but they did not have the option of bingeing Game of Thrones during their quarantine.

It is definitely worth reviewing their quarantine experience, because it is clear NASA how carefully and extensively prepared for it. They crew was directly conveyed into a quarantine pod, which sort of resembled an Airstream trailer. It was then flown from Hawaii to Houston and shuttled across highways that were lined with flag-waving well-wishers. After watching Quarantine, we hope the pod has been duly preserved in the Air Space Smithsonian or some other museum, because it is definitely an important piece of history.

Breach, Starring Bruce Willis

What happens when an Alien-style alien runs amok on a life ark? Hopefully, there are enough essential workers still awake to defend the sleeping passengers. It turns out the leader of the janitorial staff does indeed have military experience. In space, nobody can hear them cleaning toilets in John Suits’ Breach, which releases today on DVD.

This is last mass transport leaving Earth. Naturally, stowaways will be summarily executed, but dopey Noah still managed to sneak on board, with the help of his pregnant lover, who just so happens to be the daughter of Admiral Adams-King. However, he almost wishes he was back on doomed earth when he meets his new janitorial supervisor and roommate Clay, formerly a captain under the admiral’s command.

Clay is definitely a tough boss, but he keeps a cool head when the skeleton staff flying the ship starts to fall victim to a mysterious parasite. It seems to be trying to sabotage the ship, even though it would destroy itself in the process. Clay and company also figure out it was deliberately let into the ship, presumably by a member of a new terrorist group that decided humanity was too destructive to be allowed colonize a new planet.

We have been down this road before, but the human terrorist element adds an intriguing new wrinkle. In some markets, Breach is known as Anti-Human, which is a much better title. Frankly, the depiction of the terrorist dogma hits very close to home for contemporary environmental ideology.

Sundance ’21: Prisoners of the Ghostland

Westerns have been taking inspiration from Samurai films—and vice versa—for years, so why not put them together? And who better to do it than a master of chaos like Sion Sono, in his first English language production? In terms of cinematic firsts, Sono in English is up there with “Garbo Talks” for fans of hyper-kinetic genre films. An anti-hero known only as “Hero” is in for a wild ride in Sono’s Prisoners of the Ghostland, which premiered as part of the 2021 Sundance Film Festival.

Hero is an outlaw, but he is not evil. Unfortunately, he was teamed-up with the aptly named “Psycho,” who suddenly started blowing away customers in the bank they try to rob in the prologue. Eventually, the law caught up with him, but the sinister “Governor” of a weirdly undefined Wild West Japanese town offers him a deal he has to accept. Hero must “rescue” the Governor’s adopted granddaughter, Bernice, who ran off into the dreaded “Ghostland.” It is sort of a radioactive wasteland, in the Mad Max tradition, but with more radiation and more ghosts.

There will be a few complicating factors for Hero, like the booby-trapped leather jumpsuit the Governor straps him into. The whole thing will self-destruct if he is not back with Bernice in five days. There also happen to be strategically located explosives to regulate his behavior—very strategically, if you follow. He will need her voice to forestall an explosion, but she has been struck dumb by the supernatural power of the Ghostland.

If you know the recent work of Sono and Nic Cage than no review will dissuade you from watching Ghostland. Happily, their first collaboration lives up to its billing. Honestly, Cage gets his most mime-able rant perhaps ever, which he totally knocks out of the park. Oh, you will know it when you hear it.

Sundance ’21: Marvelous and the Black Hole

Magic isn’t just for casino acts and annoying Harry Potter movies anymore. It might just help sad and angry Sammy Ko get through her super-awkward teen years. She still grieves her mother and has no use for a prospective step-mother, but her unexpected mentor Margot the magician might just have some construct life lessons for her, beyond mere sleight of hand, in Kate Tsang’s Marvelous and the Black Hole, which premiered as part of the 2021 Sundance Film Festival.

Life is difficult for Ko, both at school and at home. She dearly misses her late mother and it upsets her that her father and older sister have already gotten over it. Of course, they haven’t really. They just don’t show it as much, but Ko can’t see that yet. After nearly getting expelled, her father delivers an ultimatum. Enroll in summer community college classes or get shipped off to a tough love boot camp. Ko reluctantly opts for a business class.

It is there that Ko meets Margot, on her way to a gig at the campus daycare center. Margot has a special affinity for children. It turns out she also has a knack for reaching troubled thirteen-year-olds as well. Initially, Ko thinks she is too cool for kiddie magic, but she needs to shadow a small business-owner for her project, so it becomes Margot by default. Yet, Margot’s tart attitude and skillful illusions start to impress the confused kid (her rabbit Sebastian also helps). Unfortunately, news of her father’s engagement to Marianne Revell (who makes the classic mistake of trying too hard) renews all her angsty resentment.

Admittedly, Tsang’s narrative is about as predictable as the New York Jets losing another game.  However, Tsang’s visual sensibility makes it all feel fresh again. She incorporates brief spot animation and flights of magical fantasy that add a lot of razzle dazzle. Stylistically, it comes from a similar place as This Beautiful Fantastic, but with more emphasis on the fantastical. It moments of beauty are also more beautiful, especially Tsang’s striking representation of the Chinese fable of the Empress and the Moon Rabbit.

The people in Marvelous are pretty good too. Rhea Perlman has worked steadily since Cheers, but Margot is a perfect showcase for her endearingly sarcastic talents. Margot also eventually turns out to be a more interesting character than we expect, who has tragic roots in the Hungarian Revolution of 1956.

Sundance ’21: Knocking

In horror movies and psychological thrillers, shrinks are always discharging their institutionalized patients a little too soon. Will poor Molly be another? She suffered a nervous breakdown after a vaguely implied personal tragedy, but now her doctor thinks she is ready to rejoin the outside world. As luck would have it, they secured a flat for her in the Gaslight Arms. However, the persistent rapping noise she hears in her new apartment might just drive her mad (for good) in Frida Kemff’s Knocking, which premiered at the 2021 Sundance Film Festival.

Molly had her apprehensions, but she was still mostly happy to get away from the dreary institution. Unfortunately, she has no support network of family of friends waiting for her. Molly is basically alone in her apartment, with nobody to confirm the strange knocking noises she starts to hear. Her neighbors are all suspicious-acting characters, who claim they can’t hear any such noises and don’t want to be bothered in any event.

As they persist, Molly latches onto the notion they could be a call for help in Morse Code, from a captive being held somewhere in the building. Of course, when she reaches out to the cops, it goes rather badly. It gets even worse during her subsequent attempts. Everyone thinks she is just crazy, including maybe even us, the viewers.

Cecilia Milocco really is terrific as Molly. This is a harrowing portrayal of a vulnerable woman wrestling with guilt, isolation, paranoia, and fear. There is no one she can trust in this film, not even herself. Milocco and Kemff vividly convey a sense of her extreme alienation, in every sense.

Haymaker

This could be The Bodyguard for a new generation. Instead of former Secret Service, he is a retired MMA fighter and she is a transgender entertainer. However, most of the time, she isn’t in much jeopardy, but she socializes with Udo Kier, so maybe that ought to qualify as dangerous. Despite their differences, they just might fall for each other in screenwriter-director-star Nick Sasso’s Haymaker, which is now playing in theaters and on VOD.

As luck would have it, Nicky “Mitts” Malloy was bouncing at the club that booked one-named Nomi when she was attacked by a thuggish customer. He was fired for his gallantry, so she hires him as her personal bodyguard. Soon, he is jet-setting around the world with her (Nomi’s agent books a bizarre range of gigs, from Bronx dive bars to Latin American stadium tours.). Much to the surprise of both, they actually seem to enjoy each other’s company, but he is still a bit too tightly wound and she still parties a bit too hard. When they inevitably part ways, he hops a flight to Thailand, to jump-start his training in the cradle of Muay Thai.

There is a lot of oddly pleasant stuff in Haymaker, like its depiction of the expat MMA scene in Thailand. It also boasts two significant genre cameos from Kier and Zoe Bell, who plays Malloy’s former American trainer. Most importantly, the chemistry between Sasso’s Malloy and Nomi Ruiz as her namesake is quite appealing, in an unforced, easy-going kind of way. They really are an attractive couple, but as mean as it sounds, they probably needed more adversity to overcome.

Aside from the early assault, there really isn’t much peril for Nomi. Likewise, Malloy’s opponent for his comeback bout is his friend, Brett “The Threat,” who conducts himself in a worthy and honorable fashion. Arguably, this is a refreshing subversion of fight movie cliches and a truer-to-life portrayal of Muay Thai discipline, but it doesn’t help build the film towards a grand emotional climax.

Sundance ’21: Censor

The truth is film censors make totally logical horror movie characters, because they obviously love to cut. Some enterprising shlock-meister ought to turn that play on words into a full-on slasher movie. Writer-director Prano Bailey-Bond goes in the opposite direction, suggesting there really is something dangerous about the images her protagonist seeks to suppress. However, she has to watch the gore before demanding cuts, which forces her to see some pretty disturbing scenes that maybe not so coincidentally hit uncomfortably close to home in Bailey-Bond’s Censor, which screens again today as part of the 2021 Sundance Film Festival.

Enid Baines really believes in her job as a British film censor. In the mid-1980’s, her work largely involves trimming the notorious “video nasties.” These were low-budget VHS releases that were vilified and even prosecuted for excessive violence. It is worth noting Sam Raimi’s original Evil Dead and several Fulci films were on the nasty list, so clearly one man’s nastiness is another man’s art, but we digress.

Baines considers them all nasty, but she tries to be reasonable in the cuts she demands. She thought she was fairly well desensitized to on-screen violence, but she is thrown for a loop when a new nasty appears to re-enact the childhood disappearance of her long-lost sister. The leering producer, Doug Smart, also seemed to know it would strike a chord with her. Her review screening launches her down a rabbit hole, where nasty fiction and grim reality blend together.

The basic Macguffin of Censor has a lot of potential, but Bailey-Bond does not fully exploit the creepy meta-ness of nasty “art” imitating real life and the inevitable inverse, whereby real life killings are possibly committed to create on-screen murders. This is a little counter-intuitive to say, but Bailey-Bond might be a little too concerned with Baines’ inner angsts and traumas, concentrating too much on her head-space, at the expense head-tripping game-playing.

The truth is the boundary between lurid horror-movies-within-horror-movies and their revolted viewers was much more compellingly violated in Peter Strickland’s Berberian Sound Studio. Astron-6’s The Editor also addresses these themes in a more entertaining way. In contrast, Bailey-Bond and co-screenwriter Anthony Fletcher never fully assemble a hall of mirrors for the viewer to get lost in, so we are always pretty sure where we are, even if Baines isn’t.

Sundance ’21: In the Same Breath

Censorship kills—and not just those in the censored country. If you ever doubted it, Xi and the CCP have proved it for over a year. Intrepid documentarian Nanfu Wang exposes how early reports of the Covid-19 outbreak in Wuhan were covered-up, as well as the Communist Party’s propaganda spin efforts once the pandemic became too large to conceal in In the Same Breath. Her timely documentary premiered last night during the 2021 Sundance Film Festival, which was forced to pivot to online this year precisely because of the events and decisions she documents.

When Wang visited China in early January, 2020, she did not think very much at the time about cursory state media reports claiming eight doctors who were arrested in Wuhan for spreading false rumors of a SARS-like virus, but she returns to that moment over and over in Breath. However, when she started seeing an alarming volume of social media reports of a highly contagious and debilitating flu, she realized there was more to the story than the government was letting on.

Wang’s team archived as much of the social media posts as they could before the government deleted them and reached out to the posters. Eventually, she hired a local crew in Wuhan to record conditions in the hospitals and help her conduct remote interviews. She draws out grieving family members and shines a light on the harassment of whistleblowers, like journalist-lawyer Chen Qiushi, who has been conveniently missing since early February 2020.

What emerges is a far more complete and disturbing picture than what viewers saw in Hao Wu’s 76 Days. We have respect for his past work, but Wu’s film rather awkwardly shares a lot of similarities with the characteristics of the state media’s heroic Covid first-responders TV documentaries, as described by Wang.

The way Breath explains the relationship between censorship and propaganda is especially valuable. Merely suppressing embarrassing information is not enough for a regime like the CCP. They also need to create a favorable alternate narrative. In memorably telling sequences, Wang and co-editor Michael Shade shows dozens of Mainland “news” broadcasts repeating the same script, word-for-word verbatim. The effect is both absurd and chilling.

Savage State: A French Western

Technically, England stayed neutral during the American Civil War, but they were super interested, as we know from The Education of Henry Adams. France also remained on the sidelines, but the government was even more divided over it. Nevertheless, French subjects living in the U.S. were instructed to stay scrupulously neutral as well. Right, good luck with that. Not surprisingly, an expatriate French family decides to return their homeland after getting a taste of reconstruction in David Perrault’s Savage State, which releases tomorrow on VOD.

Hired gun Victor Ludd was supposed to protect de Lisle, but rather awkwardly, his client died due to his trickery. Yet, de Lisle’s business partner still hires him to escort his family from Missouri to the east coast, where they can book passage back to France. They claimed to be neutral and even paid wages to their housemaid Layla. However, their first experience with General Order 28 convinces the parents to make the arduous journey back to France.

It will be a rough journey, especially because of the three sisters thinly disguised sexual attraction to Ludd. Their shrewish mother’s long simmering resentment of their father distinctly Antebellum closeness with Layla also threatens to boil over. However, the biggest threat they face comes from the gang of outlaws stalking them. It is personal for Bettie, their sociopathic leader, who also happens to be a former lover spurned by Ludd. It is safe to say she has yet to move on emotionally.

Kate Moran’s delirious scenery-chewing “fatal attraction” is far and away the best thing about Savage State, by a wide country mile.  She makes Bettie one of the best western movie heavies in years. Frankly, her gang is also pretty creepy, thanks to their authentic-style burlap bag masks, which make them look a lot like the slashers from The Town that Dreaded Sundown. The problem is the French family and their psycho-sexual tensions are drearily tiresome.

Queen of Black Magic, on Shudder

Orphans are always in for a rough time in horror movies. By definition, they are vulnerable and without a family support network. Even if they survive the orphanage, something always comes for them eventually, especially if they return to their spooky old institutional home later in life. Three friends make that very mistake and their families will pay the price in Kimo (one half of the Mo Bothers) Stamboel’s Queen of Black Magic, a somewhat free remake of a 1981 Indonesian horror movie written by Joko Anwar, which premieres tomorrow on Shudder.

On his way to visit sick, old Bandi, the orphanage headmaster on his death bed, Hanif accidentally runs over a deer—except maybe it wasn’t a deer. Bad start, regardless. Everyone briefly feels reassured when they meet his two orphanage-mates Anton and Jeferi and their families, but nobody is exactly sure who called them there. Of course, strange things soon start happening and a strange, uncanny power will not let them leave.

Soon, they realize their tormentor must be the sinister witch they thought they had dealt in their teen years, under Bandi’s direction. Clearly, they had not completely finished her off. The circumstances surrounding the incident may not have been what they were led to believe either. However, she might be even angrier and more dangerous than advertised.

Anwar’s narrative really isn’t anything spectacularly new, but when he hits the classic horror tropes, he connects with haymaker roundhouses. Stamboel and cinematographer Patrick Tashadian drench everything in atmosphere and foreboding. They serve up some scary stuff, upholding the honor of Indonesian horror cinema.

In Concert at the Hollywood Bowl: The Jazz Installment

The Hollywood Bowl is an open-air venue, but not open enough to save the 2020 season. (Thanks again Xi, and have fun partying in Davos.) Fortunately, a number of significant musicians were recorded live-in-performance at the iconic concert hall, so the L.A. Phil had plenty of footage to chose from when their new “in concert” series. Jazz gets its own episode, rather fittingly considering Norman Granz set a Bowl attendance record at the time in 1956 with one of his “Jazz at the Philharmonic” all-star revues. They have also programmed some good stuff in recent years, some of which is collected in In Concert at the Hollywood Bowl: Jazz at the Hollywood Bowl, which premieres Friday on PBS. (By the way, you get the idea that this was recorded at the Hollywood Bowl, right?)

The way Chucho Valdes plays, they really should have saved him to close the program, but hey, we’ll take him whenever. The Afro-Cuban jazz pianist’s rendition of “Bebo,” dedicated to his father Bebo Valdes, is nearly as awesome as his performances in Calle 54 (that means it’s very awesome). It could also be an infectious introduction to Afro-Cuban percussion for some tragically sheltered viewers.

Fans should then be delighted to see and hear Dianne Reeves (the L.A. Phil’s first creative jazz chair) performing “She Walks the Earth” with Brazilian keyboard player Ivan Lins. It is a characteristically elegant and sophisticated, but still very swinging performance. (Frankly, she really should have recorded more since moving from Blue Note to Concord—and given how closely we associate her with the former label’s relaunch, it is hard to fathom how they let her go.)

Kamasi Washington’s “Truth” is another highlight that could surprise a lot of PBS-watching jazz novices with its wonderful colors and textures. Washington shares aesthetic kinships with vintage Coltrane and even Eddie Gale, but a tune like this is also more melodic and therefore more accessible.

The Phil’s maestro Gustavo Dudamel gives vocalist Cecile McLorin Salvant an unfairly intimidating intro, comparing her to Billie Holiday and Nina Simone, but then she exhibits a unique delivery style on “Something’s Coming” from West Side Story. It is also nice to see Aaron Diehl’s trio backing her.

Bassist Christian McBride (the Phil’s 2^nd jazz chair) leads his big band and vocalist Jose James through a brisk, brassy, bluesy, and scatty take on Bobby Timmons’ “Moanin,’” best remembered from the Lee Morgan-era Messengers’ classic recording. It has a solid, toe-tapping vibe, even if you can’t help comparing it to the Blakey original.

Two Sentence Horror Stories: Quota & Fix

Only the USPS would try to build public support by doing their job really slowly. Admittedly, nobody expected the pandemic-related shipping crunch, but for a private business, a huge surprise increase in demand would be considered a “good problem.” Regardless, shipping related issues are definitely top-of-mind these days, so it is very zeitgeisty the first story of the latest edition of Two Sentence Horror Stories is set within a shipping facility. That would be “Quota,” followed by “Fix,” tonight on the CW.

Christmas is coming in “Quota,” directed by Lynne Stopkewich and written by Melody Cooper, but Tina’s online order fulfillment center is running behind their target numbers. Her district supervisor has a super idea. He will lock them in for the night and only give her the exit code. Right, like that is remotely credible in our litigious society. The truth is he would have a heart attack if he ever saw a newspaper lying near a fire door.

Nevertheless, that is the premise and it keeps everyone trapped inside when all heck breaks lose. How so? That would be telling according to this week’s “Do Not Reveals,” but it offers the series an opportunity dabble in a hugely popular horror subgenre. The warehouse setting is definitely effective (and also realistic looking), but none of the third act twists are really very surprising.

Happily, Two Sentence’s second season measurably rebounds with “Fix,” directed by Rania Attieh & Daniel Garica and written by Kristine Huntley. It starts out as a tale of family dysfunction when a psych grad student Jackson finally resolves to check on his (maybe not-so former) junky sister, Sophia. However, when he reaches their spooky, isolated family cabin, where she is naturally staying, things take a rather dark, satanic turn.

Russian Film Week ’21: In Deep Sleep

Is Russia finally waking up to Putin? Maybe, judging from the huge Navalny protests. Regardless, the Russian economy has been asleep for years and the nation’s institutions of civil society have been corrupted by the former KGB agent in charge. Can we therefore interpret this art-house fantasia of a Russia mysteriously stuck in a state of unnatural slumber as a commentary on Putin’s authoritarian regime? Viewers certainly have the time and space to develop their own interpretations while watching Maria Ignatenko’s In Deep Sleep, which screens as part of the online Russian Film Week USA.

Viktor was always prone to anti-social behavior, but the death of his wife made him even worse. He is not expressive, but he is definitely hurting inside. We know he comes to a bad end from the prologue, but we will see from flashbacks how he reached this point—sort of.

The centerpiece of the film is the long, eerie passage of the commercial fishing vessel crew-member returning to his hardscrabble industrial port, only to find the entire town asleep in their cars, places of business, or out in the open, exposed to the elements. Viktor even tries to save one elderly sleeper from the harsh Russian winter.

The weird nocturnal sleeping scenes are indeed quite striking, but Ignatenko’s use of flashbacks is often confusing. In Deep Sleep looks haunting yet gritty, but the intended takeaways remain obscure. Obviously, Viktor’s isolation and loneliness are a symbolic product of grief-related depression, but the hard-bitten protagonist is a difficult figure to embrace or even fully understand.