Authors Posts by Jeffrey Sanzel

Jeffrey Sanzel

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Florence Pugh and Morgan Freeman in a scene from 'A Good Person' Photo by Jeong Park/MGM

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Zach Braff is best known for his acting work, most notably for his nine seasons as Dr. J.D. Dorian on the sitcom Scrubs. Additionally, his extensive work behind the camera includes producing, writing, and directing. The works encompass short films, television, and, most notably, the feature film Garden State (2004), a quirky but effective rom-com featuring Braff and Natalie Portman. Unfortunately, his follow-up, the domestic comedy-drama Wish I Was Here (2014), was not well-received.

Braff’s third offering, A Good Person, is a drama of dysfunction and addiction. The film opens with Morgan Freeman’s voiceover as he works on his model trains, wistfully proffering the idea that life is neither neat nor tidy. Then, the idyllic moment shifts to the raucous engagement party of Allison (Florence Pugh) and Nathan (Chinaza Uche). Allison sings an original song to her future husband, much to the delight of the guests.

The next morning, Allison drives her future sister-in-law and brother-in-law from New Jersey into New York City. Checking the map app on her phone, Allison involves them in an accident where her prospective in-laws die.

A year later, Florence is an unemployed pharmaceutical rep addicted to pills. She lives in a perpetual state of conflict with her mother, Diane (Molly Shannon), who lacks the insight or emotional resources to help her struggling daughter. Florence has run through her oxy, and none of her doctors will refill her prescription. After a failed attempt to blackmail a former colleague, she ends up in a bar where she smokes with two low-lifes with whom she had gone to high school. Florence has hit bottom.

She attends an AA meeting, running into Daniel (Morgan Freeman), the man who would have been her father-in-law. She leaves, but Daniel stops her, suggesting fate has brought them together. They form an odd bond that becomes a tenuous friendship. 

Retired Daniel was a cop for forty years and a drunk for fifty. Sober ten years, he grapples with raising his orphaned granddaughter, the now rebellious Ryan (Celeste O’Connor). He accepts that he does not know how to raise a teenager, having left that to his wife. The worlds collide as Allison and Ryan accidentally meet at Daniel’s house and also form a strained connection. Ryan shares her late mother’s feelings that Allison was the best thing to happen to her uncle Nathan. Ryan lets slip that her grandfather blames Allison for the accident.

The film is rife with revelations and the sharing of histories. An alcoholic father abused Daniel. In turn, Daniel became a blackout drunk, mistreating his own children. In an inebriated rage, Daniel beat Nathan so severely that the boy lost hearing in his right ear. Estranged, the adult Nathan and Daniel have only the slightest of relationships. 

While the film covers no new territory, the narrative contains the makings of a dramatic and interesting story. Sadly, the gap between intention and execution can be the distance between Perth Amboy and Perth, Australia. 

The film tackles difficult subject matters—guilt, addiction, withdrawal, forgiveness—but somehow manages to avoid depth. Director Braff works from his screenplay, which seems a patchwork of acting class scenes. The occasional smart quip—“the opiate of the masses is opium”—is lost among aphorisms and cliches—“Comparison is the thief of joy.” 

Daniel’s Viet Nam veteran cap is jaw-droppingly unsubtle. In a film brimming with life and death issues, the result is often tensionless and pedestrian. The metaphors—the model trains, Allison’s father’s watch, swimming, songwriting—even a haircut—are heavy-handed. 

However, while Braff the writer might have failed, he cast well and brought out strong performances. Florence Pugh finds the anguish and ugliness in Allison’s spiral. She is mesmerizing rawness in every moment, alternating between a hyper-aware ferocity and a disconnected stupor. Morgan Freeman is incapable of shoddy work and remains one of the most watchable cross-genre actors. While Daniel sits in the center of his range, he manages to nuance the darker moments, contrasted with Freeman’s often-seen “wise” humor.

Molly Shannon’s mother is a bit shrill, but her brittleness and immaturity are not misplaced. Chinaza Uche is given little more than shades of pain, but what he does is imbued with sincerity. Twenty-something Celeste O’Connor embodies the angry teenager, Ryan, and easily holds her own against Pugh and Freeman. She proffers fire, grief, and even joy, while hovering on the verge of implosion.

So much of A Good Person feels manipulated, if not downright manipulative. Ultimately, Braff confuses messy lives with sloppy filmmaking. 

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

Woody Harrelson, far right, stars in the new comedy, Champions. Photo by Shauna Townley/Focus Features

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

After being ejected for shoving the head coach, disgraced minor league basketball coach Mark Markovich (Woody Harrelson) goes on a bender, hitting a police cruiser. Given a choice between eighteen months in jail or ninety days of community service, he opts for the latter. His sentence is to work with The Friends, the local recreation center’s intellectually challenged basketball team.

“What do I call them?” Mark asks the judge. “I suggest you call them by their names,” the judge replies.

Therein lies the heart and head of Champions, a sweet, predictable, but sincere comedy. 

Woody Harrelson in a scene from ‘Champions’. Photo courtesy of Focus Features

Champions is based on Campeones, Javier Fesser’s 2018 Spanish film which was inspired by a team created with people with intellectual disabilities that won twelve Spanish championships between 1999 and 2014. 

Bobby Farrelly (working solo for the first time) takes a straightforward approach in directing Mark Rizzo’s workmanlike but satisfying screenplay, resulting in a simple but heartfelt story. Thematically, Champions trods no new ground. Mark is a man who “can’t stick” anywhere, bumping from job to job—Ohio to Greece to Turkey to Iowa—his inability to connect results from a combination of anger and almost terminal self-absorption. 

While working with The Friends, Mark is more transformed than transforming. As much as he affects the team, he learns to see the players as human beings—something absent from both his personal and professional lives.

Harrelson’s performance offers nothing surprising, but that does not make it ineffectual. He shows restraint, an ability to listen, and seems fully present. His metamorphosis from ambivalence (texting during their first game) to commitment (running up and down the sidelines) is obvious but acceptable. He manages to make Mark’s retreat from self-destruction believable. 

There are the inevitable plot bumps and the requisite speech about what it is to be a champion. A particularly clumsy comedic interlude involves raising money for the trip to Canada. But these are to be expected. Champions is a light narrative, not a revelatory documentary.

Mark becomes involved with Alex, player Johnny’s sister. An actor of a certain age, she tours in her van, presenting Shakespeare to middle school students. The Shakespeare piece integrates later in the film but is a bit forced. It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia’s Kaitlin Olson makes Alex mildly tough and likable in a mostly limited role. Her fear of Johnny moving into a group home offers an alternate familial insight and provides her with her best moments.

The film triumphs in its small moments. The center’s director, Julio (beautifully methodical Cheech Marin), describes the players, and we are shown moments of their day-to-day lives. One works at an animal shelter; another is a master welder. These glimpses are gentle, tacit, and entirely real. Whether seeing them at work or home, these slivers are wonderfully honest and exposed without feeling intrusive. 

Woody Harrelson, center, with the cast of ‘Champions’. Photo courtesy of Focus Features

The soul and driving force of the film are the ten intellectually challenged team members, played not as victims or outsiders but as wholly realized individuals. Whether it is Casey Metcalfe as savant Marlon, expounding a wide variety of trivia, or James Day Keith’s Benny rehearsing a speech to request time off from work, they are riveting in their presence. 

Madison Tevlin is delightful as the team’s sole female, the no-nonsense Consentino. Kevin Iannucci mines Johnny for dimension and heart. The most powerful scene involves Joshua Felder’s gifted Darius. A car crash survivor, the confrontation with Mark addresses the horrors of DWI. If a bit facile, the validity cannot be denied.

Is Champions exploitive? 

For over a decade, Matt Nelson has worked for Evanston Special Recreation. He has coached basketball, track and field, powerlifting, swimming, volleyball, softball, and flag football. In addition, he has been the assistant athletics coach for Team Illinois at the 2013 USA Games (Seattle) and the 2022 USA Games (Orlando). 

In speaking with Matt on this question, he responded: “Champions is super realistic in its portrayal of a Special Olympics team with regards to their athletic abilities and the individual personalities of each athlete. Each one of my athletes comes from a different living situation—group home, living with parents, living on their own. The movie is no different and stresses how each athlete has a unique story to tell. My teams always succeed the most when they work as a team which Champions accurately portrays. And both my team and I loved the ending and thought it was PERFECT.”

The film’s climax occurs at the North American regionals during the Winnipeg Special Olympics. In agreement with Matt and his players, The Friend’s final shot has a reverberating emotional justice. 

Those looking for great depth and searing truth will find this a slight outing. But for a feel-good sports movie that gently celebrates a unique group of underdogs, Champions delivers. Ultimately, the moral comes not from Mark but from the team. “We play for each other.”

Rated PG, Champions is now playing in local theaters.

'Everything Everywhere All At Once' is the clear favorite to nab an Oscar for Best Picture at the 95th annual Academy Awards.
The Academy Awards will air live on ABC Channel 7 this Sunday at 8 p.m.

By Tim Haggerty and Jeffrey Sanzel

The 95th Academy Award contenders comprise a wealth of options. Better films provide excellent performance opportunities, so the fields are tight ones. As always, there is the potential for a great number of upsets. Who will take home the statues on March 12 at Los Angeles’ Dolby Theatre remains to be seen. But here are a few thoughts.

While all the actors up for Best Actor in a Supporting Role turned in stunning performances, the clear favorite is the once-in-a-lifetime performance of Ke Huy Quan from Everything Everywhere All at Once. Quan gives a dimensional performance that mines both the humor and the day-to-day struggle of the many-faceted character. This he accomplishes with a jaw-dropping facility, finding beauty in sadness but shining in the fantastical shades of the character. While all the other nominees are first-rate, none display Quan’s multiple sides. Barry Keoghan won the BAFTA for The Banshees of Inisherin but is unlikely to bump Quan.

‘All Quiet on the Western Front’ is in line to win Best International Feature Film.

Longshots for Actress in a Supporting Role are Angela Bassett (Black Panther: Wakanda Forever) and Hong Chau (The Whale), both presenting excellent work but will be overshadowed by a year of showy performances that had surprising depth. Also unlikely is Kerry Condon’s stern sensibility in The Banshees. Finally, it will come down to Jamie Lee Curtis and Stephanie Hsu, both offering simultaneously eccentric and grounded work in industry favorite Everything Everywhere. It is a toss-up, but veteran Curtis is probably favored, receiving the award for both the film and her body of work. 

Much like Supporting Actress, Actor in a Leading Role comes down to two equally worthy possibilities. While Austin Butler gave a good performance as Elvis, the script was weak and did not provide the dimension that would put him on a fast track to winning. Bill Nighy’s Living was too subdued and reserved to receive the Academy’s highest accolade. Paul Mescal’s Aftersun was powerful, but the film did not reach a wide enough audience. 

Actor in a Leading Role comes down to Colin Farrell in Banshees and Brendan Fraser in The Whale. Given the raw, heart-breaking performance—and a range unseen in Fraser’s previous oeuvre—the Oscar is his to lose. However, the fact that it is unlike anything in his career gives him an even stronger edge. 

Ana de Armas’s Marilyn in Blonde falls into the same problematic situation as Butler. She gives a sympathetic performance in an apathetic and unnecessarily exploitative film. The controversial nomination of Andrea Riseborough (To Leslie) earned her and the film little support—most likely taking the spot from Danielle Deadwyler’s flawless mother in Till. Michelle Williams is always good, but The Fabelmans does not display any surprises. It is a shame that Cate Blanchett’s searing composer (TÁR) and Michelle Yeoh’s multi-universe laundromat owner are up against each other. These are two exceptional performances, and both actresses deserve to stand on the Dolby stage—these are career bests. While a tie would solve the problem, the never-awarded Yeoh has a slight edge over the Oscar-winner Blanchett. 

The now glutted Best Picture field includes fillers: the bloated Avatar: The Way of Water (visually stunning but overlong), the ultimate popcorn Top Gun: Maverick (an improvement over the original but still popcorn), and Elvis (clumsy and wrong-headed). Triangle of Sadness was a fascinating exercise, and Women Talking was emotionally gut-wrenching, but both played below the radar. All Quiet on the Western Front will win Best International Feature Film. The critically lauded TÁR and Banshees would have had better chances last season. In another year, Steven Spielberg’s autobiographical The Fabelmans would score the top prize. But the clear favorite is the mind-bending, startling, and outrageous Everything Everywhere All at Once.

As for Directing and Writing (Original Screenplay), the path reflects the Best Picture. In this case, Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert will go home with the Oscars for their exceptional work in both categories for the historically unique Everything Everywhere. All Quiet or (possibly) Women Talking will take Writing (Adapted Screenplay). 

A few shoutouts:

Animated Feature Film should go to the glorious Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio—the third Pinocchio film of the year—but the only one of any weight (or value). The moving meditation on mental health, The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse, will take home Best Short Film (Animated). The quirky Christmas Day orphanage Le Pupille will most likely win Short Film (Live Action). The Whale demonstrated true artistry in the transformation of Brendan Fraser, making it the most deserving for Makeup and Hairstyling. Music (Original Score) could go to either the chilling strings of All Quiet or the bombast of Babylon. Avatar’s only hope for an award is Visual Effects, with Sound going to Top Gun: Maverick.

When all is said, 2022 will be remembered as a strong year for original stories. In a business that thrives on remakes and sequels, this year’s films are a wealth of standalone tales.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Scottish actor Alan Cumming launched to prominence with the 1998 Broadway revival of Cabaret. Having first played the role at London’s Donmar Warehouse, the Sam Mendes-directed production shifted Cumming from working actor to star. He returned to his award-winning role in the 2014 revival. In the course of a three-decade career, he has amassed a huge list of acting credits: onstage (everything from Noel Coward’s Design for Living to a one-person MacBeth), screen (Titus, GoldenEye, Spy Kids), and television (The Good Wife). 

In addition, Cumming is a director, an LGBTQ+ activist, and a gifted writer. Unlike many celebrities who have found their way onto the printed page via “as told to” or ghosted autobiographies, Cumming’s first work was the novel Tommy’s Tale (2002). The book was a darkly comic and highly revealing roman a clef. He followed this with a fascinating and complicated look at his relationship with his abusive father, Not My Father’s Son (2014), directly resulting from his appearance on the genealogy show Who Do You Think You Are? 

His next work, You Gotta Get Bigger Dreams: My Life in Story and Pictures (2016), presented a mediation on his life through his personal cache of photos. The book served as almost a sketch for his powerful memoir Baggage: Tales from a Fully Packed Life (2021). 

In all his works, he is forthcoming about his struggles, triumphs, doubts, and desires. Baggage is a clear-eyed, sometimes outrageous but always honest account of a career with many highs but also an equal number of challenges. He is forthcoming about his substance use, his relationships, and his struggles. 

Unflinching accounts of partying are juxtaposed with revelations about his family and those closest to him. Whenever possible, he praises his artistic collaborators. He reserves overwhelming gratitude for friends who have stood by him in dark times. He shares his joy and appreciation for meeting his husband, Grant Shaffer. (Cumming discusses the difficulties of his first marriage to actor Hilary Lyon, with whom he planned on having children.) 

Throughout the book, his wit shines through, often in gallows humor when describing particularly difficult outings (such as his work as Nightcrawler in X2). The details in his stage and screen work beautifully portray a performer’s life, recounting and dissecting everything from  auditions to closings. He offers insight into film shoots, red carpets, and press junkets. 

Cumming balances self-deprecation with a sense of accomplishment. He reveals a strong survival streak in a man who has grappled with and overcome his demons. Even his meditation and views on the term “making love” are revelatory. “The more my life has changed, the closer I have come to a place of authenticity. Although I began this book by refuting the notion of having triumphed, I do see great victory in becoming yourself.”

Cumming will appear at the Cinema Arts Centre, 423 Park Ave., Huntington on Feb. 24, at 7:30 p.m. The sold-out event will include a screen of the documentary My Old School. 

A scene from ‘My Old School’

The 2022 documentary deals with the Brandon Lee scandal. In 1995, authorities discovered the supposedly seventeen year-old Bearsden Academy student, Brandon Lee, was actually a thirty-year-old former student, Brian MacKinnon. The film explores the bizarre story with a combination of present-day interviews with MacKinnon’s fellow students and teachers, animated recreations, and archival footage. While MacKinnon agreed to be interviewed, he declined to appear. Instead, Alan Cumming stands in for him, lip syncing the audio of the interviews. The film premiered virtually at the 2022 Sundance Festival. 

Following the film and a discussion, Cumming will sign copies of his book, Baggage, at a reception that includes a live jazz performance by guitarist Mike Soloway and drummer Mike Leuci.

For more information, call 631-423-7610.

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Brendan Fraser in a scene from ''The Whale' Photo courtesy of A24

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In 2012, Samuel D. Hunter’s The Whale premiered off-Broadway at Playwrights Horizons. It won both the Drama Desk and the Lucille Lortel Awards for Outstanding Play. Hunter has adapted his play for the screen in a compelling film directed by Darren Aronofsky.

The film opens with Charlie, a morbidly obese college professor, teaching online from his Idaho apartment. While Charlie urges his students to write from a place of truth and honesty, he leaves his camera off so they cannot see who he really is. His friend Liz, a nurse with personal ties to Charlie’s history, urges him to go to the hospital as he is bordering on congestive heart failure. Charlie refuses, citing a lack of health insurance and the fear of incurring huge debts.

Charlie spends his days grading papers, eating, and struggling with declining health. Thomas, a missionary from the New Life Church, visits, attempting to bring him to God. Charlie’s only other outside interaction is with the Gambino’s pizza delivery man, Dan, with whom he speaks through the closed door.

Knowing that his time is limited, Charlie reaches out to his estranged daughter, Ellie. Charlie had not seen the girl since he left her and her mother, Mary, for Alan, one of his continuing ed students. 

A dysfunctional family drama ensues that touches on depression, suicide, religion, money, and homophobia. For the screenplay, Hunter hewed closely to his original work. The play was set entirely in Charlie’s living room, and Aronofsky wisely opts to keep most of the action in the dark, cluttered room, only opening up to the apartment’s additional rooms and the porch (though Charlie never goes beyond the threshold).

The film is not subtle in its storytelling and metaphors. The titular “whale” refers to Moby Dick—both Charlie and a student essay he rereads obsessively. Nevertheless, The Whale derives strength from exceptional performances from its ensemble cast. 

The connection between Liz and Charlie is central to his survival, and Hong Chau balances her love and frustration as Charlie’s only direct contact with the outside world. She frets over his health but is a not-so unwitting enabler. Sadie Sink brings multiple shades of anger and darkness to Ellie, showing her pain but also an almost sadistic need to manipulate. 

Ty Simpkins, as Thomas, avoids cliché and makes the later revelations valid and believable. Samantha Morton appears in one scene, imbuing Mary, the alcoholic ex-wife, with the right sense of hurt and damage. But, at the center of the film is Brendan Fraser as Charlie.

Fraser’s early career included Dogfight (1991), Encino Man (1992), and School Ties (1992). He is best known for The Mummy series (1999, 2001, 2008), with other movies ranging from Dudley Do-Right (1999) and Blast from the Past (1999) to Journey to the Center of the Earth (2008) and No Sudden Move (2021). Certainly, none of these prepare audiences for the heartbreaking depth of this performance.

Going beyond the physical challenges, Fraser makes Charlie a complicated figure. He alternates between a resigned need to apologize—his litany of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry …”—and a passionate desire to see the good in people (specifically, the mercenary Ellie, who may or may not warrant this faith). 

Harrowing moments include a choking fit and a pizza binge—each horrifying and gut-wrenching in its own way. But they are no more painful than Ellie’s malevolent, “I’m not spending time with you. You’re disgusting.” And his cry, “Who would want me to be a part of their life?” Even his struggle to stand and cross the room resonates with a deep hurt. Fraser never loses sight of Charlie’s humanity, creating a dimensional, unforgettable performance. 

Fraser has already won twenty awards, an equal number of additional nominations, and another dozen pending, including the Oscar for Best Actor.

However, the film has been in the crosshairs of two controversies. Fraser’s casting required him to wear nearly three hundred pounds of prosthetics. This raised questions about why a more appropriately sized actor was not selected. (Shuler Hensley, who appeared in The Whale off-Broadway, was also heavily padded for the role.)

In addition, the character itself has stoked ire in various sectors. “Some of the film’s critics believe it perpetuates tired tropes of fat people as suffering, chronically depressed and binge eating.” (Time Magazine, December 9, 2022) Appropriately, Aronofsky’s career has included a range of controversial films, including Requiem for a Dream, Black Swan, Noah, and Mother!

These challenges aside, the film and its key performance are more than worthy of viewing. At its heart, The Whale asks: Can anyone save anyone? The Whale is a disturbing, extraordinary exploration that leaves the question unanswered. 

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Tom Hanks and his furry costar Schmagel in a scene from the film. Photo by Niko Tavernise/Columbia Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Fredrik Backman’s A Man Called Ove (2012) spent forty weeks on the New York Times Best Seller List. First published in Swedish, the English version received almost unanimous raves. The author attributed his inspiration to a newspaper article about a man named Ove who had created a stir while purchasing tickets at an art museum. As a result, Backman created a series of blog posts: “I am a Man Called Ove.” Here, he vented about the world’s many minor aggravations. Eventually, this became the source of the book.

The novel’s Ove is a curmudgeon of the first order. A rule follower, he adheres with almost religious fervor to the letter of the law. He is also deeply mourning for his wife, who passed away six months before the story starts. Forced into retirement, he sees nothing to live for and is determined to end his life so that he may join her. However, a chance encounter with his new neighbors changes his entire course. Reluctantly, Ove becomes drawn into their day-to-day drama and becomes a hesitant but invaluable ally. This involvement shifts Ove’s view of life, and he finds new purpose, mending fences and making changes.

A Swedish film, adhering closely to the source material, was adapted and directed by Hannes Holm, and starred Rolf Lassgård as Ove. Released in 2016, the well-received film was nominated for Best Foreign Language Film and is now Sweden’s third-most-watched Swedish theatrical film of all time. 

In 2017, it was announced that Tom Hanks would star in an English-language remake. (He is also a co-producer, along with his wife, Rita Wilson, Fredrik Wikström Nicastro, and Gary Goetzman). The danger of the material is leaning into its sentimentality and eschewing the darker tones. 

Director Marc Forster (Finding Neverland, Christopher Robin) and screenwriter David Magee (Finding Neverland, Life of Pi) have marginally avoided too gooey a center. While maintaining the plot and most details, this incarnation is distinctly more emotional than the novel or the Swedish version. However, taken for itself, A Man Called Otto is a surprisingly fast-paced, heartfelt two hours and a worthwhile journey. If there are moments that might feel saccharine, the end is both rewarding and cathartic.

The story revolves around Otto, first seen buying five feet of rope sold by the yard. He argues that he does not want to pay the additional thirty-three cents. Even though planning on using the rope to end his life—and clearly, the change would not make a difference to his future—he obsesses on principle. The scene establishes the man and his views.

Each day, Otto makes his morning rounds of the community. Neighbors attempt to engage him, but he responds, “I have too many things to do.” (This mantra will eventually shift from the negative to the positive.) While Backman’s Ove is taciturn, Hanks’ Otto borders on chatterbox, with a running commentary muttered under his breath. Occasionally, his vocalizations conjure an irate Mr. Bean. 

A few changes bring the film into the present: A gay character is now transgender. Social media becomes a force for good. But, overall, the throughline remains the same. 

The major narrative shift is in the use of flashbacks of Otto’s life. The book and earlier film reveal Ove’s history as a series of bad breaks, hard work, and patience. Important is his particular hate for the bureaucratic “men in the white shirts” responsible for many of the worst events in his life. In Otto, the flashbacks are used almost exclusively for his courtship, marriage, and life with Sonya (Rachel Keller). This obscures much of the causality in the story that showed Sonya bringing him out of his misfortunes. (Tom Hanks’ son Truman plays the young Otto, but his work fails to link the two Ottos.) Ove is a man marinated in sourness. Conversely, one suspects Otto is a false Grinch, masking his too-large heart.

Of course, the film’s purpose is Tom Hanks. Tom Hanks is the great American Everyman, so his Otto becomes not a scarred survivor but a reflection of what anyone would become from this loss. Like Jimmy Stewart, Hanks is unique because he manages to be all of us but wholly himself. Different from Backman’s Ove, Hanks makes Otto his own. 

There is a wonderful eclectic nature to the neighborhood residents. In particular, Mariana Treviño brings humor and grounding to Marisol, the new neighbor. In addition, Treviño offers a warm but knowing presence, suspecting that there is more going on with Otto than he shows. 

The interactions between Treviño and Hanks are the highlights of the film. (Christiana Montoya and Alessandra Perez deserve special mention for playing her children with an energy that is neither precocious nor shrill.)

In the end, A Man Called Otto is a different, if gentler, take on a touching, tender, and uplifting tale. 

Rated PG-13, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Trinity Bliss, as Tuk, in a scene from Avatar: The Way of Water. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Released in 2009, Avatar took in over $2.9 billion, making it the highest-grossing film of all time. The brainchild of James Cameron, who wrote, directed, and produced, Avatar received nine Academy Award nominations and won three: Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, and Best Visual Effects. It won the Golden Globe for Best Motion Picture and Best Director, and garnered other major awards and nominations.

Over a decade later, Avatar: The Way of Water arrives in theaters with many of the same strengths: exceptional visual artistry, extraordinary special effects, and thrilling action sequences. This time, Cameron collaborated with Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver on the screenplay (with “story by” credits adding Josh Friedman and Shane Salerno). 

Avatar: The Way of Water, a spectacle of the first order, is many things. It is also too long. Whether by twenty minutes or an hour and twenty minutes, this epic desperately sags in the middle. The original Avatar is a long film that runs two hours and forty-two minutes. Avatar: The Way of Water clocks in at three hours and twelve minutes. Is this too much of a good thing or just too much? The reality is that it is an unnecessarily extended three hours. That said, for the pure beauty of vision, it lands in the win column.

Much of the film plays like a reboot of Avatar, except this time underwater. As a result, it plays the assumption of an audience familiar if not fully aware of the background. (To a certain extent, the history is referenced and recapped in the first thirty minutes.) 

The story picks up fifteen years following the end of the first film. Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) is now chief of the Pandora tribe Omaticaya, raising a family with his wife, Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña). They have two sons, Neteyam (Jamie Flatters) and Lo’ak (Britain Dalton), daughter Tuk (Trinity Bliss), and adopted daughter Kiri. The latter was born from Grace Augustine’s (Sigourney Weaver) inert avatar. Added to the family mix is a human boy, Spider (Jack Champion), who is the son of Colonel Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang).

The Resources Development Administration (RDA) has returned to Pandora to pave the way for human colonization for a dying Earth. Na’vi avatars have been implanted with the minds and memories of deceased soldiers, with Quaritch ruthlessly leading the group. After Sully leads an attack on the RDA, Quaritch captures Jake’s children. Sully and Neytiri rescue them, but Quaritch realizes that Spider is his son and draws him in to help with his knowledge and navigation of the Na’vi. 

Meanwhile, Sully and his family flee the Omaticaya forest and hide with the Metkayina, a clan spiritually connected to the sea. While initially rejected by the Metkayina, the family eventually integrates. After a series of adventures and clashes, the film builds to a staggering thirty-plus-minute climax of jaw-dropping action. 

Thematically, like its predecessor, Avatar: The Way of Water addresses larger issues. While not approached with any subtlety, the concept of wanton plundering of natural resources and the callous destruction of an indigenous people play clearly. 

Likewise, the unwelcome and unwanted outside force annihilates for commercial gain. Embodied by the RDA’s almost carelessly sadistic General Ardmore (Edie Falco), the military destroys everything in its path. Whether devastating wildlife or destroying homes, the overwhelming and relentless insensitivity is always at the center.

The acting is fine—neither terrible nor remarkable. While the Na’vi are CGI-ed, the characters relate a range of expressions matching the vocalized emotions, allowing the viewer to believe them to be as real as their human counterparts. In addition, the meticulous detail accomplishes more than just ciphers but individuals with drive, humor, fears, and desires. 

Lo’ak (Britain Dalton) with Payakan. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios

The filmmakers have done miraculous work in the creation of sea creatures. Particularly wonderful is Payakan, who rescues one of Sully’s children. Payakan is a Tulkun, an intelligent aquatic mammal (resembling a whale). The creators have embodied this creature with a reality that makes it noble and sympathetic. Again, the film’s strength is in imaginative world-building.

At its heart, Avatar: The Way of Water wants to celebrate family and community and the ends to which we go to protect those we love. The story strives for honesty and integrity, enhanced by astonishing visuals. And while the running time is excessive (and perhaps off-putting), the final film is still a work of art. And if not great art, the film is spectacular craft. 

Rated PG-13, the film is now playing in local theaters.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

I love you, come for dinner! Isn’t that invitation we all want to hear? It promises an evening of good food, warm conversations, and the chance to share our lives with family and close friends.” The wonderful Ina Garten, best known as The Barefoot Contessa, opens her excellent new cookbook, Go-To Dinners (Penguin Random House/Clarkson Potter), with this call to celebration. Leading with community, she addresses the power of connection that meals bring. 

Garten’s most accessible work to date, the book offers seventy-eight detailed and plainly articulated recipes: “Make ahead, freeze ahead, prep ahead, easy, assembled.”

Go-To Dinners is just that. As with Modern Comfort Food, Garten acknowledges the desire for ease in challenging times. Specifically, she embraces the need for the occasional modest approach. “When I planned a party before the pandemic, it was always a multicourse extravaganza. But then the pandemic happened and everything seemed like so much work. I started making simple dinners for [my husband] Jeffrey and me. I often made a lighter, easier, all-in-one dinner.” 

In addition, the experiences of the last two years changed her point of view on leftovers — something she had previously disliked — repurposing one dinner into the next. “… I tried to think of new ways to be creative with what I had on hand. It became like a game to see how many different meals I could get out of the dinners I was cooking!” Throughout, she even suggests various “two-fers” (such as putting the leftover Mussels with Saffron Cream into the One-Pot Oven Risotto). 

English Cream Scones

She smartly breaks the book into six sections: drinks and apps; breakfast for dinner; light dinners (the largest chapter); family dinners; vegetables and sides; and desserts. Nothing seems overly complicated, and the directions, as always, are clear. “And just because a recipe is easy to make, it shouldn’t skimp on flavor or style.” 

There are one-pot meals (as mentioned above) and others that take fewer than a quarter of an hour to cook. Some are supplemented with store-bought items, such as a pie crust that works better for a particular recipe. In addition, she has suggestions for boards made of purchased food (shown in inviting arrangements).

Garten proposes clever insights. The trick to pulling off cocktails is to prepare them ahead of time in a large pitcher; this provides more time with guests. Often, she updates classics (as with Creamy Hummus and Easy Oysters Rockefeller). Breakfast for dinner is the perfect answer to the love for breakfast food but acknowledging that mornings present time constraints. From the relatively simple Overnight Irish Oatmeal to the more demanding English Cream Scones, there is something for every level of cook. 

Eggs in Purgatory

Garten writes with ease and frankness. She is self-revelatory that she did not grow up loving family meals, which were grim, anxious affairs. Her passion for parties and dinners came later. Now, dinnertime marks the welcome end of the day, a time to relax and engage, an opportunity to be home. She draws on a skiing metaphor, encouraging risk-taking. “… avoiding failure means we miss out on the thrill of accomplishing something new”— whether on the slopes or in the kitchen. She also is not lacking in a sense of humor: witness the aptly named Eggs in Purgatory, with the eggs floating in a red sauce. 

Of course, the proof is in the eating. My good friend, Doug, kindly made the Lemon Linguine with Zucchini and Basil, a highly recommended dish. He reported that the dish came together easily. His plans include tackling the Oven-Roasted Southern Shrimp Boil; the Summer Skillet with Clams, Sausage, and Corn;  and the Creamy Chicken Thighs with Lemon and Thyme. He also has his eye on Slow-Roasted Tomatoes with Fennel, Parmesan Polenta; and Panettone Bread Pudding.

Enhancing Go-To Dinners are dozens of vivid and elegant photos from the sure and artistic eye of Quentin Bacon (who also provided the visuals for Modern Comfort Food). 

“Restaurant food is wonderful but there is something soul-satisfying about making and eating a real home-cooked dinner right at your own kitchen table.” Ultimately, Ina Garten’s Go-To Dinners is an exploration of stress-free cooking with dozens of creative, tasty options to be easily prepared, shared, and enjoyed.

Go-To Dinners is available at www.penguinrandomhouse.com, www.amazon.com and www.barnesand noble.com.

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Carey Mulligan and Zoe Kazan in a scene from 'She Said' Photo courtesy of Annapurna Pictures/Plan B Entertainment/Universal Pictures

By Jeffrey Sanzel

In 2019, Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey published She Said: Breaking the Sexual Harassment Story That Helped Ignite a Movement. The two New York Times reporters had exposed producer Harvey Weinstein’s long history of abuse and sexual misconduct, leading to national awareness of the #MeToo movement. The phrase traces to MySpace 2006: Sexual assault survivor and activist Tarana Burke founded the movement as a way for Black girls to share their stories of sexual trauma.

From All the Presidents Men (1976) through Spotlight (2015) and The Post (2017), cinema has addressed difficult topics through the sub-genre of investigative journalism. These movies take a potentially static premise—working an article through phone calls, research, and interviews—and elevating them into an emotionally connective experience. Director Maria Schrader has masterfully directed Rebecca Lenkiewicz’s smart and lean script for She Said. The result is a taut, unsettling, and riveting two hours.

She Said opens with the 2016 inquiry into then-presidential candidate Donald Trump’s alleged sexual misconduct. The quick prologue presents the retaliation against his accusers and death threats against the reporter. The telling segment sets up what is to follow.

The film jumps five months to the ousting of conservative commentator Bill O’Reilly. The New York Times staff embarks on exposing sexual harassment in the workplace, finding widespread problems in large companies, including Amazon and Starbucks. 

Actor Rose McGowan becomes an inciting force when reporter Jodi Kantor receives a tip that McGowan had been raped by Weinstein when she was twenty-three. Kantor pursues leads and conducts interviews, but she realizes that even high-profile stars—including Ashley Judd and Gwyneth Paltrow—do not want to go on record. This reluctance further emphasizes the power and exploitation systemic in the Hollywood community and culture.

Kantor then joins forces with Megan Twohey. They interview some of Weinstein’s victims, encountering appalling experiences. The pair relentlessly pursue leads, traveling across the country and even to the UK. In every case, they face reluctance rooted in fear. 

The film accurately paints Weinstein as an arch manipulator—a bully who used emotional abuse to prey on young women. He cajoled with statements such as, “It’s just business.” He promised advancement and threatened to blackball, with his greatest weapon being his far-reaching control in the industry. One victim expresses guilt and shame over her powerlessness: “It’s like he took my voice that day.” Weinstein’s influence, coupled with Miramax’s multiple payouts and NDAs (non-disclosure agreements), kept the producer safe for years. Weinstein built the silence, and people complied.

The interviews with two former assistants—Zelda Perkins and Laura Madden—are central to the film. Madden, who initially declines to speak, hears from someone in the Weinstein organization, revealing the network of awareness in Weinstein’s court. This threat ignites Madden’s desire to cooperate with the investigation. 

The film shows the difficulty in finding corroborating evidence. The title—She Said—indicates the challenge of going beyond accusations. Threats of career loss, bad publicity, and “cash for silence” are roadblocks that Kantor and Twohey must overcome. Even the EEOC (Equal Employment Opportunity Commission) shows reluctance to cooperate. 

The quest takes a toll on Kantor and Twohey, invading their personal lives (though they are fortunate in the support of understanding husbands). Twohey gives birth early on and struggles with postpartum depression. Their perseverance is rewarded when several sources agree to go on public record, including Ashley Judd, who appears as herself.

As a film, She Said is relentlessly tense, with almost no breathing space, though much plays in low tones and silence. A few occasional flashbacks are a bit clumsy, but the disturbing recreation of the audiotape of Italian model Ambra Battilana Gutierrez is brilliantly recreated against images of hotel corridors. Likewise, a victim’s clothing on the floor, shown against the sound of a shower, is equally unnerving.

Carey Mulligan (Twohey) and Zoe Kazan (Kantor), both intense but never overwrought, skillfully head up a fine ensemble cast. As editor Rebecca Corbett, Patricia Clarkson once again shows her ability to be understated and fully present, guiding the two reporters with a strong hand. 

Andre Braugher displays wry depth as executive editor Dean Baquet. Jennifer Ehle and Samantha Morton are outstanding as Laura and Zelda, bringing dignity to the pain of two damaged survivors. Peter Friedman’s canny lawyer, Lanny Davis, offers dimension as well as the prevailing attitude of the misogynistic “normal.” Zach Grenier’s adversarial account, Irwin Reiter, seethes with conflict. 

While Weinstein’s hulking figure is only seen from the back, Mike Houston imbues the predator’s voiceovers with brutish, self-entitled cruelty. Finally, Judd’s presence lends an incredible additional weight to the film. Everyone invests in the narrative’s high stakes.

Suffused with tension, She Said finds much of its center in the necessarily uncomfortable and the shadow of the unspoken. Just before the story is about to run, Twohey expresses the prevailing fear: it will run, and people won’t care. While She Said is an incredible film, it is also a sober reminder there is still much work to be done.

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

Ryan Reynolds and Will Ferrell in a scene from 'Spirited.' Photo courtesy of Apple TV+

By Jeffrey Sanzel

No holiday season goes by without a new take on that perennial favorite, Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. Whether traditional or modern, serious or spoof, the story survives and thrives. 

Reviews are expected to contain some sense of objectivity. However, having had a long and personal connection to this story, I would be disingenuous, pretending I do not have strong, protective feelings. Over the years, I have viewed every version possible. 

Ryan Reynolds and Will Ferrell in a scene from ‘Spirited.’ Photo courtesy of Apple TV+

Adaptations of A Christmas Carol are most often referenced by their principals. Among the finest of the traditional versions are, of course, Alistair Sim and George C. Scott. The stronger musicals include Albert Finney, Mr. Magoo (voiced by Jim Backus), and the Muppets (with Michael Caine as the miser). Henry Winkler, Cicely Tyson, Vanessa Williams, Robert Guillaume, and Susan Lucci barely scratch the surface of the updated undertakings. Many are fans of Bill Murray’s Scrooged, but I confess to have never been on board with its strident humor and ambivalent ending. I have endured Kelsey Grammar, Tom Arnold, Tori Spelling, and even Barbie. 

This leads us to the newest addition, Spirited. Director Sean Anders has co-written the screenplay with John Morris. Composers Benj Pasek and Justin Paul (The Greatest Showman, La La Land, Dear Evan Hansen) provide the score. Will Ferrell and Ryan Reynolds star. And the film is pure, outrageous joy from beginning to end.

The plot is an absurdist mix of sentimentality and insanity, offering a fresh new vision that surprises and charms for the brisk two hours and ten-minute running time. Jacob Marley (phenomenal Patrick Page, looking and playing like a spritely Christopher Plummer) has managed the afterlife trio of Christmases Past (Sunita Mani, nailing both the earnest and the deadpan), Present (Ferrell at his best), and Future (voiced hilariously by Tracy Morgan), along with an enormous staff in what looks like a Victorian office meets twenty-first-century bureau. 

Each year, one reprehensible human is selected to be studied and redeemed. Research is done; sets are built; plans are made. The world is Alice in Wonderland crossed with M.C. Escher—sort of The Good Place: Holiday Edition.

Ryan Reynolds and Will Ferrell in a scene from ‘Spirited.’ Photo courtesy of Apple TV+

In a chance encounter, Present sets his heart on rescuing the seemingly unredeemable Clint Briggs (perfectly wry Ryan Reynolds), a media consultant lacking any conscience. Against Marley’s wishes, Present embarks on the mission to save the unsavable. Spoiler Alert (sort of): Present is Ebenezer Scrooge. The story then follows the intersection of these two who share a commonality. In essence, the question becomes, “Who redeems the redeemer?”

Ferrell is both genuine and hilarious, showing incredible restraint and real connection. He even succeeds as the traditional Scrooge in a few momentary flashbacks. Reynolds is the perfect foil, edgy and honest, and very funny. 

The great Octavia Spencer is Briggs’ quasi-Bob Cratchit but also becomes the object of Present/Scrooge’s affections. Glimpses of Brigg’s family, including his late sister, Carrie (poignant Andrea Anders), and her daughter, Wren (unassuming and genuine Marlow Barkley), build background. 

All these pieces are standard Christmas Carol tropes. But the zany, hyper-meta view matched by a fantastic score, jubilant dancing (outrageously choreographed by Chloe Arnold), and two lead performances that land every moment make Spirited something special. 

From the opening (“That Christmas Morning Feelin’”) to Reynold’s psychotic call to commerce (“Bringin’ Back Christmas”) to the greatest send-up of “Consider Yourself” since Monty Python’s “Every Sperm Is Sacred” (“Good Afternoon”), the film’s musical sequences simultaneously celebrate and satirize. Spencer finds the right blend of humor and heartache in “The View from Here.” While none of the leads are powerhouse singers, the uniformly pleasant voices hit the right vocal and emotional notes.

Anders succeeds on every level as director and adaptor, supported by a production team that delivers strong visuals and whimsical designs. He makes the central message—our choices make us who we are—feel earned rather than saccharine. In addition to a range of Dickens Easter Eggs, the film contains one of the greatest cameos seen in years.

Two more Christmas Carols will be arriving this season. A Christmas Karen takes a comedic look, with a demanding woman coming to terms with her sense of entitlement. Netflix offers the animated Scrooge: A Christmas Carol, adapted from the 1970 film. With a star-studded cast, Luke Evans voices Scrooge. Whether they become valued additions to the canon remains to be seen. In the meantime, we have Spirited to keep us warm and happy. 

I suspect many will disagree with this glowing assessment and see Spirited as one big “Bah, humbug.” As a good friend always said, “That’s why refrigerators come in different colors.” I went into this movie skeptical, dubious, and with my quill sharpened. But, like Scrooge, I left in a giddy state of Christmas euphoria.

Rated PG-13, Spirited is currently playing in local theatres as well as on Apple TV+.