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Jeffrey Sanzel

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From left, Lorraine Bracco, Talia Shire, Brenda Vaccaro and Vince Vaughn in a scene from 'Nonnas'. Photo by Jeong Park/Netflix

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

At Enoteca Maria we celebrate cultural diversity by serving cuisines from around the world, but we do it in the most uniquely authentic way possible. Real grandmothers from every country across the globe are invited and hired as chefs to cook the recipes handed down to them that they cook at home for their families, that make up the fabric of the culture they were born and raised in. We aspire to build cultural connections through the universal language of cooking […].

Culture is a resource worth preserving. After all a tree can’t grow and change without its roots. 

— from the Enoteca Maria website

In Nonnas, Netflix offers a highly fictionalized but loving celebration of Joe Scravella’s Staten Island restaurant, Enoteca Maria. Novelist-turned filmmaker Stephen Chboksy leaves his edge behind in directing Liz Maccie’s by-the-numbers screenplay and presents a heartfelt but wholly predictable salute to family and food.

The film opens with young Joe (Theodore Helm) and a Sunday dinner in Brooklyn, watching his mother and grandmother in the kitchen, while the extended clan eats, sings, and dances in the living room. Observing his grandmother add ingredients to the sauce pot, the boy asks, “How do you know how much to use?” His grandmother responds: “You feel it in your heart. You put in your heart.” The rest of Nonnas’ two hours fall along the same line in simplicity and intent.

The story fast forwards several decades. The grown Joe (Vince Vaughn) has lost his mother to cancer. Saddened and more than a little broken, he stares into the emptiness stretching before him. After some emotional struggle, he uses the two hundred thousand dollars inherited from his mother’s insurance policy to open a restaurant to honor her memory. His concept is simple: he will hire “nonnas” (Italian grandmothers) as chefs.

He first recruits his mother’s best friend, the irascible Roberta (Lorraine Bracco). He then runs an ad in Craig’s List, garnering a “retired” nun, Teresa (Talia Shire), and Antonella (Brenda Vaccaro), the neighbor of Joe’s high school prom date, Olivia (Linda Cardellini). His mother’s hairdresser, Gia (Susan Sarandon), rounds out the staff, serving as pastry chef. His childhood friend, Bruno, with a touch of strong-arming from Bruno’s wife, Stella (Drea de Matteo), reluctantly serves as contractor. 

Nonnas follows this rag-tag crew as they benignly bicker and quickly join forces to open the restaurant. They face predictable challenges—code issues, building violations, a kitchen fire (from an incinerated sheep’s head used for Capuzzelle), opening in a thunderstorm to no business, a snobbish food critic (Campbell Scott), etc. The problem is that the hurdles feel artificial; therefore, nothing plays on two levels—whether grief or goals. No point is allowed to simmer; everything must come to an immediate boil, then taken off the stove. There is a brief food fight, a makeover montage, and a vague drinking scene with personal revelations, but no surprises.

The dialogue is a string of clichés and aphorisms: “The tomato is the heart of your dish. If you don’t have heart, you don’t have nothin’.” “You make the food. People eat the food. You make people happy.” “Food is love.” “Age is not a disease.” And, stated more than once, “One does not grow old at the table.” 

Vince Vaughn is not plumbing any depths; his performance falls into his long line of likable everymen. But his wide-eyed charm and easy earnestness hold center. The same is true of the entire cast. The quartet of kitchen cooks play to type but are delightful as they do so. Cardellini’s widow is just the right romance-light that Joe—and the story—needs. Everyone seems to be in on the celebration and having a terrific time. 

While Nonnas could easily be accused of overly sentimental (tipping occasionally into saccharine), its genuine sincerity comes through. The combination of food-porn-with-a-point and making the family you need synthesize in this Italian Valentine. Borrowing from another culture’s cuisine, Nonnas is pure schmaltz.

Enoteca Maria opened in 2007 and, unlike as portrayed in its cinematic counterpart, was an immediate success and continues to thrive. If Nonnas is not quite art, it cannot help being a boon for the restaurant and its mission.

Rated PG, the film is now streaming on Netflix.

See trailer here.

 

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The cast of 'Miss Austen'. Photo courtesy of PBS

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

The following is based on viewing Part One of Masterpiece’s presentation of ‘Miss Austen.’

Jane Austen’s correspondence was vast, with an estimation of her penning thousands of letters: Only 160 remain. For reasons unknown, years after Austen’s death, her sister, Cassandra, burned the bulk of Jane’s letters.

Gill Hornby’s intriguing and entertaining Miss Austen: A Novel of the Austen Sisters (2020) speculates why. Hornby’s fictional explanation captures Jane Austen’s style, tone, and diction, with Hornby remarkably echoing Austen’s sly wit and keen observations. Hornby’s book could be seen as a seventh novel in Austen’s sadly small canon. 

A scene from ‘Miss Austen.’ Photo courtesy of PBS

Played in two timelines, the story follows the older Cassandra, in 1830, traveling to Kintbury on the pretext of helping Isabella Fowle, who is mourning her father’s death. However, Cassandra’s true motivation is retrieving the letters written by Jane and herself to Eliza Fowle, Isabella’s mother. Hornby uses Cassandra’s discovery and reading of the cache to flashback to the late 18th and early 19th century. 

In the teleplay, Andrea Gibb puts Isabella’s father, Reverend Fowle, on his deathbed (flickering candles and soft focus), imparting Cassandra a dying wish for Isabella. In this moment, the series sets itself at odds with the source—darker and leaning into the drama (or even melodrama)—rather than the edgier, droller, but more inspired world of the novel. Both touch on the themes of women in society, family obligations, and the pressure for marriage and children. But the approaches are distinctly different, with Gibb’s version trodding heavily, highlighting the romantic elements. The teleplay’s tone (and Aisling Walsh’s direction) departs from Hornby, and in essence, Austen: the author’s brilliance was balancing heartbreak with humor, satire with a sense of humanity. Lacking these vital elements, the filmed version seems bleached and untextured. 

Keeley Hawes is particularly effective as the older Cassandra, conveying thought with subtlety and presenting the older Austen sister as a woman missing nothing but keeping her own counsel. Synnøve Karlsen easily matches her as the young Cassandra, giving an equally rich performance. Patsy Ferran makes Jane quirky and likable and easily drops the few bon mots expected of the witty writer. However, along with Madeline Walker’s pleasant Eliza Fowle, the relationships feel more Little Women than Mansfield Park. 

Rose Leslie’s Isabella is lovely if reinvented as a more traditional heroine. Jessica Hynes’ waspish sister-in-law, Mary, is more ominous than necessary due less to her choice than the approach to her plotline. The same is true of the always wonderful Phyllis Logan, who plays matriarch Mrs. Austen. The book’s Mrs. Austen possesses more than a few shades of Mrs. Bennett; instead, she is given a less colorful portrait to create. Mirren Mack, in her brief appearance, manages the right blend of “respectful impudence” as the Fowles’ maid, Dinah. As for the men, they do little but respond or spout platitudes. 

Ultimately, the major point is legacy. When clergyman Mr. Dundas (Thomas Coombes, in a delightfully wicked cameo suggesting Pride and Prejudice’s unctuous Mr. Collins) suggests to Cassandra that the world is lacking a definitive biography so the public could know the real Jane Austen, she rebukes him. “Everything one needs to know about Jane Austen is to be found in the pages of her novels. There is nothing more.” In essence, this is the thesis. Jane’s life should be defined only by what she offered the public, and her private life and thoughts should remain just that—private. 

Miss Austen offers an interesting—if fictional—glimpse into one of the great literary figures of all time. That said, it is clearly the old saw: “The book was better.” 

The four-part series streams Sundays on PBS.org through May 18.

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Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

The prolific Ellen Meister’s tenth novel, Joyride, offers a fascinating portrait of the (almost) unflagging optimist Joybird Martin, whose desire to help leads her to create a hybrid of Uber and life coaching. The unique premise—and Joybird’s dream—is more than a gimmick. Her genuine drive to heal is a passion rooted in her history. 

Author Ellen Meister

Joybird’s parents divorced when she was a child. Her father, Sid, moved to Los Angeles to pursue a career as a television writer, and she remained in Brooklyn with her mother. When she was eight, her mother died, and Joybird spent a short time living with Sid on the West Coast. After the cancellation of his television show, he and Joybird relocated to his family home in Connecticut. With a career turnaround, he moved back to L.A., leaving her with her maternal grandparents in Queens, where she remained until she left for college. After his third marriage collapsed, he failed to keep in touch.

When Joyride opens, Joybird is thirty-one and living alone in Brooklyn. Due to an implied #MeToo incident, Sid shows up jobless and homeless. Simultaneously abrasive and hyper-sensitive, Sid devolved into a perpetual victim, incapable of self-care. He has moments of acerbic reflection—“like most barbarians, I have strong opinions”—but remains a work in progress.

Like her pale-blue Honda Accord, Joybird is “earnest and dependable.” She is easily judged by her perpetually upbeat outlook. “People underestimate[ed] her because of her cheerfulness. But it was her philosophy that you don’t have to be stupid to be happy.” Her father lives in direct contrast. “Sid Marcus had been quick to feel victimized, insisting that life dealt him a crappy hand, skimming the best cards for someone else.” His long-rooted cynicism dates to his earliest days in Hollywood: privileged Connecticut-born John Martin changed his name to Sid Marcus because he felt it was the only way he could get ahead in the entertainment industry.

Equity analyst Devon Cato, an Uber rider, inspires Joybird to embark on a mobile office. He quickly becomes smitten with her, creating a romantic triangle with a Bohemian poet, Noah Pearlman. The contrast between Cato and Pearlman is not as simple as it initially appears, and Meister wisely lets the dueling relationships unfold throughout the narrative.

Among her clients are the catfished Althea and the fifteen-year-old Riley, the latter struggling with indifferent parents and teenage angst. Again, Meister chooses not to shy away from easy roads or facile solutions. Guiding Joybird as a voice of reason is the upstairs neighbor, the youthful septuagenarian Betty, whose perfume “was an old-fashioned scent that made Joybird think of movies from the 1970s and big hoop earrings.” Betty functions as a friend and mother figure, advising the impossibility of always making people happy: “That’s a burden no one should have to carry.” The simple statement resonates deeply as Joybird’s newfound career presents unexpected landmines.

Meister weaves Joybird’s efforts to reunite Sid with his high school crush and her own romantic challenges, along with the trials of her clients. She writes with the ease and brightness of Armistead Maupin, giving her New York and its boroughs a vibrant energy. Her characters are not standard “quirky” but richly detailed and fully realized. 

Like with her protagonist in Take My Husband (who settles her nerves with an initials word game), Meister fleshes out Joyride’s ensemble with textured, believable personalities. Whether describing the dress of one of Sid’s wealthy clients—“indigo jeans with cognac-colored loafers and no socks”—or the fragrance of a dissipated cologne that leaves Joybird with a “lingering undertone of regret”—Meister possesses an evocative, visceral sense of detail. 

Just as in her outstanding Farewell, Dorothy Parker, Meister writes with wit and warmth, creating complex characters whose ability to change is through a combination of adversity, choice, and personal reflection.  

Ultimately, Joyride addresses a world where one must navigate between support and exploitation. 

“Joybird knew exactly why she hadn’t seen it — her sunny faith in people sometimes blinded her to bad behavior. But she shrugged it off as a small price to pay for the privilege of living her life in the bright, white light of optimism.” Ellen Meister’s Joyride is an engaging, brisk, humorous, and satisfying journey of a person who genuinely believes “we all deserve a chance to become our best selves.” 

Pick up a copy of Joyride at your local bookseller or online at www.amazon.com or www.barnesandnoble.com. For more information, visit ellenmeister.com.

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Actor Laura Dern, center, with 'Common Ground' directors Rebecca Harrell Tickell and Josh Tickell.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

According to the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, regenerative agriculture “describes holistic farming systems that, among other benefits, improve water and air quality, enhance ecosystem biodiversity, produce nutrient-dense food, and store carbon to help mitigate the effects of climate change. These farm systems are designed to work in harmony with nature, while also maintaining and improving economic viability.” Regenerative agriculture includes practices like no-tillage, planting cover crops, reducing chemical use, and planned grazing. 

In 2017, Josh Tickell published Kiss the Ground: How the Food You Eat Can Reverse Climate Change, Heal Your Body, & Ultimately Save Our World. The book purports that climate change is reversible through changing diets based on harvests from soil-nourishing, regenerative agriculture. 

Tickell (along with Rebecca Harrell Tickell) produced and directed the documentary Kiss the Ground (2020), which explored the issues raised in the book. The film shares interviews with farmers, scientists, and environmentalists. The focus is the power of healthy soil and its healing powers for humanity and the earth as a whole. Narrated by Woody Harrelson, the film features the well-known {model/ U.N. Good Will Ambassador Gisele Bünchden, NFL quarterback Tom Brady, etc.) along with authors and environmentalists. Kiss the Ground was lauded for its good intentions but received criticism for an often simplistic approach to the solution, especially concerning climate change. 

The follow-up, Common Ground, which launched globally on Amazon Prime on April 22 in honor of Earth Day, covers some of the same territory, with a spotlight on preservation of the soil. Again, central is the importance of properly cultivating the soil through regenerative agriculture. 

Common Ground opens with a letter “written” by various celebrities. Each is presented with a sonorous voiceover steeped in gravitas. The letter ends with, “It’s a matter of life and death.” If the information presented in Common Ground is even twenty percent accurate, this dark statement is harbinger of long-term and perhaps irrevocable damage. The film begins with a detailed explanation of regenerative agriculture, comparing it to the other less environmentally-friendly approaches. 

The film is most interesting and effective when it addresses agribusiness issues driving the market. Following the money trail exposes the private sector’s influences on government and education, with money filtered through land grant universities. Larger corporations have suppressed scientists and pressured the USDA, influencing the Farm Bill and driving subsidies into soy, wheat, and corn—all commodity crops. Agribusiness possesses the largest lobbying industry with twenty-three registered lobbyists for every member of Congress.

An exploration of the rise of industrial farming in post-World War II highlights the uses of chemicals in the forms of pesticides and toxic herbicides, labeled “the Green Revolution.” Most notably, Monsanto Company’s glyphosate product, Roundup, led to the 1980s genetically engineered crops—“ready grains”—that could resist Roundup. Gradually, revelations held Roundup responsible for damaging the health of thousands, leading to multiple successful lawsuits. (Monsanto sold the company to the German Bayer AG for sixty-three billion dollars.)

Common Ground gives a bleak picture of the small farmer who lives in hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt. The Farm Bill Cycle of Debt is a cyclical trap of the system dictating what (and how) to grow, boosting corporate profits, consumer illness, and farmers’ debt. Suicide rates among farmers are five times higher than the general population. Additionally, Common Ground touches on the racial disparity in farming, with the system showing an overwhelmingly biased preference towards white people. The discriminatory nature of the industry has only increased over the years.

While the film emphasizes much of the negative, it celebrates those who have succeeded in abandoning industrial farming. The alternatives are shown to have health and economic benefits—all linked back to regenerative agriculture.

The tone and style—and much of the documentary—shift from dark shadows to pastoral sunshine to peripatetic imagery. At times, Common Ground feels like clumsy public service announcements; at other points, it plays with the jarring cuts of a music video, with blaring, on-the-nose lyrics. The “behind the scenes” look at the stars — Laura Dern, Jason Momoa, Woody Harrelson, Ian Somerhalder, Donald Glover, Rosario Dawson, and many others recording their narratives is oddly and ineffectively “meta.” But Common Ground is well-paced and presents a clear path to transformation. 

Documentaries habitually select their focus as the greatest existential threat. Whether AI, plastics, water pollution, corporate manipulation, or conspicuous consumption, each sees its topic as the direst and the most important to be solved. Many point to the destruction of the environment, but each selects a different “demon” as the most dangerous. Common Ground is no different in this respect, and therefore, even in its specificity, it lands as a generic call-to-arms (or farms, as the case may be).

“The quality of what you eat determines the quality of your health. And a living soil is where it all begins.” While it might not convert the doubters, Common Ground is another reminder that through commitment and collaboration, environmental change is possible. 

The documentary is now streaming on Amazon Prime.

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Documentary screening of 'Gotta Dance' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
Documentary screening of 'Gotta Dance' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
Documentary screening of 'Gotta Dance' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.

On April 27, Theatre Three, in collaboration with the Greater Port Jefferson Arts Council, held a screening of Gotta Dance, the documentary which is the basis of their upcoming production Half Time The Musical, in its New York premiere. The evening opened with the cast of Half Time  presenting “A Number,” the opening of the show. Following the documentary, Artistic Director Jeffrey Sanzel led a talkback with the documentary’s producer/director Dori Berinstein.

From the creators of The Wedding Singer, The Drowsy Chaperone, The Prom and Legally Blonde, Half Time is based on the incredible true story of ten determined dreamers who audition to dance at halftime for a major basketball team. They have three things in common: they love to dance, they have something to prove, and they are all over 60 years old! Only after making the cut, do they learn they won’t be dancing tap, salsa or swing – instead they will bring down the house with hip-hop!

Theatre Three, 412 Main St., Port Jefferson presents Half Time on the Mainstage from May 24 to June 22. Tickets are $40 adults, $32 seniors and students, $25 Wednesday matinees and children ages 5 to 12. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

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A scene from 'The Adventures of Peter Rabbit' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
A scene from 'The Adventures of Peter Rabbit' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
A scene from 'The Adventures of Peter Rabbit' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
A scene from 'The Adventures of Peter Rabbit' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
A scene from 'The Adventures of Peter Rabbit' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
A scene from 'The Adventures of Peter Rabbit' at Theatre Three. Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.
The cast of 'The Adventures of Peter Rabbit' Photo by Steven Uihlein/Theatre Three Productions, Inc.

By Julianne Mosher

SomeBUNNY should go see the most perfect springtime show now playing at Port Jefferson’s Theatre Three right away. The Adventures of Peter Rabbit might be geared for kids, but audiences of all ages will smile from ear to ear by the end of the hour-long show. 

Written by Jeffrey Sanzel and Brent Erlanson, the musical opened last week during Spring Break and will run through May 10. With original music by Kevin F. Story, the musical is based loosely on the beloved characters from The Tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter.

The show starts off in the cute and cozy cottage home of Mrs. Rabbit (Elizabeth Ladd) and her three adorable bunnies — Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton-Tail (Cassidy Rose O’Brien, Julia Rose Albino and Katy Snair). There is, however, a fourth bunny, Peter (Ryan Worrell), who is a bit of a troublemaker, especially if he gets together with his cousin Benjamin Bunny (Ryan Van Nostrand). 

The two boys can’t stay away from the next door farm of Mr. and Mrs. McGregor’s garden (Louisa Bikowski and Liam Marsigliano), which is full of all of their favorite veggies to eat (or steal). Soon enough, Mr. McGregor, who’s “a meanie with a temper like a bear,” spies Peter and Benjamin sneaking tastes of lettuce, cucumbers and carrots and begins to plot his revenge. 

Interactive and exciting for the little ones in the crowd, there is always something to look at. For example, you may see Peter, his three sisters and their cousin run through the aisles, take a seat in the audience and even chat with you throughout the show. 

Colleen Britt directs a small cast of eight, but with a large level of talent. Worrell and Van Nostrand shine in the comedic roles of Peter and Benjamin. O’Brien, Albino and Snair are great additions with their timely, goody-two-shoes one liners and, of course, Mrs. Rabbit is equally as lovable. And even though they’re the antagonists as the farmers, you’ll still have a soft spot for Bikowski and Marsigliano, too. 

Plus, all of the songs and dances, with special mention to “Run Peter Run” and “Peter’s Socks,” are charming with Douglas J. Quattrock and Jeffrey Hoffman on the keyboards. The final number incorporates all of the songs in a super mega-mix extravaganza.

Costumes by Jason Allyn, from the bunnies’ spring dresses in pink, purple, green and red to their bunny ears and tails, are the carrots on the cake. And wait until you see the lighting and special effects!

Souvenir bunnies in various colors will be sold before the show and during intermission and the entire cast will be in the lobby after the show for a meet-and-greet and photos.

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Theatre Three, 412 Main St. Port Jefferson presents The Adventures of Peter Rabbit at 11 a.m. on April 26, April 27 (sensory-friendly performance), May 3 and May 10. Children’s theater continues with Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs from May 13 to June 21. All seats are $12. To order, call 631-928-9100 or visit www.theatrethree.com.

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Charles Hller (Rami Malek) takes revenge after his wife (Rachel Brosnahan) is murdered. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Revenge is a favored plot devices of the thriller genre. Studios release dozens, if not hundreds, of films each year, drawing from this seemingly endless well. Cinema is populated with tales of the average (usually) man retaliating for the abduction or death of a loved one (spouse/parent/child). The hero, discovering new-found or dormant resources, overcomes evil, destroys their opponents, and allows the audience a vicarious sense of justice. 

Robert Littell worked for many years as a Newsweek journalist during the Cold War, serving as the magazine’s foreign correspondent from 1965 to 1970. Beginning with The Defection of A.J. Lewinter (1973), the award-winning Littell wrote over twenty spy novels, many concerning the CIA and the Soviet Union, the most recent A Plague on Both Your Houses: A Novel in the Shadow of the Russian Mafia (2024). 

Rami Malek in a scene from ‘The Amateur’. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios

With Diana Maddox, Littell co-adapted The Amateur (1981) for the screen, starring John Savage and Christopher Plummer. Director James Hawes helms the current remake, with a screenplay by Ken Nolan and Gary Spinelli. Taking the novel’s basic story but eschewing many of the more interesting details, they have fashioned a by-the-numbers thriller that, for all its drive, never builds momentum. 

Low-key (almost somnambulic) Charles Heller (Rami Malek) works as a CIA cryptographer. His wife, professional photographer Sarah Horowitz (Rachel Brosnahan), travels to London on business. She is taken hostage and murdered during an illegal arms deal gone wrong. 

Grief-stricken, Heller decides to kill the four terrorists. Leveraging information he uncovered about a drone strike cover-up, he blackmails Special Activities Center Director Alex Moore (Holt McCallany) for information. Furious but cornered, Moore buys time by sending Heller for training with Colonel Robert Henderson (Laurence Fishburne). Once in Europe, Heller methodically hunts down his wife’s killers. He teams up briefly with an anonymous source, Inquiline (Caitriona Balfe), but most of his work is done solo, with Heller harnessing his genius rather than his limited physical skills.

The film travels from Paris to Marseilles, Istanbul to Madrid, and finally Constanta (Romania) to the Baltic Sea, where the climax is a low-grade confrontation between Heller and the mastermind, Horst Schiller (Michael Stuhlbarg).

While The Amateur contains little original, the novel touched on a few insightful pieces, particularly connections to the Holocaust. With the story updated to the present, these aspects and one of the most interesting characters, a shadowy figure known as the Professor, have been eliminated. Even Heller’s fascination with the identity of the author of Shakespeare’s plays is absent, leaving Heller a one-note character.

If anything, the film highlights technological change, with a world run by computers and monitored in every corner by thousands of cameras. However, these devices have become central rather than tools for telling the story.

Rami Malek in a scene from ‘The Amateur’. Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios

Rami Malek rose to prominence with the USA Network’s Mr. Robot, for which he received an Emmy for Lead Actor in a Drama Series. His big-screen work included the Night at the Museum trilogy, Larry Crowne, The Master, and Need for Speed. But his breakout came with his Oscar-winning performance as Queen’s singer-songwriter, Freddie Mercury, in the biopic Bohemian Rhapsody. 

Malek is unquestionably an unusual and gifted actor, capable of complexity, variety, and style. But his performance as Heller is so subdued as not to register. Except for one beautiful moment when he opens Sarah’s suitcase, he seems to play Heller without a heartbeat. For Malek, The Amateur will be remembered as an in-between film, a bland undertaking contrasting with better and more textured work. 

Brosnahan is relegated to two short scenes, a handful of flashbacks, and a couple of “visions” that do little to show her range or talent. The always watchable Fishburne barely appears; there is a sense that he was shot for expediency, getting his scenes filmed in as few days as possible. 

Balfe is fine as Inquiline but saddled with sharing her history rather than revealing character through action (and the screenplay does her no favors, ignoring the more complicated background introduced in the book). McCallany does the best he can with a stock political villain. It is left to Jon Bernthal, as an operative known as “The Bear,” to provide an off-beat glimmer. 

Unfortunately, The Amateur offers no growth and certainly no catharsis. The resolution lacks a final of energy or surprising revelations. 

The final ten minutes wrap up the big picture, followed by a vaguely uncomfortable exchange meant to be humorous, ending with a simplistic final image unsubtly telegraphed earlier. 

For two hours, everything happens, and nothing happens. The constant movement possesses motivation but no sense of internal purpose. The film is both literally and figuratively bloodless. In the end, The Amateur provides a generic espionage drama with perpetual action but little intrigue.

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

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Naomi Watts as Iris and Bing the Great Dane as Apollo in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Bleeker Street

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“What will happen to the dog?” That question is the inciting force of The Friend, Scott McGehee and David Siegel’s meditative adaptation of Sigrid Nunez’s 2018 novel, winner of the National Book Award for Fiction.

Canine cinema is its own subgenre. From Old Yeller to As Good as It Gets, Marley & Me to The Art of Racing in the Rain, the four-legged companions have threaded through dozens, if not hundreds, of stories. The films (Cujo excepted) focus on the transformative power for and of the love of dogs. From tear-jerkers to family farces, man’s best friend has often provided a mirror of their companions’ hearts, minds, and souls. 

Naomi Watts as Iris and Bing the Great Dane as Apollo in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Bleeker Street

The Friend lives in the intersecting worlds of literature and academia. Writer-former professor Walter (Bill Murray) takes his own life, and his third wife, Barbara (Noma Dumezweni), asks his former graduate student, colleague, and friend, Iris (Naomi Watts), to adopt his dog, a Great Dane named Apollo (Bing). Reluctantly, Iris agrees to temporarily house the dog in her rent-controlled New York apartment, where Hektor (Felix Solis), the superintendent, reminds her that pets are forbidden in the building. The film follows the usual path of distance to acceptance to bonding. 

While the description might indicate a by-the-numbers tale, The Friend rises above the basic. Iris and the denizens of her narrow, mostly intellectual world dwell in inner emptiness. Even Walter’s death leaves them numb, struggling to find meaning or even feeling. (It is no coincidence that Walter’s hero was the existential and almost perpetual bleak writer Samuel Beckett.) 

Iris, a self-proclaimed cat person, lives without a cat. Though the claim could be because of the apartment rules, it is more likely about her disconnection from connection. She collaborates with Walter’s illegitimate daughter, Val (Sarah Pidgeon), editing a book of Walter’s correspondence. But the undertaking is sluggish, frustrating, and unsatisfying. The publisher, Jerry (Josh Pais), pressures them to finish as there is “more interest in a dead Walter.” 

Iris’s mixed views about Walter (a serial philanderer) seep into every moment of Watts’ strikingly understated performance. Her Iris dwells in a sort of twilight void; the conflict and eventual acceptance of Apollo awakens her spirit, giving her life and giving that life meaning. Watts creates a powerfully subtle, multi-dimensional Iris. Watts is not so much slow as methodical, breathing the struggle of daily life. She is nothing less than riveting.

Naomi Watts as Iris and Bill Murray as Walter in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Bleeker Street

Watts is surrounded by equally restrained and effective performances. The always reliable Dumezweni grounds Barbara; Pidgeon makes the daughter simultaneously free-spirited and haunted; Constance Wu brings the right touch of narcissism to Tuesday, the insufferable second wife. Solis and Ann Dowd, as neighbor and friend, Marjorie, offer some of the brighter, warmer colors. 

Murray appears in a brief prologue, a few short flashbacks, and a fascinating speculative scene in which Iris attempts to work out her relationship with the dead man through the process of writing. Murray finds sweetness and restraint adding to Walter’s contradictory behaviors.

The only one who seems to truly mourn Walter is Apollo. From the drive from the kennel with Apollo gazing sadly out the taxi window to his coopting of Iris’s bed where he lays woefully inert, Bing brings a heart-breaking “humanity” to the Great Dane. (World-famous Bill Berloni is the supervisory animal trainer.)

The Friend can be summed up simply: Dogs are good. Dogs heal. Dogs provide hope. Dogs change lives. It still comes down to “What will happen to the dog?” But, with McGehee and Siegel’s mutely elegant screenplay and fluid, sensitive direction, Watts’ cathartic Iris, and a first-rate supporting cast, The Friend transcends expectations and delivers a memorable, occasionally painful, but ultimately hopeful film.  

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

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'The Warbler'

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“My mother is a willow. She stands by a stream that burbles like a toddler’s kisses, and her leaves dip into the water whenever the wind blows …” So opens the gifted Sarah Beth Durst’s latest novel, The Warbler. 

Author Sarah Beth Durst with a copy of her latest novel.

“If I stay, then one day, beneath the watchful blue sky, I too will grow roots, my skin will harden to bark, and the strands of my hair will blossom.” Elisa’s curse—what her mother called “our family inheritance”—condemns the family’s women to become trees if they remain in any place for too long.

“I’m packed before I’m ready to leave.” This statement embodies the nomadic Elisa, The Warbler’s central figure. She is never going to but “coming from.” Living under different names, she has taken on Beatrix, Wanda, Gitana, and Barbara, all of which mean “traveler” or “stranger.” Elisa’s quest is threefold: find her familial origins, understand her inability never to remain, and how to break the curse. The sole clue is the location must possess enough “unexplained oddities.” 

Until her mother Lori’s passing two years before, mother and daughter crisscrossed the United States, visiting strange and out-of-the-way towns.

As the book opens, Elisa leaves Tyler, with whom she has lived for ten months. She lived in the “now, now, now.” But her life is governed by strong tenets: “Don’t form ties. Don’t take mementos. Don’t keep in touch.” Elisa must always run. A particularly poignant memory is Elisa reflecting on a gift to her mother: a novelty pillow. But the simple offering was left behind because it tied them to that place. Elisa desires something as simple as a junk drawer or a jar of peanut butter “that I don’t have to ration.”

Elisa lands in Greenborough, Massachusetts (The verdant name hints at the possibility of answers to a nature-based enchantment.) Drawn by a cat in the window, her first stop is The Book Cellar, “overflowing with books, exactly as a bookstore should be. Every shelf is stuffed, with volumes wedged horizontally on top of vertical rows and crammed between the top shelf and the ceiling, so many that they look as if they have been quietly breeding for years.” 

Elisa is drawn to books because “they’re portable and replaceable.” Owen, the shop’s proprietor, befriends her. She immediately applies and is given a job in the store. But quickly, the town’s nature reveals itself when she witnesses a strange accident and its peculiar aftermath. 

‘The Warbler’

The town’s charming surface belies a roiling strangeness beneath its seemingly bucolic surface. Greenborough’s inhabitants include a musician who plays a stringless guitar, a writer whose fingers never touch the keys, a waiter who is perpetually wiping a dessert carousel, and a woman who keeps dozens of birds caged in her yard. Even the most benign statement can be ominous: “You know, I’ve lost track of when I came here. Guess time flies when you’re having fun.” The driving force of the peculiar but well-drawn cast of characters is a nameless trio of elderly sisters who suggest the fates in their many forms. 

Ultimately, The Warbler chronicles three generations: grandmother Rose, daughter Lori, and granddaughter Elisa. The book’s chapters alternate in three timelines, exploring the women’s lives and challenges. What seems, at first, a traditional fantasy grows into a complex and emotional narrative. Durst addresses the power of choice and the spirit (and danger) of wishing. Of her many works, Durst’s The Warbler is probably her most visceral and raw, compelling in Elisa’s passion to find truth but also a sense of self. 

Having been condemned to wander, the idea of home burns deeply. Elisa is one of Durst’s finest creations, an individual struggling with loneliness and looking for a sense of the whole. “I love music. It’s something that’s actually supposed to be ephemeral. You experience it, then move on, carrying it only as an imperfect memory of how it made you feel. It’s one of the few things that I can experience exactly like everyone else.” Glimpses of her various “lives” help create a wholeness as Elisa puts the pieces together.

Once again, Durst celebrates nature in its beauty and mystery. The metaphor of roots plays as a grounding but equally as a trap. Each woman yearned for a different life, but their choices or those around them failed to complete them. The novel’s resolution shows depth and insight into the fragility of human nature.

In previous novels, Durst demonstrated her skill as a world-builder with fantastical and wholly original universes. She inverts this idea with The Warbler, constructing her story in the very real, recognizable here-and-now. While no less effective, the immediacy becomes a driving force. Durst addresses the idea of home, the struggle between living free and being caged. 

In turns sinister and heartfelt, The Warbler is a tale of bravery in facing supernatural and wholly human adversity, looking beyond the shadow of danger, and embracing the healing power of self-reflection and understanding.

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Sarah Beth Durst is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over twenty-five books for adults, teens, and kids. She lives in Stony Brook with her husband, her children, and her ill-mannered cat. Pick up a copy of The Warbler at your local bookseller or online at www.amazon.com or www.barnesandnoble.com. For more information, visit sarahbethdurst.com.

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Nicole Kidman as Nancy Vandergroot in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Amazon Prime

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“Sometimes I wonder. Is it even real?” This notion heralds an interesting premise, but the idea fails to manifest in Amazon Prime’s limp psychological thriller Holland. 

Holland, Michigan, is a midwestern idyll—a Dutch Stepford, complete with tulips and windmills. Rooted in Americana values, one expects the town to be composed of theme park facades. 

Nicole Kidman as Nancy Vandergroot in a scene from the film.
Photo courtesy of Amazon Prime

Life Management (Home Economics) teacher Nancy Vandergroot (Nicole Kidman) lives a seemingly picture-perfect existence with her devoted optometrist husband, Fred (Matthew Macfadyen), and a well-behaved thirteen-year-old son, Harry (Jude Hill). Her world is a softly padded suburban prison, with a church deacon husband who is a community pillar. When asked if she did something different with the dinner recipe, she replies: “Brown mustard instead of yellow. I felt like doing something crazy.” 

Nancy’s hunt for a missing earring reveals a stash of Polaroid film and a suspicious parking ticket. The discoveries suggest Fred is having an affair. Admitting that she likes to “play detective,” Nancy enlists the attentive shop teacher, Dave Delgado (Gael Garcia Bernal), to help uncover Fred’s double life. 

Nicole Kidman and Gael Garcia Bernal in a scene from ‘Holland.’ Photo from Amazon Prime

“He goes to a lot of conferences for an optometrist,” she shares. The pair embark on a search for answers. “Sometimes in life, you know, you’ve got to follow the clues wherever they take you.” About one hundred minutes in, the story turns dark. A climactic confrontation leads to a complication and a less-than-satisfactory second climax/conclusion. 

With the right treatment, the predictable setup can make for an engaging story. Alfred Hitchcock often elevated modest plots with unusual twists, interesting points of view, and an ability to elicit fully realized characters. Hitchcock knew film was less the telling of the story but how the story is told. Unfortunately, Andrew Sodroski’s cluttered screenplay and Mimi Cave’s jumbled direction fail to commit to a tone or style. 

Mixing horror tropes (including nightmare visions), caper standards (almost being caught while searching for evidence), and off-beat humor (a kiss interrupted by a car hitting another car), the genres are not blended but rather randomly stacked. 

Much of the dialogue feels like it is being delivered in quotation marks and italics as if everything is simultaneously important but not what it seems. “We have to stay through Tulip Time.” Is this meant to be humorous? Foreboding? Quirky? Ultimately, the statement feels awkward, as does most of the film.

Matthew Macfadyen and Jude Hill in a scene from ‘Holland.’ Photo from Amazon Prime

The most effective piece is the model train hobby shared by father and son in the orderly garage: “You get to make a story about someone you’ve never met before and direct their whole lives … you get to control everything.” The toy railway’s real purpose is much deeper and the film’s most chilling element. 

Kidman is a gifted actor. With Nancy, she channels some of the more benign shades of To Die For’s Suzanne Stone. Nancy is naïve, frayed, and sometimes a little loopy. Kidman manages to carve some dimension in the homemaker’s struggle, finding balance and understanding in the gathering darkness of Nancy’s crumbling reality. The fact that her internal imbalance is not fleshed out (or resolved) lies squarely with Sodroski and Cave. 

Macfadyen (so strong as Mr. Darcy in the 2005 Pride and Prejudice) makes Fred charming, easy, and plausible, veering away from the ominous. Bernal is slightly over-earnest as a man of great conscience who is clearly in love with Nancy. Some racial issues imposed on the narrative ultimately go nowhere, but Bernal uses those to give his character a sense of other in an almost solely white community. Hill makes Harry believable—both likable and subtle. 

Holland attempts to cover self-knowledge, infidelity, guilt, racism, psychological abuse, societal expectations, and a host of other concepts. By trying to say and do so many things, the film fails to unify as one. In the end, Holland is a simplistic suspenser mired in assorted clichés.

Rated R, the film is now streaming on Amazon Prime.

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