CLOSE
Tags Posts tagged with "Movie Review"

Movie Review

by -
0 5150
New documentary examines the future of artificial intelligence               and the impact it will have on our world.

Reviewed By Jeffrey Sanzel

We Need to Talk About AI is an intriguing and occasionally alarmist documentary that explores the historical and current developments in Artificial Intelligence. It raises far more questions than it even attempts to answer and that, most likely, is its point.  The title’s urgency is appropriate to this peripatetically engaging ninety minutes.

Director Leanne Pooley has conducted extensive interviews with scientists, engineers, philosophers, filmmaker James Cameron, and a whole range of experts, along with dozens of clips from news broadcasts and nearly one hundred years of science fiction movies. The film plays at a breakneck pace, fervently bouncing from one opinion to an alternate point-of-view.

Currently streaming On Demand, the documentary is appropriately hosted by Keir Dullea, who gives a dry menace to the narration and occasionally appears walking through crowded streets like a being from an alternate universe. Dullea is best known as astronaut Dave Bowman in Stanley Kubrick’s landmark 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968).  Pooley uses the film’s HAL (Heuristically Programmed ALgorithmic Computer) as the example of man’s greatest fear in the world of AI: a computer that becomes sentient and will no longer obey its human creators.

The early days of AI work seems almost quaint in comparison to latter-day capabilities.  Much of this can be traced to the advancement in the computer technology and the rise of the internet. The internet’s considerable expansion in the last two decades has been the greatest gamechanger. 

A constant refrain is that the dialogue surrounding AI has been “hijacked” by Hollywood: the majority of the populace associate AI in negative terms. It is about the rebellion of manmade machines (e.g., The Terminator). The scientists are in agreement that this is a misrepresentation. That is, they are for the most part. As the film progresses, the views on the dangers of AI diverge.

It all comes down to the question of conscience and autonomy. There is a dissection of the issues behind self-driving cars and how to embed ethics into the machine. The Trolley Problem — how do you decide who to save —  is used to demonstrate the challenge. To make the decision, the machine would have to be a conscious being. 

Furthermore, can a machine be conscious or have a conscience? The idea of conscious and conscience becomes central.  As it is almost impossible to define what “conscious” is, it creates additional conflicts in the narrative. This leads to conversations on emotion and whether machines will ever be able to feel and react to social cues.  

The film poses many hypotheses and explores the predicament from all sides. There is rarely uniform agreement. Can a machine make itself smarter by programming itself? Will the evolution be gradual or exponential?

Even now, robot surgery, agriculture, and even Facebook’s suicide awareness algorithms are examples given of the recent uses of AI. Computers can now beat the world’s greatest chess players. Not that many years ago, these were considered impossible outside of speculative fiction.

Throughout, Pooley returns to the teaching of Baby X, an intelligent toddler simulation that is both fascinating and chilling. Baby X almost seems human and appears to be learning. It is a strange and exciting phenomenon.

Already, the argument is made that we carry less in our brains because we carry parts of them in our pockets in the form of cell phones. In essence, they are the merging of minds with computers. They are an augmentation and a symbiotic integration. 

Ultimately, it comes down to not so much how we build AI but what we do with it. The unifying position of the interviewed is the fear that this power will be used for evil — or at least negative purposes. (Pooley unsubtly does a quick montage of the world’s foremost demagogues.) 

The consensus is that it should not be about who arrives first but who gets there safely. They hope but doubt for regulation. If it is corporations or business (Google, Microsoft, etc.) that get primary control, it will be driven by greed. If it is the military, it will be about killing. They say we only have one chance to get it right, and the leader in the field must, in essence, be the good parent. AI will dominate the economy and, therefore, the world. 

There are myriad questions raised: What it means to be human? If machines become more, will we be become less? Is AI going to do something for you or to you? Is science fiction the canary in the coal mine? That is, do we face the apocalypse if AI doesn’t play out the positive scenarios?

And then there are the moral questions. Can machines be made accountable? Does a machine have rights? If so, is this a form of slavery, where conscious beings are created and then dehumanized? There is a brief section about the rise of sex robots that is twinned with a clip from the 1927 silent film Metropolis. Can a machine say, “No?”

Perhaps we have come a long way from the science fiction movies of our past. Maybe we will never face the voice of HAL saying, “I’m sorry, Dave. I can’t do that.”

Or perhaps we will.  

The final line sums up the entire journey:  “What do we want the role of humans to be?” We Need to Talk About AI is a great place to start.

by -
0 1061
From left, Ramona Edith-Williams and Kelly O'Sullivan in a scene from Saint Frances. Photo courtesy of Oscilloscope Labs

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Saint Frances begins with Bridget (Kelly O’Sullivan) listening passively to a man drone on about a dream he had and how life is about purpose. This indulgent harangue only ends when he discovers that she is not in her twenties but a 34-year-old server; upon hearing this, he unceremoniously moves on. 

This sets the tone for a story of someone who exists but does not actually live in her own life but drifts from moment to moment. Bridget seems unphased and unaffected by his rudeness and remains impassive. 

She is then engaged by a younger man, Jace (sweetly earnest Max Lipchitz). That night, they fall into bed. It is clear that Jace wants more than just the hook-ups that seem to populate Bridget’s life. But this is not Bridget. The self-described feminist-atheist doesn’t know who she is or, more importantly, what she feels. 

In short, she is a mess.

Gradually, details of her life are teased out.  As a server, she has no affinity for the job, shown as soul-crushing drudgery. She then interviews for a nannying position, clearly ambivalent about the actual work but just wanting to escape the restaurant. The situation is to take care of six year-old Frances (Ramona Edith-Williams). Frances’ mothers, pregnant Maya (Charin Alvarez, heartbreaking in her struggle, triumphant in her resolution) and lawyer Annie (layered and dimensional Lily Mojekwu) are dubious and pass on her.

In the meantime, Bridget discovers she is pregnant and Jace willingly offers to support her in any way. Almost immediately, Bridget decides to terminate the pregnancy. It is not so much a cavalier choice as it is, like all of her actions, done almost at a distance. Bridget is someone who lives apart from herself.

Two months later, after the original nanny is let go, Bridget is offered the position. She readily accepts even though she seems to have no affinity for children. Maya is now struggling with postpartum depression, and Annie is now back at work full-time and seemingly unavailable.  

Initially, Bridget is emotionally absent as a caretaker. She makes a series both benign and what could be (but do not result in) calamitous mistakes. However, she  gradually awakens to her responsibility, and not just to Frances, but to herself. Her journey is both darkly funny and achingly melancholy. Much of the film is excruciating as she perpetually teeters on and often goes over the edge of poor judgment. But, through her commitment to her charge, she grows. 

In the tumult of the chaos that is Bridget, there are many astute and charming scenes.  A hike with her parents who are humorous but caring eschews the usual clichés. Following the baptism of Maya and Annie’s baby, Frances gives confession to Bridget.  A sleepover shows that there is joy in the simplest moments.

At the center of the film is Kelly O’Sullivan’s riveting and nuanced performance, letting the light ever so gradually shine into Bridget’s life, building up to several wonderfully cathartic moments. She is matched by Ramona Edith Williams, an honest and endearing child actor. Whether dismissing Bridget with a “We’re done” or subtlety crumbling under the fear of being replaced by her new sibling, she is unmannered and, most importantly, real.  Together, they make the film beat as one.

Director Alex Thompson allows Kelly O’Sullivan’s insightful screenplay to breathe, never giving away what will happen next, but drawing us further and deeper into Bridget’s tumultuous wake. It is all beautifully filmed by cinematographer Nate Hurtsellers. Together, they have created a film that dissects and yet celebrates the fact that family given or chosen are equal parts love and dysfunction.

Ultimately, Saint Frances’ heart lies in purpose. Prior to Frances, Bridget is wandering ambivalently through her own story. Even her mother asks her if is she was happy she was born, even with her life “the way it is.” But with responsibility, Bridget becomes awakened, aware, and empowered. By actively involving herself in this family — by finding her purpose — she not only finds herself but her sense of value. Saint Frances leaves Bridget — and us — in a better place.

Not rated, Saint Frances is now streaming on-demand.

by -
0 2161
Jane Goodall. Photo courtesy of National Geographic

By Jeffrey Sanzel

From scientist to activist: Dr. Jane Goodall addresses an audience in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of National Geographic

It could not be more appropriate that the new documentary Jane Goodall: The Hope premiered globally on Earth Day, April 22, in 172 countries and 43 languages on National Geographic, Nat Geo WILD and Nat Geo MUNDO channels. At the heart of Goodall’s work is more than just the wonder of nature but the need to respect and honor our coexistence with other species of the planet. Her passionate yet gentle character is iconically associated with this message.

The two-hour film continues where Jane (2017) left off. Jane Goodall:  The Hope is an exploration of the work she has done since 1986, when she transitioned from scientist to scientist-advocate. It is a beautiful film, powerful and simple, with no narration. Instead, it is told through interviews juxtaposed with recent and archival footage spanning over six decades.  

There are a few nods to her earlier life.  One of the first scenes, Goodall shows her childhood copy of The Story of Doctor Dolittle, the book that first opened her eyes to a world of possibilities. There are occasional glimpses into her person life — some time spent with her grandchildren or having a glass of whiskey with friends. But the heart of the film is Jane Goodall as conservationist and messenger.  

A scene from the film. Photo by Michael Christopher Brown/Magnum Photos

At 86, Goodall still maintains a grueling schedule of three hundred days on the road, traveling and speaking across the entire globe. In one sequence, she is shown shuttling from airport to hotel room (where she makes toast on an iron) to traveling again.  

It would be a difficult schedule for someone a third her age, but Goodall sees it as both quest and responsibility. When told she should slow down, her response is that she must speed up as time is running out. Between tours she lives in the English home that her family has had since 1940, sharing with her younger sister, Judy.  We are treated to just a few rare moments of rest, accentuating her constant and unflagging work.

Goodall never sought fame but has reluctantly accepted it to further her cause. She readily admits that she would have preferred to stay in the forests of Gombe, living with and studying chimpanzees, but realized she was in a position to speak out where people would listen.

Whether addressing a crowd of several thousand or interacting with a handful of elementary students, her unique spirit comes through. Her goal is to always reach people through their hearts. She is a guide and a messenger, not a preacher. One boy describes her as “Mother Theresa for the environment.”

Her outreach has included the Jane Goodall Institute as well as the Zanzibar-based Roots and Shoots program. The latter engages young people on issues of conservation and gets them directly involved. She is particularly inspiring to young girls, several of whom give impassioned paeans  to Goodall as a role model.  In fact, the latter third of the documentary concentrates on her legacy and the myriad results of the seeds she has planted.

A scene from the film. Photo courtesy of National Geographic

The film highlights her ability to connect with people and not divide them. James Baker, former White House Chief of Staff, was an avid hunter. Yet, she was able to find common ground in a belief in clean water. He readily gave her introductions to countries across the world. She developed a long-time relationship with Rodney Macalister, manager for Conoco.  Throughout, he is interviewed and marvels at how she managed to get a huge oil company to build a chimpanzee sanctuary. He states simply, “She commands respect in the softest of ways.”  

Goodall went into labs that used primates for experimentation so that she could report firsthand. Often questioned by more radical activists, she makes clear that she would rather work with people “to do it better” then to be constantly adversarial. Ultimately, with years of considerable yet considerate pressure, she got the National Institute of Health to reduce its use of animals for the testing of drugs and other experiments. She has the ability to bridge the gap between the most unlikely individuals.

It should be noted that there is disturbing footage of the torture and mistreatment of chimpanzees. The filmmakers have wisely not overused these important images but they are as devastating as they are essential in their depiction of cruelty and neglect.  

The documentary clearly shows Goodall’s inner focus: “I believe only that when head and heart can work in harmony we can achieve our true potential.” Her message is shared with everyone from the youngest children to the most educated of academics, from politicians to Prince Harry. And her affect on them is clear.  

She is hope attached to action. She understands that to make conservation work you have to engage with the local people and make their lives better. Conservation must help through community, remembering that there are basic needs that will come first (e.g., health, water, education).

Ultimately, it is Jane Goodall’s optimism that shines through. Her belief that the young people can and will make the world a better place. One of the final moments of the film is her speaking to a sold-out crowd.  She raises her hand and says: “Together we can —together we will save the world.” And because she believes, it makes us believe it too. Jane Goodall: The Hope is an important film in the truest of ways. It is not just to be seen; it is to be shared.  

Jane Goodall: The Hope is now streaming free on demand.

by -
0 1077
Mackenzie Davis in a scene from 'The Turning'.

By Jeffrey Sanzel

One of the definitions of “turn the screw” is “an action that makes a bad situation worse, especially one that forces someone to do something.”  

Henry James’ 1898 novella The Turn of the Screw was a landmark milestone of the Gothic genre. Unlike many of the thrillers that had come before and after, its power is rooted in the horror of uncertainty. Eschewing traditional ghost story tropes, the question of sanity versus reality gives the narrative a unique slant.  James’ tale is psychological rather than overt (such as Bram Stoker’s Dracula, published a year earlier).  

The first film adaptation, The Innocents (1961), was taken from the Broadway play.  Over the years, there have been various incarnations inspired by both the plot and the driving concept.

Now Floria Sigismondi (whose early career is in music videos) has directed a modern adaptation from a screenplay by Carey W. Hayes and Chad Hayes. In this update, set in Maine 1994 (most likely to assure there are no cell phones), Mackenzie Davis takes on the role of Kate Mandell, the new governess at the Fairchild Estate. Kate is replacing Miss Jessel who mysteriously disappeared.  

Finn Wolfhard and Brooklynn Prince in a scene from ‘The Turning’

There isn’t much detail given to how Kate gets the job. Then again, there aren’t many details given to anything. Kate tells her best friend Rose, (Kim Adis doing her best “stock best friend”) “I’m going from 25 screaming kids to one little girl. How hard can it be?” Isn’t this the question asked by every nanny, babysitter, and tutor in the history of horror movies? 

After visiting her delusional and institutionalized mother (Joely Richardson, whose three minutes of screen time hardly warrant the “and” billing), Kate arrives at Fairchild, with its lush grounds, Gothic architecture, and creepy statuary. Lest we forget, there’s the requisite overgrown pool where someone will be pulled in and pulled down.  

Kate’s charge is the precocious Flora (an able Brooklynn Prince), a hyper-articulate seven-year-old who makes very adult observations. Flora never leaves the property. This turns out to be connected to a genuine fear as she witnessed her parents dying in a car accident outside the house’s gate. 

Flora is quickly joined by her teenage brother, Miles (Finn Wolfhard), hip and happy, but dead-eyed, a Damien for the millennium. Miles has been expelled from boarding school where he brutally attacked another student. He plays electric guitar and likes spiders. Subtlety is not the film’s strong suit. There is another issue here: Whether his violent and sadistic tendencies are nature or nurture. But like any opportunity to find depth or dimension, the filmmakers choose neither.  

Brooklynn Prince in a scene from ‘The Turning’

The final addition to this genial band is Mrs. Grose, the briskly efficient housekeeper and family retainer. Barbara Marten does her best but the result is a cross between a hellish Mary Poppins and grinning Mrs. Danvers.  With silver hair and gray crepe skin, she is given to knowing looks and proclamations like “The children are very special … they are thoroughbreds” and “They were born into privilege.”  

The plot is driven by the possibility that Miss Jessel was murdered by Peter Quint, the brutish and drunken riding instructor, who was a bad influence on Miles. Quint also died under questionable circumstances. Kate begins to be haunted by images of both Jessel and Quint.  She begins to suspect that the children, who have taken to playing vicious pranks, can see them as well. Whether the visitations are real or in her mind is at the core.

It is and has always been a serviceable plot. The issue is one of style and character development. 

For the former — style — it could be any horror movie in the most generic sense. The opening shots are of a woman running away from a house. The mansion is vast, with rows of blank windows and a mysterious and dangerous east wing. Don’t forget the well-timed thunder claps, banging shutters, slamming doors, a menacing maze, obscured mirror and window reflections, and a whole bunch of scary dolls. There are some nice jump-out scares but they are of the “gimme” variety. That is, nothing new: a mannequin head that turns on its own, a sewing machine that comes to life, disembodied foot prints, etc.  It doesn’t help that if the film were any darker, it would be a radio play.

The real problem is in the latter: character development. There isn’t any. Kate honors her commitment to Flora that she won’t abandon her. But why would she agree to play flashlight tag? And with Miles, who threatens her and comes into her bedroom uninvited? 

The history of her mother’s mental illness and how that has affected her is skated by with comments about “not having parents.” It’s the ultimate kinda-sorta-let’s-address-this. We don’t know who these people are and, pretty quickly, we don’t care. And the questions still remain: Are they dreams? Are they visions? Is it over yet? No. She still has to run up and down the stairs and through the fog for another twenty minutes.

Perhaps this could all be forgiven if it had built towards a satisfying conclusion. Often, the final moments of a horror film have a shocking twist or a cathartic explanation. There can be that wonderful “ah-hah” moment.  Instead, there was an “oh, no” — as in “oh, no, I just wasted 90 minutes of my life for a film without an ending.” In any case, don’t “turn the screw” by watching this. That would just make a bad situation worse.

Rated PG-13, The Turning is now streaming On Demand.

Photos courtesy of Universal Pictures

by -
0 1458

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Ladj Ly’s Les Misérables is not another remake of the Victor Hugo novel, nor does it have anything to do with the musical blockbuster or its clumsy cinematic version. In fact, it only nods to the original source in slight but ultimately important ways.  

This Les Misérables is set in the French commune of Montfermeil in 2018. In the novel, Montfermeil is where Jean Valjean rescues the abused child Cosette. In addition, the title has been translated as The Miserables, The Wretched, The Miserable Ones, The Poor Ones, The Wretched Poor, The Victims and The Dispossessed. Any of these would apply to the denizens of the contemporary Montfermeil.  (Contrary to various sites, Hugo did not write Les Misérables in Montfermeil, but rather when he was in exile, living in Guernsey.)  

The film opens in Paris, just after the French victory at the 2018 FIFA World Cup. It is a scene of celebration and harmony, where people of all ethnicities joyously connect. This is the sole moment of unity to be seen in the next ninety minutes.

Quickly, the action shifts to Les Bosquets, Montfermeil’s most notorious and crime-ridden social estate. Police officer Stéphane Ruiz, an emotional and moral core as played in a brooding, heartfelt performance by Damien Bonnard, has arrived for his first day, having been transferred from Paris, to join the anti-crime brigade. He is placed with the high-strung, abusive, and sadistic Chris (Alexis Manenti, dangerously mercurial) and the more laid-back Gwada (understated but wholly engaging Djebril Zonga), who grew up in the neighborhood. 

Chris and Gwada have been working this area for the past decade. At one point, the hairpin-triggered Chris states,“I am the law.” It is horrifyingly comic and twistingly reflective of how this community functions. It is just as skewed as Hugo’s wrongheaded but self-righteous policeman Javert.  (However, it should be noted, Javert is many things but crooked is not one of them.)

The plot centers around a teenager, Issa (a piercing Issa Perica), who has stolen a lion cub from a Roma circus and posted a picture on Instagram. This causes great unrest in the already volatile zone, divided by race and religion.  

Stéphane, Chris, and Gwada attempt to locate and return the cub, revealing the corrupt and cruel underpinnings of the area, ruled over by a mayor (played with a sly, controlled charm by Steve Tientcheu), an arch and accomplished manipulator. 

Confrontations ensue with the citizens of both African and Arab decent; the Muslim Brotherhood, run by former felon Salah (the subtlety dimensional Almamy Kanoute); drug dealers; and hordes of almost feral teenagers.  

Even after they locate Issa, it is an act of violence — revealed to be not as accidental as it first seems — that drives the latter part of the film. From then on, it is a race between the police officers and the various residents to track down the video from Buzz (wide-eyed and fearful Al-Hassan Ly), the boy whose drone recorded the incident. It all builds to a showdown that is both a literal and figurative conflagration.

The film depicts a wide range of abuses against poor citizens. To label them all as victims is to oversimplify and to take away the social and fiscal complexity of the issues. Many of them are held back by conditions beyond their control; but their reactions are often brutal and disproportionate, fueled by a distrust and deep-seeded anger.  

This is a world of temporary alliances but no allegiances. Amongst themselves there is hierarchy but no respite or solace. It is a constant struggle for survival through power and dominance and unflinching brutality. And, at the bottom, there are the disenfranchised teenagers of various ethnicities, portraits of seething unrest.

The film quotes Hugo: “Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.” It is a reminder that this actions are the consequences of societally-made circumstances.  

Ladj Ly has directed this film with a relentless anxiety. Every moment is tension-filled; even in stillness, it holds its breath. The clock is always ticking and the countdown is to another moment of destruction in a sphere that is wracked by crime and poverty.  

One thing this Les Misérables shares with the original is its look at the law — not in black and white but in shades of terrible grays. But this is to be expected in a universe where an eye-for-an-eye can become literal. If you were looking for a film with clear good and bad and right and wrong, this is not it.  But if you want to be challenged, Les Misérables will resonate with a unique and unsettling power.

The final moment is the perfect metaphor: a Molotov cocktail burning down. Where it lands, remains to be seen.

In French with English subtitles, Les Misérables (Rated R) is now streaming on Amazon Prime.

Photos courtesy of Amazon Studios

 

by -
0 1733
Eleanor Tomlinson and Sam Claflin in a scene from the film. Photo by Riccardo Ghilardi/Netflix

By Jeffrey Sanzel

In these dark and often challenging times, it is nice to know there are movies and television shows that can take us out of ourselves for an hour or two. It is a welcome opportunity to jump into a rom-com world that is delightful and whimsical and wholly engaging. Netflix’s offering, Love Wedding Repeat, is not that.

With beautiful scenery, a glorious sunshine filled-day, and elegance in everything from the lavish dress to the flawless table settings, it takes a great deal of effort to be this consistently abrasive and charmless. There is a difference between trying very hard and just being very trying. Four Weddings and a Funeral it’s not. Well, maybe just the funeral.

Dean Craig has directed his own screenplay based on the 2012 French film Plan de Table.  In the prologue, British Jack (Sam Claflin) attempts to kiss American Dina (Olivia Munn), the roommate of his sister Haley (Eleanor Tomlinson). They are interrupted by a boorish friend of Jack’s and there goes the kiss. Jump three years forward to Hayley’s Roman wedding to Roberto (Tiziano Caputo). Once again, Jack has the opportunity to connect with journalist Dina. The film spends the next hour and a half keeping them apart.

The thin conceit hangs on two things:  the name cards at the English table and a misappropriated sedative. The film’s gimmick is that it plays out one scenario with a brutally unhappy ending (truly ugly) and a second with a cheerier resolution. Separating the two is an interlude in fast-forward during which half a dozen possibilities are played out around the table. 

The film’s structure is not the film’s problem.  Instead, it is as if someone emptied the cliché bag of every wedding movie. “Nothing could spoil this day …” followed by the arrival of the coked-up ex-boyfriend (scenery chewing Jack Farthing). Who could see that coming? 

There is the old man who insists on kissing everyone on the mouth. A not Scottish guy in a kilt (Tim Key) — oh, those hilarious kilt jokes — whose inability to talk to women is the source of so much amusement. Of course, given the nature of the film, in the second part, he learns that it all comes down to “just listening.”  

A pretentious film director (Paolo Mazzarelli), caricatured right down to the pony tail, is being stalked by the maid of honor, Bryan (Joel Fry). To add further chaos, Bryan has only just learned that he has to give a speech. Don’t forget the obnoxious friend (Aisling Bea) who says everything she thinks but, deep down, just wants to be loved. Don’t worry: She ends up with someone who sees her for who she is, deep down. Freida Pinto is saddled with the thankless role of Jack’s ex, a gorgeous harridan who is tormenting her current boyfriend (Allan Mustafa, who must play a rather unsavory obsession).  

There are some truly gross moments that are somehow meant to be funny. There is both the expected and extraneous sex jokes. What’s less than single entendre? The whose-taken-the-sedative-and-is-falling-asleep gag seems interminable and inescapable. These “hijinks” are played out against a great deal of talk about “grabbing choices” and “finding love.” Pick a lane, please.

In theory, it is a clever idea to show two different views of the same day and the matrimonial  setting is an ideal choice. But the contrast between the two parts is not strong enough nor are the characters likable enough to root for.

Claflin has a certain warmth but the material doesn’t give him enough variety or backbone. Munn is smart as the object of his affection but seems to be suffering much of the time. Tomlinson, a true English Rose, is handed an unforgivable transgression given the context. Key tries his best to make the supportive friend less of a trope and more of a human being. It comes down to the fact that this is a talented cast who are not served by the writing’s grinding machinations and the often less-than-pleasant characters.

The moral of Love Wedding Repeat is it all depends on where you sit. I guess that’s true. I wish I hadn’t sat in front of the television.  

Rated TV-MA for mature audiences only, Love Wedding Repeat is now streaming on Netflix.

by -
0 1203
Hilary Swank and Betty Gilpin in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

By Jeffrey Sanzel

“Whether they’re smart pretending to be idiots or idiots pretending to be smart …”  

The Hunt follows “elitist snowflakes” stalking “deplorables” on a sprawling compound in Croatia. In this film, both groups have earned the quotes in one way or another. The rich are insufferable and entitled on a whole new level; the rednecks behave in the way they are most often caricatured. It is hard to label the film: satire, horror, action thriller, or political commentary. All are relevant but not one fully encompasses the frenzied whole. It is also hyperviolent, bloody, frequently sadistic, but, more often than not, engaging.  

Co-written by Nick Cuse and Damon Lindelof and directed by Craig Zobel, The Hunt’s release was scheduled for September 2019 but was postponed because of mass shootings in Dayton and El Paso. It was finally released in theaters in early March; when the theaters were closed, it was quickly offered on pay-per-view sites.

This is not the first movie to follow humans hunting humans. Richard Connell’s 1924 short story The Most Dangerous Game was first adapted for film in 1932. It has been seen in about a dozen incarnations over the years. The Hunt’s strong political thread separates it from many of its predecessors.

A group of captives from various parts of the United States are dropped into a forest where, upon their release, the majority are slaughtered in a scene reminiscent of The Hunger Games:  bullets, landmines, arrows, a pit with spikes, etc. Those who escape are then hunted down in various ways throughout the next hour.  Playing in the background is the discussion of Manorgate, a conspiracy theory that seems to be coming true for these targets: the left-wing rich tracking the poor for sport.

The film spends little time developing character but is more concerned with the broad strokes, moving swiftly through a range of vicious encounters. Late in the film, a flashback explains but in no way attempts to justify the actions of the privileged. Centering on a leaked text introduced in the beginning, it is the impetus for the events, leading to the question of motivation versus wish fulfillment. This is part of the all-over and over-the-top nature of the entire story.

The cast makes the most of the chaos. The dark humor surfaces in unexpected times, including Amy Madigan and Reed Birney’s argument over an issues of political correctness as they clean-up and store bodies. It is either hilarious or horrifying, depending on the point-of-view. Perhaps, it is both.

Most of the characters are either given first names or simple monikers. For example, Emma Roberts is billed as “Yoga Pants.” Her quick dispatch is enough reason not to go further into her character. Justin Hartley (Kevin of television’s This Is Us) also disappears early on.  People do come and go very quickly here and all in unpleasant circumstances.

The stand-out is Betty Gilpin as Crystal Creasey, one of the pursued, who proves to be a match for her assailants at every step and turn. Gilpin (best known as Debbie “Liberty Bell” Eagan on the Neflix series GLOW) is extraordinary. She makes Crystal quirky and mannered, yet entirely believable. In the most powerful and disturbing moment, she retells the story of the tortoise and the hare with a brutal and unexpected outcome. Her delivery is both painful and chilling. It also comes full circle at the end.

The climax is a showdown between Crystal and the driving force behind the Hunt, Athena Stone (an unbridled Hilary Swank). It could be an example of female empowerment or could easily just be plain exploitation. Either way, it is an all-out brawl of epic proportions.

“Whether they’re smart pretending to be idiots or idiots pretending to be smart …” states Crystal. As to who are the heroes and who are the villains, this is left in a strange ambivalence. Certainly, many will see the film as a portrait of the underlying divide between the left and the right. Others will see it as a blood-drenched spectacle. With its extreme violence and twisted politics, ultimately, The Hunt is an equal opportunity offender.

Rated R, The Hunt is now streaming on demand.

by -
0 374
A scene from 'Harriet'

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Harriet Tubman was born into slavery but escaped to the North where she became the most famous “conductor” on the Underground Railroad. With unfathomable bravery, Tubman repeatedly risked her life to bring her family and other plantation slaves to safety. An extraordinary individual, she became a leading abolitionist prior to the Civil War; during the war, she worked directly with Union Army as a spy among other roles. Beyond the war, she worked with freed slaves as well as campaigning for women’s suffrage. 

Directed by Kasi Lemmons, who collaborated with Gregory Allen Howard on the screenplay, Harriet is a powerful and important biopic that focuses on the strength and perseverance of this exceptional person.

A scene from ‘Harriet’

The film opens in 1849 and shows the twenty-something Harriet (born Araminta Harriet Ross, nicknamed “Minty” by her parents) newly married to John Tubman. While she is still a slave to the Brodess family, John is a freedman. Harriet lives on a farm in Dorchester, Maryland, with her mother and sister, her other sisters having been sold South.  

It is revealed that the Brodess’s have denied the family’s freedom that was promised in the great-grandfather’s will. When confronted with a letter from a lawyer, the plantation owner rips it up and dismisses the claim. In private, Harriet prays for God to take him — this witnessed by the adult son, Gideon. When the father dies suddenly, Gideon decides to sell Harriet as punishment.  Realizing this, she flees and begins the nearly impossible journey one hundred miles to the Pennsylvania border.

Harriet had been struck in the head as a child and, because of this, has seizures in which she receives visions that she believes are the guidance of God.  Throughout, these flashes help her make difficult decisions and they become pivotal in her choices.

Once acclimated in Philadelphia, Harriet plans to return south for her husband. John, believing she was dead, has remarried and his wife is pregnant. While distraught from this discovery, she decides to bring her family to freedom. This she does along with bringing several other slaves to the North. 

Thus begins Harriet’s life’s work, returning time after time to bring more slaves to freedom. Legend grows around this mysterious figure – dubbed “Moses” – and incites the wrath of the plantation owners. Harriet remains undaunted and continues her work, even after the Fugitive Slave Act is passed, allowing escaped slaves in free states to be returned to their bondage.

The film builds to a confrontation between Harriet and Gideon. After this, there is a small epilogue that suggests her work with the Union Army, in particular leading black soldiers who free hundreds of slaves.

It is a compelling film that tells the story with great clarity and doesn’t shy from the brutality of its topic. Lemmons finds the flow of the story and rich detail. There is an occasional lack of tension because Harriet sometime seems a bit too invincible. This undermines the danger and risk that were clearly apparent in her every action and choice. It is a minor cavil but surprising given the life-and-death stakes.  

Cynthia Erivo delivers a gripping performance as Harriet Tubman.

Both the center and the heart of the film is Cynthia Erivo’s Harriet.  Erivo shows the struggle, pain, and triumph. Her transition from “Minty” Ross to Harriet Tubman is done with poignancy and a raw honesty that inspires every moment of the story. Joe Alwyn does his best to avoid the clichés as the spoiled and vicious Gideon. His scenes with Erivo are some of the strongest in the film.  

Leslie Odom Jr. charms as William Still, the Philadelphia abolitionist who connects Harriet with the Underground Railroad.  Janelle Monáe’s Marie Buchanon offers the right strength as the free-born owner of a boarding house in Philadelphia where Harriet stays; there is a sensitivity in   the growing friendship and mutual respect between them.

Clarke Peters and Vanessa Bell Calloway, as Harriet’s parents, both find dimension in their limited screen time. Omar Dorsey is terrifying as Bigger Long, a brutal slave-catcher. Henry Hunter Hall is a bit whimsical as Walter, a black slave tracker who switches to Harriet’s side. Jennifer Nettles is appropriately brittle as Eliza Brodess, Gideon’s mother.

The rest of the cast does the best it can but many of the parts – including most of Harriet’s family – are not full developed. The exception is Deborah Olayinka Ayorinde, as Rachel Ross, Harriet’s sister; in one brief scene she shows monumental struggle and fear.

In 2016, it was announced that Harriet Tubman would replace Andrew Jackson on the $20 bill; this was to coincide with the hundredth anniversary of the 19th Amendment, which granted women the right to vote. Last year, this well-deserved honor was postponed until 2028 (or beyond).  While Harriet Tubman might not grace American currency anytime soon, Harriet is a sensitive and honest reminder of this unique and remarkable human being.

Rated PG-13, Harriet is now streaming on demand.

Photos courtesy of Focus Features

by -
0 2022
Elisabeth Moss (Cecilia) in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

By Jeffrey Sanzel

H.G. Wells’ 1897 science fiction novel The Invisible Man is the story of Griffin, a former doctor, who has invented chemicals that changes a body’s optics and renders the individual invisible. Whether from the process itself or the inability to reverse it, Griffin becomes unhinged and homicidal. 

Over the years, there have been various adaptations, most notably the 1933 film starring Claude Rains, which most closely followed its source. Sequels, spinoffs, and spoofs have traded on the concept with varying success.

Harriet Dyer (Emily) and Elisabeth Moss (Cecilia) in a scene from the film.

Written and directed by Leigh Whannell, the current version of The Invisible Man focuses on abused wife Cecilia Kass (Elisabeth Moss), married to Adrian (Oliver Jackson-Cohen), a world leader in the field of optics.  

The film opens with Cecilia narrowly escaping her violent husband and taking shelter with her sister Emily’s (Harriet Dyer) ex-husband James (Aldis Hodge), a San Francisco police detective. Two weeks later, Cecilia is informed that Adrian has committed suicide and left her a trust of five million dollars. 

Clearly, Adrian is not dead but has found a way to make himself invisible and Cecilia’s life begins to unravel. She knows this but, of course, no one will believe her. Adrian had warned her that “wherever I went, he would find me … that he would walk right up to me and I wouldn’t be able to see him … but he would leave me a sign so that I’d know he was there.”

The film is a traditional thriller, with all of the tropes, including the Kass house which is part tech laboratory, part museum, mostly glass, and all horror movie. Every movement is accented with an ominous chord; every sound — whether the flipping of a light switch or the gush of a faucet — is amplified. The camera slowly pans on vacant rooms and holds on empty corners. There are no surprises in its “surprises.”

Elisabeth Moss and Oliver Jackson-Cohen (Adrian) in a scene from the film.

But what makes the engine go is Elisabeth Moss, an always watchable actor, with just the right mix of classic Scream Queen and self-actualized modern woman. For the first twenty minutes, her character isn’t given much more to do but look around her, behind her, and over her shoulder. But somehow she endows it all with enough manic energy to make it believable. 

Like all horror movie heroines, at first Cecilia thinks she is going crazy (as do all of the people around her). When she realizes what is happening, it all falls into place and she goes on the offensive. As Adrian destroys Cecilia’s life, including framing her for murder, the stronger and more self-reliant she becomes. A life-altering revelation furthers her resolve. 

The majority of the film moves along as a psychological thriller and doesn’t resort to mild gore and special effects until well into the second half. This is a smart choice as floating objects, no matter how well executed, have a certain humor about them.

There are some nice touches that suggest Adrian’s presence: an exhaled breath in the cold night air, a dent in a chair cushion, a bloody fingerprint on a medicine bottle. These small strokes make up for many of the plot holes that are often found in horror movies. The climax is a predictable showdown but the denouement is satisfying enough.

While the film is practically a one-person vehicle, the supporting cast do the best they can. Hodge is likable as the friend. Dyer is relatable as the sister. Michael Dorman is given the unenviable task of Adrian’s sleazy jellyfish of a brother, Tom, who also served as his lawyer. Jackson-Cohen as the sociopathic Adrian barely has any screen time and is reduced to a few disembodied lines.

The Invisible Man will never be considered a great movie, and, for many, not even a good one. Even as a genre film, it doesn’t touch some of the contemporary classics like Halloween, Carrie, Get Out, The Babadook, and Let the Right One In. But for a star performance and a well-paced two hours, The Invisible Man entertains.

Rated R, The Invisible Man is now streaming online.

by -
0 1590
Winston Duke and Mark Wahlberg in a scene from the film. Photo by Daniel McFadden/Netflix

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Netflix began as a DVD rental source before it moved into streaming. Eventually, it began to produce its own material, including some exceptional films, series, and specials. These have included Beasts of No Nation, Roma, Mudbound, Orange Is the New Black, House of Cards, Stranger Things, and recently The Irishman and Marriage Story. Not everything has been this intense: Glow, Dear White People, and John Mulaney and the Sack Lunch Bunch, among many other smart, amusing offerings. It is unfortunate that Netflix now offers the disappointing action comedy Spenser Confidential. 

Spenser Confidential is loosely based on Ace Atkins’ novel Wonderland, with characters created by Robert B. Parker. Here, the responsible parties are Peter Berg (director) and Sean O’Keefe and Brian Helgeland (screenplay).

Mark Walhberg plays Boston police officer Spenser who is now being released from five years in prison for assaulting his captain (a stock villain played by Michael Gaston). While at first it seems that Spenser’s sole motivation was breaking up a domestic dispute, it is gradually revealed that there is more to it than just the captain’s mistreatment of his wife.  

On the day of Spenser’s release, the captain is murdered. The suspicion falls on a dirty cop who appears to have killed himself over it. Spenser seems to be the only one who suspects that all is not what it seems.  While all he wants to do is learn how to drive big rigs and move out to Arizona (!), he realizes that he is the only honest man in Boston and capable of seeing what no one else does. He sets out on a quest to clear the deceased officer’s disgraced memory. He teams up with his new roommate, Hawk, a gentle giant who had gone to prison for manslaughter. They are, of course, a caricature of a mismatch; while it tries, hilarity does not ensue.  

What follows is a plot that includes a host of standard tropes including a corrupt police force, white supremacists, gang violence, goons-for-hire, drug trafficking, and shady business at the soon-to-be-built casino, Wonderland. There is the obligatory “cops like doughnuts” joke and a boxing montage.  Spenser even provides lists for the camera reading “Who killed him?” and makes bold statements like, “I couldn’t let it go.” 

The tone strips its gears as it shifts between sitcom and deadly serious. A vicious dog attack is played as slapstick in this bizarre mix of real and cartoon violence. Perhaps there was an attempt to make this a common man as super hero vehicle — there are various references to Spenser as Batman — but there is no follow-through on that concept either. The jokey moments come across as precious, with glib quips often followed by an exceptionally ugly moment. It is not impossible to pull off this seemingly incongruent blend; the Dirty Harry movies did it brilliantly. Spenser Confidential doesn’t even try. It just lopes along, leaving a trail (and trial) of clichés. 

Mark Wahlberg is the star and obviously the only reason for the film being made; he appears in nearly every one of the one hundred and eleven minutes. He has a natural ease and, with a better script, he could have used his warmth to offset the character’s anger. But his Spenser (“a Boston cawp with a tempah”) seems to be a relic from television of the 70’s and his rage comes with a wink, making it all seem phony. 

As we now live in an age of complex anti-heroes — Tony Soprano, Walter White, Saul Goodman — Spenser comes across as insufferably self-righteous and squeaky clean. He is constantly spouting aphorisms about honesty and integrity and “doing the right thing.” The movie lacks subtlety and much of this can be attributed to Wahlberg’s mostly two-dimensional performance. Perhaps the character’s constant need to be liked, even when punching or being punched, is at the root of the problem. The writers failed to give Spenser any genuine emotional texture and this prevents him from engaging us.

For the most part, the supporting cast, with a few exceptions, are interchangeable.  Alan Arkin is fine if a bit low energy; he does what he usually does but there is a vague sense that he is walking through it.  

Winston Duke has a certain charm but his Hawk seems never committed to being one thing or another, floating through the story as a generic sidekick. The only thing we learn is that he likes animals; this doesn’t seem enough to flesh out a character who is basically to the second lead. 

Iliza Shlesinger is Spenser’s on-again off-again girlfriend, Cissy, a dog groomer with an attitude. She manages to make the most of what she is given, finding a few of the film’s only real laughs. Her scene with Spenser in a restaurant bathroom is particularly funny and tells us everything we need to know about their relationship.  (It should be noted that this scene, along with the violence and the language, are what would earn this an R rating.) 

Overall, the Boston accents fade in and out like the hackneyed desaturated flashbacks. At nearly two hours, it is overstuffed. Trimmed down to eighty minutes would not have solved the many problems but it would have eliminated the movie’s repetitiveness.  It is obvious from the final moments that the intention is to launch a series of films centered on Spenser and Company. Like Spenser Confidential¸ they will be for Mark Wahlberg fans only. If even them.

Spenser Confidential is now streaming on Netflix.

Prev1...161718...22Next Page 17 of 22
TBR News Media is your local news and entertainment website.
We provide you with the latest breaking news and information for your community.
Contact us: [email protected]

Most Viewed

©