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Authors Posts by Jeffrey Sanzel

Jeffrey Sanzel

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Halle Bailey stars as 'The Little Mermaid'. Photo courtesy of Disney

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Live-action adaptations of Disney cartoons have become commonplace. Cinderella, Aladdin, Dumbo, Mulan, Peter Pan and Wendy, and The Lion King have been reviewed in this paper. Unfortunately, the results have been predominantly tepid. 

The Little Mermaid (1989) remains the gold standard for the cartoon musicals of Disney’s animated renaissance. Written and directed by John Musker and Ron Clements, the film was funny, imaginative, and beautifully designed. The Alan Menken – Howard Ashman songs remain the strongest in the Disney canon, and the film received two Academy Awards: Best Original Score and Best Original Song (“Under the Sea”). The first-rate voice talent included Jodi Benson (Ariel), Christopher Daniel Barnes (Prince Eric), Pat Carroll (Ursula), Kenneth Mars (King Triton), and Samuel E. Wright (Sebastian, the crab). The film became the first animated feature to earn over $100 million.

The 2008 Broadway musical, with a book by Douglas Wright, limped through a year-and-a-half run but found more success in regional, community, and school productions. In 2019, The Wonderful World of Disney broadcast The Little Mermaid Live, an interesting hybrid, where the film was projected and interwoven with live musical performances.

The source for the various Mermaids is Hans Christian Andersen’s 1836 Danish fairy tale. No incarnation considers the tale’s more serious elements, which focus on the nature of the soul building to a moral of redemption. Andersen’s tale ends with the mermaid’s death and ultimate spiritual transcendence, reflecting a more religious denouement. The Disney interpretation is far more prosaic, focusing on earthly love based on (mostly) physical attraction, and struggles to find a message of empowerment. The narrative is one of sacrificing everything—including your voice—for the love of a man you do not know.

Now Broadway director-choreographer Rob Marshall (who helmed the first-rate Chicago film) directs David Magee’s live-action adaptation, a revision of the Clements-Musker screenplay, swollen to 135 minutes, a full 52 minutes over the 1998 running time. The extended length is the major cavil in an otherwise effective film.

Javier Bardem as King Triton. Photo courtesy of Disney

Once again, Ariel is one of the seven daughters of Triton, ruler of the sea. She is fascinated by the world above: “I wanna be where the people are,” sings Ariel in the anthem “Part of Your World.” She becomes entranced by Prince Eric, who she sees onboard a ship that runs afoul of a storm. She saves him, falling in love with the handsome young man. When her father learns of her feelings, his rage drives him to destroy her collection of human artifacts. Distraught, Ariel makes a deal with Ursula, the sea witch. In exchange for her voice, Ariel will be given legs and three days to make Eric fall in love and kiss her. If she fails, she becomes a prize addition to the sea witch’s nightmarish garden.

The story follows the earlier version, with additional background and minor adjustments. It is twenty-one years since the royal family rescued Eric from a shipwreck. Unlike his late adopted father, the king, Eric wants to be a ruler for and among the people and venture beyond the island. In addition, there is a clear suspicion between the land and sea dwellers. The queen is vocal in her distrust of the “sea gods.” Both communities blame the other for the damage of shipwrecks. The political overtones resulting from this friction is  lost for most of the film, only to return at the end. 

A scene from ‘The Little Mermaid’. Photo courtesy of Disney

A scene in the marketplace demonstrates the joy of legs/feet/dancing (and an opportunity for a cameo by original Ariel Benson). Additionally, Ursula is Triton’s younger sister, upping the revenge quotient. One major—and welcomed change: as part of the spell, Ariel forgets that she must kiss Eric. This enables a more organic growth of their love. 

Most of the new Mermaid follows the original, often shot-for-shot, and here it succeeds best. The shortcomings are few: Truncating both “Poor Unfortunate Souls” and “Kiss the Girl” is disappointing, and the few new songs (written with Lin-Manuel Miranda) add little. The creation of Ariel’s crab, bird, and fish cohorts have an odd flatness, but eventually one gets used to them.

Marshall makes the musical highlight, “Under the Sea,” less whimsical but joyous in a new way. The director utilized Alvin Ailey dancers as templates for creating this photoreal experience. (Much of the film hovers between Jacques Cousteau and CGI.)

Scuttle (voiced by Awkafina), Flounder (voiced by Jacob Tremblay) and Ariel (Halle Bailey), in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Disney

Halle Bailey is a luminous Ariel. With a beautiful voice and a knowing presence, she elevates and dimensionalizes the mermaid. Whether singing or just communicating with her eyes, each moment and every gesture ring true. She is a worthy addition to the pantheon of princesses. Jonah Hauer-King makes for a pleasant, if mild, Prince Eric. Given the strength of Bailey’s Ariel, this seems intentional. Melissa McCarthy, channeling Pat Carroll, is a triumph, perfectly balancing traditional Disney villainy with contemporary side comments. Javier Bardem appropriately broods as Ariel’s frustrated father, lending a Tevye quality to his Triton. 

Noma Dumezweni, as the newly introduced Queen Selina, seems like a benign refugee from Bridgerton; however, Dumezweni is a strong actor and brings warmth and strength to her limited role. Art Malik humanizes Grimsby, Eric’s keeper and confidant. Daveed Diggs’ delightful Sebastian offers a less neurotic but highly entertaining crab. Awkwafina finds a new and fun approach to the chatterbox Scuttle, no longer a seagull but a diving bird. Special mention goes to Jessica Alexander, whose brief appearance as Vanessa, Ursula’s human alter ego, easily shifts from charming to maniacal. 

From the pastoral underwater opening to the Clash of the Titans climax, The Little Mermaid does what few Disney remakes have done: it rightfully earns a place next to its dazzling original. Rated PG, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Michael J. Fox in a scene from 'Still.' Photo courtesy of Apple TV

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“A short kid from a Canadian army base becomes the international pop culture darling of the 1980s—only to find the course of his life altered by a stunning diagnosis. What happens when an incurable optimist confronts an incurable disease?”

— Tagline to Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie

Few people do not recognize Michael J. Fox. Fox (born 1961) launched into the public eye with the sitcom Family Ties (1982-89), in which he played Alex P. Keaton, the conservative son in a liberal family. From there, his star rose quickly with the Back to the Future trilogy (1985-1990), followed by Teen Wolf (1985), The Secret of My Success (1987), Doc Hollywood (1991), and others. Then, in 1996, he returned to the small screen with Spin City.

Fox combined a youthful sureness with the charm of a latter-day Jimmy Stewart, a genuine aw-shucks quality absent of artifice. Even in lesser vehicles, he offered strong, grounded performances.

During the run of Spin City, Fox went public with his Parkinson’s disease diagnosis. He became an advocate and spokesperson, establishing the Michael J. Fox Foundation in 2000, a not-for-profit focusing on research for a cure. Throughout the early 2000s, he continued to work—mostly guest spots and a few recurring roles. His last major undertaking was the semi-autobiographical The Michael J. Fox Show (2013-2013), an NBC comedy in which he played news anchor Mike Henry who gave up his career due to the same diagnosis. Following his official retirement in 2020, Fox published a memoir, No Time Like the Future: An Optimist Considers Mortality. 

Michael J. Fox and his wife Tracy Pollan met on the set of ‘Family Ties’ in 1985. Photo courtesy of Apple TV

Fox received numerous nominations, and among his accolades are Golden Globes, Emmys, and People’s Choice Awards. He met his wife, Tracy Pollan, when she appeared as his girlfriend on Family Ties. The pair married in 1988 and have four children. 

Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie chronicles Fox’s life and career. It opens with Fox having spent a drunken night with Woody Harrelson. He finds the pinky of his left hand trembling, a harbinger of what is to come. The film embarks on a chronological telling of his story, with present-day Fox commenting on his rise to fame, stardom, diagnosis, and aftermath. First, he is shown as a child in constant movement, then as a reluctant student and “serial fender bender.” He dropped out of school and went to Hollywood with his father’s help. Given his diminutive stature, he landed a series of small guest spots as much younger characters. Finally, Family Ties changed his entire trajectory.

The film follows Fox through the highs and lows, medication, alcoholism (now thirty years sober), intense work schedules, critical successes, and box office disappointments. The actor is forthcoming about his courtship and marriage to Pollan, raising children, and realization of the importance of family, especially after his diagnosis. “I was the boy prince of Hollywood. But it was an illusion.”

Director Davis  Guggenheim (An Inconvenient Truth, He Named Me Malala, Waiting for Superman) creates a hybrid of straight documentary and something akin to Behind the Music via True Crime Network. Most of the film is a series of interviews with Fox, sitting at a table, talking directly to the camera. In addition, he interacts with his family and physical therapists. The rest of the documentary comprises film clips from his movies and television shows, sometimes shown in context, other times coopted for emphasis. 

In addition, Guggenheim films  stand-ins for Fox and others over-the-shoulder shots, at a distance, or blurred, with music blaring during these peripatetic sections. Whether they are for contrast or effect is hard to discern. 

Where Still succeeds is in the one-on-one conversations with Fox, which fortunately occupy at least fifty percent. The camera is placed straight on with no music or fanfare. The focus remains solely on Fox as he answers the most personal questions. Sometimes, he physically struggles. Other times, he reflects before coming back with a revelation or a quip. 

Throughout his illness, he has fallen many times, shattering his cheek and breaking his hand. Philosophically, he retorts, “Gravity is real. Even when I’m falling from my height.” He is seen falling—but also getting back up. Fox appears open, raw, and completely honest.

From the very beginning, the documentary is unflinching. Fox reveals himself as he is: constantly off-balance, with uncontrollable spasms and involuntary movements, moments of freezing, and the sense of what is permanently lost. But his humor bubbles to the surface. “If I’m here twenty years from now, I’ll either be cured or a pickle.”

At one point, he is asked what it is like to be still. He takes a moment, then responds, “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been still.” And while true, Still: A Michael J. Fox Movie captures not just the Hollywood icon but an intimate, bold, and uplifting portrait of an extraordinary human being.

The documentary is currently streaming on Apple TV.

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'Shadows We Carry'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Meryl Ain’s debut novel, The Takeaway Men (2020), focused on immigrants Aron and Edyta (Judy) Lubinksi and their twin daughters, Bronka and Johanna. Refugees from Hitler’s Europe, the family settles with Aron’s cousins in Bellerose, Queens. 

Author Meryl Ain

The absorbing story traced their struggles with adjusting to the new world and the burdens and guilt related to survival. Dealing with both the aftermath of the Nazi genocide and the rising Red Scare during the Cold War, The Takeaway Men offered a vivid portrait of a family in transition and ends in 1962.

Ain’s sequel, Shadows We Carry (SparkPress) picks up a year later for a brief prologue on the day of President Kennedy’s assignation. As the teenage Bronka states: “This is the end of the world … Nothing will ever be the same again.” 

In Shadows We Carry, Ain focuses on Bronka, the more serious of the twins. The narrative follows the young woman’s journey from the late 1960s to the early 1980s. Ain once again displays her deft gift for presenting the intersection of historical events and cultural awareness. 

The sisters are a portrait in contrast. Bronka studies history and political science, aspiring to a career in journalism. Johanna (called “JoJo”) studies music education but has no desire to teach. However, her musical theatre dreams are derailed by a pregnancy, leading to an alternately fulfilling and frustrating married life.

Bronka’s odyssey takes her through a range of personal and professional obstacles. A well-drawn character, complicated yet likable, she is a good but flawed individual, often getting in her own way—a case of wrong for the right reasons. Even with her strong Jewish identity, she tends to seek romance with unavailable men. The first is Ned, the Queen’s College newspaper editor-in-chief and a graduating senior. Later, she falls for a priest, the charismatic Father Stan. Even more importantly, Bronka represents the pull between career and homemaking: her passion for making a life in the news world versus her desire for a traditional family constantly battles. 

Shadows We Carry also emphasizes the age of rebellion, reflecting an era of burgeoning self-discovery. Bronka’s neighbor and lifelong friend, Mindy, a middle-class version of anti-establishment, confronts Bronka with a hard truth: “Look, my mother and Tina Rosen and her sisters will all end up in boxes. It’s up to you whether you do or not. I think both of you could go either way. But I sure as hell will not. I’m going to find a different path. But first, I have to find out who I really am.”

In search of self, Bronka is unsure of her niche. Too intellectually curious to accept a narrow conservative marriage, she is conversely uncomfortable with the free-love, drug-taking hippie element. She constantly faces less than thinly veiled chauvinism and misogyny. 

Ain’s gift is the ability to veer from domestic drama to social and political issues. Whether addressing the mother’s Catholic heritage but embracement of Judaism (or the priest’s mirrored journey), she delves into the psychological turmoil of her characters. 

Mother Judy clings to an outdated vision of what women can be, subsuming her dreams to the needs of her often taciturn and haunted husband, Aron. Residuals of the Communist Witch Hunt and the search for Nazi War criminals play out against the age of the Viet Nam War. 

Canvassing for Eugene McCarthy, along with the assassinations of Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy, are affecting milestones. The beginning of the AIDS crisis is touched upon in a subtle but powerful stroke.

An interesting event occurs in 1973 when Bronka covers the renaming of the Nazi streets in Yaphank’s Fatherland Gardens. She is accompanied by a photographer unaware of his father’s direct connection to Auschwitz. 

If The Takeaway Men focuses on the immigrant experience in the post-1945 world, then Shadows We Carry highlights the assimilating America of the 1960s and early 1970s. Its quick, taut chapters reflect the peripatetic and energetic pacing of the latter part of the 20th century. A book of identity, it asks the twin questions “Can you ever escape history?” and “Can you ever escape your history?” 

A smart and welcome coming-of-age novel, Shadows We Carry is available on Amazon.com.

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Ashley Brooke and Bel Powley in a scene from 'A Small Light'. Photo from NatGeo

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

‘But even an ordinary secretary or a housewife or a teenager can, within their own small ways, turn on a small light in a dark room.’ — Miep Gies

No figure is more iconic than Anne Frank. Whether seen as an ordinary girl in extraordinary times, or a remarkable individual robbed of her potential, her short life and terrible death epitomize the darkest era of the twentieth century. And while her memory transcends decades, she should be remembered as a person with hopes and aspirations, feelings, and foibles. Anne Frank was not a symbol; she was a human being.

The Diary of a Young Girl—often called The Diary of Anne Frank—appeared in its original Dutch in 1947. The first English translation, Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl, was published in 1952. 

Bel Powley shines in her role as Miep Gies in A Small Light. Photo courtesy of Nat Geo

The diary was given to Anne as a thirteenth birthday present on June 12, 1942. She chronicled her life in this book and two school exercise books. On March 29, 1944, she listened to a London radio broadcast by the exiled Dutch Minister for Education calling for the preservation of “ordinary documents … simple everyday material” as a testimony to the plight of Dutch civilians under the Nazi regime. She began revising the entries with this in mind. Her final entry was on August 1, 1944, three days before her arrest and deportation. Miep Gies and Bep Voskuijl, two of the brave people who helped hide the Frank family, saved the loose pages of the manuscript. After the war, they gave the papers to the only surviving occupant of the attic, Anne’s father, Otto.

A stage adaptation premiered on Broadway on October 5, 1955. Adapted by Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett (supposedly handpicked by playwright Lillian Hellman), the well-received production emphasized the hopeful aspects, highlighting (but perhaps ignoring true context) the signature quote: “Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.” 

In 1959, this version was brought to the screen in the equally lauded version. It was not until 1997, when Wendy Kesselman revised and re-envisioned the play, there was an Anne Frank properly representing the true darkness and struggle, divesting itself from the earlier incarnation’s occasional saccharine. The BBC produced a television film in 2019 with an entirely new script.

Of the cinematic incarnations, the most powerful is Anne Frank: The Whole Story (2001). Due to a conflict between the producers and the Anne Frank Foundation, the creators were denied access to quote Anne Frank’s writings. Instead, according to producer David Kappes (in a private interview), the ninety-year-old Miep Gies was used as a primary source to tell Frank’s history. (Gies passed away in January 2010 at 100.) This account takes Anne beyond the annex, following her through deportation to the Westerbork transit camp, transport to Auschwitz, and finally, her death in Bergen-Belsen.

Gies told her story in the memoir Anne Frank Remembered: The Story of the Woman Who Helped to Hide the Frank Family (1987). Subsequently, she was featured in the Academy Award-winning documentary Anne Frank Remembered (1995). 

[The following is based on a viewing of the first two episodes of A Small Light.] 

Now, National Geographic has produced A Small Light, an eight part miniseries streaming on Disney+ and Hulu. This begs whether there is a need for another screen version of the story. If it is A Small Light, the answer is a resounding “yes.” 

Masterfully directed by Susanna Fogel (from a screenplay by Tony Phelan, Joan Rater, William Harper, and Ben Esler), A Small Light takes Miep Gies from the sidelines. It presents her center in a wholly realized and beautifully dimensional account. The series is an inversion of previous Anne Frank stories. Rather than the claustrophobic fear of being surrounded by the horrors of the outside, this is the terror of living day-to-day in a world with danger at every corner and every turn.

Episode one opens in 1942. Miep Gies (Bel Powley) bicycles with a frightened Margot Frank (Ashley Brooke) through the streets of an idyllic Amsterdam festooned with Nazi banners interspersed with “Resist” graffiti. Miep is attempting to get Margot through a Nazi checkpoint. The scene is taut, tense, and done in quick, sharp cuts.

Before they reach the front of the line, the action shifts back to 1933. After a night of drinking, Miep joins her large, adopted family for lunch, having slept until 2 p.m. Her frustrated parents suggest that if she cannot find a job, she marry her adopted brother (who, unbeknownst to his parents, is gay). Miep lives a leisurely, almost bucolic life. 

After an awkward interview, Otto Frank (Liev Shreiber) engages the unskilled Miep as a secretary. Brash and temperamental, she still learns the business and begins to find her place in the organization. Life goes along with Miep meeting her eventual husband, the shy Jan (Joe Cole), in a bar. 

On May 10, 1940, the Nazis invaded the Netherlands. Within five days, they had taken over the country. Laws change, and the harsh Nazi abuse transforms into greater crimes. (It is not until the middle of episode two that we see the brutality of the round-ups.) The infamous yellow star appears on clothing. 

Eventually, Otto shares the plan of taking his family, along with his employee Hermann Van Pels’ family, into hiding and asks for Miep’s help, to which she immediately agrees. However, Otto changes the moving date when his older daughter Margot receives deportation papers. The first episode returns to the opening scene as Miep gets Margot through the checkpoint and into the annex, the first glimpse of the hiding place.

The second episode shows the earliest days of the new life. On the inside, attitudes are already fraying as the Franks attempt to adapt. Miep must deal with the already frustrated and often frustrating individuals living like prisoners. She also faces the challenges of keeping the secret as well as finding food, ration books, etc. Husband Jan aids Miep but also begins his own journey to help the persecuted. This episode ends with the dentist, Fritz Pfeffer (Noah Taylor), completing the members of the attic.

The cast is uniformly exceptional. Liev Schreiber makes for a slightly mercurial but effective and compassionate Otto. Amira Casar’s Edith Frank is a stronger, more demanding Edith. Billie Boullet is an exceptional Anne, shining and passionate but grounded in reality. Ashley Brooke hits the right gentle notes as the reserved Margot. Joe Cole grows Jan throughout, going from reticence to strength with a charm that comes through.

But the center is Bel Powley’s exceptional Miep. She grows from the lackadaisical party girl and reluctant employee to a ferocious, committed portrait of real courage. Whether flirting with a butcher to get a better chicken or resigned to revealing the true situation outside the attic walls, her reality and depth are flawless.

From an educational standpoint, the series is invaluable. The current curriculum rightfully deals with turning bystanders into upstanders and changing the bullying narrative. Miep Gies reminds us never to stand by; as individuals, we must choose to make a difference. We must do more and must do better. For that alone, her story is beyond important. The fact that A Small Light is art presented with raw integrity elevates the message to a higher level.

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A scene from 'Peter Pan and Wendy' Photo from Disney +

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Peter Pan traces his roots back to 1902. Created by Scottish author J.M. Barrie, the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up first appeared in The Little White Bird before being placed center stage in Barrie’s play, Peter Pan (1904). In many stage incarnations, Peter was most often played by a young-looking actress, notably Maud Adams, Mary Martin (the 1954 Broadway musical broadcast on television), Sandy Duncan, and Kathy Rigby. 

Alexander Molony as Peter Pan. Photo from Disney +

There are dozens of cinematic adaptations, both animated and live-action. The story has been revisited and reinvented from the 1924 silent film, spanning Disney’s memorable (and, for many, definitive) 1953 cartoon, to Robin William’s grown Peter in Hook (1991). Captain Hooks have included Boris Karloff, Hans Conried, Jason Isaacs, Stanley Tucci, and Dustin Hoffman.

Now, Peter Pan and Wendy arrives on Disney+. Based on the Barrie source and Disney’s animated feature, the film’s first half covers no new ground, with the opening scene remain predictably problematic. The standard exposition remains the same, showing the Darlings in the early nineteenth-century nursery. The children play pirates, resist bedtime, the mother sings a lullaby, etc. The new piece is Wendy, the eldest child, being sent away to boarding school, something in which she has no interest. Wendy is frustrated by life’s changes, and she makes the wish never to grow up. A vague nod towards the theme of time threads through the opening and carries lightly throughout. 

Ever Anderson as Wendy in a scene from ‘Peter Pan and Wendy’. Photo courtesy of Disney +

The first half of the film feels like a musical without the songs. Each section builds but never quite reaches a climax before shifting to the next moment. Because it offers little original to the well-trod story, the action treads water. However, director David Lowery (who has penned the screenplay with Toby Halbrooks) accelerates the plot by having the pirate’s capture of the children moved to their arrival in Neverland. This allows for a slightly more original second half with a new point of view. 

The emphasis in Peter Pan and Wendy is a message of female empowerment, with the most self-actualized Wendy to date. Here, the protagonist works with a misunderstood Tinker Bell and a re-envisioned Princess Tiger Lily. This Peter Pan is truly the story of Wendy Darling, and where it places this focus, it soars. In addition, there are as many girls as boys in Peter’s tribe, and even a few female pirates. The creators present an overall welcome diversity that feels in no way forced and celebrates both the freedom of fantasy and the changing times.

Jude Law as Captain Hook. Photo from Disney +

Also introduced is a revised history of Peter and Captain Hook. Revealed is the friendship between the young Hook—James—and Peter. James left Neverland to search for his mother, creating a schism between them. Hook failed to reconnect with his parent and was rescued and recruited by the pirates, quickly ascending to captainship. The narrative is a bit convoluted, but once clarified, it provides a certain understanding between the enemies and an almost cathartic resolution.

Alexander Molony is a subdued Peter Pan, stronger in the quiet moments but hesitant in the more bombastic. Perhaps, Lowery chose this approach to highlight Wendy’s independence and maturation. Ever Anderson’s Wendy starts hesitantly but builds in power, stature, and depth in the character’s arc. Anderson easily avoids precociousness, offering a likable, humorous, and resourceful center.

Jude Law presents a less flamboyant Captain Hook but cleverly mines the subtlety. His Hook is smoothly wicked yet introspective, genuinely bloodthirsty, and wholly believable, finally owning the character in his unique approach. The underlying sadness enriches his Hook/James. Barely recognizable, Jim Gaffigan eschews the expectation of an over-the-top Smee and leans towards charmingly underplaying. Alyssa Wapanatâhk and Yara Shahidi do their best with the underwritten Tiger Lily and Tinker Bell, with Shahidi’s final interaction with Wendy strongly resonating.

Jim Gaffigan as See. Photo from Disney +

The almost traditional screenplay has flashes of wit, but more would have been welcome. Peter Pan and Wendy is visually striking, with a darker but evocative palate provided by cinematographer Bojan Bazelli and production designer Jade Healy. The flying effects feel natural, and the sword fighting well-staged. Daniel Hart composed a score that neatly blends traditional “Disney adventure” with a hint of New Age. Cleverly, a running joke makes use of The Pirates of Penzance.

It remains to be seen where this version will land. Compared unfavorably to the popular Robin Williams — Dustin Hoffman Hook? Placed ahead of the disastrous 2014 live event (with Allison Williams and Christopher Walken)? Or left in the forgotten netherworld of the 1976 television special (with Mia Farrow and Danny Kaye)? In the meantime, a handsome, mostly engaging, but somewhat uneven Peter Pan and Wendy will fly across screens for the present.

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

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Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Honor the past. Embrace the present. Look to the future.

Beverly C. Tyler is the author of multiple works focusing on local history. These include Founders Day, Down the Ways—The Wooden Ship Era, and Setauket and Brookhaven History (all reviewed in this paper). Tyler now turns his eye to a detailed history of Setauket’s Caroline Episcopal Church, which is celebrating its 300th anniversary this year.

Front cover of book

The book is an excellent blend of the historical and the personal. In one- and two-page sections, Tyler covers everything from the church’s construction to its pastoral care ministry. Sunday school, past and present, and the church’s choir are presented. Tyler traverses the many milestones centered around religious, societal life: baptisms, confirmations, marriages, and funerals. The many facets of the church—Bible study, eucharist, caregiver and grief support groups—are all mentioned. Caroline Church is a rich resource for those connected to the church and may also serve as a model for those looking to preserve a civic organization. Detailed lists and a plethora of dates are neatly organized throughout the entire volume. 

The book shares letters from clergy alongside personal reflections. In his message, Reverend Canon Richard Visconti expresses his gratitude for his connection to Caroline Church: “Your faithfulness in worship, your extension of Christ’s healing touch to a broken world within the community, year after, is a testimony to the goodness and blessing of God … May Caroline Church continue to grow in its mission to help all live transformed lives for Christ.” The Rev. Nickolas Clay Griffith suggests to have “one foot planted in the Anglican tradition and the other foot working to … reach for the opportunities where we can be people of Christ in the world today.”  

Parishioners tell of what drew them to the church (or, in some cases, back to it). The theme of family is often celebrated. Given two full pages is “Caroline During COVID.” This chronicle shows how the church adapted and persevered in a challenging and difficult time where streaming and social distancing became the necessary norm. 

Back cover of book

Rev. Sharon Sheridan Hausman strikes a gardening metaphor in her piece, referencing growth in “vines,” “seeds,” and “root.” Colleen Cash-Madeira opens with the Swedish saying, “Even the devil gets religion in old age.” The twenty-nine-year-old then discusses church attendance as “exposure to a set of tools: faith, hope, compassion, community.” 

Tyler gives an in-depth but concise history of the inception of Caroline Church. In “How It All Began,” he starts at the end of the seventeenth century and continues through 1730.

Cleverly, the author has inserted a timeline ribbon across the top of each page. He begins on April 14, 1655, with the English settlement of the town of Setauket. The entries culminate in 2021, with the installation of Rev. Griffith; Camp DeWolfe’s celebration of its seventy-fifth anniversary (2022); and the church’s marking of its third century (2023).

And like with all of Tyler’s previous works, the book is replete with hundreds of photos as well as historical paintings and sketches. The images alone carry much of the church’s story. The last page is particularly fascinating: a re-imagined eighteenth-century prayer service, shown in six photos, including video projections.

Perhaps the best summation is in Henry Hull’s final couplets of An Ode to Caroline Church:

So here’s to the Clergy and Vestries, too

They have led all the flocks of communicants who

Have passed through the portal of dear Caroline

And have lived, loved and learned in a way most divine.

Copies of the book are available for sale at the Caroline Episcopal Church office, 1 Dyke Road, Setauket. For more information, please call 631-941-4245. 

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From left, Rachel McAdams and Abby Ryder Fortson in a scene from the film. Photo by Dana Hawley/Lionsgate

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

No writer has been more heralded nor adored than Judy Blume. Author of over two dozen novels, she debuted with the children’s book The One in the Middle Is the Green Kangaroo (1969) and followed up with Iggie’s House (1970). But her third book—Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret—truly launched her career. Others include a combination of works for children (Tales of Fourth Grade Nothing, Otherwise Know as Sheila the Great, Blubber), young adults (Then Again, Maybe I Won’t, Deenie, Forever …), and adults (Wifey, Summer Sisters, It’s an Unlikely Event). 

 

Kathy Bates and Abby Ryder Fortson in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Lionsgate

Only a handful of Blume’s works have made it to the screen: Forever, Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great, Tiger Eyes, and a television series based on Fudge-a-Mania. Now Kelly Freemon Craig, who wrote and directed the 2016 coming-of-age dramedy The Edge of Seventeen, helms the big screen version of Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. Craig has fashioned an agreeable, appropriately gentle, and predominantly loyal adaptation. 

The film opens with a montage of twelve-year-old Margaret Simon’s (Abby Ryder Fortson) last days at a New Hampshire girls’ camp. Upon her return to New York City, her parents, Barbara and Herb (Rachel McAdams and Benny Safdie), inform her that her father’s work promotion has enabled the family’s move to New Jersey. Unsurprisingly, Margaret and her paternal grandmother, Sylvia (Kathy Bates), are unhappy with the turn of events.

Quickly, though, Margaret settles into a suburban world of backyards and sprinklers. She is not so much greeted but assaulted by neighbor and fellow sixth-grader Nancy Wheeler (Elle Graham). Nancy, an alpha and mean-girl-in-training, gathers Margaret into her close and closed-friend group, Janie (Amari Alexis Price) and Gretchen (Katherine Kupferer). 

Margaret’s realm revolves around school, boys, and family. It is an analog world without the technical hurdles of later generations (with not even a television in sight). Often, the atmosphere has a sixties vibe—most notably Nancy’s Stepford mother (Kate MacCluggage), who seems a refugee from the 1950s. 

Abby Ryder Fortson in a scene from the film.Photo courtesy of Lionsgate

In the book, Margaret’s dilemmas were split equally between her religious identity crisis and her body’s burgeoning changes. When Barbara and Herb married, Barbara’s parents were so distraught over her having a Jewish husband they cut off all connection. Barbara and Herb decided to raise Margaret with no religion, telling their daughter to decide when she was old enough. Much of Margaret’s quest in the book is sampling Jewish and Christian experiences.

The struggle remains present in the film, but Craig emphasizes Margaret’s focus on her impending physical transitions. The girls’ discussions are neatly taken from the book, creating believable interactions. In fact, much of the dialogue—including the quartet’s memorable chant—is smartly lifted verbatim. 

The film and its tone occasionally nod towards twenty-first-century political correctness, but nothing hampers the storytelling. The biggest departure is Barbara leaving her job now that they have left the City. In the book, she is a housewife who paints less-than-successful pictures of fruit. Here, she is an edgier artist and art teacher searching for a place in this new life. At first, she tries to integrate into the new community but must ultimately find herself again. In doing this, Rachel McAdams’ Barbara is a more dimensional, if modern, character than her literary counterpart. 

Rachel McAdams, Benny Sadie and Abby Ryder Fortson in a scene from the film. Photo by Lionsgate

Abby Ryder Forston easily holds center in an honest and realistic portrayal of a preadolescent. Whether she is mooning over the boy who cuts the grass or asking God for guidance, she remains grounded and unshowy. McAdams, always strong, makes the most of the two sides of Barbara and connects with the character’s trials. Safdie is kind and present as the father, while Bates humorously blends West Side polish with Jewish guilt. Special mention of Graham, whose toxic delivery of the line, “I live in the bigger house up the street,” speaks volumes to Nancy’s self-assurance. Echo Kellum leans towards charming rather than bumbling as the first-year teacher, Mr. Benedict.

One surprising film deviation is Margaret’s lack of awareness regarding the schism between her mother and grandparents. The choice ratchets up the immediacy of the conflict with their visit late in the story. (The scene clumsily includes Sylvia and her beau, absent from the book’s confrontation.) While dramatic, it undermines Barbara and Herb’s honesty with their child. In addition, the bullying of the more physically mature outsider Laura Danker (subtle and pained as played by Isol Young) ends in a kinder, if less realistic, resolution. 

Had Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret been made fifty years ago—or even forty or thirty—its impact would have possessed more resonance. The film’s quaintness dulls some of the novel’s powerful edges, leaning toward nostalgia rather than reflection. However, one suspects viewing the film will be an experience for mothers and daughters (and granddaughters) to connect with a coming-of-age that has spanned multiple generations. Those looking to revisit a favorite tale told with integrity will welcome this faithful adaptation.

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

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

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is Champions exploitive? 

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

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

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

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

Rated PG, Champions is now playing in local theaters.

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

By Tim Haggerty and Jeffrey Sanzel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A few shoutouts:

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

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

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