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Jeffrey Sanzel

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Nathalie Emmanuel in a scene from 'The Invitation' Photo courtesy of SONY Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Who doesn’t like a good vampire movie? Clearly, the creators of The Invitation. “Creators” might be inaccurate. “Responsible parties” is probably more apt. But, in what may be the only horror movie inspired by a DNA kit, the disastrous 104-minute mess manages to be witless, tiresome, and pointless. 

The film opens with a severe case of “we’re going to tell you stuff.” Evelyn “Evie” Jackson struggles as a cater-server with past due bills and aspirations of being an artist. (Her medium is ceramics, not pottery, as she later corrects her host.) Now orphaned after the passing of her mother a few months before, she floats and frets and treads water (not unlike the film). 

Through a genetic test, Evie connects with the English part of her family. Revealed is a history of a footman’s affair with an aristocrat, an escape, and a few other bits revealed throughout the exposition. 

Cousin Oliver just happens to be in New York City on business. He invites Evie to a family wedding in Yorkshire. She bids goodbye to her wisecracking, sassy best friend, packs up, and off she goes, arriving at the estate of the DeVilles. Yes. The DeVilles. Sadly, this is not even the least subtle element of the film. That ignominious award goes to the “sly” Dracula references, including the location being New Carfax, in Whitby, as well as a couple in the village named Harker. And so, it goes.

Quickly, Evie senses that all is not right in this Downton Abbey from Heck. Her idyll adventure becomes sort of an “Eat-Slay-Love” scenario as she becomes involved with Walter, the handsome young lord of the manor. She encounters a range of characterless family members — “patriarch with an eye patch,” “butler who mumbles to himself as he dispatches the hired help,” “worried ladies’ maid,” and other stock figures who are an insult to clichés. 

There is no shortage of moving shadows, darting hands, and creepy whispers on the grounds. The house sports barred windows with sharp points, a mysterious library, candles that go out, and gramophones that turn themselves on. 

The screenplay, by Blair Butler, seems to be absent of original thought and does nothing to help Jessica M. Thompson’s thrill-less, leaden direction. The Invitation might be the least erotic vampire movie of all time. The scene containing the most tension features a manicure and the obligatory cutting of the finger so that someone can suck the blood. 

Lines such as “I feel like I’m going crazy” are only equaled by the equally trite “I want to live life fully. Throw caution to the wind …” When Walter attempts to open up to Evie, the dialogue gives new meaning to cringe-worthy: “I’m tired of the façade. Of keeping up appearances … It’s isolating. I want someone to see me for who I truly am. Someone who accepts me.” Poor, lonely vampire.

There are some explanations of rituals involving the dark lord’s need for three wives (i.e., the Brides of Dracula). The concept of mortals who enable the family is a novel idea. The idea that these surrounding sycophants are collaborators in the evil is intriguing. But, once introduced, the idea drops, and back we go to the tedium. The pedestrian “climax” fails to deliver on a nearly clever twist. The very brief and supposedly amusing epilogue does nothing to solve this dead end.

As far as the presence of gore, The Invitation is a bit bloody … bloody awful, bloody boring, a bloody waste of time.

Nathalie Emmanuel (Game of Thrones)  offers a strong, resourceful Evie and holds the focus. But the material limits her ability to show a great deal of range. Thomas Doherty offers a charmless Walter, more annoying than alluring. Hugh Skinner’s Cousin Oliver seems like a refugee from an earlier time; one expects him to come bounding in with a “tennis anyone?” Stephanie Corneliussen is the mean girl, and Alana Boden is the nice girl; the less said, the better.

At one point, Evie cries, “I want to go home.” (So did I). Shortly after, she asks, “Why are you doing this to me?” (A question I asked aloud to the empty theatre.) Eternal life may feel long, but not as long as this movie. Regarding this Invitation, I suggest RSVP “will NOT attend.”

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

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'Chronicles of a Nature Photographer'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In John Hanc’s forward to John P. Cardone’s Chronicles of a Nature Photographer (Waterview Arts), he states the book “reminds us that, just on the other side of the highway, deep in the recesses of, say, one of our magnificent Long Island State Parks, are the streams and brooks, the marshlands and estuaries that still provide a home to birds, animals, plants, flowers.” This beautifully explains Cardone’s celebration of nature in a book that offers his passion in prose and imagery.

Author John P. Cardone

Cardone is a vibrant storyteller with a pastoral bent. He defines “chronicles” as “documenting personal experiences over time in a historical fashion.” But he offers more than just an account, infusing the fifteen chapters with wry observations, wit, and honesty. As a result, his revealing narrative is wholly personal. “Let me start by saying that everything you read here is true and with no exaggeration or embellishment.” 

In the first chapter, Cardone begins with his fascination with the hummingbird. He juxtaposes his struggle with cancer and his journey with stem cell transplant with his desire to photograph these elusive birds. Eventually, with his wife’s help, Cardone builds a hummingbird garden during his recovery (which also coincided with the pandemic). He draws a subtle connection between the opportunity to capture images of these rare creatures and his eventual healing. 

From the very start, Cardone offers a thorough background on his subjects. His knowledge is impressive and seems vast, but he articulates with an accessible and almost conversational tone. He gives enough explanation of his photographic process without overwhelming the reader with technical details. He has ventured out in all weather, in all conditions, capturing a host of animals and settings, fascinated by the range of species, markings, and habitats. 

He makes a strong case for flowers as subjects. “… I can tell you that what photographers generally agree upon is what affects a photograph—and most will say light, color, and composition. With flowers as your subject, you have all of these and more.” Whether the focus or used as a framing border, this chapter contains incredible photographs — all vivid, rich, and colorful.

Of course, the greatest joys of the book are the color photographs, 175 in all, which are elegantly reproduced. A glorious study of an osprey landing on its nest, its wings slightly expanded, sits across from a regal American bald eagle, almost posing for its portrait.

From photographing insects with interesting angles and unusual compositions to vast landscapes and waterscapes, Cardone attains remarkable results. In Chapter 12, “A Bird in the Hand,” he shares personal pictures of his family on a visit to the Elizabeth A. Morton National Wildlife Refuge in Noyac. The final chapter has nearly two dozen glorious photos of wild horses.

‘Chronicles of a Nature Photographer’

The author’s sense of humor permeates the entire text. Whether introducing the white-tailed deer (“Love Them or Leave Them”) or expounding on his love of photographing turtles (an exchange with his four-year-old grandson, Noah, who references Raphael and Leonardo), Cardone finds whimsy and delight in his art and his life. The quests — such as his search for the snowy owl — present both small and big joys, along with surprises. (The day he photographed this particular owl as well as a harbor seal.) 

While the book focuses predominantly on his Long Island experiences, Cardone ventures as far as the Rocky Mountains. He first visited the Rocky Mountain National Park during his military service (1969-70) when stationed at Fort Carson, eight miles from Colorado Springs. He then purchased his first camera and learned how to develop black-and-white film and print with an enlarger. Fifty years later, in April 2017, he returned to the Rocky Mountain National Park, photographing elk, moose, bighorn sheep, screech owls, and a range of scenic views.

There is a certain Zen to Cardone’s approach: “Sometimes, as a nature photographer, I will take a long pause and just soak up the beauty of what I’m seeing. Being in the moment is a mindfulness practice that can help calm you.” This crosses over into his pleasure in the planning of excursions. (Currently, he offers two kayaking tours of Carman’s River: one is a photography tour and the other a naturalist tour.)

Cardone is an artist, a fan, but above all, a teacher. The book reflects someone who stands in awe of nature but embraces its possibilities. He seeks deeper understanding and communicates both the encounters and the underlying zeal. His ultimate goal is to inspire the reader to “put [his] hiking boots on and get out in nature. It’s all there, just waiting for you to visit. And if you are a parent or grandparent, to nudge the children in your life toward loving nature as well.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

A resident of Ronkonkoma, author John P. Cardone is the founder of the Long Island Authors Group, a nature photographer, a wildlife photography instructor, and a lecturer on nature topics. Chronicles of a Nature Photographer is his sixth book and is available online at Amazon.com and BarnesandNoble.com. To learn more about John, his books, and his nature work, visit his website at www.WaterviewsBook.com.

 

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Tilda Swinton a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of MGM

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In description, the plot is simple. A woman finds a bottle and releases a djinn (i.e., genie). The Djinn grants her three wishes; this is a straightforward story told hundreds of times over thousands of years. But suppose the woman is a narratologist, a scholar studying the literary theories of narrative? Suppose she is an academic who understands the interconnective nature of stories? Althea Binnie understands that “wish stories” are cautionary morality tales and “wishing is a hazardous art.” Her knowledge makes her hesitant to ask for her heart’s desire. So, the Djinn shares the story of his incarcerations. The result is Three Thousand Years of Longing, a thoughtful rumination layered in concepts. While rich in emotional complexity, the depth might not be as profound as it hopes. 

Tilda Swinton and Idris Elba in scenes from ‘Three Thousand Years of Longing.’
Photo courtesy of MGM

Director George Miller has smartly co-adapted (with Augusta Gore) A.S. Byatt’s novella The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. Drawing on a wealth of sources, Miller weaves elements nodding to One Thousand and One Nights, Canterbury Tales, The Decameron, Gilgamesh, and others into a meditative film that somehow still manages to maintain a raw intensity. Miller’s eclectic directing career has included the Mad Max series, The Witches of Eastwick, Lorenzo’s Oil, and Happy Feet. With Gore, he has infused the mostly serious screenplay with flashes of dry wit and a unique gallows humor.

Alithea leaves her London home and travels to a conference in Istanbul. Plagued by bizarre demonic hallucinations, the slightly damaged Alithea is withdrawn and almost taciturn. She purchases an innocuous glass bottle from the backroom of a small shop and, from this container, releases the Djinn. Immediately, she suspects the Djinn to be a trickster, the most common and traditional belief about these spirits.

As the Djinn relates his history, the pair open up to each other. His three personal stories, presented as offerings, create a symmetry with the three tendered wishes. The flashbacks are vividly created with the magic more in the telling and humanity than in the effects. 

He begins by relating his relationship with the Queen of Sheba and how Solomon incarcerated him for the first time. The next story jumps ahead to another court centuries later. The last encounter was in the 1800s when he found a love he desired more than his freedom. 

The framing device occurs in the Istanbul hotel room, where Alithea and the Djinn wrangle over conflicts and needs. Miller beautifully stylizes the merging of the past with the present and the present with fantasy. CGI is not overused, and whenever it is employed is effectively presented.

Tilda Swinton delicately assays the hyper-aware but sensitive and withdrawn Alithea with pain and hope. She yearns for more but expects nothing. Idris Elba’s melancholy Djinn matches her yearning but provides a grounding. The Djinn’s ability to adapt and grow earns Alithea’s trust, allowing her to help him escape being caught between realms that would leave him in oblivion. She learns that “we exist only if we are real to others.” Perfectly matched, these two actors embody the dust of humanity and the fire of a djinn. 

The featured cast populates the flashbacks with appropriately heightened, if slightly generic, performances — woodcuts and illustrations brought to life. The exception is Burcu Gölgedar, as Zefir, the object of the Djinn’s 19th-century passion, gives a ferocious portrait of a woman with an unquenchable passion for knowledge that nearly drives her mad. In addition, Melissa Jaffer and Anne Charleston share a hilarious cameo as Alithea’s bigoted London neighbors.

Much of the film focuses on the importance of stories and the art and act of storytelling. This roots in the idea that stories began as a way to explain existence and the unknown. Gradually, mythos gave way to science, the latter being “what we know … so far.” Gods outlived their purpose and were reduced to metaphor. These are heady topics, and occasionally Miller struggles to clarify so many ideas. However, his perfectly cast stars make these exchanges compelling, if not completely accessible. Wrapped in the mythology is the larger question: Can we escape fate? 

Perhaps the movie poses too many questions and fails to answer many of them. Its epic nature often conflicts with its desire to be an intimate romantic fantasy. But with the underlying passion in its lead performances, Three Thousand Years of Longing makes a strangely haunting and ultimately uplifting experience.

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

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Author Lee Miao and her book at Frank Melville Memorial Park in Setauket. Photo by Heidi Sutton/TBR News Media

By Jeffrey Sanzel

“Stop. Overthinking. Everything. Ellie. Yeah, I wish.” So states the self-proclaimed “overthinker” Ellie, the resourceful protagonist of Lee Y. Miao’s debut young adult novel Wei to Go! (Clear Fork Publishing). “Every once in a while, grown-ups want to protect you and pretend that everything’s fine. Then they’ll worry their heads off while forcing a smile.” 

After “triple moves” since kindergarten, twelve-year-old Ellie leads a well-adjusted California existence, happily living with her parents and little brother, Kipp. She plays softball, delights in language (an admitted “word-enthusiast”), and circles a crush on Russ, a boy from school. 

But a cloud steals into her happy life when her father is in danger of losing his company to a sinister corporation, the Black Turtle Group. Her Hong Kong trip to save his business and career takes her on a six-day quest. Accompanied by her mother and brother, she encounters a cast of characters who both support and foil her in turn. Among those she encounters is Mr. Han, the wise and slightly whimsical gentleman who may or may not be a benevolent figure.

The author has neatly blended a mystery plot with an honest, unstarry tween portrait of a girl with no sense of direction but a true sense of purpose. Miao understands the mind of a junior high student. Ellie struggles with her feelings for Russ:

He’s a guy from my homeroom who’s also in my math class. I’m going to play it cool and grin, and I don’t care if he’ll see a parade of silvery turquoise tinsel on my teeth.

I do not have a crush on him. Period. 

But I wouldn’t mind getting to know him better. 

The first-person narration reflects a clever, insightful mind with a wry self-awareness: “Everyone says I inherited Dad’s nose but got skipped for his blue eyes and drawing skills. But they’re overrated. I’ve got his smile but nothing to smile about now.”

Separating this from many YA adventures is the cultural element. With a mother of Chinese descent, Ellie questions her mixed identity. In afterschool Chinese heritage class, a nasty student refers to her as half-and-half. Ellie’s odyssey serves a dual purpose: to save her father’s business and connect with pieces of herself that she had either distanced or, ultimately, was unaware. 

While trying to navigate Hong Kong, she faces both enculturation and culture shock. Here, the “word nerd” (again self-admitted) embraces the lesson that the same word with a different tone can have a completely different meaning in Chinese. This epiphany goes to the root of her being and spurs intellectual and emotional growth. The complex concept is one that she applies to how she takes in the world.

Ellie recruits nine-year-old Kipp to aid her quest. And while she makes quips about her Little Brothers for Dummies manual, he shows surprising insight, drawing on his seemingly bottomless sports references. Ellie accepts that all sibling relationships are fraught with annoyance but embraces his uncanny and unmatched ability as a human GPS. “… Big sisters have to take the good with the technical.”

The Black Turtle Group, the “corporation that everyone’s heard of but knows nothing about,” makes for a strong antagonist. Miao surrounds the monolithic organization with a sense of power and danger, a business that casts a long shadow with threats of takeovers and stolen industry secrets. 

Ellie is brave and understands the risks, but she is committed to helping her family: “I read once that sometimes people go to dark places to find answers.” Wei to Go! offers plenty of intrigues: Ellie followed throughout a new and overwhelming place, having to solve cryptic verses and signs, and work her way through various shops and restaurants in the rainy and humid city. “When I found out the world is bigger than my family and me, I didn’t know I’d literally be running around in a new place far from home.”

While Wei to Go! is immersed in Chinese and Chinese American culture, the story’s universality complements an enlightening narrative and makes for an entertaining, engaging, and memorable reading experience.

Author Lee Y. Miao lives in the Three Village community with her family and a tireless dog. After working in financial jobs and writing K-12 educational material, she turned to middle-grade fiction. Her stories are about contemporary characters who discover connections to their cultures and families from the past. Sign up for her email newsletter at www.leeymiao.com to follow her writing journey. Wei To Go! is available online at Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

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Photo courtesy of MacIntyre Purcell Publishing Inc.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Looking for an entertaining summer read? A lightweight coffee table book? A terrific celebration of Long Island? Written by Stacy Mandel Kaplan, Kimberly Towers, Scott J. Mandel, and Jordan Kaplan, Hey Long Island … Do U Remember? (MacIntyre Purcell Publishing Inc.) is a fun, informative tome, blending a diverse collection of photos with fascinating anecdotes. The project began in 2008 when the authors started a Facebook group for the sharing of pictures and the history of Long Island. The group has since grown to more than 159,000 members. 

The book opens with a quick Long Island overview — a did you know?: geography, legal status, etc. Following this, the authors present a brief timeline, beginning with Long Island’s formation from a glacier in 19,000 BC and quickly working up to December 14, 2020, when the first vaccine was given in the United States, at Long Island Jewish Medical Center, in New Hyde Park. This thumbnail sketch sites the building of the Long Beach Boardwalk (1914); The Big Duck, off Route 24, in Flanders (1931); Levittown, the first modern American suburb (1947); the invention of the first video game (1958); the Blizzard of 1978; and the founding of the Long Island Ducks baseball team (2000), among other particulars.

On page ten, the book proper begins with Bald Hill in Farmingville. Each one- or two-page spread covers a different place, person, or event. With over 130 black-and-white photos       — many seen here for the first time — Hey Long Island … Do U Remember? is a delightful collective history of the place that over eight million people call home. 

One of the book’s many joys is opening at any point and working in any direction. The book requires no specific course, and the reader can dive in at will. For example, on page 14, one can read about the Bethpage Air Show. On page 75, details are offered on the “Sweet Hollow Creamery and Milk Home Delivery on Long Island.” On page 87 there is the “Riviera Bath Club.” Turn the page to have the author’s take on the Brooklyn Bridge.

Some pieces neatly build on others. “The Fashion Industry on Long Island” segues into “Fashion Trends on Long Island.” The latter starts with a portrait of the patriotic-influenced clothing of the Word War II 1940s. It travels through the media-influenced 1960s, moving onto the bold 1970s and the MTV 1980s. The authors’ crisp prose paints vivid images in a few short strokes.

The creators beautifully shape each entry, knowing when to allow the visuals to take the primary focus. “Charles Lindbergh’s Historic Flight” is dominated by a photo of the Spirit of St. Louis spanning a page and a half. They provide the most basic information (the flight from Roosevelt Field, Garden City, to Paris, the 3,600 mile/thirty-three-hour flight) and let the image carry the power. The prose-centric on “Airfields and Airports” is next, followed naturally by “Cradle of Aviation.” 

Cultural nods range from the band Ninedays, Jones Beach Theater, and the Ray Romano house to Port Washington’s Beacon Theatre and the Long Island Musical Hall of Fame. Oheka Castle warrants three pages with incredible photos, including an aerial view of the castle and another of the gardens and reflecting pool. “Houses of Worship” spans five pages and offers a complete range of religious denominations. There are a plethora of parks and preserves (“Tanner Park,” “Long Island Game Farm Wildlife Park and Children’s Zoo,” “Eisenhower Park,” “Muttontown Preserve,” “Bethpage State Park”) and restaurants (“Nathan’s Famous,” “Wetson’s,” “Pastosa Ravioli,” “Frank’s Steaks” and the “Lincoln Inn”). 

The book celebrates a varied and fascinating cross-section: everything from Grumman, Newsday, Superstorm Sandy, and the LIRR, to the Montauk Lighthouse, Whisper the Smithtown Bull, the Hope Sculpture, and the World’s Fair … Sagamore Hill and Sam Ash … the beaches, the festivals, the parades. And, of course, no book on Long Island is complete without at least a reference to poet Walt Whitman, as writer and icon. 

The authors smartly present enough information to cover each subject and stimulate interest. In addition to casual reading, the book is ideal for the classroom. Students could utilize the book to gain general knowledge on various events, ideas, and themes and then select topics to explore further and in-depth. 

Hey Long Island … Do U Remember? is a wonderful book and terrific addition to the library of works honoring the rich Long Island narrative. Order a copy today  at www.barnesandnoble.com, www.amazon.com, or your favorite online retailer.

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The cast of Theatre Three's 'Sleepy Beauty'. Photo by Peter Lanscombe/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
Cassidy Rose O'Brien and Josie McSwane in a scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
A scene from Theatre Three's 'Sleeping Beauty'.
The cast of 'Sleeping Beauty' at Theatre Three.

By Heidi Sutton

Looking for something to do with the kids on a hot and humid summer day? Allow me to recommend an afternoon of live theater. And with a princess, a prince, a wicked fairy and a spinning wheel, Theatre Three’s latest offering, the premiere of the timeless tale of Sleeping Beauty, will surely fit the bill. Oh and did I mention there’s A/C?

Written by Jeffrey Sanzel and Douglas J. Quattrock, the musical follows the storyline closely but goes one step further in questioning why the wicked fairy put a curse on the princess ultimately causing her to fall asleep for one hundred years. Is she just plain evil or was it all just a misunderstanding?

Directed by Sanzel, a cast of 7 adult actors along with 26 preteen and teen actors from Theatre Three’s Dramatic Academy present this charming re-telling of the most wonderful fairy tale of all.

King Gilder and Queen Gwen have sent out invitations for Briar Rose’s first birthday party. While the good fairies Aurora and Lily receive theirs, the wicked fairy Algabrine does not. Insulted, she crashes the party and as her “gift” to the little princess, she casts a spell that Briar Rose will prick her finger on a spinning wheel on her 18th birthday and die. When she leaves, Lily, who has not given her gift yet, changes the spell to have Briar Rose fall into a deep sleep for one hundred years only to be awakened by her one true love.

The king decries that all spinning wheels be destroyed. But there’s always one somewhere, isn’t there?

Steven Uihlein serves as narrator and uses flashbacks to tell the story and to teach an important lesson along the way. Here we meet Algabrine when she was kind and sweet and witness the moment things take a dark turn. A nice touch.

Cassidy Rose O’Brien is perfectly cast as Briar Rose. Strong-willed, confident, thoughtful and kind, she is the perfect fairy tale heroine  and quickly becomes the audience favorite as does her counterpart, a terrific Kiernan Urso as Prince Constantine. Accompanied on piano by Quattrock, their duet, “When I Close My Eyes,” is magical. 

Aria Saltini and Heather Rose Kuhn are wonderful as fairies Aurora and Lily, as is Marianne Schmidt as Cecelia, Constantine’s mother. Josie McSwane knocks it out of the park as Algabrine and has the best entrance I’ve ever seen, thanks to the incredible sound effects and lighting. Costumes by Jason Allyn are the icing on the birthday cake.

The preteen and teen supporting cast play numerous roles throughout including singing and dancing and several have lines (great jokes!). For many, this is their first time performing in front of an audience and it is an amazing opportunity to hone their craft and all did an amazing job. 

With only three performances left,  order your tickets now. And if you reserve seats in the center section of the theater, you will be in for a special treat!

Take a keepsake photo with the cast in the lobby on your way out.

Cast: Steven Uihlein, Cassidy Rose O’Brien, Area Saltini, Heather Rose Kuhn, Josie McSwane, Kiernan Urso, Marianne Schmidt, Maggie Abcug, Kate Marin, Courtney Pearsall, Guiliana Vavalle, Jared Acevedo, Marlaina Baessler, Alissa Boryushkina, Mia Caputo, Aiden Choudhary, Tara Choudhary, Kelsie Curran, Erin Curtin, Ava Garcia, Kathleen Han, Faith Hennessy, Carissa Kaplan, Chloe Kelly, Sophia Kosinski, Amelia Lappe, Hailey Polanish, Lyla Reyes, Michael Rotundo, Francesca Scott, Sophie Weeks, Emilyanne Williams and Rebecca Williams.

Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson presents Sleeping Beauty on Friday, Aug. 12 at 11 a.m. and Saturday, Aug. 13 at 11 a.m. and 2 p.m. Children’s theater continues with A Kooky Spooky Halloween from Oct. 8 to 22 and Barnaby Saves Christmas from Nov. 19 to Dec. 30. All seats are $10. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

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From left, Daniel Kaluuya, Brandon Perea and Keke Palmer in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

If something tries to be too many things, does it risk becoming about nothing?

Such is the case with writer-director-producer Jordan Peele’s Nope, a science fiction-horror-Western-comedy-domestic family drama that comments on everything from race to commerce to capitalism. The brilliant Peele’s previous work included Get Out and Us, highly original and disturbing films that combine his unique visuals with compelling storytelling.

On the surface, Nope is a traditional summer blockbuster, a high-end It Came From Outer Space, or a darker, violent Close Encounters of the Third Kind. 

With nods to matinee features of the past, the setup trades on well-known tropes with an intentionally old-fashioned feel: Something not right is going on out in the dessert … power ceases, winds blow, horses whinny … could it be that strange object glimpsed in the sky? 

Nope centers on the Haywood family, owner of Haywood’s Hollywood Horses. After the sudden and mysterious death of Otis, Sr., his son, Otis, Jr., takes over the business. (A fascinating Daniel Kaluuya is first-rate: His deadpan, comedic timing is flawless, and his dramatic stillness shows brooding depth.) Otis, Jr.—called O.J. (the first of many odd and unrelated commentaries)—struggles to keep the business going. 

His sister, Emerald (a force of nature in the hands of Keke Palmer), interferes, goads, and offers her opinions, hopes, and visions. She is both a support and a thorn, often simultaneously. In the hands of these gifted actors, the sibling relationship deserves an unencumbered film of its own. 

Quickly, the dessert residents become aware of a UAP—Unexplained Aerial Phenomena (what used to be called a UFO). Former child star Ricky “Jupe” Park (Steven Yeun) runs a third-rate western attraction, Jupiter’s Claim, and introduces the Star Lasso Experience, whereby his audience can see the UAP. With shades of King Kong and the like, this does not go well. 

Meanwhile, O.J. and Emerald enlist a Fry’s Electronics employee, Angel Torres (wryly understated Brandon Perea), to help them film the entity. Eventually, they recruit cinematographer Antlers Holst (a delightfully mannered and just over the edge of bizarre Michael Wincott) to help them capture the phenomenon on film. Earlier, Holst had fired O.J. from a commercial shoot when one of the Haywood horses kicked a crew person. (The importance of why surfaces later.)

All this is standard horror movie fare. Peele adds flashbacks of Park’s childhood incident on a sitcom, Gordy’s Home!, where the titular chimp went on a rampage, mauling and possibly murdering cast members. The link to the present is tenuous. Perhaps it is about predators. Maybe it is about exploitation. Or capitalism. Maybe. O.J. says of the extra-terrestrial: “It’s alive, it’s territorial, and it wants to eat us.” Are we meant to draw a connection?

Or is it that Park was on television? So much of Nope focuses on media and capturing the worst events with the goal of fame and profit? Emerald and O.J.’s reflexive discussion of the “money shot”—the “Oprah shot”—drives them forward. How much relates to the Haywood patriarch’s claim that the unnamed man in the first moving picture, The Horse in Motion, was his great-great-grandfather? Is this a commentary on both racial and historical cinematic issues?

And then those inflatable men? Are they meant as symbols? Or, to bastardize a Freudian quote: “Sometimes an inflatable man is just an inflatable man.” (Oh, and the TMZ reporter …)

Peele poses more questions than he chooses to answer. This can make for a fascinating movie or just a frustrating one. The drive in the first part of the film works on many levels. The latter parts tend to bog down, with the occasional scare and a handful of gross-out moments (fortunately few). The tension becomes looser rather than tauter as it moves to the conclusion. With the seemingly myriad layers of “meaning,” nothing fully reaches closure. 

As for the monster itself, the revelation is interesting, but viewers will divide on its actual effectiveness. In short, it needs to be seen to be judged. Some will find it creatively horrifying, but others will see it no different than the hokier creatures of the 1950s.

Peele will always be a good filmmaker and often a great one. With Nope, the film lives somewhere between “hmmm!” and “huh?” He has assembled a strong cast, first-rate imagery, and a unique take on an established genre. Some will delight in its obscurer moments, and others will sigh and wonder. However, we can bet whatever he dreams up next will be something worth experiencing. 

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

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Daisy Edgar-Jones and Taylor John Smith in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures
Daisy Edgar-Jones in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures
Daisy Edgar-Jones in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures
Daisy Edgar-Jones and David Strathairn in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Sony Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Released in 2018, Delia Owens’ Where the Crawdad Sings became one of the best-selling books of all time, with over twelve million copies sold. The story of Kya, a North Carolina marsh girl, was selected for Reese Witherspoon’s Hello Sunshine Book Club and Barnes & Noble’s Best Books of 2018. In 2019, it was number one on Amazon.com’s Most Sold Books in fiction, as well as The New York Times Fiction Best Sellers of 2019 and 2020. By February 2022, the novel had achieved 150 weeks on the best seller list. Witherspoon’s production company acquired the rights and has produced the film version. 

The book alternates between two timelines. The first, beginning in 1952, traces Kya’s life as it deteriorates, leaving her alone to fend for herself. The second begins in 1965, with the teenage Kya’s involvement with Chase Andrews, Barkley Cove’s former star quarterback. The relationship builds to Chase’s mysterious death in 1969, for which Kya is arrested and tried.

Lucy Alibar (who co-wrote Beasts of the Southern Wild with Benh Zeitlin) has masterfully fashioned a screenplay that honors Owens’ book but somehow transforms the narrative through judicious editing and small touches connecting past and present. Under Olivia Newman’s seamless direction, the film manages the timeline effortlessly. Cinematographer Polly Morgan has richly shot the film, celebrating the natural world but also giving a dark edge to the town scenes. This triumvirate knows how to call attention to even the subtlest details, weaving the two threads and moving the action perpetually forward.

The film closely follows the book’s dual arcs. Young Kya lives with her loving mother and siblings in a rustic cottage. A child of nature, Kya constantly explores, wondering at flora and fauna. However, her father is short-tempered and abusive. After a particularly brutal beating, her mother leaves, followed quickly by Kya’s older brother and sisters. Left with her often drunk father, Kya navigates his moods and mercurial nature. From him, she embraces the creed that you “can’t trust nobody.” But one day, he abandons the girl. Alone, Kya must learn to survive. 

An African American couple running a small store adjacent to the marsh provides her with the only humanity she knows. Kya grows up an outcast but a survivor. (Her one-day foray to school is particularly painful and poignant.) The only other kindness she receives is from a boy, Tate, who one day guides her home when she is lost.

The young adult Kya becomes involved with Tate, who loves her but goes off to school, never explaining (until later) why he did not reach out to her. Following this, Kya embarks on an unsatisfying and tense relationship with Chase. Although romance and connection are absent, she is still devastated when she discovers Chase’s engagement. 

While there is a good amount of plot, occasional sections sag from a lack of tension. A sense of foregone conclusion hovers over many of the events in Kya’s life. Fortunately, a strong cast holds the film together. 

Daisy Edgar-Jones balances Kya’s acceptance of her outsider status with her desire for a “normal life.” Her fragility contrasts with her self-awareness and a sense of inner core. She brings believability to the transition from uneducated recluse to the gifted artist and published naturalist. (Jojo Regina ably plays the young Kya.) 

Taylor John Smith is sweet and earnest as her true love, Tate. Harris Dickinson’s Chase is a bit too villainous at the outset, presenting no surprise when he turns out to be cruel and manipulative. Sterling Macer Jr. and Michael Hyatt are warm and knowing as the couple who see value in Kya, eschewing the slight caricature of the book’s characters. As Kya’s lawyer Tom Milton, David Strathairn effectively channels Atticus Finch right down the white suit; but his folksy charm balances a low-burn need to see justice. As Kya’s nightmare of a father, Garret Dillahunt brings humanity to the abusive patriarch. 

While the courtroom scenes are almost pedestrian (and fairly predictable), they accomplish what they must do. It is in the more reflective moments where the film succeeds best. Kya learns that “being isolated is one thing; living in fear is another.” Facing her own struggles, she finally understands why her mother had to leave. 

The final sequence is beautiful, honoring the novel’s conclusion but emotionally elevating it, rewarding the viewer with a powerful, honest catharsis. For fans of the book and novices of the story, Where the Crawdad Sings is an engaging, emotional, and effective film.

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

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Jeffrey Sanzel in a scene from 'Every Brilliant Thing.' Photo by Steve Ayle/Showbizshots.com

By Heidi Sutton

You’re seven years old. Your mother is in the hospital. Your father said she’s “done something stupid.”

Thus begins the remarkable one-man play, Every Brilliant Thing. Written by Duncan MacMillan with Jonny Donahoe, the story starts in 1973 as a young boy finds out his mother has attempted suicide. In response, he begins to make a list of everything brilliant about the world, everything worth living for — 1. Ice cream, 2. Water fights, 3. Staying up past your bedtime and being allowed to watch TV, 4. The color yellow, 5. Things with stripes. When his mother returns from the hospital, he leaves the list on her pillow in hopes it will help her heal. She corrects his spelling and gives it back to him. 

Jeffrey Sanzel in a scene from ‘Every Brilliant Thing.’ Photo by Steve Ayle/Showbizshots.com

After his mother’s second suicide attempt ten years later, he brings the list out again and continues to add to it until it takes a life of its own. He leaves post-its all over the house in another attempt to reach out to her, to show her that life is truly worth living. When he falls in love with his future wife Sam, the list becomes a gift for her. When he struggles with his own depression, he rediscovers the list one final time until it reaches one million and helps him heal.

Now, in association with Response Crisis Center, the show heads to Theatre Three’s Ronald F. Peierls Theatre on the Second Stage for its Long Island premiere. Under the direction of Linda May, the show stars Theatre Three’s Executive Artistic Director Jeffrey Sanzel in an incredible performance.

The cabaret-style show recruits members of the audience to join Sanzel on stage to tell the story — the veterinarian who put his childhood dog Bark Twain to sleep — the character’s first experience with death; the father who prefers music over talking; and girlfriend Sam, who he meets in college.

Others participate from their seats  — his guidance counselor Mrs. Patterson, his favorite college professor — people who have made a profound difference in his life. Still others, when prompted, call out brilliant things from his growing list — 23. Mighty Mouse, 24. Spaghetti with meatballs, 25. Wearing a cape, 317. Stars Wars, 319. Laughing so hard you shoot milk out of your nose, 731. hammocks, 993. Having dessert as your main course.

Jeffrey Sanzel in a scene from ‘Every Brilliant Thing.’ Photo by Steve Ayle/Showbizshots.com

Sanzel’s performance is, for lack of a more fitting word, brilliant. His ability to improvise is impressive and his presentation is flawless. The audience, which he draws into the story, hangs on his every word from start to finish. The result is an intimate, funny, sad, emotional, heart-warming and cathartic experience that ends much too soon. 

While he works the room, Sanzel pauses often to addresses the audience about suicide prevention and depression:

“It’s important to talk about things — particulary things that are hardest to talk about.”

“It is common for children of suicides to blame themselves. It’s natural.”

“In order to live in the present we have to imagine a future that’s better than our past — because that’s what hope is.” 

And the final — “I have some advice for anyone contemplating suicide. It’s really simple advice. Don’t do it — things get better. They might not always get brilliant, but they get better.”

1092. Conversation, 2000. Coffee, 2005. Vinyl records, 9995. Falling in love, One Million. Listening to a record for the first time, turning it over in your hands, placing the needle down … and then sitting and listening while reading through the sleeve notes.

The list (and show) will change the way you see the world. Don’t miss this one.

Photo from Response Crisis Center

Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson presents Every Brilliant Thing every Sunday at 3 p.m. through Aug. 28. Running time is one hour with no intermission. All seats are $20 with 50% of the proceeds benefitting the Response Crisis Center. Staff members from the Center will be at each performance to answer questions and provide information. Audiences are encouraged to fill out their own “brilliant things” on provided Post-It notes in the lobby, which will be on display throughout the show’s run. For more information or to order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

CONTENT WARNING: Although the play balances the struggles of life while celebrating all that is “truly brilliant” in living each day, Every Brilliant Thing contains descriptions of depression, self-harm, and suicide. It is recommended that only audience members 14 and older attend. If you or somebody you know is struggling, call Response 24/7 at 631-751-7500 or the National Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255.

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The Coast Guard standing over some of the cargo from the Thelma Phoebe. Photo courtesy of the Henry L. Ferguson Museum Collection.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“The reality of the rumrunning business is a lot darker than local memory paints it.” In the fascinating book, Rumrunning in Suffolk County: Tales from Liquor Island (The History Press), author Amy Kasuga Folk resists the whimsy and nostalgia often employed when writing about the Prohibition era. Instead, she offers a focused, detailed account, thoroughly researched and rich in detail.

Folk opens with a concise history of nineteenth-century alcohol consumption, the rise of the temperance movement, and how it connected to anti-immigrant sentiment. She points to the bias against immigrants and addresses the “nativist prejudice link[ing] the new arrivals with drunkenness.” Citing this fearmongering tips the book from an exclusively historical perspective to a sociological angle. 

‘Rumrunning in Suffolk County: Tales from Liquor Island’

The creation of the Volstead Act banned the sale of alcohol, with Prohibition coming into force on January 17, 1920. Folk presents an informative overview of the history of drinking and liquor sources during the 1920s. Much of the book focuses on the change in the criminal element. Prohibition transformed street gangs dominating small areas into more dangerous organized crime. The time saw the rise of figures like Arnold Rothstein, Dutch Schultz, Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, and Bugsy Siegel. 

Folk has a strong sense of the business elements of rumrunning:

To give you an idea of how a big of a business this was, the gang on average paid $200 a week to one hundred employees when the average store clerk took home $25 a week, and they paid $100,000 a week in graft to police, federal agents and city and court officials. Despite these expenses, the gang still took in an estimated net profit of $12 million a year from the business.

At a time when a consumer could purchase a dozen oranges for twenty-five cents, the figures are astronomical. 

Cargo ships would anchor just outside the territorial line of United States waters; then, small, fast boats would claim the liquor and take it back to shore. Thus, “rumrunning” was born. Shortwave radios were common—quoting coded messages and describing  inventory, orders, sales, and other details. Messages were even broadcast through commercial radio stations.

The book chronicles year-by-year, from 1921 through 1932. Violence on both sides of the law was commonplace. From fisherman hiding bottles in their catches to potato trucks concealing cases of illicit whiskey, Folk shows the intersection of day-to-day life with the precarious, dangerous business that made “Long Island, which is also termed Liquor Island … the wettest spot in the entire country.” (County Review, February 1, 1924)

Glass and liquid weigh a lot. One way police could spot an inexperienced bootlegger was to look for a car that had sagging suspension. Photo from Library of Congress.

In a detailed exploration, Folk mentions judges, attorneys, law enforcement agents, and a full range of transgressors. She has a complete command of the large cast of characters, the hundreds of boats, and other vehicles, along with the events surrounding them. Anecdotes include raids, trials, missteps, and hundreds of thousands of dollars and millions of gallons of liquor. There are storms and drownings, shootouts, and collateral damage. From Southold to Huntington Harbor, the accounts tell of the clash of lawmen and gunmen. The author  complements the text with a wide range of period photos. 

The book is not without a touch of humor, as in this account of April 1927:

In an effort to move faster by lightening their load, a rumrunner being chased by the Coast Guard had thrown case after case of scotch overboard. The cases riding the waves were estimated to be fifteen to twenty miles out, but they were floating towards the shore. Guardsmen from the Quogue station spotted the first crate floating inland, and by two o’clock in the afternoon, it had become a race—all the locals turned out determined to get a slice of the bounty floating toward their community before the government swept it all up.

“One of the problems of enforcing Prohibition was the revolving door of justice. The rumrunners and bootleggers had the money and the ability to easily make bail and walk away from the charges against them.” Sometimes, they would move their cargo when agents were testifying in court. In addition, the book addresses widespread government corruption as agents were basically “untouchable.” 

Since 1797, Port Jefferson’s harbor had shipbuilding yards. The busy harbor allowed the ship Dragon to blend in for several weeks. Author’s collection

Case-in-point: the head of the industrial alcohol inspection section of the Prohibition office in New York, Major E.C. Schroeder, went to jail for blackmail. But the flip side was that the government agencies, especially the Coast Guard, were woefully understaffed to take on the mammoth problem. Most actions were based on well-grounded evidence and experience.

Great fear existed among civilians. Getting misidentified as a rumrunner or being caught in the crossfire between bootleggers and the Coast Guard was not uncommon. Hijackings of boats, people held prisoner, low-level criminals turned informants winding up with bullets in their foreheads, all composed elements of the time. The events and incidents were so complicated that even the newspapers gave conflicting reports.

For the casual reader or the historian, Rumrunning in Suffolk County provides an excellent introduction and a detailed account of the Prohibition era in the eastern Long Island community

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

Author Amy Kasuga Folk is the manager of collections for the Oysterponds Historical Society, as well as the manager of collections for the Southold Historical Society and the town historian for Southold. Folk is also the past president of the Long Island Museum Association and the Region 2 co-chair of the Association of Public Historians. She is the coauthor of several award-winning books focusing on the history of Southold. Pick up a copy of the book at Amazon.com, or BarnesandNoble.com. 

 

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