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Authors Posts by Jeffrey Sanzel

Jeffrey Sanzel

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Glenn Close and Amy Adams star in film adaptation of best-selling memoir by J.D. Vance. Photo courtesy of Netflix

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In 2016, J.D. Vance published Hillbilly Elegy: A Memoir of a Family and Culture in Crisis. In it Vance examined his family’s Appalachian roots and values and how they affected their lives in Middletown, Ohio. He highlighted the contrast of loyalty and love of country with a history of violence and abuse. The book was an immediate but controversial bestseller.

So overwhelming was the response to his view on what were perceived as myths about poverty, the book Appalachian Reckoning: A Region Responds to Hillbilly Elegy was brought out in 2019.  This collection of essays criticizes Vance’s opinions and generalizations. Over the years, Vance has become a vocal social conservative.

From left, Haley Bennett, Gabriel Basso and Amy Adams in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Netflix

Netflix now offers a film adaptation that basically eschews the more direct political elements of the autobiography and instead focuses on his struggle both as a teenager and a student at Yale. With an engaging if narrow screenplay by Vanessa Taylor and focused direction by Ron Howard, they have chosen to tell a personal story that will still raise many of the questions and complaints resulting from the book.

The film alternates between 1997 and 2011, with the teenage Vance struggling with his home situation and the older Vance working three jobs while attending Yale and attempting to land a summer internship with a law firm in Washington. What ensues over the next two hours is the unwinding of his childhood history along with his present struggles as Vance returns home to once again deal with his volatile mother. In some ways, the film is a blending of the traditional coming-of-age story with the well-trodden dysfunctional family saga.

The film’s strength lies in its performances. Gabriel Basso plays the older Vance with a mix of stoicism and vexation as he tries to navigate his familial responsibility while trying to go advanced his life and career. He believably conveys the battle between past and future. Owen Asztalos, as the younger Vance, is the right mix of hope and disappointment. Both actors appear to be playing the same person which does not always happen in film.

Haley Bennett, as Vance’s sister, shows her love and commitment that is overwhelmed by a sense of weariness. Freida Pinto is fine with the rather unexplored and undeveloped Usha, Vance’s Yale girlfriend (and later wife).

But the film belongs to two compelling performances. Amy Adams is raw and fearless as Vance’s drug-addicted, mercurial mother, a nurse with both substance abuse and mental issues. She alternates between expressions of unconditional love and brutal physical and emotional attacks. It is unlike anything Adams has done prior, with truly visceral pain and rage. (If it all seems a bit too much, that responsibility should be attributed to Taylor and Howard.)

Glenn Close is a gifted actor with technical skills rivaled by very few (Meryl Streep, being one of them). Her performances are usually complete but sometimes there is a sense of the mechanics behind them. In this case, she has completely subsumed herself in the role of Vance’s grandmother. She is unrecognizable as the calculating matriarch with an ugly history (that is only alluded to once) and a presence focused on her grandson’s survival and growth, most importantly through education. In this cold and disconnected woman, Close has found a strange warmth. In stillness and action, when she is on screen, the film is hers.

Many will take exception to Vance’s —and hence the film’s — point-of-view and its simplistic and dubious portrayal of the causes and results of poverty. This is a valid and legitimate concern. However, Hillbilly Elegy is worth watching for the performances of two great American actors.

Rated R, Hillbilly Elegy is currently streaming on Netflix.

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Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“It’s not always about the time, but the place we are in our lives.”

Jeannie Moon’s Christmas in Angel Harbor (Tule Publishing Group, LLC) is a heartfelt romance of love deferred. As with all of her work, she creates engaging characters of charm and honesty. In this case, she has set her novel on Long Island, in the fictional town of Angel Harbor.

Author Jeannie Moon. Photo by Fox Gradin, Celestial Studios

Best-selling author Dan Gallo has returned home after an absence of several decades. It is revealed that his most recent novel inspired a psychopathic true-crime copycat. He has now decided to escape the fast lane and try to catch his breath by writing a more personal novel. He is also a man in search of himself; his quest is for an inner peace that his success has not provided. “He’d learned the hard way that a good life was a collection of small experiences. While big and flashy might impress in the short term, the millions of tiny details about an experience were what mattered.” He settles in with his sister’s family, living in a cottage on the property. He begins to unwind and to come alive.

Jane Fallon is the proprietor of Harbor Books. As a young woman, she had dreams of a world-spanning career in archeology. With her father’s sudden death, she felt obligated to return home to run the family bookstore. “It hadn’t been her dream job, but owning the store brought her many rewards and even more happy moments.” She is grateful for the life she has had — especially close bonds with both her mother, a retired school teacher, and her daughter, Tara. But Moon gives Jane a welcomed complexity: Jill still wonders about the life she could have had and that slight shadow of regret gives her an added dimension.

Throughout high school, Dan had used the table in the bookshop as his writing headquarters. Dan and Jane had been best friends since fifth grade and, while they had never been a couple, their relationship had an emotional intimacy. While Dan was getting ready for law school, Jane indicated that she wanted more. Spooked, Dan disconnected from Jane and the entire Angel Harbor community. Even when Jane’s father passed away, Dan maintained both distance and silence.

And now he has returned. Jane struggles with her feelings but, with great caution, allows him to begin writing at the table once again. “They were bound by an old friendship, and by the shared history of a small town that held one of them back, while the other shot forward.” Needless to say, they begin to rekindle what was snuffed out thirty plus years before.

What is delightful is the innocence of the courtship between two fifty year-olds. There is a sense of wanting to recover what was lost, picking up almost where they left off. Moon gives us a couple that is reminiscent of Our Town’s George and Emily: love and hope and possibility.  “… there was something magical about her, something so centered it was seeping into him. Even as she faced huge changes in her own life, she found a way to focus on others … for the first time since he’d left home all those years ago, he wasn’t on edge.” But their relationship is not without heat, and the pull between them is genuinely strong.

The  story begins two weeks before Thanksgiving and carries through the Christmas holiday. Both Dan and Jane are going through struggles, internal and external. Dan’s current project is outside his comfort zone; he wants to inspire readers and allow his work to be a source of healing.  However, he is facing pressure from his “people” to stay with what works. Jane is facing her mother’s relocation to warmer climes and her daughter’s departure for college the following fall. As always, the store’s survival and growth is always present.

Playing as a backdrop for the story is a wonderful sense of village life in modern times. With shades of nostalgia, Moon finds the richness of a Long Island Christmas, from the perfect pastry to snowfall to walks in the brisk night air. The writing is easy and fluid, with characters rooted in personal realities as well the world she has vividly fashioned for them. It all rings romantically true.

A little past the half-way mark, the real crisis is introduced, throwing Jane’s fate into turmoil. It is not the suspense of what will happen but the painting of the community that rises to the surface. The denouement has shades of It’s a Wonderful Life.

Christmas in Angel Harbor gives us something that we need right now: the joy that can come in the Christmas season. Here is a romance with the sights and sounds but above all the heart that we associate with hope in the holidays. Looking for the gift of a little light in the darkness? This book is just the right present.

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A school librarian by day, and an established author by night, Jeannie Moon has written 17 books to date. Christmas in Angel Harbor is available at bookrevue.com, barnesandnoble.com and amazon.com.

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Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Netflix

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

In 2018, Netflix released The Christmas Chronicles, a warm comedy with a wonderfully edgy center. It followed siblings Kate and Teddy Pierce who almost prevented Santa from making his deliveries. While it had plenty of fantasy, it was rooted in the reality of children coming to terms with the passing of their father, a fireman who died in the line of duty. Each child was struggling in his or her own way but grew from their encounter with Santa.

Darby Camp and Judah Lewis were both understated and grounded as the children, with Darby’s believing sister playing nicely off of the skeptical and borderline delinquent brother. While Kimberly Williams-Paisley, as their mother, Claire, didn’t have much screen time, she managed to impart the difficulty of being a single parent. The heart of the film was Kurt Russell’s Santa, both hilarious and extremely cool. Russell reinvented St. Nick without losing sight of the symbolic heart.

Darby Camp as Kate and Jahzir Bruno as Jack in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Netflix

The first film had a clever, solidly constructed screenplay by Matt Lieberman, complemented by Clay Kaytis’ smart and well-paced direction. It was produced by Chris Columbus who has now taken up the directorial reins for the sequel, The Christmas Chronicles 2, and has co-written the screenplay with Lieberman and Enrico Dante-Mann.

From the beginning, it is apparent that the sequel will take a completely different approach. It opens in a world of cold which is later to be revealed as the North Pole in all its whimsy. It establishes the villain, Belsnickel, and his plot to destroy Santa’s world.

The action then shifts to Mexico. Kate, now a frustrated teen, is unhappy with her mother’s new relationship. The Pierces —Kate, Teddy, and mom — are on vacation in Cancun with mom’s new beau, Bob, and his neurotic son, Jack. These few scenes are stiff and false. They play as the most basic exposition, stating the characters’ intentions, rather than allowing the complications to reveal themselves in context. In every way, it lacks the subtlety, finesse, and honesty of the first movie.

Very quickly, Belsnickel captures Kate (and, accidentally, Jack) and uses them to break the veil of Borealis that protects Santa’s village. Belsnickel makes bold statements about Santa falling into his trap. If he had a mustache, he most certainly would be twirling.

Santa rescues the frozen Kate and Jack, and Mrs. Claus heals them with magic hot chocolate. Santa and the Missus give them a tour of the Village, with elves making toys and candy in shades of Willy Wonka.  Emphasis is placed on the Village’s power source, the Christmas Star that contains a bit of the Star of Bethlehem.

The Clauses allow the children to stay overnight. There is a strange moment when Mrs. Claus, unprompted, decides to tell them the history of Santa Claus, beginning with his origin as a bishop in Turkey, then segueing into elf lore. From there, it gives an account of Belsnickel, a talented but naughty elf who rebelled; his behavior turned him into the thing he despised the most — a human. Again, rather than showing and revealing, his saga was shoehorned into this awkward and rather dark bedtime story.

Belsnickel poisons the elves with elfbane, making them crazy and then steals the star for his own village. He wants to reverse the curse that has been placed on him and sums up his frustration with rather ineloquent “Humans suck; elves rule.” Belsnickel seems to be crafted less as a traditional Christmas antagonist and more as a lesser supervillain.

With the Village no longer powered by the Star, Santa and Kate fly off to Turkey to see the Forest Elves and magical elf elder Hakan (voiced by Malcolm McDowell) to have a new Christmas Star fashioned. Jack remains with Mrs. Claus to solve the elf problem.

Then there is the wormhole that rends the fabric of time, a “spontaneous” musical number in a snowbound airport and featuring a terribly underused Darlene Love, a Nerf crossbow, flame-shooting drones, and a yule-cat that looks like a Saber-toothed tiger … There is a lot of busyness but little focus and even less purpose. Needless to say, it all works out in the end.

Kurt Russell is still delightful in his hip take on the holiday icon but there is less of the wry perspective and surprising magic. Gone is the wonderful, quirky knowingness that was the center of his St. Nick. Goldie Hawn, who had a cameo at the end of the first film, seems uncomfortable as Mrs. Claus, trying to make her both traditional and feminist, magical and maternal. Julian Dennison’s Belsnickel plays what he is given but, of all the characters, his lines are the most wooden; there is potential in his portrayal but the screenplay truly lets him down.

Darby Camp is given the unenviable task of representing every sulky teen and the writers do nothing to help her find the transition to understanding. Jahzir Bruno’s Jack is lifted from any number of sitcoms but he’s likable enough as the nerdy, sensitive sidekick. Judah Lewis, as Teddy, is barely in the film; Kimberly Williams-Paisley (as Kate and Teddy’s mom) even less so. Sunny Suljic has some nice moments and a good reveal in the airport scene, set in 1990 Chicago.

The Christmas Chronicles cleverly shared its message, wrapped up in plot-driven action and sly humor. In The Christmas Chronicles 2, the morals are flatly stated. The comedic elements are forced jokes, and the action is adventure for adventure’s sake. In real life when people announce what they’re going to do and do it, we appreciate that. In movies, not so much.

The Christmas Chronicles 2 is strictly for children (though there is one violent moment involving an attack on one of the reindeer). There is an emphasis on the elves who are extremely cute gremlin-like creatures with their own chattery language. In the first film, they didn’t appear until the end and were a fun surprise. Here, they are wedged into every possible moment, most likely with an eye on marketing their likenesses in plush toys and Happy Meals.

The elves — like the Village, like the reindeer — are CGI. Actually, the entire film seems to be computer generated — add Santa, cute children, a rogue elf, lessons on bravery and decency — compute — and out pops a finished product. What is missing is inspiration and humanity and dimension.

At the center of both films is the idea of being a true believer. The idea is that by believing in Santa, you believe in Christmas,  and by taking Christmas into your heart, you connect with the joy and opportunity in the world. Those are big concepts and good sentiments. In the first film, the idea is nicely baked in; here, the principles aren’t so much integrated as slathered on top like a moral condiment.

Last week, I offered a mixed review of Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey. But the difference is that Jingle Jangle’s intentions are clearer, its goals more connected, and, ultimately, provides a more rewarding experience. Jingle Jangle is problematic but there is the underlying love and wonder. The Christmas Chronicles 2 seems to be locked into the commerce of sequels — the use of a success to sell an inferior product. And perhaps some elfin merchandise.

Rated PG, The Christmas Chronicles 2 is now playing in local theaters and streaming on Netflix.

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The film's opening scene where a brother and sister (Ria Calvin, Kenyah Sandy) ask their grandmother (Phylicia Rashad) to read them a Christmas story. Photo courtesy of Netflix

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Thanksgiving heralds the coming of the Christmas season — which means it is time to revisit the myriad opportunities for holiday viewing. In addition to the many Christmas Carols, there are the popular staples — It’s a Wonderful Life, Miracle on 34th Street, and A Christmas Story. Add to these the innumerable children’s classics — Santa Claus Is Coming to Town, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, Frosty the Snowman — there is viewing for not just days but weeks. And this does not touch on the Hallmark romances, television specials, and “very special Christmas” episodes that seem to populate prime-time.

Filmmakers are constantly looking to add to the tradition, finding something that can become an annual event. Strangely, they have been less successful in the area of musicals, a form that should lend itself to season. Discounting the animated features, the field is pretty thin. For every White Christmas, there is a Mrs. Santa Claus.   

Which brings us to Netflix’s offering, Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey. There are recommendable aspects in this new film but a lackluster and sometimes clumsy script and uneven storytelling gets in the way of its rising to its potential.

Diana Babincova as the younger Jessica Jangle with Justin Cornwell as the younger Jeronicus Jangle. Photo courtesy of Netflix

Jeronicus Jangle is an inventor, toymaker, and proprietor of Jangles and Things. He has just received a component for his latest invention that will change the world of toys. This element brings to life an automaton, Don Juan Diego, a matador doll. Jeronicus goes out to celebrate with his family, leaving his apprentice, Gustafson, in charge.

Gustafson, who feels underappreciated, is tricked by Diego (who doesn’t want to be mass-produced) into absconding with him and Jeronicus’ book of inventions. This choice destroys Jeronicus’ empire; as his fortunes fail, Gustafson becomes a huge success.

Fast forward to Jeronicus as a bitter widower, estranged from his daughter.  He has turned the toy emporium into a pawnshop which is now on the verge of bankruptcy. However, he continues to tinker with the ideas that had given him his start.

Enter his granddaughter Journey, brilliant in her own right, with a burning to desire to bond with her grandfather. Unsurprisingly, she becomes the catalyst for his resurrection and redemption, all centered around a robot called the Buddy 3000. The major conflict arises from Gustafson’s desperate need for a new product. This fuels the action for the latter part of the story.

The energy ranges from hyper-kinetic to meandering. The result is a strange “fast-slow” whereby the plot holes become pronounced. Perhaps they are banking on the younger viewers not seeing them but this is a mistake. Never underestimate the insight and instinct of children. As much as they will enjoy the magic and pageantry, there is a good chance that they will wonder about some of the more unexplained or contradictory moments. Or, even worse, lose interest.

Concepts from other fare — if you believe, you can fly — are borrowed but not transformed.

David E. Talbert is both writer and director, and it might have served the project to have some objective distance to solve the problems. The score is a mix of hip hop, R&B, pop, and a bit of traditional musical theatre. The songs, by Philip Lawrence, Davy Nathan, Michael Diskint, and John Legend, are all serviceable but nothing overly memorable. 

Madalen Mills as Journey, Forest Whitaker as the older Jeronicus Jangle in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Netflix

The choreography is enthusiastically athletic. Ashley Wallen recreates his success with The Greatest Showman’s “This Is Me” with “This Day”— but it seems like all the same and less. The fact that it comes so early in the film is also not helpful: We don’t know who those people are so it is hard to invest.  Sadly, there is no finale whereby Wallen could have once again engaged us — but this time we would have had the knowledge of the journey.

There is no question that the look of Jingle Jangle is a visually rich if overwhelming one.  A cross between benign Steampunk and Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, it is a vibrant world, full of bold colors and brass gears. The costumes (by Michael Wilkinson) are loudly spectacular in their delicious gaudiness. Gavin Bocquet’s production design is clever and creative, mixing steroidal Victorian with just a hint of FAO Schwarz.

Forest Whitaker just manages to nuance Jeronicus beyond a standard Christmas curmudgeon. He commits to the recluse’s petulance but allows us to see the struggle beneath. He also dodges the saccharine trap most associated with these cantankerous characters. He has a light but pleasant singing voice, which is nicely showcased in the ballad “Over and Over.”

Keegan-Michael Key’s adult Gustafson is a sort of villainous Wizard of Oz (right down to the green costume for his entrance). He seems to be having a grand time in the big number “Magic Man G” but sometimes it seems that he is searching for the right tone. He is a gifted comedian and a solid actor but the script doesn’t commit to a character.

Madalen Mills as Journey has a great deal to carry. She has a lovely singing voice and an open, honest persona, believable as the exuberant young genius. She is given a huge solo with “Not the Only One” and truly owns it. Anika Noni Rose, a very strong actor, plays her mother but, unfortunately, does not enter until late in the film — much past the point of introducing a new character with high stakes. Phylicia Rashad adds both elegance and eloquence as the storyteller.

Keegan-Michael Key plays the villain Gustafson in the film. Photo from Netflix

One of the stranger choices is Jeronicus’ love-interest. The romantically aggressive postwoman Ms. Johnston is a bit over-the-top but Lisa Davina Phillip does her best to give her genuine warmth. It is strange that they didn’t opt for an actor who could actually do her own singing; instead, Marisha Wallace provides this with great style. Hugh Bonneville is barely on screen as the banker Mr. Delacroix; one feels that the role could have provided more forward movement if written to be an antagonist, rather than a semi-supportive, minor player.  Ricky Martin is amusing if predictable as the voice of Don Juan Diego.

Jingle Jangle is a pleasant but mixed outing. It’s heart is absolutely in the right place and its messages of family, honesty, and perseverance are welcomed. But, with its convoluted plot and inconsistent pacing, it sadly won’t find a permanent place in annual visits.

Rated PG, Jingle Jangle: A Christmas Journey is now streaming on Netflix.

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Richard Jenkins, Debra Winger and Evan Rachel Wood in a scene from the film.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Currently streaming on demand, Kajillionaire is either a very bleak comedy or a humorously edgy drama. Both disturbing and honest, it is a measured film, taking its time, but it never loses the tension that is introduced from its very first moments. Credit for this goes to the clear vision and masterful creativity of writer-director Miranda July who is working with a company of perfectly cast actors.

Kajillionaire is the story of a family of con artists living a hand-to-mouth existence in California. Robert and Theresa Dyne (Richard Jenkins and Debra Winger) and their twenty-six-year-old daughter, Old Dolio (Evan Rachel Wood), are petty criminals with an emphasis on petty.

Richard Jenkins, Debra Winger and Evan Rachel Wood in a scene from the film.

Robert states flatly that he doesn’t want to be a “kajillionaire” — he’s very happy to just “skim.” Their crimes are predominantly minor, such as stealing from post office boxes or returning stolen goods. They perk-up at the possibility of the daughter earning $20 for covering a girl’s court-ordered attendance at a child-rearing class. They are minimalists in every sense of the word. Currently, they are three months behind on their rent — a $500 a-month office space connected to a soap factory that leaks bubbles into the living space at least once a day.

They are a codependent trio but are completely disconnected. Old Dolio is treated as an equal partner — she gets one third of the take — but strangely not as family. There is no sense of there ever having been parental guidance, interpersonal relationships, or love. Compared to the Dynes, the Kim family of Parasite are the Cleavers.

Everything changes when Old Dolio comes up with a scam that involves lost luggage, insurance, and a trip to New York.  On the return flight, the parents are seated with a gregarious young woman, Melanie (Gina Rodriguez), who they befriend and then enlist to aid them. Robert and Theresa take to her and begin treating Melanie as a daughter. The true dysfunction of this turns much darker as the film progresses, building up to a particularly uncomfortable encounter centered around a hot tub.    

Melanie, an optician’s assistant, is drawn to the family’s off-beat existence and proposes a job that involves finagling antiques out of her elderly clients. In one of the most powerful scenes in the film, a bedridden, dying man (Michael Twaine) asks them to make the sounds of a family. In a hideous lampoon of normalcy, they create idle chatter, underscored with the rattling of silverware and the playing of the piano.

In the meantime, Old Dolio becomes both intrigued by and jealous of Melanie. What starts off adversarial shifts to something almost undefinable, all hinging on a single word: “Hon.” What ensues is both uplifting and devastating as Old Dolio becomes aware of her family’s emotional bankruptcy. The climax is both surprising and inevitable.

Gina Rodriguez and Evan Rachel Wood in a scene from the film.

To be sure, the Dynes are not the colorful cons of Hollywood movies. These are cheaters of the lowest sort, alternating between a sort of manic assuredness and twitchy doubt, second guessing their choices in a life that is a perpetual scrabble. There are also bursts of paranoia that derail them, resulting in flashes of anger. In addition to the minor rip-offs, they are entering contests under various names, winning things that they can never use. They are the definition of survival at its meanest, dragging through their days. This near-deadness is most pronounced in the neglected and, ultimately, emotionally starved and abused daughter.

Jenkins is an odd mixture of alpha and bumbler, a destructive father from hell. And yet seemingly, he is unaware that he is being anything other than kind. He wears so many masks, it is impossible to tell which is the true Robert. It is a detailed performance that bears re-watching.

Winger, practically unrecognizable as Theresa, is the almost fanatically committed wife whose child is nothing more than an appendage. She sees Old Dolio as utilitarian — someone who works with the family. She believes that her daughter is incapable of feeling so invests not even the slightest warmth into their dealings. It is a chilling, understated performance.

Rodriguez brings both charm and reality to Melanie. She makes Melanie incredibly present, a wonderful contrast with the others’ absence. She manages to imbue every moment as an opportunity for growth. While easily engaged, she is not a fool. The light of kindness radiates in Rodriguez’s Melanie. “Most happiness comes from like, dumb things,” she says, while making Old Dolio pancakes, part of a strange agreement that drives the latter part of the film. She understands the joy in even the smallest kindnesses.

But, if it is anyone’s film, it belongs to Evan Rachel Wood. Her ability to portray the pain of the emotionally stunted Old Dolio permeates every moment. She is both incredibly graceful and agonizingly awkward. Her face during the faux family scene for the dying man is a study in heartbreak. Even in her complete stillness, she projects a lifetime of confusion and disappointment. The film is her journey to the awareness of her dangerous addiction to her family.

Kajillionaire is not an easy film to watch. Its edge is as sharp as a scalpel. It is a portrait of an incomplete family at its ugliest. And yet, underneath it all, July finds light and hope in a dark and disturbing world.

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Painting by Vance Locke

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

History Close at Hand has published the noteworthy and informative Setauket and Brookhaven History, a book that relates its story through the murals of Old Field artist Vance Locke (1913-1977). Commissioned by philanthropists Ward and Dorothy Melville as a gift to the community, the murals, completed in 1952, adorn the walls of the Setauket School’s Woodhull Auditorium.

Author Beverly C. Tyler

Beverly C. Tyler’s prose is crisp and his materials are well-chosen, clearly explaining the content of the murals. Throughout, he posits questions to the reader which will prompt further exploration. He often indicates where the reader can see the referenced locations and offers additional resources. He has selected quotes from the late historian William B. Minuse to further develop the narrative. Tyler touches on Locke’s process of conceptualizing and painting as well as his revising to get the correct representations.

One of the first ideas in the book — and a powerful one — is an explanation of Indigenous Culture. Tyler’s recognition bears repeating:

We call the native people who were the first humans to live here Native Americans or American Indians. A more accurate description might be Indigenous People. Everyone else who came, beginning with the English settlers are immigrants. It is important for me (personally) to say, “I wish to acknowledge that I am sitting on the land of the Setalcott Indigenous People in Setauket and I pay respect to the Setalcott people whose land is where I live.”

The murals, along with archaeological studies, have helped piece together the evolution of the changing lives on Long Island. Tyler presents how and when the facts were discovered. The murals progress through time, highlighting farming and millwork, the blacksmith and the shipwright. There is the cutting of ice and the mercantile and the purchase of land. The last is appropriately followed by an explanation that the Setalcotts did not share the same view of land ownership proffered by the English settlers.

The book is about craft and skills, commerce and community. Short anecdotes woven into the chronicle’s fabric augment the comprehensive facts and general text. For example, there is a quick account of the Daisy that sunk from a leak created by beans swelled by seawater, bursting the ship’s hull.

Often, there is the intersection of work and communal gatherings, represented by the uniquely American general store. With each section of the mural, Tyler gives background on the various aspects of day-to-day existence as well its historical relevance. The aspects of general life are enhanced with specific sketches and personal histories that surround a particular topic. Many of the names will be familiar to Long Island denizens. 

The most extended section deals with Setauket’s place in the Revolutionary War — especially George Washington’s Culper Spy Ring which was based in Setauket. In many ways, the first half of the book is building to this, allowing for context of the events.

Tyler uses both primary and secondary sources to enrich his telling of the story, shedding light on the challenges and sacrifices, the humanity and the intrigue. It is appropriately thorough but equally succinct.     

In addition to reprinting the murals in vivid color, there are photos of artifacts as well as the current sites and artifacts, reprints of period maps and documents, and stills of historical recreations. The plethora of illustrations are well-chosen for their interest and variety, and they effectively supplement the text.

Setauket and Brookhaven History is a slender book that is rich in detail and will hold the interest of readers of all ages. The ease of Tyler’s writing belies the hundreds of research hours that undoubtedly went into its creation. This edifying work is ideal to be read aloud and discussed. It will certainly stimulate thought and conversation both in the family and the classroom.

“Murals tell a story, sometimes more than one. Could there be more than one story in this mural?” Tyler gives us a good deal to observe, a great deal to read, and even more to think about it.

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Author Beverly C. Tyler is the historian for the Three Village Historical Society and conducts walking tours and field trips as Revolutionary War farmer and spy Abraham Woodhull. He has appeared on the History Channel’s Histories Mysteries production Spies of the Revolutionary War and writes a local history column for TBR News Media’s Village Times Herald.

Pick up a signed copy of Setauket and Brookhaven History and meet the author at the upcoming outdoor Holiday Market at the Three Village Historical Society, 93 North Country Road, Setauket on Nov. 28, Dec. 5, 12 and 19 from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. The book will also be available at the Three Village Historical Society’s online gift shop at www.TVHS.org in January 2021.

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Emma Roberts and Luke Bracey star in 'Holidate'. Photo courtesy of Netflix

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“Boy, I hope there’s a really unfunny rom-com to kick-off the holiday season,” said no one ever. But that’s what the Netflix offering Holidate delivers. In place of wit, there is … not wit. Holidate is not even worthy of a deprecatingly clever simile.

The premise is simple and has probably been seen dozens of times. That isn’t necessarily a bad thing. There are many plots that have been revisited over the years. The goal, of course, is to find something fresh, unusual, or intriguing in the situation. Unfortunately, Tiffany Paulsen’s terribly clunky, crass script is further exposed by John Whitesell’s clumsy and pedestrian direction.

Emma Roberts and Luke Bracey in a scene from ‘Holidate’
Photo courtesy of Netflix

Holidate opens with Sloane (Emma Roberts) still reeling from her break-up six months prior. She is having a Christmas from hell in which she is plagued by her family’s constant harping on her singlehood. Sloane is offered advice from her man-chasing Aunt Susan (Kristin Chenoweth) to always have someone to date for the holiday. In Susan’s case, she has brought home a mall Santa.

Across town, Jackson (Luke Bracey) is having a nightmare of his own, spending the holiday with the family of a girl whom he has only dated three times. It is apparent that the young woman thinks that they are in a much more serious relationship, one that she has shared with her eager family.

The next day Sloane and Jackson meet on a department store return line. What comes of this chance encounter is an agreement to be “holidates” for New Year’s Eve. There is not a great deal of background given to either characters. He is a golf pro; she works remotely. She eats junk food; he does not. He’s Australian; she isn’t. And they’re off.

Freed of expectations, this “mismatched” couple has a good time on New Year’s Eve. There is a cute send-up of Dirty Dancing, evoking a smile if not a full-on laugh.   The evening ends awkwardly with Sloane deciding it isn’t worth pursuing.

On Valentine’s Day, Sloane runs into her ex with his new, younger girlfriend.  Jackson (who just happens to be walking by the store) rescues her from complete embarrassment by swooping in, pretending to be her significant other. Realizing that the situation will work for them, they agree to be friends without benefits, committing to all calendar celebrations for the foreseeable future.

The film now begins to traverse a year’s worth of holidays: St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Cinco de Mayo, Mother’s Day, etc. Each seems to be centered around drinking and almost — but not quite — having sex. While their friendship grows, Sloane’s mother (Frances Fisher) is desperately trying to set her up with the new neighbor, nice guy doctor Faarooq (Manish Dayal).

Fourth of July is particularly eventful with Jackson having a finger blown off as the men launch M-80’s. Sloane takes him to the hospital (where the Faarooq happens to be on-call). His finger is re-attached. There are the stirring of sparks between Sloane and Jackson. Will they? Won’t they? Do we care?

Since this is a rom-com, they get their wires crossed, resulting in a crisis with a Labor Day wedding where they choose to bring other dates. Sloane takes the doctor; Jackson brings Aunt Susan. (The resulting aunt-doctor hookup at the wedding becomes a subplot that can be kindly described as cringeworthy.)

Halloween sees them taking their relationship to the next step. But not before a disgusting laxative encounter. Thanksgiving shows their divide, with a dramatic confrontation that aims for soul-searching but winds up to be just being embarrassing. And guess what happens at Christmas?

Emma Roberts and Kristin Chenoweth in a scene from ‘Holidate’

None of this would be a problem if the film showed a single spark of originality, charm, or warmth. Holidate instead is consistently tasteless — what is less than single entendre? Basically, it’s watered-down Hallmark with an R rating. A raunchy, crude comedy attempting to make a bigger, heartfelt statement. It achieves being the worst of both worlds. Occasionally, they seem to be sending up the genre but this just confuses and contradicts the majority of the film when they are “being real.” You can’t have it both ways. Or at least they can’t.

The problem is further acerbated by performances that lack subtlety and dimension. Emma Roberts is better than this. Of the cast, she comes across the strongest, but she was given a lot of action but little to play. Luke Bracey is handsome but stiff. Kristin Chenoweth, a truly wonderful performer, is painfully miscast as the vamp; every moment feels excruciatingly forced. If she took the role on to expand her range, she didn’t succeed. If she needed the paycheck, a Go Fund Me would have had more dignity.

The rest of the characters (mostly trope cooky family members) come and go but the director’s complete lack of vision gave no consistent style in which the actors could invest. As a bonus, there are the requisite precocious children who make adult observations and occasionally inappropriate comments.

In the final scene, there was one of maybe three genuinely funny moments in the movie. It involves a Christmas choir at the mall. But one bright note does not a symphony make just as ten clever seconds don’t erase and hour and forty minutes of vulgarity.

Spoiler Alert: Sloane and Jackson end up together. Now you don’t have to watch the movie. You’re welcome.

Holidate is now streaming on Netflix.

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Just in time for the holidays: Ina Garten’s new cookbook is soul-satisfying

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Ina Garten is best known as the host of the television cooking show Barefoot Contessa. On the air since 2002, it is the Food Network’s longest-running show and features Garten preparing multicourse meals, making them accessible for her viewers to recreate at home.

Modern Comfort Food (Penguin Random House/Clarkson Potter) marks her twelfth cookbook, a series of bestsellers that began in 1999 with The Barefoot Contessa Cookbook. Subsequent entries included Barefoot Contessa Foolproof, Barefoot Contessa How Easy Is That?, Barefoot Contessa in Paris, among other successful and popular titles.

Now Garten has turned her focus to comfort food. In these times, it is a welcome entry.  “I often say,” she writes, “that you can be miserable before eating a cookie and you can be miserable after eating a cookie, but you can never miserable while you’re eating a cookie.” This tongue-and-cheek remark sets up this collection of 85 all-new soul-satisfying ensuing recipes divided into six sections:  Cocktails (which is actually dominated by hors d’oeuvres); Lunch; Dinner: Vegetables & Sides; Dessert; and Breakfast.

Tomato & Goat Cheese Crostata

Her take is that food can both celebrate and soothe — whether a birthday cake or a gift to someone who is struggling. “Food can be so much more than simple sustenance.”

Garten acknowledges that comfort food is a very individual taste, often rooted in our earliest memories. To this end, she offers new takes on classic favorites. Her chicken soup (often considered physical and emotional nourishment) is a Chicken Pot Pie Soup. She remembers her mother’s canned split pea soup with cut-up hot dogs; she has taken this idea and created a Split Pea Soup with Crispy Kielbasa. She doesn’t ignore the beloved tuna fish sandwich and offers Ultimate Tuna Melts.

There is the Creamy Tomato Bisque, complimented by the Cheddar and Chutney Grilled Cheese, as the response to the often-sought tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich, the go-to of so many childhoods. Other options include a Lobster BLT and Truffled Mac & Cheese.

The “modern” in the book comes from Garten’s research into the roots of the traditional dish and then re-envisioning and often lightening the recipe, facilitating the cooking, and adding new or different flavors. Ultimately, her goal is “true home cooking but with a twist or update that makes it special enough to serve to company.” The cookbook has some international flavors as she notes that immigrants brought many of their tastes of home with them.

Her “good ingredients” list suggests items that are ideal for the recipes as well as brands to which she has an affinity. “I started calling for specific ingredients because they do make a difference … They don’t have to be expensive but they have to be chosen thoughtfully …”  Salt, in particular, is considered the most important.

No recipe is longer than a single page, with many of them shorter. The list of components rarely goes above a dozen and often contains half of that number. Each recipe is proceeded by a short introduction that personalizes what follows. There is something here for everyone’s tastes — sweet and savory, light and hearty, vegetarian and non. From the simple to the more complicated, the book is carefully presented, with clear and straightforward instructions.

In addition, there are informative interludes between sections. “Staying Engaged” advocates for the power of interaction and socializing over meals; eschewing cellphones and enriching your life by “enjoying one-another’s company face-to-face.” “Evolution of a recipe” shares Garten’s odyssey of creating her version of Boston Cream Pie. She writes with warmth and honesty, citing her challenges and successes. She connects to the readers by dispelling the mystery of cooking and the fear that often accompanies it.

Boston Creme Pie

She also suggests alternate ways to approach more difficult tasks. Hollandaise sauce usually demands a double boiler, a blender, and a good deal of focused time; instead, she presents a simpler take with a bowl, a whisk, and the microwave.

Of course, no cookbook is complete without visual support and there are dozens of vivid color photographs by Quentin Bacon, along with party pictures by Jean-Pierre Uys. These delightful illustrations ably function as a guide to the finished products.

Modern Comfort Food is a welcome addition to an already prolific author’s works. As Garten states:  “Whether you’re a beginning or an experienced cook, these recipes will help you feel confident that you can cook wonderful food for you family and friends and that will bring everyone to your table. And if you end up being happier — and healthier! — because of it, so much the better!”

Modern Comfort Food is available at Book Revue in Huntington, penguinrandomhouse.com, amazon.com and barnesand noble.com.

Photos by Quentin Bacon

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Natalia Dyer and Donna Lynne Champlin in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Vertical Entertainment

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

It is the fall of 2000. It is a world of chunky cellphones, dial-up modems, AOL Instant Messaging, and VHS tapes. Alice (a mesmerizingly authentic Natalia Dyer) is a high school junior in a strict mid-western Catholic school. Written and directed with insight and an incredibly skilled hand, Karen Maine has created an engaging coming-of-age story, Yes, God, Yes. It is both laugh-out-loud funny and brutally honest.

The film opens with a teacher (the wonderfully dour Donna Lynne Champlin) passing out detentions and monitoring the hall like an avenging meter maid. This sets the tone for the emotionally claustrophobic  atmosphere in the school, where abstinence is taught and (seemingly) embraced by the student body. 

What comes to light very quickly is that Alice is the subject of an unsavory rumor about an occurrence at a recent party. The scandal spreads as Alice tries to quell the accusation that she doesn’t fully understand. She is both buoyed up and beaten down by her BFF, Laura (Francesca Reale, bringing just the right amount of acid to this borderline mean girl). Alice is also struggling with her burgeoning awareness of her own sexuality and desires, which further complicate the already challenging situation.

Natalia Dyer in a scene from the film.

The majority of the film takes place on a four-day Kirkos retreat, where the students go to connect with themselves and with their connection to God and their religion. It is here that Alice comes face-to-face with both the caring and sensitivity of some of the students as well as the hypocrisy that often comes with repression.

Guilt and gossip flower along with misinformation. There are some extreme moments and some jaw-dropping revelations. There is also terrific humor. After Alice is punished for holding onto her cellphone, one of the girls gives her a s’more from the campfire she missed: “We pretended each marshmallow was a mortal sin before burning it.”

Maine pulls no punches. She presents these people in all of their flaws. And that is the heart of the film. She creates people and therefore legitimate tension. These are not the cyphers and stereotypes found in many teen movies. Instead, there is an inherent truth in her reflection of this particular corner of the universe.

Not all is played as satirical attack; there are instances of genuine compassion. One of the students leading the retreat, Nina (a warmly present Alisha Boe), tells how she has always felt absent in her large family. It is a touching moment and her sharing is met with sympathy and understanding. Letters from their parents are read out loud. Again, they are not greeted with smirks and eye rolls but appreciated with less embarrassment than would be expected. These are sweet and kind flashes of welcomed contrast.

But even in the midst of this idyllic retreat of finding self, the vicious buzz continues to haunt and chase Alice, leading her to several less than generous choices. Ultimately, she takes some if not all the responsibility one would hope.

Timothy Simons (Veep), as Father Murphy, the spiritual leader of both school and retreat, dodges complete caricature. He has some very questionable actions but there is a sense that, more often than not, he is attempting to do the right thing for these children in his care. He is eventually confronted with his own contradictions but it is not presented as a revenge opportunity but more a look at his personal fallibility.

Alice receives the best and most honest answers when she escapes into a lesbian bar. It is owner Gina (Susan Blackwell, grounded and kind) who gives Alice the best advice she gets the entire film — before bringing her back safely to the retreat.

The entire cast is excellent and the young actors manage to come across as “kids,” even in some of the more excessive sections. But it is Natalia Dyer’s Alice who is the heart and heartbeat of the film. In her life, she is both heroine and her own worst enemy. And Dyer makes every moment work. 

Yes, God, Yes is not for everyone. It is crass in the way that young people are not always careful. It tells some unsavory truths. It is boundary-pushing and often cringe-inducing. But it is a beautiful, dimensional portrait of a genuine young person struggling in a real world.

Rated R, Yes, God, Yes is currently streaming on Netflix.

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Tyler Posey and Donald Sutherland find themselves in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. Photo courtesy of Lionsgate

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Last week, I reviewed the movie Alone, a cat-and-mouse/abduction film. This week, we turn to Alone, a zombie apocalypse movie. This is not the Indian horror film Alone, which follows the angry spirit of a murdered conjoined twin. And it’s highly unlikely that it would be confused with the reality series Alone, that has been running since 2015.

So … this Alone (the zombie one) … is similar to the Korean film #Alive. This would make sense as #Alive’s screenplay was co-written by Matt Naylor, who provided the screenplay for Alone. Both seem to have been cribbed from the 2018 French film The Night Eats the World.

Which brings us back to Alone—the zombie apocalypse one. Director Johnny Martin and writer Matt Naylor have attempted to do something different, with mixed results. They get an A for effort and a B+ for creativity. The visual effects are okay if not spectacular; let’s say a B. Character development is weak even in its best moments — maybe a D+.

The film begins on day 42 of the apocalypse. Aidan (Tyler Posey, who appears in just about every frame of the film) has been video logging during this time, as he announces this to the camera. The next moment, he is seen trying hang himself. Then it flashes back to 42 days earlier, Aidan, sans beard, in bed with … someone. She sneaks out and is never heard from again. Clearly, she is not going to be a major player.

Donald Sutherland in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Lionsgate

He turns on the television to be greeted by the chilling Emergency Broadcast System.  Then all hell breaks loose. There are sounds of yelling and breaking glass; a helicopter crashes; people are running in the streets. A little girl is set upon by shrieking zombies.  His neighbor, Brandon (Robert Ri’chard), who he has never met, stumbles into his apartment; he was just attacked by his roommate. Thus, the set-up.

It is strange that it all happens at once — that there was no warning, no build-up. Especially as the talking heads on the television share that the virus is transmitted through the blood — scratches and bites.  You’d think there would have been some kind of change that led to total destruction … and not insta-zombies. But, these are the cards that we’re dealt.

Aidan realizes Brandon is infected and forces Brandon out as he transforms. He watches the destruction in his hall through the peephole and then just listens to the cries for help and the murderous attacks.

The next stretch involves the disintegration of the world as reflected in the one apartment building. Phone circuits go from busy to dead. Sirens. More yelling and screaming. The infected wander the halls, banging on doors. Aidan counts the days by marking his mirror with a pen. The last advice he gets from his parents before they are murdered (he hears this on a message) is to “Stay Alive.” He puts this on a post-it.

More information is eked out about the virus. The infected only eat living flesh that is uninfected. But, and most interestingly, the zombies are aware of their state. They alternate between attacking and begging for death. It is a struggle between the disease’s power and the victim’s residual humanity. At any given point, they could be demanding “Come here” or warning “Stay way” or begging “Kill me.” This is unique in zombie myth and lore and separates it from the shuffling, brain-eating corpses that have been more prevalent in past outings. There is also something about mob mentality that enters into it but it’s not really clarified.

The power goes out and food is low. Aidan kills a zombie and stuffs it in his bathroom crawlspace, wedging it shut with a surfboard. (Later, the same surfboard will be seen in two other places before he returns to the bathroom where it somehow had remained.)

Eventually, the timeline catches up to where we started. Just as he is about to kill himself, he spots a woman (Summer Spiro) — clearly alive and healthy — in the building across from his. What follows is probably the sole meet-cute in any zombie movie. And, as a bonus, she is surprisingly well-groomed given the whole end-of-the-world thing going on. (Well, maybe a few split-ends but what can you expect?) They begin to communicate with hand-written signs. She is Eva. Aidan and Eva. He holds up: “U R the 1st person I’ve seen.” The Aidan-Eva/Adam-Eve thing is not exactly subtle.

What ensues is their desire to connect and to be together, and it leads him to explore various ways of getting to her. It is during this foray that he meets Edward (the always intriguing Donald Sutherland). Is he good, bad, or just peculiar? The theme of “You take care of the people you love” comes out in an unusual way. Again, the creators’ approach is different and enriches both the encounter and the narrative.

There is mid-range gore which is not excessive but certainly present. (With this amount of ongoing and unchecked carnage and scattered corpses, there would probably be a lot more rot.) There are relatively few jump-out scares, which speaks well to the filmmakers’ restraint, and a handful of well-staged and tense mini-battles.

Where Alone stumbles the most is on actually understanding who these people are. Aidan offers a few pieces of himself that seem to be counter-indicated by everything around him. Eva is barely given a chance to show any range or depth. Both Posey and Spiro do the best they can, but we only invest in them as they are pretty much the last people on earth.

Alone is not the allegory of the low-budget but ground-breaking Night of the Living Dead. It doesn’t strive for the simultaneously introspective and epic nature of the adaptions of Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend (adapted three times). And it lacks the style and kinetic energy of 28 Days Later. But it does try to do something different. For effort and novelty, let’s give it a B- which is not the worst entry in the genre.

Rated R, Alone is streaming on demand.

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