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Jeffrey Sanzel

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The cover of 'Founders Day'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

4th grade students from the Three Village School District take a tour of Setauket. Photo from TVHS

The Three Village Historical Society has published an excellent series of short works highlighting the North Shore region. Founders Day: Discovering Setauket, Brookhaven’s Original Settlement is “a walking tour guide for families who love exploring and bringing history to life.” It joins several other excellent offerings from the Society. The slender volumes are colorful and well-researched, with dozens of illustrations and photos. The goal is “to create meaningful experiences for families interested in exploring community.” Previous publications include George Washington’s LI Spy Ring, Down the Ways – The Wooden Ship Era, and Setauket and Brookhaven History (the latter two recently reviewed in TBR News Media). 

Founders Day is written by the Society’s Founders Day Committee: Katherine Downs-Reuter, Barbara M. Russell, Donna Smith, Lindsey Steward-Goldberg, and Beverly C. Tyler. The impetus (Founders Day, created in 2006) was to “enhance [the] Three Village Central School District’s fourth grade students’ understanding of local history […] using the Vance Locke murals displayed in the Setauket Elementary School auditorium.”

The cover of ‘Founders Day’

As in previous guides, there is a well-balanced combination of archival documents, paintings dating back to the eighteenth century, and historical and current photographs. The book gives clear and concise instructions, with the tour beginning in front of the Setauket School, Main Street, Setauket, and concluding at the Emma S. Clark Library. Throughout, there are detailed explanations of building markers (coats of arms, inscriptions, plaques), archaeological points of interest, and architectural details. The writers even point out errors: “The date on the plaque on Patriot’s Rock, August 23, is wrong by two days. Information on historical markers can sometimes be wrong. It is always a good idea to check with a more original source.” This detail presents a valuable and telling lesson in the pursuit of history and historical accuracy. 

Brief family genealogies are provided in appropriate circumstances. Some sites get a thorough background. The Setauket Grist Mill rightfully warrants an entire page, given its importance to the community. A detailed account of Tyler Bros. General Store receives two detailed pages that include quotes from Lucy Hart, born in February 1899. Here, there is a discussion about the lives and fates of African Americans in the Setauket area. The text is clear, concise, and descriptive, ideal for the walking tour and a stimulus for further and deeper investigations of the various locales. 

4th grade students from the Three Village School District take a tour of Setauket. Photo from TVHS

Travel and transportation, farming, fishing, and folklore are all included. In addition, the final page contains a list of vocabulary words and terms used within the book. This inclusion further emphasizes that Founders Day, along with the many works of the Three Village Historical Society, are ideal for classroom use and an opportunity for families to explore the area in which they live.

An important note. All the recent publications carry a version of this message: “We wish to acknowledge that we are sitting on the land of the Setalcott indigenous people in Setauket and we pay respect to the Setalcott people whose land is where we live, work and explore.” This note embraces an important and growing awareness, recognizing the impact of the area’s indigenous people. 

Once again, the Three Village Historical Society has produced a novel and valuable tool for community discovery.

Copies of Founders Day: Discovering Setauket, Brookhaven’s Original Settlement are available at the Three Village Historical Society Gift Shop, 93 North Country Road, Setauket and online at www.tvhs.org.

For more information, call 631-751-3730.

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Pablo Pauly and Bill Murray in a scene from the film. Photo from Searchlight Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Auteur Wes Anderson’s works are an eclectic mix. From Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums to The Fantastic Mr. Fox and Moonrise Kingdom, his voice and vision are unique among filmmakers. Quirky characters in fast-paced comedies carry an underlying melancholy and introspection. His films have received a total of fifteen Academy Award nominations. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) received nine nominations and won four.

Now Anderson has written and directed a star-studded omnibus, The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun. Newspaper editor Arthur Howitzer, Jr. (Bill Murray) dies of a heart attack, leaving instructions to close the paper following a farewell issue. The final publication is to feature three articles from past editions, along with Howitzer’s obituary.

This thin framework is the basis for an anthology of three peculiar tales from the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun’s French foreign bureau, located in Ennui. Each vignette focuses on one of the staff writers. Perhaps the stories are meant to be a send-up of a particular genre; the overall tone is firmly tongue-in-cheek, more spoof than satire.

In the first (“The Concrete Masterpiece”), J.K.L. Berensen (Tilda Swinton) tells of an artist, Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio del Toro), serving a prison term for double murder. While incarcerated, he paints a series of prison guard Simone (Léa Seydoux), that comes to the attention of another prisoner, Julien Cadazio (Adrien Brody). Cadazio (based on controversial British art dealer Lord Duveen) feels he has found the ideal modern artist. When released, he approaches his uncles (Henry Winkler and Bob Balaban) to embark on an exhibition of Rosenthaler’s work. The fly in the ointment is that Rosenthaler has painted the works on the prison walls.

In “Revisions of a Manifesto,” Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand) is a correspondent reporting on the “Chessboard Revolution.” While becoming involved with a much younger Zeffirelli (Timothée Chalamet), the bumbling leader of the revolt, she claims that she can maintain journalistic distance and integrity. In addition to their romantic liaison, Krementz rewrites Zeffirelli’s manifesto, including an appendix. 

The final chapter is “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner.” Reporter Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright), a nod to James Baldwin and A.J. Liebling, recounts the kidnapping of Gigi (Winston Ait Hellal), the son of the Ennui police commissioner (Mathieu Amalric), by a criminal syndicate. Police officer/noted chef Lt. Nescaffier (Stephen Park) becomes the hero through an elaborate poisoning. 

The plots are simple: a send-up of modern art (with a prison movie slant); a parody of young rebels and pointless causes; and a cops-and-robbers noir. But the telling is either brilliantly twisted or frustratingly convoluted, depending on the point-of-view. While ostensibly an homage to the day of the printed magazine (i.e., The New Yorker), the visual gymnastics are the driving force. Both cinematically steroidal (including rich black-and-white and vivid pop-art color, an awareness of the artifice of the sets, and even an animated car chase) and meta-theatrical (tableaux vivant), The French Dispatch is an often absorbing, wholly strange, and indefinable two hours.

The first-rate cast is clearly game for Anderson’s world. They play in a style that could be described as hyper-low key—sly, wry, and somehow conscious of the audience. In addition to the previously mentioned, appearances include an extraordinary ensemble in roles both large and small: Owen Wilson, Elizabeth Moss, Jason Schwartzman, Fisher Stevens, Lois Smith, Larry Pine, Christoph Waltz, Liev Schreiber, Edward Norton, Willem Dafoe, and Saoirse Ronan. Anjelica Huston is the omniscient narrator.

Some will find The French Dispatch a delightful and engaging absurdist meringue, visually striking, playing on multiple levels. Others might see it as a pretentious shaggy dog story, an in-joke of epic and head-scratching proportions. In any case, it would be impossible to experience this movie and not have an opinion.

Rated R, The French Dispatch is now playing in local theaters.

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Erica Cirino with her book, ‘Thicker Than Water.’ Photo from Erica Cirino

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“Plastic shapes human identity and speeds up the rate at which we move across the world and through our days, connecting people and allowing us to express who we are to each other. And yet plastic also helps us destroy. Plastic has saved our lives while taking others’ away. Plastic is a miracle. Plastic is a scourge.”

Author Erica Cirino

Erica Cirino’s Thicker Than Water (Island Press) is a frank and pointed examination of one of the most toxic elements of our “throwaway” culture. “Almost every single person alive today uses plastic on a daily basis, most of which is designed for minutes or seconds of use before it no longer serves a designated purpose.” Cirino, a gifted author whose writings have been featured in Scientific American and The Atlantic, has penned a smart, passionate exploration of one of the most troubling and challenging issues. Subtitled “The Quest for Solutions to the Plastic Crisis,” the book examines a problem of overwhelming global impact.

The book’s first part focuses on Cirino’s 3,000-mile journey on the S/Y Christianshavn to the Pacific Ocean’s Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Located in the turbulent North Pacific Gyre, this is “the most notoriously plastic polluted stretch of ocean in the world.” And while “the patch” has been described as a “static, floating pile of plastic” (i.e., a “plastic island”), the reality is much graver. “These waters are more akin to a soup to which humanity has added an unknown number of plastic items and pieces. The plastic is commonly suspended right below the surface, pushed just of out sight, constantly and unpredictably stirred by the rolling sea.” Her thesis is clear: While plastic defines our culture, it should not be allowed to determine our future. 

The book features vivid descriptions. Whether depicting a meal or the rescue of a sea turtle from “ghost fishing,” nothing escapes her insight, expressed in often lyrical prose:

“Out at sea, time is not measured in hours or minutes, but by the intensity of the burning sun, the oscillating fade-sparkle-fade of thousands of stars and specks of glowing algae, the size and shape of the moon, the furor or calm of the sea […] The sea can show us what it is in life we need, and what we can live without.”

But the writing never masks the underlying and driving force of the dire situation.

Throughout, Cirino investigates the shift from the historical use of plants and animals to fossil fuels. She traces the involved reliance on the latter and the products created from it. She shares a comprehensive understanding. “Plastic is so permanent because of its structure on the molecular level.” She clarifies both microplastic and the even smaller particles—nanoplastic—and their invasion of the food chain.

The facts are harrowing. “About 40 percent of the plastic used today is actually not even really used by people—instead, as packaging, it covers or holds the foods and goods we purchase and is simply torn off and thrown away so we can access what’s inside.” The flimsy, disposable plastic is tossed, sometimes after a few moments’ use. “In 2015, experts estimated the amount of plastic in the oceans would outweigh fish by the year 2050 […] By 2020, humans had created enough petrochemical-based plastic to outweigh the mass of all marine and land animals combined, by a factor of two.”

And while the material presented is alarming, Cirino is never alarmist, never resorting to sensationalism. Instead, facing such devastating research, she maintains a fair and fairly objective view.

‘Thicker Thank Water’

When on shipboard or in the laboratory, she presents the science to inform and engage the reader. There is a wealth of data from the manufacture of plastics to the associated chemical pollution, from oceans to fresh waters. For example, she depicts the research done on human-ingested plastic with a mannequin that emulates human breathing. Postdoc Alvise Vianello, from Denmark’s Aalborg University, states: “From what we can tell, it’s possible people are breathing in around eleven pieces of microplastic per hour when indoors.”

The third part of the book tackles the frequently ignored environmental racism. Industrial plants are commonly erected in minority communities. Cirino focuses on Welcome, Louisiana, and its environs. The area of Louisiana is home to about one hundred and fifty industrial plants, dubbed Cancer Alley. There is a great deal of corruption surrounding these factories and complexes, with the companies permanently damaging the communities with chemical pollution. Furthermore, often the factories are built on top of presumed burial grounds of enslaved African Americans. This section highlights both environmental and sociological devastation. 

Cirino connects the dots from plastic production to climate change. She has a sense of the irony that the pandemic briefly lowered our carbon footprint. Additionally, as renewable energies rise, fossil fuel corporations—notably big oil and gas—counter the lack of demand by turning ancient carbon stocks into plastic. 

The final section of the book, “Cleaning It Up,” centers on solutions. Technical invention (trash wheels, booms, grates, etc.) and grassroots work (simply picking up garbage) are important. But, ultimately, the solution is a combination of public awareness through education, science, and systemic change of using less, or ideally, no plastic. “You wouldn’t just mop up water off your floor if your bathtub were overflowing,” says Malene Møhl of Plastic Change. “You’d turn off the tap.”

Taxes, bans, and other legislation, combined with the search for biodegradable resources (even using bacteria, fungi, and algae), face pushback from large industries, the complexity of plastic recycling, and our own desire for convenience.

It would be impossible to read this powerful book and not look at the world differently, both in the larger picture and day-to-day life. Contents of Thicker Than Water can be overwhelming—even paralyzing. But, in the end, Erica Cirino’s ideas stimulate thought, raise awareness, and, most importantly, are a call to action.

Thicker Than Water is available at IslandPress.org, Amazon.com, or BarnesandNoble.com. For more information on the author, visit www.ericacirino.com.

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Anya Taylor-Joy, left, and Thomasin McKenzie in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Focus Features

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Director Edgar Wright’s best-known work includes Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and Baby Driver. In a strong departure from his more satiric work, Last Night in Soho is an entertaining psychological thriller, mixing familiar tropes with clever, original ideas. Wright nods towards British horror films of an earlier era and a shadowy look at the “Swinging Sixties.” If the ending does not quite live up to its potential, it is a minor cavil in a fast-paced two hours.

Eloise (a riveting Thomasin McKenzie) leaves her sheltered Cornwall home for London to study fashion design. After her mother’s death (due to an unspecified mental illness that drove her to suicide), “Ellie” was raised by her grandmother (fluttering and supportive Rita Tushingham). Ellie has two passions: fashion and the 1960s, illustrated in a spot-on (if a bit on-the-nose) opening with her dancing in a newspaper gown to the sounds of “A World Without Love.” However, rather than feeling precious, there is more than a hint of frailty and even menace in a seemingly benign sequence.

Anya Taylor-Joy, left, and Thomasin McKenzie in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Parisa Taghizadeh / Focus Features

While anxious to have a career in high fashion to which her mother aspired, scholarship student Ellie finds the cutthroat university world overwhelming. Her roommate, mean girl Jocasta (Synnøve Karlsen, doing the best she can with the caricature), drives her out of their shared student housing. 

Ellie rents a top-floor apartment from the no-nonsense Ms. Collins (the final performance of the great Diana Rigg). Once ensconced in the bedsitter, Ellie begins having visions of Sandie (The Queen’s Gambit’s Anya Taylor-Joy, radiant and disturbed in equal measure). Sandie is a self-assured would-be singer in an idealized, peripatetic 1960s London.

Whether Ellie is transported back to 1965 or is having visions (or both) is part of the premise. Sometimes she sees herself reflected as Sandie. Other times, Ellie is outside Sandie, watching her. In any case, she experiences what Sandie does. At first, Ellie is delighted, finding joy in the new feelings. But quickly, the encounters turn. A talent manager, Jack (Matt Smith, oily and dangerous), engages Sandie. But Jack is a vicious, manipulative pimp, and Sandie’s life becomes a nightmare from which Ellie cannot escape.

Terence Stamp makes the most of a mysterious gentleman who seems to straddle both worlds, haunting Ellie in the pub where she has taken a job as well as the neighborhood itself. Michael Ajao’s John is warm and fully present as the fellow student who has feelings for Ellie. He owns the tricky balance of supporting Ellie but not furthering what he perceives as her delusions. 

Rigg mines depth in the wry and knowing landlady, with a final scene that skirts predictability through a dimensional, effortless, and mesmerizing performance. 

The film is strongest when it leans into the psychological elements of the story. The screenplay, by director Wright, along with Krysty Wilson-Cairns, presents two conflicted heroines. 

Ellie battles with inner demons that prevent her from adjusting to city life. The struggles are fully awakened—and acerbated—by her presence in the room where Sandie lived. Sandie fights the terrors of her horrific day-to-day life of fear and forced prostitution. Wright has created a relationship that is complementary and symbiotic and that somehow runs parallel and intersects. 

Both McKenzie and Taylor-Joy give extraordinary, textured performances, showing two individuals in search of identity. (There are some obvious but nonetheless telling moments dealing with names.) Both actors palpably manifest a powerful connection in their disconnected worlds.

Wright has used his soundtrack to great advantage, using the songs as commentary on the narrative. The nearly two dozen numbers include “Wishin’ and Hopin’,” “You’re My World,” “Puppet on a String,” “(Love Is Like a) Heatwave,” “Don’t Throw Your Love Away,” and Taylor-Joy’s acapella rendition of Petula Clark’s signature “Downtown” which is simultaneously alluring and chilling.

Clearly, Roman Polanski’s Repulsion has inspired Wright; the 1965 Catherine Deneuve film dealt with sex, violence, and a descent into madness. Where Last Night in Soho is weakest is in the horror department. The spirits take on an almost creature-feature appearance and undermine the more cerebral, edgier aspects. Cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung presents a muted present-day London while the flashbacks are initially vivid and colorful before shifting to darker hues as Sandie’s world crumbles.

While by no means a perfect film, Last Night in Soho is an excellent antidote for mindless slasher films (Halloween Kills) that seem to spring up this time of year. The film offers strong performances and an entertaining, twisty addition to the world of psychological thrillers. 

Rated R, Last Night in Soho is now playing in local theaters.

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Above, Kerriann Flanagan Brosky kicked off her Fall book tour at the Country House Restaurant in Stony Brook hosted by owner Bob Willemstyn on September 30.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

The versatile Kerriann Flanagan Brosky’s works include Historic Crimes of Long Island (reviewed in this paper October 2017), Ghosts of Long Island, The Medal, and Delectable Italian Dishes for Family and Friends, among others. Haunted America (a division of The History Press) presents her latest work, Haunted Long Island Mysteries, a well-crafted overview of various sites of supernatural activity from Sag Harbor to Port Washington. Brosky has once again teamed up with medium and paranormal investigator Joe Giaquinto to explore a range of “spirited” hauntings. 

Author Kerriann Flanagan Brosky

This is Brosky’s fourth ghost book: “The journey of investigating over one hundred presumably haunted locales on Long Island has led me to understand many things, including the importance of these spiritual beings and how they relate to our past and history, to the continuity of life after death and to the ability to communicate with our loved ones after they have passed.” Brosky finds the place where history and the spirit world eloquently intersect with the paranormal.

Both Brosky and Giaquinto come from a grounded and focused point of view. They are not looking for converts. Instead, they ask the reader to keep an open mind. “We are simply putting our research and investigations out there for one to ponder while at the same time teaching you about local history and the importance of preserving it.”

Each chapter focuses on a specific location: a house, an inn, a cemetery, a restaurant, etc. From Setauket to Patchogue, Babylon to Stony Brook — many of these places (18 in all) will be familiar to the readers from reading about or even visiting them. 

First, Brosky provides a meticulously researched background, with detailed notes on the construction and physical elements. Next, she succinctly proceeds to accounts of the occupants’ lives throughout the years—the families, the marriages, the breaks, the affairs. Finally, having established context, she arrives at the present, interviewing caretakers, directors, docents, and board members. She then connects past to present, highlighting any of the unusual occurrences. 

The final section of most chapters is composed of Brosky and Giaquinto’s actual work in the location, including photography, video, and, most interesting, the use of a ghost box. A ghost box (also known as a spirit box) contacts spirits using radio frequency. The result is EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomena): human-sounding voices from an unknown source heard on recorded data from an audiotape, radio station noise, or other electronic media. The book contains portions of transcriptions, but readers may listen to the actual recordings by visiting www.ghostsoflongisland.com, then clicking on Haunted Long Island Mysteries.

The book contains accounts of orbs of light, dark silhouettes, footsteps in the middle of the night, and slamming doors. There are rooms where the temperature is exceptionally and inexplicably cold. There are scents with no source. But it is not about things that go bump in the night (though many do, including the voice of a screaming woman). Instead, it is about the energy and the presence (perhaps more blessed than haunted). Most of the encounters are with benign and even welcoming entities. Whether focusing on a member of the Culper Spy Ring, a library custodian, a mother guilty of filicide, or victims of a shipwreck, Brosky shows respect for her mission. 

For believers, the book presents an ideal blend of history and mystery. For others, the exceptional scholarship provides an undeniably detailed examination of a range of Long Island settings. The work celebrates the scientific, not the sensational. This world is not populated by fanatics or conspiracy theories but people who have experienced events and connections for which they cannot find an explanation. 

Brosky offers many perspectives in the dozens of interviews. “People always ask us if we have ghosts,” states Frank Giebfried, a docent and board member at Meadow Croft in Sayville. “I have not really experienced anything, just a little voice here or there, but nothing that I would attribute to anything supernatural. I’m a skeptic, but I’m not going to not believe the things people tell me they experience.”

Brosky honors groups like the Bayport-Bluepoint Heritage Association, the Ward Melville Heritage Organization and the Oyster Bay Historical Society for their work in preserving these historical sites and making them available to the public.

The last two chapters are devoted to the Sundance Stables in Manorville, with the final chapter focusing on Rebecca Weissbard, who died in 2016 at age twenty-two. A gifted equestrian, “Becca” died in a horseback riding incident. Her detailed story is the ideal coda because of the resonance of its deeply personal nature.

Giaquinto best sums up Haunted Long Island Mysteries: “There is something for everyone in this book. If you love history, it’s in the book. If you like to read ghost stories and urban legends, there are many to peruse here. And if you’ve ever been curious how a paranormal researcher does their work, you’ll find it here as well.”

Haunted Long Island Mysteries is available online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon. Learn more about the author at www.kerriannflanaganbrosky.com.

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Nick Castle as Michael Myers in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

The Halloween franchise boasts eleven films, including seven in the first series (with the third an unconnected entry), a reboot, and a continuation of its premiere track. The most recent, Halloween (2018), is now joined by Halloween Kills.

Jamie Lee Curtis and Judy Greer in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

While falling into the category of “slasher movie,” Halloween (1978) remains one of the finest thrillers. Taut, brooding, and atmospheric, it relied on shadows, tension, and an unforgettable score to create its horror. John Carpenter directed and co-wrote the film that remains definitive in the genre. In addition, the film catapulted its lead, Jamie Lee Curtis, to Scream Queen stardom. She presented Laurie Strode as a self-actualized and resourceful heroine. Curtis would reprise the role four more times in addition to Halloween Kills and Halloween Ends (projected for release in 2022).

Ignoring much of the mythology developed during the progressively less inspired sequels, the well-received Halloween (2018) picked up forty years after the original film, with institutionalized killer Michael Myers (once again Nick Castle and James Jude Courtney) escaping while being transferred to a maximum-security prison. After returning to Haddonfield and embarking on a killing spree, he “dies” in Laurie’s burning home. The film emphasized Laurie as a wounded survivor, finding the inner strength to confront her living nightmare. The script—by Jeff Fradley, Danny McBride, and David Gordon Green—honored the story’s roots. Carpenter praised the outing, noting the strength of the screenplay and Green’s direction.

It would be easy to say things like Halloween Kills … an hour and forty-six minutes of your life. Or Halloween Kills … the desire to go to the movies. Or Halloween Kills … a franchise. It would be easy to pick this low-hanging fruit. So, I won’t say any of those things. 

Halloween Kills is a movie cobbled together with brutal violence and an absence of actual conflict. It serves as a placeholder between the first film, which reintroduced the characters, and the third (and hopefully final) chapter that concludes Laurie’s journey. That Michael Myers must survive to complete the trilogy is a given. Nevertheless, it does not need to be so painfully generic. In the first fifteen minutes, Michael slaughters an entire team of first responders. What follows is one meaningless killing after another.

The film makes the egregious error of showing flashbacks to the Halloween (and Halloween) of 1978. However, these newly shot scenes lack the meditative, shadowed world of the original. Instead, they are overwrought, introducing information with only the slightest nod towards character development. Additionally, the use of footage of Donald Pleasance (the powerful, understated Dr. Loomis of the source film) is a reminder of the complete absence of style and substance in this newest incarnation.

Having been stabbed in the abdomen, Laurie spends almost the entire film in a hospital bed (shades of Halloween II’s hospital location). Sidelining the strongest character is a mistake. Saddling an actor of Jamie Lee Curtis’s caliber with embarrassingly clumsy dialogue is a crime.

The roster of townspeople is a mix of new characters and shout-outs to minor characters in the original. Some of the 1978 cast returns to play themselves forty years later; others are the grown-up versions of the children hunted that fateful night. 

Anthony Michael Hall is the adult Tommy, the boy Laurie was babysitting. The role edges to slightly more than one dimension. At a bar talent night(!), Tommy shares the story of “The Bogeyman,” who terrorized the town. His character misfires on every level, trading trauma for campfire whimsy and rally-round-the-pitchfork-boys. Among the new victims for the stalk-dispatch-repeat are an African American couple (she’s a doctor; he’s a nurse) and a gay couple (Big John and Little John). Please don’t get too invested in the diversity; they are all undefined fodder for the knife.

Worst of all, in a nod to topicality, the creators introduce the dangers of mob mentality and vigilante justice. “Evil dies tonight!” they chant. Multiple times. Declarations such as “No, he’s turning us into monsters,” “The more he kills, the more he transcends,” and “He is the essence of evil” don’t elevate the situation.

The performances never overstep the awkward script. Judy Greer (as Karen Nelson, Laurie’s daughter), Andi Matichak (as Allyson Nelson, Laurie’s granddaughter),  and Will Patton (as Deputy Frank Hawkins) continue their paths from Halloween (2018). Greer, a talented actor, is a cipher. It is also hard to believe that her husband was murdered by Michael this same night. It is as if the year between the release of the films has allowed her to accept it. The storyline and timeline are bizarrely disconnected. 

For those looking for a predictable, sadistic bloodbath, Halloween Kills might be for you. But, for those hoping for plot, motivation, thought, tone, and engagement … well, there’s always next Halloween. Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Other seasonal fair to consider: the Candyman reboot; Malignant, the twisty thriller from James Wan; Lamb, the story of a human/sheep hybrid; Last Night in Soho, a psychological time-travel film with a horror overtone; malevolent forces in Shepherd; and the supernatural creature-feature Antlers, starring Keri Russell. (Please note: These films have not been reviewed by TBR News Media.)

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Michael Gandolfini as a young Tony Soprano and Alessandro Nivola as Dickie Moltisanti in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

By Jeffrey Sanzel

“It’s not T.V. It’s HBO.” 

This promotional phrase captured the viewing public’s attention, promoting a shift in the nature and caliber of the small screen. With Oz, Six Feet Under, Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Wire, Sex and the City, and Game of Thrones, the subscription service elevated quality and expectations. 

But, perhaps the show that truly launched the revolution was The Sopranos (1999-2007). And no anti-hero captured imaginations more than Tony Soprano, vividly brought to life in an award-winning performance by the late James Gandolfini. For eighty-six episodes, over six seasons, the New Jersey mob boss struggled with personal and professional demons. 

The Sopranos transformed the gangster/crime genre into an event that was perpetually brutal, darkly humorous, and almost always surprising. The ensemble cast, headed by Gandolfini and Edie Falco, was nothing short of flawless. Yet, even when it strayed from its strengths, it was still the most watchable and addictive show on television.

A scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Sopranos creator David Chase has co-penned the screenplay (with Lawrence Konner) for The Many Saints of Newark, a prequel spanning 1967 to the mid-70s. Focusing on Dickie Moltisanti (father of The Sopranos’ Christopher, played by Michael Imperioli, who narrates from beyond the grave), the story draws on the same well as its source: allegiances and betrayals, violence, and family. 

Once again, it is a realm of street shootings, hypocritical funerals, heaping trays of pasta, neglected wives, and abused mistresses. Adding texture and weight to the narrative are the race riots of Newark, as seen through the eyes of Harold McBrayer (Leslie Odom, Jr., making every moment count), an African American associate of the crime family. Though not fully realized, the unrest reflects our contemporary turbulent times.

While Tony’s father, Johnny (Jon Bernthal), is shown going to and returning from prison, the film keeps him surprisingly in the periphery. Dickie’s relationship with his father (a slightly over-the-top Ray Liotta), his father’s immigrant wife (Michela De Rossi, finding depth), and Tony (played by William Ludwig as a boy and James Gandolfini’s son, Michael Gandolfini, as a teenager) are the driving forces. 

As Dickie, Alessandro Nivola embodies bravado affected by doubt and guilt. Some of the strongest moments featured his father’s imprisoned twin brother (played with a fascinating edge and subtlety by Liotta). Like The Soprano’s Tony, the shadow of doubt and the battle with moral conflict enrich Nivola’s hoodlum.

The draw in The Many Saints of Newark comes from familiarity with the world Chase created. Saints is, in theory, a standalone film, but the mythology is rooted in what comes next. It is unlikely that people new to The Sopranos will be intrigued enough to explore the original; the film is fan-centric and for devotees. 

The most entertaining moments are the ones that reference the characters’ latter selves. John Magaro, as Silvio Dante, finds Steven Van Zandt’s peculiar walk and definitive speech pattern. While given very little to say, Samson Moeakiola’s Big Pussy is a ringer for a young Vincent Pastore. However, with their screen time, these almost feel like cameos or Easter Eggs. 

A scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Glimpses of Janice, Carmela, Jackie Aprile, and Artie Bucco are more a Where’s Waldo? than resonating additions to the overall landscape. (Corey Stoll as Junior Soprano fails to capture the essence of Dominic Chianese’s eccentric second fiddle.) The result is recognition of familiar lines or reactions rather than engrossment in the complexity of character.

Vera Farmiga is the exception. She consistently evokes Tony’s elder monster-mother Livia (the indelible creation of Nancy Marchand). Farmiga finds the broad strokes as well as the nuance in the mercurial Soprano matriarch. A simple kitchen interaction with the teenage Tony (Gandolfini) embodies the relationship core to the entire series.

The film conjures the era, shot with a brisk pace and an eye for detail by veteran Sopranos director Alan Taylor, and the gritty, period cinematography of Kramer Morgenthau (whose work has included Boardwalk Empire and Game of Thrones).

If anything, the movie offers new life to a departed show that was universally mourned by its faithful followers. It is less a driving narrative and more meditative (though violently so): Chase offers a slice of Mafia life. And while there is an arc, there is no sense of finality. 

Without James Gandolfini, a return of the television show seems unlikely. So rather than a reboot, Saints heralds a possible film series exploring what led up to where The Sopranos began. Whether these come to fruition remains to be seen. In the meantime, The Many Saints of Newark compellingly sheds some light on what came before.

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

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'The Whale's Daughter'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

There is a long tradition of Man vs. Nature in young adult literature. The Island of the Blue Dolphins, Hatchet, and even Call of the Wild (which straddles the world of adult and young adult fiction) are examples of the genre. These novels reflect how the individual changes when interacting with greater forces. Jerry Mikorenda’s The Whaler’s Daughter (Regal House Publishing) smartly explores the world of whaling in a 1910 New South Whales community.

Author Jerry Mikorenda signs a book for a fan.

In a small Australian station, the whalers have joined forces with orcas to hunt whales. Savannah Dawson, a twelve-year-old living with her widowed father, dreams of working alongside him on the boats, joining the family’s long whaling history. Her gender strongly impedes her desire. In addition, she believes that the orcas caused the death of her two brothers, Eli and Asa.

The book seamlessly weaves Savannah’s two journeys. First, her realization that the orcas were not responsible for her sibling’s death. Second, her struggle for acceptance as a crew member. The author addresses both issues throughout, using detailed research to infuse the book with a vivid portrait of life on ship and shore, the challenges of the sea, and the camaraderie of the men themselves. He touches on superstitions and familial connections. In addition, he contextually integrates both regional dialect and nautical/whaling vocabulary. (There is also a helpful appendix of terms.)

Mikorenda sets the tone and pace with Savannah’s declaration: “I began my day as I always did, lugging those dreaded pots to the fire pit to make a bushman’s stew. Their big iron bellies slogged through the sand as if they were drunken sailors being dragged to Sunday service.” He presents a life of physical toil with a heroine who has a wry sense of observation. She begins as a cook and ends on the boat. 

Savannah’s palpable frustration seats in her knowledge of being a Dawson and the weight the name carries. But being female has relegated her to a second-class citizen. Apart from an unwanted suitor, she is almost unseen. So driven to claim her birthright, she boldly chops off her hair: “If Papa needed a boy for the boats, I’d meet him halfway.” The portrait is a girl coming to terms with maturity. She questions the father-daughter relationship. “How could things go so wrong between us when all I did was grow into who I am?” More telling is her realization that “Having your dreams trampled by someone who could help you realize them is worse than not having them at all.”

Savannah’s father, both distant and damaged, shows sensitivity in a revelation centering around a letter. His opening to Savannah is one of the most touching moments in the book. In addition, Mikorenda has populated the station with a blend of interesting and colorful sailors and their families. The locale is vibrant, with special note of the wonderfully eccentric Old Whalers and Seafarer’s Home, dubbed the Pelican House. 

Certainly, the hyper-articulate Calagun is the book’s unique character. Nicknamed “Figgie,” the aboriginal boy’s eloquence is a marvel: “Your perceptions of my intentions are somewhat askew.” A new oarsman in the Dawson crew, he becomes Savannah’s companion and champion. He serves as the gateway in her shift in perception. Through him, she sees the orcas anew and, subsequently, the world. Their interactions root in genuine respect and affection. “Some people are like empty bowls we can pour all our problems into, and Figgie was that way for me,” muses Savannah. 

There is remarkable enculturation as Savannah learns from Figgie’s life experiences. Their burgeoning closeness hews tightly to the book’s heart. Figgie’s spirituality, acquired from his people, confirms man’s connection to the world: “We don’t own the earth, the earth owns us … This is where we began; this is where our spirits return to be reborn as a rock, bird, or fig tree.” 

Figgie’s explanation of the balance of nature tempers Savannah’s anger with the orcas. Her newfound comprehension leads to an encounter with an orca bringing her to shore. Confusion leads to frustration, to awareness, to acceptance. Later, they witness the birth of an orca, furthering her understanding of the pod’s dynamic.

The novel offers a sense of the hard life in New Wales. It also gives a rich glimpse into aboriginal culture and beliefs. The blend matures Savannah in ways that life solely under her father would not give her.

The Whaler’s Daughter is an engaging novel. The plot is intense and eventful, and the language vivid and resonant. But the true strength lies in the growth of Savannah Dawson, a complex girl with challenging aspirations and the drive to see them fulfilled

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: 

A resident of Northport, Jerry Mikorenda’s work has appeared in The New York Times, The Boston Herald, The Gotham Center History Blog, and the 2010 Encyclopedia of New York City. His short stories have appeared in the San Francisco Chronicle, BULL, Cowboy Jamboree, and Gravel Magazine as well as other journals. His biography America’s First Freedom Rider: Elizabeth Jennings, Chester A. Arthur, and the Early Fight for Civil Rights was published in 2020. His latest, the coming-of-age historical fiction novel The Whaler’s Daughter, is perfect for middle-grade readers and is available online at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

For more information, visit www.jerrymikorenda.com. 

 

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A scene from 'Dear Evan Hansen'. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures
Film adaptation celebrates the essence of an unforgettable musical

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Lillian Hellman’s The Children’s Hour was touted as a play exploring “the power of a lie.” The same could be said of Dear Evan Hansen, the Broadway musical that opened in 2016 and had played over 1,300 performances before the shutdown. It returns to its home at the Music Box on December 11.

Evan Hansen is a high school senior with social anxiety. His therapist has assigned him to write self-encouraging letters (thus the title). The school outcast, Connor Murphy, steals one. When Connor commits suicide, the letter is found in his pocket. The boy’s family finds solace in the idea that he had a close friend in Evan. Instead of explaining the mistake, out of a mix of sympathy, sensitivity, and fear, Evan goes along with the misunderstanding. However, the situation becomes a bigger issue when Connor’s memory becomes a cause. And while his intentions are initially good, the lie ultimately becomes destructive.

Ben Platt and Julianne Moore in a scene from ‘Dear Evan Hansen’. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Benj Pasek, who wrote the score with Justin Paul, based the idea on an incident that occurred in his Philadelphia high school. Collaborating with book writer Steven Levenson, they created a smash hit that received critical accolades and garnered dozens of awards. Its six Tony’s included Best Musical, Best Book of a Musical, Best Original Score, and Best Actor in a Musical for Ben Platt’s star turn as the titular character. 

Platt is the sole member of the stage company to recreate a role in the screen version. Much has been said (predominantly online) about Platt being too old to play Evan, but this is unfounded carping. His portrayal of the tormented teen is nothing short of devastating. He has skillfully adapted his stage persona for the screen, finding depth and subtlety, with his voice soaring from first to last. Platt’s Hansen is a gift, and a reminder of the countless stage performances lost to Hollywood productions featuring bigger names of far lesser skill.

Levenson has fashioned a smart and effective screenplay, opening it up just enough but maintaining the stage version’s intimacy and integrity. Steven Chbosky’s direction ably captures Evan’s isolation, especially in the opening “Waving Through a Window,” but there is a sense of repetition in the endless panning shots. In addition, Chbosky and Levenson rely a bit too heavily on quickly inserted fantasy shots that don’t quite land. But, overall, they have transformed the musical into a satisfying cinematic experience, and the expanded ending is richer and more fulfilling than the original.

The driving force in the musical was the score, a unique and melodious contemporary Broadway sound. Four songs have been cut for the film, so Platt now carries about eighty percent of the music. The elimination of “Does Anybody Have a Map?” clearly emphasizes Evan’s journey, which somehow marginalizes the families (or at least the adult singers). And while there is logic to the change, the choice is a loss of a perfect song and establishing the story’s larger world.

Ben Platt and Amandla Stenberg in a scene from ‘Dear Evan Hansen’. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

One of the early highlights is the cleverly realized “Sincerely Me.” Evan recruits a family friend, Jared (the hilariously deadpan Nik Dodani), to create fake backdated emails to show Evan’s friendship with Connor (Colton Ryan, who shows great range and dimension). Platt makes every song work, but none as indelibly as his confession to Connor’s family in the devastating “Word’s Fail.”

Amy Adams and Danny Pino are honest and raw as Connor’s parents. Kaitlyn Dever is both believable and heartbreaking as Connor’s sister, Zoe, the object of Evan’s affections. The family’s “Requiem” trio shows their distance and struggle. Dever and Platt’s duet “Only Us” genuinely captures their unlikely burgeoning romance. Julianne Moore is fully present as Evan’s mostly absent mother. But her vocal skills are limited, and while there is an adjustment in her one number (“So Big/So Small”), the tentative vocal quality doesn’t fully suit the strength of the character.

The creators have expanded and softened the role of Alana Beck (Amandla Stenberg), the overachiever who heads up the Connor Project. In the play, there is a mercenary quality to Alana. Here, she is given a revelation of her issues with anxiety and depression, somehow diluting Evan’s isolation. Stenberg stunningly presents a new number—“The Anonymous Ones”—but there is something generic about both its sound and sentiment.

There is a general underplaying of the social media aspect that was hyper-present in the stage production. Film is an opportunity to explore cyberspace in a big (or even bigger) way. Instead, the creators opted for two brilliant, pivotal moments: the beautifully realized anthem “You Will Be Found” and later the online posting of the “Dear Evan Hansen” letter. However, there is a strange—and inaccurate—absence of cell phone use among the students.

But in the end, all are minor cavils. Dear Evan Hansen is a powerful, emotional, and, ultimately, important adaptation, celebrating the essence of a unique and unforgettable musical.

Rated PG-13, ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ is now playing in local theaters.

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Simu Liu in a scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios
A scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios
Simu Liu in a scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios by Jasin Boland. All Rights Reserved.
Simu Liu in a scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Summer has long been the mainstay of cinematic superhero releases. Joining this season’s Black Widow and The Suicide Squad is Marvel Studio’s Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, an enjoyable, if not wholly inspired, two hours.

In the wake of the hit television show Kung Fu, the Shang-Chi character debuted in Special Marvel Edition #15 (December 1973) and starred in a solo title through 1983. Spun-off from author Sax Rohmer’s work, Shang-Chi was the unknown son of Rohmer’s arch-villain, Dr. Fu Manchu. Writer Steve Englehart stated that Shang-Chi’s name came from the study of I-Ching, with “sheng” meaning “ascending” and “chi” vital energy. After Marvel lost the rights to Rohmer’s rogue, the company renamed Shang-Chi’s father, Zheng Zu.

After a nearly five-decade history, and several attempts dating back as early as 1980, Shang-Chi has now made it to the big screen in a colorful, predictable action-adventure.

The film opens over a thousand years ago, with Xu Wenwu (Tony Leung) wielding the ten rings, bands that give extraordinary power to their holder. With his organization, the Ten Rings, behind him, he becomes a warrior-conqueror throughout hundreds of years of history. 

In 1996, he becomes obsessed with locating Ta Lo, a village said to be the home of mythical beasts. He journeys through a magical forest, where the Ta Lo village guardian, Ying Li (Fala Chen), thwarts him. The two fall in love and leave the village, living in peace with their two children. Wenwu’s enemies, the Iron Gang, murder Li, causing Wenwu to resurrect the Ten Rings. He trains his son, Shang-Chi, in martial arts. When Shang-Chi is fourteen years old, his father sends him to avenge his mother’s murder.

The film jumps to present-day San Francisco. Shang-Chi (Simu Liu), now mild-mannered parking valet “Sean,” lives a quiet, unimpressive life, palling around with his best friend, the thrill-seeking Katy (Awkwafina). After an attack by the Ten Rings, Shang-Chi shares his past with Katy, and they journey to Macau in search of Shang-Chi’s sister, Xu Xialing (Meng’er Zhang).

The intersection of legend and legacy, fantasy and family, and the all-important good versus evil follows. Thematically, the writers emphasize the idea that we are all “a product of what came before,” intersecting with the more violent “a blood debt must be paid by blood.” Shang-Chi confronts that he must “face who [he is].” Much of this works because of Simu Liu’s “Who me?” charm growing into a more self-actualized and self-aware individual. With his inherent “watchability” and appealing warmth, he easily carries the film. 

While the supporting roles are underdeveloped, the cast is more than capable. Awkafina makes for an affable sidekick who comes into her own. Leung brings the gravitas with a touch of underlying pain to the patriarch. One wishes that Zhang’s Xialing had been given a bit more dimension as there is a wealth of potential. Her struggle with a sense of childhood abandonment is touched upon but not fully realized. Ben Kingsley reprises Trevor Slattery, a character introduced in the Marvel One Shot short film All Hail the King. Without previous knowledge, this inclusion is a bit off. Kingsley is amusing, especially interacting with the mythical beast, whom he calls “Morris,” but lacking the background, the result is an unfulfilling cameo.

But the true raison d’être of the film is the many action sequences, which range from extraordinary pairings to epic battles. There are enough fights to satisfy the cravings of even the most eager fans. There are battles on a bus, in a fight club, a parking garage, a bar, a field, etc. There is a point where it almost feels like a demented Green Eggs and Ham—“Would you, could you in a …”—and insert a location. But they are all beautifully staged, the more pastoral echoing the landmark Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. 

The CGI is neatly integrated, with a range of hybrid animals and fantastical creations. While, of course, created on a vastly higher level, there are nostalgic shades in the monster encounters, reminiscent of the stop-motion animation of Ray Harryhausen or even the earlier Godzilla movies.

Director Destin Daniel Cretton collaborated on the screenplay with Dave Callaham and Andrew Lanham. And while the dialogue is often stiff and declarative (with a handful of shoehorned wisecracks), the film is busy enough to keep propelling forward. With enough plot and lots of action, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings epitomizes summer fare. And, like the majority of the genre, it will most likely be the first of many in the series.

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

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