October 2021

THE FRENCH DISPATCH (2021)

     Wes Anderson, with a great painter’s eye for details, has crafted a striking piece of original filmmaking, filled with so many finely constructed shots and dryly hilarious performances that multiple viewings seem required. I haven’t seen a movie as rich or accomplished as this in years.

      Using techniques he’s flirted with in previous films, Anderson offers a visual homage, clearly enjoying the irony, to great magazine writing of last century, as exemplified in the New Yorker. He lets the quirky writers narrate their stories that range from a profile of a prison painter to a legendary police cook.

    “The French Dispatch,” the name of this eccentric magazine that began as a Sunday insert to a Kansas newspaper before relocating to Ennui, France (on the river Blasé, of course), opens it pages as a kind of cinematic Power Point, with four stories presented as a sample of the wonderous journalism the New Yorker and other magazines of the era were known for.

      After a quick introduction to the publication’s dour, exacting editor, Arthur Howitzer Jr., son of the original Kansas publisher (a role tailor-made for Bill Murray), Herbsaint Sazerac (Owen Wilson) leads us on a tour of quaint Ennui, a lighthearted warmup for a more substantial piece on Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio Del Toro).

      Convicted of double murder, he occupies his life sentence by painting impressionistic abstracts of the block’s prison guard (Léa Seydoux), who regularly poses nude for Moses. The writer/narrator J.K.L. Berensen (Tilda Swinton, hilariously eloquent) lectures on this art-world sensation to what seems to be gathering of museum members. Anderson manages to skewer both the art world and those who write about it, while composing the kind of offbeat story emblematic of what great writer/reporters regularly dig up.

    The weakest section of the film chronicles a student protest—the leader is played by Timothée Chalamet—as reported by Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand; you knew there’d be a part for her), who, like many of the famed New Journalism practitioners—Tom Wolfe, Hunter S. Thompson—becomes personally involved.       

    The final piece is narrated by Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright), while being interviewed on a television show. He recites by memory his story of a famed cook (Stephen Park) who becomes involved in the kidnapping of the precocious son of a police commissioner (Matheiu Amalric).    

     Beyond the literary touches of the stories, the magic Anderson brings to these extended profiles, as he moves from movie studio realism to animation, using freeze frame, horizonal camera movement and alternating between black-and-white and color, is what makes the film so memorable.

    In addition to the wryly executed major roles there are a dozen memorable performances in small roles, including Adrien Brody and Lois Smith as art experts, Christoph Waltz as an unexpected suitor, Willem Dafoe as a convict, Edward Norton as a chauffeur, Saoirse Ronan as his girlfriend and Anjelica Huston as the film’s overall narrator. (In some odd twist of casting, three members of this cast have prominent roles in “A Time to Die”: Waltz, Wright and Seydoux.)

     Anderson receives sole screenplay credit, but “story by” credits are given to Roman Coppola, Hugo Guinness and Jason Schwartzman (who also plays a member of the magazine’s staff). I dare say that they might have combined for a comedy masterpiece.

  

DUNE (2021)

    In the sci-fi cinematic world we live in, dominated by Avengers, zombies and DC heroes, “Dune” represents a more deliberate, uncluttered, solemn universe.

    The plot of this much-anticipated epic is less complex than a typical 1950s Western and, unlike most important sci-fi literature, offers little critical insight on contemporary society (either of 2021 or 1965, when the Frank Herbert novel was published) in this adaptation.

     While well directed by Denis Villeneuve (“Arrival” and “Blade Runner 2049”) and lushly photographed by Greig Fraser, the movie lacks a compelling story and, with the exception of its young lead, interesting characters. As this is only Part I maybe I’m judging too early, but the same could be said of any of the “Star War” trilogies or the “Avenger” finale; a two-and-a-half-hour film should stand on its own. At this point, the tale didn’t hold my interest.

      Part of the problem is that the people of this world, set centuries in the future, seem to live dull, joyless lives dominated by tribal traditions and mythology. Even the ruling class seems bored (they don’t even have cellphones!); at least those subjugated have a purpose, gaining their freedom, but we don’t see much of them.

     At the center of the story is the planet Arrakis, which supplies this universe with an element called spice that is essential for the universe’s technology. Yet the natives of the planet have been forced into hiding as outsiders rule and mine the desert.

     The newest landlords, led by Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac) and his military leaders (Josh Brolin and Jason Momoa), arrive on Arrakis with the hope of making peace with the natives, led by a stoic Stilgar (Javier Bardem). But the universe’s slimy Emperor (an unrecognizable Stellan Skarsgard) has other plans for the future of the planet (I never understood why) and that sets the action in motion.

     Behind this basic setup lies the mythical aspects of the story in the form of the Duke’s young son Paul (star of the moment Timothée Chalamet), who has inherited supernatural skills from his dour mother (Rebecca Ferguson, best known as part of the “Mission: Impossible” troupe), and is rumored to be some version of the chosen one. His slight frame belies his impressive warrior skills, but he remains a work in progress. It’s his story that will carry the second part of “Dune,” expected in 2023.

    I’ve not been particularly impressed with Chalamet’s acting (he was nominated for “Call Me by Your Name”) in past roles, but here he’s well cast; his Paul slowly evolves from an enthusiastic teen to a thoughtful leader of his clan. I hope that bodes well for Part II.

     I have only vague memories of David Lynch’s 1984 version but considering its poor reputation and the advancement of special effects in the past 35 years, I’m sure this new film better reflects Herbert’s themes. But, thus far, it’s much more sand than vision.   

 

A TIME TO DIE (2021)

    Who would have guessed? Sean Connery spent 10 years (not counting the unofficial 1983 “Never Say Never Again”) as James Bond; Daniel Craig, who retires from the role with this new film, held the 007 portfolio for 15 years. 

       While Craig wasn’t the stereotypical Bond, more brutish, less cautious, clearly coming from less refined upbringing than past incarnations and bringing a quiet sentimentality, he has managed to make the Bond tux and cool demeaner his own. I think few would dispute his ranking as the second-best Bond.

       I don’t think “A Time to Die” will be remembered as top-flight Bond, but it serves well as Craig’s farewell and an unflagging entertainment.

 

     After a lengthy pre-credit intro—during which the evil cabal S.P.E.C.T.R.E., still casing chaos across the globe, steal a biological weapon being developed by British Intelligence—James’ bucolic retirement in Greece with companion Dr. Madeleine Swann (French actress Léa Seydoux) is interrupted. As Michael Corleone lamented in “The Godfather, Part III,” “Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in.” 

      With the help of the new 007 (seems Bond’s legendary posting is quickly filled) Nomi (an under-utilized Lashana Lynch), Bond follows the trail to the man behind this sinister plot, Lyutsifer Safin (where do they get these names?) played by Oscar-winner and over-acting extraordinaire Rami Malek.

       Maybe the most intriguing encounter in the film takes place in a federal lockup where James interrogates his old nemesis Blofeld (the always sly Christoph Waltz), kept enclosed in a glass cage. It’s Bond’s Hannibal-Clarice moment.

    Other familiar faces fill out the cast, including Ralph Fiennes as M, Naomi Harris as Moneypenny, Jeffrey Wright as American spy Felix Leiter and Ben Whishaw as Q.

     As with most Bonds, the climactic scene goes on forever, adding psychological layers and tying up loose ends, to the explosive ending. But director Cary Joji Fukunaga (TV’s “True Detective”) offers a poignant, heartfelt farewell to Craig’s Bond and the formula that has endured 60 years. 

  

CRY MACHO (2021)

   While movie fans should applaud Clint Eastwood for being able to direct and act at age 91, there’s something just as honorable about knowing when it’s time to retire.

    Admittedly, just seven years ago he directed the first rate “American Sniper,” which earned a 2014 best picture nomination, but age catches up to all of us

very quickly. In “Cry Macho,” he clearly struggles to walk and even deliver his lines (Eastwood is not a “young” 91). And, as the man in charge, he seems to have lost his ear for dialogue and what passes for reality on the screen.

     There are so many ludicrous scenes in this film starting with the basic storyline, that it’s hard to take a moment of the picture seriously.

    Clint plays Mike Milo, a broken-down rodeo rider and horse trainer—must have been 40 years earlier—who is asked by his former boss (Dwight Yoakam) to kidnap the man’s son who lives with his mother in Mexico City. That’s who I would send on such a mission—a man who can barely walk across the room.

   It’s Clint, so we are expected to ignore his age—he’s still a can-do kind of cowboy.

    I’m not going to linger over the inane story, but just to give you an idea, he drives right up to the mother’s luxurious hacienda, walks in and announces that he’s there to take her son. In a very short time, this attractive, very rich woman is inviting this elderly stranger into her bed.

     It was historical that Eastwood made three great films as a septuagenarian—“Mystic River” (2003), “Million Dollar Baby” (2004) and “Letters from Iwo Jima” (2006)—and then continued to take on major projects like “J. Edgar” (2011), “Jersey Boys” (2014), “Sully” (2016) and “Richard Jewell” (2019) while in his 80s.

      Now’s the time to go gentle into that good night and be remembered for his unprecedented accomplishments of being one of Hollywood’s most popular movie stars and among its finest directors.

  

THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM (1961) and

CREATURE FROM THE HAUNTED SEA (1961)

      Another icon of the movie industry who hasn’t let age slow him down is Roger Corman. Since he turned 90 in 2016, he’s produced five films, and has another planned. Since 1954, Corman has had producing credit on over 500 films, according to IMDb (and that’s just the ones he was willing to put him name on.)

      He claims to have never lost money on a film and stories of his economical shooting schedules are legendary (“The Little Shop of Horrors,” which spawned a popular Broadway musical years later, was shot in three days.)

    At the start of his career, Corman was also a director, highlighted by his series of Edgar Allan Poe adaptations along with “The Wild Angels,” “The Trip’ and “The St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.”

    I recently revisited two 1961 pictures Corman directed: one a first-rate horror flick and the other a schlocky, tongue-in-check monster movie. 

    The script for “The Pit and the Pendulum” by Richard Matheson, one of the finest science fiction novelists and a prolific writer of television scripts, bears little resemblance to the Poe story.  Other than the title torture chamber and the connection to the Spanish inquisition, the Baltimore bard wouldn’t recognize his work. But the spirit of Poe is in every frame of Corman’s film.

     John Kerr (“Tea and Sympathy,” “South Pacific”) plays Francis Barnard, an English nobleman who has travelled to Spain to discover why his young sister (Barbara Steele)

recently died. After he arrives at the castle of her widower Nicholas (an especially lugubrious Vincent Price), Barnard struggles to get a straight story from either Nicholas, his sister Catherine (Luana Anders) or the attending physician (Antony Carbone).

     Eventually, spurred by bizarre occurrences in the clearly haunted castle, Barnard and the audience learn that Nicholas’ father was a torturer during the inquisition (the film is set in the 1500s) and murdered his wife by entombing her alive. You might say this left young Nicholas a psychological mess.

    Corman makes great use of the castle’s labyrinth of stairs, hallways and passages, which all seems to lead the characters toward their darkest fears. His flashback scenes are particularly effective, shot in a hazy blue tint that looks like lost footage from a German silent.

     Price mugs his way through the role—he’s always on the verge of throwing himself on the floor in a fit---but Kerr’s and Carbone’s straightforward readings make for a nice contrast to the macabre setting.

      Anders, who plays Price’s sister, was a longtime friend of Jack Nicholson and Robert Towne (both Corman protégés), later showing up in small roles in “The Last Detail,” “Shampoo,” “The Missouri Breaks,” “Personal Best” and “The Two Jakes,” among many others.

    Then there’s “Creature from the Haunted Sea,” which looks like it was made on a shoestring budget and clearly for a laugh. Charles B. Griffith, who also wrote “Little Shop of Horrors,” fills the script with oddball lines and sarcasm in a haphazard story about a mobster who plans to steal a cache of gold from Cuban exiles. Carbone is the star this time, playing a Bogart-like tough guy who assembles a motley crew (including a young man who only speaks by imitating animal sounds) to divert the gold to a small island near Puerto Rico.

    Getting most of the comic lines is Edward Wain as Sparks Moran, an American spy amongst the crew who foolishly falls for the femme fatale (Betsy Jones-Moreland). Turns out Wain is actually Robert Towne, future acclaimed writer-director, who, I suspect, had a hand in the script.

    Best of all is the sea monster of the title, which looks like the neglected cousin of one of the Banana Splits; its bulging rubber eyeballs are the highlight of the film.

    Once those who haven’t been eaten by the monster make it to the island, the film gets nuttier, as two of the crew and Moran fall for native women. It makes an episode of “Gilligan’s Island” play like Chekhov. 

    Thankfully, “Creature from the Haunted Sea” is just an hour, the perfect opening bill for a night at the drive-in, Corman style.

  

THE MANY SAINTS OF NEWARK (2021)

     I’m not sure how to categorize this “origin” story of Tony Soprano, which presents a glimpse of the world he grew up in and, apparently, made him the man he was in the celebrated HBO series “The Sopranos.”

    I’ll admit that I’ve only seen a half dozen episodes of the series, so I really only know what I’ve read about it (which was a bunch considering that during the 2000s it seemed to be the only cable show anyone wrote about). Yet, I am not the target audience for this film, but as a fan of mob films I expected to find something worth my time. I didn’t.

    This prequel, which probably should have been a directed-to-DVD extra on an anniversary package of the series, moves at a snail’s pace as it jumps between one character and another with little exposition to guide unschooled viewers.

    At the center of the film isn’t young Anthony (it mostly covers his teen years when he’s played by Michael Gandolfini, son of James), but his favorite uncle, Dickie (Alessandro Nivola). The exposition is so lacking that it was 20 minutes into the film before I realized he wasn’t Anthony’s father.

     Dickie comes off as a reluctant mobster who seems more likely to manage a shoe store or work as the unwitting mob accountant. Nivola has been a serviceable supporting player for years, but proves to be a poor choice to carry this film.

    Along with all the Italian family squabbles, the film tries to show the connection between the mob and African American drug dealers. But the storyline feels tacked on; creator David Chase’s attempt to be inclusive. For a much better look at the Mafia’s rife relationship with Blacks, see EPIX TV’s excellent “Godfather of Harlem,” with Forest Whitaker as notorious 1960s crime lord Bumpy Johnson.

    In “The Many Saints,” the most compelling moments are provided by a snarling Ray Liotta playing Dickie’s father, and then later, as the man’s brother who is serving a life sentence in the pen. While it was a bit heavy-handed to have Liotta play both parts, his performances were all that offered a flicker of energy.

     For “Soprano” fans, it will probably be cool to see younger versions of Junior Soprano (Corey Stoll), Silvio Dante (John Magaro) and Tony’s mother Livia (Vera Famiga), but they left little impression on this unschooled viewer.

  

THE EYES OF TAMMY FAYE (2021)

    Anyone who lived through the 1980s and 90s could not avoid hearing about Tammy Faye Bakker, the flamboyant wife of televangelist Jim Bakker.  You didn’t need to be a disciple of the Bakkers (of which, sadly, there were many) to see the needy desperation that radiated from Tammy Faye in every public appearance.

    These sentiments, along with her child-like enthusiasm, dominate Jessica Chastain’s none-to-subtle portrayal in this overly straightforward bio-pic. Andrew Garfield plays Bakker as a weaselly conman just waiting to be uncovered.

     Directed by Michael Showalter based on the 2000 documentary of the same name, “Eyes” chronicles their rise from newlyweds tossed out of seminary school to ambitious members of an evangelist troupe led by Jerry Falwell (a surly Vincent D’Onofrio), the godfather of television preaching/moneymaking.

   Tammy’s main contribution at the start of their career was as a puppeteer and neglected wife, but her personality clearly helps the pair rise in the world of Christian TV. Soon they are living the high-life in an extravagant mansion.

    I was expecting (always a bad idea) the film to approach this story with comic sarcasm, baring the irony of these amoral criminals making millions by selling the teachings of Jesus. But Showalter, who previously directed the very funny “The Big Sick,” apparently believed that the details of the Bakkers’ rise and fall was interesting enough to carry the film. It isn’t. Without an exceptional actress like Chastain at the center this film would be a bad made-for-TV docudrama.

 

 

Photos:

Bill Murray and Jeffrey Wright in “The French Dispatch” (Searchlight Pictures)

Daniel Craig and Ana de Armas in “No Time to Die” (MGM)

Vincent Price in “The Pit and the Pendulum” (American International)