From the perspective of great literature, Venice is the city to go when death
is near. In fact, Hemingway’s Venetian novel is often compared to the classic
Thomas Mann novella. Both focus on dying men who spend their final days pondering
a younger beauty. In Hemingway’s novel, Col. Richard Cantwell is more directly
involved with the young and noble-born Renata Contari. In this adaptation,
their relationship is less romantic and therefore arguably healthier. Unfortunately,
his heart is just as weak in Paula Ortiz’s adaptation of Hemingway’s Across
the River and Into the Trees, which releases this Friday on VOD.
Col.
Cantwell must be a difficult patient, considering he refuses to follow the
advice of Danny Huston (playing his doctor, Captain Wes O’Neil). He insists on
taking a duck-hunting trip outside Venice, so the best O’Neil can do is assign
him a driver, Sgt. Jackson. Despite the grief he takes, the NCO still
appreciates a veteran battlefield officer like Cantwell.
For
his part, Cantwell most certainly appreciates a woman like Contari, despite his
grim state of mind. Their paths just keep crossing, maybe not so accidentally.
It was coincidence that Cantwell had hoped to buy a set of vintage hunting
rifles from her cash-poor, but too proud to be cooperative mother. After that,
it is largely sympathetic attraction, and perhaps Contari’s passive-aggressive
hope to undermine her arranged marriage. She is betrothed to an old family
friend, but he is not half the man battle-scarred Cantwell is.
It
is pretty easy to guess Cantwell’s real business in Venice, especially if you
have any familiarity with Hemingway’s life and work. Nonetheless, the
world-weary officer also hopes to conclude another piece of unfinished business,
by uncovering the mass burial site of a group of partisans executed by the SS,
for distinctly personal reasons.
Ortiz
and screenwriter Peter Flannery definitely scrubbed Hemingway’s novel for
contemporary viewers. They water down Cantwell’s romance with Contari to
essentially a platonic friendship, with close dancing and maybe one or two
kisses. They also completely expurgate all references to Stonewall Jackson, from
whom the title came.
However,
Hemingway readers will appreciate the way Flannery reliably recreates the
cadences of his dialogue. This is also an appropriately boozy and smoky film. Ortiz
seems to take inspiration from The Third Man, nearly transmuting Hemingway
into film noir, in much the same tradition as Robert Siodmak and Don Siegel’s
adaptations of “The Killers.”
It
works pretty well, especially considering how fully Ortiz and cinematographer Javier
Aguirresarobe capitalize on the Venice locations. Of course, it greatly helps
that we can only see and not smell the dank Italian cultural capitol.
Oscar-wnning animator Adam Elliot creates kennly expressive clay figures and richly detailed sets to tell a heartfelt,deeply personal story. Just bewarned, it takes a while to get to the hopefully part in MEMOIR OF A SNAIL. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
If this manor house was in Kansas, John and Sera Winter might need access
to the cellar, but since they live outside Portland, the wrought iron fence and
the vintage firearm collection that comes with the estate look much more
attractive. The terms and conditions of their tenancy are strange, but it is a
desperate real estate market. However, their deal takes on Faustian dimensions
in Vaughn Stein’s Cellar Door, which opens this Friday in theaters and
on VOD.
After
losing their unborn baby, the Winters need a change of scenery, but most of the
properties in the tony suburb they settle on are beyond the means of riff-raff
like them. As a last resort, their realtor refers them to wealthy ascot-wearing
Emmett Claymore, who offers them a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They can live
rent-free in his McMansion as long as they agree to never look inside the
padlocked cellar. He also requests they keep the display of artifacts unearthed
on the property, including some revolvers, which look like they might still
work—but the cellar is the biggie. One peak and their next address will be in
eviction-city.
Of
course they agree, but as soon as they move in, bad luck starts plaguing the
Winters. Awkwardly, his co-worker and former ex, Alyssa Hayes, accuses him of
sexual harassment. Too ashamed to explain to his wife, especially since he was
having a final fling with Hayes while his wife miscarried, Winter pretends to
go to work each day.
The
house just seems to have bad mojo, like when a former tenant shows up with a
gas can, urging them to burn it down. Pretty soon, old John is practically
clawing at the cellar door, whereas newly pregnant Sera is determined to
safeguard their luxurious and economical living arrangements.
The
truth is Cellar Door really is not much of a horror movie. However,
screenwriter Sam Scott tries to build towards an intriguing revelation of what
it all means. His concept is surprisingly thoughtful. It would just be better
suited as a shorter instalment of an anthology series in the tradition of Tales
of the Unexpected. That is not a slight—far from it. Nevertheless, the fact
remains the film is conspicuously padded, especially on the front half.
Before the film Schindler’s List or the miniseries Holocaust,
Nelly Sachs used poetry to bear witness to the Holocaust. Sachs was awarded the
Nobel Prize for Literature, so literate viewers might expect to hear readings of
her verse in a documentary exploring poetry that addresses the Holocaust. Yet,
in this case, they do not. Filmmaker Richard Kroehling takes a much more personal
and subjective approach to the subject. Sometimes that leads to powerful
moments, but other times it clouds the film’s focus. Without question,
Kroehling incorporates some haunting verse that illuminates the
incomprehensible in After: Poetry Destroys Silence, which opens Friday
in New York.
To
its credit, After has one standout moment that will truly make your hair
stand on end. It comes when poet and actor Geza Rohrig (best known for Son of Saul) reads his poem “Aushwitz,” which includes a line recalling German
tourists speaking the words “never,” but also “again.” Its resonance for this
time of skyrocketing hatred directed at Jews is absolutely off the charts.
On
the other hand, After includes rather confusing hybrid dramatic
vignettes starring Melissa Leo and Bo Corre, who seem to also be exploring their
tragic family history. These add confusion rather than clarity. Indeed,
Kroehling periodically widens the film field of reference to discuss poetic
responses to other forms of trauma. Arguably, a subject with the weighty significance
of the Holocaust can carry the film on its own, without more “contemporary”
reference points.
Still,
there are memorable passages, like an archival recording of Paul Celan reading “Todesfuge,”
in a dry ghostly voice that sounds reminiscent of T.S. Eliot’s appropriately deathly
tones on his classic reading of “The Waste Land.”
Like Barnabas Collins’s coffin in Dark Shadows, the ancient sarcophagus
holding this notorious Swedish land-owner is chained and padlocked. That ought
to tell you to keep the heck away. Nevertheless, the Count’s story piques the
interest of a traveling English scholar. Once again, curiosity does what it
often does in Mark Gatiss’s Count Magnus (part of the A Ghost Story
for Christmas annual series in the UK), which airs on participating PBS
stations.
Mr.
Wraxhall is not a bad fellow, but he can be a bit much. However, he is such an
earnest semi-professional scholar, Froken de la Gardie happily allows him to
catalogue her disordered family library. Initially, Wraxhall is quite struck by
a glaring portrait of her notorious ancestor, Count Magnus. Then, when he
discovers papers referencing the Count’s “black pilgrimage,” his curiosity gallops
out of control.
At
some point, the family took the precaution of chaining up the Count’s grand
coffin and locking the crypt’s wrought iron door. Only the local Deacon holds key,
to maintain its sanctity. Unfortunately, Wraxhall might sound like a pretentious
twit, but his fingers are surprisingly stealthy. However, he could very well
open a Pandora’s box.
In
fact, Jason Watkins might overdue Wraxhall’s annoying naivete. On the other
hand, Allan Corduner plays the Deacon with a slyly suspicious attitude that
perfectly suits the genre. Having portrayed a lot of working-class horror
characters, fans will be interested to see MyAnna Buring shifting gears as the appropriately
regal as Wraxhall’s hostess.
The science of both photography and medicine have advanced enormously since
the 1880s. This film will make you grateful on both scores. It might feature
the most striking use of 3D ever, yet it also incorporates Nineteenth Century
stereoscopic photographic techniques. If you want to watch it, see it now,
because it is only intended for theaters. However, viewers should understand
Deimantas Narkevicius’s Twittering Soul is a very different kind of
film, which is now showing at Anthology Film Archives.
Narkevicius
very literally transports viewers back to the 1880s in Southern Lithuanian. It
is an era defined by folklore, before the rise of mass media. Consequently,
characters discuss witches and fairies as if they are obviously real, even
though the viewers never see them.
Frankly,
it is hard to embrace any of the figures as characters, per se. Due to his
stereoscopic techniques, Narkevicius was technical unable to film close-up
shots. However, his masterfully composed frames often look like museum
dioramas. You truly feel like you could reach in and pick up a cast-member, as
if they were figurines.
Arguably,
the closest comp film would be Lech Majewski’s The Mill and the Cross,
which translates the canvases of Pieter Bruegel into a film. Yet, Majewski
still offered his cast greater opportunities for characterization (in fact,
many viewers might have overlooked the excellent work of Michael York and
Rutger Hauer in Majewski’s masterwork). Conversely, Twittering Soul is
even more immersive—in the truest sense of the word. The 3D visions of hidden
valleys and grottos vividly create a sense of depth that rivals full-fledged VR
films.
Narkevicius
also recreates the tactile sensations of nature, as if you were truly there. It
is debatable how much drama viewers could take in, under such circumstance. In
fact, there were even physical concerns for Narkevicius, who explained during
the opening night Q&A, he deliberately kept the film relatively short (70-some
minutes), because the stereoscopic process activates twice as many optical receptors,
or something like that.
This is why its not a bad idea to go into the office at least a few days a
week. Evan Shaw thought he was doing jobs for an ultra-double-secret division
of the CIA. He was recruited by an old trusted colleague, but it turns out he
has been under new management for several years. Upon learning the truth, Shaw
decides to file a grievance in Roel Reine’s Classified, which is now
available on VOD.
Shaw
almost left the assassination business, but his old friend Kevin Angler lured
him back. He was ready to walk away and spend the rest of his life with Monica
Walker, but after her accidental death (which are usually suspicious in his
secretive world), Shaw doubled down on the lone wolf lifestyle. Now, Shaw
travels from one port-of-call to another, picking up his coded instructions from
newspaper classified ads. However, in recent years, his targets changed from
cartel bosses and warlords to corporate tycoons and scientists. Yet, he needed
a maverick MI6 agent like Kacey to put the pieces together for him.
Of
course, he initially refuses to believe, until he starts verifying much of her
intel, including Angler’s obituary. Soon, they are off to Malta, where the Shaw
was originally recruited. Unfortunately, the super-stealthy assassin never
realized his duplicitous employers GPS-chipped him, so they know he is coming.
Frankly,
Malta is the perfect setting for Classified, given it was recently governed
by PM Jospeh Muscat, whose government was found “collectively responsible” for
the political assassination of investigative journalist Daphne Carauna Galizia.
If there is a capitol of corruption, it would be Malta.
The
tiny EU nation also apparently hands out production tax-credits like candy,
while allowing films crews to stage all kinds of pyrotechnics around the
islands most picturesque tourist attractions. One thing Classified has
going for it is scenic locales—and it is pretty much the only thing.
To
be fair, Aaron Eckhart is reliably grizzled as Shaw. However, it is glaringly
obvious Abigail Breslin had zero firearms training. Her one-handed grips with
absolutely no recoil would even raise the eyebrows of Amish pacifists. Breslin’s
rapport with Eckhart isn’t great, but it is horrible either, but it hardly
matters in a film like this.
Dr. Eli Adler’s new patient will be such a tricky case, he might benefit
from consulting with the child psychologist in The Sixth Sense, if he
were available (but obviously he’s not, as we all remember). Young, disturbed
Noah Sawyer does not see “dead people,” at least not exactly. However, he has
plenty of horrifying visions. Inconveniently, his doctor also starts exhibiting
symptoms of instability in creator Sarah Thorp’s ten-episode Before,
which premieres today on Apple TV+.
If
he were a patient, Adler would tell himself he needs to talk about the suicide
of his wife Lynn. On some level, he understands how badly he is coping, but he
has no intention of changing. Consequently, he is seriously considering closing
his practice until his next patient crawls through his doggy-door (frankly, it
is hard to believe any lower Manhattan brownstone would have one in this day
and age, but so be it).
Frankly,
Adler has no thoughts of treating Sawyer when he returns the incommunicative boy
to his latest foster mother, Denise. Yet, fatefully, it is the same Sawyer a
social worker colleague hoped to refer to him. Sawyer is a difficult patient,
who periodically erupts in fits of violence brought on by visions of parasitic
worms borrowing under his skin and black spectral forms billowing around him.
He also cries out for help in Old Dutch.
Of
course, Adler could hardly judge Sawyer to harshly. He is regularly plagued by
hallucinations of his late wife. As a result, he maybe understands Sawyer
better than any other shrink could, especially when he starts seeing some of
the visions tormenting his patient.
It
is hard to judge from the trailer whether Apple is positioning Before as
horror (they are premiering it on 10/25, after all) or serious psychological drama.
There are indeed darkly uncanny dynamics in play. Yet, the episodes themselves
are much more ambiguous when it comes to tone and genre elements. It shares a thematic
kinship with films like Branagh’s’ Dead Again and Hitchcock’s Spellbound,
but it is envisioned through a much more sinister lens. In fact, The Sixth
Sense is not a terrible comp, in terms of vibe.
Yet,
it works to a surprising extent thanks to Billy Crystal’s surprisingly earnest
and restrained portrayal of Dr. Adler. His performance is scrupulously (even
rigidly) straight, without the slightest hint of comedy. Frankly, it is hard to
find precedent for this serious star-turn amongst his previous releases.
In
fact, restraint serves Before well, as in the case of Hope Davis, as
Adler’s crisply professional (but not completely detached) pediatric colleague,
Dr. Jane Wilkinson. Rosie Perez also dials it down, but she is still probably
the show’s most expressive adult as Denise, who refuses to give up on Sawyer,
because of her own troubled history in the foster system.
LIKE A DRAGON: YAKUZA delivers all duplitious intrigue and brutal street fighting yakuza genre fans appreciate. It fact, it is one of the more successful (and violent) streaming series adaptations of a video game yet released. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
He is an alien body-snatcher who decided to become a good guy—sort of.
Sure, he still bites off heads, but only those of bad people. Granted, in most
films, Venom would be the monster, as indeed he was during most of his first
film. Nevertheless, Eddie Brock learned to share his life and his headspace
with his parasitic companion. Currently, they are fugitives from justice, but
no arrangement is ever perfect. Unfortunately, something from the symbiote’s
world starts hunting Venom and Brock, with no regard for human collateral
damage, in director-screenwriter Kelly Marcel’s Venom: The Last Dance,
which opens tomorrow only in theaters.
Currently,
Brock and Venom are laying low (but not low enough) in Mexico, where Venom’s
margarita mixing techniques draw unwanted notice. Brock wants to return to
America, where he can work to clear his name, so he figures New York City will
be the one place where they will not stand out. Getting there will be the
trick.
They
also need to put some distance between themselves and the large assassin kaiju
that tracked Venom from his original space-time-dimension-continuum. As Venom
explains to the alarmed Brock, they carry an alien artifact that would free the
creature’s master, a malevolent titan intent on destroying all organic life, in
all the various universes. That would be a bad thing. Fortunately, the codex-thingy
is only visible to the hunter-creature when Venom takes his full black
spiderman-looking form—but it is hard to keep the symbiote bottled up.
Eventually,
Brock and Venom encounter more symbiotes in a secret government facility
cleverly located below Area 51. Unfortunately, that location prompts discussion
of the worst aspect of Last Dance: its pronounced and persistent hostility
to the American military. There is not one single military character presented in
a positive light. That definitely includes the judgmental, shoot-first-ask-questions-later
Gen. Rex Strickland, despite his third act heroics. Most are just faceless
grist for the mill, so viewers are expected to feel nothing when Venom kills
several of them.
Let’s
be honest, there is no way any film would portray multiple school teachers or
public defenders as soulless villains. Why does Marvel consider it acceptable
to uniformly demonize American military personnel, especially when they sacrifice
so much more than teachers to serve our nation? In the case of Marcel’s screenplay,
this bias is distractingly noticeable.
It
is a shame because the symbiotic rapport between Brock and Venom still works.
You can say Tom Hardy has good chemistry with himself. His Venom-psycho voice
still gets big laughs. It is also cool to see some of the best Venom CGI
effects are reserved for comedic bits, like the symbiote’s titular last dance
with fan favorite character Mrs. Chen, again played by the returning Peggy Lu,
who can hold her own opposite the big serpentine guy.
Perhaps fittingly, few have so regularly defied death and straddled the “uncanny
valley” as has Alfred Hitchcock. For instance, his original introductions for Alfred
Hitchcock Presents were “resurrected” and colorized for the 1985 reboot of
the classic anthology series. Now, he narrates his own documentary from beyond
the grave. Of course, it really isn’t Hitchcock. It is narrator Alistair
McGowan emulating his voice and persona. One can imagine the questions Hitch
might have asked about these projects, like how much was his estate paid and
did the checks clear? Regardless, Hitchcock is still quite entertaining in Mark
Cousins’ My Name is Alfred Hitchcock, which opens this Friday in New
York.
At
times, McGowan’s Hitchcock sounds somewhat like Howard Suber in The Power of Film, especially during discussion of his first theme—his characters’ pursuit
of “escape”—which echoes Suber’s emphasis on metaphorically and physically “trapped”
central characters. However, in the case of Hitchcock, it feels considerably
more valid.
Cousins’
other themes should strike Hitchcock fans as equally sound: “desire,” “loneliness,”
“time” (which should be speeded up or slow-down, to the protagonist’s
discomfort), fulfillment, and a truncated discussion of “height.” Indeed, considering Hitch’s use of Rushmore in
North by Northwest, the bell tower in Vertigo, and the Statue of
Liberty in Saboteur, Hitchcock was arguably the king of commanding
heights.
Naturally,
Cousins incorporates extensive film clips, including shrewd and liberal use of Psycho
and The Birds. Although often unfairly overlooked, Torn Curtain and
The Trouble with Harry also get substantial screentime, but poor Topaz
remains a red-headed stepchild amid his filmography. Still, Cousins serves
up a reasonable survey that might prompt viewers to revisit films they maybe
have not seen in years, like I Confess, starring Montgomery Cliff, a
refreshingly sympathetic portrait of a Catholic priest, “trapped” in a Hitchcockian
situation.
Angela Merkel has blood on her hands. By making Germany energy-dependent on
Russia, she enriched and empowered Putin—even after he annexed Crimea and
invaded the Donetsk region. Her perverse insistence on including Huawei in
Germany’s telecom network, despite her own security services’ contrary advice,
did more to weaken the NATO alliance than anything Trump would ever dare. If
the 21st Century is dominated by Xi and Putin, Merkel will deserve a
good portion of the credit, but she would probably argue it was all worth it to
sell a few thousand more Volkswagens in China. It will take a lot to level her
karma (just ask the citizens of Mariupol), but maybe solving a handful of
murders will be a start in the first two TV-movie length installments of Miss
Merkel, which premieres today on MHz Choice.
Merkel
has retired to the Uckermark countryside, without any visible guilt or shame.
She just wants to walk her pub, Helmut, and bask in the gratitude of the world’s
dictators. However, dead bodies start to turn up around her, which is why her
husband Joachim Sauer and her “Guarding Tess” protection agent, Mike start
calling her “Miss Merkel,” in honor of Miss Marple.
In
“Murder in the Castle,” Merkel is just starting to adjust to retirement and life
as a local celebrity. As such, she reluctantly agrees to attend the local lord’s
restaging of his ancestor’s murder—and wouldn’t you know it, history repeats
itself. Somehow, he was poisoned in the wine cellar, which was locked from the
inside, lazy Inspector Hannemann writes it off as a suicide. Of course, Merkel
knows better.
The
surviving family, an ex, the sort of ex-step-daughter, and the resentful
current trophy wife are all suspects, as is Marie Hortsmann, who carries the
victim’s unborn baby and his ironclad non-disclosure agreement. At least Stefan Cantz’s adaptation of David
Safier’s novel winnows down to a full two suspects, which is one more than you
usually get from detective shows.
Katharina
Thalberg definitely strives for Jessica Fletcher vibes, but her Merkel carries
a lot of baggage. Her chemistry never quite clicks with Thorsten Merten as “Achim”
Sauer, either. His performance is the wrong kind of sour, depicting the former
camera-shy spouse-of-state as rather pompous and socially awkward. Frankly,
Thalberg develops better rapport with Tim Kalkhof as her constantly stressed-out
bodyguard.
Frankly,
the second mystery, “Murder in the Graveyard,” features better supporting work,
especially including Sven Martinek, playing mortician Kurt Kunkel, who is
called to collect a murder victim from the cemetery, which obviously seems
somewhat ironic. Naturally, Hannemann decides the victim just got drunk and
accidentally buried himself, after smacking the back of his head with a shovel.
Merkel
and Mike quickly discover the deceased had been blackmailing Charu Borscht, the
unfaithful wife of Kunkel’s rival undertaker. Her secret lover happens to be
Peter Kunkel, the mortician’s son, who also happens to lead the local Satanic
cult.
Since "The American Way” is now off the table, if there is one thing Superman
still represents, it would be hope. There is a lot of hope in this episode,
including a wedding—maybe. The thing is nothing has gone to plan in Smallville
lately. Yet, things are looking up at the start of “A Perfectly Good Wedding,” this
week’s episode of Superman & Lois, which premieres tonight on CW.
As
viewers know from the final minutes of “Always My Hero,” the Kents have some
very good news in store for them. Wisely, director Gregory Smith and writers
Greg Kitson & Max Kronick eschew dialogue for the happy celebration that
opens this week’s installment. However, they are keenly aware they are not yet
out of the woods. In fact, Luthor still has the upper hand, unless Lane
convinces his longtime accomplice Gretchen Kelly to flip on her boss.
While
they bide their time, Lane volunteers to host her colleague Chrissy Beppo’s
wedding to the reformed Kyle Cushing, believing it is time Smallville had
something to celebrate. That does not mean the Kent household is drama free. In
fact, for the time being, only Jonathan, the newest “Super” Kent, will be
super-hero-ing, and only sparingly so, like a Metropolis mall fire—that predictably
turns into something more.
Considering
the heavy emotional toll of the first three episodes of the season, “A
Perfectly Good Wedding” offers viewers a chance to catch their breath and
regroup, while still advancing the storyline. That said, the first five minutes
might choke-up die-hard fans.
The mezzotint print-making process might seem old-fashioned, but one of its
leading practitioners was M.C. Esher, whom M.R. James might have appreciated,
at least for his use of initials. Typically, mezzotints never change, but not
the one in this M.R. James short story. Understandably, that rather bedevils
its new custodian in Mark Gatiss’s The Mezzotint (part of the A Ghost
Story for Christmas annual series in the UK), which airs on participating PBS
stations.
Edward
Williams definitely stays true to his school. He curates the traditional
Ox-bridge-ish university’s decorative arts museum and spends most of personal
time at the U club with his old college mates. Each day is largely the same,
but that is how he likes it, until a mysterious mezzotint arrives for his appraisal.
Williams
had not thought much of it, but his golfing friend Binks sees more in it. In
fact, he describes a rather different picture, with a moon rising above the
country house and a shadowy figure just starting to enter the frame. Weirdly,
those elements had not been in the picture before, because, as Williams soon
deduces, it changes slightly every time he looks at it. That sounds crazy, but
Williams’s old school chums Garwood and Nisbet confirm it, much to their own
surprise. It confuses all the three alumni, but Williams also feels an uneasy suspicion
that the dark figure will do something horrible when he finally enters the
house.
Of
course, the mezzotint surely must represent events that occurred when it was
printed in the 1800s, right? Yet, to Williams, it feels like a tragedy slowly unfolding
before his eyes, especially when he learns he might have a personal connection
to its town of origin. That last bit is all Gatiss, but it is a nice macabre
little wrinkle. Regardless, it is strange no previous anthology series has
taken a shot adapting it, especially considering it requires no special effects—just
a quality print-maker.
In
fact, this is one of Gatiss’s best “Ghost Stories for Christmas,” or just plain
“Ghost Stories,” if you are watching on PBS. The mezzotint is a clever gimmick
and Gatiss maximizes its full Twilight Zone-ish potential.
Fan Bingbing got off easy compared to some celebrities that have been canceled
in China, but her films were still effectively blacklisted. This one could get
her canceled all over again. That doesn’t mean it is bad. To the contrary, good
movies are more likely to be censored than derivative mediocrity. However, frank
lesbian content is absolutely a no-no in Xi’s China (it is also frowned upon by
most of his allies, including Putin’s Russia, Iran, and Hezbollah). Regardless,
Fan has her best role in years (even before her blacklisting) in Han Shuai’s Green
Night, which is now available on VOD.
Jin
Xia works as a security-screener at the airport, but it is decidedly unsafe for
the naturalized Chinese immigrant at home with her Korean husband, Lee
Seung-hun. (Although their marriage is never explicitly explained, it seems
likely his pastor helped “arrange” it.) Consequently, she has been trying to live
a separate life—one that the unnamed “Green-Haired Girl” barges into.
Jin
Xia rightly sensed something was amiss with her, because she is a full-time
drug mule. Nevertheless, her supervisor insists on letting the green-coifed
woman go. Perversely, Ms. Green invites herself “home” to Jin Xia’s
not-secret-enough bolt-hole, to get replacement shoes for the ones she sacrificed
to her diligence. From there, they embark on a series of nocturnal
misadventures, somewhat in the tradition of John Landis’s Into the Night, but
much darker. In a further departure, after surviving nerve-wracking encounters with
Jin Xia’s husband and the angry dealer employing the Green Hair, both women start
developing a mutual sexual attraction.
So,
good luck watching this anywhere in Mainland China. It is a shame, because this
is easily Fan’s best work since I Am Not Madame Bovary. She is both
gritty and alluring as Jin Xia. Frankly, she looks appropriately exhausted from
enduring a constant state of peril.
Lee
Joo Young is also seductive, but in a disruptive and de-stabilizing way, like a
darker (and more sexually ambiguous) Melanie Griffith in Something Wild.
She is trouble right from the start and steadily more so.
GUNDAM: REQUIEM FOR VENGEANCE vividly immerses viewers in a gritty vision of futuristic mecha warfare. It also notably presents the franchise war from the viewpoint of the other side (sort of like a GUNDAM ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT). CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
The 1980s were easily the best decade to be in high school. The economy was
booming and there was no social media, but we had the freedom to hang with our
friends at the mall without any adult supervision. Not surprisingly, all the
other generations are jealous, so they keep trying to tear the Eighties down. This
time, they want you to believe our super-conservative parents (the ones who
dropped us off at the arcade with a fistful of quarters), were paranoid alarmists
caught up in groundless “Satanic panics.” Nevertheless, a student winds up very dead,
under really macabre circumstances, in creator Matthew Scott Kane’s
eight-episode Hysteria!, which premieres today on Peacock.
Dylan
Campbell only has two real friends, Jordy and Spud, but that is just enough to
form a terrible heavy metal garage band. Nobody cares about their group,
because there is so much cool music in the 80’s. Then, the body of Ryan Hudson,
the varsity quarterback, is discovered, apparently mutilated in a ritualistic
manner, so Campbell hatches an opportunistic plan to capitalize on the sudden
interest in Satanism.
His
bandmates think he is crazy, but when Campbell’s popular crush, Judith, agrees
to be the first member of his phony “cult,” they quickly recruit new members.
They also become suspects, when busybody Church-Lady Tracy Whitehead starts
whipping up Satanic panic mania. However, she clearly knows more about the
secret dealings in Happy Hollow than she lets on, starting with the fact her
daughter Faith was abducted with Hudson. Somehow, she was released and returned
home. Faith’s memory is a little fuzzy on the details, but it is just as well,
since Whitehead is not eager for her to talk to the police.
Bearing
the stress of the town’s suspicions takes a toll on Campbell’s family,
especially his mother Linda, who starts having terrifying possession-like
experiences. Yet, it is initially worth the hassle for him, because he gets to
finally date Judith. Campbell is also fortunate Chief of Police Dandridge remains
skeptical of all the Satanism hokum. He even runs interference for the heavy
metal trio, but it would still probably be better for Campbell if the Chief did
not learn he is dating his granddaughter.
Hysteria!
probably
sounds like a lot of fun—and sometimes it is—but too often, it undermines its
good vibes. Weirdly, it never really embraces 1980s nostalgia, aside from the
hair band soundtrack (including blasts from the past, like Lita Ford’s “Kiss Me
Deadly”). Yet, what really smothers viewer enthusiasm like a wet blanket is the
unsurprising revelation of the “real villain,” who is a predictable and
divisive cliché.
Still,
Hysteria! boasts the great Bruce Campbell chewing the scenery and jutting
out his chin as down-to-Earth Chief Dandridge. Campbell plays it straight
instead of falling back on his snarky larger-than-life persona, but he still
lands all the funniest lines. Genre fans will also be delighted to see Barbara
Crampton and Jeffrey Combs appearing briefly in the fifth episode flashback.
Once
again, Julie Bowen plays a convincing mom, but she also has some impressive
freakouts as Linda Campbell. Nolan North (whose voiceover work includes Green Lantern
for DC animation and the Green Goblin for Marvel gaming projects) has some nice
rapport with her as Campbell’s dad.
In 1978, Superman still proudly proclaimed himself a defender of “truth,
justice, and the American way.” Naturally, the Soviet Union would not be too
thrilled about that. Finally, they have an evil plan to defeat the Man of Steel
and expand the oppressive Iron Curtain in Robert Venditi’s six-issue bind-up of
Superman ’78: The Metal Curtain, illustrated by Gavin Guidry, which is
now on-sale.
Obviously,
Christopher Reeve is everyone’s favorite Superman, especially based on the
reception for the recent Super/Man documentary. That is why Venditi’s
Superman limited series set in the continuity of the Ilya & Alexander
Salkind-produced Reeve films is such a cool idea. In fact, it is a blast of
nostalgic pleasure to see Reeve’s Superman saving the world, even in comic
form.
Cleverly,
Venditi expands the Salkindverse to include other DC characters, like Brainiac
(unseen, but referred to), who trapped the Kryptonian city of Kandor (along
with Superman’s parents) in a bell-jar.
Fortunately, Superman rescued them in a previous adventure, but he has not yet
figured out how to restore them. However, he can still take Lois Lane to the
Fortress of Solitude, to meet the parents—and yes, his dad looks like Brando.
Unfortunately,
Superman must leave in a hurry, as he often does, because he hears an SOS from
an American military pilot under attack from a Kryptonite-powered mecha-suit.
In the Salkindverse, longstanding DC super-villain Metallo is now the Soviets’
latest and most powerful super-weapon. Of course, the socialist system persistently
lagged behind the innovations of the capitalistic West, so they stole the tech
from Lex Luthor, which rather pushes his nose out of joint.
By
far, the best part of Metal Curtain is the flamboyantly roguish Gene
Hackman-looking Lex Luthor. He might have his flaws, but at least he is a
capitalist rather than a Communist. So, maybe Luthor is not completely evil,
unlike Communist propaganda, which has unhinged Melallo, a.k.a. Captain Nikolaev.
Naturally, to maximize the propaganda value, his masters want the world to
witness his victory over Superman.
Is extremist caampus activism harmful to students' mental health. Campus free speech advocate Greg Lukianoff & Dr. Jonathan Haidt make a compelling case, for compassionate reasons in THE CODDLING OF THE AMERICAN MIND. EPOCH TIMES review up here.
Everyone in Chadder Vale knows Jim Bracknell remains traumatized by a vicious
physical assault, but extremist environmental demonstrators still form a daily
mob outside his fracking facility, obviously hoping to intimidate the emotionally-damaged
man. That is so like them, isn’t it? Former Met cop Riya Ajunwa claims to be
his friend, but she never arrests his tormentors, presumably because there are
so many. However, when his assailant gets an early release, Ajunwa immediately
gets in his face. The surprise homecoming stirs up big trouble in creator-writer
Andrew Buchan’s six-episode Passenger, which premieres today on BritBox.
People
seem to end up in Chadder Vale. Ajunwa relocated with her husband, but stayed
to look after her now ex’s slightly addled mother. Yet, you just cannot take
the big city instincts out of the copper. Indeed, Ajunwa rightly suspects the
recent rash of strange happenings in the woods must mean something. However,
her boss, Chief Constable Linda Markel, only cares about stolen trash “bins”
(as they annoyingly call them in the UK). It sounds trivial to Ajunwa, but the
thing is, there really have been quite a few stolen.
Presumably,
the missing persons are somehow related to the unseen thing that apparently
escaped into the woods during the prologue. At least Katie Wells did not stay
missing long. She reappeared a day later, just in time to enjoy her disgraced
father’s release from prison. She would be worried about Eddie Wells
potentially threatening her Turkish boyfriend, but Mehmet Shah turns up dead,
having fallen from the roof of Bracknell’s plant—suspiciously if you ask
Ajunwa, but not so, according to Markel. It turns out there might be some answers on the darkweb, they really just lead to more questions.
If
the dark web had been around during the time of Twin Peak’s first
season, Laura Palmer’s profile would have been all over it. That is clearly the
vibe Buchan was going for, but he spends much more time and energy setting up a
prospective second season than delivering any degree of payoff in the here and
now. While Passenger liberally borrows elements from many shows that
came before it, Buchan’s six episodes ultimately amount to less than meets the
eye. It almost feels like the product of a small-town mystery Mad Libs.
That
cobbled-together-feeling narrative is a shame, because the ensemble cast is
quite strong. Wunmi Mosaku convincingly portrays Ajunwa as both a
sympathetically neurotic mess and a forceful cop not to be trifled with. She
also has terrific chemistry with Hubert Hanowicz playing her schlubby almost-but-not-quite-boyfriend,
Jakub Makowski, an immigrant Polish mechanic.
Next time your absolute favorite pop star of all time, as of this week, has a
public meltdown, maybe you shouldn’t blame their history of drug abuse. Maybe
they just have a case of the Smile. Where was this franchise when Lindsay Lohan
could have used it as an excuse? Of course, horror fans know such is the case
for Skye Riley. Newly clean and sober, Riley is on the verge of launching a
comeback tour, when she suddenly witnesses something very disturbing. She must
grin and bear it in director-screenwriter Parker Finn’s Smile 2, which
opens this Friday in theaters.
Even
though he (barely) survived to see the sequel, Joel, the cop and ex-boyfriend
of last film’s main character, still has no surname. However, he fully
understands the nature of what attached itself to him, so he heads to lair of a
brutal drug lord to pass it onto someone deserving. This is a tense and gritty
scene that justifies Kyle Gallner’s return.
Through
a chaotic chain of events, the “Smile,” or whatever, latches onto a
smalltime dealer, Lewis Fregoli, who happens to supply Vicodin to the
on-the-wagon, but over-worked Riley (his name is also an in-joke). Inevitably,
when she comes over for some Dr. House pills, she finds Fregoli in the midst of
his final grinning freakout.
To
follow-up to his original breakout hit film, it makes sense for Finn to focus
on a celebrity like Riley, because the tabloid press will predictably magnify all
her tantrums and breakdowns. Whenever the invisible entity torments her, it is embarrassingly
public.
However,
Finn goes too big and too crazy. Unlike the grounded visceral violence of
Gallner’s prologue, Riley’s descent into madness features one conspicuous hallucination
after another. Frankly, so many scenes are so clearly unreal, a good deal of
viewers will likely check-out. That said, there is one nightmarish set-piece built
around Riley’s Vogue-like choreography that is genuinely inspired.
There was a time once when MTV was a vital network with original music-oriented
programming that people actually watched. Yet, somehow, back in their early
1980’s-prime, they did not appreciate Cameron Crowe’s first film, a documentary
profile of Tom Petty and his Heartbreaker bandmates, as they began promoting
their Long After Dark album. If it had premiered five years later, it
might have been a mainstay on MTV, but instead it disappeared after one
late-night 1983 broadcast. Long sought after by fans, Crowe’s Tom Petty:
Heartbreakers Beach Party, co-directed by Doug Dowdle and Phil Savenick, screens
nationwide this Thursday and Sunday, followed by a special twenty-minute
package of bonus footage.
Reportedly,
Heartbreakers Beach Party helped inspire This is Spinal Tap, but
MTV just did not get it. Stylistically, it shares an eccentric kinship with Les
Blank’s long-unreleased Leon Russell documentary, A Poem is a Naked Person.
Instead of conventional talking heads, each looks for offbeat but telling
moments and neither feared the occasional distraction. Crowe even indulges in
periodic sight gags, which probably would have endeared it to the MTV audience
had they had more time to acclimate to the humor of Late Night with David
Letterman, and the like.
Crowe
also injects himself into the film as the host and on-camera interviewer, who
is so nebbish, he even mocks himself. Yet, in retrospect, his presence hardly
feels unusual after several decades of Michael Moore, Morgan Spurlock, Louis
Theroux, and other idiosyncratic documentarians who appear in their own films.
Regardless, viewers are more likely apt to remember Petty hailed from Gainesville,
Florida after watching the band giggling as the town’s mayor tried to praise
Petty’s upstanding moral character, at the ceremony awarding him the key to the
city, than they would from a series of drily conventional interviews with his
high school music teacher.
Unlike
Russell, Petty seemed to appreciate and cooperate with the film’s off-kilter
sensibility, by suggesting Crowe conduct their interviews in the backseat of a
rented limo. Regardless, the Petty family certainly embraces the film now, since
his daughter, music video director Adria Petty, co-hosts the bonus featurette
with Crowe.
Most people still sufficiently value their individuality enough to be
terrified by the notion of a hive-mind, or at least we can so hope. Weirdly,
the town of Midwich gave birth to a hive-mind, when more than a dozen women
fell pregnant under highly unusual circumstances. The kids are not alright and
the adults are nervous (at least they should be) in creator-writer David Farr’s
The Midwich Cuckoos: Village of the Damned, which premieres Thursday on Sundance Now.
John
Wyndham’s novel The Midwich Cuckoos was twice adapted as Village of
the Damned, so for American audiences they combined both titles, presumably
to avoid confusion. Arguably, this might be helpful, because unlike previous
adaptations, this Midwich Cuckoos does not look so much like Village
of the Damned.
While
family counselor Dr. Susannah Zellaby was in London, an uncanny blackout hit the
small town of Midwich. Everyone inside the city limits passed out unconscious,
even investigating authorities who entered wearing gasmasks. A few months
later, every woman of child-bearing age finds themselves unexpectedly pregnant.
Not surprisingly, this causes great distress in many households, until the authorities
reveal the big picture.
The
national government sweeps in to manage the situation, but Home Office rep Bryony
Cummings is surprised every mother decides to keep their bundles of joy. The Midwich
mothers grow close to each other, not that they have much choice. The government
essentially confines them to Midwich, in exchange for footing all their bills.
They also sponsor Dr. Zellaby’s group therapy sessions, which usually also
include her own grown but not yet mature daughter, Cassie Stone.
The
quickly developing children are intense, but most of the Midwich parents try to
kid themselves into thinking they are still healthy and loving youngsters.
However, Zoe Moran sours on her Midwich daughter, Hannah, after she uses her
Midwichy mind-control to force her Midwich mom to injure herself. Unfortunately,
neither Dr. Zellaby nor her domestic partner, Sam Clyde are ready to listen to
her yet—but presumably he will soon, judging from the in media res prologue.
The
trio of directors, Alice Troughton, Jennifer Perrott, and Borkur Sigborsson, do
a nice job building tension, but they were undermined Farr’s terrible aesthetic
decisions. Both the classic 1960 film and John Carpenter’s remake of Village
of the Damned, get tremendous visual mileage from the eerily similar look of
the Midwich children. However, they no longer have the same creepy blond
pageboy cut, boys and girls alike. They still share the same cold, distant
demeanor, but they now check all the required diversity boxes.
Somehow,
Farr completely missed the point that the uniformity of the Midwich children
makes them unsettling. They actually illustrate the notion that a lack of
diversity is profoundly unhealthy, both in terms of physical characteristics
and diversity of thought. In both films, the mere sight of the nearly identical
children is enough to jangle viewers’ nerves. Farr denied the series directors
that visual shortcut, forcing them to start fresh with each scene.
Judge George Jeffreys was the Roy Bean of the Stuart Era. The hanging judge
probably made his share of ghosts if you believe in that sort of thing. However,
a haunting allegedly plays a role in a case the old witch-finder presides over
in Mark Gatiss’s Martin’s Close, based on another M.R. James short
story, which airs this month on participating PBS stations.
Frankly,
an elitist squire like John Martin never really believed the law applied to
him, but it most definitely does when Judge Jeffreys presides. He might be
over-zealous, but the ancient jurist is incorruptible. Nevertheless, this case
will be unconventional.
Martin
stands accused of murdering Ann Clark, a “simple” village girl, whom the squire
“trifled” with, for his own ironic amusement. Tragically, when her clinginess
grew inconvenient, he somehow disposed of her, permanently. However, according
to witnesses called by Dolben, the King’s Counsel, Clark’s ghost returned to
implicate her murderer.
In
terms of fairness, this might be one of Judge Jeffreys’ best trials. However,
from a modern legal perspective, much of the proceedings with be highly
questionable. It also rather prompts an odd question. If the accused did indeed
murder someone, but they return as a ghost, should the resulting sentence be
reduced, since the victim is not completely gone?
One
thing is certain, nobody would want to be prosecuted by anyone who resembles Peter
Capaldi. In this adaptation, four or five characters receive roughly equal
screen-time, but Capaldi is just as magnetically watchable as ever portraying crafty
Dolben. Elliot Levey is rather pompous, in an aptly judgy kind of way as sour
old Jeffreys.
In the movies, the have’s are always stupid and lazy, whereas the have-not’s
are always smart and virtuous. In real life, there are plenty of intelligent
wealthy people and creepy working-class morons, but they make poor fodder for class
warfare propaganda. You will not find
any such inconvenient characters in this unnecessary remake of a vastly superior Thai film. Two scholarship kids still have one advantage—a knack for
taking standardized tests—that they do their best to fraudulently monetize in Bad
Genius, directed by J.C. Lee, which is now in theaters and on digital.
Lynn
Kang has a real shot at getting into either MIT or Julliard, but she and her father
Meng disagree regarding which she should apply to. Regardless, her upper-crust
classmate Grace Simon quickly realizes Kang’s brain could help her too. Despite
some reservations, Kang develops a method of signaling test answers to Simon’s
clique, for a fee, of course. She makes good money until the dumb old adults notice
suspicious patterns.
Unfortunately,
Kang loses her scholarship, but not her ambition. Needing money for Julliard
auditions, Kang agrees to a grand scheme in which she takes the SAT in a
crummy, poorly maintained Philly high school, where she will secretly text her
memorized answers back to her exploitive “friends” in suburban Seattle—but she
can’t do it alone. Of course, the only classmate smart enough to help her is
the painfully sensitive Bank Adedamola, the son of African immigrants (so much
for all those bogus complaints about standardized tests being culturally
biased).
The
emphasis on Adedamola’s immigrant identity is an example of how Lee’s adaptation
of Nattawut Poonpiriya’s like-titled Bad Genius, a briskly-paced teen
caper, evolved into such a downbeat, politicized buzzkill. The original Thai
film has a smart and entertainingly conspiratorial vibe. In contrast, Lee and
co-screenwriter Julius Onah constantly lecture viewers on inequality, which is
a lot less fun.
Ironically, Stephen Brigstocke’s debut sells quite well for a self-published
literary novel, especially considering he really never cared about sales. He
was writing for a very exclusive audience: Catherine Ravenscroft, her husband
Robert, and their anti-social son Nicholas. Unfortunately, for the
Ravenscrofts, the book is transparently based on her, revealing the darkest time
of her life. Yet, publication was only the first step in Brigstocke’s campaign
of vengeance in creator-director Alfonso Cuaron’s 7-part Disclaimer, based
on Renee Knight’s novel, which premieres today on Apple TV+.
The
series opens on a high note for Ravencroft, but a fall is coming. She is about
to accept a prestigious award for documentary producing and she finally
convinced her awkward, under-achieving son to move out of the house. After the
awards ceremony, she returns home, where she starts reading a book mailed to
her, The Perfect Stranger. It is not the prose the causes her to start
violently retching, but the content, because she easily recognizes herself in
those pages.
To
be honest, Brigstocke did not even write the book himself. His late wife Nancy did.
Sadly, she slowly imploded after their college-aged son Jonathan died while on
an Italian holiday, under murky circumstances that somehow involve Ravenscroft.
His grieving mother wrote the book based on police reports and the revealing
undeveloped photos he left behind. Many of them were sexually explicit pictures
of Ravencroft. Those same pictures will eventually find their way to Robert
Ravencroft, along with his own copy of The Perfect Stranger. However,
Brigstocke fully understands his target’s weakest point: her son Nicholas.
In
terms of style and tone, Disclaimer is closely akin to the “unreliable
narrator” genre exemplified by Gone Girl, except in this case, the
narrator, the omniscient voice of Indira Varma, is quite credible. Instead, the
author and readers are unreliable.
To
be perfectly clear, this series is only intended for mature adults. The early
episodes are highly charged sexually, whereas the final two are extremely
difficult to watch. However, there is a point to the horrifying acts they
depict. In some ways, Disclaimer could be a companion piece to Tar,
which also starred Cate Blanchett. Both directly address the excesses of cancel
culture, which Brigstocke shrewdly weaponizes against Ravenscroft.
Indeed,
Cuaron viscerally reminds us how much context is missing from supposedly
damning photos and cell phone videos. Frankly, Disclaimer shames us all
for being at least complacent and more likely complicit in this toxic practice
of personal destruction via cancellation and online dehumanization—and shame is
indeed the only fitting word for it.
Blanchett
is perfectly cast as Ravenscroft, showing how her elegant reserve slowly cracks
into a million pieces. She perfectly executes the dramatic jiu jitsu the
eventually lays the audience out flat. However, Leila George’s performance as
the young Catherine Ravenscroft is arguably even braver, given the demanding
physical nature of her work.
For
those accustomed to seeing Kevin Kline in light middle-aged rom-coms, it will
be shocking to see him decrepitly aged-up to play the sort of role we might
expect of Tom Wilkinson or Jim Broadbent. Yet, he deftly lures viewers in,
openly inviting us to identify with Brigstocke’s righteous fury.
Peacock's TEACUP (based on a Robert McCammon novel) employs several science fiction devices to tell a tale of apocalyptic horror, but it is also a compelling (and extreme) family drama. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
The damage and death toll of the 2023 Turkey-Syria Earthquake was very much
like the 2008 Sichuan earthquake. The magnitudes are not so important. The
severity of the destruction resulted from shoddy construction, abetted by high-level
government corruption and exacerbated by a slow and incompetent official relief
response. The public was outraged by Erdogan’s handling of the crisis. Yet, he
came back to win re-election anyway—almost miraculously. Some might call it a
curse instead. That probably includes some of the grieving survivors who share
their bitter experiences in Waad Al-Kateab’s Death Without Mercy, which
opens tomorrow in New York.
Probably
70% of Al-Kateab’s film consists of found primary sources, such as security cam
footage, handheld device videos, and news reports. As members of the
documentary community, who both previously worked with Al-Kateab, Fuad and Fadi
instinctively started recording themselves. The dramatic footage they captured
was devastatingly tragic and often absurdly Kafkaesque, but what it never shows
is any kind of coordinated government rescue operation, even though off-the-street
volunteers could hear buried people screaming under the rubble for several
days.
Death
Without Mercy
truly never pulls its punches, especially when it incorporates the “goodbye”
messages recorded by victims fatally trapped beneath debris. Yet, probably the
most damning segment is a government PSA message recorded months earlier,
promising a clean slate to any applicants with open zoning complaints.
Suddenly, ten-story buildings that were only zoned for four became legal, as a
gift to the people, offered by their loving government.
Frankly,
the Syrian government’s response was probably even worse, but there is less documentation,
because the Assad regime has turned the country into a closed pariah state. In
fact, the Syrian government largely relied on relief aid from the United
Nations (which we paid for), that was hopelessly slow in reaching victims,
because of gross bureaucratic incompetence.