Fuze: A Ticking Bomb Caper

This heavy, unexploded German bomb fulfills some of its original purposes, causing fear and panic in London—just 80-some years later than intended. Unearthed at a construct site, it requires the police to evacuate and cordon-off an entire neighborhood while the military defuses it. Yet, somehow, a crew of bank robbers seemed to be expecting it. Even with several tons of explosive distraction, the getaway still turns messy in David Mackenzie’s Fuze, which opens today in theaters.

It takes special expertise to handle newly discovered ordinance, because of internal instability. Major Will Tranter has that expertise, even though he is a bit of a loose cannon himself. Nevertheless, he is quickly dispatched to London, where he examines the suddenly ticking bomb.

Meanwhile, Karalis gets to work with his contracted crew, bashing through a connecting wall and drilling into a bank’s safety deposit vault. However, it seems pretty clear, “X,” “Y,” and “Z” do not completely trust Karalis, even though he is the one who knows where all the good stuff is.

Unfortunately, the biggest twist is a little too easy to figure out. You don’t even have pay especially close attention either. In fact, you might have already guessed it. Nevertheless, the second half features enough double-crosses to keep the getaway sufficiently chaotic. The good guys never look stupid either. They are just starting from way, way behind.

In some ways, Ben Hopkins’s screenplay can be a little too coy, but it ultimately somewhat upends viewers’ assumptions. Mackenzie stages some decent cat-and-mouse sequences, but the action needs more scope and spectacle. Frankly, the film just leaves the impression it is the simplified version of a more ambitious concept.

Stealing Pulp Fiction

During the mid-1990s, tons of filmmakers “stole” from Quentin Tarantino. Presumably the mediocre ones were only borrowing. Regardless, he must be used to getting ripped-off by now, but he understandably draws the line at physical theft. Of course, a couple of knuckleheaded movie buffs prefer to consider it a sincere form of flattery when they get the bright idea to rob Tarantino’s personal print of Pulp Fiction from his own movie theater in director-screenwriter Danny Turkiewicz’s Stealing Pulp Fiction, which opens this Friday in theaters.

If Jonathan and Steve saw this film, they would probably slam it for being a pale carbon copy. After watching a special screening of Tarantino’s print at a theater not specifically identified as the New Beverly (presumably for legal reasons) they hatch the brilliant to steal it. The “and do what” part is always a little vague. For such an undertaking, they will need some back-up, so they recruit Jonathan’s caustic frenemy, Elizabeth, whom Steve carries a torch for.

Ill-advisedly, the criminal masterminds also enlist their mutual shrink, Dr. Mendelbaum, who recently moved his practice into the back room of a martial arts dojo. It is there that another patient, Rachel, catches Jonathan’s eye. Their plan is not particularly well-thought-out, but they roll with it, at least until Tarantino’s presence at the second screening gives them cause to pause and reconsider.

There is no question Seager Tennis’s portrayal of Tarantino, or “Quentin F’ing Tarantino,” as the film calls him, is by far the funniest thing going for it. In fact, Tarantino would probably laugh at Tennis’s tough guy persona, which would not be out of place in his films. Unfortunately, Jason Alexander gets a lot more screen time as the ultra shticky Mandelbaum. Basically, his performance is on par with his cheesy mayonnaise commercials.

Frankly, it must be hard for Cazzie David, Larry David’s daughter, to see Alexander sink to such levels. However, she maintains her dignity as the ruthlessly snarky Elizabeth, whose withering commentary often echoes the audience’ sentiments.

Cash Out, Starring John Travolta

It is always super-awkward running into an ex, but especially so during a hostage crisis. Mason Goddard could simply release Amelia Decker if she were one of the hostages, but since she is the FBI negotiator, he is stuck with her. She almost busted him once, but she is the least of his problems in [just plain] Ives’s Cash Out, which releases tomorrow in theaters and on-demand.

Goddard really digs Decker until she foils his plan to steal a collection of rare sports cars. He escapes justice, but lands in a deep depression. As a result, he is not paying sufficient attention to the hair-brained caper his idiot little brother Shawn cooks up for the gang until it is too late. He tries to abort, but things just spin out of control too quickly.

Supposedly, they are looking for a crypto-wallet in a certain safety-deposit box, but it soon becomes clear they were set up. There is still a fateful box, but it is very different from what they were led to believe. The owner also happens to be the kind of shady billionaire smart crooks avoid crossing. However, the payoff could be huge.

The bank job-hostage crisis business in Cash Out is surprisingly well done. This is definitely another VOD thriller for John Travolta, but it could have been one of his better ones. Frustratingly, the film loses massive credibility points when the CIA and Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) take control of the response away from Decker, at the billionaire’s behest. Repeat after me: the CIA has no domestic operating authority, so if they took over an FBI operation, the Attorney General would be in the Oval Office raising H-E-double hockey sticks. This is what happens when public schools stop teaching civics.

Nevertheless, Travolta looks like he is having a good deal of fun playing Goddard. He also has decent chemistry with Kristin Davis, as the reasonably competent and intuitive Special Agent Decker. Frankly, it is rather nice to see a mainstream commercial film featuring a romantic couple who are both over fifty.

Heist 88, on Showtime

Contemporary caper movies clearly suggest computerization made the banking system more susceptible to hacking-savvy thieves. Yet, the truth is the greatest vulnerabilities in a security system are the spots that require human touches. Jeremy Horne is a master at exploiting those human weaknesses. In 1988, Chicago’s largest bank was on the verge of computerization, but that left just enough time for Horne to try to pull off a big score in Manhaj Huda’s Heist 88, which premieres Friday on Showtime (and Paramount+ with Showtime).

Horne (loosely inspired by the real-life Armand Moore) has already been convicted of fraud in Detroit, but before he must surrender himself, he jaunts down to Chicago for his brother’s memorial service. That night, he is super-interested to learn his nephew Marshall King, has several friends who work in the wire transfer department of a major bank, but they are all underpaid and under-appreciated. Of course, that gets Uncle Jeremy thinking.

They know the CFOs and money movers who frequently call to transfer money. Therefore, if they also know their codes (confirmed independently over the phone), they can transfer their funds. Horne just needs to arrange the right distractions to help facilitate the process. He also must maintain the trust of King and his friends, but that gets tricky when he keeps springing new accomplices on them. He does it anyway, because he wants to arrange a nice pay day for his old cronies, Buddha Ray and Bree Barnes. Plus, he will need their experience as fellow conmen.

There is a lot fun capery stuff in Heist 88. There is also an intriguing time-capsule dimension, capturing the banking industry in a time of technological transition (which banking industry employees should particularly appreciate). This was the end of an era for an old school bluff-your-way-through crook like Horne.

Unfortunately, the social commentary is often intrusive and way off target. Seriously, 1988 was a great year for economic opportunity—for everyone in America, across the board. However, screenwriter Dwayne Johnson-Cochran makes it sound like the early 1930s. It is a shame, because it interrupts some great performances.

It is always cool to watch crafty character actors like Courtney B. Vance and Keith David do their things. Heist 88 gives them both a good showcase to do exactly that, as Horne and Ray, respectively. Keesha Sharp (whom you hopefully do not recognize from Titanic 666) is also terrific as Barnes.

Bandit, Co-Starring Mel Gibson

Robert Whiteman racked up more frequent flyer points than George Clooney in Up in the Air. That was one of the perks of being “The Flying Bandit,” aside from all the free money banks gave him (not voluntarily). He was a good bluffer, who carefully prepared for each heist, but the security of Canadian banks also looks invitingly lax, at least judging from Allan Ungar’s Bandit, which releases tomorrow in theaters and on-demand.

Gilbert Galvan, Jr. was a small-time crook, who headed north in 1985, after escaping from an American minimum-security prison. He adopted the name Whiteman after buying a homeless derelict’s ID to get a job selling popsicles. Poor Det. Snydes might have been saved a great deal of aggregation if the popsicle company had not decided to down-size their bike-cart operation. Instead, he started using techniques he picked up from a theatrical costume store to rob banks, while romancing Andrea, the evening admitting clerk at the homeless shelter he is crashing at. That is definitely a power move.

Whiteman gets plenty of insight into Canadian bank security practices just by asking. Seriously, this story is so Canadian. Of course, Galvan/Whiteman cannot keep knocking over banks in the same town where he wants to make a life with his new girlfriend. To properly expand his business, he takes a loan from Tommy Kay, the local gangster-fence, who becomes his business partner. Soon, Whiteman/Galvan is jet-setting across Canada, holding up branches of his favorite national bank.

Even though Galvan was born here, Kay and Syndes are probably the characters American viewers will most identify with. It certainly helps that Mel Gibson plays Kay with such impish glee. He really has become the go-to guy to elevate okay VOD thrillers to the next level.

Armored, Co-Starring the Late Fred Ward

Given the runaway rate of inflation, it now hardly seems worth an armored car crew’s efforts to steal a $42 million shipment of cash from the Federal Reserve. During the pandemic, the Fed was pumping that kind of cash into the economy on a daily basis. Add to that a reckless fiscal policy and lo and behold, we have sky-high inflation. On the other hand, even back in 2009, Los Angeles looks so bleak and depressed, $42 mil would presumably go a long way there. Regardless, Ty Hackett’s workmates are taking the shipment whether he approves or not in Nimrod Antal’s Armored, which airs on Bounce TV.

Hackett just passed his probationary period at Eagle Shield, but he is still struggling to make ends meet, ever since he assumed custody of his younger brother. The veteran is trying to do right, but Social Services is threatening to take annoying Jimmy away from him. Hackett’s godfather Mike Cochrane helped bring him into the company and now he has another idea to help, but it’s the kind of bad help Hackett doesn’t want any part of.

Initially, Hackett refuses to participate in Cochrane’s plan to fake an armed robbery of the Fed shipment, but Social Services and threats of foreclosure force him to reconsider. Nevertheless, when Cochrane’s co-worker-accomplices kill a homeless bystander and shoot a cop, Hackett turns on them. Trapped in a post-industrial cellular dead-zone, Hackett barricades himself and wounded Officer Jake Eckehart in the second armored car, after burning up the cash in the first. From there, an old school game of cat-and-mouse plays out.

Way back when Armored opened in theaters it was not screened for critics. That still seems strange, because Antal had a bit of a reputation for his debut feature, Control, produced in his native Hungary. It’s also not a bad film. Antal’s approach is dark and grungy, which actually makes it rather stylish.

As Hackett and Cochrane, Columbus Short and Matt Dilllon both look like they are carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders. Both men are rendered with down-to-earth complexity. In contrast, the rest of the crew are basically stock characters. However, Jean Reno, Laurence Fishburne, and Skeet Ulrich still project a lot of color and energy on-screen, which is definitely a skill.

Michael Bay’s Ambulance

This would be a good day in Los Angeles to do your banking online, for the usual reasons of traffic and street crime. Nevertheless, a rookie cop happens to want to ask out a pretty teller. Instead of a rom-com, he walks into a heist movie. After he is shot by a reluctant bank-robber, Officer Zach’s ride to the hospital is hijacked by two desperate armed robbers (very well armed) in Michael Bay’s Ambulance, which opens nationwide tomorrow.

Afghanistan veteran Will Sharp’s wife needs an experimental cancer treatment, so naturally insurance will not cover it. Swallowing his pride, he visits his estranged adopted brother Danny for a loan. Instead, he offers his brother a gig on a bank heist due to go down in minutes. Danny took over their father’s criminal business, but at least he is not the violent psycho killer the old man was. Unfortunately, this job is going to get unusually messy.

It turns out Captain Monroe was waiting outside the bank with his flying squad, or whatever he calls them. With the other three losers incapacitated, the Sharp brothers commandeer the ambulance dispatched for Officer Zach to sneak out of the trap. It not a clean getaway though. Like it or not, they have EMT Cam Thompson and the critically wounded Zach as hostages. While they evade Monroe’s dragnet, they desperately need Thompson to keep the officer alive, to prevent them ever facing murder charges.

Ambulance is a perfect example of why Michael Bay is probably the only genuine auteur, with an immediately recognizable visual style, currently working within the Hollywood system. Even if you knew nothing about Ambulance, you could probably guess it is a Michael Bay film within the first five minutes. In this case, that’s actually a compliment.

There are still plenty of crazy explosions and car crashes in Ambulance, but it is a much more grounded film than Bay’s Transformer spectacles. There is legit character development and drama here. Jake Gyllenhaal is impressively off-the-wall, pushing the envelop of deranged, as Brother Danny. Yahya Abdul-Mateen has the less flashy role, but he is suitably intense as the driven and guilt-wracked Brother Will. Eiza Gonzalez holds her own against both of them as Thompson, who has a surprisingly potent character development arc of her own.

However, the real star that will come out of Ambulance is Bay’s mastiff Nitro, who plays Monroe’s loyal dog, whom he somehow fits in the back of his Fiat. The big guy just has massive screen presence. For the record, his co-star, Garret Dillahunt is terrific too as the sly, sarcastic police captain.

Graf at Anthology: The Cat

They are stealing Deutschmarks not Euros, using walkies instead of cellphones. This is the late 1980s, but most of the bank heist business still holds up pretty well. One thing remains a metaphysical certainty, weaponized marital resentment can be deadly and unpredictable. Bank robbers make strange bedfellows in Dominik Graf’s The Cat, which screens as part of the Graf retrospective at Anthology Film Archives.

Jutta Ehser is the inside person, who will help the mysterious Probek rob her husband’s bank. It is safe to say their marriage has been strained lately. Probek is the eye in the sky, who will keep the two gunmen in the bank informed of the police activity outside from his vantage point in a luxury high-rise hotel. Junghein and Britz are the two suckers he recruited to take the bank employees hostage. Voss is the coolly cerebral cop in charge of the standoff. He and Probek are evenly matched, but Junghein and Britz are in serious trouble.

Of course, Frau Ehser is not just collaborating Probek to hurt her husband. She is also carrying on a steamy affair with the criminal mastermind, as the opening scene so vividly establishes. Frankly, The Cat is like the Body Heat of heist movies—rather surprisingly, since it is German.

It is also super-sleek and lethally effective. Graf makes hay with the claustrophobic settings, while screenwriter Christoph Fromm’s adaptation of Uwe Erichsen’s novel keeps the betrayals and reversals of fortune coming at a healthy gallop. Frankly, it is easy to see why The Cat was a box office hit in Germany. Its canny use of Eric Burdon & the Animals’ “Good Times” also propelled the single back up the German charts.

Götz George is as slick as the film is as the delightfully cold and manipulative Probek. He is a villain worthy of great era of high-concept Eighties cinema. Gudrun Landgrede matches him step for step as Ehser, the femme fatale. Joachim Kemmer is perfectly world-weary and hard-bitten as Voss, while Ulrich Gebauer really provides the secret ingredient, pulling off several surprises in a surprisingly smart and nuanced performance as Herr Ehser.

Shame on everyone who was scouting for the major studios in 1988, because The Cat would have been a perfect property for a Hollywood remake. Maybe it still is. It certainly hooks viewers quickly and leaves quite an impression. Highly recommended for fans of 80s heist-thrillers, The Cat screens this Saturday (5/25), at Anthology Film Archives.

Museo: The Great Mexico City Art Heist

Frankly, it is not hard to fathom how a couple of amateur thieves managed to walk off with a spectacular haul of Pre-Columbian art from the National Museum of Anthropology in Mexico City. The alarm had been broken for three years and the guards also happened to be drunk. Alonso Ruizpalacios largely lets the museum staff off the hook in his free interpretation of the 1985 Christmas Eve heist. He also choses to skip over the thieves’ connection to narcotics traffickers. However, the perps really were slacker veterinary students—that much is true in Ruizpalacios’s fabulistic Museo (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

Museo is the sort of film that warns us through voice-overs right from the start that what we are about to witness will be filtered through the narrators’ lies and biases—and it will revisit that theme again just before the moment of truth. For the time being, we watch Juan Nuñez get the germ of the idea while working a crummy summer job at the museum and subsequently refine his scheme while he and his best pal Benjamin Wilson are aimlessly scuffling.

Due to an accelerated renovation schedule, Nuñez and the reluctant Wilson must carry out their plans on Christmas Eve, but that turns into a blessing in disguise. However, it forces Wilson to leave his ailing father during what will presumably be his final Christmas, introducing a continuing source of tension that threatens to divide the friends during their misadventures. Ironically, stealing the priceless artifacts turns out to be the easier part. Fencing the hotter than hot goods is far trickier. However, Nuñez knows a guy in Palenque who knows a guy in Acapulco. Along the way, Nuñez will also meet his great movie lust, Sherezada, an analog for Mexican sex symbol-starlet Princesa Yamal, who was implicated in the 1985 robbery.

Usually, when films alter history it is for the sake of punching up the drama, but Ruizpalacios and co-screenwriter Manuel Alcala do the opposite, covering up all the really seedy and lurid parts (full story here). The absence of the drug and antiquity trafficking ring the real-life Carlos Percher Trevino became associated with is a conspicuous white-washing of history.

On the other hand, Ruizpalacios builds considerably more tension during the big heist sequence than probably the case for Percher and his accomplice, Ramon Sardina Garcia. In place of the wider criminal conspiracies, Ruizpalacios gives us a mediation on th Mexican national character and a rebuke of the prejudice often leveled at indigenous Mexican descendants, such as Wilson.

Gael Garcia Bernal is sufficiently petulant as the entitled Nuñez, but it is Leonardo Ortizgris who really connects as the loyal but conflicted Wilson. It is also great fun to watch Simon Russell Beale steal his scenes as the dodgy art collector, Frank Graves. However, the Museum is the real attraction in all its modernist glory. This was the first time the museum granted limited access, which Ruizpalacios shows it off nicely, from the plundered statues of Aztec gods to grand courtyard. The design team also seamlessly recreated the museum interiors for the extended heist sequence.

Even though it is a rather embarrassing incident for the museum to revisit, the film should spur an increase in tourist traffic. Museo starts out quite compellingly, but it gets lost in its own head for a while once it leaves Mexico City and its Satellite suburb. Ruizpalacios never promises us the truth, we get it, but there is still enough capery stuff to hold most viewers interest. Recommended on balance as an art-house art heist film, Museo opens this Friday (9/14) in New York, at the Angelika Film Center and the Landmark 57 West.

S.M.A.R.T. Chase: Orlando Bloom’s Shanghai Job

In today’s go-go Shanghai, transporting valuable art should be a high-growth business. Unfortunately, Danny Stratton’s company suffers when they lose a Van Gogh in the prologue. However, they will have a chance for redemption when his closest competitor is killed in a car bombing. The whole living-and-breathing thing will definitely give him a competitive advantage, but he wants some payback to go with his comeback in Charles Martin’s British-Chinese co-pro S.M.A.R.T. Chase (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

One minute, Stratton is riding high in the back of an armored car and before you know it, he is doing demeaning bodyguard work for club kids. His core group stayed with his company (Security Management Action Recovery Team): the grizzled hardnose, Mach Ren, the martial arts specialist J. Jae An, and the drone flying computer geek teen, Ding Dong Tang. Alas, Stratton’s sort of fiancée, Ling Mo (Mach’s niece) throws him over, because she gets sick of his self-pity. Yet, she helps him get back in the game with a contract to transport a priceless vase. When the gang that stole the Van Gogh takes a run at the vase, Stratton goes off script, deciding to play for all the marbles.

As far as action movie premises go, this one is perfectly fine, but Martin and screenwriter Kevin Bernhardt never take it far enough. The producers really should have brought in a moonlighter from Jonnie To’s Milkway Image to punch it up. Instead, all of the action scenes have a rather competent blandness to them.

Still, it is great fun to watch Simon Yam play a slightly unhinged character like Mach, even when he is half-asleep, which seems to be the case here. Orlando Bloom is better than you might expect as Stratton, but that bleach-blond look is such a mistake. Even though An is not much of a character, Hannah Quinlivan shows all kinds of future potential as she struts through the film. Yet, the honors for effort and execution go to Jing Liang, who vamps it up as villainess Tara Yen, whose fingers nails are the most memorable aspect of the film. On the other hand, Martin unforgivably squanders Shi Yanneng/Xing Yu and his real deal Shaolin chops as Long Fei, Yen’s chief henchman.

Given the terrific supporting cast, S.M.A.R.T. Chase (a.k.a. The Shanghai Job, a.k.a. S.M.A.R.T.: Dragon and Phoenix, a.k.a. Smart Chase: Fire & Earth) really ought to be several times better than it is, especially since Bloom isn’t so bad as a martial arts lead. You also have to wonder if the compulsively busy Yam still remembers filming S.M.A.R.T. Whatever. It feels like it was deliberately made to be a time killer to watch on international flights. Not really recommended, but just sort of eh, S.M.A.R.T. Chase opens today (8/31) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

211: Nic Cage Under Fire

It is based on the 1997 North Hollywood shootout, possibly the most notorious bank robbery in American history not perpetrated by John Dillinger or John Wojtowicz, the Dog Day Afternoon dude. Or so we are told. In addition to changing the names of the guilty and innocent alike, this heist movie almost completely alters the surrounding circumstances. Of course, it hardly matters, because this is a Nic Cage movie. In between flying bullets, viewers can enjoy a lecture on bullying in York Alec Shackleton’s 211 (trailer here), which opens this Friday in Los Angles.

Over in Iraq, a group of mercs are about to whack a scumbag development executive, who plundered reconstruction funds and then stiffed the hired help. They arrive seconds too late, because his finance guru is able to disperse all the funds into anonymous small dollar accounts, tucked away in modest, unassuming provincial banks. Feeling rather put-out, they induce their former employer to name one of the banks before capping him. They then set off from the war zone to Somewhere, Pennsyltucky to rob it blind.

Of course, this plan makes no sense. The bank was not party to any of these nefarious deeds and according to the film’s own set-up, there is only a fraction of the take squirreled away there. It is like the entire film is based around a rash temper tantrum.

Mike Chandler, ominously due to retire, just so happens to be cruising around the 1^st National Bank of Squaresville, with his partner and son-in-law, Steve MacAvoy. Poor Chandler is on the outs with his daughter, because he did not properly emote during his late wife’s demise. For extra added manipulativeness, Chandler has a ride-along, Kenny the pre-teen, who was nearly expelled for decking his bully. Things are about to get bloody when the bank robber detonate a bomb at a diner to distract the cops, but Chandler is too intuitive for that kind of ploy. Unfortunately, he is still drastically out-gunned.

Shackleton’s screenplay simply makes no sense whatsoever. Even more problematically, the villains are about as bland and colorless as they can possibly be, without completely evaporating into the atmosphere. These two considerable drawbacks are actually quite a shame, because Shackleton’s execution as a director isn’t bad at all. There are some pretty tense shootouts in this film, but the extraneous stuff surrounding them is all very ridiculous.

It definitely feels strange to describe Cage as a stabilizing presence, but that is about the size of this film. It is also fun to watch Albanian pop star Bleona make deductive leaps out of nothing as Christine, the Interpol agent. Granted, Interpol does not function that way. It is more of a clearing house for information, but whatever. The rest of the cast is either immediately forgettable or gratingly annoying.

Although it was probably always destined to be a B-movie, 211 still should have been better than it is. Shackleton’s pacing is tight, but his plotting and characterization are weak. This is the sort of film that proves the advantages of the division of labor. Only for diehard fans of Nic Cage and explosive mayhem, 211 opens this Friday (6/8) in Los Angeles, at the Arena Cinelounge and also releases day-and-date on iTunes.

Carter & June: They’re No Bonnie & Clyde

Most tourists believe they should spend a lot of time on Bourbon Street, because it is famous. Leave it to them. When you are in New Orleans, check out the clubs on Frenchmen and Decatur Streets instead. Frankly, Spencer Rabbit’s strip club is even sleazy than the worst of Bourbon Street, but he intends to expand. However, to do so, he will need to cash to pay-off the grossly corrupt police chief. He intends to raise his liquidity through a bank heist he is fronting, but two former lovers plan to complicate the scheme. Unfortunately, their complications get complicated in Nicholas Kalikow’s Carter & June (trailer here), which opens today in New York.

June O’Malley needs money for lawyers to contest an unfair custody decision. Carter Jennings needs money to prevent Rabbit’s goons from breaking his kneecaps. Together, the former romantic and scam artists partners agree to reunite to intercept Rabbit’s big score. Their inside person will be Rabbit’s inside person: a former stripper he managed to place in an assistant manager position. Her job is to distract the gunman in the safety-deposit vault, her latest conquest, while O’Malley and Jennings switch bags.

It was all supposed to be a sleight of hand job, but when the hold-up turns into a shoot-out, all bets are off. They still manage to make the switch, but now their fates are intertwined with that of Officer Jason Twitty, the beat copper who shot up the joint. The naïf should be easy to manipulate, but his unfaithful, grasping wife Darla Mae Twitty has been doing it longer than they have.

C&J starts out promisingly, with colorful characters and rude, decidedly un-PC humor, but it eventually dissolves into a conventional Tarantino knock-off. Yet, the real problem is the sheer dullness of the co-leads, especially when compared to the infinitely more interesting supporting cast.

There is no denying Timothy Omundson cranks the snide b1tchiness up to eleven as Rabbit. James Landry Hébert certainly tries his hardest as poor Twitty, while James Moses Black (who was really terrific in Dark Meridian) does what he can as the moderately crooked Internal Affairs detective, Duke Johnson (the have quite a sliding scale for corruption in Nola). Alas, the film just can’t get much momentum going, because Michael Raymond-James and Samaire Armstrong are so lethally boring as the title characters.

There is a dab of Crescent City color in C&J, but there is plenty of room for more New Orleans music, culture, and style. That is actually a shame, because the genuine sights and sounds of New Orleans (and Cajun country up north) make anything more fun. Frankly, no Nola film should ever be this bland. Just kind of whatever, Carter & June opens today (5/18) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

ADIFF ’17: The Chemo Club

For two aging former models living in South Africa on their pensions, inflation is way more depressing than liver spots. That assumes they can still access their pension, but a sleazy fund manager has secretly raided small accounts like theirs, to cover-up his other financial shenanigans (by the way, pensioners suffers the exact same consequences when central banks engage in loose money inflation, but you won’t find a lot of screenwriters out there who really understand monetary policy). Regardless, Lulu Fredericks and Faith Moloi want their money back, so they will steal it themselves in Thandi Brewer’s The Chemo Club (trailer here), which screens during this year’s African Diaspora International Film Festival in New York.

In the swinging sixties, Fredericks portrayed Tessa, the action sex-goddess in a series of photo-designed comics books and Moloi was the model for the Pam Grier-esque “Her.” Those were the days. Currently, Moloi works part-time sweeping floors at the hospital where Fredericks just received her fatal cancer diagnosis. Fredericks wants to live out her remaining six months in style, but her pension has mysteriously vanished. Same for Moloi, who is the sole support of her unemployed daughter and entitled grandchildren.

Obviously, Grant Roberts, the odious public face of Trusted Corp is up to no good, but nobody seems to care. Therefore, the only logical course of action is to knock over the joint. Somehow, the brassy Fredericks convinces the more passive Moloi to go along with her scheme. Fanboy Sivu will go along with the caper for the sake of his pop culture thesis. They will also recruit their former photographer and lover, Gerhard, because they obviously need an eighty-year-old with a monocle. Periodically, we watch their comic book alter ego battling villainy, in ways that parallel their ebbing fortunes.

Clearly, Chemo Club is heavily derived from Going in Style and the pre-Kate & Allie Jane Curtain-Susan Saint James vehicle How to Beat the High Cost of Living, which is still the much funnier film, even though it has at least one joke that would cause apoplexy in the current climate. In contrast, Chemo Club is a tame comedy about oldsters doing it for themselves, which barely registers more edge than the embarrassingly slapsticky Love Punch.

Still, Brümilda van Rensburg, the Grand Dame of South African television, has plenty of regal presence as Fredericks. However, she does not develop much chemistry with either Lilian Dube’s Moloi or Tobie Cronje’s Gerhard. At times, Cronje is almost criminally shticky, but Rea Rangaka is probably an even worse offender as Sivu. Yet, somehow Shoki Mokgapa maintains her dignity as Roberts’ innocent assistant, whom Sivu crushes on hard.

It is interesting to see unpretentious popular cinema from other countries, but Chemo Club just doesn’t travel that well (unlike energetically likable South African exports, like Hear Me Move and White Wedding). The comedy is about as broad as it gets and caper fans will feel short-changed by the lack of tick-tock caper details. Best saved for unfussy fans of Marigold Hotels, The Chemo Club screens this Sunday (11/26) and Monday (11/27) at Teachers College, Columbia, as part of the 2017 ADIFF.

Victoria: One Take is All You Get in Berlin

It is like Hitchcock’s Rope on MDMA. It is 4:30 in the morning, but the day is not over yet. There is still plenty of hedonism to indulge in and crimes to commit. Unfortunately, one Spanish expat will ill-advisedly become involved with the latter in Sebastian Schipper’s legitimate, no-cheating one-take feat Victoria (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

After an aimless night of clubbing, Victoria intends to get a quick rest and then report for work at the organic coffee shop around the corner. However, her plans will be fatefully derailed when she runs into Sonne and his three rowdy friends, Boxer, Blinker, and Fuss. Despite her better judgement, she drinks with them, engaging in a minor bit of delinquency. His three amigos are definitely knuckleheads, but there is a real attraction developing between her and Sonne. That is why he is so reluctant to ask for her help when the dead-drunk Fuss is unable to hold up his end of a dodgy bargain—and why she is willing to agree.

While in prison, Boxer enjoyed the protection of the gangster Andi, who has suddenly called to collect. He has a job for Boxer and the lads—a bank job. He happens to know of an early opening branch office with a stash of cash in a safety deposit box. If you think the heist sounds poorly planned, wait till you see the getaway.

Considering it was shot in twenty-two centrally situated locations in uninterrupted real time, Victoria is an absolute marvel of organization. Yes, they stay within a tight geographic perimeter, but the cast and crew were still covering a great deal of ground, running up and down staircases, in and out of buildings, executing chase sequences that bring to mind Run Lola Run, in which Schipper had a supporting role (some might also recognize him as the strongest co-lead of Tykwer’s 3). That is a whole lot of logistics that all came together perfectly.

Frankly, the first act set-up takes a surprisingly long time, but it convincingly establishes Victoria’s budding relationship with Sonne. After the time we spend with them, we can fully accept her decision to serve as their getaway driver. Of course, from that point on, the film is off to the races.

Laia Costa and Frederick Lau are terrific as Victoria and Sonne, while Franz Rogowski and Burak Yigit are all kinds of bad news as Boxer and Blinker, but in a flamboyantly colorful way. Yet what really defines the film is its evocative sense of place (slightly sketchy, hipsterish Berlin) and the after-hours vibe. Schipper perfectly captures that slightly alienating feeling of being awake when all respectable people are safely asleep.

In addition to running his butt off following the action, cinematographer Sturla Brandth Grøvlen gives everything a properly disorienting haze, reflecting the influence of the drugs, alcohol, and trance-inducing club music. Arguably, he also serves as the film’s editor, making editorial decisions on the fly, through his framing. In fact, some of his choices are remarkably astute.

Although the dialogue is largely improvised, there is real substance beneath Schipper’s flashy style. Audiences will not resent investing in his characters. Still, let’s not kid ourselves. The frenetic one-take style is the reason to see his grittily fatalistic caper and it is impressive. Highly recommended for heist movie fans and anybody who just wants to see a filmmaker pull off something cool, Victoria opens this Friday (10/9) in New York, at the Lincoln Plaza.

Rififi: the Grand-Père of Heist Movies Returns

Many think writer Auguste Le Breton joined the French Resistance out of opposition to Vichy’s gambling prohibition. He would survive to become a French Elmore Leonard, known for his gritty action and affinity for slang. As it happened, his source novel was too coarse for genteel American blacklisted director Jules Dassin, who joined the Communist Party in the mid-1930s, right around the time of the Great Purge and the Moscow Show Trials. In order to lose the parts that offended his sensibilities, Dassin expanded the heist scene into half an hour’s worth of wordless action. At one time banned by several countries for its purported criminal instructional value, Dassin’s French noir classic Rififi (trailer here) returns to New York for a special one-week engagement starting this Wednesday at Film Forum.

Tony “le Stéphanois” (from Saint-Étienne) is decidedly the worse for wear after his recent prison stint. He willingly took the rap for Jo “le Suédois (the Swede), whose son Tonio (Tony’s godson and namesake) he dotes on, but his health and finances are in sad shape. To make matters worse, his ex-lover Mado took up with his nemesis, gangster-night club owner Pierre Grutter. After explaining his disappointment to her, Tony will commence planning his next and potentially last big score.

Jo and their mutual crony Mario Ferrati originally conceived of the jewelry store job as a simple smash-and-grab, but Tony wants the prime cuts in the safe. Recruiting Italian safecracker César “le Milanais,” they methodically case the joint and craft their elaborate timetable. The actual half-hour of heist operations is indeed a masterwork of noir filmmaking. However, it somewhat unbalances the film. While there is plenty of good hardboiled stuff in the third act, as the Grutter gang schemes to appropriate the hot ice for themselves, but it necessarily lacks the same hushed intensity of the celebrated centerpiece.

Regardless, Rififi (which very roughly translates as “trouble”) has long been recognized as a noir classic for good reason. Like Le Breton’s books, it has a street smart persona and a street level perspective. It captures the workaday milieu of postwar Paris, especially during the odd hours of the day and night when respectable folks were off the streets. Jean Servais also creates the template for the older, world-weary noir mentor, dealing with the business end of his bad karma. He slow burns like a crock pot with dangerously faulty wiring. Just looking at his lined face makes you want to pop an Advil.

Carl Möhner (probably next most often remembered for She Devils of the SS, which is pretty much what it sounds like), is rather under-heralded for his steady, proletarian work as Jo. However, Dassin himself (billed as Perlo Vita) indulges in a bit of broad ethnic stereotyping, for supposed comic effect, as César.

On heist movie listicals with any sense of history, Rififi inevitably ranks somewhere around number one. It is a film any noir fan has to see to consider themselves literate in the genre. Very highly recommended, Rififi opens this Wednesday (9/2) at Film Forum.

Closer to the Moon: Romania’s Crime of the Century

Irony was usually lost on Communist apparatchiks. It was especially so in this case. The socialist authorities were completely baffled why a small band of former Party members would stage a daring armored car robbery for a few million worthless Romanian leu, at a time when everyone was desperately seeking hard foreign currency. Yet, the absurdity is the whole point for the disillusioned resistance heroes in Nae Caranfil’s Closer to the Moon (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

All the major facts of Moon are historically accurate, but the why’s remain a bit murky. However, Caranfil’s speculations are more than persuasive. They clearly carry the spirit of the truth, even if they cannot be verified by the participants, for reasons one could easily guess. At, one time, police inspector Max Rosenthal and his comrades were ardent Communists and heroes of the resistance. They also happened to be Jewish. The post-war years would have been disheartening enough as the Communist Party proceeded to betray their ideals, but to make matters worse, the group of friends have all largely lost their positions thanks to the Stalin-mandated anti-Semitic purges. Only Rosenthal still maintains his post, entirely due to the fact he is married to the shrewish daughter of his superior. However, he is dead set on a divorce, regardless of the repercussions.

Sadly, Yorgu Ristea, the academic, Razvan Ordel, the journalist, and Dumitru Dorneanu, the research scientists have even worse seats in the same boat. The outlook is nearly as bad for Rosenthal’s old flame, Alice Bercovich, who had been sent abroad to study, but was recalled under ominous circumstances. Unlike the others, she has a son to protect. Yet, against her better judgement, she gets caught up in Rosenthal’s armored car scheme. Conceived as an existential protest, they hope to spur their countrymen to start questioning the claims of the Communist government. Of course, one of the central pillars of its propaganda is the supposed abolition of crime in Romania.

Both the scheme and the punishment are so crazy they have to be true. Rosenthal and his comrades really did perpetrate the heist under the guise of an action movie shoot (it would have been the first in Romania, had it been real). Likewise, the government really did force the condemned prisoners to re-stage the crime for a massively ill-conceived propaganda film. With nothing to lose, the prisoners largely take over the production (aided and abetted by Virgil, the fictionalized apprentice cameraman). Desperate to learn why they did it and who else might be involved, Holban the frazzled bureaucrat, indulges their demands for champagne and caviar, hoping the truth will come out during an unguarded moment. Yet, the truth is all around him, if he could only see it.

Obviously, this story holds tremendous cinematic potential, which Caranfil fully exploits, but he also gives it all a darkly wry comedic twist. At times, it feels like The Lives of Others rewritten by a less manic Alan Ayckbourne, but viewers are constantly reminded of the impending finality. Indeed, Caranfil nicely balances the absurdist humor with the tragic fatalism.

The mostly British cast is particularly well suited to the film’s matter-of-factly sardonic tone, especially Mark Strong, who personifies world-weary dignity as Rosenthal. Vera Farmiga gets to exercise both her drama queen and sultry femme fatale chops as Bercovich, making the most of each. Eventually, Christian McKay will break out for his witty, sophisticated performances, including his work here as the disenchanted Ristea. Game of Thrones’ Harry Lloyd is blandly forgettable as Virgil, but his job is mostly to observe. However, David de Keyser adds real heart and gravitas to the film as Moritz, the camera man’s VOA-listening landlord. British television regular Anton Lesser might also do his career best as the politically vulnerable insomniac, Holban.

Moon bears witness to the crimes of Communism in an unusually droll and humanistic way. It is a finely crafted period production, recreating the space exploration-obsessed late 1950s (hence the title) in detail, but Marius Panduru’s cinematography often looks a little too sunny given the events in question. Regardless, it is a fascinating story (already the subject of at least one worthy Romanian documentary) brought to life by a distinctive cast. It also represents a rare opportunity to see excerpts from the re-enactment film, which the Party immediately locked away in a vault, upon its completion. Highly recommended for fans of heist and con films as well as prestige historicals, Closer to the Moon opens this Friday (4/17) in New York, at the IFC Center.

Son of a Gun: Ewen McGregor Goes Gangster

There is a long cinematic tradition of gangsters and gunmen who were short of stature, but long on presence. Scottish Ewen McGregor follows in the footsteps of less than towering giants like Edward G. Robinson as hardboiled Australian lifer Brendan Lynch, delivering a batch of rather charismatic villainy in Julius Avery’s Son of a Gun (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

It is unclear whether J.R. and his feeble excuse for a moustache will survive prison, but his roommate is a certain goner. Attracting the unwelcomed attention of a hirsute biker rape gang, J.R. makes a deal for protection from Lynch and his associates. In return, once he is paroled, the kid will arrange the details of Lynch’s escape and serve as his management trainee assistant thereafter. Frankly, J.R. could use some direction, so this arrangement is win-win for him. Then he gets an eyeful of Tasha, one of the Russian women “kept” by Lennox, the Euro crime-boss, who finances Lynch’s operations.

Naturally, Lennox has a job for Lynch once he is at-large: an honest to gosh gold mine. The logistics will be a mess, but Lynch and his cronies need the money and are itching for action. After all, what could go wrong, aside from that thing with Tasha and Lynch’s generally erratic nature?

Son is a pretty entertaining little shoot ‘em up, almost entirely thanks to McGregor. Grizzled but wiry, he has the presence of a coiled spring, ready to launch at any moment. He seriously projects a sense of potential danger, making up for his lifeless appearance in Ossage County. Unfortunately, Brenton Thwaites could not possibly be any duller, truly fading into the background as the dumb and inexperienced J.R. Frankly, it is still unclear whether Alicia Vikander will really crossover. She seems uncomfortable vamping it up as a femme fatale, but her Tasha has enough intelligence and poise to totally out-class Thwaites.

Regardless, when Avery is getting down to criminal business, Son works pretty well. The escape sequence is impressively mounted and might just give other potential accomplices ideas. Likewise, the big heist also qualifies as well staged bedlam. However, during quieter times, the film is conspicuously over-written. Avery drives a bit about chimps and bonobo monkeys (decide which best represents your nature, padawan) so deeply into the ground, you’d think he was drilling for oil.

Son is never really surprising, per se, but it executes its crosses and double-crosses with admirable energy. Nobody is slacking off here, except maybe Thwaites’ facial hair, but McGregor truly takes possession of the film. We really haven’t seen him stretch out in this direction before, but he pulls it off. Recommended overall for fans of prison-heist-noir hybrids, Son of a Gun opens this Friday (1/23) in New York at the Quad Cinema.

Thieves: The Macao Job

In the movies, casinos exist just so they can be taken down.  However, one Korean criminal mastermind is not just pulling a heist because the casino is there, like Everest in downtown Macao.  He is out for payback.  Nor is he is not the only one looking to settle scores in Choi Dong-hoon’s Thieves (trailer here), which opens this Friday in New York.

A monster hit in Korea, Thieves has just about all the classic heist movies elements.  There is Popie, the cynical ringleader, Yenicall, his hot new accomplice to shimmy about in Cat Woman suits, and her predecessor, Pepsee, fresh out of prison.  They have been recruited for a job in former Portuguese colony by the man Popie and Pepsee blame for her incarceration, their former partner, Macao Park.

After a rather unfortunate incident in an elevator shaft, Macao Park disappeared with a bag full of gold, reinventing himself as a bank breaker in Macao’s casinos, thereby earning his new moniker.  It is not the casino’s cash Park is after this time.  He is interested in the “Tear of the Sun,” a spectacular diamond a guest is storing in their vault.  That would be Tiffany, the mistress of mobbed-up fence Wei Hong.  The plan is to steal the diamond and sell it back to Hong, with the help of a Hong Kong crew led by the sly Chen (for the record, this will make them an even ten).  That might not sound like a very good plan, because it isn’t, but it’s not really what many of the conspirators have in mind.  There are a lot of agendas at play in Thieves that will inevitably lead to a series of crosses and double crosses.

Dripping with style, Thieves will draw obvious comparisons to the Oceans franchise, but it is rather better than that.  While there is comic relief here and there (mostly from Oh Dal-su’s crook, Andrew), Thieves is far edgier with very real sense of danger present throughout.  Nobody here mugs for the camera or tries to show the audience how much fun they are having.  They are professionals and not all of them are going to make it.

Thieves also has something else the Oceans lack: Simon Yam, bringing all kinds of HK action movie cred as the crafty old Chen.  This is a great part for him, allowing him to stretch out as he develops romantic chemistry with Kim Hae-suk’s “Chewing Gum,” the mature Korean con woman he has been paired up with. 

Yet, Yam does not quite out-grizzle Kim Yun-seok’s Macao Park.  Rumpled in a noir way, he could kick Clooney’s butt while still hung over, much like his breakout character in The Chaser (but not quite as dark).  Also recognizable to international audiences (from The Snow Flower and the Secret Fan, among other films), Gianna Jun makes flirtation looks dangerous as the seductive cat burglar Yennical.

Clearly, Choi was not afraid to cut loose with third act action sequences.  There will be no place for smug looks over champagne when it is all said and done, which is what makes it so refreshing.  An amped-up but pleasingly devious heist movie, Thieves is highly recommended for genre fans when it opens this Friday (10/12) in New York at the AMC Empire.

NY Latino Film Fest ’12: 180 Seconds

Evidently, Colombia is now more concerned with armed robbers than Marxist terrorists or drug cartels.  Sounds like progress to me.  It is still a dangerous country though, especially for a gang of takers about to be taken in Alexander Giraldo’s 180 Seconds (trailer here), which screens during this year’s New York Latino Film Festival.

Zico is planning a major heist on the day of an all important World Cup qualifying game against Uruguay.  Viewers know from the flashback structure, both will end badly for the home teams.  It seems Zico’s gang got played, but Giraldo keeps the details sketchy, hop-scotching back and forth along the timeline, often replaying several key scenes, but backing up successively further each time to supply more context.

Zico’s outfit is a family affair, including his beloved hacker sister Angelica and their lifelong boon companion, El Guajaro.  Rincon is the only outsider in the mix, hired on the advice of their nicked pal.  He seems to fit in, because strong sullen types always do.  However, when he catches Angelica’s eye, it causes a bit of friction between the new guy and her suspiciously co-dependent brother.  Zico acts like things are cool, but you never can tell with him.  Regardless, things will get bloody when it is finally go time.

With its time-shifts and a plot often paralleling Reservoir Dogs, 180 owes an obvious debt to Tarantino.  Still, Giraldo gives it a hedonistic club kid vibe totally unlike the talkie lowlife gangster milieu of indie dweeb-god’s films.  Though the constant flashes forwards and back sound annoying as a migraine, Giraldo handles them quite deftly, often focusing on some nice character establishing bits, while supplying more pieces to the narrative puzzle.

Manuel Sarmiento Vallejo gets it, playing Zico, the unstable mastermind, to the hilt.  Angelica Blandon is also pretty spot on as her namesake, the flirtatious and petit pseudo-femme fatale.  Conversely, though he might be playing the muscle, Alejandro Aguilar is a weak presence as Rincon, which is a drawback, considering he has the heaviest character development arc.

Nonetheless, Giraldo packs a lot of style and energy into 180, but never to the point that it substitutes for substance.  In recent years, some of the best Latin American films have come from Colombia, such as Ciro Guerra’s The Wind Journeys and Jorge Navas’s dynamite noir morality play Blood and Rain.  While not quite at the level of the latter, 180 is still an impressively executed crime drama.  Recommended for those who appreciate the grittier side of the heist genre or closely follow Colombian cinema, 180 Seconds screens this Friday night (8/17) at the Chelsea Clearview as part of the 2012 NY Latino Film Fest.

Boston Banking: The Town

How does Red Sox Nation make ends meet? Evidently, armed robbery is the leading source of employment in the Charlestown section of Boston. Everyone might be doing it, but Doug MacRay’s gang is good at it. One particularly ambitious bank job earns them a whole lot of federal attention in Ben Affleck’s The Town (trailer here), which opens nationwide this Friday.

MacRay’s combination armored car/bank heist went just about exactly as planned. However, when Jem Coughlin, his edgy childhood friend, briefly takes the bank manager hostage, it later raises security questions for the crooks. While shadowing the shell-shocked Claire Keesey, circumstances lead MacRay to ask her out. Naturally, things start to develop, which is hard to explain to Coughlin, who still hopes MacRay will get back together with his sister Krista, an oxy-addled trampy single mother.

Harboring ambitions of a new life, MacRay wants out, but Charlestown’s local crime boss "Fergie the Florist" has other ideas. He has a source that can get them into the cash vault inside Fenway Park, a Boston stadium that became a minor footnote in sports history due to the semi-pro team that plays there. Of course, getting in is the easy part. Needless to say, the dogged Special Agent Adam Frawley is out to complicate matters further.

Based on the novel Prince of Thieves by Chuck Hogan, Town is not exactly the most original story, but the execution is consistently sharp. Effectively weaving back and forth from a moody crime drama and a shoot-‘em-up heist movie, Affleck again directs himself and a noteworthy ensemble cast quite well. His MacRay basically comes in three speeds: coolly down-to-business, sullen, and armed & seething, but frankly that is about right for a heist noir protagonist.

However, Town’s real star might be Mad Men’s Jon Hamm, who supplies a jolt of electricity whenever he is on-screen as MacRay’s G-man nemesis. A truly fine ensemble piece, the talented Rebecca Hall is also somehow able to scratch out some memorable scenes for the “woe-is-me” Keesey (much as she did in Nicole Holofcener’s self-important mish-mash Please Give). Pete Postlethwaite and Chris Cooper add further colorful texture as Fergie and MacRay’s incarcerated father, respectively. As for Blake Lively, she certainly looks like an armored carload of trouble as sister Krista.

Clearly, Affleck has a visible affinity for Town’s noir-ish genre and Boston setting. He also seems to be working his way through the city’s official neighborhoods, following-up his acclaimed Dorchester-set directorial debut Gone Baby Gone. It appears to be a fairly rich vein for him to mine. Indeed, Town is pretty solid all the way around, featuring some scene-stealing work from Hamm. It opens wide today (9/17), including the Village East here in New York.