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Movie Review

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A scene from Disney's 'Encanto'. Photo courtesy of Walt Disney Animation Studios

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

The question of “What is a gift?” is the driving force of Disney’s 60th feature film, Encanto. Set in the mountains of Columbia, in an unspecified “once upon a time,” Encanto is one of Disney’s finest and most sophisticated animated musicals. Exquisitely directed by Byron Howard and Jared Bush (with a screenplay by Bush and Charise Castro Smith), this is a memorable story of family and responsibility.

Fleeing from marauding conquerors, Alma Madrigal loses her husband, Pedro, but saves her infant triplets. An “Encanto” is a charm; here, the spell is in a candle. The magical force of the candle creates the “casita”—a magic home for Alma and her children.

A scene from Disney’s ‘Encanto’. Photo courtesy of Walt Disney Animation Studios

The Encanto blesses each member of the Madrigal family with a special power. Together, these “gifts” help maintain the community. But what happens when that gift brings visions no one wants to know? Or, even more challenging, when a child seemingly has no gift at all? The latter is the case with granddaughter Mirabel, the heart of the narrative and, ultimately, the center and savior of family and village.

Mirabel is a quirky, frustrated young woman; smart and articulate but under-appreciated. Her mother, aunt, sister, and cousins outshine her with their showy skills. Julieta, Mirabel’s mother, heals any ailment with food. Gorgeous Isabela, Mirabel’s oldest sister, is considered perfect and makes flowers bloom. Just behind Isabela is Louisa, a girl of Herculean strength. Aunt Carolina’s emotions control the weather; she is often followed by her own cloud hovering over her head. Cousin Adassa has unparalleled hearing. Cousin Rhenzy is a shapeshifter, taking on the appearance of anyone he meets. Cousin Ravi-Cabot communicates with animals. 

While seemingly wonderful, these powers carry burdens as well, shared in often hilarious and telling ways.

The action goes into gear on the day Cousin Ravi-Cabot is to receive his gift. Mirabel, his favorite cousin, gives him the strength to face whatever is to come his way. While everyone is celebrating, Mirabel sees the house beginning to crack and the candle in danger of being snuffed. Her alarm is revealed to be a vision, but most do not—or choose not—to believe her. She embarks on a quest to solve the danger, encountering her Uncle Bruno, who had disappeared after his prognostications were met with resistance. 

With the knowledge gathered from Bruno, Mirabel understands her course and the dangers it includes.

Encanto is emotionally complicated and avoids preciousness. There is humor and plenty of magic, but the lessons it imparts are genuine. 

A scene from Disney’s ‘Encanto’. Photo courtesy of Walt Disney Animation Studios

Encanto is perhaps the least saccharine of any Disney film. Visually, the film is extraordinary, exploding with color and action. The house itself is a dynamic character, with its communicating tiles, floorboards that deliver slippers, and an alarm clock that nudges the householders to move along. 

The characters are charmingly animated, simultaneously broad and subtle. But, in the end, the film’s imparting is the all-important message that gifts do not have to be flashy and that miracles come from belief, perseverance, and love. The film never loses sight of these morals.

The vocal talent is exceptional. Stephanie Beatriz’s Mirabel is tremendous, portraying a struggling soul, imbuing her with perfect comedic timing and profound humanity. John Leguizamo’s Uncle Bruno uses twitchy antics to very slightly mask the character’s underlying sadness. Diane Guerrero’s seemingly vain Isabela finds new shades in her transformation. 

In Luisa, Jessica Darrow shows the drain of never complaining. And Maria Cecilia Botero raises the grandmother above caricature, finding depth and pain in the matriarch who comes to terms with her misplaced iron will. (Many of the actors will be voicing the Spanish language version as well.)

Hamilton/In the Heights’ Lin-Manuel Miranda has fashioned a serviceable and pleasant score, but the film stands on its own. An attempt to introduce the roster in “The Family Madrigal” doesn’t quite succeed but establishes the world in which the tale occurs. The strongest numbers are “Dos Orguitas,” a haunting tune sung in Spanish, and the joyous finale “All of You.” 

Preceding Encanto is Far From the Tree, a wordless short about a raccoon parent protecting its child with tough love. While simple and traditionally animated, the two pieces share how families relate and the deep-rooted desire to protect. They are perfect compliments, sharing overlapping cores, with Far From the Tree delicate and Encanto spark and sparkle.

In the end, Encanto teaches not just acceptance within a family but how family and community come together. These are big concepts, and younger viewers might not get them the first time. But like the best of family features—The Toy Story series, Coco, etc.—Encanto will be one that children will return to as they grow. 

And that said, there is much for everyone to relish in this beautiful and beautifully told tale

Rated PG, Encanto is now playing in local theaters.

 

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From left, reporter Tom Cullen, editor Art Cullen and publisher John Cullen of the Storm Lake Times.

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

“Readers decide our future. Not any branch of government.”

Sixty-five million Americans live in news deserts—counties with only one local newspaper or none at all. In the past fifteen years, one in four newspapers has shuttered in the U.S. Storm Lake, the fascinating documentary by Jerry Risius and Beth Levison, follows The Storm Lake Times, a family-run paper located in Buena Vista County, Iowa. Operating at break-even, The Times, a twice-weekly paper, is one of the last of its kind.

Editor Art Cullen at his desk at the Storm Lake Times

Located in the northwest corner of the state, Storm Lake is home to about 11,000 residents. Originally an almost exclusively Caucasian community, it now contains a large Latino population. Tyson Foods employs over 2,200 workers at its hog slaughterhouse, meatpacking plant, and turkey processing plant.

In ninety well-crafted minutes, Storm Lake offers a portrait of the small-town newspaper industry and a family whose goal is to keep it alive. Founded in 1990 by John Cullen, The Storm Lake Times’ face and voice is Art Cullen, John’s brother. Art, a benign curmudgeon and county’s Democratic voice, presents somewhat like a hippie Mark Twain. At age 59, he received the 2017 Pulitzer Prize for Editorial Writing. He “ask[s] the big questions, speak[s] truth to power, and share[s] the struggles and successes of his unique community.” The paper is a liberal bastion in the predominantly conservative area.

The Times has ten employees, including Art’s son, Tom, who is the main reporter. Founder John explains that he donates his salary because he is on Social Security. Art’s wife, Mary, can be seen taking pictures and writing features. Art’s sister-in-law provides the recipe column. The family dog, Peach, lolls on the office floor or rides along with drop-offs. 

Leisure editor Mary Cullen of the Storm Lake Times

The film smartly divides its focus between the big and small pictures. As a result, the day-to-day life of the paper contrasts with larger events. Advertising is the lifeblood of any paper, and The Storm Lake Times grapples with filling its quota. Most of the revenue derives from mom-and-pop stores, but large corporations have driven many out of business. 

There are many happy stories: births, local celebrities, “Miss Pigtails,” educational advancements, and county fairs. Local government is given the same weight as national politics. For their readers, garbage pickup is more important than a presidential hopeful’s visit. “Local journalism is the heart of telling the local story.” The report on Ice Out Day, when the ice melts, encompasses a reference to climate change. The Times follows a local Tyson plant worker who is moving forward on a Spanish language talent show. 

The paper never shies away from addressing issues of prejudice, extremely important in its growing immigrant community. The story of eight-year-old Julio Barroso, who was deported along with his family, is highlighted; the staff tracked him down in Mexico twenty-two years later. In addition, a partnership is developed with the Spanish paper La Prensa to share content and ads.

The staff listens to its community and responds to their thoughts and criticism. “There are consequences for everything we do, and we feel that feedback immediately,” says John.

Storm Lake Times editor Art Cullen interviews Elizabeth Warren in a scene from the film.

Broader politics included the coverage of The Heartland Presidential Forum, with major Democratic candidates speaking: Art Cullen was the draw. He interviewed Elizabeth Warren, Julio Castro, and Amy Klobuchar, among others. The Iowa Caucus occupies much of the middle and latter half of the film. But even here, there is a discussion about the cutting down of the paper’s TV listings from eighty channels to thirty-one to save space and money. Risius and Levison never lose sight of the myriad challenges.

The end of the film deals with the COVID crisis, and specifically, the Tyson plants. The Storm Lake Times reported on the disproportionate number of immigrants endangered by their work in unsafe conditions. Art states that this is “subtle racism—but racism all the same.” The Tyson operation became the hottest spot in the country for COVID cases. 

The denouement shifts briefly to the paper’s labors to survive the pandemic when “ads fell off a cliff,” and Art and John thought of closing the paper. Fortunately, with a go-fund-me and other support, The Storm Lake Times survived. With its new website, it reaches 1.2 million readers per month.

Storm Lake contains the expected filler of printing and binding papers, along with stacks dropped off in stores and machines. Occasionally, there is something meta about the documentarians shooting the television on which Art appears on a talk show. But there are wonderful extended quotes from many of Art’s insightful and passionate editorials. In addition, the documentarians know when to let the film breathe: a talk about feeding the dog, a discussion of a new shirt, or briefly watching Art pick the cashews out of a can of mixed nuts all add to the humanity.

In a world where people want their news for free, Storm Lake is a powerful and important reminder about local journalism’s responsibility, value, and contribution. The film ends on the hopeful note that good journalism elevates a community by reporting on what is good. 

“You can change the world through journalism. The reporter is the cornerstone in a functioning democracy. And without strong local journalism, the fabric of the place becomes frayed.”

For a free viewing of the film, visit www.pbs.org/independentlens/documentaries/storm-lake/.

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Pablo Pauly and Bill Murray in a scene from the film. Photo from Searchlight Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Auteur Wes Anderson’s works are an eclectic mix. From Rushmore and The Royal Tenenbaums to The Fantastic Mr. Fox and Moonrise Kingdom, his voice and vision are unique among filmmakers. Quirky characters in fast-paced comedies carry an underlying melancholy and introspection. His films have received a total of fifteen Academy Award nominations. The Grand Budapest Hotel (2014) received nine nominations and won four.

Now Anderson has written and directed a star-studded omnibus, The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun. Newspaper editor Arthur Howitzer, Jr. (Bill Murray) dies of a heart attack, leaving instructions to close the paper following a farewell issue. The final publication is to feature three articles from past editions, along with Howitzer’s obituary.

This thin framework is the basis for an anthology of three peculiar tales from the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun’s French foreign bureau, located in Ennui. Each vignette focuses on one of the staff writers. Perhaps the stories are meant to be a send-up of a particular genre; the overall tone is firmly tongue-in-cheek, more spoof than satire.

In the first (“The Concrete Masterpiece”), J.K.L. Berensen (Tilda Swinton) tells of an artist, Moses Rosenthaler (Benicio del Toro), serving a prison term for double murder. While incarcerated, he paints a series of prison guard Simone (Léa Seydoux), that comes to the attention of another prisoner, Julien Cadazio (Adrien Brody). Cadazio (based on controversial British art dealer Lord Duveen) feels he has found the ideal modern artist. When released, he approaches his uncles (Henry Winkler and Bob Balaban) to embark on an exhibition of Rosenthaler’s work. The fly in the ointment is that Rosenthaler has painted the works on the prison walls.

In “Revisions of a Manifesto,” Lucinda Krementz (Frances McDormand) is a correspondent reporting on the “Chessboard Revolution.” While becoming involved with a much younger Zeffirelli (Timothée Chalamet), the bumbling leader of the revolt, she claims that she can maintain journalistic distance and integrity. In addition to their romantic liaison, Krementz rewrites Zeffirelli’s manifesto, including an appendix. 

The final chapter is “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner.” Reporter Roebuck Wright (Jeffrey Wright), a nod to James Baldwin and A.J. Liebling, recounts the kidnapping of Gigi (Winston Ait Hellal), the son of the Ennui police commissioner (Mathieu Amalric), by a criminal syndicate. Police officer/noted chef Lt. Nescaffier (Stephen Park) becomes the hero through an elaborate poisoning. 

The plots are simple: a send-up of modern art (with a prison movie slant); a parody of young rebels and pointless causes; and a cops-and-robbers noir. But the telling is either brilliantly twisted or frustratingly convoluted, depending on the point-of-view. While ostensibly an homage to the day of the printed magazine (i.e., The New Yorker), the visual gymnastics are the driving force. Both cinematically steroidal (including rich black-and-white and vivid pop-art color, an awareness of the artifice of the sets, and even an animated car chase) and meta-theatrical (tableaux vivant), The French Dispatch is an often absorbing, wholly strange, and indefinable two hours.

The first-rate cast is clearly game for Anderson’s world. They play in a style that could be described as hyper-low key—sly, wry, and somehow conscious of the audience. In addition to the previously mentioned, appearances include an extraordinary ensemble in roles both large and small: Owen Wilson, Elizabeth Moss, Jason Schwartzman, Fisher Stevens, Lois Smith, Larry Pine, Christoph Waltz, Liev Schreiber, Edward Norton, Willem Dafoe, and Saoirse Ronan. Anjelica Huston is the omniscient narrator.

Some will find The French Dispatch a delightful and engaging absurdist meringue, visually striking, playing on multiple levels. Others might see it as a pretentious shaggy dog story, an in-joke of epic and head-scratching proportions. In any case, it would be impossible to experience this movie and not have an opinion.

Rated R, The French Dispatch is now playing in local theaters.

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Anya Taylor-Joy, left, and Thomasin McKenzie in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Focus Features

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Director Edgar Wright’s best-known work includes Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and Baby Driver. In a strong departure from his more satiric work, Last Night in Soho is an entertaining psychological thriller, mixing familiar tropes with clever, original ideas. Wright nods towards British horror films of an earlier era and a shadowy look at the “Swinging Sixties.” If the ending does not quite live up to its potential, it is a minor cavil in a fast-paced two hours.

Eloise (a riveting Thomasin McKenzie) leaves her sheltered Cornwall home for London to study fashion design. After her mother’s death (due to an unspecified mental illness that drove her to suicide), “Ellie” was raised by her grandmother (fluttering and supportive Rita Tushingham). Ellie has two passions: fashion and the 1960s, illustrated in a spot-on (if a bit on-the-nose) opening with her dancing in a newspaper gown to the sounds of “A World Without Love.” However, rather than feeling precious, there is more than a hint of frailty and even menace in a seemingly benign sequence.

Anya Taylor-Joy, left, and Thomasin McKenzie in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Parisa Taghizadeh / Focus Features

While anxious to have a career in high fashion to which her mother aspired, scholarship student Ellie finds the cutthroat university world overwhelming. Her roommate, mean girl Jocasta (Synnøve Karlsen, doing the best she can with the caricature), drives her out of their shared student housing. 

Ellie rents a top-floor apartment from the no-nonsense Ms. Collins (the final performance of the great Diana Rigg). Once ensconced in the bedsitter, Ellie begins having visions of Sandie (The Queen’s Gambit’s Anya Taylor-Joy, radiant and disturbed in equal measure). Sandie is a self-assured would-be singer in an idealized, peripatetic 1960s London.

Whether Ellie is transported back to 1965 or is having visions (or both) is part of the premise. Sometimes she sees herself reflected as Sandie. Other times, Ellie is outside Sandie, watching her. In any case, she experiences what Sandie does. At first, Ellie is delighted, finding joy in the new feelings. But quickly, the encounters turn. A talent manager, Jack (Matt Smith, oily and dangerous), engages Sandie. But Jack is a vicious, manipulative pimp, and Sandie’s life becomes a nightmare from which Ellie cannot escape.

Terence Stamp makes the most of a mysterious gentleman who seems to straddle both worlds, haunting Ellie in the pub where she has taken a job as well as the neighborhood itself. Michael Ajao’s John is warm and fully present as the fellow student who has feelings for Ellie. He owns the tricky balance of supporting Ellie but not furthering what he perceives as her delusions. 

Rigg mines depth in the wry and knowing landlady, with a final scene that skirts predictability through a dimensional, effortless, and mesmerizing performance. 

The film is strongest when it leans into the psychological elements of the story. The screenplay, by director Wright, along with Krysty Wilson-Cairns, presents two conflicted heroines. 

Ellie battles with inner demons that prevent her from adjusting to city life. The struggles are fully awakened—and acerbated—by her presence in the room where Sandie lived. Sandie fights the terrors of her horrific day-to-day life of fear and forced prostitution. Wright has created a relationship that is complementary and symbiotic and that somehow runs parallel and intersects. 

Both McKenzie and Taylor-Joy give extraordinary, textured performances, showing two individuals in search of identity. (There are some obvious but nonetheless telling moments dealing with names.) Both actors palpably manifest a powerful connection in their disconnected worlds.

Wright has used his soundtrack to great advantage, using the songs as commentary on the narrative. The nearly two dozen numbers include “Wishin’ and Hopin’,” “You’re My World,” “Puppet on a String,” “(Love Is Like a) Heatwave,” “Don’t Throw Your Love Away,” and Taylor-Joy’s acapella rendition of Petula Clark’s signature “Downtown” which is simultaneously alluring and chilling.

Clearly, Roman Polanski’s Repulsion has inspired Wright; the 1965 Catherine Deneuve film dealt with sex, violence, and a descent into madness. Where Last Night in Soho is weakest is in the horror department. The spirits take on an almost creature-feature appearance and undermine the more cerebral, edgier aspects. Cinematographer Chung-hoon Chung presents a muted present-day London while the flashbacks are initially vivid and colorful before shifting to darker hues as Sandie’s world crumbles.

While by no means a perfect film, Last Night in Soho is an excellent antidote for mindless slasher films (Halloween Kills) that seem to spring up this time of year. The film offers strong performances and an entertaining, twisty addition to the world of psychological thrillers. 

Rated R, Last Night in Soho is now playing in local theaters.

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Nick Castle as Michael Myers in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

The Halloween franchise boasts eleven films, including seven in the first series (with the third an unconnected entry), a reboot, and a continuation of its premiere track. The most recent, Halloween (2018), is now joined by Halloween Kills.

Jamie Lee Curtis and Judy Greer in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

While falling into the category of “slasher movie,” Halloween (1978) remains one of the finest thrillers. Taut, brooding, and atmospheric, it relied on shadows, tension, and an unforgettable score to create its horror. John Carpenter directed and co-wrote the film that remains definitive in the genre. In addition, the film catapulted its lead, Jamie Lee Curtis, to Scream Queen stardom. She presented Laurie Strode as a self-actualized and resourceful heroine. Curtis would reprise the role four more times in addition to Halloween Kills and Halloween Ends (projected for release in 2022).

Ignoring much of the mythology developed during the progressively less inspired sequels, the well-received Halloween (2018) picked up forty years after the original film, with institutionalized killer Michael Myers (once again Nick Castle and James Jude Courtney) escaping while being transferred to a maximum-security prison. After returning to Haddonfield and embarking on a killing spree, he “dies” in Laurie’s burning home. The film emphasized Laurie as a wounded survivor, finding the inner strength to confront her living nightmare. The script—by Jeff Fradley, Danny McBride, and David Gordon Green—honored the story’s roots. Carpenter praised the outing, noting the strength of the screenplay and Green’s direction.

It would be easy to say things like Halloween Kills … an hour and forty-six minutes of your life. Or Halloween Kills … the desire to go to the movies. Or Halloween Kills … a franchise. It would be easy to pick this low-hanging fruit. So, I won’t say any of those things. 

Halloween Kills is a movie cobbled together with brutal violence and an absence of actual conflict. It serves as a placeholder between the first film, which reintroduced the characters, and the third (and hopefully final) chapter that concludes Laurie’s journey. That Michael Myers must survive to complete the trilogy is a given. Nevertheless, it does not need to be so painfully generic. In the first fifteen minutes, Michael slaughters an entire team of first responders. What follows is one meaningless killing after another.

The film makes the egregious error of showing flashbacks to the Halloween (and Halloween) of 1978. However, these newly shot scenes lack the meditative, shadowed world of the original. Instead, they are overwrought, introducing information with only the slightest nod towards character development. Additionally, the use of footage of Donald Pleasance (the powerful, understated Dr. Loomis of the source film) is a reminder of the complete absence of style and substance in this newest incarnation.

Having been stabbed in the abdomen, Laurie spends almost the entire film in a hospital bed (shades of Halloween II’s hospital location). Sidelining the strongest character is a mistake. Saddling an actor of Jamie Lee Curtis’s caliber with embarrassingly clumsy dialogue is a crime.

The roster of townspeople is a mix of new characters and shout-outs to minor characters in the original. Some of the 1978 cast returns to play themselves forty years later; others are the grown-up versions of the children hunted that fateful night. 

Anthony Michael Hall is the adult Tommy, the boy Laurie was babysitting. The role edges to slightly more than one dimension. At a bar talent night(!), Tommy shares the story of “The Bogeyman,” who terrorized the town. His character misfires on every level, trading trauma for campfire whimsy and rally-round-the-pitchfork-boys. Among the new victims for the stalk-dispatch-repeat are an African American couple (she’s a doctor; he’s a nurse) and a gay couple (Big John and Little John). Please don’t get too invested in the diversity; they are all undefined fodder for the knife.

Worst of all, in a nod to topicality, the creators introduce the dangers of mob mentality and vigilante justice. “Evil dies tonight!” they chant. Multiple times. Declarations such as “No, he’s turning us into monsters,” “The more he kills, the more he transcends,” and “He is the essence of evil” don’t elevate the situation.

The performances never overstep the awkward script. Judy Greer (as Karen Nelson, Laurie’s daughter), Andi Matichak (as Allyson Nelson, Laurie’s granddaughter),  and Will Patton (as Deputy Frank Hawkins) continue their paths from Halloween (2018). Greer, a talented actor, is a cipher. It is also hard to believe that her husband was murdered by Michael this same night. It is as if the year between the release of the films has allowed her to accept it. The storyline and timeline are bizarrely disconnected. 

For those looking for a predictable, sadistic bloodbath, Halloween Kills might be for you. But, for those hoping for plot, motivation, thought, tone, and engagement … well, there’s always next Halloween. Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters.

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Other seasonal fair to consider: the Candyman reboot; Malignant, the twisty thriller from James Wan; Lamb, the story of a human/sheep hybrid; Last Night in Soho, a psychological time-travel film with a horror overtone; malevolent forces in Shepherd; and the supernatural creature-feature Antlers, starring Keri Russell. (Please note: These films have not been reviewed by TBR News Media.)

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Michael Gandolfini as a young Tony Soprano and Alessandro Nivola as Dickie Moltisanti in a scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

By Jeffrey Sanzel

“It’s not T.V. It’s HBO.” 

This promotional phrase captured the viewing public’s attention, promoting a shift in the nature and caliber of the small screen. With Oz, Six Feet Under, Curb Your Enthusiasm, The Wire, Sex and the City, and Game of Thrones, the subscription service elevated quality and expectations. 

But, perhaps the show that truly launched the revolution was The Sopranos (1999-2007). And no anti-hero captured imaginations more than Tony Soprano, vividly brought to life in an award-winning performance by the late James Gandolfini. For eighty-six episodes, over six seasons, the New Jersey mob boss struggled with personal and professional demons. 

The Sopranos transformed the gangster/crime genre into an event that was perpetually brutal, darkly humorous, and almost always surprising. The ensemble cast, headed by Gandolfini and Edie Falco, was nothing short of flawless. Yet, even when it strayed from its strengths, it was still the most watchable and addictive show on television.

A scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Sopranos creator David Chase has co-penned the screenplay (with Lawrence Konner) for The Many Saints of Newark, a prequel spanning 1967 to the mid-70s. Focusing on Dickie Moltisanti (father of The Sopranos’ Christopher, played by Michael Imperioli, who narrates from beyond the grave), the story draws on the same well as its source: allegiances and betrayals, violence, and family. 

Once again, it is a realm of street shootings, hypocritical funerals, heaping trays of pasta, neglected wives, and abused mistresses. Adding texture and weight to the narrative are the race riots of Newark, as seen through the eyes of Harold McBrayer (Leslie Odom, Jr., making every moment count), an African American associate of the crime family. Though not fully realized, the unrest reflects our contemporary turbulent times.

While Tony’s father, Johnny (Jon Bernthal), is shown going to and returning from prison, the film keeps him surprisingly in the periphery. Dickie’s relationship with his father (a slightly over-the-top Ray Liotta), his father’s immigrant wife (Michela De Rossi, finding depth), and Tony (played by William Ludwig as a boy and James Gandolfini’s son, Michael Gandolfini, as a teenager) are the driving forces. 

As Dickie, Alessandro Nivola embodies bravado affected by doubt and guilt. Some of the strongest moments featured his father’s imprisoned twin brother (played with a fascinating edge and subtlety by Liotta). Like The Soprano’s Tony, the shadow of doubt and the battle with moral conflict enrich Nivola’s hoodlum.

The draw in The Many Saints of Newark comes from familiarity with the world Chase created. Saints is, in theory, a standalone film, but the mythology is rooted in what comes next. It is unlikely that people new to The Sopranos will be intrigued enough to explore the original; the film is fan-centric and for devotees. 

The most entertaining moments are the ones that reference the characters’ latter selves. John Magaro, as Silvio Dante, finds Steven Van Zandt’s peculiar walk and definitive speech pattern. While given very little to say, Samson Moeakiola’s Big Pussy is a ringer for a young Vincent Pastore. However, with their screen time, these almost feel like cameos or Easter Eggs. 

A scene from the film. Photo courtesy of Warner Bros.

Glimpses of Janice, Carmela, Jackie Aprile, and Artie Bucco are more a Where’s Waldo? than resonating additions to the overall landscape. (Corey Stoll as Junior Soprano fails to capture the essence of Dominic Chianese’s eccentric second fiddle.) The result is recognition of familiar lines or reactions rather than engrossment in the complexity of character.

Vera Farmiga is the exception. She consistently evokes Tony’s elder monster-mother Livia (the indelible creation of Nancy Marchand). Farmiga finds the broad strokes as well as the nuance in the mercurial Soprano matriarch. A simple kitchen interaction with the teenage Tony (Gandolfini) embodies the relationship core to the entire series.

The film conjures the era, shot with a brisk pace and an eye for detail by veteran Sopranos director Alan Taylor, and the gritty, period cinematography of Kramer Morgenthau (whose work has included Boardwalk Empire and Game of Thrones).

If anything, the movie offers new life to a departed show that was universally mourned by its faithful followers. It is less a driving narrative and more meditative (though violently so): Chase offers a slice of Mafia life. And while there is an arc, there is no sense of finality. 

Without James Gandolfini, a return of the television show seems unlikely. So rather than a reboot, Saints heralds a possible film series exploring what led up to where The Sopranos began. Whether these come to fruition remains to be seen. In the meantime, The Many Saints of Newark compellingly sheds some light on what came before.

Rated R, the film is now playing in local theaters and streaming on HBO Max.

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A scene from 'Dear Evan Hansen'. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures
Film adaptation celebrates the essence of an unforgettable musical

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Lillian Hellman’s The Children’s Hour was touted as a play exploring “the power of a lie.” The same could be said of Dear Evan Hansen, the Broadway musical that opened in 2016 and had played over 1,300 performances before the shutdown. It returns to its home at the Music Box on December 11.

Evan Hansen is a high school senior with social anxiety. His therapist has assigned him to write self-encouraging letters (thus the title). The school outcast, Connor Murphy, steals one. When Connor commits suicide, the letter is found in his pocket. The boy’s family finds solace in the idea that he had a close friend in Evan. Instead of explaining the mistake, out of a mix of sympathy, sensitivity, and fear, Evan goes along with the misunderstanding. However, the situation becomes a bigger issue when Connor’s memory becomes a cause. And while his intentions are initially good, the lie ultimately becomes destructive.

Ben Platt and Julianne Moore in a scene from ‘Dear Evan Hansen’. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

Benj Pasek, who wrote the score with Justin Paul, based the idea on an incident that occurred in his Philadelphia high school. Collaborating with book writer Steven Levenson, they created a smash hit that received critical accolades and garnered dozens of awards. Its six Tony’s included Best Musical, Best Book of a Musical, Best Original Score, and Best Actor in a Musical for Ben Platt’s star turn as the titular character. 

Platt is the sole member of the stage company to recreate a role in the screen version. Much has been said (predominantly online) about Platt being too old to play Evan, but this is unfounded carping. His portrayal of the tormented teen is nothing short of devastating. He has skillfully adapted his stage persona for the screen, finding depth and subtlety, with his voice soaring from first to last. Platt’s Hansen is a gift, and a reminder of the countless stage performances lost to Hollywood productions featuring bigger names of far lesser skill.

Levenson has fashioned a smart and effective screenplay, opening it up just enough but maintaining the stage version’s intimacy and integrity. Steven Chbosky’s direction ably captures Evan’s isolation, especially in the opening “Waving Through a Window,” but there is a sense of repetition in the endless panning shots. In addition, Chbosky and Levenson rely a bit too heavily on quickly inserted fantasy shots that don’t quite land. But, overall, they have transformed the musical into a satisfying cinematic experience, and the expanded ending is richer and more fulfilling than the original.

The driving force in the musical was the score, a unique and melodious contemporary Broadway sound. Four songs have been cut for the film, so Platt now carries about eighty percent of the music. The elimination of “Does Anybody Have a Map?” clearly emphasizes Evan’s journey, which somehow marginalizes the families (or at least the adult singers). And while there is logic to the change, the choice is a loss of a perfect song and establishing the story’s larger world.

Ben Platt and Amandla Stenberg in a scene from ‘Dear Evan Hansen’. Photo courtesy of Universal Pictures

One of the early highlights is the cleverly realized “Sincerely Me.” Evan recruits a family friend, Jared (the hilariously deadpan Nik Dodani), to create fake backdated emails to show Evan’s friendship with Connor (Colton Ryan, who shows great range and dimension). Platt makes every song work, but none as indelibly as his confession to Connor’s family in the devastating “Word’s Fail.”

Amy Adams and Danny Pino are honest and raw as Connor’s parents. Kaitlyn Dever is both believable and heartbreaking as Connor’s sister, Zoe, the object of Evan’s affections. The family’s “Requiem” trio shows their distance and struggle. Dever and Platt’s duet “Only Us” genuinely captures their unlikely burgeoning romance. Julianne Moore is fully present as Evan’s mostly absent mother. But her vocal skills are limited, and while there is an adjustment in her one number (“So Big/So Small”), the tentative vocal quality doesn’t fully suit the strength of the character.

The creators have expanded and softened the role of Alana Beck (Amandla Stenberg), the overachiever who heads up the Connor Project. In the play, there is a mercenary quality to Alana. Here, she is given a revelation of her issues with anxiety and depression, somehow diluting Evan’s isolation. Stenberg stunningly presents a new number—“The Anonymous Ones”—but there is something generic about both its sound and sentiment.

There is a general underplaying of the social media aspect that was hyper-present in the stage production. Film is an opportunity to explore cyberspace in a big (or even bigger) way. Instead, the creators opted for two brilliant, pivotal moments: the beautifully realized anthem “You Will Be Found” and later the online posting of the “Dear Evan Hansen” letter. However, there is a strange—and inaccurate—absence of cell phone use among the students.

But in the end, all are minor cavils. Dear Evan Hansen is a powerful, emotional, and, ultimately, important adaptation, celebrating the essence of a unique and unforgettable musical.

Rated PG-13, ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ is now playing in local theaters.

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Simu Liu in a scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios
A scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios
Simu Liu in a scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios by Jasin Boland. All Rights Reserved.
Simu Liu in a scene from 'Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings.' Photo from ©Marvel Studios

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Summer has long been the mainstay of cinematic superhero releases. Joining this season’s Black Widow and The Suicide Squad is Marvel Studio’s Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, an enjoyable, if not wholly inspired, two hours.

In the wake of the hit television show Kung Fu, the Shang-Chi character debuted in Special Marvel Edition #15 (December 1973) and starred in a solo title through 1983. Spun-off from author Sax Rohmer’s work, Shang-Chi was the unknown son of Rohmer’s arch-villain, Dr. Fu Manchu. Writer Steve Englehart stated that Shang-Chi’s name came from the study of I-Ching, with “sheng” meaning “ascending” and “chi” vital energy. After Marvel lost the rights to Rohmer’s rogue, the company renamed Shang-Chi’s father, Zheng Zu.

After a nearly five-decade history, and several attempts dating back as early as 1980, Shang-Chi has now made it to the big screen in a colorful, predictable action-adventure.

The film opens over a thousand years ago, with Xu Wenwu (Tony Leung) wielding the ten rings, bands that give extraordinary power to their holder. With his organization, the Ten Rings, behind him, he becomes a warrior-conqueror throughout hundreds of years of history. 

In 1996, he becomes obsessed with locating Ta Lo, a village said to be the home of mythical beasts. He journeys through a magical forest, where the Ta Lo village guardian, Ying Li (Fala Chen), thwarts him. The two fall in love and leave the village, living in peace with their two children. Wenwu’s enemies, the Iron Gang, murder Li, causing Wenwu to resurrect the Ten Rings. He trains his son, Shang-Chi, in martial arts. When Shang-Chi is fourteen years old, his father sends him to avenge his mother’s murder.

The film jumps to present-day San Francisco. Shang-Chi (Simu Liu), now mild-mannered parking valet “Sean,” lives a quiet, unimpressive life, palling around with his best friend, the thrill-seeking Katy (Awkwafina). After an attack by the Ten Rings, Shang-Chi shares his past with Katy, and they journey to Macau in search of Shang-Chi’s sister, Xu Xialing (Meng’er Zhang).

The intersection of legend and legacy, fantasy and family, and the all-important good versus evil follows. Thematically, the writers emphasize the idea that we are all “a product of what came before,” intersecting with the more violent “a blood debt must be paid by blood.” Shang-Chi confronts that he must “face who [he is].” Much of this works because of Simu Liu’s “Who me?” charm growing into a more self-actualized and self-aware individual. With his inherent “watchability” and appealing warmth, he easily carries the film. 

While the supporting roles are underdeveloped, the cast is more than capable. Awkafina makes for an affable sidekick who comes into her own. Leung brings the gravitas with a touch of underlying pain to the patriarch. One wishes that Zhang’s Xialing had been given a bit more dimension as there is a wealth of potential. Her struggle with a sense of childhood abandonment is touched upon but not fully realized. Ben Kingsley reprises Trevor Slattery, a character introduced in the Marvel One Shot short film All Hail the King. Without previous knowledge, this inclusion is a bit off. Kingsley is amusing, especially interacting with the mythical beast, whom he calls “Morris,” but lacking the background, the result is an unfulfilling cameo.

But the true raison d’être of the film is the many action sequences, which range from extraordinary pairings to epic battles. There are enough fights to satisfy the cravings of even the most eager fans. There are battles on a bus, in a fight club, a parking garage, a bar, a field, etc. There is a point where it almost feels like a demented Green Eggs and Ham—“Would you, could you in a …”—and insert a location. But they are all beautifully staged, the more pastoral echoing the landmark Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. 

The CGI is neatly integrated, with a range of hybrid animals and fantastical creations. While, of course, created on a vastly higher level, there are nostalgic shades in the monster encounters, reminiscent of the stop-motion animation of Ray Harryhausen or even the earlier Godzilla movies.

Director Destin Daniel Cretton collaborated on the screenplay with Dave Callaham and Andrew Lanham. And while the dialogue is often stiff and declarative (with a handful of shoehorned wisecracks), the film is busy enough to keep propelling forward. With enough plot and lots of action, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings epitomizes summer fare. And, like the majority of the genre, it will most likely be the first of many in the series.

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

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The cast of 'Cinderella'. Photo from Amazon Prime
Camila Cabello and Billy Porter in a scene from 'Cinderella' Photo: Kerry Brown/Amazon Prime
A scene from 'Cinderella'. Photo from Amazon Prime
Camilla Cabello stars in 'Cinderella'. Photo from Amazon Prime

By Jeffrey Sanzel

Cinderella has long been a cinematic staple, with various versions on the large and small screens. The story traces its roots to both Charles Perrault (1697) and the Brothers Grimm (1812), though the former gave us the glass slipper.

America’s sweetheart, Mary Pickford, appeared in the earliest known adaptation, the 1914 silent film. None is more beloved than the 1950 Disney cartoon, loosely remade as a live-action version in 2015, with a luminous Lily James. The Rodgers and Hammerstein musical has gone through three television incarnations, with Cinderella portrayed by Julie Andrews (1957), Lesley Ann Warren (1965), and Brandy (1997). Add to these the many appearances of the character in modernizations, sequels, spoofs, and revisionist fair. 

In addition, Cinderella has appeared in operas, ballets, and stage productions, including the 2013 Broadway production and Andrew Lloyd Webber’s current West End vision, replete with a Goth heroine. 

Kay Cannon, best known for the Pitch Perfect series, has written and directed the latest incarnation. The musical follows the basic plot: With the aid of a fairy godmother, an orphaned waif (put-upon by her stepmother and stepsisters) catches the eye of a prince and lives happily ever after. 

Utilizing pop hits, Cannon has created a peripatetic world in Candy Land colors and clashing patterns. The opening number, a mashup of Janet Jackson’s “Rhythm Nation” and Desirée Weekes’ “You Gotta Be,” plays like Beauty and the Beast’s “Belle” on speed. It is explosive and joyfully aggressive, setting the tone, more The Greatest Showman and less Disney. (Both pieces share the athletic and often delightful work of choreographer Ashley Warren.) Other numbers include “Somebody to Love,” “Material Girl,” and “Perfect,” all fairly well integrated.

Where this Cinderella departs is in its feminist viewpoint. Cinderella’s greatest desire is to design dresses for her own shop. Forbidden to pursue her dream by her stepmother, she also faces the town’s prohibition on women owning businesses. Cinderella’s quest is not for a man; it is for independence and a sense of self. Much of this is presented on the nose and succeeds because of a charismatic star. 

Singer Camila Cabello holds center as a strong, funny, and intelligent Cinderella in her acting debut. She also composed the movie’s (oft-repeated) “Million to One,” a predictable if tuneful number. Nicholas Galitzine’s Prince Robert has almost as much screentime. In line to be king, Galitzine alternates between traditional Crown Prince and frat boy. He is “charming,” if a bit bland, due to his ambivalence to his eventual succession. Unfortunately, his passivity makes him less engaging and no match for Cabello’s feisty, forward-looking Cinderella.

The rest of the all-star cast mostly triumphs over uneven material. The marvelous Idina Menzel, who has the film’s strongest voice, struggles with finding Cinderella’s stepmother Vivian’s center. She ranges from comic villainy to severely cruel, with peaking glimpses of humanity. Instead of creating dimension, the character feels unfinished. Maddie Ballio and Charlotte Spencer are hilarious and a pure delight as stepsisters Malvolia and Narissa. They deserved more screen time and a number to themselves as they become sidelined. 

The royal family features Pierce Brosnan as a king who is more bluff than gruff, Minnie Driver as his better half, and Tallulah Greive as the mildly scheming princess who aspires to rule. There is so much going on and yet very little result. Like with the stepsisters, Greive warranted a bigger presence. All three performances are good if incomplete.

Billy Porter is the Fabulous Godmother, and Fabulous he is. Porter should appear in every new movie, if not by his choice, then by Act of Congress. He brings hilarity, sensitivity, and depth to his five minutes of screen time.

The ensemble is composed of wonderful dancers who land the handful of lines peppered throughout the larger scenes. Cannon has corralled the company nicely — though she failed to mine a very funny piece of business with a royal choir. 

Ultimately, the entire movie is entertaining if unfulfilled potential, with the scales tipping back and forth. Five-note range generic pop songs follow clever lines. Spectacular dance numbers spell stretches of declarative dialogue telling us the ideas of equality rather than showing them. Cannon struggles to find a consistent writing style. Some moments swipe at a period quality. Other scenes aim for a tough, clear reality (a particularly awkward exchange between the monarchs that borders on embarrassing). But mostly, the dialogue is contemporary “sass,” which is what serves its cast best. It aims for “poppin’” (as one character states) but often tries a bit too hard.

While this Cinderella will never achieve status as even a semi-classic, it reflects its time. And, with a message of self-actualization, the solid cast is up to the telling. Like its prince, this Cinderella might not be Mr. Right — but it’s Mr. Right Now.

Rated PG, Cinderella is playing in select theaters and on Amazon Prime.

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Jennifer Hudson pays homage to the Queen of Soul in 'Respect'. Photo from MGM

Reviewed by Jeffrey Sanzel

Aretha Louise Franklin began her career as a child singing in her father’s Baptist Church. She would go on to be one of the most important and influential vocalists of all time. Beloved as a musician as well as civil rights activist, “the Queen of Soul” would touch millions.

Tony-Award nominated Liesl Tommy makes her featured film debut with Respect, a biopic of Franklin’s early life and rise to fame. Beginning in her Detroit home in 1952 and traveling forward twenty years, Tracey Scott Wilson’s screenplay is a mostly straightforward look at one of the most iconic figures of the music industry. 

The film begins with ten-year-old Aretha (a marvelous Skye Dakota Turner) being woken by her father, Baptist minister C.L. Franklin (Forest Whitaker), to entertain his guests. The opening sequences show his pride in her vocal prowess and his manipulative nature, themes that will carry through their entire relationship. During one party, a friend of her father’s rapes the preadolescent Franklin. The film is a bit hazy about the rape and the birth of her first two children, sidestepping a murky part of Franklin’s past. (There have been multiple articles written about both the liberties and inaccuracies of Respect.)

Jennifer Hudson and Marlon Wayans in a scene from ‘Respect’. Photo courtesy of MGM

The story continues with her breaking from her father’s supervision and connecting with Ted White (Marlon Wayans), who becomes her manager and husband. Unfortunately, White is abusive, with Franklin trading one controlling man for another. Along the way, she signs with Atlantic Records producer Jerry Wexler (Marc Maron), who becomes an impetus in her career shift. 

One senses a list of items that the creators wanted to cover and checked them off as they went, manifesting in a mechanical progression. In addition, the dialogue often states the characters’ thoughts and feelings rather than revealing them in action. As a result, the subtext—the underlying humanity—is often lost as the plot moves forward. 

Tommy and Wilson have managed to make recording fascinating and engaging. The breakthrough recording in Muscle Shoals, Alabama, runs the gamut from tense to exhilarating. Throughout, the scenes focusing on Franklin’s art and craft shine. Recreation of interviews is cleverly juxtaposed with the “reality” of the moment. But more could have—and should have—been made of her civil rights work.

Jennifer Hudson and Forest Whitaker in a scene from Respect. Photo by Quantrell D. Colbert/MGM

Whitaker makes the most of Franklin’s father, but because Wilson has avoided many of the more unsavory aspects of C.L. Franklin (alluded to but unconfirmed), the character never feels fully realized. Marlon Wayans fairs a bit better, finding the edge and danger in White. 

Marc Maron is a joy as Wexler, both caring and quirky. Kimberly Scott shines as the family matriarch. Audra McDonald makes the best of what is little more than a cameo as Franklin’s mother. Tituss Burgess embodies kindness as James Cleveland, a man who arcs through her entire life. Mary J. Blige brings the right blend of imperious ego and genuine no-nonsense to Dinah Washington (though her major scene is an incident most likely connected to Etta James).

At the center of the film is Jennifer Hudson, delivering a knockout performance. Hudson first encountered Franklin when she sang “Share Your Love With Me” in her American Idol audition. Then, following Hudson’s Academy Award win for Dreamgirls, Hudson visited Franklin in New York. According to Hudson, “… one of the first things she said to me was, ‘You’re gonna win another Oscar for playing me, right?’”.

Hudson brings warmth and intelligence to her Franklin, navigating the entire range of innocence and hope to the constant struggle with her inner demons. She allows the pain to swell and recede, some moments turning in and others lashing out. Her growth to stardom and the price that she paid remain in precarious balance. Hudson owns every song, honoring Franklin but bringing her own power to the interpretations. She celebrates the entire range of Franklin’s work, from the church music to early jazz standards to finally those that became her signature songs. Whether taking on the traditional “Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Positive,” finding the depths in “I Never Loved a Man (The Way I Love You),” soaring with “Amazing Grace,” or exploding with “Respect,” Hudson delivers in the dozen-plus songs.

There is an odd misstep in the closing of the film. Franklin’s Kennedy Center Honors performance of “Natural Woman” is shown in its entirety, a spectacular reminder of Franklin’s unique, extraordinary presence. Hudson follows this singing “Here I Am (Singing My Way Home,” a new song composed for the film. This pleasant if unspectacular song highlights the exceptional Franklin songbook and comes across as a clumsy attempt for a Best Song Oscar nomination. It seems a step-down and superfluous.

Respect touches on many of the highs and lows of Aretha Franklin’s rise to fame. Franklin had a complicated life, and while Respect is sincere, Franklin deserved a more complex approach to telling her story. But, in the end, Jennifer Hudson’s star performance shines through.

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

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