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Authors Posts by Jeffrey Sanzel

Jeffrey Sanzel

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Jamie Lee Curtis reprises her role as Laurie Strode for the final time. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

After nearly forty-five years and thirteen installments, the Halloween franchise comes to a close. Halloween Ends is the third in David Gordon Green’s reboot that began with Halloween (2018) and Halloween Kills (2021). John Carpenter’s 1978 Halloween remains one of the finest horror films of the modern era, while the ensuing sequels and revisions produced diminishing returns.

A scene from ‘Halloween Ends’ Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Halloween Ends opens in 2019, three years after Halloween Kills, culminating with Michael Myers slaughtering an entire mob. Twenty-one-year-old Corey Cunningham (Rohan Campbell) accidentally causes the death of his rambunctious babysitting charge, Jeremy Allen (Jaxon Goldenberg), witnessed by the boy’s parents (Candice Rose and Jack William Marshall) as they return from an office party. It is an effective moment, one that is truly horrifying.

The film jumps forward three years to the present. A seemingly healed Laurie Strode (Jamie Lee Curtis) works on her memoir while facing the town’s anger; residents of Haddonfield hold Laurie responsible for Michael Meyer’s rampage. Laurie’s orphaned granddaughter Allyson Nelson (Andi Matichak), shares her new house. Considering the occurrences of four years prior, she also seems rather well-adjusted.

In a chance meeting, Laurie encounters Corey, who has just been terrorized by a quartet of high school band students. Corey, like Laurie, is a pariah in the community. While acquitted, he remains an outcast, replacing the seemingly absent Michael Myers. Corey is the new boogeyman. To treat his injured hand, Laurie takes Corey to the medical office where Allyson works, setting up the pair—a choice she quickly regrets. Allyson is immediately attracted to the shy, awkward Corey, and they become involved. 

After Jeremy’s mother chases Corey from a Halloween party, the bullies throw him off a bridge. He awakes in a sewer, confronted by Michael Myers (played by Nick Castle and James Jude Courtney). In a new twist, the killer sees Corey’s history in the boy’s eyes and lets him go. Immediately following, while defending himself, Corey accidentally kills a homeless man. With this encounter, the film takes a new path, tracking Corey as he assumes the mantle of Michael Myers. 

The disastrous Halloween Kills was a pointless movie, a meandering bloodbath created as a tensionless placeholder between the first and final chapters. Halloween Ends attempts to cover bigger and deeper territory. The film meditates on trauma and healing in individuals and the community. Discussions of evil entwine, questioning whether it is inherent or a result of circumstances—the nature versus nurture argument. Unusually, Michael functions as symbol and slasher. 

While Halloween Kills focused on mob mentality and the resulting violence, Halloween Ends offers a subtler perspective. Laurie refers to Haddonfield as “a plague of grief, of blame, of paranoia.” Pervading is the sense that the town must always have scapegoats—in this case, Corey, the “psychopath babysitter,” and Laurie, “the freak show.” Laurie parses the evil without—the threat to the tribe—and the malevolence within—likened to a core sickness. Evil does not die; it changes shape. Strangely—and out of place—thoughts of forgiveness are also introduced late in the action. These heady concepts stir a more interesting mix, but while raising many theories, most remain muddled and inconclusive. 

Like the previous film, the dialogue is stiff, declarative, and occasionally cringeworthy. A character states: “If I can’t have her, no one will.” Among the most puzzling pieces: Why would a devastated town continue to celebrate Halloween? Also, drawing the connection between Michael and Corey becomes tenuous. Part of Michael’s gestalt is the random and passionless kills. Corey murders predominantly for revenge, harkening to films such as Carrie or even Willard, where a bullied victim seeks retribution. Corey even has the caricature battle-axe mother (Joanne Baron), both smothering and abusive. However, clever references to the first film pepper the movie, particularly in Laurie and Michael’s final encounter.

Curtis, who was sidelined in the second film, spending much of the action in a hospital bed, takes center. Making her seventh appearance in the franchise, she presents both a grand and intimate farewell performance. Curtis owns her scenes with a strength not seen since the original. Matichak matches her as the self-actualized Allyson. Campbell’s burgeoning monster hits most of the right notes, but the predictability stymies surprise.

Thinly drawn characters driving the action populate the rest of the film. Will Patton’s Deputy Frank Hawkins is a bit too “aw-shucks” in his enamorment of Laurie. Jesse C. Boyd, who plays Allyson’s cop ex-boyfriend, is introduced to be easily dispatched. Keraun Harris, as disc jockey Willy the Kid, wandered in from a different film of a different era.

Halloween Ends delivers the promised finish. The trilogy concludes with a communal action that leaves little doubt, with no cheat teased in the credits suggesting a return. But horror movies have a way of reinventing their mythologies as needed. Is Michael Myers truly gone? That remains to be seen. To cite the misquoted Mark Twain, “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” 

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters and streaming on Peacock.

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Billy Eichner (with glasses) and Luke Macfarlane in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

For the most part, romantic comedies are predictable fare. From When Harry Met Sally and Notting Hill to the churned-out Hallmark Channel pablum, they trade surprise for pleasant comfort, rarely deviating from standard boy-meets-girl tropes. Gay characters are relegated to secondary or peripheral positions. Most commonly, they appear as best friends, dispensing sympathy and advice laden with snarky quips. 

The hilarious, delightful Bros is a wholly original comedy that honors the traditional but celebrates what makes the culture and community different. It is not a gay version of a straight movie. Instead, it smartly tells a distinctly gay story in its own voice. It is also the first gay rom-com from a major studio (Universal); nearly the entire cast and crew are people who have lived the experience.

Billy Eichner (with glasses) and Luke Macfarlane in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

At the center of Bros is Bobby Lieber, played with the right balance of angst and insight by Billy Eichner. Eichner, who has co-written the screenplay with Nicholas Stoller, created a more subdued but no less colorful version of his Billy on the Street persona. Eichner’s Bobby is a fully realized character with a host of neuroses and a fierce independence. 

Bobby is leaving his podcast/radio show, The Eleventh Brick at Stonewall, to become a curator for Manhattan’s National LGBTQ+ History Museum. While attending the launch of a new gay dating app, Bobby meets the handsome Aaron Shepard (Luke Macfarlane). After a brief flirtation, no sparks seem to be in evidence. But eventually, after spending a day together, the commitment-challenged pair begin a complicated relationship.

The film follows Bobby and Adam’s struggle to find common ground. While both men deny the value of monogamy, their journey is a push-me-pull-you battle. At heart, Bobby questions whether he could even be loved, especially by someone as good-looking as Adam. Mismatched, Bobby observes, “You’re like a gay Boy Scout, and I’m whatever happened to Evan Hansen.” Self-effacing to the point of self-destruction, Bobby eventually accepts that there could be a life with Adam. The road is fraught with potholes and leads to some very surprising places. But under Stoller’s excellent direction, the story is clear.

Running in the background are “Hallheart” holiday movies such as the bisexual Christmas with Either and the polyamorous A Holly, Poly Christmas along with Have Yourself a Heteronormative Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street But There’s One Gay Guy. These, along with discussions of straight actors co-opting gay stories as Oscar bait, make a strong comment on the cinematic industry. (In a flashback, Bobby suffers through an interview by a studio executive who wants him to shoehorn a gay love story into straight parameters. Jaw dropped, he responds, “Our relationships are different! Our sex is different!”)

Bros is never cloying or indulgent, addressing the characters’ doubts and fears head-on. Often wickedly self-satirizing, at an LGBTQ ceremony, Bobby receives “Best Cis Male Gay Man.” The award is presented by Kristin Chenoweth, adorned in a hat with a revolving replica of the Stonewall Inn. The museum staff meetings cheekily spoof personal agendas, with fractious disagreements over the Hall of Bisexuals and Abraham Lincoln’s sexuality. Even the end of Bobby and Adam’s first date pulls back to one of the funniest and most telling reveals. Harvey Fierstein cameos as a bed-and-breakfast owner, poignantly sharing his losses, but parts with the film’s best throwaway and outrageous exit lines. One of the culminating moments includes the Haunted House of Gay Trauma rollercoaster. 

The writing is funny and sharp, ranging from subtly wry to uproarious. Bobby is both in denial and hyper-self-aware. He acknowledges he does not let things go. As for relationships, “No one’s more emotionally unavailable than me.” But his humanity plays throughout the entire film. In a particularly powerful moment, he shares the experience of seeing Love! Valor! Compassion! when he was twelve, while seated between his parents.

The cast is exceptional, with a wide LGBTQ+ representation. Each actor brings a different and unique shade to the overall tapestry. As Bobby states, “We are not a monolithic group.” Macfarlane is charming and dimensional as Luke. When Bobby is to meet Luke’s upstate family, Luke makes a difficult request: “Be less yourself for three hours; I want them to like you.” Somehow, Macfarlane navigates these dangerous waters by showing Luke’s vulnerability. Guy Branum has the perfect deadpan as Bobby’s best friend, Henry. Ts Madison, Dot-Marie Jones, Miss Lawrence, Eve Lindley, and Jim Rash are flawless as the museum staff. Debra Messing is pitch-perfect, playing a desperate version of herself.

Bros never eschews the many rom-com essentials: the montage, dancing on the beach, Christmas in the City. Even the song climactic song “Love Is Not Love” both celebrates and parodies. But Bros is a fresh, bold take on the genre. Unusual? Absolutely. But one of the best romantic comedies in many years.

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

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Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Author Sarah Beth Durst

Like many sisters, Even and Odd shared many things:

            Their bedroom.

            Their closet.

            Six pairs of flip-flops.

            Use of the living-room TV.

            And … magic.

This is the intriguing premise of the gifted, award-winning Sara Beth Durst’s young adult novel, Even and Odd. Sisters Emma and Olivia Berry live in Stony Haven, Connecticut, having moved from the magic land of Firoth. The siblings’ powers manifest on alternate days. Thus, Emma’s nickname is Even, and Oliva’s is Odd.

As they grew, the girls took separate paths. Even has passionately embraced her training and is studying for her level five exams for the Academy of Magic; she wants nothing more than to enter the magic world as a hero. Odd’s interests are grounded in the “real” world; she spends her free time working at an animal shelter and sees her sorcery as a burden.

Durst is a consummate world builder. Her nearly two dozen books contain original mythologies, complete with unique and imaginative rules, histories, and limitations. (Three of her previous, very different novels were reviewed in this paper:  The Stone Girl, in May 2018; The Deepest Blue, in June 2019; and The Bone Maker, in May 2021). With Even and Odd, she has created a universe where the known overlaps with the enchanted. And while books about wizards cannot help but recall a bespectacled boy with a lightning scar, Durst’s current offering—with its wry, contemporary wit and easy charm—echoes Peter Beagle’s The Last Unicorn and Piers Anthony’s Xanth series. She writes with a smart sense of humor, penning characters larger than life but wholly relatable. As in her previous works, her dialogue is crisp and honest and always rings true.

The Berry family runs a border shop, “close to the gateway between worlds,” serving the magical community when its members are in the mundane world. In addition to supplies, it is a source of information. For example, visitors “from Firoth could ask basic questions, such as ‘What is an airplane, and is it going to eat me?” The local gateway is behind Fratelli’s Express Bagel, owned by a wizard who looks like “a carb-and-cream-cheese-bearing Santa Claus.”

A normal day immediately shifts when it appears that “magic [is] on the fritz.” Even is briefly stuck as a skunk when she is not able to reverse a transformation. While investigating the gateway, Even and Odd become trapped in Firoth. Teamed up with an energetic young unicorn traveling under the name Jeremy (real name “Shimmerglow”), they confront the villainous Lady Vell, who is draining the magic for nefarious purposes.

The unleashed turmoil has caused shifting geography, with homes landing in dangerous locations, stalked by creatures displaced from their habitats. The author subtly offers a portrait of refugees seeking haven and even a hint of vigilante justice as the population begins to question the ability of the Academy of Magic to cut through its bureaucracy and deal with the dire situation.

The book contains a wide range of unusual beings: Haughty elves, friendly centaurs conducting research, flower fairies that sting, mermaids that screech, and a curmudgeonly but helpful goblin are among the denizens.

While the action is brisk and the adventure is always engaging, Durst’s ability to balance the magical realm with true family dynamics elevates the novel. Even and Odd are close but clash. “For me to be surprised,” quips Odd, “you need not to be predictable!” They seek their parents’ approval and yet yearn for independence. The author wisely chooses for the children to hope that the adults can fix the situation (so often eschewed in literature for young people).

Durst also delves into the doubts that plague Even. She frets over the upcoming magic test:

I have to be ready […] not taking [the exam] would feel like saying she wasn’t as good as kids her age who had magic every day. Maybe even like saying I’ll never be as good as them […] It would be admitting that the little voice of doubt that nagged at her was right, that practicing every other day wasn’t ever going to be enough, and she’d never be ready to be a hero.

Once in Firoth, Even and Odd learn starling facts about their origins. They face a surprising revelation that gives an understanding of the history of the unheard of split magic. This leads to further introspection but does not deter them from entering danger for the greater good.

Even and Odd is a wonderful book about and filled with enchantment. Durst deals with misguided and false assumptions about self, but also the ability to learn and grow. The story’s heart celebrates inherently different sisters who are bonded by love. Even and Odd embraces the normal and fantastic and weaves a shared magic all its own.

Award-winning author Sarah Beth Durst lives in Stony Brook with her husband, her children, and her ill-mannered cat. Pick up a copy of Even and Odd online at www.amazon.com or www.barnesandnoble.com.  For more information, visit sarahbethdurst.com.

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'Jewish Noir II'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Pinpointing “noir” is challenging. Generally, explanations include terms such as “tough,” “cynical,” “dangerous” and “bleak.” However, these words could also apply to a range of works. This crime genre, which leans towards the dark and pessimistic, has an alchemical combination that defies a narrow definition. While often associated with hardboiled detective fiction (Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, Mickey Spillane), this is not necessarily an accurate association. Conceptually, “noir” focuses on flawed individuals who are often morally questionable or corrupt. Greed, lust, and jealousy mix with societal alienation resulting in situations from which the characters cannot extricate themselves.  

In any case, defining “noir” is not essential to appreciate the exceptional Jewish Noir II (PM Press), subtitled “Tales of Crime and Other Dark Deeds.” Edited by Kenneth Wishnia and Chantelle Aimée Osman, the collection of twenty-three compelling, sharp, and haunting tales encompasses an eclectic and page-turning mix. 

As indicated by the title, the over-arching element is Judaism. But the editors offer a range of perspectives, from religious to cultural. Some stories feature Jewish identity at their core; in others, the elements remain peripheral. In an age steeped in fear and a global rise in antisemitism, many of these short pieces — subtly and directly — address the toxicity embroiled therein. Osman indicates in the introduction, “What I do know is that this anthology is important. And the stories in this book apply to everyone.”

“Taking Names” (Steven Wishnia) uses the anniversary of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire as a framing device to highlight “corruption [as] the most truly diverse aspect of New York City politics.” Like many of the stories, the language is rich and distinct: “The spokesperson for the Laborers, a skinny guy who looked like he’d lifted more textbooks than cinderblocks …” Antisemitic backlash from a reporter’s story results in a tragic and violent turn. (Later in the volume, “Triangle” (Rabbi Ilene Schneider) uses the tragedy in a wholly different and perfectly unsettling tale of an Angel of Death nurse.)

“Sanctuary” (Doug Allyn) focuses on the horrifying impact of a newly graduated medical student and the liberation of Buchenwald. A granddaughter inherits a necklace and a packet of blood-covered documents in “The Cost of Something Priceless” (Elizabeth Zelvin). With the traditional noir edge, “Only a fool can expect the cost of acquiring treasure to be paid in full. Blood has a tendency to leak and go on leaking. So do reputation and deceit.” The story of twin generational treachery concludes with a sharp stinger of a final line. The brief but potent “The Black and White Cookie”(Jeff Markowitz) takes on segregation.

The book deals with Jewish people worldwide — even as far as Trinidad and China. Violence is consistently present, both casual and deliberate. Humor flows liberally throughout, often to create an illusion quickly shattered with a deft plot twist. “Wishboned” (Jill D. Block), with its mix of fantasy and Philip Roth, deftly skewers the bar mitzvah sphere: “That was his cue, once again, that paying for a bar mitzvah is like buying a brand new sports car and driving it straight off a cliff.”

“The Shabbes Goy” (Craig Faustus Buck) is one of the book’s truly noir entries. The Jewish elements weave tautly into a narrative of plotting femme fatales and an abusive husband. “To Catch a Ganef” (Lizzie Skurnick) blends Alfred Hitchcock Presents and O. Henry in a smartly multicultural story. “Paying the Ferrymen” (E.J. Wagner), an account of a wronged wife, also feels like an ode to that 1950s series. “Inheritance” (Terry Shames) leans into a Ladies in Retirement tone, with a nursing home setting and vengeful relatives. 

Drawing on biblical sources, “Brother’s Keeper” (Eileen Rendahl) presents a private investigator and a moral dilemma utilizing the Cain and Abel story as both a parallel and mirror image. In contrast, “The Almost Sisters” (Ellen Kirschman) contains a more ethnic reflection: “If there is a gene for pessimism it will be in Jewish blood. I heard it a million times, keynehore, don’t relax, don’t get too happy, something bad is coming.”  

“Crossover” (Zoe Quinton) broods on conversion and a suspicious mikvah death, the permeating darkness in the water giving a sense of unease.

One of the most unusual entries is editor Kenneth Wishnia’s “Bride of Torches,” a bloody account of tribal battles. While the vivid tale reaches back into ancient history, its unique voice helps fit in with this modern anthology. Equally remarkable is “The Just Men of Bennett Avenue” (A.J. Sidransky), a mystical procedural drama.

“The Hanukkah Killer” (Robin Hemley) balances the portrait of a murderer — “eyes that, if they were windows to his soul, you would have wanted nailed shut” — with the vivid portrait of an old neighborhood, with its family illness, dysfunction, and poverty.

The closing story, “Hunter” (Jen Conley), follows a therapist struggling with a threatening and most likely sociopathic patient. The details are striking and disturbing — the eeriness of a burning cigarette suggesting an ominous watcher — and contrast brilliantly with the social issue — a community’s reaction to the encroachment of Orthodox families. The story’s final line is appropriately chilling and the perfect coda to this collection.

While Jewish Noir II takes mild liberties with the definition, this is a minor quibble in this amazing collection of tightly written, powerful, and must-read stories. Pick up a copy online at Amazon.com or BarnesandNoble.com. 

In conjunction with the book, Emma S. Clark Memorial Library, 120 Main St., Setauket will host Stories Light and Dark: An Evening of Jewish Noir on Thursday, Oct. 13 from 7 to 8:30 p.m. Join Kenneth Wishnia and other contributors for a spirited discussion of the diverse themes in the Jewish Noir II anthology. Copies of the book will be available for sale at the event at a discount, plus a bonus story collection offered free with each purchase. To register, call 631-941-4080

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Kathy Najimy, Bette Midler and Sarah Jessica Parker are back in 'Hocus Pocus 2'. Photo from Disney+

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In 1993, Disney released the comedy-fantasy Hocus Pocus. The film starred Bette Midler, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Kathy Najimy as the Sanderson Sisters — Winifred, Sarah, and Mary. After their execution in Salem in 1693, the trio of witches are accidentally resurrected three centuries later. Directed by Kenny Ortega from a screenplay by Neil Cuthbert and Mick Garris, the film received negative reviews, and the studio lost over $16 million. However, Hocus Pocus became a cult favorite, with home viewing a Halloween tradition.

Now Disney offers a direct-to-streaming sequel helmed by a completely new production team. Anne Fletcher directs Jen D’Angelo’s script of Hocus Pocus 2. 

Sarah Jessica Parker, Bette Midler and Kathy Najimy with the Book of Spells. Photo from Disney+

The prologue, set in Salem in 1653, shows the young Sanderson Sisters (played with great humor by Taylor Paige Henderson as teenage Winifred, Nina Kitchen as young Mary, and Juju Journey Brener as the child Sarah) confronted by the puritanical Reverend Traske. The minister wants to marry off Winifred on this, her sixteenth birthday. The girls flee to the woods, where they encounter Mother Witch (a nice cameo by Ted Lasso’s Hannah Waddingham). The mysterious sorceress provides them with the spell book that brings them into a life of the occult.

The action jumps to the present: Halloween, 29 years after the first film’s events. Becca and her best friend, Izzy, celebrate her sixteenth birthday with a ritual in the woods. Having received the infamous black flame candle from Gilbert, the owner of the Olde Salem Magic Shoppe, Becca and Izzy accidentally conjure the witches. The newly restored enchantresses announce their desire for revenge on all of Salem. The ensuing plot rehashes much of the original film: similar situations, clumsy jokes, and mid-range magical effects.

The Sanderson Sisters visit Walgreens in a scene from the film. Photo from Disney+

The sequel’s sole reason is the return of Midler, Parker, and Najimy. The roles have achieved a certain iconography, not-so-subtly parodied. Halloween celebrants and trick-or-treaters traipse through, dressed in identical costumes. The gag builds to a look-a-like contest featuring outrageous drag queens (RuPaul’s Drag Race’s Ginger Minj, Kornbread Jeté, and Kahmora Hall). 

The usual time-travelers-out-of-time setups include a requisite but amusing visit to Walgreens. Here, Becca and Izzy convince the Sanderson Sisters the plethora of beauty products contain children’s souls. The visit ends with Midler flying off on a broom, Parker on a Swiffer, and Najimy balancing on a pair of Roombas. They conspire, bicker, and sing snatches of popular songs with alternate lyrics. Nothing new is on offer, but the drive is nostalgia, not reinvention. They truly are the “Gothic Golden Girls.”

Belissa Escobedo, Whitney Peak and Lilia Buckingham in a scene from the movie. Photo from Disney+

However, what works surprisingly well is the young cast. Whitney Peak is wonderful, making Becca real, resourceful, and appealing. She lands her punchlines without precociousness. Her wryness perfectly complements Belisssa Escobedo’s Izzy. Escobedo’s mild handwringing and edge of perpetual panic make her the ideal foil for the cooler-headed Becca. Rounding out the trio is Lilia Buckingham as Cassie Traske, the girls’ estranged friend. While she is less prominent, when she finally reunites with her best friends, her presence provides the wide-eyed incredulity that helps drive the last act.

Tony Hale doubles as the fanatical seventeenth-century pastor and his descendant, Cassie’s goofy father, who happens to be the mayor and the witches’ prime target. Hale is a gifted comedian who makes the on-the-nose quips fun and even occasionally smart. Sam Richardson charmingly mines the slightly bumbling but well-meaning Gilbert. Returning from the original film, Doug Jones gives the same easy performance as the zombie Billy Butcherson. Froy Gutierrez earns honest laughs as Mike, Cassie’s clueless boyfriend.

In the end, Hocus Pocus 2 covers little new territory. The film is often loud and busy, where it could have been clever. Many jokes are forced and do not necessarily play. 

Kathy Najimy, Bette Midler and Sarah Jessica Parker are back in ‘Hocus Pocus 2’. Photo from Disney+

Both films possess an After School Special vibe, but the core issue of the candle lit by a virgin makes for some interesting lunchroom conversation with the elementary school set. But the ending takes a different tone from the original, building to lessons about sharing power and the value of personal connection. The message is very traditional Disney and makes for a sweet resolution. For fans of the original, the film will be a welcome Halloween treat. For the rest, Hocus Pocus 2 is a harmless, if predictable, holiday outing. 

Rated PG, the film is now streaming on Disney+.

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Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“We can safely assume that one of the greatest threats to existence on the planet is distancing from the natural world.”

Karen Lloyd’s collection Abundance: Nature in Recovery (Bloomsbury Publishing) asks us to “bend closer” in viewing the planet. She wants the reader to see “the holes humans have created” during this current geological age (the Anthropocene). She uses her observations to “work out what [she’s] not been looking at but should have seen.” The book balances a healthy wonder with the perception of the losses incurred during the modern era and the destruction caused by human beings’ willful intent or, at the very least, ignorance.

In fourteen intriguing essays, she addresses a host of issues. She concedes that often problems are “hyperobjects”— concepts, ideas, and things that are so vast as to evade intellectual and emotional grasp. These include the biosphere, climate breakdown, evolution, capitalism, and politics. What makes her writing exceptional is that while she acknowledges this limitation, it has not stopped her from exploring them with insight and depth, offering both simple and breathtaking awareness.

The book is unique in its point of view. It is not a traditional dissection of environmental issues. Instead, it is a mosaic of thoughts and experiences. Lloyd focuses on the ecological but draws on art, photography, poetry, history, and personal anecdotes to build her case. Hers is an unusual, affecting, and effective approach. Her language is vivid and rich, even dealing with the depletion of the landscape and the entanglement resulting from modern encroachment. But, always, her anthem is that the natural world should be the center of our existence.

Her consideration of wildlife drives much of Abundance. She regards animals both as they are and in an anthropomorphized stage. When describing eight American brown pelicans rescued from an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, she sees, “the disposition of the pelicans is that of a Pieta, although without the central protagonist.” For Lloyd, the “act to save birds and other species from ruination caused by humans is not only a profound sense of engagement with our imagination but illustrates that human agency is also the dynamic of repair.”

She cites a range of examples of organizations repairing the damage, like the Wolves in the Netherlands Project, which is about coexistence. Here, Lloyd brings up the issue of doing as opposed to “we can talk about anything as long as we don’t have to live with it.” She details her scrutiny of birds and beavers and the many impacts of the “man-made mess.” Each account, whether pastoral or harrowing, is a visceral reminder to witness: “At what point did it begin to form, this void inside us that caused us to forget how to see?”

Engagement is the cornerstone and foundation, urging people to let their children experience the natural world and not through a screen. She recounts her adventures with a contrast of hard facts and beautiful metaphors, frank observations, and lyrical expression. As indicated, Lloyd highlights the human need for comparison. “To make allegiances between images and ideas. To render the metaphysical, the supra-human in form and word.” Thus, vultures look like Lawrence Olivier got up as Richard the third. Lapwings sport Robin Hood caps. A black-winged stilt summons the image of Audrey Hepburn. A pair of hoopoes flare like Incan gods. Her frustration with misinformation reveals a wit that tips towards gallows humor as in the discussion of Mr. Beaver in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, followed by hilarious but pointed imaginary discussion between beavers fleeing their home.

Enjoying a plate of olives on a beautiful Friday night, she wants to forget the danger new olive plantations represent to the bird population because of the drying of the land. She learns that wind turbines designed to fight climate change pose are a threat to the avian population. “… Electricity is progress, and green energy is more progress still. Even though there will always be a cost, I’ve chosen to be more upfront with myself about this. I still want electricity. I still want to eat olives.”

She is unusual and unusually brave in her honesty and continues to unpack the big questions. Whether meditating on the extinction of a species in our time, analyzing agribusiness, or pondering predator control, she never loses sight of the contradictions and complexities. There is raw bravery in both her awe and exasperation.

Ultimately, it comes down to this: “Consider the situation from all sides. Keep hold of the bigger picture. Tune out the interference and the white noise. Tune in to the ways and means in which the landscape communicates. Pay attention to what it needs to perform its work efficiently.” Lloyd’s thoughts, hopes, and perspectives are complicated. But they are a valuable reminder to open our eyes and minds to the world we have … while we still have it.

Pick up a copy online at www.Amazon.com or www.BarnesandNoble.comm.

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Florence Pugh and Harry Styles in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Actor Olivia Wilde made her directorial debut with Booksmart (2019), a coming-of-age comedy about high school seniors looking to break the rules on their final day of classes. The hugely successful film received critical accolades, landed on multiple top-ten lists, and garnered many nominations. 

Florence Pugh and Harry Styles in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Unfortunately, Wilde’s sophomore outing, Don’t Worry Darling (New Line Cinemas), is an empty, tedious psychological thriller that borrows liberally but poorly from better and smarter films.

Perfect couple Alice (Florence Pugh) and Jack (Harry Styles) reside in an idyllic 1950s community in a seemingly perpetually honeymoon of romance, domesticity, and sex. The California oasis, all sunlight and happiness, is the town of Victory; the name derives from the mysterious company for which the men work. 

Each morning, the wives stand on their perfectly manicured lawns and bid goodbye to their spouses, who join an automotive caravan into the adjunct desert where they labor on an unnamed project. The stay-at-home wives clean, cook, and then visit the club pool where they while away the day gossiping. They vaguely speculate on the corporation’s actual work, discouraged from questioning their husbands on the much-lauded “development of progressive materials.” The Stepford vibe permeates the entire film.

Olivia Wilde and Nick Kroll in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. 

The company/community is the brainchild of Frank (Chris Pine), a cult-like figure who stares and smirks and even watches as the happy couple has sex in his kitchen. He leads the group in question-response mantras: “What is the enemy of progress?” “Chaos.” “What are we doing?” “Changing the world.” References to family and to “the mission” are trotted out. The generic catchphrases somehow overwhelm the attempts at tension, resulting in an underwhelming blandness. As Frank lords over the men, his wife, Shelly (Gemma Chan), dominates the women. In a dance class, she encourages them to chant, “There is beauty in control. There is grace in symmetry. We move as one.”

Eventually, cracks begin to show, beginning with ostracized Margaret (KiKi Layne), who went with her son out into the forbidden desert but returned without him. At an afternoon gathering, Margaret claims that Victory took her son away from her, and her husband quickly subdues her. The community sees Margaret as mentally imbalanced and dismisses her accusation. However, there are other indications that something is not wholly right or real in this utopia: A topless woman strolls poolside. Freedom in language uncommon in the period. Jack’s strange dance when he is promoted to the inner circle. Whole eggs that are empty. In the midst of this, Alice has visions and hallucinations, driving her to question the fabric of her life.

Florence Pugh and Harry Styles in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Conceptually, there is little new on offer in Don’t Worry Darling. The ideas have been presented in countless films. And while there is much that is stylish in the design and Matthew Libatique’s rich and often sunbaked cinematography, the action becomes predictable and repetitive, plodding along with few surprises. 

Florence Pugh gives the scream queen Alice as many dimensions as possible. She is a riveting and honest performer and creates a dimensional woman questioning both her world and her sanity. Pugh makes every moment count as she battles with an ever smaller grasp of reality and what seems to be communal gaslighting.

Styles’ Jack is stiff in a stiff role and incapable of raising the (possibly intentionally?) stilted dialogue. Chris Pine succeeds to a certain extent in the enigmatic Frank, but there is a certain lack of texture to his villain. Wilde is strong as the gossipy and slightly bullying Bunny, Alice’s confidant. Late in the film, she has the most powerful revelation, one of the few moments that manages to be chilling and cathartic. Gemma Chan finds the right balance in the ice princess Shelley. Timothy Simmons provides a creepy, if obvious, doctor, playing it just to the edge of too much. The supporting cast fills out the town ensemble but is given little else: the men curry favor with Frank, the women with Shelley. 

A great deal of publicity has swirled around the film, with backlot drama—initially between the director and the originally cast Jack, Shia LaBeouf, and later between the director and Pugh. But, in the end, the white noise is irrelevant.

And while Don’t Worry Darling attempts to make statements about society and gender roles, the pretentious screenplay by Katie Silberman (from a story by Silberman, Carey Van Dyke, and Shane Van Dyke) fails to answer any of them. Wilde’s showy but hollow direction does nothing to solve the problems or enhance the experience. In the end, Don’t Worry Darling becomes relentless shrill, building to an ambiguously frustrating cheat of an ending.

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

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Tom Hanks, right, stars in 'Pinocchio,' which uses both live action elements and animation. Pinocchio, left, is voiced by Benjamin Evan Ainsworth. Photo courtesy of Disney +

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Disney continues to revisit its animated classics as source material for live-action films. These include 101 Dalmatians (along with a sequel and a prequel), Alice in Wonderland, Sleeping Beauty (Maleficent, with its shifted point-of-view), Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, Dumbo, Aladdin, The Lion King, Lady and the Tramp, and Mulan. Most have received mixed reactions, but this has not stemmed the flow. Added to this list is the newly released Pinocchio, now streaming on Disney+.

Cynthia Erivo is the Blue Fairy in ‘Pinocchio’

Pinocchio finds its origins in the children’s novel The Adventures of Pinocchio. Italian writer Carlo Collodi wrote of a Tuscan woodcarver named Geppetto who creates a wooden puppet who dreams of becoming a real boy. The name “Pinocchio” is a combination of the Italian words pino (pine) and occhio (eye). The character’s iconography and adventures bridge three centuries: The puppet dreams of being, given spirit guides, and a nose that grows when he lies (occurring only once in the novel). 

Disney’s Pinocchio (1940) deservedly earns the accolade “masterpiece.” Pinocchio, the follow-up to the studio’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), is only equaled by its predecessor. Three years in the making, Pinocchio was a critical hit. Writing in The Hollywood Reporter, the unnamed staff writer described the film in glowing terms: “… the picture is a masterpiece which sets another milestone along the road of screen entertainment …. a new source of joy for which [the creators] deserve and will receive the gratitude of millions who will see it.”

A scene from Disney’s ‘Pinocchio.’

Pinocchio has been seen on both the big and small screens nearly two dozen times. Casts have included the Pinocchio’s of Sandy Duncan, Paul Reubens (a.k.a. Pee-Wee Herman), Jonathan Taylor Thomas, and Roberto Benigni. Geppettos include Burl Ives, Danny Kaye, Martin Landau, Carl Reiner, and Drew Carey. In addition, a host of famous actors appeared in supporting roles.

For the newest incarnation, director Robert Zemeckis has co-adapted the screenplay with Chris Weitz, but the entire film feels like a scene-for-scene remake of the original. Where it attempts to find something new, the substitution does nothing to enhance the storytelling. Instead, it is different for its own sake. 

A few new elements are introduced into the plot but add little to the overall effect, with even the best moments falling short. “Clever” touches receive acknowledgment—cuckoo-clocks with Disney images (Snow White, Roger Rabbit, Sleeping Beauty, etc.)—but seem slightly out-of-place. The mix of live actors and CGI results in the “real” people appearing as if traveling through a virtual reality app. 

Tom Hanks is Gepetto îs Disney’s ‘Pinocchio’

The story remains the same. Inventor Geppetto fashions Pinocchio and wishes upon a star. The puppet then finds himself duped into various dangerous scenarios: encountering the fox and the cat who sell him to Stromboli, the wicked puppeteer; the journey to Pleasure Island where the children are turned into donkeys and sold; being swallowed by a sea monster; etc. Pinocchio’s spiritual guides are, of course, Jiminy Cricket and the Blue Fairy. 

Tom Hanks makes a heartfelt Geppetto, a widower in mourning for his wife and son. He infuses the character with a deep kindness interwoven with a fragile and broken soul. He puts a smile on the puppet so he will “always be happy.” The image of his setting out to find Pinocchio, packing his beloved cat, Figaro, and cradling his adored fish, Cleo, is touching. One could wish Hanks’ make-up to be a little less extreme, with bushy hair, mustache, and eyebrows worthy of their own zip code. 

Cynthia Erivo makes a beautiful, fully present Blue Fairy. The voice work is good, with Benjamin Evan Ainsworth’s sweet and never saccharine Pinocchio. Joseph Gordon-Levitt gives Jiminy Cricket a southern flavor but conveys his concern as the puppet’s conscience. Lorraine Bracco (a friendly seagull) and Keegan-Michael Key, as Honest John, the con-fox, are fine if a bit one note.

The story’s heart remains to be “real” is to be brave, honest, and unselfish. While spelled out clearly, the concept sometimes gets lost in the visual noise. The pacing is uneven and often slow. The comic violence (Stromboli locking Pinocchio in a case) feels jarringly vicious. Jokes referencing Chris Pine, agents, taxes, and educational curriculum do not land so much as thud. The original music is oddly utilized and snuck in, almost as spoken verse and Alan Silvestri’s new songs unfortunately fail to enhance the film. In the end, Pinocchio feels like light-beer-and-water: all the same but less.

Upcoming and in development are live-action versions of The Little Mermaid, Peter Pan (as Peter Pan and Wendy), Snow White, Hercules, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Sword in the Stone, Robin Hood, Bambi, The Aristocats, and Lilo and Stitch along with sequels to The Lion King (Mufasa: The Lion King), Aladdin, The Jungle Book, and Cruella. With the track record of previous adaptations, one must wonder—other than money—what Disney hopes to gain. 

Rated PG, Pinocchio is now streaming on Disney +.

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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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