Down Cemetery Road, on Apple TV+

Where are Inspector Morse and Inspector Lewis when we need them? A house blows up in Oxford but the local police barely bother to notice. Admittedly, the UK deep state (which can’t be bothered to prosecute Chinese spies) does everything possible to block their investigation. That leaves a neurotic art restoration technician and cynical private detective to crack the case in creator Morwenna Banks’ eight-episode Down Cemetery Road, based on Mick Herron’s novel, which is now streaming on Apple TV+.

Just down the street (presumably, it must be on Cemetery Road) a house blows up, just while Sarah Trafford’s conspicuously desperate husband Mark tries to butter-up a skeptical wealthy client. Despite several fatalities, young Dinah survived the inferno—and then she disappeared. Nobody seems to know anything, least fo all the police, so she hires Joe Silverman to track her down. Weirdly and tragically, he kills himself shortly thereafter. Of course, Trafford is skeptical, while Silverman’s partner and philandering wife Zoe Boehm is even more so.

Of course, they team-up as an odd couple, to battle the sinister assassin brothers contracted by Hamza, a nebbish intelligence officer tasked with covering up a disastrous chemical weapons program. It was a rather unsavory experiment that used enlisted British soldiers as guinea pigs. Downey was one of them. He also happens to be Dinah’s uncle and possibly Trafford’s other ally. If exposed, the top secretoperation could be a three-alarm scandal, but Hamza’s abusive boss “C” would still rather humiliate him then offer constructive leadership.

It is surprising that the wickedly smart Slow Horses series was also based on Herron’s novels, because Cemetery Road always takes the most obvious, least surprising fork in the road. Frankly, eight episodes of Boehm bickering with Trafford and C berating Hamza is punishingly excessive. At most, this story could have been better translated as a TV-movie, but even that would have been wholly unnecessary.

Instead, we have schtick all over the place, starting with Emma Thompson’s intermittently amusing Philip Marlowe act. Ruth Wilson’s chronic breakdowns grow increasingly tiresome, but she certainly dispels all memories of her femme fatal glory in Luther while portraying Trafford.

Sundance ’19: Late Night

Let’s face it, late night talk show hosts are much more entertaining when they are mired in rivalries and scandal (as in Letterman vs. Leno and Leno vs. Team Coco). After years of hosting her show on auto-pilot, Katherine Newbury is about to become interesting again—maybe too interesting. The show may not necessarily go on in Nisha Ganatra’s Late Night, which premiered at the 2019 Sundance Film Festival.

Apparently, Newbury’s show debuted in the early 1990s, which would make her the second woman to host a national late night talk show, after Joan Rivers, but screenwriter Mindy Kaling gives Newbury credit as the first. In recent years, Newbury has been content to lob softball questions to guests she admires, like Sen. Diane Feinstein. Big surprise, ratings are down.

Viewership has fallen to such a low level, the new network president is ready to replace Newbury with someone younger and more popular. However, Newbury might just put up a fight, but first she has her long-suffering producer hire a woman writer to defuse some negative press. Molly Patel is the only applicant who fits the bill, so the underdog chemical plant employee gets the gig. It will be highly debatable whether this constitutes good or bad luck for Patel, but at least she will spur her prickly boss to start addressing more political topics, because most Americans’ idea of fun is a political lecture from someone who think they are more virtuous than they are. Regardless, Newbury’s ratings rebound, until a personal scandal threatens to end her career.

A lot of the behind-the-scenes chaos in Late Night is amusing, but the film is little more than an extended episode of Murphy Brown. Emma Thompson scores some big laughs as the witheringly acerbic, borderline-abusive talk show host, but she never looks comfortable in her stand-up scenes. That might sound like a minor quibble, but it makes it difficult to believe her character could reach this position in the first place.

Probably, the sharpest, most consistently funny performance comes from Denis O’Hare as Newbury’s long-suffering producer. Kaling is relatively likable as Patel, at least when she is not giving us lectures on social issues. By far, her best scenes involve her evolving relationships with Newbury show staffers, including O’Hare, Max Casella, and Paul Walter Hauser. However, the best performance comes from John Lithgow, who is achingly dignified as Newbury’s ailing husband, an NYU professor emeritus.

There is really nothing in Late Night you haven’t seen before, but Amazon paid $13 million for it anyway. Perhaps they intend to turn it into a sitcom, which is really the level Kaling is pitching her material. Mostly harmless but sometimes insufferably smug, Late Night is wildly overrated. Just an okay time-killer, Late Night screens again tonight (2/3) in Salt Lake, as part of this year’s Sundance Film Festival.

King Lear: Modern and Quicker, on Prime Video

The pseudo-historical Leir of Celtic Britain actually regained his throne with the help of the French and his youngest daughter Cordelia, but that was no fun for Shakespeare. Everything about his Lear had to be tragic. That makes it a heck of a role to play. When Sir Anthony Hopkins played “Sir,” the actor preparing to portray King Lear in The Dresser a few years ago, it probably gave a lot of people ideas that he makes good on now. Hopkins stars in Richard Eyre’s modernized and somewhat abridged King Lear (trailer here), which premieres on Prime Video this Friday.

It is a slightly dystopian Britain, but the narrative is still Lear. You know, one king with three daughters. He tries to divide his kingdom among the triumvirate, but the youngest daughter, who loves him best, refuses to play that game. A cold war quickly develops between the two ambitious sisters, egged on by Edmund, the illegitimate son of the Earl of Gloucester. Right, that Lear.

For the most part, the stylized setting is rather effective. Eyre’s Lear often shares a kinship with Ralph Fiennes’ Coriolanus, in the way they depict modern warfare and a militaristic milieu. Plus, many scenes were shot in and around the imposing Dover Castle, which is quite a dramatic backdrop. However, the sequences of the mad Lear scuffling through an open-air shopping district feel like an ill-advised Beckett production.

Regardless, Hopkins is definitely a Lear to be reckoned with, encompassing all the bluster and tragedy that have made the character so iconic. Frankly, it is the Lear we would hope for and expect from him, but he also happens to be fronting an incredibly deep ensemble. You know it is a big cast when a knighted actor and a former Doctor Who appear rather late in the credits (Sir John Standing, memorably dignified as Gloucester’s Butler, and Christopher Eccleston as Oswald, Goneril’s steward).

Emma Thompson, Emily Watson, and Florence Pugh from Lady Macbeth are also arguably quite a dream team as the three daughters. Thompson is wonderfully Machiavellian as Goneril (a name that has fortunately fallen out of favor), while Pugh is quite poignant as Cordelia, but Watson’s Regan suffers when compared to Thompson. Andrew Scott continues to be one of the best character actors in the business with his intense turn as Edgar, Gloucester’s legitimate heir. However, the most likely award nominees should be the two Jims: Downtown Abbey’s Jim Carter as Kent and Jim Broadbent as Gloucester, both of whom give terrific, deeply absorbing performances.

Eyre’s adaptation is really quite faithful, shotgunning every notable plot point into one hour and fifty-five minutes. He also keeps the language and the general tone of Shakespeare’s play, while cinematographer Ben Smithard (whose classy credits include Viceroy’s House and I, Anna) gives it all a sinister sheen. It might be unusually svelte for a Shakespeare production, but it is still a very well-put-together package. Highly recommended, King Lear starts streaming this Friday (9/28), on Amazon Prime.

The Love Punch: Where’s the Pink Panther When We Need Him?

Due diligence is a general business term for the standard practice of verifying everything is on the up-and-up before engaging in a long-term contractual arrangement. For instance, Richard Jones might have at least googled the French outfit he sold his company to. Instead, he blithely signed on the dotted line and received a nasty surprise when the company and his entire pension were plundered. On the plus side, he will have time to reconnect with his ex-wife and fellow wiped out pensioner when they pursue a little payback in Joel Hopkins’ The Love Punch (trailer here), which opens tomorrow in New York.

Jones was scheduled to retire one week after the transfer, but when he arrives at work he finds the offices padlocked. Not only did he sink his entire pension in the company, he also convinced all his co-workers and his ex, Kate, to do the same. Yet, Jones does not even have a contact name at the French conglomerate he somehow made the deal with. After an awkward conversation with Kate, they skype their hacker college student son to get some intel. It turns out the robber baron in question is Vincent Kruger, who just purchased the world’s largest diamond as a wedding gift for his fiancée, Manon.

Since the most famous diamond on earth will be a snap to fence for first time thieves, the Joneses (she kept his name for convenience sake) set out to steal it. They will enlist their mutual pals, Jerry and Penelope, to impersonate two Texan couples Kruger hopes to do business with. In the process, Kate unexpectedly befriends the ditzy but decent Manon.

Sadly, Punch’s humor is just as dumb as its business sense. It is rather painful watching Emma Thompson try to maintain her dignity. Still, her pleasant chemistry with Pierce Brosnan is about the only thing that works in the film. When Hopkins is not going for yucks, their couple stuff feels kind of real. It is also somewhat depressing to watch Brosnan suffering the aches a pains of late middle age, but as he himself admits, he was never a very good James Bond (Tomorrow Never Dies was by far his best, due largely to Michelle Yeoh).

Ordinarily, Timothy Spall is always the saving grace of a misfiring b-movie, such as Assassin’s Bullet, but his shtick as a former international adventurer-turned inconspicuous homebody might actually make matters worse. As Manon, Loise Bourgoin follows the same playbook she used in The Girl from Monaco, but it seems downright restrained here.

Thompson and Brosnan could have made a very good film playing a divorced couple that starts sparking again, but they are simply overwhelmed by Hopkins’ slapsticky screenplay. It is a shame to waste the inviting French Riviera locations on such a clownish mess, but hopefully the talented cast had a chance to enjoy the sights. Not worth hating on, but certainly not recommended for anyone, The Love Punch opens this Friday (5/23) in New York.

Chewy Verse: The Song of Lunch

Sometimes bad poets create interesting verse. Such will be the case when an unnamed unhappy London copy-editor meets an old flame for lunch. The Chianti will help. His internal commentary incorporates elements of the mock epic and the lament in equal measure throughout The Song of Lunch (trailer here), Niall MacCormick’s adaptation of Christopher Reid’s narrative poem, which airs this coming Sunday on PBS’s Masterpiece Contemporary.

“He” as He will be known, never got over “She.” Despite his passion for her, another man whisked her off her feet and stole her away. To add further insult, his rival has since become a world renown man of letters, while he labors in a lowly publishing job (aren’t they all?). At his invitation, She popped over from Paris for the express purpose of having lunch with him at their old Soho haunt. Yet, even though She is visiting from another country, He will be carrying all the baggage.

The man’s narration is sophisticated in a self-consciously erudite way, much as we might assume his poetry to be. He can turn a clever phrase and has a knack for expressing uncomfortably real sentiments, sparing himself least of all. Yet, a little of his resentful ruminations will go a long way. Fortunately, lunch is short meal, clocking in at just under an hour.

Though many viewers might be more than ready for the check when it comes, Masterpiece Contemporary deserves credit for stretching their format. It is not often one sees a film as literate and introspective as Song in theaters, let alone on broadcast television. It is also perfectly cast. Alan Rickman’s rich, warm voice caresses Reid’s poetry, while his flinty edge well serves the character’s lingering bitterness. As She, Emma Thompson is smart and tough, looking the part of an attractive woman of middlish age that a failed poet might continue carrying a torch for.

Deftly helmed by MacCormick, Song offers up moments of quiet poignancy at the most unexpected places. Granted, the narrator can try our patience, but he is supposed to. Ultimately, it rather gracefully expresses that great poetic truth: tempus fugit. Recommended both for its lead performances and its novelty, Song airs this coming Sunday (11/13) on most PBS outlets, as part of the current season of Masterpiece Contemporary.

Expose: Fatal Promises

Mind your business and don’t get involved. Those are words many New Yorkers live by, but it allows some pretty disturbing crimes to continue unchecked behind closed doors. Much to her horror, Academy Award winning actress Emma Thompson learned Eastern European women had been held in sexual servitude behind the blinds of a house in her own tony London neighborhood. That revelation led to her involvement in the international anti-slavery movement and Kat Rohrer’s documentary Fatal Promises, which opens in New York on Wednesday.

Human-trafficking is one trade that does not need any economic stimulus. Second only to drugs, human beings generate an estimated seventy times more illicit profit than the arms trade, according to the film. It is not just women sold into sexual bondage, though that is certainly a considerable percentage. To underscore that point, Rohrer interviews five survivors of modern slavery, two of whom are men.

Katja and Nadja endured the sort of sexual abuse conjured up by the term “white slavery.” Anja would be considered an “economic” slave, forced to toil in an apple orchard without pay, but she was also sexually assaulted during her ordeal. The eighteen-year old Eugene and forty-five year old Nikolai were not afraid of hard work, but were physically broken by their time held captive on Russian crab ships. Their harrowing stories vividly illustrate this is an international problem far greater than a few women sold into brothels.

Rohrer also turns her camera on the international campaign to stop human trafficking, but what she documents does not always inspire confidence. The UN’s GIFT (Global Initiative to Fight Trafficking) spent almost three million dollars on a conference in Vienna that produced no results, but at least the delegates heard a lovely opera aria. After addressing the confab, Thompson derisively described it as “karaoke of the concerned.”

For her part, Thompson comes off far better than most celebrity activists, perhaps because she has a personal connection to the issue. Having befriended one of the women held in bondage in the “massage parlor” that once operated on her street, she has since become involved with The Journey, a multi-media installation dramatizing the experiences of her friend and women like her. (It is scheduled to come to New York in November.) She was even willing to do a Q&A for the film on last Saturday morning in New York, where she never sounded the least bit patronizing or self-important, but like someone genuinely concerned.

Although there are certainly political ramifications to Promises, Rohrer wisely tacks a non-partisan course. When documenting the passage of a New York State anti-trafficking bill, Republican State Sen. Frank Padavan gets credit for shepherding the bill through the State Senate. The documentary also acknowledges the irony that soon after Eliot Spitzer signed the bill he resigned due to a prostitution scandal. As a result, Promises maintains its credibility, making it particularly effective as an advocacy film.

Promises is a disturbing documenting, shining a much needed spotlight on the hidden horrors of a shameful practice. While Putin’s Russia is identified as arguably the most conducive environment, it is clear modern day trafficking rings operate around the world including suburban America and High Street in London. While it might sound like a depressing viewing experience, Promises is an informative film, produced with admirable passion. It opens in New York this Wednesday at the Cinema Village.