Sunday, February 28, 2021

January-February 2021

 


THE MIDNIGHT SKY (2020)

      This exceptional sci-fi film set in the near future starts about 50 pages past where most scripts would have launched this story. The evacuation of a research center near the Arctic Circle is underway because of some type of cataclysmic event occurring across the globe. This apocalypse remains unexplained, except that it was inevitable and leaves little hope for mankind.

      George Clooney, aged by a decade or so, plays Augustine Lofthouse, a senior scientist at the center, whose health is already precarious, stays behind, alone to await the end until he discovers a little girl left behind. Though she doesn’t speak, she becomes his shadow, even when he ventures out into the freezing tundra, stunningly photographed by Martin Ruhe, to adjust a remote antenna, which he hopes to use to communicate with an international space probe.

      We first see the ship’s crew, led by Sully (Felicity Jones) and Adewole (David Oyelowo), as they explore a moon of Jupiter, appraising it for possible human habitat in anticipation of Earth’s environmental breakdown. As they start the return trip, little do they know, because they can’t connect to Earth, that they are headed for a dying planet. In his Arctic station, Augustine realizes that if he doesn’t intercede, they are doomed.

     There’s plenty in co-writer Mark L. Smith’s script (he co-wrote “The Revenant”), based on Lily Brooks-Dalton’s novel, that most movie fans has seen many times—dangerous space walks, struggles with inter-space communication, self-sacrifice of a space crew, the heart-tugging connection between space explorers and those left behind—but Clooney, who also directs, keeps the melodrama to a minimum. Like so many recent sci-fi adventures (“Gravity,” “Interstellar,” “Arrival,” “The Martian”), the actors rarely slip out of their “we’re here to do a job” mode.

     Sporting a full, white beard, a sort of Walt Whitman of scientists, Clooney gives one of his best performances as this laconic researcher who—shown in flashbacks—has passed on personal happiness for his career. Making the connection with the space crew means more to him than even he realizes.

     Including the little girl (intently played 7-year-old Caoilinn Springall in her film debut), makes Augustine that much more interesting, allowing him to reflect on his family connections as he roams the deserted station.

    “The Midnight Sky” is Clooney sixth film as a director and nearly equal to his best, the very different, “Good Night, and Good Luck” (2005), about Edward R. Murrow’s TV confrontation with Joe McCarthy. What director Clooney does best is elicit first rate ensemble performances; “Good Night” boast one of the best casts in the past 20 years while the underrated “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind” (2002) shows Sam Rockwell at his best along with a half-dozen priceless supporting roles. He assembles an equally impression group for his new film.

       While “The Midnight Sky” often plays like a sci-fi greatest hits collection, the matter-of-fact presentation of “the end” and the film’s final act reveals make for compelling cinema.

  

TENET (2020)

    As usual, Christopher Nolan wants audiences to think very, very hard while they are being entertained by his movie. An admirable trait, but this time, I’m not sure it’s worth the effort.

    With this big-budget actioner, the director of “Inception” and “Interstellar,” aims to add a James Bond-”Mission: Impossible” type picture to his resume, but, of course, with the added element of the supernational, complete with detailed scientific explanations that make it sound as real as gravity.

     In “Tenet,” it is the discovery of the ability for objects and humans to move in reverse. I never determined why this was something of any value, or any danger, but I admit I didn’t try very hard. But, apparently, it spells the end of civilization.

     The reason to watch “Tenet” isn’t for Nolan’s complicated plotting, but for John David Washington’s performance as a nameless American intelligence agent tasked with finding the source of this backwards threat.

    The movie opens with a somewhat pointless (not unlike many Bond openings) but superbly orchestrated scene of a military attack on a crowded concert hall in Kiev. Washington is part of a counter-military force, his heroic actions earning him a step up in the international intelligence world.

     He soon is looking dapper, arriving at a posh restaurant to meet a highly placed British agent, played by Nolan’s go-to old guy, Michael Caine. The most engaging scene in the film as Caine plays the arrogant Brit to perfection, suggesting that the American might want to replace his Brooks Brothers suit that “won’t cut it” in the high-stakes society he’s bound for.

      Our hero is paired up with another agent, Neil (not sure why he has a name), played by Robert Pattinson as if he’s part of an “Ocean’s 11” cast. 

    Once established that he needs to meet Andrei Sator, a maniacal Russian played with seething gusto by Kenneth Branagh (the star of Nolan’s “Dunkirk”), Washington’s spy finds a way to cozy up to Sator’s tall, aloof blonde wife Kat (Elizabeth Debicki) who’s an art dealer.

    Nolan’s dialogue is snappy and shallow and virtually pointless.

      While not as good as most editions of “Mission: Impossible” and only slightly smarter than most Bonds, “Tenet” provides a fun ride around the world, from set piece to set piece (strikingly shot by Hoyte van Hoytema). But its central idea seems more suited to a Marvel superhero film rather than a serious Christopher Nolan picture.

  

A RAINY DAY IN NEW YORK (2020)

    As of late, any discussion of Woody Allen focuses not on his films but on claims by his 35-year-old daughter and her mother Mia Farrow that the filmmaker molested the girl when she was seven. Since they were dismissed by the courts in the 1990s, Allen has continued to deny the charges as he has raised his own family with his wife of 23 years, Soon-Yi Previn.

    Since the #MeToo movement began, Farrow and journalist son Ronan have revived the charges in an attempt to have Allen blackballed from the film world. (Now in the form of an HBO documentary.) In many ways, they have succeeded, as Amazon dropped a distribution deal with Allen, essential blocking “Rainy Day” from an American release for nearly two years.

     Ironically, I was able to see the film by purchasing it on, you guessed it, Amazon.com.  While it’s not among Allen’s best, it’s an entertaining light comedy with a good script that should have played better than it does.

     Any story contained in a single day has an automatic appeal—no matter how mundane (and this is far from that); sharing a full day of experiences of someone inevitably holds viewers’ interest. On top of that, “Rainy Day” offers a tour of some of the city’s most entrancing locales.

     Gatsby (Timothée Chalamet) and Ashleigh (Elle Fanning) are a college couple spending a weekend in Manhattan that goes array when they become separated during their first day there. Ashleigh, a journalism student, has arranged an interview with her favorite director, the brooding Roland Pollard (Liv Schreiber), who confides in her that he’s ready to quit the business.

     When the film stays on Ashleigh’s “Alice in Wonderland” wild ride—Pollard invites her to a screening of his new movie (which he hates); she accompanies screenwriter Ted (Jude Law) when he spots his wife (Rebecca Hall) cheating on him and then ends up at dinner with movie star Francisco Vega (Diego Luna)—it’s a joy.  Fanning is perfect as the hyperventilating college student who can’t imagine why these famous men all find her alluring while never forgetting her role as a journalist trying to get a good story.

     Unfortunately, too much of the film follows New York native Gatsby (his pretentious name is never questioned by anyone in the film) and his dreary day, as he sees high school friends and reconnects with an old girlfriend’s younger sister (Selena Gomez). Chalamet and Gomez, both disastrously miscast, provide so little energy that the movie virtually comes to a halt whenever they’re on screen.

       This isn’t the first recent Allen film that has been marred by bad casting and clunky acting: “Anything Else,” “Whatever Works,” “Curse of the Jade Scorpion,” “Café Society” and “Wonder Wheel” all had similar problems.

      Chalamet, the critically acclaimed 25-year-old who scored an Oscar nomination for “Call Me by Your Name” (2017), rarely escapes the character’s self-possessed pose. Most of the time Chalamet acts more like a middle schooler than a college kid, even though the character is written as a street-smart young man who loves to gamble and play the piano. He seems to be giving no effort in his line readings.

          Even worse is Gomez, who comes off as a nervous newcomer trying to be cool even though she’s been acting since she’s been a kid. (She held her own in last year’s “The Dead Don’t Die”).

      Schreiber and Luna are especially good, working hard to represent self-centered Hollywood types, but it’s Cherry Jones, playing Gatsby’s elitist mother, who delivers the film’s best monologue, a devastating admission played with calm precision by this superb actress.

    For the umpteenth time, Allen offers a wonderful tour of some of the city’s coolest locations, including Carlyle Hotel (and its famous piano bar), the Plaza Athénée, Minetta Tavern in Greenwich Village, the Met, Central Park and the Kaufman-Astoria Studios, where New York movies have been shot for 50 years. Maybe the best line in the film is when Gatsby laments his girlfriend’s absence: “…the city has its own agenda.”

     Despite the unrelenting campaign against him, the 85-year-old writer-director refuses to go quietly into retirement. He’s completed another film, “Rifkin’s Festival,” starring his old friend Wallace Shawn, which has opened in Europe. Here’s hoping that I don’t have to book an overseas flight to see it.  

 

HOLLYWOOD PARTY (1934)

      Before television, movie studios often released pictures that were essentially variety shows, primarily for the purpose of publicizing it stars.

    MGM was the king of these promotional motion pictures and this odd-ball collection of comedy bits, celebrity walk-ons and impressive set design is one of the more entertaining from the studio.

    Jimmy Durante, a comedian-singer with a distinguishing large nose (he was known as “The Schnoz”) stars as a fictional version of himself whose movie franchise, the Tarzan-spoofing “Schnaran the Conqueror” needs a box-office boost.

     The trailer for the next installment runs in a packed theater after a Garbo picture and the reaction is, shall we say, less than positive. (Though the clump of fake hair pasted on Durante’s bare chest should have earned a few chuckles.),

       To solve the problem, his producers suggest attempting to purchase a real-life lion (rather than have Durante wrestling with the fake one they’ve been using in his jungle battles). Coincidentally, a “lion baron” (who knew?) was planning to attend the big party Durante is throwing that night.

      But enough about the idiotic “plot” that is taking aim at MGM’s own Tarzan films with Johnny Weissmuller. The stars that parade through the picture include Charles Butterworth, Eddie Quillan, June Clyde, Lupe Velez (not exactly household names today) and Laurel and Hardy. Though it is meant to be the comic centerpiece of the picture, an egg-cracking sequence between the comic duo and Velez hasn’t aged well. (But I’ve never found much in the Laurel and Hardy playbook very funny.)

     Legendary MGM set designer Edwin B. Willis turns Durante “house” into a mansion worthy of Gatsby, all beautifully photographed by James Wong Howe. Astonishingly, the orchestra is situated on the side of what must be a 40-foot wall, each musician sitting on an individual shelf attached to the wall. 

     But the real highlights of the film come from unlikely guests: Mickey Mouse and the Three Stooges.

     The color cartoon, jumping out of this black and white film, is an innovative Disney musical short, “Hot Choc-late Soldiers” in which a troop of gingerbread men go to war. Mickey introduces the cartoon in an exchange with Durante.

     Moe, Larry and Curley show up as autograph hounds who mistake one of a group of scientists for Clark Gable. The scientists take the time to study Curley’s head (who hasn’t?), quickly identifying the trio as Neanderthals, bopping each of them on the head to listen to the sound. The look on the Stooges’ faces as they become experiments in the middle of a party is priceless—who ever dared dismissed them as actors?

     Maybe the biggest stars connected to the film are the gallery of filmmakers who took part: Richard Boleslawski, Allan Dwan, Edmund Goulding, George Stevens and Sam Wood, all among the top directors of the day.  And how about this lineup of composers: Arthur Freed, Lorenz Hart, Richard Rodgers and Nacio Herb Brown.

     The party closes when a lion is released—I think Laurel is the culprit—sending the over-dressed guesting running chaotically. All this in 68 minutes.

  

MA RAINEY’S BLACK BOTTOM (2020)

    This adaptation of August Wilson’s 1984 stage drama plays like the preface of a bigger, more involving story or maybe a sketch that he planned to insert into another work.

     I’m not sure if this film adaptation, scripted by veteran writer Ruben Santiago-Hudson and directed by George C. Wolfe, is trimmed from the original, but all that’s really left is a superb acting workout as group of musicians offer their view of surviving in a racist society.

     The story takes place during a Chicago recording session for blues singer Gertrude “Ma” Rainey (known as the “Mother of the Blues”), who along with Bessie Smith, remains the best remembered blues shouter of the 1920s and early 1930s. This legendary tough performer makes endless, often arbitrary and petty, demands of her white record producers, using her popularity to exert herself as a black woman with power.

     The primary dispute involves her demand to have an old-fashioned intro spoken by her nephew, who stutters. The young, outspoken trumpeter in her backup band Levee (Chadwick Boseman in his final performance) finds it especially foolish as he images the band moving away from classic blues and into jazz (he’s clearly under the influence of the genre-altering playing of Louis Armstrong).

     Central to the film is the intense debate between the musicians as they rehearse in the backroom. It is a fine ensemble, led by Glynn Turman as Toledo, the pianist, and featuring Colman Domingo as trombonist Cutler, Michael Potts as bassist Slow Drag and Boseman. Everyone has their moments, but it’s Boseman who burns up the screen in the most charismatic role of his short career.

     Working in television since 2006, the actor had his movie breakthrough playing baseball legend Jackie Robinson in “42” (2013) and then hit his stride with his incendiary performance as R&B singer James Brown in “Get on Up” (2014). Best known as the fearless Black Panther in the Marvel film of the same name, he also gave solid performances as a cop in “21 Bridges” and future Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall in “Marshall” (2017). He was 43 when he died last August of colon cancer.

    It seems inevitable, and deserved, that the late actor will be awarded the Oscar for this performance.

    I was less impressed with Viola Davis’ over-the-top impersonation of Rainey. While Ma had a reputation of being a mean, domineering woman, the play presents her a completely unlikeable, close to unbearable and Davis’ performance brings little nuance to this gifted singer.

     What “Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom” (the title comes from the song they are recording) does best is show the central place music held in the African American community, serving as a safe refuge from the harsh realities of Jim Crow America. 

  

PIECES OF A WOMAN (2020)

    Sometimes, all you need is a great performance. That would be my argument for this film starring Vanessa Kirby as a woman coping with the loss of her baby during childbirth.

    As Martha, she sustains her grief over the course of the movie, for stretches virtually unspoken sadness, compelling one to watch even when the script seems more concerned with the responses by her partner (Shia LaBeouf) and mother (the magnificent Ellen Burstyn). This kind of emotionally intense role doesn’t show up in Hollywood films very often, thus it’s not surprising it was made by Hungarian filmmakers, director Kornél Mundruczó and writer Kata Wéber.

    The first act of the picture offers Martha’s excruciating home delivery aided by Eva (Molly Parker), who is filling in because the couple’s chosen midwife is unavailable when Martha’s time arrives. At times hard to watch, the sequence has the vivid immediacy of a documentary, which makes the heartbreaking results that much more impactful.

    In the aftermath, the Boston prosecutor brings charges against Eva, encouraged by the infant’s father, who can’t accept Martha’s outwardly passive reaction to the tragedy. Even more determined to see the midwife punished is Eva’s controlling mother, who never stops flaunting her wealth and moral superiority as she treats her grown daughter like a child.

     The movie loses its steam when it enters the courtroom and we’re expected to take the melodrama of this story as seriously as we have Martha’s emotional journey. The script never offers enough substance to make the court case believable—it’s nothing more than an excuse to fix blame for a terrible tragedy.

     This character deserved a better film, but Kirby, who played Princess Margaret in the TV series “The Crown” and the White Widow, a reluctant ally of Nathan Hunt in the most recent “Mission: Impossible,” shows herself to be an actress of impressive depth and subtlety. In many ways, her work her reminded me of the great performances her movie mother Burstyn gave in the 1970s. Both women deserve Oscar nominations for their performances.  

 

NEVER RARELY SOMETIMES ALWAYS (2020)

     There have been dozens of films about the travails of teenage pregnancy over the years, most determined to preach and vilify the girl.

     This new indie picture avoids that pitfall, presenting a moody, depressed teenager forced to travel to New York City from the rural central Pennsylvania town to have an abortion.

      Angst-ridden Autumn, perfectly captured by Sidney Flanigan in her debut, accompanied by her more upbeat cousin Skylar (an equally impressive Talia Ryder) slip out of town barely noticed by her self-indulgent parents and hop a bus to NYC. There they face the complex hurdles of arranging to end Autumn’s pregnancy, not to mention the severe limits of their finances.

   Unable to afford a hotel, they roam the streets and all-night joints of the city during their three-day adventure. The journey—always more important than the destination—takes on the many compromised and challenges that face a modern teenage girl. Any viewer, especially an adult, will watch this documentary-like picture with constant fear that the worse is about to happen to these young girls alone in the city.

    Yet what they experience is no worse than the world of a suburban high school as the girls approach their situation with an assumption that they will somehow get through it. It’s Skylar, the prettier and more social of the two, who has already learned how to use the male gaze to her advantage, even as Autumn disapproves.

    The film takes its title from a memorable scene in which a health worker asks Autumn a series of questions about her relationships that require an answer of “never, rarely, sometimes or always.” It’s then that the unemotional Autumn finally faces her reality.

    Written and directed by Eliza Hittman, who directed a pair of episodes of the teen-problem themed Netflix series “13 Reasons Why,” brings a keen ear for how teens talk and insight into how they interact with the world—a rarity in Hollywood.

 

Friday, December 25, 2020

November-December 2020

 

MANK (2020)

     In summer of 1939, RKO gave 23-year-old Orson Welles carte blanche to star and direct his first movie. For a script, the young radio and Broadway star, after failed attempts to adapt “Heart of Darkness,” turned to Hollywood veteran Herman Mankiewicz, supreme wit, hopeless alcoholic and, like Welles, a liberal in an industry run by conservatives.

      The result, needless to say, is one of the finest screenplays ever penned, turned by Welles into Hollywood’s greatest motion picture, “Citizen Kane.”

      David Fincher, best known for “The Social Network” and “Seven,” turns this storied and controversial conception of a masterpiece into an unwieldy, over-heated, stagy picture filled with caricatures rather than people and well-worn anecdotes rather than plot.

     This high-priced vanity project, from a script written years ago by the director’s late father, Jack Fincher, offers little of interest to anyone who isn’t schooled in 1930s Hollywood, doesn’t know who William Randolph Hearst and Marion Davies were or cannot appreciate the silvery beauty of black and white cinema.

     Objectively, it’s not a very successful film, but watching it subjectively, I was thoroughly entertained; it manages to both sentimentalize the era and offer a cynical insider’s view of the studio system through the writer’s eyes.

     Shining brightly amid the cacophony of this production is British actor Gary Oldman, who plays Mankiewicz, or Mank as everyone calls him, as a wonderfully entertaining character, a world-class raconteur even as he’s bedridden (after a car accident) and absconded at a remove Victorville ranch while writing the script.

      As we see in the constant flashbacks, Mankiewicz is tapping into his close friendship with Davies and his knowledge of Hearst’s public and private life to create Charles Foster Kane.

      Oldman, whose career has recent resurged with performances as master spy George Smiley in “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy” and, winning the Oscar, as Churchill in “Darkest Hour,” plays him as a more mature Joe Orton (the radical playwright he played in “Prick Up Your Ears” in 1987), constantly punching holes in egotistical executives, getting away with openly insulting them because he’s a valuable writer.

     The real antagonist of the film, ironically, isn’t newspaper publisher Hearst (a quietly intimidating Charles Dance) but his good friend and frequent visitor to Sam Simeon, Louis B. Mayer (Arliss Howard, unrecognizable). The MGM mogul is portrayed as a thoroughly unpleasant man who cares about nothing but maintaining his power to make money.

      Maybe he was—I’ve never read a story about Mayer that portrayed him in a positive light—but, typical of most of the characters in the film, he comes off as a cartoon version of the man. Even though most viewers have no knowledge of these people, the actors seem to be doing imitations as the script offers little more than quips.

    Amanda Seyfried as actress Davies has some nice moments, especially when she meets with Mank after she has read the script, a portrayal that has Hollywood buzzing. Even Mank’s more sensible younger brother Joseph (who went on to director “All About Eve” and many other acclaimed films) is shocked that Davies counterpart in the script, opera singer Susan Alexander, is painted as a shrill and talentless burden to Kane.

     Though I’ve read extensively about “Citizen Kane,” I did not realize, before seeing “Mank,” that Mankiewicz had spent so much time with Davies and Hearst and the closeness of his friendship with Davies. But I’m also assuming that the script is hewing close to the truth, including a hart-to-believe scene at Sam Simeon in which a drunken Mankiewicz unmercifully tears into Hearst at a large dinner party.

      For most of the picture, Welles (Tom Burke) is but a voice on the phone, berating producer John Houseman (Sam Troughton) or questioning Mank on his progress on the script. But when he finally arrives in Victorville—after Mankiewicz has completed the script he calls “American”—he comes off as a spoiled child, demanding that the screenwriter stick to the original contract and not ask for screen credit. Welles lost that fight and they received co-writing credit for the film. The script earned the acclaimed film its only Oscar.

      For Mankiewicz, this script was the pinnacle of career that was mostly spent as a writer of comedies and rewrite man for various studios from 1926 until his death, of a heart attack, in 1953 at the age of 56.

     One of the film’s biggest missteps is the subplot chronicling journalist and socialist Upton Sinclair’s run for California governor in 1934, which confirms Mank’s hatred for Mayer and Hearst as they plot to destroy his candidacy. We’re meant to see the pure evil of these power brokers, but truthfully Sinclair’s well-meaning candidacy was doomed from the start and the political maneuverings involved seems pretty tame by 2020 standards.

      Another aspect of this film that will be appreciated by film aficionados is the theory that Mankiewicz was the sole author of the acclaimed script—most famously argued by critic Pauline Kael in the 1970s—without much input from Welles. Because of “Kane’s” importance, it remains a contentious dispute.

     The film also serves as a reminder of why so many films from that era stand up 80 years later: in an early scene, Mankiewicz walks into an MGM writers’ room and introduces Charles Lederer (coincidentally Davies’ nephew) to Ben Hecht, Charles MacArthur, George S. Kaufman and Sid Perelman. At the same time, Billy Wilder, Preston Sturges and Mank’s brother Joe were a Paramount; John Huston and Jerry Wald were writing for Warner Bros.

       “Mank” could have used some polish of the type these pros did for thousands of scripts during the Golden Era, but for the handful of movie fans still around who relished that era, this movie isn’t to be missed.


HAMILTON (2020)

      I can’t remember any production—film, television or stage—in the past 30 years that has been showered with such universal acclaim as this Broadway musical. Overnight, Lin-Manuel Miranda was heralded as a theatrical innovator, an acclaimed triple threat as a writer, actor and singer.

     Though I’d seen endless interviews with the charismatic Miranda since “Hamilton” debuted in 2015 and knew the bullet points that made it so special (a hip-hop score, multiracial cast, a fresh look at a Founding Father), I was still surprised when I finally experienced the musical, as the filmed version of the original Broadway show.

    Not only did I find the lyrics and plot pedantically dull, but the all-singing script does little more than offer a Power Point version of the American Revolution and the first years of the nation, with emphasis on the role of Alexander Hamilton.

    But, to get right to the most baffling aspect of the production, I never could figure out the point of the racially incorrect casting. What statement is Miranda making by casting African American actors as Aaron Burr, Thomas Jefferson and George Washington, among others?

      If these were fictional characters I would fully support racially blind casting—it’s the only way actors of color are ever going to achieve equality in theater and film. But I cannot buy a black Gen. Washington unless you are trying to make a point. 

     I’m all for a black Macbeth, an Asian Willy Loman or a Latino Maggie the Cat, but the author better have something to say if he casts a Chinese actor as FDR or a black man as JFK. As far as I could discern, Miranda doesn’t. It’s all a stunt: it’s cool and, on its surface, progressive. but nothing more.

        I somewhat see why he cast himself as Hamilton, an immigrant, like Miranda, who moved to New York. But the outsider role doesn’t fit for Alexander, who found a spot as Washington’s righthand man during the war and became the nation’s first secretary of the treasury.

       There’s also the problem of Miranda’s acting. This is an epic musical about a politician, with few set changes or much in the way of spectacle. (In fact, the sets looked like something from a spare drama rather than a high-energy musical.) It demands a bigger-than-life performance and Miranda doesn’t deliver. He seems like a supporting performer in his own story.

   Diminishing Miranda’s presence is the excellent work by others in the cast, including Daveed Diggs as both Lafayette and Jefferson (again, why?), Phillipa Soo as Hamilton’s long suffering wife Eliza, Leslie Odom Jr. as a conniving Burr and Jonathan Groff as a comical King George.

      I know this will sound ridiculous, but I was more impressed with a high school production of Miranda’s earlier musical, “In the Heights,” finding it ten times more entertaining than his 11 Tony Award-winning megahit. To my ears, the score to “Hamilton” wasn’t near as catchy or heartfelt as “In the Heights” and its more expansive dance numbers didn’t come close to making up for its musical lackings.

       I will stay clear of taking on the “facts” of the musical’s book; it clearly plays fast and loose with the details and conveniently turns Jefferson into a “johnny come lately” to the nation’s birth (yes, the guy who wrote the Declaration of Independence). But even within the musical, Miranda does a poor job of defining the central relationship between Hamilton and Burr, whose duel is the predictable climax.

     I’m not expert on the politics of the early days of the nation, yet I didn’t learn anything from “Hamilton.” The idea that this musical resurrected a neglected founder seem way overplayed—isn’t this the same guy whose picture has been in everyone’s wallet for almost 100 years? 

      The upside is that watching the filmed version saved me many “Hamiltons” that I was planning to shell out to see the musical live when it returned to Los Angeles after the pandemic. Instead, I’m looking forward to the film version of “In the Heights.”

 

 

THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7 (2020)

       One of the great legacies of the 1960s and ‘70s is the many protests marches, sit-ins and other public demonstrations against government policies. In the tragic year of 1968, the growing discontent over the Vietnam War culminated in a gathering of high-profile activists in Chicago for the Democratic National Convention.

     The resulting overreaction by the police against the demonstrations overshadowed the nomination of Hubert Humphrey as the media turned its camera across the street to Lincoln Park.

      Almost a year later, after Richard Nixon took office, the justice department decided to make an example of the leaders whose groups were in Chicago, bringing conspiracy charges against eight prominent leaders of activist organizations. (The case against Black Panther co-founder Bobby Seale was dropped mid-trial, making it seven.)

      The circus-like trial of these men is the subject of the latest film by writer-director Aaron Sorkin, acclaimed screenwriter of “Charlie Wilson’s War,” “The Social Network” and “Moneyball” who made his directorial debut with “Molly’s Game” (2017).

     Both educational and entertaining, this slickly structured and well-written history serves as the perfect metaphor for the clash of the establishment and the provocateurs who felt it was time for a sea change.

     The self-appointed front man of the group is Tom Hayden, leader of the Students for a Democratic Society, based in Berkeley, and portrayed by Oscar-winning Brit Eddie Redmayne as a man with an air of entitlement and, to the dismay of his colleagues, a willingness to compromise. Hayden, who later was a longtime California legislator and husband of actress-activist Jane Fonda, works in concert with famed leftwing attorney William Kunstler (Mark Rylance) to knock down the government’s case.

    Yet the other defendants, especially the incorrigibly rebellious Abbie Hoffman (Sacha Baron Cohen), leader of the Yippies who delivers biting sarcasm in and out of court, don’t always cooperate with the plans.

    The film is strongest when this all-star collection of social movers and shakers, living together during the trial, debate the best way to change what they all believe is a broken system. It’s a discussion that seems to have found new oxygen in 2020.  

     Cohen, whose own films I have little interest in, steals every scene he’s in as Hoffman, a legendary disrupter and the smartest guy in the room. Rylance, the great British stage actor, gives another superb performance, as does Joseph Gordon-Levitt as the young government prosecutor, who isn’t sure which side he should be on.

    Reigning over it all is the foolish, out-of-touch Nixon stand-in Judge Julius Hoffman, wonderfully played by Frank Langella.

    While occasionally the film slips into caricature, especially in John Doman’s raving performance as Attorney General John Mitchell, Sorkin does a good job of creating real people and making this 50-year-old trial relevant.

 

 

I’M THINKING OF ENDING THINGS (2020)

      No Hollywood writer in recent years has gone further in exploring the deepest recesses of the human brain and our never-ending search for a place in the world than Charlie Kaufman. His thoughtful but confused characters deliver dryly sarcastic, half-serious dialogue in a world gone surreal as they push the rock up that damnable hill with Sisyphus.

     His best, “Being John Malkovich” (1999), “Adaptation.” (2002), “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind” (2002), “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” (2004) and “Synecdoche, New York” (2008)—which he also directed—were the most daringly original and outlandishly entertaining films of the first decade of the century.   

      Yet his latest, released on Netflix, left me scratching my head; not only did his point escape me but it was about as an entertaining as a Halllmark Christmas movie. Not unlike his stop-action, Claymation-like 2015 picture, “Anomalisa,” “I’m Thinking of Ending Things” tries to capture the quirky, somewhat random reality of contemporary relationships.

      We first meet the 20something couple, played by Jessie Buckley and Jesse Plemons (coincidence that this couple is played by actors with the virtual same first name?) as he drives them to his parents’ home for dinner. During the drive, while college professor Jake, trying to impress, goes on about a variety of topics, the audience hears the young woman’s thoughts (she’s given no name) on the tentative state of their relationship.

     It’s clear Kaufman has steered us into his “twilight zone” when the parents (Toni Collette and David Thewlis) let them wait downstairs for what seems like hours before finally greet them. At dinner, the conversation is odd, but just close enough to the uncomfortable chit-chat we’ve all engaged in during similar circumstances. Yet the girlfriend doesn’t seem to notice the horror-film atmosphere of the family home, even after the parents age about 30 years after dinner. Time does fly, but then, suddenly, they are middle-aged again.

     At this point, Kaufman is just getting warmed up.  When they finally leave (escape, really) the parents’ house, instead of heading home, Jake drives to the local high school where his girlfriend meets what seems to be his older doppelganger—the school janitor—and then watches a pair of ballet dancers performing. The last 30 minutes plays like a grad school student’s attempt at a David Lynch film.

     We’d need to be inside Kaufman’s head (“Being Charlie Kaufman”?) to decipher this metaphorical mess. Buckley, who played Judy Garland’s assistant in “Judy,” and Plemons, memorable as the lonely neighbor in “Game Night,” seem totally committed to characters stuck in a surreal world, but I don’t think they understood what the hell Kaufman was getting at any more than I did.

 

 

TARGET ZERO (1955)

    For about 10 years, starting in the mid-1940s, Richard Conte was one of the most interesting actors in Hollywood, playing mostly cold-hearted criminals. But he was just as convincing as a working stiff battling a corrupt system or a hard-nosed soldier.

    In a series of film noirs, including “Cry of the City” (1948) “Thieves Highway” (1949), “The Blue Gardenia” (1953), “Highway Dragnet” (1954) and, at his best as the ruthless Mr. Brown, in “The Big Combo” (1955), he established himself as a mainstay of the genre, an actor who always made the least of his films better.  This intense performer, discovered by Elia Kazan and John Garfield while serving as a singing waiter, worked on Broadway before scoring a supporting role in the World War II hit, “Guadalcanal Diary” (1943).

     Before his career moved from movies to television—where he spent most of the late 1950s and 1960s—he starred in this well-made Korean War actioner as Lt. Flagler, whose small patrol unit joins forces with a British tank unit to retake a crucial hillside position against overwhelming odds.

       Along with the usual tension between the Brits and the Americans, this is the rare war film that adds romance into the mix. A U.N. worker, Anne Galloway (Peggie Castle, best known for the TV series “Lawman”), is rescued after her co-worker is killed, just before the Americans enter the picture. The British sergeant (Richard Wyler) has eyes for Anne, but so does Conte’s Flagler.

      Sounds a bit cornball, but it plays out believably as scripted by James Warner Bellah (who later co-wrote “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”) and Sam Rolfe (the creator of “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.”) and directed by veteran film editor Harmon Jones. The picture also features a fine supporting cast, including Charles Bronson, L.Q. Jones and Chuck Connors.

     After playing the police pal of P.I. Frank Sinatra in “Tony Rome” (1967) and “Lady in Cement” (1968), Conte scored his best-known late career role, as Don Barzini, the mafioso rival to the Corleone family in “The Godfather” (1972). Conte fit the role perfectly and might have scored an Oscar nomination if the film hadn’t featured so many memorable performances.

      Though he had often been cast in distinctly Italian-American roles, this one was career defining. He spent much of his remaining life acting in the Italian cinema. Conte died of a heart attack in 1975 at the age of 65.

 

 

FIRST COW (2020)

     Like most of her films, this Kelly Reichardt picture gives minimalists a bad name. Her leisurely paced, sparsely scripted movies have grown less and less interesting over the years.

  As much as I enjoyed “Wendy and Lucy” (2008), about a woman (the always brilliant Michelle Williams) facing hard times with only her loyal dog to count on, I tired of her approach with “Meek’s Cutoff” (2010) and “Certain Women” (2016). 

    In her latest, the unlikely pair of King-lu (Orion Lee), a Chinese drifter, and Cookie (John Magaro), a white cook just recently escaped from a gang of fur trappers, end up as roommates in a small Oregon town in the early part of the 19th Century.

    They cash in when Cookie stars baking a French biscuit that everyone in town can’t get enough of. But the secret ingredient is the fresh milk the men “steal” from the town’s wealthy landowner and his only cow.

    The highlight of the film is the heartfelt relationship Cookie forms with the cow as he sneaks into the barn each night for milking. But you just know this setup isn’t going to end well.

     The script, written by Reichardt and Jonathan Raymond, whose novel it’s based on, adds little of interest to this bare-bones plot. Both men are somewhat fish-out-of-water character, not really suited for the pioneer world of the West, yet they do display the kind of gumption that was to help define the American spirit. 

    My impression of the film was so slight that I couldn’t imagine it gaining any critical traction, even in this one-of-a-kind movie year. Yet it started showing up on Top 10 lists and then was voted best picture by the New York Film Critics Circle.

     At best, it’s a minor slice of 19th Century life, but maybe in 2020 that passes for the year’s top film.

 

 

HARUM SCARUM (1965)

    One of the more foolish traditions I started a few years back is watching at least one Elvis Presley film every year.

     It’s depressing to realize that I’m just a third of the way through (10 of 31). While I remain a fan of Elvis the singer and recognize his importance in 20th Century popular music, with every film I watch it’s more astonishing just how bad of an actor he was. This cartoonish adventure movie is especially lame—even judged by other Elvis films—but what really struck me was Presley’s lack of growth as an actor. This was his 19th film in 10 years, yet he seems utterly clueless as to how to read a line or act naturally in a scene.

      Even an untrained performer (think of Frank Sinatra, Kris Kristofferson, Dolly Parton) develops some skills after numerous times in front of the camera—except the King. Actually, in a few of his earlier films, “Flaming Star” (1960) and “Wild in the Country” (1961) he shows promise, but by the mid-1960s he was just going through the motions.

     You could argue that no actor could have been very inspired by this role, singer-actor Johnny Tyronne. The idiotic plot, slightly less coherent than an episode of “The Monkees,” opens with a roomful of Arab dignitaries watching an action movie starring Tyronne called “Sands of the Desert.” After it ends, Johnny sings for the group as part of this promotional tour.

      Invited to one of the attendee’s country—allured by a beautiful woman, of course—Johnny is kidnapped and forced to participate in an assassination plot. One of the most humorous aspects of the story is that, having seen Tyronne defeat a gang of henchman in the movie, the Arab plotters believe this actor capable of doing the same in real life. Yet it’s never played for a joke: Johnny’s movie marital arts skills are portrayed as a match for any trained killer.

        Not only is Presley especially wooden—even when singing—but he’s surrounded by mediocrity. Mary Ann Mobley, one-time Miss America, playing the king’s daughter and the love interest, seems to be dazed by Elvis’s hair, barely managing to finish her lines. At least she did improve over the years, during a busy television career that last until 2003.

      Michael Ansara, who made a career playing foreign bad guys, offers up the usual cliches as does Billy Barty as a pickpocket. The entire film feels like a first run-through.

      Then there’s the sets, which you’d think would at least be extravagantly lavish to make up for the grade-school level actions scenes and silly plot. Instead, the movie looks like it was shot on a discarded TV set from “Batman.”

        Presley’s film career came to an end in 1969, a year after his acclaimed comeback television special that returned him to his musical kingdom. But I wonder, if he had lived longer (he died in 1977 at age 42) might he have returned to the big screen?

      Probably, especially if manager Col. Tom Parker was still running his business affairs. Can’t you see Elvis in “Police Academy” or as a fight promoter in a “Rocky” movie?  And you just know that Scorsese would have found a role for him in “Casino.” But trust me, no matter what he would have done, he could not have stooped lower than “Harum Scarum.”