CLOSE
Tags Posts tagged with "Movie Review"

Movie Review

by -
0 656
Xolo Maridueña in a scene from 'Blue Beetle.' Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures/DC Comics

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

For every superhero blockbuster, an equal number are box office disasters. For each Avengers: Endgame or Iron Man 3, there is Shazam! Fury of the Gods and The Flash. Many superheroes have risen and fallen, only to rise again in a parade of reboots and colored tights.

The Blue Beetle first appeared in Fox Comics’ Mystery Men Comics #1 (1939). The titular hero, Dan Garet, took Vitamin 2X, which gave him “super-energy.” When Fox went out of business, Charlton Comics bought the character, reprinting some of the stories before launching its version in 1955. In 1964, Charlton re-envisioned the character: Dan Garrett acquired an extra “r” and “t” along with a new origin story centered around a mystical power-giving Egyptian scarab. In 1966, inventor Ted Kord became a gadget-centric Blue Beetle following Garrett’s death. Next, the character’s mythology was reinvented with both Blue Beetles—Garrett and Kord—in Americomics (published by AC Comics). 

Xolo Maridueña in a scene from ‘Blue Beetle.’ Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures/DC Comics

DC Comics bought Charlton’s superhero collection in 1983, changing Ted Kord to a billionaire industrialist. This Ted Kord appeared in various titles, including Justice League, Justice League America, and Birds of Prey, the identity continuing through 2005. DC presented a new Blue Beetle in 2006: teenager Jaime Reyes, whose powers came from the scarab, a piece of alien technology. While the initial series was cancelled due to poor sales, a revival came in 2011, disconnecting Reyes from previous Beetles. In 2016 Garrett and Kord were restored as previous Blue Beetles. Jamie Reyes was the focus of a limited series, Blue Beetle: Graduation Day, offered from 2022 to 2023. 

Enter DC studio’s Blue Beetle. After a prologue establishing Kord Industries locating the scarab in a frozen tundra, the action quickly shifts to bright-eyed pre-law college graduate Jamie Reyes returning home to the fictional Texan town of Palmera City. As he rides down the airport escalator, he adjusts his mortarboard. Turning to the gentleman beside him, he asks, “How do I look?” The man dryly responds, “Like you’re six figures in debt.” The smart quip establishes the tone and world that Jamie faces. 

Jamie is greeted by his family—mother, father, grandmother, sister, and eccentric uncle. During a celebratory meal, Jamie learns that his auto mechanic father lost his job due to a heart attack. They are now in danger of losing the family home, three months in arrears. His sister, Milagro, gets them a job working in the mansion of Kord Industries CEO Victoria Kord (whom Milagro describes with begrudging respect as “Cruella Kardashian”). They lose their positions when Jamie steps into a fight between Victoria and her niece, Jenny. In gratitude, Jenny offers Jamie employment and tells him to come to Kord Tower. 

The next day, Jenny discovers that Victoria uses the scarab for her OMAC (One Man Army Corps) project. Jenny steals the scarab in a fast-food hamburger container, but the laboratory director discovers its theft, and the building is put on lockdown. In danger of being caught, Jenny passes the box to Jamie, who takes it home, warning him not to open it or touch its contents.

Upon returning, the family pressures him to see what is in the box. In full view of his family, Jamie touches the scarab, which attaches itself to him. He is immediately surrounded by an exoskeleton/armored suit, complete with a guidance voice and myriad abilities, including flight and a host of defensive and offensive capacities. (Jenny later tells Jamie that the scarab is an ancient sentient weapon that has chosen him as host.) 

The plot is traditional: a struggle between the emerging hero and the dastardly villain. Jamie learns to harness the powers as Victoria sets out to reclaim the scarab. Victoria is a classic nemesis cut in the Bond villain mode. Susan Sarandon chews the scenery, practically singing the watchcry, “Sacrifices must be made for the greater good.” Her main conflict is with her brother’s daughter, Jenny (Bruna Marquezine), an underdeveloped and bland character. Victoria has a traditional henchman, Ignacio Carapax (Raoul Max Trujillo, expressive with only a few lines), with an important backstory. 

A scene from ‘Blue Beetle.’ Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures/DC Comics

There are references to Jenny’s father, Ted Kord, as well as Ted’s professor, archaeologist Dan Garrett, bringing the Blue Beetle’s entire history into superficial play. The effects are pure videogame, with an excessive amount of blue electricity. The action often resembles Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. 

On the surface, little new or exciting is on offer. However, director Ángel Manuel Soto and writer Gareth Dunnet-Alcocer manage one important coup: the extraordinary bond of the Reyes family. 

Unlike many genre movies, Blue Beetle uses family not as a vehicle but as the core force. If the theme of familial bond is heavy-handed, the first-rate cast engages us on a genuinely human level. Xolo Maridueña shines as Jamie, easily holding center for the film’s stretched two hours. Damián Alcázar makes the father, Alberto, wise and touching, a patriarch of great understated strength. He is matched beautifully by Elpidia Carrillo as Rocio, Jamie’s mother. Adriana Barraza, as Nana, the matriarch, avoids cliché and has a fun eleventh-hour reveal. Belissa Escobedo brings humor and caring to Milagro, Jamie’s sister. George Lopez takes Uncle Rudy to the limit and beyond, both hilarious and touching. Each stands out individually, but as a whole, they are an exceptional unit. 

While there have been Latino superheroes, Blue Beetle puts representation at its center. An important moment comes late in the film involving the laboratory director (played with conflicted integrity by Harvey Guillén). The exchange leads to a bold choice, highlighting racial issues that weave through the film. 

In the end, Blue Beetle is uneven and occasionally uninspired, but a superior cast and a celebration of family let the film soar. Rated PG-13, Blue Beetle is now playing in local theaters. 

by -
0 803
The main cast of 'Haunted Mansion.' Photo courtesy of Disney

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

There’s an old joke (incorrectly credited to W.C. Fields):

“… And I spent a week in Philadelphia.”

“When?”

“Day before yesterday.”

Which brings us to Haunted Mansion.

The Haunted Mansion is one of Disney’s most famous and beloved dark rides. The Disneyland premiere (1969) was followed two years later by the Disney World/Magic Kingdom location. 

Before its current resurrection, Disney produced the (mostly) critically drubbed Eddie Murphy vehicle The Haunted Mansion (2003). However, the film grossed over $100 million worldwide. Muppets Haunted Mansion (2021) appeared on Disney+. The Muppets’ first Halloween special ran a brisk fifty minutes and was warmly received. 

Unlike the park ride, which lasts an entertaining eight minutes, the current film’s interminable two hours offers little but some strong performances trapped like the spirits in the Haunted Mansion. Katie Dippold (Parks and Recreation, The Heat, and the 2016 Ghostbusters) cobbled a mess of sitcom, slapstick, and reflection on grief. Justin Simien (director of the brilliant Dear White People) fails to elevate the movie, which arrives as dead as the house’s occupants. (When Disney first announced a reboot, Guillermo del Toro was attached to the project but exited in 2013. One wonders what the gifted del Toro would have done with this mainstream project.)

Haunted Mansion is set in New Orleans, “the Most Haunted City in America.” In a short prologue, astrophysicist Ben Matthias (a truly grounded and likable LaKeith Stanfield) meets Alyssa (brief but likable Charity Jordan), a ghost tour guide. While he questions her belief in the supernatural, he falls in love with and marries her. After she dies in a car accident, he gives up his scientific work and takes over her ghost tour. 

The ghosts of Gracey Manor. Photo courtesy of Disney

Fast forward to New York doctor Gabbie (strong but underserved Rosario Dawson) and her nine-year-old son, Travis (a sensitive and mature Chase W. Dillon), moving into Gracey Manor to turn it into a bed and breakfast. As they enter the house, they realize they are not alone.

A goofy priest, Father Kent (Owen Wilson doing a nice job as Owen Wilson), recruits Ben to photograph the ghosts with the camera he had developed to shoot dark matter. The skeptical Ben agrees to the proffered ten thousand dollars. When he leaves the mansion, he realizes the ghost of a mariner has followed him. And this is the crux of the story: anyone who enters the house takes the spirits with them. “Ghosts are like bedbugs: they latch on.” A charming image.

Psychic Harriet (always enjoyable Tiffany Haddish) and college historian Professor Bruce Davis (Danny DeVito, both benign and manic) join the quartet. The “dream team,” as Kent labels them, discovers the house’s history and that the inhabitants want their help to be free (though this gets a bit muddled in the end … and the middle … and part of the beginning).

They learn from the crystal ball-trapped Madame Leota (Jamie Lee Curtis—remember her?—she just won an Academy Award) that William Gracey bought the mansion and engaged Leota to contact his dead wife. However, an evil entity tricked Gracey into taking his own life. The malignant force is Alistair Crumb, also known as the Hatbox Ghost (voiced for some reason by Jared Leto). There is talk of the 999 spirits and the need for a willing victim to make one thousand allowing Crump to escape the mansion. (Something like that.) The “climax” is the two worlds—the spectral and the real—colliding.

The movie suggests ghost movies of earlier eras: Bob Hope’s 1932 comedy The Ghost Breakers and William Castle’s creepy 13 Ghosts (1960) come to mind. But Haunted Mansion manages to be simultaneously fluff and leaden. (This calls to mind the old brain teaser: Which is heavier—a ton of feathers or a ton of cement? Answer: One hundred and nineteen minutes of Haunted Mansion.)

The effects replicate the Disney attraction. The low-tech feel serves the commercial advertisement but just makes the movie look cheap. The requisite cobwebs drape the dwelling, and the well-known Haunted Mansion denizens appear (the Bride, the Hitchhikers, etc.). Occasionally, the film nods towards introspection: Harriet speaks of “ghost winks”—messages of hope and comfort from people who have passed on. This heartening concept wandered in from another film.

But too often, the film relies on forced, clumsy humor. Punchlines include a joke about a Yankee Candle and an uncancelled Amazon subscription, a pen and pad purchased at CVS, and sage bought at Costco. Characters snore, and chairs fly down steps, dumping the occupants in mud. Hilarity reigns.

The cast does its best, with Stanfield and Dillon as standouts. A sprinkling of cameos—Marilu Henner as a tourist, Winona Ryder (uncredited, but very funny) as a tour guide, and Daniel Levy as her husband—are fun but do little more than distract for a moment.

Ultimately, Haunted Mansion is a ride not worth taking. Rated PG-13, the film is now playing in local theaters.

 

by -
0 324
Molly Gordon and Ben Platt in a scene from 'Theater Camp' Photo courtesy of Searchlight Pictures/20th Century Studios

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

While recruiting campers for her AdirondACTS camp, director Joan Rubinsky (Amy Sedaris) is sent into a seizure-induced coma by the strobe light in a middle school production of Bye Bye Birdie. Her slacker son, Troy (Jimmy Tatro), takes over the struggling enterprise, ineptly mismanaging its staff of well-meaning but mildly narcissistic misfits. In addition, he must deal with the camp’s failing finances and imminent foreclosure. 

The simple and familiar premise—camp on the verge of closing—sets up a highly enjoyable niche outing, following in the footsteps of the slightly more satirical Camp (2003) and the equally intense Stage Door Manor documentary Stagedoor (2006). 

Based on a short film of the same name, Molly Gordon, along with co-director Nick Lieberman, Ben Platt, and Noah Galvin, has fashioned the heartfelt mockumentary Theater Camp, which delivers consistent laughs but never lacks heart. 

The film follows the four-week theatrical process, from auditions to opening. While mounting productions of Damn Yankees, Cats, and Crucible, Jr. (a hilarious joke to those familiar with the Jr. concept), the focus is on the annual original musical, written by the drama director, Amos Klobuchar (Platt), and the music director, Rebecca-Diane (Gordon). The project, Joy, Still (a bio-musical of the camp founder), takes up most of the film’s rehearsal and performance focus and manages to be simultaneously ridiculous and sincere. 

Perhaps the mix of these tonal elements—ridiculous and sincere—best describes Theater Camp. While hurling barbs at theatre training and its many pretensions, it never loses its love for its subject. This truth is best reflected in the campers who shine in their own ways, displaying raw talent, fearlessness, and pure desire to perform. They represent a true demographic cross-section, bonded in the joy of all things theatrical. 

The staff are an over-the-top crew but somehow make the caricatures believable. Platt and Gordon infuse the codependent pair with the dysfunction common to longtime theatrical collaborators who cannot communicate. Caroline Aaron plays the managing director with a mix of tough love and the awe of the non-artistic. Without losing the humanity, Nathan Lee Graham camps up the choreographer, Clive DeWitt, as does Owen Thiele as the costumer, Gigi Charbonier. 

Ayo Edebiri makes the fraud, Janet, a charming grifter; her teaching of a mask class is one of the satirical highlights. Tatro’s lost Troy is likable, and his gradual awareness of the beauty of what his mother has created is genuine and touching. But it is Noah Galvin, as the jack-of-all-trades stage manager, Glenn, who provides the film’s biggest surprise. Galvin’s transformation at the climax is a revelation and a marvel. 

Thematically, Theater Camp centers on being “one of us.” The staff and campers are cut from the same mold. They are the ones who are never picked first or second (or third or fourth) for teams. They are social outcasts in the outside world. But at AdirondACTS, they are not just accepted but celebrated. 

Towards the end, the camp hosts a mixer with the neighboring camp, the privileged Lakeside. The Lakeside campers view the boisterous, outgoing theatre kids with not just disdain but the view that they are “other.” The film’s creators smartly refrain from giving the Lakeside campers commentary; the contempt is clear but unspoken. For all its problems—and they are myriad—AdirondACTS provides an outlet and a haven for these budding artists. 

In the wake of artistic blockbusters (Barbie, Oppenheimer), Theater Camp is a lightweight diversion and an enjoyable slice of summer fun.

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

by -
0 793
Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

J. Robert Oppenheimer (1904-1967) is considered a founding father of the American school of theoretical physics. His work included the exploration of astrophysics, nuclear physics, spectroscopy, and quantum field theory. In the 1930s, he wrote papers suggesting the existence of what are now labeled black holes.

At the dawn of World War II, Oppenheimer was instrumental in developing the atomic bomb (often referred to as its “father”). In June 1942, he was appointed scientific director of the Manhattan Project and supervised the construction of the Los Alamos laboratories.

Following the War, Oppenheimer assumed the chairmanship of the General Advisory Committee to the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC). In this role, he voiced opposition to the development of the hydrogen bomb. In 1953, at the height of the Cold War and Red Scare, Oppenheimer was accused of communist sympathies, and the AEC canceled his security clearance.

Matt Damon and Cillian Murphy in a scene from ‘Oppenheimer’. Image courtesy of Universal Pictures

In the year’s best film so far, director Christopher Nolan’s epic Oppenheimer traces the controversial figure’s rise, fall, and redemption. Nolan’s screenplay, closely adapted from Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin’s 2005 Pulitzer Prize-winning biography American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer, runs on three timelines: the buildup of the Manhattan Project, leading to the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki; the AEC’s rigged hearing that stripped Oppenheimer of both prestige and access; and Lewis Strauss’s senate confirmation hearing for Secretary of Commerce.

Many films tackle issues of scientists and scientific discovery: The Imitation Game (2014), A Beautiful Mind (2001), Hidden Figures (2016), and The Theory of Everything (2014) are examples of some of the stronger genre offerings. However, these films often stress the personal elements or water down the science. In the case of Oppenheimer, the epic but breathtakingly paced three hours manages to keep science in the forefront without losing interpersonal relationships.

The film begins with twenty-two-year-old Oppenheimer struggling with anxiety at Cambridge’s Cavendish Laboratory. After an aborted attempt to poison his professor, Oppenheimer meets Niels Bohr, who suggests he complete his education in Germany. Upon graduation, Oppenheimer begins teaching at the University of California, Berkley, and the California Institute of Technology. The film balances his day-to-day life, including his left-leaning politics, with an attempt to show his genius through strong, abstract imagery. 

Much of Oppenheimer plays in lectures and classrooms, as well as offices and laboratories. Nolan keeps the action moving and the stakes perpetually high. The rise of Hitler deeply affects the scientific community, many of whose members were Jewish. In 1942, General Leslie Groves recruits Oppenheimer to lead the Manhattan Project. Oppenheimer gathers an extraordinary team to secretly develop the atomic bomb in Los Alamos, New Mexico. Throughout, the scientists debate the issues of the long-term and far-reaching effects of their actions. In addition, the constant specter of espionage hovers over the project. 

The film builds to the first of several milestones with the Trinity, the test of the atomic bomb on July 16, 1945. Simultaneously, it highlights the perpetually shifting collaborations, suspicions, setbacks, and infighting throughout the three years of development. 

Marking his sixth collaboration with Nolan, Cillian Murphy delivers a flawless performance as the gifted, complex Oppenheimer. He brings a range of shades, from the self-important to the self-doubting. Following the dropping of the atom bomb, his simple, devastated, “And now I am the condemned. Destroyer of worlds,” is of Hamlet proportions. He manifests the struggle between the intense scientist and the man drawn to the power given to him as leader of the Manhattan Project. A womanizer who loves his wife, a father who shows little interest in his family, and a man later plagued by his choices, Murphy delivers a truly Oscar-worthy performance. 

Equal to Murphy is Robert Downey, Jr., as the seemingly mild, almost benign, but ultimately vindictive Lewis Strauss, who offered Oppenheimer the directorship of Princeton’s Institute for Advanced Study. Downey, Jr. gives one of his finest, most dimensional performances as Strauss’s real and imagined slights drive him to take down the scientist. As with Murphy, Downey, Jr., will most likely receive an Academy Award nomination (if not a win). 

Emily Blunt makes alcoholic and volatile wife, Katherine, a frustrating and noble figure. Matt Damon’s General Groves is the company man who sees the bigger picture. Florence Pugh’s independent communist Jean Tatlock brings both sensual and tragic qualities to Oppenheimer’s sometimes lover. David Krumholtz is powerfully understated as Isidor Rabi, a voice of wisdom and conscience, as is Tom Conti as the knowing Albert Einstein. 

In the Senate confirmation hearing, Rami Malek’s David Hill smartly projects shades of Joseph Welch taking down Joseph McCarthy. Kenneth Branagh makes a strong cameo as Niels Bohr, and Gary Oldman, one of the greatest actors of his generation, is indelible as President Truman. Josh Hartnett, Casey Affleck, Jason Clarke, Matthew Modine, and Tony Goldwyn are among the dozens of supporting performers who comprise this exceptional ensemble. 

Hoyte van Hoytema’s astonishing cinematography enhances and highlights the shift in time and place, perfectly complementing the work of production designer Ruth De Jong. Every element is in perfect synchronicity, from costumes to soundtrack. But Nolan, as Oppenheimer’s creator, manifested this exceptional undertaking. He skillfully blended science, politics, and morality into a cinematic gem that will be honored now and remembered as a work as complicated and brilliant as its subject. 

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

by -
0 1543
Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling in a scene from 'Barbie' Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Entertainment

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

What can you say about someone who has had over two hundred careers—fashion editor, science teacher, paramedic, paratrooper, Canadian Mountie, aircraft engineer—but was quoted as saying, “Math is tough?” While she beat Neil Armstrong to the moon, she encouraged her followers to “Get your sparkle on—show the world where you belong.” 

Featured from toy shelves to The Nutcracker (to The Magic of Pegasus 3-D), Barbie—full name Barbara Millicent Roberts—first appeared in March 1959. The eleven-inch plastic figure was the brainchild of Ruth Handler (Mattel, Inc. co-founder, with husband, Elliot). Inspired by the German Bild Lilli doll, the first Barbie sold for $3. Today, Barbie is a multi-billion-dollar industry.

Barbie’s world includes her on-again-off-again boyfriend Ken, best friend Midge, and sister Skipper. The first celebrity Barbie was Twiggy (1967). Barbie first ran for president in 1992 and has been on the campaign trail at least seven times since. She will continue to evolve and be reinvented. But as busy as she is, Barbie has now made time for a feature film. 

Director Greta Gerwig (Lady Bird, Little Women) reteams with Frances Ha screenwriter Noah Baumbach (The Squid and the Whale, Marriage Story, Margot at the Wedding) to direct “big screen” Barbie. They have written a fascinating societal exploration, presented through the prism of the alternate world, Barbie Land. Barbie is no theme park ride or action toy translated to a mass market money grab. The film is a serious meditation on gender roles and expectations. It takes on multiple overlapping themes—perhaps too many to answer—and resonates long after its brisk two-hour running time.

Margot Robbie in a scene from ‘Barbie’. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros. Entertainment

Barbie deals with a tear in the separation of Barbie Land and the real world, a rip connected to Barbie’s doubts about her perfect existence. She leaves the female/Barbie-dominated universe to learn that women have not achieved the positions of strength they have in her native existence. Initially, the comedic conflict sparks from the clash of the two planes. Still, the bigger issue arises from Ken’s awareness of the disproportionate power allotted to men outside Barbie Land. (In Barbie Land, the Kens are relegated to a peripheral existence, not holding the key positions taken by the Barbies.) Ken’s epiphany causes Barbie Land to devolve into a world of toxic masculinity dominated by the Kens. The host of mindless bros’ tenuous grasp turns the idyllic utopia into an almost hellish frat-scape, Kendom Land. The fact that Ken somehow connects patriarchy to horses speaks volumes.

The resolution strangely errs on the side of hijinks, with the Barbies righting their world through a subterfuge that plays on Kens’ easily flattered egos. The commentary is strong but subsumes the message of self-awareness and empowerment. They fool the doltish Kens rather than directly engage them. However, in the end, the Kens gain a modicum of self-awareness. 

Barbie manages to be comedy, spoof, satire, and message movie, sometimes in turn, other times simultaneously. From its 2001: A Space Odyssey opening to its exquisitely conceived Barbie Land that is both vibrantly two- and three-dimensional, Barbie is a delight, with visual jokes, hilarious asides, and social commentary.

Margot Robbie’s in all ways flawless Barbie proves the actor’s exceptional skills and depth. She manifests a true living doll but allows for both growth and arc, never missing a beat or a laugh. Ryan Gosling makes the ideal foil, as the mostly clueless Ken, coming to a misplaced awareness. The supporting Barbies are effective on different levels, as are the coterie of Kens. 

America Ferrera’s real-world Gloria has the most memorable moment in the film—a speech about the double standard women face daily. Her passion and laser focus give weight without weighing down the significance. Ariana Greenblatt, as her daughter, Sasha, neatly represents today’s generation of detached teens searching for connection. Michael Cera’s sad sack Allan is subtly hysterical.

Rhea Pearlman offers the luminous, not-so-spectral spirit of Barbie creator Ruth Handler. In her two scenes, she manages to be heartbreakingly human and otherworldly wise. She speaks as the head and heart of possibility, which was her inspiration in creating the doll. She is somehow Dumbledore to Barbie’s Harry. 

The film’s major misfire is the comedic Mattel corporate board, headed by Will Ferrell, doing Will Ferrell at his most Will Ferrell. The painfully predictable slapstick seems forced in an otherwise sharp and meditative story.

*Reviewing is the definition of subjective. I left unsure of exactly how I felt about what I had witnessed. I also knew that I was not its true demographic. 

Curious, I engaged with people exiting the film and reached out to others over the next few days. These ranged from adult mothers and daughters with complementary opinions to viewers in their twenties and thirties. Three slightly dazed mothers with a half dozen girls under age eight contemplated how much their young charges had—or had not—understood. 

While a few attendees were mildly disappointed, the consensus was that Barbie was an effective and affecting film. Older viewers seem most linked by the nostalgia, reflecting bittersweetly on childhood hours. However, recurring comments tended towards empowerment, identity, and reflection of girlhood/womanhood. The film seriously considered the day-to-day struggles of being female and cultural over-sexualization. But Barbie also symbolizes the ability to change, hearkening to her creation as representing myriad possibilities. Many were deeply moved by the montage of women throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries; almost all cited Gloria’s monologue as a high point. The most common refrain was, “I felt seen.”

Ultimately, Barbie transcends. As a work and work of art, it accomplished something extraordinary, something “more than.” It has let its audience “feel seen.” And that alone makes Barbie exceptional. 

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

by -
0 484
Harrison Ford in a scene from 'Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny'. Photo courtesy of Lucasfilm Ltd. / Disney

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

The Indiana Jones films are among the most popular blockbusters of all time: beginning with Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), followed by the prequel Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (1984), then Indiana Jones and the Lost Crusade (1989). It was almost twenty years before the fourth chapter was released: Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008). This last received the poorest reviews and the weakest response. Stephen Spielberg directed all four films, with Harrison Ford starring as Dr. Henry Walton “Indiana” Jones, Jr., an archeology professor. Worldwide grosses have approached two billion dollars. 

In between the third and fourth films, a television series, The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, followed Jones as a child and youth. Twenty-eight episodes and four made-for-television films ran from 1992 through 1994. In addition, dozens of books, comic books, toys, and other tie-ins surround the Jones icon.

Phoebe Waller-Bridge, as Helena, and Harrison Ford, as Indiana Jones, star in ‘Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny.’ Photo courtesy of Lucasfilm Ltd./Disney

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny opens in the closing days of World War II. Jones faces Nazi adversaries as he attempts to recover the Lance of Longinus. The German officers reveal Hitler believes the relic to contain extraordinary powers that could reverse the course of the war. The Lance is a fake, but Nazi astrophysicist Jürgen Voller has found half of Archimedes’ Dial, an invention of the ancient Syracusan mathematician said to be able to locate fissures in time. 

After an extended fight and chase on a train, Voller is killed (spoiler alert: he is not), and half of the Dial is supposedly lost (spoiler alter: it is not). Of course, Jones and sidekick, archaeologist Basil Shaw, survive.

The action jumps from 1944 to July 1969, just after the moon landing. Borderline alcoholic Jones, a passionless professor at New York City’s Hunter College, instructs indifferent students on the eve of his forced retirement. His son, Mutt, died in Viet Nam, and his wife, Marion Ravenwood, left him. Enter his goddaughter, Helena Shaw, Basil’s only child. Helena seeks the Dial, and while Jones had promised the near-insane Basil to destroy it, he preserved it in the college storeroom.

While retrieving it, Jones and Helena are attacked by muscle sent by Voller, now a scientist working for NASA. During this melee, Helena reveals herself to be less a student of archeology and more a mercenary treasure hunter planning to sell the Dial fragment in a Tangiers black-market auction. What ensues is a world-crossing journey, with a plethora of fights and escapes. These—the film’s raison d’être—are slightly cartoonish but grandly, energetically executed. However, they are too long. Much, much too long. 

Somewhere along the way, the series traded its signature humor and bold but neatly developed characters for impressive but bloated action sequences: extended chases in narrow streets and open spaces, replete with rooftop leaps, helicopters, planes, motorcycles, and innumerable cars. There is even an escape on horseback through a parade, invading the New York City subway.

With a few exceptions, the body count is composed of expendable characters. The almost bloodless violence borders on heightened slapstick, with square-landed punches usually followed by an attempt at a wry quip. The core villain, Voller, could be straight out of a Hollywood propaganda film; his henchmen are the usual obedient thugs. Helena’s sidekick, Teddy Kumar, vaguely replicates Short Round from the earlier films.

So much of The Dial of Destiny is an homage to Indiana Jones, one through three. While the trio paid tribute to the serials of the 1930s and ‘40s, Dial celebrates the trilogy. As soon as the chords of John Williams’ unmistakable underscore play, Jones saves the day (or at least the moment). But building an entire two hours and twenty minutes on waves of nostalgia comes up, if not empty, certainly less than satisfying. The film’s climax, a bizarre sword-and-sandal sequence, becomes uncomfortably comical and slightly clumsy.

While Ford announced this would be his final performance in the role, he remains in fine form as the curmudgeonly Jones, with his have-hat-and-whip-will-travel presence. He continues making the most incredible situations palatable. (Perhaps the CGI that renders the prologue’s younger Jones is the most extraordinary special effect.) 

Phoebe Waller-Bridge creates a quirky, amoral Helena, a great foil for Jones. She infuses the grifter with a mix of noir femme fatale and girl-next-door charm. Mads Mikkelsen’s Voller succeeds as the typically erudite fascist with requisite lip-curling contempt. Ethann Isidore manages to avoid precociousness as Teddy.

The supporting cast play mostly enlarged cameos. Antonio Banderas twinkles as Renaldo, a boat captain. John Rhys-Davies is delightful in his return as Jones’ old friend, Sallah. Toby Jones strikes the right balance between sanity and madness as Basil. Shaunette Renée Wilson gives one of the more dimensional performances as a government agent. 

While forging no new ground, those looking for another chapter in the saga will be either disappointed with its failure to compete with the earlier films or delighted with its improvement over the fourth, ill-conceived outing. With exotic locations, Teutonic villains, time travel, giant bugs, eel-filled waters, and enough stolen car chases for a dozen films, Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny neither improves nor weakens the franchise. 

Disney recently announced that The Dial of Destiny is the final entry. And while not perfect closure, it is good enough to draw the curtain on four decades of epic adventure.

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

by -
0 731
Scarlett Johansson in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Focus Features

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Auteur Wes Anderson’s first feature film was Bottle Rocket (1996), based on a short he made in 1994 with Luke and Owen Wilson. His sophomore outing, Rushmore (1998), brought him to prominence. The quirky, line-crossing comedy follows a high school student (Jason Schwartzman) with a crush on a fifth-grade teacher (Olivia Williams).The film featured Bill Murray in the first of nine collaborations with the director. 

With a focus on (and often delight in) the dysfunctional and a sense of heightened reality, Anderson’s works (for which he not only directed by served as writer and producer) have included The Royal Tenenbaums (2001), The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou (2004), The Darjeeling Limited (2007), The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014), and The French Dispatch (2021).

His films have received fifteen Academy Award nominations (winning four, all for The Grand Budapest Hotel). In addition, the works have 20 BAFTA nominations (winning five) and 10 Golden Globes (winning two). 

To discuss Anderson’s latest offering, Asteroid City, two terms are helpful. The first is “meta.” Definitions of “meta” vary slightly. The most accessible is Merriam-Webster’s informal explanation: “showing or suggesting an explicit awareness of itself or oneself as a member of its category; cleverly self-referential.” It goes on to cite various examples:

“The Bar?” she said. “I know the place. Been meaning to drop by. Love the name. Very meta.” — Gillian Flynn

A new comedy about fantasy football, which follows a group of armchair quarterbacks as they try to tackle life. How meta would it be if people started betting on what was going to happen on the show? — TV Guide

Leave it to Larry [David] to contort public desire for a Seinfeld reunion into a meta plot that chronicles his not-necessarily-noble struggle to pull off a Seinfeld reunion. —Dan Snierson

The second term is “shaggy dog story.”

Again, let us turn to Merriam-Webster: “of, relating to, or being a long-drawn-out circumstantial story concerning an inconsequential happening that impresses the teller as humorous or interesting but the hearer as boring and pointless.”

And therein explains the meta-comedy/shaggy dog story Asteroid City, one hundred and five minutes of tedious indulgence that evokes an occasional strained chuckle but otherwise ceaselessly plods to a non-conclusion. 

A Rod Serling-like host (Bryan Cranston) introduces a television show following the creation of a play penned by world-famous writer Conrad Earp (Edward Norton). The black-and-white framing device evokes the earliest days of television. Earp’s play, Asteroid City (presented widescreen in vivid shades of sherbet), tells of the titular desert town hosting a youth astronomy convention. The action shifts between the presentation of the play and the television special. Some might complain that the documentary gimmick interferes with the narrative action. However, this is a minor cavil since the story plays in virtual stagnation.

Anderson creates a story where everything means something, even if it doesn’t. The 1955 world of the Cold War, atom bomb testing, a movie star, singing cowboys, a grieving widower, and a host of odd types and situations parade limply through the convoluted plot. Eventually, the assorted characters end up under government quarantine when an alien briefly appears, stealing a meteorite fragment. 

There is enormous potential for commentary and outrageous, pointed humor between the two worlds- the theatrical and the narrative. However, Anderson misses on almost every count. Even his concept of a three-act play bears no sense of understanding, with its only true reference to the indication of scenes.

He has assembled an all-star cast (many veterans of his films), headed by Jason Schwartzman (as the widower) and Scarlett Johansson (as the movie star), supported by first-rate talents including Tom Hanks, Jeffrey Wright, Tilda Swinton, Adrien Brody, Liev Schreiber, Hope Davis, Matt Dillon, Steve Carell, Hong Chau, Willem Dafoe, and Margot Robbie. 

Sadly, they all give the same performance—or rather, the idea of a performance of a performance. Everyone speaks in an identically flat cadence, lips barely parting like poorly skilled ventriloquists, mouthing pretentious dialogue, wanting—but failing—to be outrageously quippy or metaphorically deep. Rarely has so much talent gone for so little. 

The only interest rests in the two-dimensional visuals, alternating between crisp black-and-white and hyper-rich colors, the work of cinematographer Robert Yeoman. A few whimsical pieces—vending machines that dispense martinis complete with lemon twists or others that offer valueless desert real estate—evoke a weary smile. But again, not enough to sustain the short but interminable running time.

Great art manifests best when the whole is greater than the sum of its parts. What happens when there is no center? When the whole is a hole? Several times, the lead actor complains, “I don’t understand the play.” The director’s response: “But just keep doing it.” Well, perhaps not.

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

by -
0 388
Lake, voiced by Ava Hauser; Ember, voiced by Leah Lewis; and Wade, voiced by Mamoudou Athie, in a scene from 'Elemental.' Image courtesy of Disney/Pixar

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Elemental marks Pixar’s twenty-seventh animated feature. The most successful include the four Toy Story movies, Finding Nemo, Monsters, Inc., Cars and its sequels, WALL-E, Coco, Inside Out, and most recently, the unusual but fascinating Lightyear. 

Director Peter Sohn pitched the idea for Elemental to Pixar after the release of The Good Dinosaur (2015). The son of immigrants, Sohn took inspiration from his childhood in the culturally diverse 1970s New York City, as well as romantic films such as Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967), Moonstruck (1987), and Amélie (2001). 

In a 2022 Variety interview, Sohn explained: “Maybe it’s because when I was a kid, I really didn’t appreciate or understand what it meant to be an immigrant, to come to the U.S., and all the hard work that [my parents] did to give my brother and me our lives […] On the other side, I married someone that wasn’t Korean, and there was a lot of culture clash with that in my world. And that brought to me to this idea of finding opposites. And the question of what if fire fell in love with water came.”

While perhaps not the most brilliant of the studio’s output (Toy Story, Coco), Elemental is a surprisingly clever, heartfelt story of opposites uniting. Set in a world of the elements—fire, water, earth, and air—daughter of Fireland immigrants, Ember Lumen, becomes involved with water element Wade Ripple, an easily flustered water inspector. 

After Ember causes a plumbing accident in her father’s convenience store, The Fireplace, Wade appears in the soaked basement. An adventure ensues throughout Element City, with the unlikely pair joining forces to solve the immediate situation, then becoming involved in solving a greater problem within the community. Ember learns to curtail her destructive temper, but equally as important, she learns to speak her truth.

The film tackles multiple issues with style and finesse. The story’s foundation focuses on honoring one’s culture and the sacrifices often entailed. But it also celebrates the individual’s pursuit of personal happiness. Much of the screenplay (by John Hoberg, Kat Likkel, and Brenda Hsueh) addresses bias and hostility regarding the treatment of immigrants. Boldly shown in the prologue, Ember’s parents, newly arrived, are shut out of living quarters controlled by people of earth, air, and water. There is also the issue of the burden often placed on first-generation children to continue what their parents have started. The film smartly addresses this with great sensitivity without resorting to preaching.

Ultimately, Elemental is a traditional rom-com, with all the hurdles and pitfalls, and even a dating montage—but an entirely unique setting. (This more adult slant in the film lost some of the younger audience members who became restless as the film progressed.) However, the gloriously exquisite animation is a joy, the anthropomorphizing creating a perfect blending of human and “other.” The visual puns are matched by the cleverly ever-present, sometimes subtle—and often not so subtle—wordplay.

While not as starry as many of the Pixar catalogue, the vocal talent is first-rate. Leah Lewis embodies Ember’s struggle with wry wit and genuine charm. Mamoudou Athie presents Wade’s growth from mildly neurotic underachiever to hero, never losing his kind center. Ronnie del Carmen and Shila Vosough Ommi play Ember’s parents with the right blend of love and whimsy, arcing from frustration to acceptance. 

Catherine O’Hara is delightful as Wade’s mother, Brook Ripple, featured in a hilarious dinner party where Ember is both welcomed and mildly embarrassed by the overly and overtly emotional Wade clan. This scene leads to Ember’s pointed comment on Wade’s rich-kid-follow-your-heart family, said with vexation tinged with a hint of jealousy. In what amounts to a cameo, Wendi McLendon-Covey’s Gale Cumulus, Wade’s employer, makes a bigger-than-life impression in an appropriately grand performance.

Starting with the premise “Elements don’t mix,” touching on the bonds and struggles of parents and children, building to a love that crosses boundaries, and culminating with a message of acceptance and love, Elemental may never become a classic, but it sits easily—and proudly—in the Pixar family.

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

*A bonus, “Carl’s Date,” precedes the feature. The Up short marks one of the final works of Ed Asner, who passed away in 2021. The sweet piece shows a gentler side of the curmudgeonly Carl as he prepares for a date while being advised by the “talking” dog, Dug. It is an ideal complement to the romantic elements of Elemental. 

by -
0 561
Halle Bailey stars as 'The Little Mermaid'. Photo courtesy of Disney

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

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

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

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

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

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

Javier Bardem as King Triton. Photo courtesy of Disney

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by -
0 644
Ashley Brooke and Bel Powley in a scene from 'A Small Light'. Photo from NatGeo

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Prev123...19Next Page 2 of 19
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

©