Arthur
is not as nurturing as the android grandma in Ray Bradbury’s “I Sing the Body
Electric!” Not even close. To be fair, that was never his intended function. He
is a patrol robot, who was deployed during the “climate wars.” Those wars are
over and everyone lost. After a little makeshift reprogramming, Eva’s now
presumed dead father left Arthur to look after her. Unfortunately, Arthur is downright
“robotic” when it comes to following his directives. Ironically, that endangers
Eva in director-screenwriter Piotr Biedron’s The Last Spark of Hope,
which releasees today on VOD.
Those
who could, bugged out on spaceships bound for nowhere. Eva is relatively lucky
among those who remained. Her mountain-top camp remains higher than he worst of
the toxic atmosphere. Despite the risks, Eva most regularly ventures down in search
of supplies. One day, she returns home after Arthur’s monthly password has
already changed. Awkwardly, the password list is inside, but Arthur will not
let her enter without the password. There is nothing funny about this Catch-22
for Eva, because without the water inside, she dies.
In a
way, Last Spark is a very zeitgeisty film, but while most artificial intelligence
thrillers worry about AI’s taking too much initiative, Arthur is dangerous because
he is so blinkered by his rules and procedures. Arthur’s visual design is also
quite shrewd. He looks like one of broken down robots the Jawas were hawking in
the original Star Wars, but the obvious mileage makes his unreliableness
quite believable.
Of
course, some viewers might well ask how Eva could lose sight of something as
important as her killer robot’s passwords. That is a very Gen-X attitude,
reflecting an instinctive distrust of technology. Eva is several generations
younger than Gen-Z. Presumably, she grew up with very different attitudes
towards tech, despite witnessing the horrors of robotic war.
Most of
the conspiracy theories involving the CIA are complete nonsense. Sadly, they
have proved so bad at keeping their secrets, most of the crazy stuff they get blamed
for would have been exposed long ago by “whistle-blowers” or deep-cover moles. After
all, we know all about Project MK Ultra. MKEXE is sort of like that embarrassing
project cranked up to eleven. Yet, somehow, the CIA kept this one secret. Apparently,
they had a lot of help from a shadowy someone or something in
director-screenwriter Gerald Robert Waddell’s Project MKHEXE, which
premieres today on Screambox.
“Freelance”
photographer-filmmaker Tim Wilson was always the unstable one. That is why he
took his younger brother Sean’s suicide so hard. Compounding the guilt, he
ignored his brother’s bizarrely unhinged final call the night he died. Hoping
to make sense of it all, he unlocks Sean’s fun and steps through the looking
glass, into his conspiracy theory obsessions. He seemed to be researching
MKEXE, which was apparently another mind-control experiment, but with almost
supernatural overtones.
Whatever
it is, it covers its tracks. In fact, as soon as the Brother Tim starts
cataloging Brother Sean’s evidence, it mysteriously disappears. Even the
tormenting voice message deletes itself. It sounds crazy, but Tim’s not-quite
girlfriend Nicole saw enough to agree to help his brother investigate further—or
maybe she is just prospecting for a good story. Regardless, their resulting “documentary”
became a notoriously lost item of internet lore, somehow preserved here for
your viewing pleasure, according to Waddell’s found footage gimmick.
In a
way, MKHEXE represents an unusually effective found footage film, but
not because it is scary. Frankly, this is a profoundly sad film that illustrates
the destructive power of the obsessive conspiratorial mindset. It also
viscerally shows how tragedy and trauma can poison a family. Waddell presents a
highly distinctive vision, but it is not an enjoyable viewing experience. It
might just drive you to drink.
Nevertheless,
Jennifer Lynn O’Hara and Dwayne Tarver are absolutely devastating as the
brothers’ long-suffering parents. They are so believable and realistically
down-to-earth, it is painful to watch them. Ignacyo Matynia and Will Jandro
have plenty of good freak-outs as the brothers, but they do not connect
emotionally the way their on-screen parents do.
Ironically,
Pink Floyd never thought much of this film in any of its various cuts (this is
the longest one yet, at 92 minutes). However, it sustained their fans for
years, often screening at a time their live shows were relatively limited,
especially internationally. While it lacked the extravagant lights and
spectacle their live shows became famous for, the surreal setting of the
ancient Pompei amphitheater perfectly suits the band’s aesthetic. Likewise, the
band looks extremely Floydish strolling through Pompeii’s geothermal steam, as
they explore the ancient site.
The
Wall came ten
years later, so this film is free of its grimness. In some ways, Nick Mason emerges
as the star at Pompeii. His deeply resonant drums sound primal and even otherworldly.
The opening and closing “Echoes Part 1” and “Part 2” have a vibe reminiscent of
the Grateful Dead’s spacey extended jams.
Floyd sounds
very Floyd on “Careful with that Axe, Eugene,” “A Saucerful of Secrets,” and “One
of These Days,” but they still have an extra trippiness that seems inspired by
the location. Maben augmented the later cuts with footage shot in the storied
Abbey Road studio, where the band had recently finished their defining Dark
Side album. However, for the benefit of the cameras, the band pretends to
return for some last-minute touches.
Weirdly,
some of Maben’s candid footage became the stuff of band lore, like Mason asking
for apple pie “without the crust.” Perhaps the funniest soundbite is their
denial Pink Floyd is a “drug” band. Okay fine, now tell that to every stoner
ever. On a more serious note, when the band discusses their groundbreaking use
of synthesizers, specifically the notion they consciously decide how to use the
instruments as a tool rather than letting the technology control how they make
music, it eerily parallels similar debates regarding AI today.
You
know BJ must be a noir kind of guy, since he is a blues singing detective.
Frankly, he is more of a blues-rocker than blues singer. He is not much of a
detective either, but he keeps pursuing his best friend’s murderer even though
it clearly involves the local crime syndicate in Eiichi Kudo’s Yokohama BJ
Blues, which is now streaming on OVID.tv.
BJ had must
tread lightly investigating his latest case. Akira Kondo’s mother hired him to
find her missing son. Unfortunately, the boss of “The Family” “recruited” Kondo
to be his “companion,” whether the young man likes it or not. There is little
BJ can do, but at least he steals all the toilet paper from the boss’s bathroom
on his way out.
While
BJ avoids direct conflict with the Family, his friend, Det. Muku, made too many
compromises. Facing imminent arrest for corruption, Muku hopes to bust an
upcoming drug shipment to further bolster the plea deal he is already
negotiating. Unfortunately, he is shot while meeting BJ. Despite a lack of
forensic evidence, Muku’s thuggish partner Beniya tries to pin the murder on
BJ.
Reportedly,
star Yusaku Matsuda was inspired by trailers for Friedkin’s Cruising,
which is highly believable given the tone of the final film. In fact, it is a
miracle the cancel crowd has yet to attack Yokohama BJ Blues for being “problematic.”
However, real people will appreciate the way Kudo makes Yokohama’a seamy red-light
district look grimy and dangerous, as it surely was in 1981.
Matsuda,
who was then at the height of his popularity as the star TV detective series,
rather defiantly plays against type, turning BJ into a decidedly anti-heroic
and thoroughly degenerate gumshoe. Koji Tanaka adds a tragic dimension to the
film as the much-abused Kondo, who secretly befriends BJ.
They
were exiled from Iran, but part of them will probably always remain in the
notorious Evin and Ghezel Hesar prisons. Indeed, Mazyar Ebrahimi lives with the
chronic pain constantly reminding him of the torture he endured there. Ebrahimi
and two fellow survivors recreate the Iranian political prisoner experience for
filmmaker Mehran Tamadon in Where God is not, which is now streaming on
OVID.tv.
Ebrahimi
had a video supply company, who was unjustly denounced, mostly likely by a business
rival. When the torturers finished with him, he had confessed to the
assassinations of several nuclear scientists. Absurdly, most of the details
were wrong, because his “interrogators” force-fed him inaccurate information.
For Tamadon’s benefit, Ebrahimi recreates his Stalinist-style televised
confessions. He also transforms a bed in the abandoned Parisian factory serving
as Tamadon’s makeshift studio, into a replica of the torture gurney his
tormentors worked him over on. Yet, the re-enactment is too painful for
Ebrahimi, even though Tamadon takes his place as the victim. Finding himself in
his torturer’s position literally makes Ebrahimi sick to his stomach.
Although
Ebrahimi is probably the least known internationally of Tamadon’s participants,
his testimony is by far the most powerful. However, the filming process might
have been the most difficult Homa Kahlor. Her memoir exposed the systemic abuse
and grossly overcrowded conditions in Ghezel Hesar, but she clearly blames
herself for helplessly standing-by, as she witnesses horrible acts of cruelty,
while she served as an inmate-trustee.
Arguably,
Iranian journalist Taghi Rahmani is the most famous veteran of Iranian prisons
and Tamadon’s interview subject running the greatest risks, since his wife,
2023 Nobel Peace Prize recipient Narges Mohammadi, still remains behind bars. Dubbed
“Iran’s mostly frequently jailed journalist” by Reporters Without Borders, he
might also hold the record for incarceration within the film, with well over twelve
years. Nevertheless, Rahmani yearns to return, because Iran is his home.
There is a lot of claustrophobic tension in the Japanese reboot thriller, BULLET TRAIN EXPLOSION, but its level-headed, charismatic hero, argiably the "Sully Sullenberger" of train conductors, always keeps it on track. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
Most
people think weddings and births are good things, but spooky old Peig warns her
new Galic-speaking home-care nurse, as transitional junctures, they actually make
people more vulnerable to the “Sidhe,” Ireland’s malevolent fairy folk. She
should know, since she claims the Sidhe kidnapped her on her wedding day. Shoo (Subhan)
was warned her new charge had been diagnosed with delusional paranoia, but
obviously there must be something to Peig’s story, because director-screenwriter
Aislinn Clarke’s Frewaka premieres today on Shudder.
Shoo’s
abusive mother just passed away, but she still hopes to marry her Ukrainian
girlfriend Mila, once they have the money. That is two red flags for the Sidhe.
Just being around Peig constitutes the third, since the old lady considers
herself under a constant state of supernatural siege. She lasted this long thanks
to all folk charms protecting her house, which Shoo initially dismisses as mere
clutter.
Things
get weird quickly. However, a bond starts to grow between Shoo and Peig, as a
result. It seems to be them against the fairy and human worlds, because the
locals give off serious Wicker Man vibes.
Admittedly,
Frewaka is not as straight-up scary as Clarke The Devil’s Doorway,
but the unsettling atmosphere of paranoia and ancient corruption definitely
gets under viewers’ skin, Even though her prior film was set in a Magdalene
convent, Frewaka more vehemently expresses Clarke’s sense of Ireland’s historical
inequalities. Yet, the Church is almost entirely absent here. Instead, it is paganism
all the way through.
Ed
Deerman was the kind of tough campus security guard a lot of universities need
these days. Unfortunately, his involuntary retirement has been tough on Deerman.
Everything about life is tough for his neighbor, Simon McNally. Yet, when the
mentally-agitated man witnesses an abduction, he tries to do the right thing,
but only the skeptical Deerman listens, albeit reluctantly, in Duncan Skiles’ Neighborhood
Watch, which opens today in New York.
McNally
was de-institutionalized, but he remains tormented by hallucinations of his
abusive father. In moments of elevated stress, his speech turns into a Tourette’s-like
“word salad.” As a witness, he lacks credibility with the cops. Out of
desperation, he turns to the unwelcoming Deerman.
Of
course, Deerman is dismissive, but he is also bored and resentful of lazy cops.
Deerman soon starts to suspect there might be something to McNally’s kidnapping
story, especially when someone tries to kill them. However, coaching McNally
through their amateur investigation is tricky business.
Together,
they hit the economically depressed, formerly blue collar streets of Birmingham,
Alabama, giving the film a distinctive texture and sense of place. Skiles very definitely
opts for grit over flash. While the suspense never reaches white knuckle
levels, Skiles and the cast keep viewers emotionally invested, from start to
finish.
Frankly,
this might be the best performance of Jack Quaid’s career. As McNally, he
covers a lot of twitchy, neurotic ground, but his tic-iness is scrupulously
realistic, rather than showy. Likewise, Jeffrey Dean Morgan is perfectly cast
as Deerman. He makes his grouchiness weirdly sad and even poignant. They never
act like “odd couple” buddies, which gives the film a great deal of
credibility. Plus, Malin Akerman really helps ground the film as McNally’s
long-suffering sister, DeeDee.
In the
game, Josh Washington lost two twin sisters. Clover only lost one, but Melanie’s
disappearance really launched her on a downward spiral. As the film opens,
Clover and her friends are on the last leg of a road-trip retracing Melanie’s
last known whereabouts. It has been a super-fun trip for everyone, especially
for Abel, her bestie Nina’s new boyfriend. No closure appears imminent, despite
the rituals conducted by her supposedly physic friend Megan. However, just as
they prepare to pack it all in, the strange guy at the gas station suggests
they check out Glore Valley, the place where all the missing people seem to
vanish.
Off
they go, right into a time-loop, which sounds like a major departure from the
game. Regardless, it is a surprisingly sinister macguffin. If they live past
the crack of dawn, they break the cycle. However, this is not Groundhog Day.
Each night, they are killed in a different manner, by a new bogeyman, so it is
impossible anticipate the danger or correct past mistakes. Somehow, the evil
force tormenting them is connected to the freak 1952 catastrophe that destroyed
the mining town that suddenly appears around them. Presumably, the mystery man,
Dr. Hill, is also involved, since he clearly comes and goes as he pleases.
Sandberg’s
film could be highly divisive among fans of the game, since it tells a
radically different story. However, open-minded horror fans should appreciate
its original take on time-loop terror. The screenplay co-written by Gary
Dauberman (who also directed the recent Salem’s Lot remake) and Blair
Butler is surprisingly clever. They torment the heck out of those dumb kids, while
keeping the audience guessing. There is also some nifty design work, particularly
in the eerie “visitors’ center,” where each nightly nightmare begins.
Sergei
Rachmaninoff reinvented himself more profoundly than Madonna ever has. Shortly
after the Bolshevik revolution, the Rachmaninoff family was exiled with the
only the contents of their luggage to their name (but it was a good name). Due
to the economics of music publishing at the time, Rachmaninoff could not viably
support his family as composer in America, so he launched a second career as a
concert pianist, from basically nothing. Of course, he still had his reputation—and
his freedom. Violinist Scott Yoo and his guests celebrate Rachmaninoff’s second
life in America (and his summers on Lake Lucerne) in Rachmaninoff Reborn,
the latest episode of the Great Performances sub-series, Now Hear
This, which airs this Friday on PBS.
While
they do not belabor the horrors of Communism, Yoo and company clearly assert a
Romantic composer like Rachmaninoff could never meaningfully create under the rigid
Socialist Realist aesthetics mandated by the new regime. He was lucky to get
out while the getting was good. Indeed, Russian-born, British-naturalized
pianist draws painful parallels between Rachmaninoff’s expatriation and the experiences
of contemporary Russian artists forced into exile under Putin.
At the
age of 44, Rachmaninoff essentially launched his concert career, quickly
becoming one of the world’s most popular performers. Yoo and his experts argue
Rachmaninoff succeeded because he had the talent. He was also one of the
earliest musicians with the recorded legacy to prove it, including early 78s
and a vintage player-piano roll, which are presented during special listening
sessions.
As
Ukrainian-American photographer explains, Rachmaninoff was also an early
adopter of technology, so he left a wealth of photographs documenting his family
during casual moments. Frankly, it is remarkable how well documented his life
was, entirely because the traditional old Russian aristocrat was so receptive
to the fruits of modernism, even including psychoanalysis.
Lee
Kang-su is a broker who is about to go bust. He is not a M&A guy. He acts
as a go-between negotiating cooperative agreements for criminals who agree to
snitch. It turns out snitching is dangerous business, especially when you work
with a ruthless opportunist like prosecutor Ku Gwan-hee. Conveniently, Ku has made
other enemies who might help Lee take him down in Hwang Byeong-gug’s Yadang:
The Snitch, which opens Friday in New York.
Initially,
Lee was drugged by his passenger and left literally holding the bag (full of
drugs). Ku could tell he was not a kingpin, so he recruited him to inform on
the drug-trafficking gang operating out of his prison. It worked out so well,
Ku convinces him to become a professional Yadang after his release. Lee is not
a lawyer, but he can broker dodgy deals that might present ethical challenges
for a halfway reputable attorney.
Of
course, he always structures the deal so that Ku comes out on top. In the process,
Ku regularly scoops up cases from honest Det. Oh Sang-jae (a.k.a. “The Jade
Emperor”). That rarely serves the interests of justice, but it is great for Ku’s
interests. When Jo Hun, the leading presidential candidate’s son is arrested
during a major drug bust, Ku cuts lucrative deal to protect him, but he
sacrifices Lee and Oh in the process. Unfortunately, that means Det. Oh cannot
intercede on behalf of his source, Uhm Su-jin, a formerly rising starlet
terrorized by Jo Hun.
During
the subsequent months, Lee recovers from the serious injuries and meth dosing
inflicted on him by Yeom, the drug lord they were supposed to bust. Oh defends
himself in court against specious corruption charges, while Uhm’s career
implodes. Consequently, they all want revenge against Ku, Yeom, and Jo Hun.
Evidently,
Yadangs are a real thing in South Korea—a really sleazy thing. You could call The
Wolf of Wall Street for Yadang “cooperation” brokers. It is also a cynical
but consistently grabby payback thriller, thanks to the three co-lead
performances. Kang Ha-neul is intriguingly slippery as Lee. It is a darkly
complex portrayal that emphasizes his compromised nature, despite his innocent
beginnings. Yoo Hae-jin (who often provides the schticky comic relief) gives
one of his career-best performances as the calculating prosecutor. Park
Hae-joon is also rock-solid as the driven Det. Oh.
Today,
jazz musicians are expected to be intellectuals. In the 1940s, a clarinet
player who read books, like Artie Shaw, was considered a novelty. That shift in
attitude happened in the 1980s, when this film—released—and won the Oscar for
best documentary. It was rarely seen since, due the filmmaker’s legal battles
with her subject. Yes, Shaw could be difficult, as viewers learn during
Brigitte Berman’s Artie Shaw: Time is All You’ve Got, which has been
fully restored before its VOD release this Friday.
Shaw
was one of the more popular big band leaders of the 1940s, but he swung much
harder than Glenn Miller or the Dorsey Brothers. Arguably, he was on par with Benny
Goodman, so naturally the press developed a largely non-existent rivalry
between them. According to Shaw, Goodman bought into that hype much more than
he did. Regardless, many real fans preferred Shaw, like Mel Torme, one Berman’s
impressive on-camera commentators, who duly explains his preference. (As a side
note, both musicians published fiction. Torme released the novel Wynner and
Shaw published a collection of short stories, The Best of Intentions.)
Shaw
also gets credit for hiring black musicians when that was still a risky thing
to do. Trumpeter Hot Lips Page was the first, but the most notable was vocalist
Billie Holiday. Shaw also voluntarily enlisted shortly after Pearl Harbor,
leading a morale-boosting band for the Navy, much like Miller did for the Army
Air Force. However, during his service Shaw suffered what sounds like the first
of several nervous breakdowns.
Bergman
and Shaw do a nice, thorough job covering his music and career, including his
surprise breakout hit “Begin the Beguine,” and his ironic theme song, “Nightmare,”
which radically contrasted with typically flag-waving numbers used as big band intros
and sign-offs. Bergman scored several notable interview subjects, including
Torme, former Shaw vocalist Helen Forrest, and Buddy Rich, who was one of the biggest-drawing
jazz performers at the time. She also talked to former Shaw sidemen Lee Castle
and John Best, who never attained fame themselves, but witnessed a lot of musical
history.
Simon
Schama became one of the unlikeliest bestsellers of 1989, when Citizens,
his nearly thousand-page history of the French Revolution hit the NY Times list.
He subsequently became one of the leading chroniclers of the Jewish people. However,
he always tried to avoid presenting their history as a “march” towards the
Holocaust. Nevertheless, at some point, the enormity of it becomes inescapable.
The eighty-year-old historian explains the tragic history of the Holocaust, from
the places where it happened in Simon Schama: The Holocaust, 80 Years On,
directed by Hugo Macgregor, which airs this Tuesday on PBS.
Schama
begins with some grim statistics that explain why this program is so needed: “nearly
a quarter of young Americans believe the holocaust did not happen, or has been exaggerated,”
that would be the student “activists” turning campuses into cauldrons of hate,
and “one in twenty Britons think the Holocaust never happened.”
As you
can see from the art provided, Schama eventually takes viewers to
Auschwitz-Birkenau, but he starts in Kaunas, Lithuania, which he identifies as the
first major city occupied by the Germans, where the locals voluntarily and
enthusiastically massacred their fellow Jewish citizens, under the watchful,
approving eyes of the National Socialists. The killing was not as systematized
and industrialized as it was in concentration camps, but it would be impossible
for the local populace to deny their culpability.
Yes,
dreadfully, pogroms were not uncommon throughout Eastern Europe during the
decades and even centuries preceding WWII. That is why Schama emphasizes the
case of the Netherlands, which was considered a haven of tolerance, much like
Britain across the North Sea. Yet, despite initial acts of solidarity, Dutch Jewry
suffered the highest mortality rate of any Western European nation during the
Holocaust—a grim 75%.
The
example of the Netherlands seems particularly applicable to our current times.
Nobody thought something like that could happen there, but it did. Do you
really think it couldn’t happen here, when the Jewish Governor of Pennsylvania
and his family are targeted in an explicit act of political terror, with
practically no media outrage once the motives were uncovered?
Vicky
Du ‘s family never really talked about their feelings. It wasn’t frosty Scandinavian
reserve. It was due to deep family trauma. Sadly, that untreated trauma metastasized
into more trauma. Du finally helps them unravel their painful issues in her
debut documentary feature, Light of the Setting Sun, which is now
playing in New York.
The Du
family immigrated from Taiwan, but they trace their heritage back to Mainland
China. Unfortunately, they retreated to Taiwan to avoid the victorious Communists’
brutal reprisals. However, they still kept in touch with various cousins and
uncles who remained, at least until the Cultural Revolution. Eventually, Du’s
parents learned the fate of their relatives, but they never discussed it with
Du and her siblings.
Frankly,
they also did their best to ignore problems within the nuclear family, at last
until her bother Andrew dropped a bomb one day, announcing he just finished treatment
for a mental breakdown. Ironically, that was a bit of a conversation starter,
launching the family into therapy. However, their parents still resisted talking
about their extended family, until Du eventually found a letter from one of the
few survivors, cataloguing their painful fates.
Years
ago, several workers burned to death when fire engulfed one of the warehouses. Somehow,
they saved the warehouse, but not the people. Since then, most workers shun the
building, especially at night. It’s not like they have a choice. The mill
maintains a strict 9:00 curfew. Not even porch-sitting is allowed once the
night whistle blows.
Unfortunately, Endah did not understand the
importance of curfew on her first night. Ill-fatedly, she follows her new housemate
Rani, who appears to be under some outside influence, to the infamous
warehouse, where the spirits are conducting a sinister ceremony.
Endah
came with a group of college-aged friends, but the provincial twentysomethings
are sadly not going to college. Harvesting and milling sugarcane seemed like a
decent opportunity to them. It should help pay for Hendra’s wedding to the
extremely modest and devout Wati. In contrast, Naning is definitely on the hunt
for an eligible man. Sadly, that does not include the schlubby, torch-carrying
Franky, which his awkward sidekick Dwi often needles him about.
Honestly,
the core group could have been better defined and distinguished. They are
basically the good Muslim girl, the slutty one, the potential final girl, and
three dudes. However, the atmosphere is extremely dark and awfully thick. This place
feels profoundly evil and only too real.
Suryadi
is not above springing jump scares, but he also uses the full frame, to
sugestively show things lurking in corners and reflected in mirrors. This is the
kind of eerie stuff Indonesian horror films really do well.
You
have to give the USPS dead letter office workers credit. They found a way to deliver
all those letters to Santa at the end of Miracle on 34th Street.
This case will be a lot less fun for them. It would be easier to assume the
blood-smeared note begging for help is a hoax, but postal sleuth Jasper
Lawrence just can’t let it go in Joe DeBoer & Kyle McConaghy’s Dead Mail,
which premieres tomorrow on Shudder.
Lawrence
is revered by his co-workers, Ann Lankford and Bess Greer, for his ability to
find the intended recipients of valuable lost mail. However, he has a secret
resource, Swedish intelligence analyst Renee Ogaard, who can perform the sort
of database searches we take for granted today, with 1980s technology. Part of
Lawrence’s mystique is his sad backstory. Having fallen on hard times, he still
lives in a low-income housing facility that is essentially one-step up from a homeless
shelter.
Maybe
that is why he refuses to abandon the captive who wrote the note.
Providentially, the chain tethering Joshua Ivey was just long enough to reach
the mailbox in front Trent Whittington’s house. Unfortunately, the only legible
tracking information is the rural route, which leaves a number of suspects. Rather
ominously, Whittington also knows Ivey’s note is out there, somewhere in the
system, because the mail was picked up before he could figure how to best pry
open the box.
Essentially,
the third act is a long flashback, explaining Whittington’s history with Ivey
and how things reached this horrific stage. This is a bit of a mistake, because
it unbalances the film, taking too much time away from the postal setting and
characters, who are immediately compelling. Of course, that also means the
first and third acts work very well indeed.
The
gritty, grainy, retro 1980s direct-to-video look of Dead Mail is also lethally
effective. It captures the look and texture of its milieu without ever
indulging in kitsch, irony, or tongue-in-cheek snark. Arguably, there are times
the film feels a little too real.
In the Hatsune
Miku: Colorful Stage “rhythm game,” virtual singers are sort of like the
literary characters who come alive in Twilight Zone episodes, except it
is a relatively common phenomenon. Supposedly, if real-life singers perform
with enough emotion, they can bring their virtual collaborators to life and
even join them in “Sekai,” special dedicated rooms in the dimension between the
IRL and virtual worlds. Weirdly, several bands and their virtual “Mikus”
encounter a mysterious new Miku who cannot connect musically in Hiroyuki Hata’s
anime feature, Colorful Stage! The Movie: A Miku Who Can’t Sing,
produced by animation house P.A. House and released by GKIDS, which starts a
limited 4-day theatrical release today.
Move
over Minecraft, because Hata and screenwriter Yoko Yonaiyama managed to
adapt a game not unlike Guitar Hero or old-fashioned karaoke. However,
there was a large cast of pre-existing characters whom Yonaiyama assumed the
audience would already know. There is a bit of catching up to do, but astute
viewers will hopefully pick things up as they go.
Several
bands have connected with the own virtual collaborators in their specific Sekai.
For Ichika Hoshino that would be Hatsume Miku, who is about the purest
incarnation of a j-pop idol as you could envision. One day, she also encounters
a new Miku, who looks somewhat similar, but is much less self-assured. She
seems to travel through digital screens, producing static and distortions. Ironically,
the frustration caused by her service disruptions makes new Miku’s challenge to
connect on an emotional level even more difficult.
Nevertheless,
the four bands she reaches out to do their best to help, but they cannot
coordinate their efforts, because the alternate Miku communicates with them on
different wavelengths, or something like that. They feel for her and the
creators she is supposed to be attuned with. Unfortunately, the real-life
people hardwired to her Sekai cannot reach it, because they are all mired in
states of creative and emotional crisis. In fact, their aggregated depression
could drag the new Miku down as well.
It
bears repeating, the rules of the Colorful Stage world are a tad
confusing for newcomers, but that is the general idea. Regardless, it is pretty
impressive how Hata and Yonaiyama built a full feature length narrative out of
a smart-phone game that previously spawned a dozen or so ultra-mini anime
webisodes.
While
there are some thematic similarities with Mamoru Hosoda’s Belle, Colorful
Stage! The Movie serves up some interesting world-building. In fact, it
would nicely fit with Belle, Summer Wars, The Matrix, Tron, and
World on a Wire in film series exploring the porous border between the physical
and digital worlds.
Holmes fans should be delighted wiith the apt casting of David Thewlis as the great consulting detective and Dougray Scott as sly Moriarty. The titular father-daughter mentor-protege relationship is also better than you might expect in CW''s SHERLOCK & DAUGHTER, given Holmes' charactristic prickliness. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
Poor
Superintendent Battle. He is always overlooked, even though he is probably
Agatha Christie’s fourth most prolific crime-solver (after Poirot, Miss Marple,
and Tommy & Tuppence). To compound the insult, ITV previously adapted Towards
Zero and The Secret Chimneys as Miss Marple mysteries, leaving him
out. It sort of happens again with this adaptation of the latter. Instead of
the Superintendent and his nephew Inspector Leach working together, it is just
Leach, who carries much more baggage this time around. However, grouchy Lady
Tressilian is still a handful and she once again meets an untimely demise in
the three-episode adaptation of Towards Zero, which premieres today on
BritBox.
As the
matriarch of her extended family, Lady Tressilian is a bit disappointed by her
nephew Neville Strange’s divorce, but she still agrees to host him and his “homewrecker”
new wife, Kay Elliott-Strange during their homecoming. At the same time, she
also extends her hospitality to the newly divorced Mrs. Strange #1, Audrey, who
lived in the seaside Saltcreek estate as a child, after her parents’ accidental
deaths. Frankly, Lady Tressilian finds their mutual convergence stranger than
the various Stranges seem to.
Inevitably,
things get super-awkward when Neville openly flirts and charms his ex. Yet, he
is much annoyed by the sudden appearance of his cousin, Thomas Royde, who continues
to accuse of Strange of deliberately causing the death of their childhood
playmate. Despite falling out of favor with Lady Tressilian, he has come hat-in-hand
to beg for money. Through letters, he lobbied her paid companion, Mary Aldin,
to his cause, while implying a romantic interest. However, he still carries a
torch for Audrey Strange.
Obviously,
there was a lot of tension in Saltcreek, even before Lady Tressilian called Mr.
Treves, the family solicitor and sweeper-of-things-under-the-rug, to revise her
will. Soon thereafter, she meets a violent, premature end. Inspector Leach will
investigate, but only because his suicide attempt fails. Somehow, the powerful
rip-currents spit him back onto land, rather than dashing him against the
rocks. The WWI veteran remains tormented by PTSD and survivor’s guilt, but his
suspects’ entitled smugness quickly sharpens his edge.
Compared
to some recent Christie adaptations (especially Ordeal by Innocence),
this Zero is relatively faithful, but Pascal Thomas’s French adaptation
is still superior—and it allowed good old Battle to be good old Bataille. Nevertheless,
it is nice to see a veteran play a major role in a series that is not
inherently military-themed—even if he is a veteran of the First World War.
Regardless,
screenwriter Rachel Bennette fully embraces Christie’s central theme, exploring
the precipitating issues that give rise to the murder, just as much as the
investigation. This production is well served by Clarke Peters’ stately voice
explaining “point zero” as the moment “the murder is seated.” Considering
Neville Strange is a professional tennis player, he might have called it “point
love,” but that might have confused the less sporting. Bennette still capitalizes
on the tennis connection, gathering all Leach’s suspects around the Saltcreek
court, instead of the drawing room.
This is
also a consistently strong cast, starting with Peters, who perfectly personifies
Mr. Treves’ dignified craftiness. Though not Battle, Matthew Rhys is deeply
compelling as the haunted but still incisive Insp. Leach—essentially, he is
like a tragic Interwar Columbo.
Bai An
is clearly making decisions on an emotional basis. He set out to kill the
Chinese businessman he blames for the death of his wife and daughter, but made
the impromptu decision to protect his nemesis’s daughter from a rival drug
gang. Despite the well-heeled He Yinghao’s concern, little Ting is probably
safer with the vengeful vigilante than his own compromised organization in Siyu
Cheng’s Striking Rescue, which releases today on VOD.
An's
wife was a whistle-blower in He’s company. Assassins managed to destroy her and
her flash drive, but they left alive a very angry Muay Thai fighter. The Thai
cops assume An is responsible for the carnage, but they are too incompetent to
be a factor in this film. Instead, An started following the chain back to He.
Yet, when he sees a small army employed by Clay, a particularly vicious drug lord,
threatening Ting, he swopes into protect her.
That
puts An in an awkward position. He’s driver-security director Wu Zheng wants to
work together to protect Ting. Wu also denies any involvement in the murder of
An’s family. The vengeance-seeker is not buying it, but at this point, he
really isn’t thinking straight, due to his considerable blood loss.
Somehow,
Guo Haiwen’s screenplay manages to be both simplistic and confusing, but it
does not matter. Striking Rescue was clearly conceived as a showcase for
Tony Jaa’s butt-kicking—and on that level it succeeds smashingly. This is the
best star-vehicle Jaa has had in several years, so he makes the most of it.
James
Brown famously exclaimed: “give the drummer some,” so hopefully you listened.
After all, his greatest hits would not have hit as hard without drummer Clyde
Stubblefield. Weirdly, Stubblefield is one of the few drummers not discussed at
length in this documentary, but there is no quibbling with the with the great
musicians analyzed and fondly remembered in Mark Lo’s Count Me In, which
releases today on VOD.
The
headbangers you might have known in high school would be shocked to hear Iron
Maiden’s Nicko McBrain was originally inspired by Joe Morello of the Dave
Brubeck Quartet—but he was. Similarly, Stephen Perkins of Jane’s Addiction recalls
how blown away he was as a child watching Gene Krupa drive the Benny Goodman
big band. In fact, all the assembled percussionists admit it all really started
with jazz drummers like Max Roach, Elvin Jones, Buddy Rich, and Art Blakey.
Cindy
Blackman Santana would know better than anyone. She plays both rock and jazz,
with the likes of Wallce Roney and Carlos Santana (whom she also married). The
various drummers also clearly explain how those jazz greats helped shape their
own classic rock idols like Charlie Watts of the Rolling Stones and Ginger
Baker of Cream (who is described as “a jazz musician in a rock musician’s body”).
It is
cool to hear jazz get its due credit, but the rock titans are not neglected either.
Somewhat surprisingly, Ringo Starr is presented on par with Watts, Baker, Keith
Moon of the Who, and Led Zeppelin’s John Bonham, but, again, there is no
arguing with the rest of the field.
Apple TV+'s YOUR FRIENDS & NEIGHBORS taps into a generational zeitgeist, as Jon Hamm endures some darkly comic family drama and the one-darned-thing-after-another criminal chaos of his own making. CINEMA DAILY US review up here.
Art
Spiegelman helped force the world to remember some of its darkest history, with
his Pulitzer-Prize-winning graphic novel, Maus. Essentially, he adapted
his parents’ tragic real-life experiences during the Holocaust, but he anthropomorphized
the Jews as mice and the National Socialists as cats. Yet, this film has a
weirdly selective relationship with recent history. It ends before the October
7th terror attacks that are widely recognized as the largest mass-killing
of Jews since the Holocaust. However, the filmmakers managed to find time to
edit out Neil Gaiman’s appearance, which caused some consternation when the
film screened at festivals, presumably due to assault allegations against the
English author. Regardless, there is an inescapable feeling of prematureness to
Molly Bernstein & Philip Dolin’s Art Spiegelman: Disaster is My Muse,
which airs tomorrow on PBS, as part of the current season of American
Masters.
The
first forty-five minutes or so of Disaster is quite strong, because it really
focuses on the past, without attempting to score political points in the
present. Spiegelman retraces his career, starting with an internship at Topps
collector cards that led to a long-standing freelance relationship. He became
one of the stars of the underground comix movement, along with his late friend,
R. Crumb, whom we see attending a dinner party at Spiegelman’s.
For
over a decade, Spiegelman worked on the two-volume Maus, continually
interviewing and re-interviewing his father, since his mother had died under
painful circumstances during his childhood. Spiegelman is the first to admit he
was shocked by the reception, including best-seller lists and the Pulitzer
Prize. Arguably, the timing was just right since publication of the two volumes
in 1986 and 1991, releasing between Claude Lanzmann’s Shoah (1985) and
Spielberg’s Schindler’s List (1993), a period when mainstream readers
really started educating themselves on the full implications of the Shoah.
The
second half of Disaster largely focuses on Spiegelman coming to terms
with his unexpected success and figuring out what to do next. Arguably, his
lack of focus was detrimental to Bernstein & Dolin’s profile as well.
Eventually, they present him as an impassioned warrior against censorship, but
such terms are somewhat disingenuous. There are no laws against reading any
books in Texas or Florida (the two states primarily mentioned). Certain school boards
have, ill-advisedly, decided certain titles are not appropriate for young readers.
The fact that Maus was one such title is foolish irony that discredits their
entire judgement—yet, the fact remains school boards make these kind of
decisions everyday, in one direction or another, because space and acquisition
budgets are limited.
This
dinner party will be like Mr. And Mrs. Smith, hosting John le Carre’s Tinker, Tailor,
Soldier, and Spy. Unfortunately for George Woodhouse (the Mr. Smith), his wife
Kathryn St. Jean is also under suspicion. Yes, he knows she has been keeping
secrets, but so has he. That comes with the territory for two married spies. Regardless,
Woodhouse must find the security leak in Stephen Soderbergh’s Black Bag,
which is now available on VOD (and still in theaters).
Woodhouse’s
dinner parties can be awkward, but when you are invited, you must attend.
Tonight’s guest list was made up by Meacham, his superior, who has deduced the
code for an extremely destructive weaponized virus has been compromised. There
are only five suspects, including his wife.
Freddie
Smalls, is a senior MI6 agent, who was considered Woodhouse’s protégé, until he
passed him over for a promotion. Col. James Stokes, is the fast-tracked hotshot
agent, whom Smalls lost out to. Clarissa Dubose, the satellite imagery
technician, has been conducting a not-so-secret relationship with Smalls. Dr.
Zoe Vaughan serves as MI6’s staff psychiatrist, who counsels all five suspects,
including St. Jean, rather they like it or not (and she clearly does not). She also
recently terminated her romantic relationship with Stokes.
It will
be a super fun dinner party, because several guests reveal very embarrassing secrets.
However, it is not immediately evident who transfered the so-called Severus
Virus to a dangerous foreign element. It is not an ideal time for St. Jean to
leave. She cannot explain either, simply invoking the term “black bag,” which
agents use as shorthand for “I can’t tell you, because its top secret business.”
David
Koepp’s original screenplay rather cleverly devises ways to bring the loyalties
of the various couples into conflict with their professional and national allegiances.
Eventually, the big picture also involves Russia, but not in the way Putin-hawks
might expect or hope. However, one character’s Roman Catholic faith will play
an edifying role, in the complicated intrigue.
In
fact, Koepp’s machinations are just complicated enough to maintain suspense and
uncertainty, but everything is sufficiently illuminated so that the ending
makes sense and provides closure. Black Bag is intelligent, but not too
smart for its own good. It also wraps everything up, more or less, in about
ninety minutes, which represents remarkably skillful and economically
story-telling in this age of narrative bloat.
Arguably,
Black Bag earns the further distinction as Soderbergh’s most stylish
film since Out of Sight. The vibe is slick, but sophisticated. David
Holmes’ score (featuring Brian Irvine on keyboards) appropriately noirish, but
also jazzy and snappy, in a complimentary way. It really adds a lot to the film’s
identity.
Plus, Michael
Fassbender’s wardrobe was clearly inspired by 1960s Michael Caine films, which
is cool. You can tell Fassbender totally fed off that vibe. His performance is
quietly reserved and cerebral, but absolutely magnetic.
The
four suspect-guests are also terrific, in very different ways. Tom Burke (who
more viewers ought to know from The Lazarus Project) puts on a show on
his own as the shlubby, self-destructive Smalls. Naomie Harris does some great
verbal sparring as Dr. Vaughan, the shrink nobody wants to confide in. Marisa
Abela is a destabilizing force as Dubose, while Rege-Jean Page matches
Fassbender’s ability to project calculating intelligence.
G20 does a nice job portraying First Family relations and its military veteran characters. However, its action sequences are unremarkable and it is clueless about economics and geopolitics. EPOCH TIMES review up here.
In
retrospect, schools were clearly closed for far too long during the Covid era.
Kids need school for both education and socialization. That is why Ukraine has
labored and sacrificed to keep schools open during Putin’s war. Education
continues, but the impact of the war is inescapable in Kateryna Gornostai’s
documentary, Timestamp (dedicated to her fallen brother), which screens
during this year’s New Directors/New Films.
As one
graduation speaker observes, this year’s graduating class lived out their
student years almost entirely during wartime conditions, if we count the 2014 Donbas
invasion. Obviously, things got even worse in 2022. Yet, Gornostai documents
several graduations, only one of which was sadly virtual, because the school’s home
city had been completely razed to the ground by Putin’s military.
Somehow,
in-person schooling continues, but the experience is much different from what
American viewers might remember. Elementary school children now receive regular
instruction on how to identify and report booby-trapped toys left on the streets
to maim them. Older secondary students learn how to tie-off torniquets, which
involve the titular “timestamp.” Even the coursework for advanced architecture
and engineering students has adapted to the times, because all new structures now
incorporate some kind of bomb shelter.
Not
surprisingly, instruction is often interrupted by air raid sirens. Even the
national standardized test for university admissions now makes allowances for
wartime disruptions. Altogether, it is a sad, bitterly cruel state of affairs.
Admittedly, some younger children appear somewhat traumatized, but Ukrainian
students in general exhibit an inspiring resiliency.
Admittedly,
this demonic horror movie knows its John Milton. The filmmakers are also
probably familiar with the so-called “New Atheists.” While most possession
horror films try to scare viewers back to the Church, this one tries to do something
very different. It still has sympathy for the Church and its exorcists, but not
necessarily its beliefs, even though many celestial and demonic elements sure
seem to be born out in Michael Peterson’s Shadow of God, which premieres
today on Shudder.
Father
Mason Harper dispatches yet another demon in the prologue, but his exorcism
comes at a great cost. His companion priest was killed by the unclean entity—one
of six exorcising priests murdered that night. Something is afoot, but Harper
must return to his provincial Canadian hometown for family business. Unfortunately,
home has never been a restful place for him.
As a
boy, Harper barely survived his father’s doomsday cult, thanks in part to the
intercession of his platonic (by his choice, not hers) friend, Tanis Green. He
took refuge in the Church, letting his own experience with evil fuel his
battles against demons. Harper saw his father Shaun die when Green and the
Sheriff saved him from the “purification” ritual. Therefore, he is quite
shocked to see the old man up and walking around. Given his line of work,
Father Harper logically concludes an exorcism is in order, but the old man insists
that will only make matters worse.
Initially,
Peterson’s slow-build is highly unnerving and very effective. Mark O’Brien and
Jacqueline Byers have terrific rapport, as the Father and Green, bringing to
life a complex and largely original relationship. They are forced to talk about
things like Fathe Harper’s faith in a refreshingly direct and honest way.
Peterson also evokes a powerful atmosphere suggesting something profoundly
wrong threatens both characters.
However,
once we get an inkling of what it might be, the film completely derails.
Presumably, screenwriter Tim Cairo wants to make a statement about all the wickedness
done in the name of Christianity, or perhaps decry a Heavenly Father who
supposedly allows such evil to plague his earthly cration. Regardless, there is
also a pronounced post-structuralist, militantly materialist impulse to literally
demonize, and perhaps even kill the G*d that Father Harper so faithfully
worships.
Violet’s
late husband was scary abusive, so she now specializes in counseling fellow
survivors. Henry sounded remarkably understanding of her baggage-laden past and
her reluctance to return to the dating world, especially for a guy she met on
an app, so she finally agreed to a face-to-face dinner. He really pulled out
all the stops, booking a window table at Palette, an elegant high-rise
restaurant.
Unfortunately,
she is soon harassed by untraceable “drops” (much like iPhone “Air Drops”) from
an unknown weirdo. When she finally engages, the mystery texter gives her an
ultimatum: kill Henry or the hooded intruder in her home will murder Toby.
Unfortunately, her remote security cam feed backs up the threat.
First,
she sneakily destroys Henry’s sim card loaded with incriminating evidence. However,
the prospect of murdering Henry understandably horrifies her, especially since
he clearly appears to be a good guy, trying to do the right thing. She tries to
stall for time, but the texter obviously hacked Palette’s security cameras,
because he always stays one step ahead of her.
Drop
is vaguely like a
lot of other movies (like maybe Phone Booth or A Fall from Grace)
updated for our current era of digital text addiction. However, it still works
because of the chemistry shared by Meghann Fahy and Brandon Sklenar, as Violet
and Henry. Drop would crater if we cannot accept Henry’s decision to
stick with the date, despite her seemingly erratic and potentially wacky
behavior. Yet, we can just barely buy into his patience, because they do seem
so sympatico—but only just barely.
Still,
that is definitely something. In fact, it is just enough. As a bonus, Violett
Beane adds some refreshing humor as Violet’s sister and babysitter, Jen. The shadowy
villain is also entertainingly sinister, once he finally reveals himself—but,
no spoilers.
For millions
of families, reading A Christmas Carol is a holiday tradition. For
Charles Dickens’ family, it was reading The Life of Our Lord, which he
also wrote (obviously based on Biblical sources). However, the rest of the
world would not be able to read it until 1934, after the death of his four children.
It was a major literary event at the time, but the novella has sadly fallen out
of fashion. Yet, the story is timeless and Dickens remains perennially popular.
Animator Seong-ho Jang adapts Dickens’ adapted story and depicts its first
telling in The King of Kings, released by Angel Studios, which opens
this Friday in theaters.
If you
do not know the basic events of the life of Christ by now, either your Sunday School
teacher should be ashamed, or you are just a heathen. Dickens and Jang give us
all the highlights: the manger, the fish and loaves, the moneychangers, and
indeed the Last Supper (which is currently having its movie moment). However,
it is all seen through the eyes of Dickens, his son Walter, and their fat cat,
Willa.
Initially,
the naughty Walter disrupted his father’s staged reading of A Christmas
Carol with his King Arthur make-believe games. However, at the behest of
his eternally patient wife Catherine, Dickens tells him the story of a far
greater king, who eventually inspired the legend of King Arthur—even though he
was not really a king in the traditional sense.
Some of
the business with Walter and Willa gets a little too silly, but the episodes of
Jesus’s life are handled quite nicely. Jang and English-language co-writer Rob
Edwards (who co-wrote Disney’s Treasure Planet and The Princess and
the Frog) fully explore the drama of each memorable story, but always in a
respectful way. The film is undeniably reverent, but it never feels stilted or sermon-like.
Arguably, Jang’s film is more successful than its 1961 namesake at realizing
Biblical stories as big-screen entertainment.
Unfortunately,
the character design is a little clunky. Apparently, people had honking big
noses back during the days of antiquity. However, there are several visually
arresting sequences that appropriately invoke awe and “mystery,” as the term is
understood in a Biblical context. Indeed, these include every big crucial scene,
such as the crucifixion.
The
all-star voice cast is also quite a surprise, starting with Kenneth Branagh,
who probably covers the greatest range, from comedy as Dickens, the exasperated
father, to hushed devotion, as Dickens, the faithful Christian. Uma Thurman
also brings warmth to the somewhat slap-sticky prelude as kind-hearted
Catherine.
Without
question, the voice of Jesus represented a tricky bit of casting, but Oscar Isaac
turned out to be a wise choice. He definitely sounds like an “important voice,”
but he is not instantly recognizable. Likewise, Forest Whitaker has the right
modestly devout tone for Peter. Sir Ben Kingsley and Pierce Brosnan lend their
commanding vocal talents as High Priest Caiaphas and Pontius Pilate, respectively,
while prolific voice-over artist Fred Tatasciore (whose credits include The Day the Earth Blew Up and JLA Adventures: Trapped in Time) can be
heard as Pharisee Eleazar.
