CIVIL WAR
MAKE AMERICA FIGHT AGAIN
john sekerka
One divisive film.
A-hem. Kinda ballsy to throw up a classic big budget Hollywood blockbuster about an America gone rogue when that possibility has never been more, uh, possible. Is director-writer Alex Garland stoking a dangerous fire? Is he firing a cautionary flare in hopes of scaring the masses into coming to their collective senses? Is he just being a cheeky Brit pressing buttons from the sidelines? Who knows? Whatever the case, it is quite the spectacle, and does make for some thrilling entertainment.
Plenty has been discussed about the vagaries of this conflict, and that is the big lure of this epic. We have a split America, waging full out war against itself in some bizarre and confusing regional alliances. Confusing enough that the sides are hard to identify (damn you camo!), and hard to cheer for. It is all a bit confusing. Garland delivers his apolitical political mess through the eyes of journalists, who bravely (stupidly) run straight into the lines of fire, claiming impartiality.
If "Civil War" were to remain vague it would have worked. Worked as a tense, heart-racing thriller about a group of clicheed misfits (of course) bent on delivering stories from the battle lines. Starts out that way, as the set up is murky yet enticingly so. But Garland gets carried away, or maybe he was carried away by others, and instead of settling on an open-ended story (way more chilling), he takes sides and decides on a tidy conclusion which is as preposterous as it is eye-rolling predictable.
Too bad, because properly executed, this has the makings of great cinema. Kirsten Dunst is the war veteran shutterbug, all business and no emotion, until of course she suddenly gets stupid. Ouch. With no backstory nor character development, she is wasted in a sleepwalking role. A lead character we should care for deeply, yet one who looks bored for the duration and blurs all too easily into the background.
Thankfully there are supporting characters. Or character. Kudos to Jesse Plemons and his five minutes of chilling killin'. Yes, re-delivering his "Breaking Bad" turn, but still super creepy great. This is the scene of the year: tense, simmering, unnerving, tough to look at but impossible to look away. Especially for an IMAX experience. Technically astounding, "Civil War" sounds and looks great on a big curvy screen with thundering aural blasts. Probably not gonna be so awesome on a small screen.
The movie is cleverly bookended by the haunting and unsettling strains of Suicide ("Rocket USA", and "Dream Baby Dream"), but leaves the middle bit wanting. There is lots to digest and spar over, but the movie never decides whether it wants to be an apolitical look at journalists in the throws of a meaningless war (as if there are other kinds), or a detailed political stance on the fracture of Democracy as we know it. It does neither.
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RIDDLE OF FIRE
MMM, PIE
john sekerka
Make no mistake, this is not great movie-making, and with that caveat out of the way, we shall proceed.
With many elements to love - precocious kids on motorbikes wielding paint guns outsmarting buffoonering adults - this bizarre, amateur school play of a movie does spin a yarn of charm that is undeniable. Forget the Swiss cheese plot, just crawl through the holes and enjoy the potty-mouthed kids as they serve up some whoopass comeuppance on the elderly fools that dare stand in their quest to fulfill a blueberry pie recipe for their ailing mother - bed ridden, with what seems to be just a common cold and a strange craving for pie. Once they deliver, she will hand over the password for their television so's they can play their favourite video game. Uh, yeah. Again, the plot is the weak link here, and frankly it seems to be deliberately childish. Like kids came up with this tall tale!
Shot in washed out and grainy 16mm film, this nails the eighties, which may or may not be reason to celebrate. Certainly not for the masses, this does have enough offbeat appeal to enjoy cult status, especially if mind-altering substances are involved. Perhaps one of those giant sugary sodas.
Much like someone you knew growing up, there is a kid with a fast and hard to follow slurry speech pattern. Brilliant solution: subtitles. No need for recasting or dubbing. If only life were so easy. "Riddle of Fire" is one crackpot movie that somehow captures the free-wheeling unbridled innocence of brash youth on a summery day epic adventure, when life was indeed easy. Nice and easy. And super weird.
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THE TASTE OF THINGS
FOODIE PORN
john sekerka
Turn of the century (not this one) France with the rise of an adventurous chef experimenting with culinary combinations previously impossible, is the tasty setting here. Opening with a meticulous and lengthy food prep scene that feels good enough to sniff, "Taste of Things" is a loving ode to the craft of culinary magic largely destroyed by present day reality television. It is sweet, dedicated, artful and reverential.
It is also lacking proper exploration of the human characters involved. As the tale of a longtime chef and his equally adept cook, this is a love story of a partnership without any bite. Much of the human interaction is banal and staged, with a dearth of character development. Instead the players are presented much like the dishes: served on a plate, ready to consume, easily digestible, posed as a carefully lit oil painting. They exist solely in the moment. Emotions are rendered bland, even when love, life and death are involved. Too bad, because there is much to work with here.
The food prep, creation and devouring is the sumptuous lure for seeing this delicious (looking) film, which should come with an inevitable hunger warning. While the kitchen is the real star, the story is only half-baked. That is all.
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PERFECT DAYS
SWEET NUTHIN'
john sekerka
A lovely, meditative slice of life delivered in edible cinematic form, "Perfect Days" is a sweet visual poem from venerable film auteur Wim Wenders.
With no backstory, or front story for that matter, we follow the seemingly mundane yet rigorously calculated routine of Hirayama, a solitary, middle-aged gent moving about his tiny but perfectly functional apartment to greet the dawn, procure a vending machine can of coffee, popping in a wonderfully curated cassette in his stubby van, winding his way through a yawning Tokyo, to spend the day cleaning funky public restrooms. Funky as in design, not cleanliness.
His regular haunts - a used book store with a super chatty proprietor, an after work bar tended by a gifted vocalist easily cajoled into entertaining the regulars - are charming in their predictability, providing mind and sustenance comfort. For lunch break in the park, Hirayama takes time every day to bathe in the swaying trees above, leaves dancing in the wind, before taking his usual old school snap. The camera, the music tapes, the dog-eared books, it all references an analogue time gone by, a time often romanticized in film, yet here it just exists. Hirayama has a past, it is touched upon, introduced with subtle referential tones, briefly disrupting his solitary life, much like his young and unpredictable coworker disrupts his days. His past, however interesting and mysterious and perhaps even glamorous, is just that, the past.
Those hoping for a wild plot twist or crazy revelation will be left wanting, but those willing to take the squinting against the sun morning drive with our hero as Lou Reed croons "Perfect Day", will be in for a real treat. There is power in serenity and simplicity, a dig at the speeding out of control go-go digital modern world, and Wenders has truly captured it. Also trees, trees play a big role here.
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THE PROMISED LAND
LAND HOE
john sekerka
An old fashioned historic epic, with a cast of tens.
Yep, tens, maybe less. There are class clashes, racial clashes, religious clashes, gender clashes, family clashes, but they are chiefly one on ones. When ominous figures on horseback appear as dots on the endlessly flat horizon, they are but a few strong.
Probably historically correct as the battle of empty Danish lands, lands with but a few characters who have interest in the barren countryside. Enter Ludvig Kahlen, a self-made soldier of renown, hoping to be of fortune, with a far-fetched plan to turn the dusty heath into farmland. His folly of a quest is ridiculous enough to be dismissed by grander powers, yet Kahlen is surprisingly granted permission by the drunky King (eager to settle the space) to have a go.
Local nobleman De Schinkel has other plans, devious ones. Ruthless even. He is evil incarnate, and combats Kahlen at every turn. Conquest at all costs. And so it begins. Not only is the earth inhospitable, so are the neighbours. Sheesh.
"Bastarden" in Danish, a much better title, "The Promised Land" covers non-fiction past with a sprinkling of fictitious embellishment. But not too much. This plays true. People are dispatched. Weather battles crops. Alliances are forged. More people are dispatched. Romantic angles complicate things. That is when things really get going. A little bit of Clint Eastwood's man with no name westerns, a little bit of "There Will Be Blood" but with a farming angle, perhaps "There will Be Potatoes".
As the stoic, no nonsense soldier tackling hostile land for the King, Mads Mikkelsen and his weather-beaten face is perfect as the resolute hero. A granite slab of a man, forging silently ahead through a series of devastating setbacks, eventually revealing himself through the tumultuous toil.
This is a story of country, family and self, in proportional portions. A big film, sprinkled with lovely little moments providing just the right balance, one that could have easily sunk into sentimental waters but stays well afloat due to a buoyant performance from Mikkelsen.
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MEMORY
MIND GAMES
john sekerka
Hoo-boy, adulting is hard. There is very little light in this overcast tale of struggling grown-ups, resulting in a tough viewing experience.
Jessica Chastain, as an emotionally detached, recovering alcoholic single mother, and Peter Sarsgaard as a gentle giant simple man suffering from the onset of dementia, form an unlikely, damaged couple. Hated in fact. Sylvia believes Saul attacked her in high-school, and carries a lifetime of spite. Saul has no memory of the event, can offer no real defense, only a meek apology.
Mexican writer and director Michel Franco spins a messy web dealing with various memory issues with all parties involved. The film takes time to develop, often at an infuriating pace, offering very little to solve the puzzle, and presents it all in an uncomfortable, grey sheen. The dialogue rings true though, characters stumble over each others' words. Silences are achingly long as pregnant thoughts are sometimes aborted, or awkwardly presented. The stark realism that feels improvised on the spot, might be a great achievement, but it is not for everyone.
The leads are magnificent, stumbling through their vulnerabilities, and eventual hard truth reveals. Kudos. Those dedicated enough to go along for the ride will be rewarded with what amounts to closure, and more importantly, something to ponder in the days to come.
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THE TEACHERS' LOUNGE
LIFE LESSONS
john sekerka
A Polish teacher in a German school? Sounds like a "don't mention the war" vehicle, yet that set up turns out to be a set up. This is all about a young, optimistic teacher dealing with precocious kids, a stuffy education system, and the cultural sensitivity minefield in today's diverse Europe.
The school is their world. Everything happens here. There are no insights into lives outside of the institution, yet it feels perfectly natural and organic. Shot in old school (yes) 4:3 aspect ratio, which boxes the visual experience into tight spaces, yet the flow and life of this film avoids any claustrophobic squirminess. That evolves from verbal confrontations, most come from recent changing of the norms. Not too long ago, the schools were authority, respected and often feared, never questioned. All that has morphed. Much like current societal changes, where, for good and bad, the powers in charge no longer wield unmitigated power, and the delicate process of inclusive problem solving takes precedence over results. A learning, evolving experience for all involved.
Chief problem: theft. Seems minor enough, but a series of minor swipes on campus have the faculty obsessing to no end. A frustration which leads to a misguided sting, which in turn topples a domino series of unfortunate events. Who is right? Who is wrong? Does it matter when the process is flawed? "The Teachers' Lounge" plays out like a tense courtroom drama, where accusers mingle with suspects in an awkward daily dance.
A squirmer and one for long debates (check that great ending), filled with terrific acting turns, this hits all the marks, and slots nicely between two current films it shares a similar clever aesthetic: "Monster" and "Anatomy of a Fall".
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EILEEN
COME ON EILEEN
john sekerka
There's a great movie in here, but it suddenly disappears in the last act.
For the first time in her varied career Anne Hathaway nails the acting thing. She totally transforms herself into a mysterious vixen, channeling an angular version of Marilyn Monroe as she disrupts a small, bleak New England town in the repressed sixties. All glam, cigarettes and high heels, Rebecca is the new psychologist at the local juvie detention centre, where she befriends fellow worker, the mousy Eileen.
The film moves smartly and methodically forward as the ladies form an unlikely bond, teasing Eileen with disruption of her mundane, servile, lonely existance, and threatens to veer into dangerous territory. Soon enough there's inappropriate dancing at a local watering hole that shocks the locals, and who knows where all of this is heading?
Indeed. The film veers sharply away from breaking old timey taboos and goes completely off the rails. Rebecca and Eileen are not what they seem, hell, they don't know what they are, and that is part of the thrill and repulsion of this crazy ending.
Not for everyone, but certainly unforgettable, stylish and worth it for the two leads.
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MONSTER
KIDDING AROUND
john sekerka
Those expecting a monster movie from a Japanese production will be sorely disappointed. Or maybe not. "Monster" might be a giant red herring of a title, but it makes perfect sense once the dust settles.
A quaint story of a protective single mother and her withdrawn elementary school age son, this film opens with some seemingly straightforward campus altercations, handled with embarrassingly apologetic inaction on the part of the faculty. As the plot moves forward it grows in mystery, what was crystal clear suddenly turns very cloudy. A clever ploy, reeling in the audience before pulling the rug, yet the real twist here is a gradual reveal of all the characters involved. Nothing is as simple as it seems, yet simple is the goal of all involved. The "there's two sides to every story" theory expands to three, maybe four.
Goading the viewer into questioning events works well, retracing steps from different points of view generates unforeseen power to previous events. Whose truth is the real truth? Communication fumbles, sketches of memories, well-meaning white lies, trust, and relationship clashes (gender, cultural, generational) are at the heart of the film. Who is the monster (if one even exists), and what exactly does that mean, are slinky questions examined throughout.
At the core of the mystery is a refreshing relationship between two very young boys, living in their own fantasy-laden world, keeping the adults, and adulthood at bay. That and the careful attention to detail really does make this feel like a non-animated Studio Ghibli project. A fitting goodbye to Ryuichi Sakamoto who provided his last works to the gorgeous soundtrack, "Monster" climaxes in a carefully orchestrated, stormy finale that, like the opening scene, appears straightforward, but is open to various interpretations. One to ponder.
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WHO'S YER FATHER?
PEI PI
john sekerka
Split decision: the islanders will love it, the mainlanders, well . . .
No denying the heart behind this very local project. "Who's Yer Father?" is full of cheeky performances, brain-haired whodunit plot twists, Maritime lingo, self-depreciating jabs, and plenty of seafood. As a series of silly, slapstick skits it is clever comedy, as a full-fledged film, it lacks a singular vision, though there is great joy in playing spot the landmarks.
Susan Kent and Chris Locke are right charming as a sleuthing couple mixed up in a lobster caper in Canada's smallest province. Everyone knows everyone, and everyone is an odd character. Fact? Fiction? The lines are blurry. Whatever the case, this movie is fun, and loaded with hilarious nuggets which unfortunately, never quite come together as a cinematic whole. Still as a proud Canadian, it is hard to not salute the effort, even dumb comedy has its place, and this is no doubt an absolute laugh riot in a rowdy theatre.
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DELINQUENTS
DUPLICITY
john sekerka
Warning: three hour movie incoming!
No worries, split this sprawl in two, and away we go. First half is a bank caper, the second an existential quest for idyllic existence. Nice.
Moran is a frumpy, bald bank teller, stuck in a nine to five glum who decides to shake up his life with an inside heist. His anagram Roman is an lanky bank teller who becomes an odd accomplice. Their anagram Norma is an effervescent hippie and the object of their desires. Their anagram is Namor and that has nothing to do with this film.
Moran is a man of simple means, who calculates exactly how much he needs to swipe to match his cumulative pay upon retirement, allowing escape from the rat race. Seems fair. His other calculation is three and a half years, which is the time spent in jail upon surrender with good behavior. Again, what could go wrong? Roman is reluctantly roped into the audacious plan, which surprisingly seems plausible, save a couple of hiccups.
Part two: the major hiccup: Norma. A dark-haired, free spirit prancing about the countryside with her film-maker friends, collecting eggs, riding horses, splashing in a swimming hole. Sweet. Moran and Roman fall for her in separate story lines, and it looks like we are headed for an anagram triangle confrontation. Also the bank starts to close in, and the tension begins, but when the movie should start to ramp up, it instead meanders and lingers on mundane passages instead. Sigh.
Lots of filmy things going on here, starting with the beautiful expanse of the Argentine countryside, and the savouring of life's simple pleasures. An actor plays two characters and it somehow makes sense. Split screen shots feature Roman and Moran pondering their individual fate over cigarettes in different time lines.
For a heist and love triangle film, there's a dearth of action, and not much return on your buck. This is a very small film with a very lengthy running time. Three hours may be a tall ask, but there is something weirdly captivating to savour, not just the characters, but the whole experience. "Delinquents" is quite captivating in an offbeat way.
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ANATOMY OF A FALL
CLUELESS
john sekerka
There's a lot missing here, and that is the key. Starting with a fresh cadaver, "Anatomy of a Fall" rides a series of tough questions till the very end. Accident, murder, suicide? Seemingly simple, straightforward options that dissolve in a murky family soup, played out in a thrillingly wordy courtroom drama.
Sandra is a German writer, living in an idyllic, remote French Alp cabin with her husband and son. She is introduced sharing wine over a friendly interview. The son is introduced taking their dog for a walk in the wintery surroundings. The husband is introduced in a prone position, pool of blood soaking snow. And we are off. The fatal and shocking plummet swiftly evolves into a complex investigation, of the death itself, but of equal importance, of relationships.
Sandra Huller is the perfect lead here, jovial, friendly, yet clinically steely and stately, she is the tough nut to crack defendant caught in a seemingly horrific nightmare. A nightmare that opens relationship wounds in a court of law, relying on sequential event memories with lives on the line. Not only are old wounds reopened, but public opinion is in play, and most importantly, so is a prone, confused child. Marriage and family is messy enough, let alone post-mortem.
The spoiler here is that there is no spoiler. The shoe never really drops. All facts are presented from all sides as they see fit. It is for the audience to judge and jury Sandra, and this film, which is an infuriating stroke of clever.
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THE ROYAL HOTEL
BACKOUT
john sekerka
A declined card derails a down under party vacation, but instead of hightailing their sorry asses back home, our spunky leading ladies choose sketchy employment in the Australian outback to right their sinking ship. A miners' pub in the middle of a barren nowhere is their only option, and provides quite the unsettling setting. Hilarity does not ensue.
So begins the very dark and very tense "The Royal Hotel". Juliana Garner as Hannah and Jessica Henwick as Liv are in for it, and whatever "it" is, it will not be good. Filmed almost entirely in shadowy, smoky, claustrophobic confines, the film uses the surrounding sun-bleached, baked sand expanses as a harsh reminder of a desolate predicament. Soon the hooch is flowing, the manly men are carousing, and the overwhelmed women are scrambling. Prisoners of their folly of a solution, Hannah and Liv not only have to deal with the unpredictable locals, but with each other as well. Their dynamic is all too familiar: Hannah, cautious but game letting her extravert buddy lead them deeper and deeper into troubled waters.
Writer-director Kitty Green cleverly sculpts suspense through the wide-eyed point of view of the wary travellers. There are no clues as to what the mysterious, working-class miners are all about, except that they like to gather at night for drink, and to cause mayhem in a jovial manner that borders on chest-beating explosive. They, collectively, are the perfect mystery monster.
Feels like a horror film, but plays quite real, "The Royal Hotel" is not for everyone, proving a visually flashy tale of gender and class clashes played out in a desert locale where time stopped long ago.
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PASSAGES
ANCIEN VAGUE
john sekerka
More promise than execution, "Passages" tackles twentysomethings navigating gender fluid sexuality with Paris as the backdrop. Welcome to the Tomas, Martin and Agathe dance. Narcissist and disagreeable German film director, Tomas is the unfortunate rotten core here. He disrupts his marriage by a purely sexual tryst with fetching schoolteacher Agathe, and oddly, can't wait to gush about his walk on the straight side to Martin. Things don't go well.
An interesting premise for sure, but one that plays out rather sloppily, without any character development to speak of, unless Tomas' deplorable indifference counts. An ugly persona, with an appearance to match - a patchy beard, gaunt features, a snaky lisp and a horrific wardrobe (which ironically, is getting kudos from GQ) - it's a bit of a puzzle as to his allure. Surprisingly, he's quite dull to boot, which makes for a bizarre protagonist: a difficult one to hate, or care for.
"Passages" takes stabs at the French New Wave, dishing up randy youth moving aimlessly through Paris to a jazzy backdrop, but with the exception of a lovely, film-closing evening bike ride, misses the mark. Without style, the absence of substance dominates this lackluster experience.
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NORTH OF NORMAL
OUT OF THE WILD
john sekerka
True story this.
From off the grid hippie wild child to runway model, Cea Person has lived a life. Many lives in fact. "North of Normal" tells tale number one: Cea's early years in the wilderness with her teenage mom, and commune honcho grandpa (aptly named Papa Dick). It's a fascinating tale, which focuses more on the family dynamic than the circumstance of their off-beat existence, all from Cea 's point of view. Also, it's a pretty damn good-looking film. Director Carly Stone, in only her second feature, is one to watch for.
River Price-Maenpaa as the sprite eight year old Cea, and Amanda Fix as the mature but barely teen version are quite good, bridging the gap between precocious forest beast to blossoming woman, discovering her true self with the help and hinderance of a disappearing mother, an oddball grandfather, and a revolving door of sketchy boyfriends. "North of Normal" delivers a nice, bouncy balance of idealistic innocence and reality slaps of a nomadic yet intimate lifestyle, without preaching in any one direction, whilst capturing a full senses vibe of the seventies (carefree soundtrack, muted colour schemes, authority rebellion, VW buses).
Sure the push and pull of a flighty mother and a longing daughter caught in unstructured circumstances is engrossing, but every back to nature adventure begs a good backstory. The reason and execution for anti-establishment living is too juicy to not explore, or one would think. Nevertheless, there's enough here for a solid recommendation, and perhaps a prequel down the road will complete the circle.
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DALILAND
BRUSH WITH GREATNESS
john sekerka
Iconic canvas "The Persistence of Memory" (melty clocks) is key to a flashback of lifelong lovers Dali and Gala bond over his genius, yet it is shown in disappointing silhouette, sucking the life right out of the scene. Any film featuring a grand master should be swimming with his art, for without it he is just a man, and in this case, a bit of a buffoon. The lack of visual masterpieces in this late life biopic is truly embarrassing.
As an emperor without art (clothes), Dali prances around his over the top parties, directing young pretty things for his voyeuristic pleasures. Mod pop fills the soundtrack whilst seventies overindulgence flows freely. Fun! Fun for a minute at best, yet with no proper follow through. "Daliland" offers no clue as to the genius here, or even a hint of what makes the cartoony Dali tick. A film about Dali, one of the greatest artists of all time, without exploring Dali. Weird.
Mary Harron has directed better ("I Shot Andy Warhol") but not for quite a spell. No comeback here am afraid. Exploring Dali's latter career spiral through the eyes of a young gallery assistant is ripe for adventure: the eye candy, the groovy characters, the debauchery, the cocaine, and yet it is quite lifeless. Boring actually. Worse, Ben Kingsley and Barbara Sukowa as the bickersons are dreadfully one dimensional, taking turns in an overacting contest. They both win, and the movie loses. What a frustrating stumble.
A film rife with juicy ingredients ready to burst from the screen in a rainbow of colourful magic, is instead a quick remedy for insomnia troubles. Hiss.
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BLACKBERRY
CRACKBERRY
john sekerka
For those who remember tippy typing on their obsolete devices in utter denial, this film contains a built-in spoiler. A spoiler that does not spoil the show. A feat, this is.
The rise and (insert Final Jeopardy music) of BlackBerry is a geek fest riot. One that delivers so much more. Developed by a cackle of soldering nerds - whose solution to work glitches is emergency movie night - the world's first and best smart phone is a revolutionary product which they have no idea how to sell. Enter Jim Balsillie, a clever, ruthless, maniacal product pusher who quickly jettisons this rag tag bunch of kids to the world stage. And in a fantastic running subplot, he is a huge, huge hockey fan.
Jay Baruchel as head techie Mike Lazaridis is a wonderful combination of skittish, mousy, determined, innocent, and charmingly funny, even when saddled with a preposterous Man From Glad wig. Glenn Howerton as his demonic, temperamental, yet successful pitch man, torches the screen with every scene. In a good way. This is good torching. He owns this movie. He shaved his wondrous hair for the role. A trooper. Half his gift is whipping immature nerds to dominate the big bad grown-up tech sector. The cutthroat nature of the exploding business makes for thrilling drama, with the intrigue and pacing of a nail-biting spy caper. The ominously creepy shadow of Steve Jobs lurks in the background, ready to wreak havoc on the BlackBerry. Very Darth Vaderish. This may not end well.
Some primo Canuck eggs - from Don Cherry to Waterloo to Copps Coliseum - are slyly slipped in without sabotaging the film, because they are absolutely essential to the story. (Play the damn anthem right here). You’ll be root-root-rooting for the home team!
An absolute joy to watch, "BlackBerry" is a boffo reveal of recent history that has gone lost in the shuffle, until now. Hilarity ensues.
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ONE FINE MORNING
A SLICE
john sekerka
Bond girl Lea Seydoux in a Jean Seberg pixie cut is drawn into an affair on the streets of romantic Paris! Calm toi, for there is little steam, thrills or chills here, just a sweet and sour little slice of French life. A single mother juggling emotions deals with a trio of tugging demands: an aging father whose memory is quickly slipping, and old friend who tempts with an extra marital fling, and an eight year old daughter who misses her father.
Systematic and slow, "One Fine Morning" is typical French cinema, choosing to linger on awkward moments, stark openness, and tough conversations. There's also plenty of mundane, muted everyday scenes that are all but verboten in the Hollywood hills. No quick edits or swirling soundtrack to get in the way, this is an even keel film that presents conflict without bombast.
Seydoux is perfect in a fine balancing act, showing strength, weakness and guilt, as one would imagine. Even better is Pascal Greggory as the deteriorating father, who matches his mental slide with a physical one, all the while eliciting equal doses of empathy and frustration from his family.
There are no grand reveals, revelations, or resolutions to be had in what is a very personal viewing experience, but there sure is plenty to think on, and for many, to relate to.
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THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN
SUFFERING FOOLS
john sekerka
The Irish really are an island unto themselves, and that may be the point of this movie. Loved and despised in equal doses, "The Banshees of Inisherin" nevertheless is rewarding cinema. Set solely on the gloriously green rolling knolls of a cute island (sit down tourists, no such place) where the rain only sprinkles at night, the muffled sounds of revolutionary shots fired are at a safe distance on the mainland, and the locals gather daily at the lone pub. All seems idyllic in the charming farming community, until a long-standing friendship is suddenly disrupted. Forget small town, this is a small island, where everyone not only knows everyone, but appear to have no will to escape.
The break-up, abrupt, congenial, silent, eats away at a confused Padraic (Colin Farrell and his expressive eyebrows). A simple man, his confusion and childlike determination to mend matters with the stoic and complicated Colm (Brendan Gleeson) is rife with comedic tension, until, well, until things get way out of hand.
The battle of wills takes on an unsavoury, physical bent that becomes the knife twist in the film. One which tests an audiences' mettle. An allegory for the warring factions on the horizon, the odd couples' relationship runs the gamut of absurd to horrific. A tragic comedy that delivers more victims than victors.
Farrell and Gleeson are superb, bringing plenty of grand ideas to the table - the regiment of life, the role of friendship, reinventing oneself, the cuffs of relationships, unrequited love, vengeance, and mortality. Plus a bunch more. Sunny yet dark. Do a favour with a viewing.
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LIVING
UPON LEAVING
john sekerka
Britifying Akira Kurasawa's "Ikiru (To Live)" makes perfect sense, and intriguing cultural comparisons of just post war nations. Japan and England appear polar opposites on paper, but have much in common with longstanding traditions of conformity, subservience, apologism and impeccable manners.
When a head clerk deft at lifelong paper shuffling and buck-passing bureaucracy is handed a terminal medical sentence, he attempts to transform what is left of his clock-punching days. Bill Nighy (the y is silent, cuz, uh, Brits?), is perfectly cast as the stodgy, whispery gent who begins his transformation by ditching his bowler (or billycock to some) for a fedora! More excitement follows. Actually, not much, but that is the idea here. Life changes can be subtle, and our walking zombie finds meaning in small pleasures - a decadent lunch, a workday movie matinee - and culminates in spearheading a neighbourhood project.
There are no grand gestures, nor earth-shaking reveals, just the tweaking of the human condition to make a difference.
This is a gentle film, shot in wonderfully retro colours and meticulously designed sets, capturing the time and aura perfectly. Nighy, swell as always, seems particularly sculpted for this role.
A good one.
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BROKER
BABY STEPS
john sekerka
Black market baby sellers, a prostitute mother and her pricey offspring, driving around in search for a big payday, with a couple of quirky yet determined cops in dogged pursuit! Bonanza time, but best turn down that excito-meter, as this rip-roaring premise for adventure gives way to a carefully paced, oddball family affair of misfits in a van that eschews action for character study.
"Parasite" star Song Kang-ho carries the cast as a genial, reluctant thief with a heart of gold. It is mushy stuff, but quite digestible. Circumstance determines fate, and back stories revealed in careful drips, open the players to gradual acceptance. Let the baby-traffic rooting begin! Weird.
Weirder still is the languid pace and warm vibe the film embraces, filtering the rough story line into a feel good road adventure brimming with joy, squabbles and a dash of oddball comedy.
What is right? What is wrong? What makes people do what they do? No answers here, but a pretty good look at human interaction when dealing with whatever life is throwing at us, and trying to move forward, no matter what that road looks like.
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HUNT
KOREA MAZE
john sekerka
There's a point in every unfolding spy thriller where either all the seemingly disparate clues come together and the confounding series of mysteries gel into some sort of cohesive climax, or not.
"Hunt" spends a lot of effort, multi-layered political intrigue, slick choreographed action scenes, and personal character development, in a great looking slice of Korean history, which unfortunately proves way too convoluted to follow. Granted, historic scholars will have an easier time of this, but it turns out that back in the eighties the North South conflict was complicated with enough internal factions that deciphering the good guys from the bad is near impossible.
Squid Game leading man Lee Jung-Jae turns in a stellar performance as a many layered intelligent agent who is dealing with assassination attempts, possible coups, a standoffish daughter, and a competing intelligent agent who may or may not be evil incarnate. He also directs, so hands quite full.
The spy twists are many and complex, and soon become one big knot. Hard to cheer for anyone when no one is wearing white cowboy hats. A score card of who's who, and what factions are involved would be most helpful.
Best to just stop thinking and go along for the action ride, which admittedly, is really quite good.
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DECISION TO LEAVE
FATAL DISTRACTION
john sekerka
The real decision to leave comes at the halfway mark of this two hour and eighteen minute opus. See, there's really two movies here, and though they are joined by characters and plot, work quite well as separate parts. Also: it is two hours and eighteen minutes long!
The first act is a straight ahead mystery whodunnit, with a sharp insomniac Sherlock cop fighting loin urges with his chief suspect. Cracker Jack old story, unfolded stylishly, shot beautifully, adventurously edited, and uh, disappointingly bland. The hunter and hunted waste no time in exchanging deep, doughy-eyed stares in their cat and mouse lovers' game, which is a tad odd for a seemingly devout married man, and someone who should be grieving her recently breathing hubby. Silly instant crush aside, the plot is set for some Hitchcockian twisting and shouting. It comes, but not for a long spell, and when the reveal is revealed, it is muddy and perplexing. Not that movie confusion is a terrible thing, as it implores repeated viewings, which showcase a bounty of striking details often missed (well worth it here), but it takes two hours and eighteen minutes to get there!
The second act plays like a wacky reboot of the first act: same characters, another dodgy death, more lovey dovey eyes. This one has more bite though, and starts to bring everything together, muddy as it may be.
Perhaps less attention should be paid to the plot and various distractions that lead nowhere, and more to the sumptuous cinema making excellence. The advantage and foible of modern technology as communication means, depicted through innovative angles and personal gadget sorcery, is key to telling the story in a disarming and disorienting manner: via text and apps. There is never any certainty as to the voracity of what is happening on screen, and yet it is hard not to be invested in the characters and their foolishness. Sometimes cloudy is what works best.
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TRIANGLE OF SADNESS
ELITE COMPANY OF WOLVES
john sekerka
Like a bursting suitcase in a luxury liner suite, there's a lot to unpack here.
The worry patch of skin channeling the eyebrows, and Ruben Ostlund's latest film, "Triangle of Sadness" is a divisive thing. One can be altered by a shot of botox, the other is beyond any surgical intervention. Not that it needs it. Either one for that matter, but sticking to the movie, despite a series of lengthy yet wandering episodes that excel in their own vignette space, the project as a whole is a bit of a slog. Not for all, slogs can still be worth the trek, and this one is.
Director Ostlund has created beguiling cinema before ("Force Majeure", "The Square"), and it is good to see he has not abandoned his inner weird. This looks great, feels great, has a throbbing pulse. Even when tipsy characters are arguing communism and capitalism over a cruise ship's open mic, at excruciating length, there is vibrancy, tension, and slick humour.
Woody Harrelson, as the drunky, philosophizing, captain is perfect as the everyman foil subtlety yet subserviently skewering the elite sensibilities of his patrons. He is but a bit player in a strong ensemble that take turns carrying the weight. The lone constants who permeate the choppy plot line are despicable yet gorgeously delicious hottie couple Carl and Yaya. He of the boyish face and chiselled runway model bod, she of the slick oiled, tanned figure and pouty face of an Instagram influencer. They are fabulous, they are funny, they are incredibly petty, and they are selfishly ruthless. The perfect targets in an eat the rich fable. Some cannibalism may apply.
Class clash may be nothing new, but it is seldom boring. Reminiscent of Lina Wertmuller's "Swept Away" in turning tables, it also blurs the lines of right and wrong depending on the circumstances. Let's face it, people are awful, but it sure makes for great cinema.
What fun!
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DEAD FOR A DOLLAR
HANG 'EM LOW
john sekerka
Everything about this movie is just a little off. The Pacing, the acting, the soundtrack, the plot. Not enough to make it a stinker, but enough to make it forgettable. Regrettable really. Cue sad trombone sound.
Wasting the talents of Willem Dafoe and Christoph Waltz, Walter Hill churns out a paint by muted colours western that lacks spark, mood, and tension. Interesting story lines peter out, characters remain undeveloped and bland, balls are dropped. This thing has no hook, no energy, hell it barely has a pulse.
Filmed in an overtly bright, clean sepia tone, "Dead For a Dollar" isn't dusty enough for a true old timey western, which it is clearly trying to channel. This is more stagnant soap opera fare rather than a Sergio Leone spaghetti feast. Too bad. Benjamin Bratt could have saved this flick, but after a promising introduction, his deliciously snaky Mexican villain is all but forgotten until the requisite final shootout. Waltz and Dafoe have nothing to work with here, and they plod along like lame horses. The dialogue is listless, the action limp. Never mind a gallop, or a cantor, this one is for the glue factory. Oh what Tarantino could have done with this project.
Is Walter over the Hill? Perhaps.
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THE GOOD BOSS
TIPPING THE SCALES
john sekerka
Javier Bardem takes his time. He's all sweet talk, big hugs and grand gestures; the beloved company boss, a greying father figure to his devout worker family, dispensing sage advice to increase productivity, and poetic goodbyes to those who sadly, he must let go. It is a grand performance, equal in measures of velvety charm and cut-throat viciousness.
Running a scale company - someone has to make 'em – seems innocuous enough, but every business has its dark cloud lurking in a silver lining. In order to capture yet another business award for his busy trophy wall, Julio Blanco puts the squeeze on his obedient minions, gently releases workers because the numbers deem it, and swoops in on young female interns all too eager for some life lessons. Charmingly so.
A juicy role which gives Bardem plenty of flexibility to expertly morph his character to suit the situation, the boss is his. Unfortunately the film cannot quite keep up. What should be a burning thriller, climaxing in resolution of several riveting plot lines, augmented with biting comedic touches, fizzles. Falls flat it does.
Social satire deserves more bite. This appetizer needs a better main course. Still, Bardem is excellent, and as usual, well worth the see.
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GIRL PICTURE
SMOOTHIE FINISH
john sekerka
A rather frank Finish feature of girls deciphering hormonal urges as they mature into adulthood. The matter of fact sex talk is blunt, refreshing, insightful and often funny, as director Alli Haapasalo avoids the sensationalistic and exploitative Hollywood pratfalls of bedroom romps. These are kids, experimenting, exploring, learning, fumbling, growing and most importantly, discussing. A talkie, not a humpy.
Mimmi and Ronkko swap sex tales whilst serving up ridiculously named smoothies ("It Takes Two To Mango") at the local food court, when clique preppie figure skater Emma disrupts their world. The punky, cynical and rebellious Mimmi (Aamu Milonoff) argues with, then falls for the forbidden fruit, and we have story. A story that feels natural, flows true, views like a diary.
Milonoff is sensational in the lead, owning the screen at every emotional turn: burning embarrassment at her mother's neglect, seducing her target on the dance floor, and lashing out physical for attention. Though this is a three girl story across three Friday nights, and Haapasalo splits the plot pie in equal portions, Milonoff as Mimmi steals the show. "Girl Picture" is her movie.
Watch out!
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FIRE OF LOVE
LAVA LUST
john sekerka
Katia, Maurice and the volcano: a fiery menage a trois that will not end well, unless of course, it really is better to burn out than to fade away. For a movie that begins with a startling spoiler (our French lovers succumb to their lust for lava), "Fire of Love" spends the entirety of this documentary giddily championing our infectiously doomed couple as they crisscross the globe in search of volcanic activity.
Not flighty danger seekers, the Kraffts were dedicated volcanologists and filmmakers who faced danger with acceptance but also a joie de vivre. Among spectacular in situ footage we are also treated to Maurice peppering the talk show circuit, eagerly detailing their latest escapades with boyish exuberance, some humour, and scientific wonder.
This is a man who professed his greatest wish in absolute seriousness as riding a canoe down a river of lava. Instead of shooting down this frivolous dream, Katia notes that it would have to be made of rocketship grade metal. All that is missing is a steady rain of heart emojis throughout the screening. It makes one want to dispatch for the nearest eruption. Almost.
This is where film comes in: we can enjoy an exciting, dangerous dance with death, learn a few things, and cherish the power of unbridled love. A raison d'etre shared, is what makes the world go round, or explode.
A bientot.
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PHANTOM OF THE OPEN
FOUR SCORE
john sekerka
Those crazy Brits, always reaching for the moon. Before every man Eddie the Eagle and his ski jumping adventures, there was Maurice Flitcroft, a shipyard crane operator who decided middle aged to take up golf. Entered the British Open Championship he did. Win he did not, but oh what a story. Actually, several stories.
Captured with wide-eyed innocence, eternal optimism, and infectious charm by the great Mark Rylance, Flitcroft is the working class hero who dares to live his dreams. Perfect cinema fodder, and thankfully "The Phantom of the Open" delivers the stranger than fiction goods: a real life super hero so easy to cheer for and reeling in any imaginations in need of capture.
The crazy, over the top escapades make for comedy gold, which are balanced wisely by a traditional family affair, well, if your family includes a pair of disco dancing twins. Though a bit generous with the corn, and bordering on slapstick, the film is undeniably adorable, full of superb performances (Sally Hawkins is always swell), and well worth your 100 precious minutes. Bring the family.
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MEMORY
MEMORY LOSS
john sekerka
Few know that walking tree Liam Neeson is a stealthy comedic talent, but sadly he continues to make old guy action movies instead of following his true destiny.
Hard to argue with success, and Neeson's bank account presents a formidable case. The cold, hard, ruthless killing machine with few words and even fewer emotions, has long been box office gold, but like Sir Liam, it is a tad long in the tooth. And yet hope kindles, for there exists a twist in an otherwise ordinary story in that of encroaching dementia of our systematic killer. A twist of great promise and opportunity that is inexplicably mishandled. Botched really. Apart from a couple of inane and inconsequential episodes (a misplaced item here, a foggy notion there) the onset of Alzheimers is treated more as a minor nuisance rather than plot device. It certainly does not slow the body count.
Still, if the action was up to snuff, or maybe the plot not riddled with bullet holes, this may have had some legs. Instead we are treated to a painfully wooden appearance by Monica Bellucci, while a game performance from Guy Pearce is buried under the dreck. The required (mercifully brief) romantic interlude is one for the ages, or for the aged as it were. Chemistry is a failed subject for everyone involved.
Silver linings do exist, well, perhaps just the one, as immediately after viewing, there will be absolutely no memory of "Memory".
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AFTER YANG
DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF EMOTION?
john sekerka
Anyone digging Colin Farrell's recent whispery turns in Yorgos Lanthimos' "The Lobster" and "The Killing of a Sacred Deer", will surely slip into comfort, discomfort viewing mode. All subtlety and nuance, his performances are delicately powerful, cerebral and moving, accomplishing much whilst seemingly offering little. Like the former films, the latter has a futuristic (yet not dystopian) premise providing an edge without succumbing to bombast.
"After Yang" is a multi-hued, multi-coloured, multi-facetted family affair: inter racial couple Jake (Farrell) and Kyra (Jodie Turner-Smith), adopted Asian daughter Mike (Malea Emma Tjandrawidjaja), and her techno sapien brother Yang (Justin H. Min). All is well until a hard drive malfunction renders the beloved Yang inoperable. Anyone dealing with a downed device will sympathize with Jake in his frustrating journey of warranty loopholes, unhelpful salesmen, and pushy grease monkeys, and of course, his anxious family.
Little by little Jake uncovers Yang's history (via memory banks), which unfolds to not only introduce revelatory parallel storylines, but serves to question some big life questions concerning family, race, humanity, love, relationships, rebirth, purpose, and how artificial intelligence enters our already complicated world.
The Sci-Fi aspect is really secondary. Mainly backgroundy. Set in what could be a near distant future, this film is chiefly about the human condition, the meaning of life, and our perception of what all that entails. It is presented in subtle, earthy tones, even the autonomous cars focus on the passengers and the green tree reflections, rather than flashy engineering. This is not a future of cold metal, but rather warm organics. Quite palatable to digest.
Sneaky smart, "After Yang" delivers on many levels, many not so conveniently obvious. Quite a beautiful spectacle to get lost in, it is a revealing cerebral journey built on memory snaps, augmented nicely with some great performances. Perhaps that dreaded family album is worth revisiting after all.
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COMPARTMENT NO.6
COLD WAR
john sekerka
If ever there was a movie for this time in history. This is it.
"Compartment No.6" is the creaky train battle ground for a bright Fin and a bellicose Russian, brought together in uncomfortable circumstance. She solo tripping (after a partner bail) to check out ancient petroglyphs. He solo tripping for slavish mine work. Destination Murmansk, as frigid and unforgiving as a quick map query would suggest.
The student and the brute. Things don't start well. Booze fuelled and smoke ashes flying, Lhoja inflicts his boisterous party hardy manchild personality on a retreating and recoiling Laura. Cornered, she flees the dungeon compartment to find no sleeping alternatives. A rail ride from hell, perhaps to hell. Hell is involved it would seem.
Flip Finland for Ukraine (not much of a stretch in current and past circumstances) and we have a political allegory of current events - a bizarre coincidence. Yet this is more a personal clash where language, ideals, class, and gender are in play. Borders be damned.
Out of options, Laura reluctantly returns to her intended journey, keeping the clumsy Russian at arm's length, which proves difficult in their claustrophobic pad. Of course there is more to the simple boor that only time and patience could reveal, the train being the ideal vehicle for a relationship to develop. Where and how this cold war interaction of lost souls goes is the glorious guts of this stark, cramped film.
Yuriy Borisov and Seidi Haarla are pitch perfect as the strangers on a train, with little in common, much to despise, and yet an odd dependence that slips out every now and then. The human condition is a funny one, sometimes ha-ha, sometimes strange, and sometimes, if only briefly, confoundingly wonderful. This movie has all the feels, without ever slipping into sloppy cliche.
Nazdorovie!
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PARALLEL MOTHERS
MOTHER AND CHILD
john sekerka
Typical Pedro Almodovar, expertly prodding his beloved Spain, this time with two forks: literally digging up Franco's fascist history, and then focusing on the complicated role of single, first time mothers. Long standing muse Penelope Cruz handles both utensils, as the orchestrator of village women who long their victimized men exhumed from a mass grave for proper burial, and as an unexpected expecting mother.
It is a fascinating dual trip, with just enough overlap before a coalescing finale. As the strong centre piece, Cruz is awesome as usual. Professional photographer turning a chance fling (how European) into a sudden family affair at an advancing age seems ripe for whoopsie adventure. Round and hospital bound, she befriends another solo expector, much younger but equally determined. The game of chances continues as the ladies give birth on the same day, solidifying their bond, a bond rekindled by yet another chance encounter down the line.
This may sound soap opera-y, and it is, but Almodovar shakes his film awake with a stunning mid-plot turn. A higher gear at the perfect time. The strength of the main character assaulted by circumstance, cracks a well established facade, and presents the mother of all dilemmas. Viewer patience pays off as "Parallel Mothers finally gathers proper steam.
A movie that digs up the past, stokes the present, and looks to the future in equal, messy and thought provoking doses, with the complexities of lineage as a central theme, and Cruz as the ideal conduit. Almodovar has done it again.
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TITANE
AUTO LUST
john sekerka
Bored? You've come to the right place.
"Titane" is the non-stop, neon-lit, trans-gender looping, body-horror, serial-killing, mechanophilia everyone's been waiting for, or dreading. One of those two.
Spike Lee and his Cannes co-conspirators showered the Palme D'Or on it, but the stuffy Oscar elite snubbed it. There is no middle ground here, it is either a lightning strike of cinematic genius, or a lightning strike of cinematic depravity. Probably both. Confusing would be the best word. Best leave the logic meter at home.
Julia Decournau writes and directs like she's not of this earth, creating a series of surreal story lines shattering the everyday mundane. In the centre of her well crafted cacophony she introduces the extraordinary Agathe Rouselle, an ambivalent killer who magically morphs from a car dancing showgirl (Alexia), to the long lost son of a damaged fire chief (Andrei). Oh and along the way, she has her way with a brand new Cadillac (Clash tune not included, sadly). Her auto tryst is less joyous kink but more violently ecstatic shag, which as all good kids paying attention in health class know, will lead to unfortunate consequences. Forget a few extra pounds, this escalates to horrific body image nightmare, which features a heaping helping of oozing black goo. It is shudderrific.
No more should be said, but hoo-boy, there is so much more. The movie that never lets up, "Titane" boldly goes to spaces and places that are equal parts beautifully stunning, and stomach-turning absurd. Rouselle is unrecognizable after her transformation, physically and emotionally, she is a morphing beauty beast. Her's is extraordinary, laudable, shocking, down right creepy, and easily the performance of the year.
Taboos would be shattered if there was a baseline to work from, but there is no such measuring stick established. "Titane" is bat-shit crazy from the get go, keeps on derailing for the duration, until exploding with a volcanic finale. It is a two hour hot mess of inventive film-making that requires a long, long post-viewing shower. Then perhaps, another.
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RED ROCKET
THE LYIN' KING
john sekerka
Small town Texas, scorched flat, brown landscapes, dusty store fronts, and a drying oil industry in full denial, the perfect backdrop for the futile American wet dream. Glimpsed but not mentioned, the 2016 Trump campaign is clever distant fodder for a place that will inevitably embrace the lies, because lies and broken dreams is all they know. Mining similar class struggles as "The Florida Project", Sean Baker proves an important filmmaker of hard lucked southern state pockets rich in fool's gold.
Sleepy town gets woke when Mikey Saber, the lyin' king and recovering porn star, returns home with his dick between his legs. A bit of a local legend, to his gawky next door neighbour that is. Everyone else can smell the grift, and yet smooth talkin' Mikey slithers his way into his ex's life, house, bed and clothes in short order. Reloading for a return to the land of smut, Mikey spies his ticket for a happy ending with Strawberry, an underage cutie countering the Donut Hole. How this cringey dalliance plays out is testament of America's desperation, clouded with misguided affection and the lure of escape.
Though the story is a good one, what happens is secondary. "Red Rocket" is about capturing a moment, a place, and a people, disrupted by a force of nature they are helpless to control, and secretly, excitedly adore. The storm will pass, the dust will settle, and the grind will resume.
Himself a former adult, tv, and movie star, Simon Rex is perfectly cast as the self-absorbed has-been motor-mouthed bombast who barrels ahead horny teen style while middle age taps his shoulder. He's really really good at being really really bad. Shameless, determined, manipulative, but with a charming smile, Mikey is everyone's Tequila. There will be regret in the morning, but what a ride.
Drink up.
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NO TIME TO DIE
DANNY BOY
john sekerka
As the 25th crack at the whip of the Bond franchise, "No Time To Die" means there cannot possibly be an unbiased diatribe of a well oiled formula carefully concocted to press all the right buttons. So here goes.
Following the whimsical wink-wink silliness of messieurs Moore and Brosnan, the startling coldness and pugilistic rage that Daniel Craig stuffed into an uber tight tuxedo was quite the shock, but now as he exits stage left after four franchise films, he has made a definite imprint. The curtain falls on the most serious 007, and it falls with a bang. Several bangs actually. Checking off the classic spy list - Aston Martin chase: check, drop dead gorgeous leading lady: check, geeky gadgets: check, damaged super villain: check - the latest instalment knows and pleasures its audience to full satisfaction.
The world is in peril, close but secondary associates succumb to shocking ends, rage builds, small scale armies hunt the hero, the hero turns the tables, you know the script. On his fifth swing as Bond, James Bond, Craig drops his tough guy guard a wee bit, revealing some deeply hidden sentiment, and delivering a couple of cracking quips. About time on that. The rest is all action, all the time. Everything from hand to hand combat (always overdone but thrilling), to inventive stunts (always overdone but who cares?), to mind games (always silly but necessary to balance the physical).
This is the perfect pandemic escape watch: full of life, jaw dropping vistas, a yummy colour palette, acrobatic combat, shaken Martinis, silk sheets and dapper fashion. Everyone needs these two hours of a dreamy yet sedentary, private, voyeuristic vacation.
The Bond flicks may be paint by numbers series concoctions, but there are usually a couple of eyebrow raising surprises to keep things interesting. And there's a couple of biggies here.
Since 1962, the spy game has never looked more glamorous, more thrilling, and that is something to count on. Can't wait for the next Bond, whomever she may be - whoopsie.
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DON'T LOOK UP
DON'T LOOK, PERIOD
john sekerka
Cutting to the chase: this is an epic .... disappointment. A disaster movie in every sense, and yet it has elicited enough adulation to give it a rare split on audience consensus. Let's dig deeper.
The polar reaction to "Don't Look Up" may be a classic case of message overwhelming the messenger. Yes climate change (or the pandemic, pick your disaster) is bad, and the efforts of the scientific community to sway political powers to act rapidly on a problem threatening human existence, is frustrating to say the least. But a valid cause to champion on the big screen also needs some form of clever execution to create a viable film. Viable this ain't.
Adam McKay has helmed absurdist comedies ("Anchorman"), and Adam McKay has directed biting drama pieces ("The Big Short"), excelling at each genre. So a high bar expected. Unfortunately, like a hooked fish, "Don't Look Up" starts out strong, then flip flops back and forth before succumbing to a slow and painful ending.
Peppy performances do give hope though. Leonardo DiCaprio is excellent as the exasperated astrophysicist Dr. Randall Mindy, nerdy and nervous, trying his gosh darnedest to explain the gravity of the situation (an imminent Earth destroying comet, the metaphor for the real disaster of your choosing). It is a right proper dramatic tour de force. Bravo. Cate Blanchett is excellent as the self-centered television talking head Barbie doll Brie Evantee, despicably fluffing over real news in search of boffo ratings. It is a right proper slapsticky comedic tour de force. Bravo squared. Each belong in their own movie, but alas, here they share the same screen, among other things.
Is this satire? Is this social commentary? Oh yes, yes it is, and it is hammered home over and over again. Overcooked and bloated, it just tastes and feels off. Was this written on set? Without directorial restraint? Who dulled the editor's scissors?
Injecting some edge into what is a very juicy topic would have played much better, instead we get over the top camp. Head campers Meryl Streep as the villainous President, and Jonah Hill as her Secretary of State hencheman (and son) are ridiculously redundant as the obvious dig at the stable genius and his deplorable offspring. How can that bar sink any lower? A bigger shovel it seems. Skewering horrible people comes off like a playground spat with one tone performances that are painfully embarrassing, especially from the gifted Streep. Hill was parachuted in for a day's worth of ad-libbing, and it sounds it. His lazy, bad frat boy riffing may have a place in his buddies' weed films, but not here. Hill has been very good in restrained (directed) roles ("Moneyball"), proof that he is quite capable. Shame that. The usually excellent Mark Rylance is wasted as a billionaire wacko genius (insert real billionaire wacko genius here), wearing a preposterous Man from Glad white wig, and delivering his bizarre lines in a Bond villain wispy whisper. Where's Will Ferrell when you need him? Back to the Globe Theatre Mark!
The star power here is off the charts, and a lot of money was hurled at this project, but to what end? Proper satire works in an underhanded, nuanced and sneaky fashion, not with a blunt caveman club to the head. Perhaps a paired down version, taking a decided stance on which fork in the drama or comedy road to take, would be watchable. Not just smug, but lazy, this film has too many problematic holes for proper effect. The absence of other nations deciding the fate of planet Earth is truly perplexing, and a huge missed opportunity. Whoops. To posit that any media faction would not jump all over an apocalypse story is crazy. Whoops, they did it again. Once believability is thrown out the window, it is impossible to rekindle.
A lot of love for "Don't Look Up" comes from the tree-hugging community already on board, already preached to, and that affection is understandable. There are horrible things, and there are horrible people, and much of the public feel powerless against and angry with the selfish elite for fekking things up. Surely Climate Change believers can still confess to a film catastrophe, even when it is flogging their ideals with wink wink satire. You can kill the messenger, and still love the message. In spite of very good intentions, this is not a good movie. A self-righteous, condescending and overtly long (142 minutes!) movie with one of the worst, slap-dashed - let's cream pie the audience with one more childish joke - endings. Sadly the "we are right, you are wrong" moral hammered home may do nothing but widen the chasm between opposing sides of the heated Global Warming stances.
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THE POWER OF THE DOG
WHO'S A GOOD BOY?
john sekerka
Who's a good boy indeed. Jane Campion knows, and knows how to properly veil a tense mystery in her wonderful cinematic universe.
A man for all seasons, Benedict Cumberbatch realizes his greatest thespian subversion, a complex, multi-layered antagonist hiding under several sheets of dirt. As cowboy Phil(th), he embraces the quickly disappearing romance of the old West: breaking horses, castrating bulls, caressing saddles, braiding rope, bullying the weak, and plucking a banjo "Deliverance" style. It is a delicious portrayal equal parts tension, mystery and explosion, surely to land an honour or several.
A parade of family victims suffer Phil's glorious wrath: a prim and stumblingly proper brother (played to pasty perfection by everyman actor Jesse Plemons), his meek and suffering wife (a sheepish Kirstin Dunst), and her freakishly frail, praying mantis-like son (the brilliant Kodi Smit-McPhee). This is no simple family affair, but a plethora of simmering duels that toy with the notion of victim.
Backgrounded by Montana's (actually New Zealand's, shhh) gold tinged expanse, "The Power of the Dog" interrupts the typical macho western trope with several homoerotic set pieces. Much like a series of baroque paintings, these scenes of innocent frivolity are carefully and oddly staged to disrupt the dusty landscape and macho story line. They, like everything on screen, are crucial to the clockwork plot, developing the complex characters as they are slowly revealed. There is absolutely no fat to cut here.
Crafting a carefully prolonged and utterly evocative set up, and buoyed by a plucky, often atonal soundtrack by Radiohead Johnny Greenwood (for those who care for such trivia, as you should), Campion leads her helpless audience to a startling and oh so fitting conclusion. "The Power of the Dog" is a thrilling wide screen spectacle befitting plaudit, a crackerjack story to die for, and a sneaky tale that brings much to chew on to the table. Giddy-up!
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BENEDETTA
CHOCK FULL O' NUNS
john sekerka
Dutch director tackles Italian stigmata lesbian nun! And in French! Please sit back down.
Paul Verhoeven has graced us with "RoboCop", "Basic Instinct" and "Showgirls", so a natural progression here. But as it turns out, "Benedetta" isn't as outlandish as that triptych of film bombast, in fact, for the first half, it plays very much like a typical Euro period drama. Taking advantage of historic buildings and creative costume design, Verhoeven nails 17th Century Italy (one assumes), where religion was king, the Plague was raging, and women were misunderstood. Some things never change.
Based on the documented travails of Catholic mystic Benedetta Carlini, this is one outlandish story. Or many. From the minute the child directs a bird dropping on to a thief, it is evident her spiritual powers are not to be messed with. In order to harness her Godly connection, the chosen one is presented to a convent where more miracles follow. Pretty basic stuff. But then, as a young woman, Benedetta is awakened by carnal pleasure and the movie finally takes off. Soon she is dreaming of dreamy Jesus, bleeding Stigmata style, romping sans vetements, and commanding others in a possessed deep growl. Hoo-boy.
Somehow Verhoeven retains control of this feral beast of a project, never letting it off leash into total chaos territory. What actually happened back in the day is speckled speculation - no phone videos to be had - so utter hersay and titular folklore. The visions and miracles are sketchy and shady enough to raise eyebrows, and as is oft the case, witnessed by a select few. Whatever the truth, it sure makes for a super awesome story, one that has survived centuries to reach a big ol' theatre near you. Lucky bastard.
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LUZZU
FISHY BUSINESS
john sekerka
"Luzzu" starts innocently enough with a solitary fisherman plying his trade, and though it touches on a wide variety of big topics - fatherhood, tradition, working-class struggles, Brexit - as well as a thoughtful character study, it never loses the charm of the opening minutes. A story about a third generation Maltese fisherman, played by an actual Maltese fisherman, not only feels true, but has a warm vibe only good fiction can bring. You can almost smell the sea breeze.
Stamped with his baby footprint, "Luzzu" is the colourful family boat passed down for generations, that serious family man Jesmark Scicluna puts to sea on a daily basis. Trouble is the fishing industry is morphing into an unsustainable one, for the little guys anyway. A new born with special medical needs, and thus costs, puts a strain on the family, and Jesmark is asked to consider a career change.
Squeezed by big fish, various restrictions, and cutthroat, often illegal competition, this really is a lone man vs. the sea tale. While Jesmark's decision is a life altering one, and deftly describes the current political situation of many smaller European strugglers, it plays second fiddle to the personal trials of the defiant fisherman. A man of few words, he carries the weight of his world on broad shoulders, seeking to hold on to his heritage right to the breaking point.
Though forced to play the new game in town, a seemingly beaten Jesmark closes the movie with a moving parable to his infant son. A story about a boat, which over the years has been patched up so many times that very little of it remains, but yet, it still remains that boat. "Luzza" is a clever and affectionate tale about conflict, struggle, family, and the determination to retain one's humanity. A winner all around.
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THE HUMANS
THANKSGRATING
john sekerka
A one act play in a crumbly, mouldy, creaky, vacuous, claustrophobic, dark, frigid house, well, apartment, that brings together a family full of secrets and dreads for a thankless Thanksgiving dinner makes an adept transition from stage to screen.
Kin strife over an uncomfortable, obligatory gathering is nothing new, but writer and director Stephen Karam has a few swell tricks up his sleeve. Shot in murky shadows, focusing on physical apartment wounds (water stains, paint bubbles, cracks), and jarring sound clashes (garbage trucks, door creaks, lead footed neighbours, outdoor cacophony), "The Humans" is an unsettling horror score full of jump scares that delivers gratuitous verbal violence of the meanest kind: family back stabs.
Never leaving the premises, Karam traps his prisoners in a two story dungeon joined by a treacherous spiral staircase. Possible escape routes are endless hallways which everyone is powerless to employ but for brief respites before returning to the battle rooms. Back stories are revealed gradually over chatter and drinks, sometimes whispers, often from a distance and to the side, as the camera lens trains on the space structure rather than the humans within. Unsettling to good effect.
An excellent ensemble cast brings the word spar to fast beating life, headed up by Richard Jenkins' brilliantly flawed father figure. It is one damn fine performance. Turns out comedian Amy Schumer does drama, and does it quite well. She is a revelation. More of this to come for sure. There isn't a weak acting link here, impressive for an all in the family affair who take turns digging digs, opening wounds, consoling hurts, and opening hearts. Emotional turmoil for the everyday person, stuck in a squeamish situation of personal circumstance, battling relationship demons whilst strapping on a brave mask. Life.
This thing won a Tony, and will probably show up at the Oscars. Acting is back baby!
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SPENCER
ROYAL MESS
john sekerka
Surrounded by a trio of English thespian heavyweights (Sally Hawkins, Timothy Spall, Sean Harris), American Kristen Stewart, valiantly sheds the last of her "Twilight" past and her L.A. drawl in yet another defining career step as Princess Diana. Quite the feat this.
Taking place on the very posh and very cold and very hard grounds of Sandringham, where every polished vase is perfectly in its place, portraits of cruel kings and suffering queens adorn the walls, rooms are vacuous chambers, halls are never ending, the setting is deliciously ominous.
The Princess of Wales' endless stream of gowns for every occasion are labelled P.O.W. in a clever nod to the prisoner aspect of a manicured existence. Every move is orchestrated, scrupulously observed, and often harshly, derisively dictated. Captive in an expansive castle and of a cluttered mind over the Christmas holidays, this plays like a hallucinatory, terrifying, Royal version of "Home Alone".
Stewart is just right as the whispery lead, clutching to what remains of her humanity in a very inhumane circumstance, suffering under insufferable expectation. Yet we all know this bit of herstory, so why movie it?
This is not so much about the well known ridiculousness of the Royals, as it is an exploration of the fragile, fighting for sanity and normalcy with nary a hope of achieving either. Stewart's dreamy, distant and childlike persona is quickly disrupted by a series of nightmarish apparitions and self harms, as her Diana stumbles to stay upright and functioning. Tripping through suffocating circumstance of isolation, succumbing to bouts of depression, Diana's journey certainly was not the stuff of fairy tales.
Shot with a hazy filter reminiscent of flighty Euro cinema of the eighties, scored with a tension filled beboppy jazz soundtrack referencing the Nouvelle Vague, with meticulously designed set pieces overflowing with ornate embellishments, and paced with extreme military precision, "Spencer" is definitely a mood setter; a mood not everyone may care for.
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THE HIDDEN LIFE OF TREES
ROOTS
john sekerka
If a tree falls in a forest, does it hurt? Peter Wohlleben would like a word, or several thousand. "The Hidden Life of Trees" follows the maverick tree hugger around as he tries to make the case for a complex, communicating community of wood. Based on his best selling book of the same name, the documentary brings the lanky German to life as a media savvy eco-warrior with some astounding propositions. Dispelling some startling myths like our misguided attempt to reseed the forest instead of letting nature do all the work, is chief to the power of this film.
The composting, self-fertilizing nature of rotting trees, and the connection with the entire ecosystem is an eye-opener. Wohlleben gets a little carried away though, whimsically portraying trees as sentient beings capable of high level communication. Yes there is some kind of interplay here in nature's wonderland, which humans are probably best to leave the damn alone, but social advances by trees like making agreements with fungi, would be better served with less magical wonder and more actual science.
The movie works best when presenting clinical facts with beautiful cinematography, aiming at the just the right balance of eco awareness, eco dread, and possible eco solutions. Trees do appear to be more complex than anyone ever imagined and their existence is chief to our own, so a better understanding of what the heck is going on in the woods is probably a pretty good idea. Wohlleben comes across as a lone wolf advocate, which sadly, is the case for many an important cause. This doc just might change all that.
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SHANG-CHI AND THE LEGEND OF THE TEN RINGS
CROUCHING NOCORN
john sekerka
Twelve year old me loved this movie. It is big, bold, colourful, action packed, fun, funny, and has flying dragons. Cranky codger me says no to flying dragons. Sorry to any preteens peeking in (highly unlikely), flying dragons are a silly figment of someone's imagination. A movie with flying dragons is difficult to take seriously. Sorry kids. There is also some shocking news about Santa Clause, but let's save that for another day.
The good news here: Marvel again steps up to the plate in their inclusivity transformation of what movie making can and should be: Asian playing Asians! They also manage to keep the rest of their superhero Universe from ruining what is a pretty good martial arts film by inserting the briefest of brief Marvel cameos to keep the all important story arc threaded. As usual for the studio, the supporting cast is pretty sweet. Ben Kingsley with a Ringo accent absolutely slays. Ronnie Chieng in a brief but outrageous cameo absolutely slays. Awkwafina in a major cameo absolutely slays. Tony Leung as the dark father and ring master absolutely slays, slays a lot.
The bad news: let's face facts, it may not be possible to make a good martial arts movie. Just when things get interesting we get a fight sequence where combatants, while absorbing what should be lethal blows, magically fly backwards unscathed. Zero gravity time baby! Why is this a thing? Used to be done with wires, so very obvious, and oddly enough, even with CGI at the ready, we still get that bizarre old school wire look. Homage has its limits. And lastly and most sadly the rousing cast of secondary characters pretty well squeezes Simu Liu into a not so main character role. Kinda forgettable if truth be told. That's a problem. A big problem.
The really cool highlights in "Shang-Chi", like the morphing forest maze, are a series of disconnected sequences that seem parachuted in, super fun but not integral to the story. As is often the case in the Marvel Universe, someone in the art department went a little crazy. With "Black Panther" it was the robot rhinos, and here it is a bizarre shimmering, sequinned horse hybrid (a hornless unicorn, so a nocorn?). Oh and then there are the cute furry, winged animals (get ready for the Xmas plush toy stampede) who somehow survive without any orifices. No really: nothing goes in, nothing goes out, and yet it lives, and also communicates! Not just weird, but kinda disturbing.
Shame about all these niggling details, but they do ruin what could be a grand cinematic experience, an epic of epic proportions, though relentlessly formulaic, a family affair that nicks Shakespearian conflict, culminating with volcanic battle scenes of archery, catapults, swords, martial chopping and uh, oh yeah, flying dragons.
The Marvel Universe is making strides, especially with the dark and moody "Black Widow", and the hilariously over the top, potty-mouthed "Deadpool". "Shang-Chi" is a heroic stray away from the usual masked heroes in tights genre, but it just needs less than more. A lot less. Chop chop.
Twelve year olds rejoice!
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MOGUL MOWGLI
BROWN RAP
john sekerka
Anothe Riz Ahmed project dealing with the possible derailment of a music career due to a health issue? Yes, and this may be Oscar nomination number two for the young upstar(t). "Mogul Mowgli" does an excellent job of setting up the trending career of British born to Pakistani parents rapper Zed - easy since it parallels the real life of actor, writer, rapper Ahmed (Riz MC to you), but it is the physical and mental torment that ensues with a family visit that is the real pulse in the film.
Attacked by his more traditional circle who find it hard to recognize the high flying rapper, and attacked by his body's immune system because it cannot recognize itself, Zed the rapper and Zaheer the son sees his rosy world come crashing to a violent halt in a double whammy of identity theft.
During a frantic hospital stay on the eve of a major tour, an unsettling past haunts a desperate Zaheer in a series of hallucinatory sequences as he searches for his mind and his body. The historical context, left unexplained except for a few cloudy clues, refers to the 1947 Pakistani and Indian partition, more specifically the short story "Toba Tek Singh" that deals with the repercussions of creating a border and shuffling people based on religious lines. Oh those crazy Brits.
Identity is a complex struggle Zaheer is forced to reconcile as his life crumbles, and he is literally and figuratively stuck in no man's land. Borderless.
Slickly edited, from flashy concert scenes to humble immigrant apartment life, "Mogul Mowgli" flows freely from English to Urdu in a wonderful rhythm, especially poignant when father and son move from stilted social niceties to butting stubborn heads. All of this heaviness boils down to the Riz Ahmed and Ally Khan show, and a damn fine show it is.
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STRAY
GOOD BOY
john sekerka
Just what everyone is missing from their life: more doggie videos.
Shot from a wonderful ground level pooch point of view, "Stray" follows a wayward pack on the streets of Istanbul as they play, scrap, mooch, befriend, sleep, and just plain struggle to survive. Without context or history, this movie just is. And it is intoxicating.
Aligning themselves with another bunch of outcasts - homeless refuge orphans - the canines offer a different take on the man's best friend cliche, one that finds common bond in flight, survival and squatting. In what is a desperate, dangerous, harsh and bleak existence, the pack finds not only solace, but also camaraderie and slivers of unexpected joy.
Accentuated by dreamy cello accompaniment, there's a wonderful wordless poetic vibe permeating throughout, creating an enticing, sometimes hypnotic viewing experience. Often the focus of exotic wildlife films, "Stray" proves the gymnastic dance of mammal movement also exists on unforgiving city streets.
Includes a grand howl to prayer finale so you know you wanna like and subscribe.
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NINE DAYS
SOLE
john sekerka
'Tis a rare cinematic beast that presents an original, thought provoking premise, and executes it stumble free to perfection. Many a bold visions lose their direction halfway through the popcorn box, but not here. Not an easy task, considering the heady subject matter.
Without spoiling with the spoilers, a tricky thing with this one, "Nine Days" tackles the human soul, questions the existence of existence, and offers a thrilling treatise on the meaning of life, whatever life is.
Last seen towering in the Marvel Universe, the imposing Winston Duke slips into the calm, assuring and almost folksy body of Will, a gatekeeper of sorts, tasked with determining the fate of several candidates vying for the job of their lives. A meticulous, calm, slow paced figure, gentle and empathetic, Will does not take his decisions lightly. For various reasons, some obvious, some to be discovered. His portrayal is magnificent. It carries the film.
Playing out like the antithesis of "The Apprentice", or perhaps "Survivor", instead of superficial fluff "Nine Days" unfolds (patience is rewarded) by asking important questions. Questions that resonate for everyone involved (the audience as well). How all this is created - a totally unique, psychological, spiritual mystery that feels earthy - is half the magic of the movie.
Usually a thought-provoking arrow shot up in the air will have a limited, if devout target, but "Nine Days" touches such a universal subject that it may become quite the sensation. The talkie is officially back in vogue, and a reading of Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" is the perfect cherry on this delicious thespian cake. Yummy.
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THE EXCHANGE
LE FROMAGE
john sekerka
Small town drab Ontario, mid-eighties, The Smiths poster on the bedroom wall, and a soft spot for France's New Wave cinema. Classic class nerd. Four-eyed and heartbreakingly awkward, Tim (Ed Oxenbould) finds a glimmer of hope to his sad sack existence with foreign exchange student Stephane (Avan Jogia). But instead of bileting a dissonant, trench-coated, intellectual poet, his mail ordered bride is a chain-smoking, acid washed greaseball, more interested in bedding the graduating class than discussing great cinema.
Add bumbling parents, a ridiculously mustachioed gym teacher, an obvious love interest to the mix, and everything's in place for a feel good teen RomCom. Jogia is wonderful as the strutting fish out of water, obliviously embarrassing his local chaperone to no end. Yet the cookie cutter plot holds few surprises, as it methodically moves from initial, flirtatious fun, to some oil slicked drama mid-film, before bringing everyone and everything together in a tidy full circle. There's life in the characters, the film has some good laughs, but several interesting ideas are left dangling, and it lacks a knockout punch.
The "Exchange" is certainly not without charm, but in the end, a tad underwhelming.
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DELIVER US FROM EVIL
EVIL RAY OF SUNSHINE
john sekerka
This is one humid movie. Everyone is sweating. Beads and beads of sweat in glorious close ups. No time to towel off you see, as there's too much action for hygiene. Bathed in thick burnt yellow hues, "Deliver Us From Evil" is a non-stop Korean action film with a capital A. This go-go thriller pits two veteran hitmen in each other's path of destruction, which means boffo fight scenes and ridiculous collateral damage for the solid duration.
Sure there's plot, but that's irrelevant. A daughter needs to be saved, a brother needs to be avenged, a retiring agent is called in for one last job; the script writes itself. In-nam (a stoic and very sweaty Hwang Jung Min) travels to exotic locales (Tokyo, Bangkok), stalking a nasty kidnapping ring, with The Butcher (an even sweatier Ling Jung-jae) in hot pursuit. Good and evil are clearly defined, as The Butcher - you can call me Ray - dominates his scenes in a stylishly dark, over the top psychotic performance. Combat is often close quartered, impressively acrobatic and darn clever, with that parkour flavour born of the Bourne series.
This film delivers the goods, and the evils, in copious amounts. Rooting comes easy, jeering too. Leave logic at the door and c'mon in.
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BLACK WIDOW
SCARLETT FEVER
john sekerka
The Marvel Universe is reeling. Well, the feverish fans are. Instead of the usual endless chock a block CGI army battles the Avengers series suffers from, "Black Widow" concentrates more on back story, comedic touches and a healthy dose of James Bondish intrigue. Heck, they even pay proper homage by having Roger Moore as 007 on the telly in an opening sequence. Bravo!
That means less cataclysmic explosions, and no destruction of civilizations. Less is more. Less destruction, but still plenty on a more psychological level, if you get the drift. We even have Ray Winstone as a deliciously sleazy Bond type villain, slurping his salacious world domination lines. Where's the white pussy? Black Widow is more acrobat and firearm expert than sheHulk, and thus the action has to be paired down to almost reasonable levels, where agility and smarts will win the day. Cool.
Yet alas, this is Marvel, and thus there are issues. These are not really films, they are entertainment vehicles that fill a coupla hours with fantasy escapism. Accents come and go. Continuity seems like a costly premium. Bone crushing blows are quickly brushed off. Bad dudesses come crashing through the ceiling for no apparent reason other than it is super cool. This is action Hollywood damn it, do not question reason! You know the score. And yes, there is some crazy CGI explosive awesomeness for the comic book diehards. Thankfully "Black Widow" is entertaining enough to gloss over the silliness; it is quite easy to sit back with a giant bag of popcorn and eat it all up.
Scarlett Johansson is excellent in the sexy (yet asexual), clever and self-effacing lead, martial arting her way through robotic foes (one at a time of course), and handling a motorbike through ridiculous traffic like, well, you know who.
As a nice bonus David Harbour playing the bad father and failed super hero, threatens to steal the movie, but he is discretely inserted for just the right amount of kicks. The ideal supporting character, part of an insistent dysfunctional family reunion that gives our heroine a muddled history tree to trim as she attempts to save the world while sorting out some family strife.
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PIG
CAGE CLOSED
john sekerka
Is this the movie year of the pig, or the year of the fungi? Yes, yes it is.
Hair is long and matted. Scruffy beard hiding his face. Collecting scrapes and bruises and cuts that map his mug as the movie trudges on. Nic Cage has never looked worse, and he's never been better.
After years in B-movie wilderness, much of it quite grand in the manic, out of control demonic thespian sense, Nicolas Cage returns in perhaps his most restrained performance. It is all glances, silent pauses, old man groans and whispery words. And even when shit happens, the only fist clenched rage comes from the viewing audience.
There's a lovely, comedic foodie aspect to this weirdo film noire tale, presented as a three course menu. So, very cool. A Baroque cinematic experience, full of deep reddish browns, shadowy portraits, exquisite detail, cartoonish characters, and scenes that beg for a scratch and sniff card (for better or worse).
A dishevelled hermit in a wooden shack even his pig knows a wolf could blow down, Rob survives by collecting expensive, hip resto delicacy fungi with the guidance of his clever companion: The Truffle Pig! The backstory of this existence is murky, with only a few clues pointing to some kind of personal trauma. "Pig" slowly unravels a past Rob is uneasy to reveal, let alone revisit. His forced return to civilization is full of quirky tangents and story lines, altercations that surprise as well as incrementally clarify.
As Amir, the truffle go-between dealer kid with a flashy yellow Camaro, a cocky attitude and wild-eyed disbelief, Rob's reluctant conduit to city life, Alex Wolf concocts some wonderful, odd-ball buddy-buddy chemistry, and a semblance of nervous, neurotic normalcy when matters grow out of hand.
This is a small film (yes), with small ideas (maybe not), that flows in unexpected and startling directions (most welcome). Full of emotional angst and suffocating confrontations, it doesn't shy away from brutal violence, but save for one shattering scene, never allows the main character to stray from his messianic, martyr demeanour.
Temper biased expectations, this is not recent Cage film bombast. It is something completely different, and quite special. Delicious.
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GAIA
TERRA TERROR
john sekerka
Turning the tables on the royal we destroying Earth, "Gaia" is a revenge fantasy where humankind gets a whiff of life as an endangered species. Sadly this is our inevitable fate, but here mother earth takes on a more pro active role. Our demise is a bizarre reforestation of sorts.
A pair of park rangers, with well meaning pro environment aspirations, trek into thick jungle waters with dire results. Of course. You can enter, but leaving is another matter. Mother Nature, in the form of a far reaching, breathing, growing, vengeful fungi comes alive at night. Plumes of spores infecting and reproducing with heaving pulses. Thick with atmosphere. Alluring cinematography. Stunning vistas. This is one succulent movie.
A couple of totally off the grid subjects (father and son) are already on board, providing much needed thread from the stunned rangers to the psychedelic goings on in this magical mushroom kingdom. What is real and what is not, is not so clear, creating a frustrating mystery aspect to the dreamy passages. It is beautiful, lush, creative and unsettling. Unfortunately the trippy trip is eventually dissected by some all too physical confrontations, steering the film into standard eco-horror fare.
Barend, the caveman like survivalist father who favours the most inappropriate of tree hugging, dresses like a caveman, owns a weird combination of encyclopedic knowledge, alchemy expertise, and a penchant for culty religious hogwash, is the most entertaining character running around the forest, yet his background and transformation from civilization are never duly explored.
What is clear is that slowly but surely, the creeping, growing organism that lies underfoot is a force of uh, nature, and there will be mayhem. Can't decide whether it is a thought-provoking cautionary tale (don't mess with nature) or slick monster flick (nature messes with you). Either way it does get messy. Pretty and messy. Pretty Messy.
An interesting and stylish take on infections, and all matters natural that we can't quite control, "Gaia" could have been quite powerful if handled with more restraint. Still worth a look though.
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NEW ORDER
GREEN MONDAY
john sekerka
The revolution will be bathed in, uh, green. An odd choice, and one that may excite environmentalists until it becomes quite clear that "New Order" is all about class struggle, and not climate change.
In his visceral dystopian Mexico City tale, director Michel Franco pushes buttons, many, many buttons. Class discrepancy is on crystal clear display via the glamourous wedding reception opening, interrupted by a former employee's desperate plea of funds to save his dying wife. Greeted with faint empathy, some not so well-disguised contempt, and an unsatisfactory handout, he is briskly and discretely ushered off the premises. When the heart of gold princess bride to be gets a whiff of the events, she bolts the mansion to save the day. The disrupted nuptial festivities is soon the least of the elites' niggling problems, as revolutionaries storm the grounds and matters get nasty mighty quick.
Touching similar themes (and cinematic flare) as "Parasite", "New Order" captures the explosive desperation when the haves meet the have-nots on level ground. Digging deep to turn the classes upside down, the focus is on the inherent greed and situational compassion dichotomy lurking in most everyone. It is uncomfortable, disruptive, vicious, anxiety inducing, and bluntly shocking. But unlike "Parasite", there are no moments of levity. No amusing interludes. No time to digest the revolving, evolving struggle. Barely time to take a breath. Many factions are involved, taking turns ruling the day, with corruption and merciless brutality the only common threads. It is a bleak, ninety minute commentary on a world that doesn't seem too far away, creating a provocative, powerful film.
The dystopia of fiction past is unfortunately an unsettling present day proposition in many parts of the world. How it plays out is anyone's guess. Franco's is now on the big screen.
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CENSOR
VIDEO NASTY
john sekerka
It's 1984, you can tell by the chorded phones, but more importantly by the explosion of horror VHS tapes. A banned film loophole, tapes bypassed the cinema system, allowing the production of what was salaciously labelled in Margaret Thatcher's Britain as Video Nasties. These were convenient targets in the rising crime blame game and made for perfect tabloid fodder. A rating system was quickly cobbled in place, and a dedicated team of censors with sharp scissors decided the fate of the new art form. It was an interesting time.
As bookish, spectacled and hair-bunned Enid, Niamh Algar is delightfully stoic as a choice cutter who seems unaffected by the steady stream of B-movie drek she has to wade through on a daily basis. Enid debates screen violence with her co-workers in a professional, clinical, detached manner, like she was dead inside. Turns out a part of her may be just that, in the form of her missing sister. A mysterious disappearance from childhood days that is quite the obsession. Even though their parents want to move on, Enid is defiant and desperate to find her younger sibling. Things get interesting.
What begins as a moody mystery slowly morphs into psychological thriller as Enid traverses from her boring reality into the surreal world of horror movie making. With not so subtle nods to David Cronenberg's "Videodrome", "Censor" plays with the blurry lines of fact and fiction, steadily ramping up the pitch before climaxing to a bizarre finale. Enid finally lets her hair down, the screen turns red, and things get super crazy.
Not for the squeamish, "Censor" becomes the film within the film, deliver some ketchuppy eighties gore, startling video style glitchy edits, a host of creepy performances, and an ending sure to fire up the discussion boards.
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NIGHT OF KINGS
BEDTIME STORY
john sekerka
When survival means keeping a dangerous, unruly, and captive mob at bay with an overnight tall tale, it better be good.
"Night of Kings" is a riveting, theatrical Ivory Coast prison film that eschews physical action in favour of a flowing, Shakespearian drama. Run by an aging overlord dubbed Blackbeard, this cramped world capsule on the verge of anarchy is a clever analogy of larger systems beyond these walls. Their ruler is in trouble, with his health failing he must hold off the warring factions hungry for power, and he chooses a fresh inmate to cast a spell of procrastination with a red moon story. His new "Roman" is tasked with enrapturing the heaving masses until the moon sets, a feat that will spare his life.
Though based on fact, the story within the story about the revered Zama King, is enriched with magical fiction which serves to engage the itchy inmates who prove a tough but eager audience.
The oral tradition of history is a fascinating one, and "Night of Kings" shows how an effective messenger can develop the plot for various means. As rival gangs scramble in their quest for power, velvety rich colours pierce the shadows of the MACA prison transforming the harsh institution into a vibrant stage. For one night at least.
Will the messenger survive the night? What really happened to the Zama King? Who will seize power? Patience, patience.
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GUNDA
RUNT
john sekerka
A stunning black and white silent (save the grunting) documentary that soft focuses on the life of a pig. Seems innocuous enough, but there is magic here. Shot at ground level, and sparing nothing from farm life, "Gunda" is not here to shock, or illicit clown tears, but to have a look, like a wide-eyed child might back in the day when summers were not filled with organized sports camps or school continuation. It captures that slow, languid, breezy feel of beautiful boredom.
Opening with the birth of a litter, it follows the towering mother sow as she clumsily deals with the runt of her offspring. It is astonishing, inviting, and then shockingly cruel. What is happening is not exactly clear, and there is no deep voice over to mansplain nature. That is the beauty of this film: it evolves along with the undetermined storyline.
A slow, dreamy bit of cinema, "Gunda" works well in transporting the audience to a world most are familiar with but few actually know or have experienced hands on. The sharp monochrome delivery turns a pigsty into a pleasant aesthetic. The absence of smell helps. Nothing revelatory here, and since this is a farm, well, let's just say that the animals are not in charge, and there is a sudden dramatic turn to remind everyone about life's cold harsh realities.
"Gunda" is an animal film that is really not an animal film. It is a brilliant exercise in moment capture, shot with an addictive lens, documenting some life lessons, without preaching or dwelling on anything in particular. Pigs in showbiz are usually funny, smart or exotic. Not here. "Gunda" is a mother, and that is that.
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STILL THE WATER
POTATO PUCKS
john sekerka
P.E.I. Family trauma. Adultery. Folk music. Hockey. Did I mention P.E.I.?
Jordie is a hulking, awkward hockey player returning home as somewhat of a local legend with what appears to be a tail between his legs. There is a mysterious dark past, and plenty of tension, amplified by the crowded circumstance. Small town? Howsabout small island? There is no escaping the past. Many will require nothing more. This is your wheelhouse. Good for you. Sadly, for those willing to remove rose coloured islander glasses, this is not a great viewing experience.
Stark realism is great if it ain't clunky, and damn, this is clunky. Unspoken secrets only work if some loose lips let slip, otherwise there is but conjecture and eventually, ambivalence. When sibling matters come to a lobster boil, the drama is pretty anti-climactic. A fishing boat scene, which should be life and death serious, plays embarrassingly tepid. The brothers do come to inevitable blows, and it is on the ice (get it: "Still the Water"), but they are on the same team. Yes the same team. Needless to say, any hockey aficionado will have a problem or twelve with the shinny sequences. The footage is akin to a beer league scenario, not from supposed Memorial Cup skaters. This is John Candy as Darryl Sittler silly, except it ain't played for laughs. Who throws down their stick (several times, this is Jordy's go to move) when mad? No one. No one does. The stilted and perplexing road hockey scenes on bumpy dirt roads are excruciatingly awful. Was there not a hockey player available as consultant? Maybe a seven year old with a rudimentary knowledge of the sport? C'mon!
As a wrinkled cherry on a collapsing cake, the big finale happens at centre ice in a darkened, empty arena, because that is where everyone hangs out when they look for redemption. Sports cliches are back baby!
Is the film this bad? Perhaps not. The music is fine. The scenery lovely. It does capture that odd islander vibe. Perhaps anyone not privy to the nuances of hockey will squeeze some sort of entertainment from this picture. Stranger things have happened.
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RIDERS OF JUSTICE
THE B-TEAM
john sekerka
A rolling and coasting thrill ride with abrupt gear changes to keep everyone guessing is the bestest Hollywood smirk action blockbuster to come out of Denmark.
Mads Mikkelson stars, of course, as a stone faced army machine brought home from one tour of duty to another. The shocking death of his wife paratroops our hero back into civilian life where a reluctant teenage daughter awaits parenting.
The circumstance of tragedy leads to the inevitable daft father surly daughter clash, and the movie looks well on the way to an emotional series of life lessons. Don't hunt for the tissues just yet, for there is more afoot than meets the misty eye.
Guilt haunted by the explosive train crash which he luckily survived, a conspiracy nut and statistician whiz seeks some sort of redemption, which he finds in a far fetched theory, that once numbers are crunched becomes too plausible not to act on. Joined by a couple of other keyboard tapping stooges, they manage to convince our hero of their theory. With a satisfying explanation and a villain to focus on, Markus (Mikkelson) goes into combat revenge mode. It is awesome, and much easier than parenting. Grief is hard, revenge is easy.
Tagging along in a bizarre B-Team special forces unit of misfits - computer geeks with guns - brings much needed levity to an otherwise efficient by the numbers body count flick. The oddball characters' hilarious internal squabbling and deadpan commentary provide the perfect balance for this dark, violent tale.
"Riders of Justice" plays on the theory of chance, that certain choices no matter how insignificant, lead to a series of events. And true to theory, everything is linked from start to finish in a clever loop that wraps this movie present with a wonderful Christmas bow. A real Danish treat. Cheers.
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THE KILLING OF TWO LOVERS
HOME RENOVATION
john sekerka
Getting right to the point, the film opens with a tense bedroom scene as a man shakingly points a gun at a sleeping couple. How all this came to be is not fully explored, there is no tidy backstory. Shit is happening, and it may not stop.
Shot in a claustrophobic 4:3 aspect ratio which renders the colourless dustbowl expanses into small town landscapes of no escape, exasperated by long and tight pickup truck cab shots. A very effective aesthetic.
Though presented as a young family struggling through a trial separation, we only see the events through David: his love, his confusion, his despair, his denial, his mistakes. Clayne Crawford is excellent in the role, adopting a fragile and vulnerable bravado facade as he valiantly and clumsily fights to regain his family, and some semblance of normalcy without really understanding what is going on.
He is cordial, southernly mannered, respectful of his elders and overtly sweet to his kids, yet quick to temper and prone to missteps. He is easy to like, easy to hate, and easy to sympathize with. The rock on the bottom is coming into focus.
In what is otherwise a gripping drama, there lurks the lack of development of everyone in David's immediate circle, especially his wife. This plot restraint may not feel satisfactory, but it does reinforce the fact that everything revolves around David, for good or bad.
Besides the bleak and cramped cinematography, "The Killing of Two Lovers" ramps up the tension with an insistent, rumbling, percussive soundtrack punctuated by twig snaps and door slams. Audioscapes found mostly in the horror genre. It's as if the movie is breathing, has a life of its own, or perhaps burning. Quite disconcerting.
This is all about what's going on in David's head, which is a dark, noisy, hazy ball of confusion. Whatever happens, it is evident that it will not be great.
Real life can be brutal at the best of times, but it is relationships that suffer, and even though there are a bevy of multiple choice answers, none of then are easy, or any good for that matter. A film that sticks around long after the credits have rolled to black.
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FRENCH EXIT
LET US EAT CAKE
john sekerka
An oddball movie celebrating all things not so long ago retro, featuring a deadpan quirky cast maneuvering through insignificant misadventures, set to a well manicured soundtrack, "French Exit" invites comparison to a Wes Anderson project. That is a compliment, by the way.
With a strawberry red do and a classy cocktail party wardrobe, Michelle Pfeiffer is absolutely delicious as a suddenly destitute socialite. What does one do in such a dire state of affairs? Go to Paris of course. With her obedient, almost adult son Malcolm in tow, Frances continues to live her fabulous life as her last stack of cash quickly disappears. What should be a source of worry is immaterial, creating a weird empathy from the audience. How is it possible to root for a privileged one percenter who obliviously carries on, without much hope of any revelation? Wicked.
The Paris getaway soon becomes a bit of a squat situation, with seemingly the entire cast, which grows to include a housekeeper and a private investigator, suddenly crowding a posh apartment. There is drama, as Malcolm's spurned ex (the always terrific Imogen Poots) arrives with her new beau, but this comes sans fireworks, instead the movie is hijacked by the sudden disappearance of Small Frank, the cat.
This is one dry film, but with a sly sense of hilarious detachment in a series of clever vignettes that will surely delight the outsider crowd. You know who you are. Wink wink.
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IN THE EARTH
FOREST FRIGHT
john sekerka
A successful horror movie should be enthralling enough to suspend any rational reasoning, because, let's face it, logic is seldom found in the genre. Sure sure, there's usually a plausible mystery setting the table, but soon enough the dining tablecloth is pulled out and all hell breaks loose.
This is the sink or swim portion of the experience, where audiences are either reeled in or lost to whatever's on Netflix. And though "In The Earth" has a lot of loose end, batshit explaining to do, it provides just the right amount of vibrant thrills for a passing grade.
There are curveballs a plenty here to swing at, which makes the developing, tangled plotline tough to decipher, but who cares, there's a slinky temptation about the proceedings that just works. What appears to be a pandemic epic, quickly turns into a scientific camping trip that is equal parts Dr. Moreau and Blair Witch. Spoiler: not so much fun.
Science mixes with mythology, wacky experiments are run, relationships are strained, tenting goes awry. Mother Earth, as welcoming friend, vengeful foe or perhaps just a vibrant backdrop, dominates the screen in a rich tapestry of greens and reds, unforgiving terrain, and impenetrable fog. A feast for the eyes, especially the throbbing, pulsing, sporing mushrooms. She breathes!
As horror 101 would dictate, we have the bewildered innocents hunted by the psychotic elements. There's another worldly "Deliverance" desperation feel here, as our reluctant couple scramble for survival in an ecosystem they can't seem to escape, tormented by a lunatic fringe on a crazy Pagan ritual bender.
Joel Fry is especially well cast as the gangly, stumbling, helpless Martin, who spends a good chunk of the adventure trying to avoid various foot problems. Not for the squeamish, these podiatry sequences escalate to comical proportions. That is the sign of horror success: when a guffaw is elicited during what is otherwise considered a most unfortunate circumstance.
Filmed economically, with scalpel precision by Ben Wheatley, "In The Earth" proves the power behind the less is more aesthetic, especially when clever camera work is employed.
The end may be a bit lacking and open ended for those who prefer proper, paint by numbers closure, but hell, the throbbing ride alone is worth the ticket. Recommended unless over stimulation, aurally and visually, proves too disturbing. But then again, this is not the genre for the weak. Buck up!
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THE MARKSMAN
BORDERLINE
john sekerka
Sometimes there's no accounting for taste, or explaining it. In spite of a steady and virulent stream of rather dismissive reviews, "The Marksman" has found its audience, and offers just enough to pass for a mindless time spender that doesn't feature boffo CGI battles.
Spoiler: Liam Neeson. There, it had to be said. Liam Neeson with a gun, to be more specific. A dusty, grizzled war veteran. A trusty dog. The evil Mexican drug cartel. A barb-wired border wall. A sack of money. A doe-eyed kid. An American flag waving in the desert wind. Everything is in its proper place.
This is basically Clint Eastwood Mach II territory: a traditional senior caught up in today's young criminal thug world, using old school techniques to outsmart, outshoot and outpunch the stunned whipper snappers. And yet, it doesn't play by the set out cookie cutter pattern. The old coot never resorts to any macho posturing, instead he reluctantly slips into dangerous waters as circumstances dictate. It's a bit of an acting transformation for an actor who clearly owns some chops, but has been saddled with his current robotic action hero stereotype.
The plot may be pedantic dumb, but who needs smart when Neeson is commanding the screen, and we have the classic good guy vs. the bad guys showdown with sides oh so easy to take.
Next up: the comedy we all know thespian Liam has deep within his stone cold soul.
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TINY TIM: KING FOR A DAY
GOD BLESS TINY TIM
john sekerka
The documentary few knew they were waiting on, "King For a Day" is an intriguing chronicle of a most bizarre novelty act shooting star that flew, sparkled, burned bright and quickly. Tiny Tim remains an odd and utterly unforgettable memory for the majority of baby boomers who were there to witness the trajectory. Everyone else henceforth now gets a chance to catch up.
There's a lot to unpack here, and even at almost two hours, it barely scratches the surface, but for now, it will do. The foggy story of Herbert Butros Khaury is shrouded in mystery, but what we do know is that the falsetto singing, ukulele playing, kiss blowing, clownish hippie with exaggerated facial features and shoulder length mop, came prancing awkwardly out of nowhere to dominate late sixties television airwaves. Riding the inexplicable popularity of Vaudeville staple "Tiptoe Through the Tulips", Tiny Tim competed with Jimi Hendrix and The Rolling Stones on the charts, and became a staple darling on talk shows, culminating in his boffo rated wedding to Miss Vicky on the "Tonight Show".
Like a lousy cake, the fall was as quick as the rise, and the general public moved on. "King for a Day" mixes the super saturated boob tube coverage, fond remembrances of close friends, stark black and white animation of the early years, and grainy video footage of the rough last years.
And though the tale answers a lot of questions, it digs up plenty more. The childhood years seem sketchy at best, based solely on Khaury's writings (narrated by Weird Al Yankovic, naturally), and it is never clear what is and isn't fiction. The transition from a gig in a run down New York freak show to major network stardom on trend setting "Laugh-In" is never properly addressed. Was Khaury always in character? Was it a character? We may never know. Perhaps it is for the best.
The swift downfall is harsh, and presented in cruel fashion. Makes for good cinema, but the truth is that in latter years, Tiny Tim was being embraced by the alternative music scene, appearing in concert with Camper Van Beethoven, recording with the New Duncan Imperials, and releasing an outlandishly captivating Christmas album. His encyclopedic knowledge and love for old timey music is hinted at: Bob Dylan, an astute musical historian himself, wanted to make a film. There's just so much more to Tiny Tim's story (his skate with the Toronto Maple leafs!) that begs uncovering. Perhaps this is just part one in the series, and thus serves well as a tasty appetizer.
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THE COURIER
RUSSIAN ROULETTE
john sekerka
1962, where were you? The United States of America. The Soviet Union. John F. Kennedy. Nikita Khrushchev. The Cuban Missile Crisis. The Cold War at it's chilliest point. This is the Mount Everest of spy climbs, where the world teetered on the edge of World War Three, and nuclear annihilation was a duck and cover possibility.
With such high stakes on the political table, it seems almost comical for a movie to focus on a wispy moustachioed business chap who is lured into the dark corners of espionage as a possible delivery node. Benedict Cumberbatch and his hairy stiff upper lip is perfectly startled and flabbergasted at an MI6 and CIA proposal luncheon, but is soon swapping packages in Moscow, and nervously delighting in his new exciting and very covert life. Greville Wynne, yes real name, was in for the adventure of a lifetime.
Though, real life adventures are rather less glamorous than the spy film genre would lead us to believe. Who would have thought? "The Courier" doesn't glamourize history in favour of typical Hollywood bombast, instead preferring to unfold the little known story within a much bigger story, in a proper, methodical way. When Greville is presented a special lapel pin by the CIA for his venture, he eagerly inquires if it shoots poison darts. Alas it does not, the accoutrement is merely an identifier. Greville is no James Bond. He is a schmoozing salesman, who's international highlight is a Russian ballet that moves him to tears.
Still there is plenty of shadowy intrigue, shadowy tension and shadowy cinematography, and because the players are not household names, their outcome quite in doubt. Don't Google wreck the mystery. "The Courier" is a trim and proper spy caper with excellent performances and just the right mix of historical fact and cloudy fiction. A small film about a very big time, that hits the sweet spot like afternoon tea and crumpets.
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HELD
SIMON SAYS
john sekerka
A remote getaway to get away from it all, turns out to be a bad idea, because, all is under rated, and one should not try and get away from it. This is what horror movies are all about: lack of logic. And yet, here we are again.
Attempting to resurrect a failing marriage, a couple try and escape their troubles in an isolated vacation home that is equal parts concrete chic and smart security dungeon. Apart from a pool, and the lack of nosy neighbours, there's really not much here to rekindle any sparks, and the weekend seems like a doomed proposition. Except that it gets worse. Forget awkward relationship strife, howsabout a prison scenario with a mystery foe dictating the proceedings? Get out of line and whammo, an implant blasts the victims helpless.
Forcing our stupefied couple into a bizarre patriarchal game of fifties style gender role play, "Held" builds a promising premise but fails to deliver a knockout punch. There's plenty of room for slivers of comedy, perhaps some parody, escalating tension, physical mayhem, or maybe a crazed Nick Cage with an axe. But alas no, none of that.
An interesting mid film twist is all but inevitable but not unwelcome, yet the post reveal action is paint by numbers pedantic.
Too bad. There are a couple of undeveloped plot lines - an opening assault flashback, and an adult son from a previous relationship - left dangling, which may have flushed out the story if revisited. Perhaps hasty editing was the culprit, whatever the case, "Held" doesn't hold together.
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SHIVA BABY
MAZEL TOUGH
john sekerka
The relentless interrogation onslaught of relatives near and distant in any gathering is plot enticing, but a post funeral shiva makes it a comedic, claustrophobic proposition of terrifying proportions.
As the doughy-eyed Danielle, Rachel Sennott hits all the right and wrong notes of a young Jewish adult spinning at her crossroads. When prodded by the nosy as for her expectedly lucrative life path, she deflects the jabs with thick smoke, curvy mirrors and clever white fibbing. Seems innocent enough, but Danielle is anything but innocent. Well, in the traditional sense. And cracking tradition is what "Shiva Baby" is all about.
Her "babysitting" gig is actually some ambiguous sex work with Max, a sugar coated daddy. Her previous relationship, much to the eye-rolling chagrin of her fast explaining parents, was with Maya. There's a lot to unpack in Danielle's bursting suitcase.
As if rubbing sharp elbows with the stalking relatives wasn't enough, the shiva house welcomes Danielle's entire relationship world into a crazy jail of confinement. Wine is gulped, bagels are scarfed, eyebrows are raised, cross room glances burn. It is one simmering plot boiler. Glorious.
Funny, horrific and thought-provoking in equal does, "Shiva Baby" is the condensed drama nightmare most scatter to avoid.
Oy vey.
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THE FATHER
THE WATCH
john sekerka
Dementia. Spoiler, this may not end well, but that's not the point.
In Florian Zeller's "The Father", a one room play turned expertly into a gripping two hours of cinema, the blubbery heartbreak or the cheerleadery miracle usually reserved for this genre are absent. Instead we are tricked into inhabiting Anthony Hopkin's wandering mind. And it is an unsettling, frightful, place, where surroundings shift, names change, events may or may not happen, bluster resides, and paranoia reigns. Perspective is thrown out the window. Yet each vignette seems real enough to believe. The hopeful ones are easy to cling to. The harsh ones are shattering.
As his taxed daughter, her father's lone connection to a world that is slowly leaving him, Olivia Colman makes this a two actor tour de force. Her conflict, to live for herself or offer selfless support, is an anvil sized weight on both of their minds. Yet it is unclear which direction she favours, if in fact she favours any at all. Sprinkled with just enough amusing asides - the obsessive infatuation with and reliance on a watch for instance - there is enough levity for Hopkins to stretch like he's never stretched before. The two leads are fabulous on screen.
Just as the play starts to roll, it changes gears. The flat is different. The characters too. A promised plan is no longer on the table. What is this? Who are they? Where are we? What is reality? And who's reality is it? Infuriating, but cleverly diabolical, these curve balls are subtle enough not to jar, but they do build to a powerful crescendo. It is a bit of an accomplishment to deliver a series of deliberately confusing acts without losing the audience to frustration. Oh there is frustration, but that is part of the experience. This is not an easy view, but a worthwhile one.
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MINARI
FARMING ARIZONA
john sekerka
After a California swing, a young Korean family in search of the American dream tries a restart in Arizona. In a green, grassy expanse. In a clunky mobile home. In the middle of nowhere.
The locals are devout Bible worshippers, and though culture clashes foreshadow mayhem, "Minari" steers away from any such predictable plot lines and smartly focuses on the husband and wife dynamic. As quirky as the Korean family seem, it is the oddball Americans, gentle, friendly and naive, who seem out of place.
Years spent chicken sexing - looking at new hatched butts to discard the males - has Jacob yearning to live off the land. Smart, determined, driven, entrepreneurial and strong-headed, he sees opportunity whereas Monica sees hardship.
To help out, they send for grandmother Soonja. This is where the movie starts to cook. A seemingly old school traditionalist, grandma brings some of her baggage (filled with a giant bag of chili powder and anchovies), but also an unexpected eccentric zest for life. One minute she is pushing an ancient medicinal broth (cooked with goat horns she eagerly boasts) on David, the youngest, and the next she is loudly revelling in some cheesy wrestling action on the fuzzy tv.
Will Patton as a cross-bearing (literally, he drags a large cross on Sundays), speaking in tongues Christian hired hand who turns out to be a well, godsend, is absolutely sublime. In fact, all the performances are great, highlighted by Jacob's and Monica's dynamic survival dance.
The steady build up of conflict, escalated by a run of bad luck and perhaps, poor decisions, comes to an inevitable and fiery climax. Who's standing, with whom, and where, are all questions the audience is truly vested in.
"Minari" is sweet, tough, funny, frustrating, and one of the better films out there.
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DEATH OF A LADIES MAN
YOU WANT IT DARKER
john sekerka
A recipe for a crackerjack film we have here. A charming Lothario who likes his women and drink in equal, superfluous doses, battles karma after a lifetime of misadventure. Gabriel Byrne stars, as he always does. Leonard Cohen tunes play, and that is swell. End of story. Well, not quite.
After getting a dose of his own philandering medicine, professor Samuel O'Shea bellies up to the bar and is soon joined by a parade of hallucinations. Talking ones. Several surreal monstrosities, and then, his long deceased dad, whom he spends most of the film chatting with. It is a clever ploy, the old man getting advice form his very late old man, who is actually a younger version than his son. Ghosts have it pretty good it seems. Without spoiling all of life's important questions, the apparition exists as more of a sounding board for a man in search of himself.
Life, death, mortality, love, relationships, family, reality, a hockey ballet, Frankenstein's monster, it's all here. Shame that it never gets up to full speed after such a wonderful start. Even the escapades that follow, which include a trek from Montreal to lovely Ireland, a spark of fresh romance, and jealousy gunplay, seem rather bland. For so much happening on paper, it is a shame that the screen version doesn't wield more kapow! adventure, either comically, dramatically, or preferably, both. Instead of a classic dramedy, we get a bit of a, um, coma.
Not bad, but oh, what could have been.
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THE MAURITANIAN
GITMO BLUES
john sekerka
A criminal saga tackling post nine-eleven Guantanamo Bay, starring Jodi Foster means golden awards time. But wait, there's more.
Based on Mohamedou Ould Salahi's best selling "Guantanamo Diary", "The Mauritanian" comes with a predetermined spoiler concerning the prisoner in question, that thankfully, doesn't take away from the drama. Salahi survived to write the tale, but hoo-boy, what a tale. Rounding up suspects for quick and dirty revenge, the Bush, well, Rumsfeld government established a lawless concentration camp in Cuba of all places, where suspects, usual and unusual, would conveniently disappear. Inexplicably, it exists to this day. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time with the wrong people resulted in a one way ticket to Gitmo. That was Salahi's fate.
"The Mauritanian" presents the story in just the right amount of hazy smoke and curvy mirrors, to create a thickly grey area of suspicion and guilt that hints at the sketchy character's association with terrorist organizations.
As a dignified, secretive, even jovial Salahi, Tahar Rahim carries the film, divulging bits of a muddy past as crucial pieces to an expansive puzzle. A complex figure at the centre of a fuzzy web of intrigue. His righteous, by the book lawyer Nancy Hollander, played straight up proper by Jodi Foster, a studious and persistent stickler for the law, methodically unravels layers of the story without succumbing to favouritism. Dark lipstick, white hair and a steely resolve, she's all business. The military prosecutor with a sympathetic southern drawl, an admirable Benedict Cumberbatch unfortunately proves a distraction to those familiar with his mother accent.
Never mind, Foster is swell, and Rahim absolutely kills it. This plays out like real life, so insufferably frustrating, red tape plodding at times, and without the usual bombastic court room explosions Hollywood favours. Even the climax suffers a bit of a post resolution stumble, which actually dots the i and crosses the t in the excruciating story. International chess ain't cut and dry, and neither is this film.
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FALLING
FLAT
john sekerka
As a cantankerous old codger spitting and vinegaring outrage whilst wrestling dementia, Lance Henriksen is an incendiary tour de force. Award ready material, this. Turns out the crusty old coot has been cantankerously codgering all his despicable life. The illness may have lifted a filter, but it seems the nasty was there all along. There are absolutely no redeeming qualities to hang on to here, just that he lived a life, and others were involved. Harumph.
Sadly the victims of this patriarchal rage are all one dimensional, turning this into a black and white, him vs. them, wrong vs. right, lesson watch that is spelled out early on, and repeatedly hammered home for the duration.
Viggo Mortensen's directorial debut does reach for the moon, introducing heady topics, some juicy characters, and much hope for a moving movie. As the much berated son of an old fashioned gun-toting 'merican, Viggo writes himself into a homosexual relationship with a tattooed Asian nurse. Wow. Let the fireworks begin! Sadly, they do not. Just a one way vile spew from the old man, with nothing but sad, all-knowing, head-shaking looks from the other side. The surrounding, extended family seem perfect, totally supportive of each other, and doing their goldarned best of the situation. They don't seem to have any problems or issues of their own. Everything and everyone in this movie exists solely as a reaction to the old man. And worst of all, they are boring. How can this be? It looks good. The performances are fine. The story has plenty of opportunity to get rolling. But apart from one spark of a fiery scene that quickly fizzles, it just sits there, stuck in neutral.
There's character study, and then there's missed opportunity. Viggo is a smart dude, and he's sure to figure this director-writer thing out. Till next time.
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FREAKY
KILLER SWAP
john sekerka
The original title "Freaky Friday the 13th" is a big fat spoiler, but with a movie that mashes up two classic teen box office gold genres, the kid-adult body switch, and the mindless slasher, there is very little to the mystery nor the imagination. Still, an audience for this kind of horror comedy does indeed exist.
What happens when a shy, outcast, bullied high schooler switches bodies with a hulking, brutish serial killing butcher? Hilarity of course. Plus some deaths. Well, lots of deaths. But it's okay, because tennis rackets, wine bottles, hooks, circular saws and cryogenic freezers are used. Cool! Also there's Vince Vaughn suddenly inhabiting a girl. Awkward!
Actually, "Freaky" isn't as awful as its promise, nor its premise. Sure the characters are one dimensional, even the two-dimensional ones, but this is not a thespian experiment. "Freaky" goes about it's colourful business in a bouncy, well trimmed manner, dispensing of boorish characters in quick fashion whilst pausing long enough for a couple of well placed quips. "You're black, I'm gay, we are so dead!"
Don't think too much (as if that is a problem) and you'll be just fine.
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SAINT MAUD
THEN THERE'S MAUD
john sekerka
The ominous cello groan gives it away. This is a horror movie, but as any film wading those dark waters worth it's sea salt, it swims in mystery and suspense before cracking the whip. Foreboding is an understatement.
Directed with scissor sharp precision by Rose Glass, "Saint Maud" is a moody svelte film of shadows and despair, bereft of any lulls or excess fat. A bit of an achievement since it doesn't rely on sensationalism or action to drive the storyline.
As a mousey caregiver with a cult-eyed Roman Catholic bent and a mysterious past, Morfydd Clark is sensational in the complicated lead. Someone seeking salvation by offering salvation, Maud gives all of herself to a cranky patient who suffers nobody's fool. Their's develops into a congenial, professional relationship based on the old opposites attract adage, finding each other prickly yet fascinating, bringing a freshness into their otherwise deadly dull lives. Of course, this isn't a classic buddy buddy flick and matters do turn (more cello).
"Saint Maud" is a slow burner carefully stoked for an explosive ending that is equal parts shocking, confusing and satisfying. Sure to stir plenty of debate. So, a resounding success.
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OUR FRIEND
THREE'S COMPANY
john sekerka
Cancer movies, generally, are not great. Whether melodramatic sappy heart string pullers, or misguided heroic tales raining crocodile tears, terminal disease films tend to lean on the empathy crutch in lieu of plot. Not "Our Friend".
This is Jason Segel's movie, from start to finish, and he's the healthy one. Well, physically healthy, mentally he has some issues. Issues which he eagerly puts on the backburner when his couple friends are stricken with malady. Dropping everything, which he deemed to be nothing, to move in and provide much needed care and support is a move as much about his selflessness as it is about his selfishness. Suddenly he has purpose, a family and self worth. A seemingly no brainer of a good deal, which of course, becomes riddled with very trying times.
Segel was born for this role, as he's been perfecting his honest, giving, funny, chummy persona throughout - let's be honest - a middling acting career. All that may change.
Casey Affleck and Dakota Johnson co-star, forming a tight knit triangle with Segel that is pulled and stretched and tested past most folks' breaking point. And as powerful as that dynamic is, it is Segel as the complicated yet simple Dane, that steals the show. We know what happens in this blunt and forthright medical tale, but the mystery of whether Dane can save himself proves to be the clever curveball thrown.
A good one.
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ANOTHER ROUND
BOTTOM'S UP
john sekerka
Bored? Stuck? Middle-aged? Why not try the greatest elixir guaranteed to open up the mind, free up the tongue, and see the world in a cheerier light? Well you sir, and you madam are in luck, for this anti-inhibitor miracle which comes in a dazzling array of colours and tastes, is readily available and could well be right under your very noses. That's right, booze!
Four cranky high school teachers, grinding the second gear of life with no foreseeable excitement ahead, decide to liven up their days with the magic of alcohol under a seemingly scientific experiment excuse.
The theorem:
the human body's alcohol level is a tad low, and requires some topping up to run at optimum efficiency.
The experiment:
the subjects drink steadily throughout the working day in an anti-sobriety test, and carefully monitor the results in a very clinical manner, using a computer!
The result:
well, that would be telling, but chances are most astute viewers will connect the plot dots without much effort.
The conclusion:
what sounds like a half-baked script for a slapdash comedy aimed at the immature set, turns out to be quite the serious and thought-provoking film. Also: Mads Mikkelsen stars, which is always welcome.
Alcohol over indulgence is a major issue in dark Denmark, and as such this film will pierce many a Scandinavian home with a personal arrow. For those abroad "Another Round" will be less of a cautionary tale, and more of a buddy-buddy-buddy-buddy story of supposedly grown men wrestling with their maturity and various mid-life crises. It is not all about the drink, but why they drink. Using harried, jaded, aging teachers in charge of jubilant youth about to kickstart their glorious lives, is an intoxicating stroke of genius.
Did I mention that Mads Mikkelson stars?
Excellent.
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PERCY
CANOLA WARS
john sekerka
When steely-eyed, shock-cropped Christopher Walken pumps his shotgun at the menacing bad guys, you know he means business. And that business, is a long, drawn out battle debating the legality of farming certain seeds. You may now sit back down.
In typical Canadian prairie fashion, "Percy" is more about wide landscapes, small community life, and a farmer's dedicated connection to the land, than inflammatory court room drama. Based on the true story of Saskatchewan Percy Schmeiser who wound up with Monsanto seed seeding itself on his land and then having the conglomerate giant bullying him into ruinous payment. Unyielding and stoic to a bankrupting fault, and against all sensible advice, Percy takes the case all the way to the Supreme Court.
As a juicy David vs Goliath fable, "Percy" moves at a snail's pace, generating it's lure through the perseverance and dogged determination of a man not necessarily pushing back, but standing defiantly in the way. As usual Walken is quite good, even in a calm, reserved role, one that doesn't require any shouting, gun play, or dancing. Who woulda thunk it?
A nice historic piece, "Percy" is not for everyone. But those happy to settle for an old school story that presents a cloudy subject in clear black and white, peppered with classic Canuck manners and pacing, will not be sorry.
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I PROPOSE WE NEVER SEE EACH
OTHER AGAIN AFTER TONIGHT
SPEED DATE
john sekerka
Introduced by a lovely premise - a lone, solitary, never to be revisited date where secrets are bared with no consequences - this low key RomCom in wintery Winnipeg is an odd long shot for movie stardom, but twinkles it does.
An odd couple meet over pushing a stranger's car out of a snow bank. How Canadian! As they meander away from their good deed, Iris asks Simon out for a drink on the premise, well, the title. A wonderful exchange follows where guards are down, and frank confessions flow, a rarity in most relationships, let alone a first meeting. What happens next may be easy to Sherlock, but that doesn't take away from the fun.
The partner dance at the kindling of romance never gets old, and there's plenty of dramedy to fill the plot pot. A proper balance of giddiness, apprehension and fear, is struck by the leads, as they slowly reveal their full selves after such an auspiciously curt beginning. Good chemistry too. Hera Nalam as the spunky yet suffering daughter in a traditional Filipino family is quite excellent.
Perhaps too authentic to succeed outside of Canuck film nerd circles, "I Propose We Never See Each Other Again After Tonight" strikes enough minor chords to warm your cold cold heart.
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SOUND OF METAL
EAR DRUM
john sekerka
The nightmare of any musician, particularly a drummer, keeper of beat, keeper of time, is hearing loss. That is Ruben's dilemma. After a boisterous, mid-tour set, one half of a power duo starts to experience aural malfunction. Uh-oh.
In typical human nature denial, Ruben carries on, but is soon forced to make tough decisions. Scrambling desperately to get back on course, and continue his career, Ruben is eager to gamble on an expensive operation, while his vocalist girlfriend steers him to a recovery community, focusing on adaptation over cure.
Reuben's journey, careening between hope, desperation, struggle and revelation, is a fascinating one, amplified by the extraordinary presentation from director Darius Marder. Putting the audience in Reuben's ears, the loss experience through muffled passages, jarring distortions, and worst of all, total silence, is devastating. The eclectic sound design may be the star here. Closed captioned throughout so nothing is missed, the sub-titles, usually a distraction, become a fluid part of the viewing experience.
As a simple, uncomplicated young man jolted by a life altering shock, Riz Ahmed is terrific in a subtle yet demanding role. He absolutely rocks as a kickass drummer, a reluctant deaf student, and an empathetic partner willing to go any distance to make things right. The buzz about this film is not just in Ruben's ears.
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BLACK BEAR
CABIN FEVER
john sekerka
Yes there's a bear, or is there?
Be prepared to be unprepared for what's actually going on here. In a good way of course.
Aubrey Plaza is involved, so chances are sailing won't be smooth. In her gloriously snarky best, Plaza is Allison, a blocked writer finds her retreat in a picturesque cottage on a lake run by struggling dancer-musician couple but hopeful B'n'Bers Gabe and Blair. Blair is pregnant. Gabe's eyes wander. Trouble brews. Fun, banter, flirtation and arguments develop quickly in razor sharp dialogue jabs. Alcohol is poured, and it is drunk. Lips loosen and away we go. Our trio of frustrated artists releasing tensions over high brow arguments in beautiful tension. Day one doesn't just end, it just explodes in a heart racing climax.
Part two. The twist. Yes there's a twist, but a clever one, in that it kinda twists back on to itself. The barking, manipulative, seductive triangle remains, but writer-director Lawrence Michael Levine turns the table to revisit the first act from a different lens. That reveal is left to the viewer. You.
What is reality, or whose reality it is, might not be the point of "Black Bear". Going along for the ride, and the actual film experience may be. And it is pretty impressive, especially Plaza, who stretches her chops to become something of a screen force. "Black Bear" is a witty, banter-filled psychological drama peppered with snide humour and, uh, a black bear. Maybe.
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smallSTREAM: QUEEN'S GAMBIT
CHESS MATE
john sekerka
Queen's gambit: a well trodden opening where a pawn is dangled for sacrifice in order to gain territorial advantage. Yes, yes, chess nerd speak, but it is so much more. As Netflix's most recent addiction, "Queen's Gambit" is one of the most clever offerings on the small screen.
Pills, drink, gender, race and yes, chess, "Queen's Gambit" is a perfect time capsule of the smoking sixties through the piercing eyes of board warrior Beth Harmon. A pretty remarkable Anya Taylor-Joy depicts our underdog heroine from teen to young adult, discovering a way through bumpy life with the help of various addictive substances, culminating in a grand master duel of self discovery. Chess nerds salute!
The attention to sixties detail here is interior design orgasmic. Pukey patterned wall papery, sitting room velvet drapery, woodsy high school bleachery, mom and pop store signery. Besides offering up a terrific story surrounding the seemingly unsexy game of chess, "Queen's Gambit"s meticulous and eye-popping design is a stunning marvel, and expertly sets the scene.
The attention to detail, right down to replicating famous matches throughout the ages, is astounding, but not overwhelming. A fine line often crossed in film. The result is an enthralling short series that relies more on quality control than quirky u-turns (the bane of most attention seeking projects). In that sense, it is very old school, by sending us back to that very school, that very time, that special place.
An eye-candy popping, stylish, perfect seven little episodes makes this a licketty split binge, a well formed movie in several acts if you will. And you will.
And the unsexy chess? Turns out it's pretty damn sexy. 'Tis no coincidence that sales of chess games have exploded. Back to your boards everyone.
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PSYCHOMAGIC: AN ART TO HEAL
ABRACADAMN
john sekerka
Alejandro Jodorowsky!
Not only is the man for all seasons (and then some) still alive, but he's making movies to boot. The filmmaking auteur of one the most divisive pieces of cinematic celluloid is back. 1970's bizarre "El Topo" - is it high art, a masterpiece, self-indulgent pap, overwrought, boring, or just plain silly? - is his calling card, and yet at 91, the eccentric Chilean continues to push the envelope. Might be time to push back.
Not that "Psychomagic" is bad cinema. In it's own quirky way, it has a unique charm: much like those early morning infomercials with wacky characters in stretchy pant suits, peddling variations of snake oil. Clad in various shades of purple, Jodorowsky documents his miraculous miracles, turning sad people into happy souls. Sounds good, no? Trouble is, it often involves body paint, vigorous massage, some groping, public performance, and awkward (except for Europeans) nudity. Comparing his technique to Freud's Psychoanalysis, but using the body instead of the mind, Jodorowsky offers odd solutions to common problems. A man feels unwanted by his family. Well hows about we place their photos on some pumpkins, smash the hell out of 'em, and send the bits to the family? Problem, uh, solved? The gleeful smasher thinks so.
The subjects being filmed get great results, but with a camera in their faces, ya have to wonder how truthful all of this really is. There is a bit of shamanistic spirituality going on here, and hey, if it works, what harm is there? The glean of his ultra white dentured smile is truly hypnotic. Yet there is one unsettling bit involving a woman battling cancer. A theatre full of believers channel feel good energy through their hands. Dealing with depression through some quirky, hands on performance art is one thing, but claiming cancer cure in an evangelical setting is another.
Maybe this broken world is all the better for visionary kooks like Jodorowsky, as long as he sticks to innocuous solutions. His giddy infatuation and hands on, zest for life is certainly undeniable. Voyeurs and curio seekers may enjoy this documentary. Or not.
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THE LAST VERMEER
FAKE NEWS
john sekerka
The man who sold Reichsmarschall Hermann Goring a Vermeer forgery! Or did he?
The complicated, cloaked and outlandish life of Dutch art trickster Han van Meegeren is a delicious tale on many levels. Riding the campy yet devilish performance by a wispy moustachioed Guy Pearce, the film version of the World War II caper is old school, intrigue laden moviemaking.
An underachieving artist who favoured the Renaissance Masters over the booming contemporary art world, van Meegeren hit pay dirt with his impeccable replicates of days gone by, parlaying his unique gift into a vast fortune, and accompanying ostentatious lifestyle.
"The Last Vermeer" focuses on the aftermath of the war, when van Meegeren is charged with abetting the enemy. As the death penalty looms, the only way out is to prove his forgeries are just that, and thus settling for a lesser crime. Cleverly, the absolute truth is veiled throughout, as Pearce prances around the authorities, sprinkling clues as he deems fit. He absolutely owns the screen, which jolts the movie, but sinks the supporting cast. Claes Bang as the determined soldier investigator in charge of the case, is an absolute walking, talking log. His marriage interactions so painfully drab, it is a wonder the editor saw fit for their inclusion. The others don't fare much better.
Perhaps the mundane, business like proceedings by everyone but Pearce, were true to the times, and a stab at authenticity, but they manage to create a frustrating dichotomy in the viewing experience.
Still, the story's a cracker, and Pearce brilliantly on top of his game. Worth it for history hounds.
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THE CLIMB
BROTRIP
john sekerka
Biking through the French countryside, Mike waits for a gruelling climb to offhandedly mention his affair with Kyle's wife to be. Struggling to keep pace, a stunned Kyle is furious and winds up running up the hill to confront his soon to be ex-best man. Soon they are in hospital, where things spiral further out of control. This orchestrated moment of comedic tragedy defines their lifelong relationship, and a rather enjoyable film.
Co-stars and co-writers Kyle Marvin and Michael Covino (who also directs), pull off their push pull brotherly love-hate relationship effortlessly enough to raise suspicion these may not be fictional events. As the obvious heel in the picture, Mike revisits his childhood buddy from time to time, wreaks havoc to whatever situation he insists himself in, tries to make misguided amends, then disappears until his next untimely resurrection. A hard character to love, an easy one to punch, Mike does sprinkle a few redeeming qualities to always leave a crack in the door. Everyone knows someone like this, or knew. The human nature of second chances is put to the test: who opens that crack, and who slams it shut?
Ambitiously shot in several long take chapters, "The Climb" has a down to earth, visceral quality which makes entry into the complicated and inviting Kyle and Mike dynamic an easy one.
"The Climb" is just that, the hill of life everyone struggles with, and sometimes, no matter how potentially destructive, friendship is all anyone craves. A fetching soundtrack doesn't hurt.
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BORAT SUBSEQUENT MOVIEFILM:
DELIVERY OF PRODIGIOUS BRIBE TO AMERICAN REGIME FOR MAKE BENEFIT ONCE GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN
CAGEY DAUGHTER
john sekerka
Fourteen years on, the return of Borat seems a bit odd if not redundant. What could possibly be left on the U.S. Barbie to skewer after four years of this mind numbing, reality altering, apocalyptic shit show? Flush.
And yet here he is, and here we are. Never underestimate Sacha Baron Cohen. Too recognizable to punk, Borat slips into absurd disguises to go about his sneaky business, and it is deviously glorious. Easy pickings, true, the far right remains a gullible, silly, scary and incomprehensible lot, but we, the converted being preached to, know all that. Fox News exists damn it! Much like an engrossing nature program revealing odd secrets of an exotic species, "Borat Subsequent Moviefilm" is an eye popping, enlightening, voyeuristic peep show, without the David Attenborough narrative.
The greatest subversion Borat achieves is not the fish in the barrel Republican dupes, but the full freaking' frontal assault on outdated gender values revealed through his cagey daughter's adventures. The thrilling dread of the Fertility Dance at a debutante ball is cringeworthy gold and the look away, can't look, gotta look, centrepiece of the film. You know what is coming. You will be scared. You will hide your eyes. You will groan. You will gasp. You will laugh. You will shudder. It will be seared into movie memory.
Much like the original, the sequel dives into waters few dare wade, amassing a series of skit style episodes exposing a bizarre American underbelly, scary and funny in equal overdoses. What this film adds to the table is an actual story line: a sweet relationship of discovery between a father and his female born son, and most importantly, her spirited dismantling of rigid patriarchal values. Maria Bakalova as Tutar steals the show, in a startlingly realistic, brave and earnest portrayal beside the clownish Borat.
So a movie that puts women in cages is actually a feminist manifesto? Um, yup. Also, capturing Rudy Giuliani fiddling with his junk is a Hollywood Oscar moment of grand infamy.
Excite!
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MEMORIES OF MURDER
SERIAL BONG
john sekerka
After "Parasite" mania, it was inevitable that Bong Joon-ho's past film catalogue would trickle across the ocean. Enter "Memories of Murder", the classic 2003 serial murder mystery, which in spite of being a second feature, rivals Bong's best work, and though compared favourably to David Fincher's excellent "Zodiac", this cracker actually came four years prior.
Based on real life events that gripped South Korea back in the late eighties, this riveting thriller delivers Bong's clever filmmaking touches, mixing pull no punches drama with deft comedic bits to create a rich viewing experience. Whether the small village cops slapsticking and bungling a gruesome crime scene, or brutally extorting confessions from the innocent, they do so in a flowing, organic rhythm of tone shifts that is key to the movie going experience.
"Parasite" star Song Kang-ho is excellent as the rowdy, cocksure detective who claims to reveal criminals by looking deep into their eyes. He is the perfect blend of boisterous, naive, silly, gung ho and empathetic. As with most Bong projects, such sublime character development is oh so crucial to the plot.
The less said about the storyline the better (and the real story has some interesting recent revelations). Best left to discover that on your own. Defying the "early effort" tagline, "Memories of Murder" is a fully developed, beautifully shot, perfectly paced, and gripping film, from start to finish. A shadowy thinker, it ranks right up there with "Parasite", tackling political, personal and societal themes in the guise of a simple story, in what is now a considerable Bong cannon, and is a much welcome discovery.
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TOTALLY UNDER CONTROL
TWITTER DUMB
john sekerka
Remember Dr. Nancy Messonnier? Exactly. But there she was, the face of the CDC, warning of pandemic and closures necessary to contain it, back in February. FEBRUARY!
Messonnier was swiftly swept under the Trump carpet where all science based experts reside. It is a big carpet, with a growing bump. Huge bump. That is the sad crux of this documentary, a thorough, blow by blow spine-chilling COVID-19 dateline, and the shocking ineptitude and dangerous apathy from the Trump government (if you can call it that) in response. Not much new here for anyone keeping up with the news, fake or not, but when presented in a calm, simmering sequence, plays out like a bloody horror movie. Which, let's face it, it is.
"Totally Under Control" is an impressive cinematic achievement, stretched out like a real time news program, brimming with startlingly blunt interviews, thorough investigations, slick editing, and stunning clips. The parade of despondent experts daunting. The series of unfortunate events mind-boggling.
Just to rub salt deeper into the festering wound, an alternate reality, the successful South Korean response to the virus is not just eluded to, but is presented in all it's meticulous glory. A cold hard slap to the face of American foolishness. Ouch.
A series of bungles, lies, incompetencies, and cover ups, lead to a catastrophe most are still trying to properly comprehend. This is an utterly infuriating watch. A strong drink might help.
The dictatorial and abusive power wielded by the president is at the rotten core of this calamity, and filmmaker Alex Gibney eagerly lets The Don indict himself throughout. Repeatedly. Important agencies bow to his whims, try to massage (in vain) disasters, and for the most part, dare not contradict or question Trump for fear of reprisal. Those who do, are quickly dispatched. Fact or fiction? The lines are blurry.
Will a devastating pandemic that threatens to hurl America into full blown depression finally sway the Kool Aid drinkers, or is this the end of the greatest country in the world? We are about to find out. This important film is ample warning, and a primo election primer.
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VALLEY OF THE GODS
ROCK CONCEPTION
john sekerka
Sex with a rock. Not sex with The Rock, just A rock. A Navajo native awkwardly makes love to a mountain top, in what may symbolizes a connection with the land? Guessing is the number one activity in this absolutely bizarre sensual feast of a movie.
Owning a Terrence Malik Stanley Kubrik David Lynch surrealistic bent, complete with stunning cinematography, a sweet soundtrack, dedicated yet stunted acting, and puzzling tangents, "Valley of the Gods" is deliciously perfect for mushroom season. It also features Keir Dullea (you know who you are).
All through his varied screen career, John Malkovich has always been best when bad, and here he gets to flex his wicked muscle. As the world's richest dude and eccentric oddball, he gets to play tennis inside his palatial manor on a marble floor, catapult a rolls royce off a cliff, and mummy wrap a bunch of dogs. Or is it deer? Some kinda animal. Whatever the case, Malkovich musta had hisself a helluva time shooting this thing.
There is some semblance of a plot that involves a struggling writer, the prospect of a uranium mine, sacred Native ground, and a wacky dude playing god, but it exists merely to pose way more questions than answers. Do stay for the jaw dropping ending though, which tries to wrap this crazy mess in some kind of circular fashion, if that is possible. It is not. But wow, what a heckuva swing!
Audacious to say the least, "Valley of the Gods" is an impressionistic head scratcher, and in the days of lazy cookie cutter flicks, that may not be such a bad thing.
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POSSESSOR
BUDGET OF BLOOD
john sekerka
Son of Franken .. er, Cronenberg!
With his daddy's penchant for shadowy sets and copious blood flow, combined with a thought-provoking dystopian premise, Brandon Cronenberg keeps it all in the film family.
"Possessor" tracks a mysterious operative that knocks off no good corporate bigwigs in a most ingenious manner of hostile takeover. With an icky insertion of a control chip in the back of the head, an innocent can be controlled remotely by another, resulting in the perfect, untraceable, suicidal assassin.
The possession is tricky though, not a complete one way transferral (the technology of course, isn't foolproof) and there is some glitchy twitches as body and mind vie for control. Interesting stuff. The host and possessor switcheroo gets saucy when female Tasya (Andrea Riseborough) inhabits male Colin, (Christopher Abbott) and tries to pull off all relationship nuances leading up to the job. Brings the "who are you?" relationship question to a new level, not to mention the artificial intelligence doom angle all SciFi flicks adhere to.
But let's not forget that this is a Cronenberg film, and that means in spite of the cerebral lure, the squeamish need to stay the hell away. There is a bloody body count, and it is always a messy, slow and squishy affair. Artistic in a morbid manner if you will.
Like father, like son: a dead ringer.
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THE NEST
DECEPTION
john sekerka
Hoo boy, let the discussions flow.
It is rather lovely to soak in a well made piece of cinema that will no doubt elicit a bevy of experiences depending on the audience. "The Nest" has a basic mid-life family implosion crisis plot at it's core, but just how rotten is it?
Jude Law (Rory) is a slick talking investment advisor, living a comfortable New York life, with a pretty horse-training wife, and requisite two children. Yet he yearns for more. Soon the quartet are off to his England, to live in an isolated ancient mansion filled with too many rooms, a table so big it cannot leave the premises, and secret doors. Sounds like a horror movie, and in a sense, it is. Just not of the supernatural variety.
Law owns the screen as the flashy business stud, pushing all his chips into the middle of the table, dragging his reluctant dependents along for the ride. Carrie Coon (Allison) is his American match, willingly embracing her husband and his white lies until breaking point, then unleashing a vindictive, cruel yet understandable side in their escalating partnership.
Is this a family drama? An allegory for greed? A warning? A husband and wife coming to relationship climax?
A riveting turning point, actually one of many, has Allison beaming beside her man at a posh dinner party, as the boss welcomes him back to the English fold, revealing a devastating lie. Her smile doesn't break, but it is clear that there is trouble a foot. Much trouble. The husband and wife dance continues, but as finances spiral out of control, the tight solitary quartet starts to crack.
Every act is punctuated by a primo British new wave nugget from the likes of the Cure or Psychedelic Furs as a reminder we are in the eighties. It is a rather odd reminder, as the movie really doesn't depend on an era, other than referencing the greediness of the Reagan and Thatcher right uprising. It does elicit a weird alarm bell of nostalgia for anyone of that age, and perhaps was a bit of directorial self-indulgence. Not unwelcome mind you.
How and not why this plays out is the strength of this film. Blame is easy to hurl, but sometimes life is the problem.
A moody a piece of cinema, both visually and thematically, "The Nest" is a film that leaves an odd, bitter aftertaste, long after the main course is digested. A burner.
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THE REST OF US
WOMAN UP
john sekerka
A lovely small movie dealing with big life decisions.
The passing of a cheating, dead beat husband (cleverly absent on screen), leaves a pair of mother daughter teams struggling to cope with the aftermath. Unfortunate circumstances lead to an uncomfortable union of two reluctant female families joined at a virtual hip, sifting through various emotional messes. Thankfully "The Rest of Us" is no schmaltzy feel gooder, preferring to plot a realistic storyline in a most complicated situation.
In a career performance, Heather Graham is great as a well to do author, taking in her suddenly struggling successor, disrupting a seemingly utopian oasis. The awkward tension between former wives is balanced by their uppity pre and full teen daughters, who deal with the tragedy from very different angles, and very different ages.
As the unsympathetic mistress turned second wife, Jodi Balfour tackles a difficult role with a careful balance of devastation, guilt and determination. The seedy details of what went down is sketched over, and rightfully so. This movie is all about the present, and who exactly these people really are. It all rides on character discovery.
Filmed economically in a handful of small, closed locations, focussing solely on the four leads, "The Rest of Us" is a quick eighty minutes of exceptional cinema that offers much to think about. Superb.
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DAVE NOT COMING BACK
TENACIOUS D
john sekerka
Spoiler alert: don't read the title.
The life of scuba divers in search of depth seems more like a death wish. So why the hell tempt fate for what appears to be very little reward? That question is never really answered, yet we are introduced to several characters who unflinchingly espouse their devotion and unwavering dedication to the activity.
Boesmansgat is a deepwater submerged fresh water cave that punctures the South African Kalahari Desert. It is the monster's mouth that invites intrepid divers to test their mettle. It is where records are set. It is where people die. In 1994 twenty year old Deon Dryer perished there. A decade later Dave Shaw discovered the body at 270m. Shortly after, he enlisted friend and fellow diver Don Shirley for a recovery mission. This is the story of Deon, Dave and Don. You can't write this stuff.
As documentaries go, revealing a large part of the mystery from the get go is unusual practice, but here it works. Splicing original footage of the recovery dive, with re-enactments, director John Malak avoids the creepy sensationalism television favours, unfolding the story in a tense, beautiful and technical manner befitting the subject matter. The intricate preparation, endless logistical details and a spider web of planning is extraordinary, but when things go wrong, it is the in situ reaction of the team that ramps up the drama.
Diving down is easy, coming back up is not. Same with this movie.
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ODD MAN RUSH
WRIST SHOT
john sekerka
Let's face it, hockey movies are solely for die hard fans of the sport. As much love as "Slapshot" and "Goon" receive, that adoration comes from a niche audience, one that understands and loves the idea of lacing up knives, traversing super slippy ice, and brandishing dangerous weapons, all in the name of a game. If this has no appeal, please move along. For those adorned with heart shaped body scars, "Odd Man Rush" will replenish your hockey fiction thirst.
The life of a feisty player trying to parlay a route to the NHL in small town Sweden is pretty good shinny fodder. This one is based on true events, but sadly, especially for "Slapshot" fans, toned down from the rather racy book. Nonetheless we have a likeable lead in Jack Mulhern around which everything revolves, who passes the skate test, offers a charming romantic mug, and delivers a warm narrative during fourth wall breaks.
Pretty good action scenes and an oddball cast of sports misfits? Check. Best part of this film is the stoic Swedish coach who addresses our hero as fukkface. A close second is Elektra Kilbey as the love interest with a playful, smart-alecky edge. Nothing fancy here, just some laughs, some courting, some ice sparring - a typical hockey night in Canada.
A bit of a strange, curt, untidy ending, is either a sign of a mismanaged production, or a teaser for a sequel. We shall see.
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BROTHERHOOD
HALF MAST
john sekerka
Like a Heritage Minute expanded to ninety, "Brotherhood" just may be the quintessential Canadian film. It is a beautifully shot, carefully paced, charmingly acted, and expertly wardrobed, family fare period piece, right in the wheelhouse of the CBC and NFB. Which also means that it is a little dry, a little too sentimental, and a little too eager to please. But damn it, it is maple leaf red Canadian, and the locals will love it.
Capturing the simple but beautiful landscapes and times of a post First War Kawartha Lakes young men camping adventure, "Brotherhood" is a throwback not only as an historic piece, but also a nod to classic movie making. Strengths and flaws and backgrounds are onion peeled as the scrum navigate boys-to-men, life building skills, culminating in an ultimate weather and water survival test.
Trouble is brewing, that much is clear, as the film flashes forward and back from sunny beach to ominous dark currents. What could have been a groaning plot spoiler, serves as character development whilst navigating a dire circumstance.
Based on fact, "Brotherhood" is good enough to engage in a tragedy for which the ending is no mystery. A little sappy, and a little cliched, it nonetheless entertains, especially to a devout patriotic audience. Perfect for post Hockey Night in Canada, late Saturday viewing on the small screen.
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SEBERG
YE-YE
john sekerka
The star of "Breathless". J. Edgar Hoover's bullying FBI. The militant Black Panthers. Hoo-boy, has this movie got it goin' on!
Kristen Stewart takes another step towards Hollywood credibility, slipping into a pixie cut and some super chic yellow fashion, strutting in the heels of tabloid sensation Jean Seberg to some delicious Scott Walker crooning. Oh those swinging' sixties! Soon enough the gloss fades into the background as the spirited actress starts chumming around with what the feds deem the wrong crowd. And away we go.
Instead of focusing solely on Seberg, we get a parallel story line of an FBI agent caught in the escalating and illegal tactics favoured back then, charged with discrediting the actor, and in the process, ruining her life. The story is bat guano crazy, and sadly, true.
So much happens that it hardly fits into one little movie, and perhaps that is the problem here. Seberg's past, her family, her lovers, are given short shrift, at the expense of the FBI angle. Funny how the film keeps harping on the star status of its lead, but fails to discover her.
Great bit of history, and Stewart is impeccably cast, but "Seberg" deserves better.
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FIRST COW
COWPITALISM
john sekerka
The films of Kelly Reichardt are not for everyone, but for those who enjoy a steady, contemplative, poetic and flowering story that stops to smell everything small, she may be the one.
"First Cow" is a simple tale of early American settlers with big dreams, barely scraping by in a lush and promising, but inhospitable wilderness. Cookie Figowitz and King Lee form an odd couple of dreamers who get by on clever schemes and the milk of the lone piece of livestock in the area. Their struggles present the already existent class struggles that an early Capitalist system festers, and though politically intriguing, the core of the film is the buddy buddy relationship born out of necessity, and nurtured by an unspoken craving for companionship.
The pair realize that to make money, they need money, and their cash cow could be a launching pad to a grand and profitable future. Along the way they discover a common bond of humanity, which they don't learn to cherish properly until the final, fitting frame.
Eschewing grandiose adventure in favour of minute details, Reichardt's pace is deliberate and sure. The result is a gritty western without horses, saloon brawls or gunfights. One that feels pretty damn true to the time. Turns out the early settlers were dealing with a pretty mild mild west, which was pretty sweet and awfully harsh in alternating doses.
"First Cow" is perfectly bovine.
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RANDOM ACTS OF VIOLENCE
BOO
john sekerka
Oh what coulda been. But then again, final acts in the serial killer horror genre rarely deliver on any promises made. Most just get messy.
And yes, "Random Acts of Violence" gets messy. Not for the weak of heart, this slasher builds on the premise of a copy cat killer aping the debauchery of a gruesome comic book. The author (and friends) gets caught up in the mayhem, which poses the age old question of life imitating art, except there is another art thrown in to suggest a loop.
Best known for his comedic Hollywood turns, Jay Baruchel writes, directs and co-stars in what is obviously a labour of love pet project. From the flippant opening that creates an illusion of comfort, to the harsh transition to the horrific - don't go in there - gore sequences, the set up and execution is classic shock.
Instead of challenged teenagers doing stupid things, our group of victims (sorry) not only react accordingly, but also try and dissect the situation, and the consequences of their actions. But then, well, things go off the rails.
Baruchel is clearly a studious fan of the genre, but like many before him, gets carried away, and cannot properly wrap his story in a satisfying manner. Maybe next time.
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I USED TO GO HERE
BACK TO SCHOOL
john sekerka
Can a mid-life crisis sneak up on a 35 year old? Let's not be ageist about this matter, of course it can.
Gillian Jacobs translates her wonderfully sassy yet confused young woman character of "Love" (Netflix, worth the binge) into aspiring author Kate Jacobs, rebounding from a cancelled book tour to revisit her alma mater at the request of her old prof crush.
Mayhem ensues. Well, not really, but something better. Whilst her friends are back home with very pregnant bellies, single Kate anxiously jumps back into college, if only for a brief escapade. Enraptured by the youth and vitality of her previous life, Kate slips back into a comfy place, leaving her spiralling mess adult self behind.
Avoiding sliding into "Animal House" debauchery, "I Used To Go Here" tackles a series of comedic and romantic escapades in a fresh, believable manner. Kate's complicated relationship with her old mentor (a wonderfully nuanced turn by Jermaine Clement) is at the core of the film, isn't dwelled on but played out naturally, and revisited cleverly when the movie comes full circle.
All this rests on the lead's shoulders, and she manages to shoulder it quite well. Jacobs is that rare breed: a wide-eyed actor who is both endearing and relatable enough to carry the movie, which as it turns out, is pretty good.
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THE OLD GUARD
IMMORTUARY
john sekerka
Is this a good movie?
Nope, not really.
Stay with me please.
Yes, folks are tripping over themselves to smooch the feet of Charlize Theron, and though that would not be a dilemma if ever the opportunity arose, there is more, much more worthy viewings in this actor's cannon.
Yes, "The Old Guard" ticks off a lot of the inclusivity possibilities long ignored by Hollywood, but just past the feel good political correctness lurks a very mundane comic book action movie. And folks, those are really not cinema, just silly escapism fluff, the fast food of the big screen, and should be categorized as such. Just ask Martin Scorsese.
Yes, this film has plenty of kickass hand to hand fights to satiate that demographic, but when the heroes are immortal, is there really any suspense in the combat, and the inevitable story line?
Yes, there's a bit of kryptonite leaking into the picture to try and throw a wee bit of a curve into the plot, but c'mon, who are we kidding? This is an action hero movie.
Yes, everything here is perfectly staged, orchestrated, and manipulated to the Nth degree, but it feels one dimensional, just like a, er, comic book. Any attempts at empathy and character depth seem way out of place, and little more than place holders till the next battle scene roars to life.
Yes, some folks really, and I mean really like this sorta thing, and they will enjoy the ride. And some folks are a bit tired of easy bake movies, no matter how good the intention. Disappointing when a woke movie induces sleep.
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GUEST OF HONOUR
RABBIT EARS
john sekerka
Used to be rabbit ears pulled in tv channels, now they are a coveted culinary delicacy. If nothing else, one always learns something from an Atom Egoyan film.
Consistently fine thespian David Thewlis as a complicated health inspector, carries "Guest of Honour" with the calm assurance, refined decorum, and meticulous deduction of Sherlock Holmes. Yet it is he who is the mystery. And as wonderful a performance it is (he really does carry the movie), the convoluted and twisty plot proves too benign and lacking, to do justice to foreshadowed expectations.
A forgettable and perplexing storyline involving his jailed daughter is awkwardly distracting at best, and out and out messy at worst. Slipping in a comedic Wilson brother (Luke) as a serious priest is admirable, but alas, serves to sabotage the dramatic flow.
Too bad, as the movie does indeed look great, and Thewlis is excellent, a commanding screen presence, delivering a perfectly nuanced role lacking a worthy supporting cast, and more importantly, a superior written vehicle.
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AMERICAN WOMAN
ON THE LAM
john sekerka
1974, post flower power America was rocked by the confounding, headline hogging tale of billionaire daughter turned radical revolutionary Patty Hearst. Her Che Guevera pose in front of the Symbionese Liberation Flag, totally rocking a chic beret, army fatigues and machine gun, became the poster of choice for anti fascist revolutionaries. The evocative, is she or isn't she? Stockholm syndrome question death gripped an ogling Nation.
Great story, perfect movie fodder, except here it merely serves as a background of events for an equally complex character, that of Wendy Yoshimura, herself a committed (non-violent) revolutionary, Patty babysitter, and as it turns out a future water colour artist.
Sure sure, the names have been changed - to Jenny and Pauline, but this fictionalized herstory follows actual events quite closely. Focusing on a rational, dedicated and idealistic member of an inflammatory group speeding towards the flame, Jenny is as intriguing a character as the confused ex-debutante. A child of war internment camps, relegated to stereotypical servant duties that American Asians suffered through, an expert bomber, and regularly dismissed as gender inferior by chest-inflating men, Jenny is a stoic tower of strength and methodically fights through some crazy crap to get things done.
Shot in seventies California browns, and acted to pinpoint perfection by Hong Chau (Ellen Burstyn is also divine), "American Woman" captures the pulse (sometimes racing, sometimes not) of an exhilarating and convoluted time when everything seemed to be on the table, by glimpsing the frustrations, hardships, and drudgery, among the idealism clashes of off the grid non-citizens.
Less focused on gunplay and the sensationalized rebel life, "American Woman" deals with the inner conflicts of a diverse group on the verge of combustion, creating a quiet sense of tension in their daily, on the lam life. Viewers expecting bombast, cookie cutter action and punchy plot, will be disappointed. This is a nuance film. A slow burn. A thinker. A mood piece. And probably closer to the truth than most people would hope for.
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DA 5 BLOODS
BLOODY MESS
john sekerka
A sprawling, Vietnam Vet, gold hunt, family reconciliation, Black Lives Matter opus from Spike Lee? Careful what you wish for.
Never know with a Spike Lee Joint, and achingly, in spite of a series of great intentions, and moments of brilliance, "Da 5 Bloods" drags, confuses, and eventually crumbles. It has a rushed feeling, as if Spike wanted to strike quickly to make a film for the moment, and who can blame him? Perhaps he'll revisit, edit and tidy this Disjoint into the coherent classic that lurks beneath.
There are moments though.
Delroy Lindo in an anguished role of a misguided, bullying, suffering Vet, is absolutely superb in a hallucinatory, Shakespearean monologue as he crashes through the jungle. Spike GoPro's his head for a distorted, uncomfortably close selfie experience usually reserved for skateboarding YouTube clips. It is sensational.
Chadwick Boseman, as a fallen brother and de facto group leader, appears in flashbacks as a young, virile black Jesus figure, commanding the screen as much as his comrades in arms.
Lee's alternating use of aspect ratios to time travel is a clever move that allows the film to flow seamlessly, bringing his audience into and out of the moment in proper rhythm. Sadly, it is a bit lost on the tiny Netflix screens this is streamed on. "Da 5 Bloods" screams to belong on a gargantuan theatre screen.
Besides a sloppy and convoluted plot line concerning some loot looting, the greatest misstep is using aging actors in both present and flashback sequences. It just looks er, goofy. Unfortunately secondary acting is also weak, even from the usually fine Jean Reno. A father and daughter sideline is not just awkward, but again, impossible to digest because of a faulty time line. And on it goes. Is this an important movie? Maybe, it sure has a lot to say, but Spike has handled this much better in the past.
At a watch-checking two and a half hours, this would work oh so well as a lean ninety minute adventure. A director's cut in reverse if you will.
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BECKY
TEENAGE RIOT
john sekerka
Paul Blart: white supremacist villain. Kevin James sports a bushy Amish beard and a swastika head tattoo, matches life and death wits with a surly teenage girl, in a non-comedy. Yep, no funny here. Weird.
There's a tedious setup which involves some prison nastiness, and some father daughter nastiness. Different levels of nastiness, and that's what this film is all about. Soon we have a tense, crowded cottage invasion and more nastiness ensues. Never mind guns and knives, it's the coloured pencils and wooden rulers ya gotta watch out for.
After having her envelope pushed too far, Becky wreaks some heavy carnage. Lulu Wilson's popping performance dominates this battlespace. The transition from oh Dad fury, to full on revenge fury is something to witness. All this revolves around some mystery key the bad guys want, but this, as all initial plans at plot, quickly fade into the ether. "Becky" is all about Becky, an all powerful, smart, dangerous, wild thing set loose in the wilderness of her familiar habitat.
It's a one note flick, and that note is hammered long and hard. Which unfortunately destroys any tension, as the movie becomes a standard, by the numbers body count. A distracting Kevin James who tries awfully hard to (impossibly) step out of a lifelong typecast, comedic persona, doesn't help.
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DREAMLAND
SINGLE PEAK
john sekerka
Venerable Canuck director Bruce McDonald returns to the big screen with a busy, all you can watch cinema buffet of cult-aspiring dishes. Maybe as a series of small, TV sized bites, this could work, but it becomes quite a taxing muddle in one sitting.
The good: Stephen McHattie. His excellent turn helming McDonald's wonderfully crazed "Pontypool" is reason for high anticipation. Not surprisingly, McHattie shines in a dual role tour de force of endless, crackly Clint Eastwood close ups, and tough guy bad assery.
The bad: A dual role is seldom a good idea. It is a disruptive smoke and mirrors trick, and proves too clever and distracting for it's own good.
More bad: Juliette Lewis, who has the chops to be fabulously sensational, is fabulously awful, awkwardly embracing a despicable role in a volcanic spew of boorish overacting in an unsavoury role.
There's more. The list is long. We have a child sex ring. We have Henry Rollins raging. We have a silly vampire. We have a wedding. We have kid gangsters. We have a mess.
Brimming with taboo subjects, theatrical violence, absurd sequences, nightclub lighting, an endless stream of odd characters, "Dreamland" is a prickly stab at "Twin Peaks" cultdom. McHattie almost pulls it off, with a quirky performance for the ages that includes a bizarro Chet Baker impersonation. But it's not enough. Exactly what McDonald is trying to achieve here is anyone's guess. How about an insider's heroin trip? Let's go with that.
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streaming film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
THE PAINTER AND THE THIEF
AMUSING
john sekerka
When a struggling (is there any other kind?) visual artist has a chance to confront the thief of her precious paintings, she does so in a strange, friendly approach of curiosity. Soon the two are meeting cordially for tea and deep conversation. This film, so seemingly plot driven is actually a stark documentary. One of those crazy miracles where the filmmaker is in the right place at the right time, and an enthralling story develops before his lens. Benjamin Ree captures their tale in gorgeous shots, unfettered dialogue, and incredible stealthiness. Hard to believe that there wasn't any staging involved, as there is total absence of camera intrusions, or director presence.
"The Painter and the Thief" works on many levels, but it is the startling relationship that develops between artist and her new found muse that is the heart of this fire. Obviously upset at her loss, Barbora Kysilkova quickly moves her emotions to dig deep into the psyche of the troubled Karl-Bertil, offering branches of support and friendship. He returns the favour, but struggles to shed his bad boy lifestyle, and lapses. Whether Barbora is truly offering up a humanitarian hand, or using the danger boy as artistic inspiration, or both, are questions that loom throughout.
Each are enthralling characters, with wildly divergent career paths, that have become entangled like wild weeds of infatuation. Its an enlightening look at how humans interact with each other, who we choose to interact with, what we are looking for, and why do we look in the first place? Deep down inside: are we, or are we not, good?
How can this possibly end well? There's only one way to find out.
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streaming film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
TRIP TO GREECE
THE BICKERSONS
john sekerka
As our travelling pair of pompously verbose sparring partners wind down a curvy road, Steve Coogan tries repeatedly to dislodge Rob Bryden's insistent refrain of "Grease Is The Word" to no avail. Bryden defiantly carries on, bludgeoning the show tune with lip-smacking enunciations, to a bitter death. That the insufferable Coogan is at the receiving end makes the sour, sweet. Ah those Brits.
With the fourth (is it the fourth? who knows) instalment of the pair's chit-chatty travelogue series, you'd think the premise would get old. But precisely during these travel averse, barren restaurant, pandemic times, it not only feels fresh and novel, but also romantically nostalgic.
Of course the supposed premise of ingesting lavish scenery, serenading each other with historic tales, and devouring local cuisine is all fine and good, it is the witty back and forth bellicose banter between the two surly thespians one upping each other, that is the heart of these films. The digs are deep, the jabs are pointed. Forget the pen, the tongue is mightier than the sword.
Their self-skewering of the classless upper class is priceless in a faux reality that questions the faux. In true stiff upper lip, chip chip cheerio British bravado, there is a lurking charm and sentimentality beneath the sheen that only a true friendship could foster.
A nice farewell, sardonic as it may be, and a fitting end to the series.
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streaming film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
RED ROVER
ODD COUPLE
john sekerka
Lurking lonely in a self-imposed dungeon basement apartment, whilst his ex loudly explores her oiled and buff Aussie boy toy above, Damon is in desperate need of life altering salvation. It comes in short order with a space-suited pixie chick offering a chance at Mars colonization. The perfect escape for the dead end Earther.
In the truth is stranger than fiction twist, the seemingly far fetched space angle, actual project Mars One, is gathering terrestrials hoping to be extra, and though that wild proposition offers up an enticing film storyline, "Red Rover" is less about outer and more about self discovery.
When the awkward cherub nerd Damon's bottom feeder life is rocked by uninhibited spark plug Phoebe, he recoils, retreats, and reconsiders. His life. Is Mars the answer? Can he recapture his ex? Who is this new whirlwind? Adventure calls, but as always, inertia is an easy option. Red rover, red rover, will Damon come over? That is life's quandary.
Kristian Bruun and Cara Gee sparkle as the mismatched leads, crossing paths as they stumble towards unknown destinations. A silly, charming, endearing, and tasty little deli slice of cinema this, "Red Rover" pulls its roundhouse punches in favour of a series of well placed jabs. Not a knock out, but a bit of a tenacious tickler.
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streaming reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
BAND LADIES (highball.tv)
RUNAWAYS
john sekerka
When a drunken gathering at a pub takes over the open mike in a punchy explosion jam, a band is born. Cool. Instead of rebellious teens, this group is a murder of middle aged, disgruntled, book clubbing women. "We are 42!"
A phone video goes kinda viral, and the next thing you know, in true punk DIY spirit the ladies are gathering instruments, practicing their newfound craft, and exploring their midlife crises. Nice twist, and zooming in on the complexities of female crossroads is ripe for dramedy gold.
As refreshing as it sounds, "Band Ladies" moves way too fast and covers way too much ground in its inaugural run of six, ten minute episodes. Yes this is the age of quick edit, click baited, ADHDed interwebs, but those whipper snapper browsers won't be tuning in.
If season 2 properly flushes out the five superficial story lines, there maybe a dedicated age appropriate demographic willing to go along for the ride.
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streaming film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
SPACESHIP EARTH
SPACE FORCE!
john sekerka
Welcome to the fantastic future of 1991 as the human petri dish project BIOSPHERE 2 is underway! What looks like a kooky SciFi piece of last century fiction, turns out to be a bizarre true life experiment, sequestering idealistic science nerds in their self-sustaining eco bubble.
Rife with cult overtones and extraordinary characters, "Spaceship Earth" documents a group of giddy dreamers as they pave the way for future planet colonizations by creating their own pressure cooker mini earth. What could go wrong?
Well, much does indeed go wrong, but unfortunately, nothing of the sensational variety. There is no physical rebellion. There are no monsters spawned. There are no lives lost. Yet it is damn fascinating: the spectre of a tight army of red uniformed humans scurrying about their self made ant hill aquarium, whilst the world literally looked on.
There is a "Truman Show" aspect at play here, as organizer, impresario, Grand Poobah and owner of a wacky combover, John P. Allen (aka Johnny Dolphin) dictates the inner proceedings from an outside control room. That is, until there is a power struggle featuring, wait for it, Steve Bannon. Yep, you can't make this stuff up.
Strangely the BIOSPHERE 2 phenomena, which at the time was a world wide sensation that predicted genius nutbars like Elon Musk, is relatively forgotten.
That mistake has now been remedied. Enjoy.
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streaming film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
TAMMY'S ALWAYS DYING
LIGHT RAIL WRECK
john sekerka
Whoa, has Felicity Huffman ever let herself go!
With a mat of hair and raccoon mascara, Tammy boozes away her welfare check, then concludes her month binge with a wobbly climb to perch atop a precarious bridge, waiting for some form of salvation. Her daughter plays along with the routine, but this ain't no family love in.
Catherine has her own issues, and her crazy mother may or may not be the root cause. Irregardless, they coexist, sparring and pushing buttons as only direct kin can. The dynamic may be old hat, but it is balanced with a good balance of guilt, compassion, fury and a sneaky bite of dark comedy. Tammy's abusive train wreck act is hard to stomach, making Catherine's willingness to play the snappy Saint a bit puzzling. But there they are, stuck in their perfectly orchestrated ruts.
Huffman is particularly enjoyable as a totally despicable character, with just enough glimpses of joy and insight sprinkled amongst her destructive ways to offer some kind of hope. There's a human in there, somewhere.
"Tammy's Always Dying" is filmed under the omnipresent grey skies of former steel town Hamilton, a rubbly city oh so close to the flashy big time (Toronto) that cleverly mirrors its occupants. Life is hard, and even though there's something on the horizon, it may be unreachable. The second act plays with that rainbow goal dynamic, but muddies the pace, only to have it saved by film's end. The complicated mother daughter relationship is the heart of the movie, and its ultimate redemption.
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retro film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
HEARTS BEAT LOUD (2018 Netflix)
I AM YOUR FATHER
john sekerka
For a movie that has a lot on the platter, "Hearts Beat Loud" traverses what foreshadows to be rough waters with a calm, realistic paddle. It has the squeaky clean, educational discovery flavour of the "ABC Afterschool Specials" of TV past, without veering towards any convenient conclusions. The movie just plays out, which as it turns out, is part of its refreshing charm.
"Hearts" works best when focusing on the father-daughter dynamic which is the film's core, keying on Nick Offerman's perfectly understated role facing a personal crossroads struggle. Inserting veteran, recognizable faces Ted Danson and Blythe Danner proves distracting, as is the stilted Jeff Tweedy (Wilco) cameo. Confusing decisions for a film that aches to be small. Smartly, these are but brief interruptions and melt quickly into the background. This is a father film. Period.
As Frank, the judgemental owner of a struggling vinyl record shop, and a single parent to an itchy yet whip ass smart teen, Offerman brings a calm yet burning restraint when faced with major life decisions. His usual poker face satire stance from a wonderful comedic career, being replaced with a surprisingly dramatic nuanced one.
The movie lingers a tad too long on some pieces (warning: there is plenty of music, plus plenty of nerdy music references), and leaves much unresolved, but that just might be the point of delivering this sweet slice of casual life. Hearts actually beat soft.
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streaming film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
PLANET OF THE HUMANS (YouTube)
LIGHTS OUT
john sekerka
Remember when your parents revealed in very solemn terms, that there is no Santa Claus? Yeah.
With the MIchael Moore stamp of approval (as producer and streamer), "Planet of the Humans" is a Jeff Gibbs (his long time cohort) project that digs deeply and uncomfortably into a controversial topic that until now has been the target of the far right: renewable energy. Without the good natured stumbling and determined bravado of their previous efforts (the sneaky smart and endearingly goofy Moore), it is way too short on confrontational entertainment. Also, it offers absolutely no viable solutions to the problems it digs up. And oh boy, there are problems.
This by the numbers expose doc slowly reveals the exploding Green movement's grandiose false claims, fictional numbers, and a startling reliance on carbon spewing industries. Yikes! If this is true then we are all truly f**ked.
Germany's stature as a renewable nation is absolutely shattered with a pregnant pie chart showing a mere 4.6% of their energy needs being met by solar and wind. Ouch. Yet it begs the question, which pie chart is anyone to believe? The key here is that it is a total energy chart, not total electricity, big difference. Numbers are easily tweaked, rounded or plain out fudged, and several are bandied about without any substantiation. Outdated solar farms are paraded without mention of ongoing developments. Wind power is absolutely torched by anecdotal hearsay. There's no mention of Denmark receiving almost half of it's electrical needs from the breeze. Dissing electric cars because their energy source is dirty (in the one very specific case: coal), is disingenuous since there is a rapid growth of clean energy, and it can come from a wide variety of options. Quite sloppy this.
Irregardless of flying numbers, there are numerous awkward interviews catching eco warriors admitting to using coal, biomass, or natural gas to energize their so-called clean technologies. Bad news: there's no such thing as clean coal. More bad news: for most places, biomass is the burning of trees. Even more bad news: natural gas is more than just farts.
Destroying highfalutin rich braggarts like Richard Branson and Al Gore on their pretend ideals is good fun, but where does it leave the Green movement? Population control is mentioned, and it is an obvious and irrefutable solution (and possibly inevitable), but one that will only take place against human will. Clean alternatives like good old nuclear, hydro-electric, geothermal, tidal, and wave power, as well as various technological developments (ongoing advancements in efficient batteries and solar panels) are fluffed over or just not discussed. There is just a lot of doom and gloom. This unfortunately, is a lot of fodder for climate change deniers, who are, let's face it, more interested in the bottom financial line than what's around the bend. Their futures not their future. Like an oil slick on a duck, they will be all over this film. There is so much more to the presented stories, some of which are quite outdated in a rapidly moving technological age, it's a wonder why Moore released it as is. Seems like unfinished business.
Deflating biomass as energy renewable is a chief takeaway here, with various movers, shakers and backers, not looking good. The bigger takeaway is that organizations like the Sierra Club, when presented with facts, learned their lesson and have reversed their stance, something that large capitalists resist.
Nevertheless, this is an important film. A very important film. If the Green movement is to succeed, there has to be proper accountability. Perhaps this is a start, but we need a feel good Greta film with proper, updated, detailed and trending numbers, as a sequel to garner a transition reset that everyone can get excited about.
That ends today's lecture.
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retro film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
MUTE (Netflix 2018)
CRAP
john sekerka
One of life's mysteries: how an obviously gifted director can follow a genuine cinematic touchdown ("Moon") with a sloppy fumble ("Mute"). Adding coarse sea salt to the wound, this draggy debacle is supposed to be part two of an (formerly) eagerly anticipated triplet. Abort!
Duncan Jones, son of Bowie no less, created a deliriously enthralling film, a Sci-Fi mystery of an inner journey in outer space, sprinkled with comedic bites. This is not that movie. This is the unfortunate follow up. Here Jones mashes "M*A*S*H" with "Blade Runner", leaning on a scruffy Paul Rudd (usually big screen money) for eye-winking levity. Sounds promising right?
"Mute" feels like three, four, or maybe twelve movies in one. There's just too much going on, and none of it is really any good, or at least developed to a point of engagement. The plot opens with Alexander Skarsgard as a gentle giant Amish mute tending bar in a strip club, reluctantly sucked into a dangerous underworld because of, wait for it, love. Not a great start but fair enough, even the most lazy and improbable of story line can produce passable crap. Yet Jones starts suffocating his artsy attempt with increasing layers of plot, that by the film's ridiculous finale, when our mute is revisited, introductions are in order.
Adding to the confusion is Paul Rudd as Cactus Bill, the AWOL American surgeon in Berlin (huh?) killing an Elliott Gould porn stash, smacking bubble gum, striking a weird imbalance of quirky and creepy. Yes, Cactus Bill! You can't make this stuff up. Well, you can, and, they did.
Followers of futuristic worlds of fantasy will be crushed, as the sets are hackneyed forgettable, and the ideas banal. Neon signs! The future should be to be either awesome cool, or dystopian weird, not dishevelled boring or inconsistently drab.
About as baffling a movie streaming experience as possible, and way too long to boot, there is absolutely no saving this horrific, frustrating mess. Disappointing is an understatement. Dad, no doubt, is rolling over in his grave.
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streaming retro film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
THE KILLING OF A SACRED DEER (Netflix, 2017)
CREEP
john sekerka
A maddeningly slow crawl of robotic, stilted dialogue and sterile sets, sets up a wild second half in an accelerating dynamic of tense desperation. Yes this is the work of Yorgos Lanthimos, and yes it stars Colin Farrell, and yes it has the same creepy distance, frenetic frustration, deranged twist, and unsettling absurdism as their previous collaboration "The Lobster". And yes, it too is very, very good.
A quick refresher of the Greek tragedy "Iphigenia in Aulis" (referenced in the title, and briefly in the story line) is imperative. This is a play about Gods, or doctors in this case. Sin, blame, vengeance, sacrifice, and catharsis, a familiar score, but delivered in a finely crafted nuanced and oblique manner that ever so slowly tightens its grip, leading to a white knuckled conclusion.
It's almost a relief when the bizarrely mundane and oh so proper existence of the perfectly symmetric (two doctors, two kids, two sexes) well to do family, is interrupted by an outer teenage force. Hah! A terrifically creepy and clinically cold turn by Barry Keoghan (the Eddie Haskell to the Cleavers here) is the heart of "The Killing of a Sacred Deer". His insidious, stalking manoeuvres are unnervingly lifeless. In fact, most every character here is god damn lifeless. Disturbingly so. So when they start fighting for their lives, it almost begs the question: what the hell for?
The banal and cold character interaction is balanced by a menacing music score, and hovering, ground crawling, and wide angle cinematography. It is an exquisitely disturbing balance. Highly recommended, especially if irritation, discomfort, and insomnia are not a big deal.
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streaming film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
6 UNDERGROUND (Netflix)
BAYHEM
john sekerka
Spoiler alert: this is a Michael Bay film.
For anyone still reading, s'prise, this is a Michael Bay film with actual legs. Legs and wheels and guns and bombs and crashes and explosions. A multiple orgasm of explosions. But here's the sweet part of the deal: it has Ryan Reynolds. And Ryan Reynolds is allowed to, nay, implored to, quip sarcastic for the duration. Much like his "Deadpool" persona, except without the super hero shite. This is the saving grace. Or at least, makes it a bearable couple hours of parkour crazy, escapism fluff. "6 Underground" is a really great bad film. There, it had to be said.
Of course there's problems a plenty, like some ill advised political interludes, but that's what the fast forward button is for. And if grandpa has fallen asleep on the remote, you can take the time to restock nourishment, which is absolutely necessary. This is a giant tub of popcorn and a supersized vat of soda movie.
The plot, such as it is, involves a planned private coup of the oppressed nation of Turgistan, which turns out to be a fictional place (thanks Google Maps). It is also the set up for a tiny but oh so delicious Bern of the unnamed American president: "he can't even spell it". This thing is littered with little Reynolds verbal snipes which come almost as fast as the bullets. Pay attention. Or don't.
Everything looks super fantastic, all flashy colours, GoPro angles, boytoy guns and sculpted cleavage. There's slimy bad guys and chiselled good guys, and absolutely no grey areas in between. The storyline is grade school ridiculous, but also, grade school fabulous. As if a Ritalin and energy drink hopped up nine year old, mish-mashed the action sequences in every Bond, Mission Impossible, and Fast and Furious franchise on his laptop. If there's a level above "over the top", this is it. Magnificently insane. Sure to sweep the bestest and mostest explosions categories at the next Oscars. It is that good.
Or maybe it's the fever talking. Whatever, this is a cerebral jolt of incoherent, lunatic action fun that hits the spot. Just pummels it.
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retro film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
EX MACHINA (2015 - Amazon Prime)
ROBOT DANCE
john sekerka
A philosophical discussion about the cons of pre-thinking (programming) your creation, takes place in front of a Jackson Pollock painting (#5, 1948 for those who care about such things). Nice. Young, eager nerd intern Caleb is schooled by the possibly evil A.I. genius mentor boss Nathan in his isolated, windowless, wilderness mansion.
There's gonna be trouble.
In short: Nathan's Frankensteined a curvy she robot and employs Caleb to test her out. Nathan's the perfect nightmare host, drunk most of the time, sometimes on booze, sometimes on power. The entirety of the circumstances - the isolation, the mystery, the control, the cold architecture - creates a dizzying tension, with boyish Caleb navigating way above his normal comfort level. It's a beautiful looking film, with a wickedly foreboding current.
Domhnall Gleeson (Caleb), Oscar Isaac (Nathan) and Alicia Vikander (Ava, the robot) are exquisite as a tasty triangle of distinct, engrossing and mysterious characters, playing escalating, dangerous mind games. Imperative to pay strict attention to the witty, philosophies being bandied about. Automation, emotion, expression, choice, nature, nurture, circumstance, response, oh the list is long. This is much more than a SciFi paint by numbers ordeal. Also, it is damn creepy.
Anyone with a Roomba knows messing with Artificial Intelligence does not end well, but the genius behind "Ex Machina" is that it's not quite apparent who will get the short end of the memory stick. Sure we've devoured plenty of man vs machine conflict films, but this one ads a clever gender twist. And even when things unravel in a perfectly orchestrated and satisfactory climax, there remains a gnawing, hungry feeling. Just as it should be.
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retro film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
BLUE IGUANA (2018)
BADABOOM
john sekerka
Has any Sam Rockwell project ever failed to deliver?
Thought not.
Right in his smarmy, slovenly, charming wheelhouse, Rockwell carries this messy British backstabbing caper with a whiplash plot, a steady stream of ridiculous characters, plenty of yuks and plenty of blood.
How about a romantic interest who is an abominably messy eater? How about a snappy, chirpy wingman who carries a tampon for the inevitable bullet hole plug? How about a wild-eyed antagonist who sports a gloriously greasy mullet? No more spoilers. Suffice to say, there's plenty here to devour.
There's a big blue diamond at the centre of all the troubles, but that merely serves as a simple table setter for all the tomfoolery. What starts as an absurdist comedic heist, quickly turns to dangerous levels where everyone seems over their heads. Among the many small highlights littering this movie, is a chaotic pub shoot out where bottles and glasses are the chief victims. Turns out the Brits are terrible, terrible shots.
There's plenty of holes in the plot, but the free flowing vibe saves the day. Stop trying to make any sense of "Blue Iguana", and just enjoy the trip.
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retro film reviews for pandemic self-isolationists:
ATOMIC BLONDE (2018)
DOUBLE UH-OH
john sekerka
You need this movie. Trust me.
In the best James Bond tradition of kick assert, "Atomic Blonde" is a dizzying international spy caper brimming with gorgeously ripped leads, despicable bad dudes, windshield popping car chases, harsh European accents, neon lit sex scenes, a record body count, and a ridiculously twisty plot. It's a Moebius striptease.
Charlize Theron is perfect as the bleached Blondie in chest puncturing stilettos, who likes her foes much like her vodka: on ice. Bathed in black and blue hues, bouncing to a pulsing soundtrack of eighties new wave nuggets, our rogue heroine lays waste to an endless stream of thugs in stunning Bourne-like combat, snap, crackle and popping her victims in sharp, angular choreography.
Bruised, cut and battered for the duration, our badass icy cold super heroine tries to make some kinda sense of a convoluted Berlin story line based on East West cold war manoeuvres, so we don't have to. Thanks, we're here for the action. The suspension of logic. The escape. The ride. Buckle up!
Fast food espionage cinema at it's most delicious, surely this is the start of a long, long series. So yes, spoiler, our heroine survives her many perils. Sorry, not sorry.
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SORRY WE MISSED YOU
ENGLAND'S SINKING
john sekerka
Hard to like this movie, but that's the point. After all, we are in Ken Loach's world of hyper real, bleak 'n' grim, working class Britain.
"Sorry We Missed You", a tale of a desperate family man taking on the risky "self" employment of a parcel delivery driver (part of the diabolical zero hour gig economy), plays out like a gambling addict movie, without all the colour, flashiness and excitement. It is drab. It is slow. It is relentless. And it is painful. Holy crap, he's stuck in traffic!
Delivering political statements via deeply personal experiences is Loach's bread and butter, succeeding in outlining the horrific state of the Conservative battered masses. A struggling family of four barely has time to sort out any smallish personal issues, when the weight of survival threatens to crush them. They are easy to root for, but real life doesn't play favourites, and Loach hammers the struggling with repeated malaise.
This is a tough watch, meandering at a snail's pace as matters slowly but methodically unravel. Loach fills the screen with sadness, anger, and frustration like no other. It makes for a difficult journey in a futile search for a hint of a happy ending. Plays much like a stark documentary (the acting is fine, but subtle, jittery and subdued), which for many, will be off-putting. Some will love it. Some will hate it. But all will remember it. Come prepared.
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THE JESUS ROLLS
SPLIT
john sekerka
Spinning off from his "The Big Lebowski" micro character turn two decades past, hair netted, bowling enthusiast and petty crimester Jesus Quintana is set free for an adventure for the ages. Based on the mid-seventies French rowdy romp "Going Places", "The Jesus Rolls" seems infatuated with that politically incorrect time, focusing on macho men, horny women, and muscle cars.
As writer, director and star, John Turturro has bitten off a lot to chew here, and though it doesn't have the cohesive yet punchy buoyancy of a Coen brothers project, "The Jesus Rolls" has enough killer moments to make it a cult favourite.
With cartoony, over the top performances from everyone, there is little room for subtlety in this splashy film, and any stabs at dramatic empathy are sorely out of place. Would have been better to keep swinging for the fences and tweak the non-slapsticky moments with some clever(er) writing. Several scenes are in desperate need of plot connection. But maybe there is no plot at hand. Perhaps Turturro just wanted a series of riffs on his disjointed journey. Shame, since the hairdresser (wonderful Jon Hamm) conflict is pure gold, and should have superseded all other minor diversions.
And as wonderful it is to see Susan Sarandon back on the big screen, her appearance is an odd and jarring inclusion that retards the flow.
The original sleaze character owned a wonderful menace, but here we really don't know why anyone shouldn't fek with the Jesus. Jesus is quite alright.
Go for the guffaws, but don't expect to be wowed. Also, not enough bowling!
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SPACE AND TIME
BREAK DOWN
john sekerka
Bit of a missed opportunity this.
A seemingly content couple faces their first real test as they face their impending thirties, and spoiler, things don't go well. "Space and Time" nails the conundrum of companion comfort versus personal growth, but delivers the plot in such a true to life mundane manner so as to turn this into a bit of a ho-hum tale.
Siobhan and Sean seem like a good match. They have successful careers, their creature comforts, click on typical couple levels usually fostered in long term relationships, but clearly the spark of spontaneous fresh love has left the station. Not only are they at "the kids" question crossroad (never broached), but Siobhan decides to strike out on a drastic career move that could shake their rusty routine. A perfect set up for an emotionally explosive relationship dynamic one would think.
Yet the ensuing domino effect falls slowly and silently. Where's the damn drama?As the couple tries to move on, the possibility of reconciliation looms as the only carrot on this flick stick. That's a shame, cuz there's just not enough here to root for. Siobhan is super smart, ambitious, and loathe to settle. Sean means well, but is oblivious to the approaching storm, and loathe to change. When push comes to shove, the fireworks are but a couple of damp sparklers.
The film is almost saved as the characters find self-realization through the process, but even that comes with a tepid conclusion. A totally relatable story that will leave many heads nodding in sympathy, but wanting a bit more from their movie going experience.
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COME TO DADDY
SETTING SON
john sekerka
Oh what could have been.
Wispy mustachioed, fashionista hipster Elijah Wood is absolutely delightful as a bug-eyed, angle haired, floppy clothed, privileged son, on an unsettling journey to reconnect with his three decades estranged father. Soon Norval's limited edition gold iPhone is smashed during a drunken selfie episode as the family reunion commences.
With a wine bottle in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other, the fabulous Stephen McHattie provides a belligerent and menacing foe as the crazed papa. There's a chess set in the middle of all the verbal sparring, which as it turns out, is not just a red herring, but a stinky rotten fish. Instead of a clever gender duel, "Come To Daddy" comes totally off the rails and morphs into a bizarre, way over the top physical thrill ride that leaves many of the clever bits behind.
Not that that's a bad thing. It is just a weird thing. Like a double feature in one schizophrenic sitting. Perhaps folks will find pleasure in each half, perhaps not. The set up is certainly presented with snide snark, and creates an unsettling tension. The film looks great, with a velvety saturation glow. The performances are spot on. And the accelerating plot certainly has nary a dull moment, in a the best B-movie tradition.
Come for the outrageous roller coaster, but strap yourself in.
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UNCUT GEMS
DIGGING A HOLE
john sekerka
Lift the Adam Sandler filter block from your device, just for a couple of hours.
As crazy as that sounds, the reward is one of the best dramatic performances of the year. Dopey comic Sandler delivers some serious acting chops, morphing convincingly into his jewelry peddler character. This is John Turturro territory, which as it turns out, also offers a passing resemblance.
As the slimy yet congenial Howard, Sandler embodies his yappy hustler with just the right mix of bravura, oblivion, and misdirected entrepreneurial charm. Always one step behind in escalating debts, Howard keeps betting on himself in a self-inflicted, perverse, inverse pyramid scheme. When things go bad, go big!
Capturing the frenetic hustle and grimy bustle of New York streets, "Uncut Gems" is a loud talkie, shot in grainy close-ups and deep shadowy hues, pulsing with an insistent soundtrack that spars with dialogue creating a manic experience some may find confounding.
There's no need for build up; the tension permeates from the get go. Even when Howard makes friendly small talk, or attempts to participate in family life, his mind is always racing on another plane. And yet it is hard not to cheer for the delusional schlumpf, who despite all his transgressions, remains a sympathetic puzzle.
For a thrilling, frantic sequence of big money chaos and mayhem in an elite yet scummy underworld of wheeling and dealing few will ever sniff, this delivers the ultimate voyeur experience, which is what movies are all about. It's a roller coaster film: some will leave feeling nauseous, some will be discombobulated and confused, and some will eagerly get in line for another giddy go.
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PARASITE
CROSSING THE LINE
john sekerka
Rooting for an impoverished but resourceful underdog struggling to make ends meet, sets up a standard feel good movie scenario. Seemingly innocuous, "Parasite" captures the lively trials of the Kim family as they scheme and trick their way into cushy employment, starting an invasion of sorts. The web of lies in an escalating con targeting the insensitive and gullible Park family opens a series of mouth watering doors, but alas, there's always some that should remain shut.
Whether it's borders, classes, or smells, everyone has a line, that once crossed, destroys most semblance of rationale. "Parasite" brilliantly dissects how these boundaries (however personal and subjective) are developed within our very complicated and unique species.
Filmed almost exclusively within the two families' domiciles, one a filthy, cramped basement apartment, the other a glorious, spacious and meticulously spotless mansion on the hill, "Parasite" offers an obvious and very deep class chasm as plot kindling.
Delicious absurdist touches like peach fuzz allergies, hammer throw expertise, American Indian infatuations, and wifi signal hunting, are peppered throughout offering much welcomed distraction. Spinning an endearing class dichotomy comedy wildly out of control adds white knuckle power to the jarring second act. Sides are drawn early on, making it is easy to cheer for the bottom feeders in this warfare, but not everything on screen is black and white. The consequence of action and reaction during the increasingly muddied grey areas powers this film. What is good? What is evil? How is that line drawn?
Sneaky, powerful, perfectly paced, funny, shocking, and quite wonderful. Can a film be both dark and bright? Yes, yes it can.
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JOJO RABBIT
LET'S DANCE
john sekerka
Oh that Hitler!
Quiet an amazing feat, to create a context in which the most reviled character in history elicits smirks, guffaws, and out and out belly laughs. New Zealand film director wonder Taika Waititi not only tiptoes a dangerous minefield of comedy tragedy, but also inhabits a Stoogey Fuhrer in one of the most outrageous acting stabs in recent memory.
Everything revolves around giddy Hitler Youth Jojo (fabulously sincere and boyishly feverish Roman Griffin Davis), as he grows into his new double digit age, lapping up the local propaganda, eagerly striving to belong, and chumming about with his invisible chancellor pal. A sweet buddy-buddy picture? A vibrant coming of age story? A stunning moral tale? A slapstick comedy? A bloody war drama? It's all here. Plus Sam Rockwell!
Poking fun at historic tragedy with a short stick is dicey business, and though plenty of serious subplots run throughout, "Jojo Rabbit" works because the characters, from major to minor, are brilliantly developed, and impeccably acted. This is one crazy warm war film.
Much like Wes Anderson's best works, which this film sniffs of, "JoJo Rabbit" cleverly punctuates poignant moments with brilliant British invasion pop songs - using the German versions to great effect.
Go JoJo go!
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THE GOLDEN GLOVE
SMELL THE GLOVE
john sekerka
Ooof.
You. Are. Welcome.
Ugly characters doing abhorrent acts makes for an extremely squirmy movie experience most will want to eagerly avoid. Feel free to walk past briskly, and look the other way.
No need for scratch and sniff, this here's a pungent stinker. A stinker in a startling realistic, viscerally violent and disturbing manner. Based on fact, which in itself is a shocking revelation, "The Golden Glove" follows stumbling alcoholic slimeball Fritz Honka on his serial killing spree. Jacking up the violence of previous murder films seems impossible, but here it is. This is absolutely brutal viewing.
Glamour poster actor Jonas Dassler is unrecognizable as the shudderingly creepy, sloppy, klutzy, disfigured lost soul lashing out impulsively at his miserable life by taking others. A Quasimodo hunch and punchbag face accentuating his sorry sap routine. Whether at the Golden Glove pub - a dive where deplorables convene to repeatedly hit rock bottom, or at his atrociously ratty attic apartment, Honka preys female companionship via booze, but only finds solace with the bottle.
With a lingering war hangover, early-seventies Hamburg is a grimy, forgotten village of the damned, where sketchy prostitutes go missing, teeth-challenged transients complain about immigrants, and schnapps is the only dependable friend. It is an empty film of an empty place, frequented by empty locals. No future? Right here.
Exactly what this movie is, or why it is, isn't really the question. There are no questions. There's just the stomach punch stench that shows humanity lingering on the margins, which for better or worse, will always be documented.
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DOLEMITE IS MY NAME
DO THE HUSTLER
john sekerka
Running wild and loose, Eddie Murphy rapid fire riffs his way through a profanity laced biopic of legendary hustler Rudy Rae Moore. As the creator of underground blaxploitation film sensation Dolemite, who cussed, kung-fu chopped and streaked his way to cultdom in the mid seventies, this just might be Eddie Murphy's perfect vehicle for yet another comeback. Vroom vroom.
Several career stops as magician, stand-up comic, and R'n'B crooner, all pointed to an inevitable movie career for Moore, except Hollywood wasn't quite ready. Fly by the seat of your pants chutzpa and innovative corner cutting techniques berthed an outrageously awful, but mind-bogglingly hilarious cinematic achievement. The real life creation of the Dolemite character is, of course, even better.
Murphy is a sweet fit as the big-hearted, wise-cracking impresario of racy entertainment cheese, always ready to forge directly into the line of fire with an ear-splitting grin and an eye sparkle. The optimistic joy of unabashed, overconfident creation jumps off the screen. That's the good news.
While owning the larger than life swagger, Murphy never truly embodies the Moore character. It is Murphy doing Murphy throughout. Seems odd for a proven, adventurous mimic and acting chameleon. This shortcoming is especially telling next the totally fabulous performance of unrecognizable Wesley Snipes as the pompous yet bored, eternally tipsy, and scene stealing director co-star D'Urville Martin. Now that's some acting!
Small quibble, and those unfamiliar with Moore may not give a whiff, but it is what it is.
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ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD
OK BOOMER
john sekerka
Fudging history, a Hollywood staple, seems out of fashion these days. Enter Quentin Tarantino to expertly and rather romantically rewind to a time few remember, but those who do, will well right up. "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood" is exactly that: a cinemascopic love letter to summer of '69 L.A. in glorious technicolor.
Leonardo DiCaprio (Rick Dalton) and Brad Pitt (Cliff Booth) have never been better as long time lead actor and trusty stunt double, looking at a precarious employment sunset. Rick's smoking strut armour of extravagance, chinked with mid-career panic evident with a slight stutter slip, is a thing of disastrous, fragile beauty, whilst Cliff's down to earth servant with heart of gold and matching fists character, is classic stereotyping. Together they are Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but on the backlots of silly television westerns.
Tarantino let's his actors play, while streaming a steady pastiche of golden age Hollywood as the backdrop. The marquees. The cars. The clothes. What a trip!
Having the ominous threat of the Manson Family murders looming throughout, "Hollywood" carries a cruel tension, creating an unsettling dread from knowledge of history. And though Tarantino brings it, as he always does, in an explosive finale, his tackling of Hollywood history in a truly Hollywood manner is absolutely exquisite.
Perfect.
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MR. TOILET: THE WORLD'S #2 MAN
CRAPSHOT
john sekerka
Funny, not funny. That's the secret behind this oddball yet ultra serious documentary. How do you raise awareness about the world's struggles with proper sanitation? With a stream of horrible puns and a toilet costume of course. That's Jack Sim cracking potty humour from behind the throne, or inside the throne, or whatever, he is the throne. Fact is large populations are lacking what most take for granted: the ability to flush our troubles away. All jokes aside (for now), this is more than just an inconvenience issue, it is a health catastrophe on a substantial scale. Enter Sim, Jack Sim.
A disgruntled Singapore businessman in search of making a difference, Sim left his very lucrative past to conquer crap. Spearheading his non-profit WTO (World Toilet Organization) with his infectious optimism and winning smile, Jack is the perfect spokesperson for the task, yet is so feverishly gung-ho, he can't stay on point long enough to see many of his projects to completion.
The doc shifts from waste management to Jack's complicated internal motor. What makes him tick? How does he tick? And who does he tick off? Shit happens.
Augmented with cute cartoons and Jack's effervescent personality, we get a glimpse into the workings of a driven go-getter trying to save lives while balancing precarious family life, and all the while, there lurks an uncomfortable lesson about a touchy topic.
A royal flush.
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MARRIAGE STORY
FROM NEW YORK TO L.A.
john sekerka
And the Oscar goes to . . .
Pretty well everyone involved: leads Scarlett Johansson and Adam Driver, supporting actors Laura Dern and Alan Alda, director writer Noah Baumbach. Award spoilers aside, there's a damn startling movie here. Hollywood has tackled divorce often, and fumbled, until now. Eschewing the staid good guy vs. bad guy conflict, Baumbach zeroes in on a wonderful and lively young family, coming apart in a slow, spreading crack, that despite all good intentions, just keeps growing like a Roadrunner cartoon.
"Marriage Story" is an infuriatingly frustrating tale of characters who click as a couple, bubble with natural chemistry, yet can't quite transition past their early, blinding, love-in stage, when redefining transition is absolutely crucial. A universal conflict this. Driver and Johansson are exquisitely real in their roles, wrapping each other in delicious camaraderie, stepping out of comfort zones to seek solutions, snapping pettiness in conflict, crumbling at frustration. Can't help but cheer for their bliss, and tear up at their unravelling. Emotional roller coasters don't come much hairier.
Baumbach isn't afraid to poke, prod and twist deep into messy psyches on a journey revealing the complexities of human nature. Even in turmoil, amidst the vitriol, sometimes there is revelation. The lesson here: a lot of relationships unfurl because individuals crave their freedom, is a tough one because there isn't a magic solution, and sometimes shit happens. Also: lawyers are the worst.
A tough but worthwhile watch.
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THE IRISHMAN
POWER IN THE UNION
john sekerka
On the heels of a glorious Marvel Universe diss, old school filmmaker Martin Scorsese does more than yell at the kids, he delivers a marvellous film. "The Irishman" works as a splendid godson to the great mafia melodramas way back in the last millennium, but it also offers up a simple hypothesis to the whatever the hell happened to Jimmy Hoffa quandary. And more importantly, why it happened.
As the big mouthed, wide-eyed teamster boss, Pacino channels his late career one dimensional blustery best into a role perfectly suited to an uncomplicatedly stubborn character, but really, Al jumped the shark when he started smelling women. Then, as the well-meaning, overtly dedicated and stupidly subservient henchman Frank Sheeran, we have Robert De Niro. He IS this movie. A matter of fact narration from the old folks home guides the action that swings from comedic posturing to blunt violence at the slightest provocation. Frank is simple. Frank is congenial. Everyone likes Frank. Except a daughter. That tense relationship is his lone regret, and a vital running thread.
Spanning decades, and with the help of computer manipulation (make up? we don't need no stinkin' make up!), "The Irishman" follows these badfellows from virile hoodlums to decrepit, shaky shells. It's a startling bit of cinema magic, especially for the grape to raisin transformation of a shrinking Joe Pesci. Plus, it's pretty cool to see former Godfathers Pacino and De Niro come full circle to rekindle their glorious gangster past.
There's a lot to love and loathe here (in a good way), from the simmering development of lifelong relationships, to silly, seemingly mundane character interaction ("who wears shorts to a meeting?"). Most importantly Scorsese manages to warp time with this film; it is a super quick three and a half hours of your life. A hit.
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EL CAMINO
METHY BUSINESS
john sekerka
Not a stand alone movie, but a cool two-hour, episode 63 of the "Breaking Bad" franchise, "El Camino" offers up the goods and the bads from whence Vince Gilligan last left us dangling. Anyone not on the binge brigade, or at least a thorough background check, will be confused as hell, but there ya go.
Spinning the cameras and focusing directly on the forgotten partner in crime, Gilligan ties up several loose ends whilst orchestrating Jesse Plinkman's desperate life scramble. As the simple, misguided but driven teen, Aaron Paul's character required as big a stretch as Bryan Cranston's Walter White, and his scattered, jig-sawed story ached to be flushed out.
Several forgettable Hollywood missteps in the interim showed Paul just can't shake Jesse. It's who he does best. It is who he is. Bad news for him, good news for us. We know what we are getting - danger, suspense, action and a bit of cleverness - and are super comfortable with it.
In a wonderful send off bonus, there is a delicious last turn from Robert Forster as a congenial vacuum salesman slash fixer, who absolutely kills it, without, er actually doing any killing.
Everything comes together perfectly. "El Camino" carries on the visceral tradition of the series with carefully paced adventure, saturated colours, bleak landscapes, and rigidly masculine performances. All that's missing is the horses.
Giddy-up.
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LINDA RONSTADT - THE SOUND OF MY VOICE
JUST ONE LOOK
john sekerka
You want the dirt? There ain't none. Documentaries without bite kinda bite, but can serve as well placed bookmarks for times long forgotten. Some say for the best. Yet there's enough in this here Linda Ronstadt biopic to achieve a wee bit of melancholic flashback entertainment.
Chiefly forgotten these days, Linda Ronstadt was a money making dynamo in the seventies, cranking out platinum albums, crossing over genres like there were no walls, dominating the AM radio charts, and gracing magazine covers with her squeaky clean cutie pie all American girl next door looks (sometimes in a Girl Scout uniform). Cool that next door is actually Mexico (which flows in her river of blood), and proved to be the inspiration for the fabulous "Conciones de mi Padre" record, easily the musical highlight of her varied career.
Ronstadt turns out to be quite the smart lady, delivering a confident maturity and political savvy belying her fresh years in an early clip. Her climb to fame, which at the time looked meteoric, was actually a struggle, yet seems all but inevitable because of her awesome pipes. It is great to see the power, command and drive in her live performances, since most of her albums are now garage sale filler. Ronstadt was a force of the times, but because she wasn't a composer, gets little historic play in the cruel entertainment biz.
As is par for a music doc course, the formative early years are the draw, and Ronstadt's are surprisingly kaleidoscopic. Her quirky family, which includes heralded inventor, great grandpa Ronstadt (the electric toaster!) deserves more air time, but the heady, just post-woodstock adventures with the Eagles, Emmylou Harris and Neil Young, is what rock loving boomers crave, and get.
A juicy tabloid romance with much maligned Governor Jerry Brown is hardly mentioned, which begs the question is there more than this squeaky clean wikipedia style document offers? Perhaps not. There may not be any dirt, but surely they could have dug a bit deeper.
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JOKER
TEARS OF A CLOWN
john sekerka
The superhero movie that isn't. That's a good thing. Not one fat Hollywood buck was spent on CGI. Not that anyone gives a buck, but there you have it.
"Joker" is a cruel and beautiful prank on what's left of the D.C Universe: a standalone tale following a deeply disturbed misfit derailing and dragging a willing audience along (both on screen and off) for his special train wreck in a garbage stricken Gotham City (psst: 1981 New York).
Youngsters may not recognize the "Taxi Driver" and "King of Comedy" mash up going on here, but that's ok. Joker works both as a fanboy's dedication, and as a singular stab at noire art. The screen is filled with magnetic Auroras of bluesy greens, and sporadically splashed with blood red ejaculate. It looks fabulous. It sounds fabulous - full of creepy beautiful Frank Sinatra crooning.
Sorry comic book devotees, Batman tie ins are the weak points here, and should have rightly been excised to the cutting room floor. "Joker" is all smoking' Joaquin Phoenix, as he stumbles, trips, falls, rises, dances, and destroys. It is a feral and an all consuming performance, rendering everything else to background bokeh.
Crazy that it was Phoenix who dropped fifty pounds for this role and not Christian Bale. Though this sets up the inevitable anorexic battle: Batman vs Joker.
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INSTANT DREAMS
ROID RAGE
john sekerka
This is a documentary about Polaroid instant film. Might not be so obvious, but really, it really is. Falling asleep halfway through does not diminish said proclamation. Might require several viewings (as was the case) and multiple strong coffees, but "Instant Dreams" tells (kinda) the story of the revolutionary film process (well, until digital made everything obsolete) that swept the nation, nay the world.
Telling the tale in a bizarre, seemingly unrelated forked path, this flick follows oddball folks as they expound on the virtues of not waiting a week to see their snaps, plus a love for the stupendous superiority of blurry, colour challenged shots. Folks covet their Polaroids. And now when the "back to analogue" scam, er, movement has convinced hipsters to buy vinyl records at $40 a pop, the resurgence of expensive old school photographs is a thing.
Ramping up the quirk factor, is an oddly menacing, purply hued conspiratorial style doc within this doc, about mysterious science genius and Polaroid founder Edwin H. Land. In some rare, creepy, but in a cool X-Files way footage, he basically predicts the iPhone by taking out a dark object, faking-taking a picture with it, and making a claim that it will store all your information. Edwin H. Land passed in 1991. Is this for real? Is this like the moon landing? Who knows? Not me. But clearly a full blown documentary on Edwin H. Land is deserving, if not a ninety hour PBS project by Ken Burns.
Filled with weird, psychedelic interludes (the staying awake challenge), there's a "2001: A Space Odyssey" vibe going on here. As in, there's something way bigger than physical photos at play here. Or maybe not.
I loved "Instant Dreams", all three times, perhaps for the wrong reasons, but there you have it. Snap snap snap.
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ASK DR. RUTH
THE S WORD
john sekerka
It's time for the talk. You know, the, talk.
Thanks to a tiny, pepper pot, ex-sniper and now media darling personality since 1980, North America can now converse sensically whilst employing previously taboo words like, wait for it: orgasm!
Whew.
Now 91, Dr. Ruth continues her tireless campaign to make everyone comfortable with sex by talking about it with a stark openness that, because it is delivered by someone who looks like grandma, elicits everything from awe, to shock, to giggles, to inspiration. No secret there, that's just perfect film fodder, but what this well paced doc does offer is a combination of her astounding history, her unrelenting workaholic pace, and why they are connected.
As a jewish girl at the outbreak of World War Two, Karola Ruth Siegel was whisked off from her native Germany to a Swiss orphanage, never to see her parents again. Her remarkable journey from that bleak beginning to her celebrity status, is a riveting one. "Ask Dr. Ruth" follows, at a good pace, Dr. Ruth as she scampers from one event to another, pausing for some historic tidbits and reflection. Westheimer is all business though, even when discovering some long buried secrets, or visiting childhood friends. She is Dr. Ruth, the sparky, perky dynamo we see on television, and one of the most important voices for women who avoids the feminist tag. What's not to love?
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PRETENDERS
SMOKIN'
john sekerka
Best catch this movie before it disappears, whoops, too late. Here's what you missed. Buried somewhere In the ever expanding James Franco universe - seems this was made back in 2016 - The Pretenders, or Pretenders not only has a flippy-floppy title but a plot that does likewise.
What starts out as an interesting ode to new wave French cinema, forming a soft-focused love triangle full of fresh faced hope, aspiring arteests, and constant chain smoking, devolves into a bit of a mess. Too bad, cuz the first course is quite yummy. As aspiring filmmaker Terry (Jack Kilmer, son of Val, inheritor of stoic face and acting skill) falls for an Anna Karina lookalike in the theatre crowd whilst watching, wait for it, Anna Karina on the big screen. They meet over smokes (natch), but poor Terry needs some nudging and prodding from his Casanova photographer pal Phil to get to first base. You know where this is going, but do you?
Bed hopping ensues, feelings are viciously attacked, confusion prevails, time passes (though no one ages - natch), and just when everything seems to be coming full circle for the boffo ending, we find a red herring swimming in the soup.
Shame, cuz the lead up is quite good, and anyone fond of the French will surely be pleased with themselves pointing out the stream of referential material, but is it enough when the clumsy wrap dethrones all that throning? Probably not. Still worth it for breakout star Jane Levy as the mysterious object d'amour, and the puzzling and super short appearance by wizened Dennis Quaid as the grumpy dad, which makes absolutely no sense at all, but there it is. Bet there's several alternate endings on the upcoming DVD version.
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DESOLATION CENTER
ON DESERTING
john sekerka
Shuttle busing a murder of LA kids out to the Mojave Desert and attempting a musical happening, Desolation Centre was the first punk version of Woodstock. The bare bones year one operation featured Savage Republic and the Minutemen, proving successful enough to entice New York scenesters Sonic Youth, german industrial experimenters Einsturzende Neubauten, and mad scientist Mark Pauline blowing shit up, to join in on the action.
This was the early eighties, and though the rest of the world was chiefly unawares, the Desolation Center projects proved very influential, and pointed directly to such gargantuan beasts as Lollapalooza, Coachella and Burning Man. Luckily photos were taken, footage was shot, and many people survived to retell the tale. The resulting documentary, if a bit scrambled and rough, does a nice job of capturing the yahoo artistic explosion of a new generation looking to create their own identity, their own scene, their own happening.
Stuart Swezey, who organized the festivals, also directs this doc, and thus offers crucial insider information, but very little distance from the source. It all sounds pretty cool and fabulous and often outta control, and maybe it was, but the film really works best when some of the outsiders like Thurston Moore (who came cross country because he was such a geeky fan) and Blixa Bargeld (who remembers almost nothing) have their say.
Desolation Center works as an historic document, a surprising bit of entertainment, and a look into a time and place few people knew or cared about, but should have.
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BRITTANY RUNS A MARATHON
RUNNING WILD
john sekerka
Spoiler alert: Brittany does indeed, run a marathon. Sorry. But not sorry. What has all the pedantic brush strokes of a paint by numbers, Hollywood feel good sugar rush, about a chunky sad girl turning her world around, is all that, but sprinkles this Cinderella story with honest sweat instead of pixie dust.
Jillian Bell is perfectly cast as the slightly plump, wise-cracking gal pal everyone wants to have at the party, but few care to engage past such superficial sheen gatherings. Soon enough she is shamed into lacing up running shoes and finding out their meaning. Friendships are made. Love is kindled. Pounds are lost. And gained. Yes, there are hard truths in this true story, and the physical battle is also paralleled by a mental one.
If the plot gets a bit predictable, the proceedings are saved by Bell's hilarious riffing. Her spontaneous comedic chops are razor sharp, and it seems they let her run improvisationally wild. Good call. Equally killer is Utkarsh Ambudkar as an unlikely life co-conspirator who cools Brittany's fiery tongue with a super chill aura.
Look, this isn't Oscar material, but a breezy ninety-four minutes of fun that slips in just enough real life bits to make it work.
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FREAKS
SCI-FINE
john sekerka
Taking on a well worn mutant story line that's been part of the mighty Marvel universe from day one, where the line between good and bad is hazy grey, "Freaks" is less about showy CGI but more about familial relations. And that's why it works. The daughter, mother, father and grandpa family tree that forms the film is a messy tangle of branches and unwieldy roots, which slowly align as the plot unfolds.
Lexy Kolker as single digit aged Chloe, brings a charming naivete of someone new to life, who might have access to a mysterious super power. The movie rests on her tiny shoulders, and she pulls it off. Whether dealing with her sketchy dad (Emile Hirsch) who may or may not be crazy, or her ghostly mom (Amanda Crew) who may or may not be real, or her sketchy grandpa (Bruce Dern) who may or may not be the neighbourhood ice cream man, Chloe is the central magnet and is damn easy to root for.
Adding another late career feather in his well worn acting hat, Dern is devilicious in his rambunctious retiree role, offering equal doses of creepiness and blood line dedication. Chloe's confusing and changing allegiances to her dad and grandpa is a clever device that spices up this top notch thriller.
My biggest problem with Emile Hirsch is that he looks and acts like Jack Black. It's distracting. But that's a personal qualm, and one that shouldn't detract from the performance, which is manic good.
Yes the story gets a little wacky, after all we are talking about an apocalyptic mutant scenario, so wacky is par for the course. There's enough heart, relatability, and thankfully a lack of superhero posturing (no silly costumes!) to make "Freaks" a winner.
Yup.
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TWIN FLOWER
WALKAWAYS
john sekerka
Escaping from different circumstances, teens turning adult find a common path for survival. "Twin Flower" employs a typical movie plot that switches between the struggle for survival and the developing relationship, moving at a languid, steady pace. Our couple is not so much on the run, as on the stroll, favouring realism over sensationalism in a well crafted slice of life.
As Basim and Anna, newcomers Kallil Kone and Aniello Arena nail the right balance of awkward attraction, uncomfortable wariness, loss of innocence and accepting of trust of any new companionship. The first time actors' develop on screen as the story unfolds, which takes it's bloody time, but never strays from the goal.
Though Europe's immigration issue is at the core of the conflict, this is really an age old story about kids forced to grow up way too fast, in a slow series of events. Like most rewards, It demands patience.
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TIGERS ARE NOT AFRAID
CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
john sekerka
Set in the dilapidated remains of a Mexican city ruined by brutal drug cartel oppression, "Tigers Are Not Afraid" follows a handful of orphaned kids clinging to what is left of their lives. Leaving all politics in the background, this absorbing and harrowing adventure proceeds from the childrens' point of view, mixing blunt violence with dreamy sequences, with just enough shocks to evoke a Guillermo Del Toro palate.
Astounding turns from its two leads, Paola Lara and Juan Ramon Lopez, keep this film from careening off the tracks, instilling an innocent believability to what's going on screen, blurring the lines of physical reality and adolescent imagination. "Tigers" is a three wish fairy tale littered with corpses, ghosts and animated stuffies, but by cleverly leaving the adults out of it, it succeeds.
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smallSCREEN interruptus:
FLEABAG
CARRY ON
john sekerka
The greatest television show in the history of the earth as we know it!!!
Don't worry, you're not too late to the game, and yes 2016 was so three years ago, but that was Season One, and in true British "take our time" fashion, Season Two is this year fresh. Don't have one of those primo amazon accounts? Good for you, pat yourself hardily on the back. That guy's a jerk, and here's how you can screw him: start your free trial, binge both seasons of Fleabag and promptly cancel your membership. Boom! Don't forget to cancel your membership though, this cannot be stressed enough. Please do not write huffy comments if you fail in this three part process. For feks sake people, it's only three steps: start, binge, stop. Basically a one night tv stand (12 episodes is all), except everyone wins.
Right, so who or what the hell is Fleabag? Besides the greatest show in the history of the earth as we know it? It is the brain and body child of the extraordinary Phoebe Waller-Bridges. She of the sharp nose and sharper tongue. Right from the get-go the fourth wall is not just broken but smashed to smithereens, as Fleabag winks, smirks, eyebrow arches, and quips at us through every moment, even the naughty, intimate ones. And yes, there are plenty of those.
Fleabag deals with her wacky lays, her wacky family, her wacky friend, her wacky self, but all in the grand Brit tradition of furnishing our comedy with healthy doses of misery, despair, trauma, faith, sex and hidden complexity. Even though Fleabag is a torching tornado without filter, it is not just easy to root for her, it is imperative. Her aim is totally true even when she dives head first into tempting minefields, and the perilous, just can't help herself journey is scream along hilarious. Season One one is revelatory funny. Season Two is simply astonishing. A quenching couple of 6-packs that hits the spot.
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LIGHT OF MY LIFE
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
john sekerka
An unsettling slow burn survival tale with a methodic yet effective reveal, "Light of My Life" is a startling father-daughter road movie, which operates around a pandemic. A pandemic that has devastated the female population. A pandemic that now pits men against each other in desperate times.
Casey Affleck writes, directs and stars. And he is good. Without his usual Bawston drawl, Affleck is actually intelligible, which helps. Helps a lot. As a good guy on the run, even when there appears nowhere to go, Affleck delivers a stark little masterpiece that digs deep into a parent and child bond whilst the outside world is crumbling to hell. Similar to Cormac McCarthy's "The Road", "Light of My Life" relies heavily on the leads, and they shine. They shine when wet, when muddy, when frozen, when filthy, when bloody.
In the end it's not where they go, or what happens, it's about their little world, their unique connection. Affleck and Anna Pniowsky own the screen from the unforgettable opening sequence to the thrilling end. Easy to root for, this one is. Except for the terrible title of course.
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THE ART OF SELF DEFENSE
KARATE KIDDING
john sekerka
As a bullied 90 pound weakling accountant who finds his dojo and then his mojo at the local strip mall karate school, Jesse Eisenberg, as usual, is a wide-eyed marvel of static, nervous energy. Transforming from cowering victim to proud yellow belter in short order, thanks to some martial arting and a new appreciation for speed metal, our manboy Casey discovers a new and improved masculine self. Things are looking up, or perhaps sideways.
"The Art of Self Defense" is a deceptive piece of celluloid: a tense absurdist comedy masquerading as a blunt hunk of dark drama. The film comes in a variety of brown hues, takes place in a nondescript place, in a nondescript time, with nondescript people. Hardly anyone smiles, except for the nervous variety. Carefully selected words are spoken in soft monotones and deep eye stares. The comedy is delivered with deadpan sincerity, often during uncomfortable, passive-aggressive confrontations. It's all a gloriously relentless slow burn to the circle of fire climax. Totally worth it.
Carefully structured, methodically paced, filled with complex yet seemingly vacant characters, as if Wes Anderson were to direct "Fight Club", "The Art of Self Defense" is a tightly wound piece of oddball wonder, and the feel weird movie of the summer.
Chop chop.
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FREE TRIP TO EGYPT
WALK LIKE AN EGYPTIAN
john sekerka
"I'm so racist I can't stand it," declares Ellen. Pretty soon she's riding a camel in Cairo. A perfect subject for Tarek Mounib's "calling" of a film: to bring red State Americans into the welcoming hands of Egyptian Muslims, to facilitate some kind of discussion.
Easier said than done, turns out not many Trumpeters are eager to fly into the middle of the Middle East, even on Mounib's all inclusive dime. But soon enough, a lucky seven are experiencing their fish out of water experience in the desert. Eager to start conversations instead of preaching and teaching, Mounib pairs the Yanks with inviting Egyptian counterparts, and that's when the movie shines. All touristy bits aside (thankfully they are few), it is the frank connections made in muslim homes that stirs this melting pot.
Some see the light. Some remain blinded. Some have staggering personal revelations. Others appear unmoved. But all have the experience of a lifetime. As a documentary, "Free Trip To Egypt" works mainly because of Mounib's unrelenting optimism, unabashed cheerfulness, huggy good vibes, and discreet apolitical approach. He is the perfect conduit host for this experiment, and more importantly, someone who has actually done something with his calling.
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MARIANNE & LEONARD: WORDS OF LOVE
SO LONG ...
john sekerka
With his original muse on her death bed, Leonard Cohen penned her a lovely letter, closing a full circle for both. Yet besides her song, and a stark photo on the back of an album cover, Marianne remains a mystery to most.
Until now. As with other Cohen docs, there is more than enough juicy material to choose from. We receive a nice historic overview, but it is with the early idyllic, bohemian life on hippie isle Hydra, that "Marianne & Leonard" works best. The Canuck poet of the day escapes to fantasy island to soak in the ocean, the weather, the wine, the women. The woman. Norwegian Marianne Ihlen becomes his muse, and Cohen's wet dream becomes dry reality.
With shaky super 8 footage and grainy photographs (there's some great shots of Lenny with a cheesy moustache), their little odyssey is perfect documentary fodder, augmented nicely with vivid recollections from the scenesters of the day. Cohen's subsequent return to Montreal and transition into music, closed the chapter on Hydra, but his complex connection with Marianne remained a constant, and a story well worth telling.
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THE TOMORROW MAN
DEATH DEFYING
john sekerka
Sap alert: yes this is a geriatric romance of the old fashioned variety, but it has enough little detours to make it work. The exceptional acting from John Lithgow and Blythe Danner doesn't hurt.
As an aging, secretive survivalist know it all, Ed spends most of his time on conspiracy internet boards, that is until he spies Ronnie at the local grocery store. Courting ensues, with all the magic and hurdles that come with any relationship.
Turns out there's more than one secret to be revealed which threatens a future for these lonely souls, and though the plot line is paint by numbers, there's a sweet innocence that saves this film. A bit of an unexpected ending helps wrap the whole thing up with a lovely bow.
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DIANE
I WILL SURVIVE
john sekerka
Small town New England, where the skies are grey, trees cast skeleton shadows, and folks drive endlessly to nowhere. A group of baby booming women gather for spirited, neighbourly warmth, as the ravages of time loom ominously on their well lived lives. Their men, the ones that are left, shuffle in the background.
Diane has things to do, it says so in long hand on her daily reminder note. But her mundane errands belie a couple of hardships: dealing with an adult son with a history of addiction, and a dying cousin hanging on to a lifelong grudge. As Diane, Mary Kay Place strikes a nuanced balance of vulnerable strength, a woman tough enough to bully her offspring into sobriety, good-hearted enough to bring true friendships to many, and broken enough to dance drunk solo in front of a jukebox.
Filled with excellent turns from a bunch of Golden Girls - actors who cut their chops back on the sets of "Love American Style" and "Mannix" - this film brings enough community spirit to perfectly complement Place's solo tour de force. Friends start to drop. Diane continues her lonely drives. The clouds never break. Nothing much changes, and it's all in Place's stony face.
Not for everyone, "Diane" is a moody chunk of cinema which is oh so rewarding for those willing to stick with it..
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HALSTON
VICTIM OF FASHION
john sekerka
In what may be the definitive look at Studio 54 crazy seventies fashion excess, "Halston" is a mixed bag of riveting stories, grainy VHS tapestry, and failed mystery caper.
Flamboyant dress dictator Roy Halston Frowick was indeed larger than life, and his dirt poor farm boy to fashion mogul of the stars story is watermelon juicy. Juicy and messy. Everyone loves an impossible mountain climb, especially when it is followed by a precipitous fall. The Halston tale has it all, complete with a bevy of celebrity cameos, eye-popping paparazzi pics, shocking news headlines, and jittery standard definition television clips. It's a cinematic ice-cream headache: a sweet and delicious start, which leaves you a bit concussed by the end.
If nothing else, this doc serves as a perfect history primer for the outrageous spectacle that the fashion industry would become. Plus it features the utterly charmingly cut-throat Halston in all his fabulous, pompous glory.
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TEEN SPIRIT
ISLE OF WHITE
john sekerka
Pay close attention to the Cinderella Star is Born Karate Kid mashup here, cuz clever filmmaker Max Minghella slips in some subtle details to supplement his standard fairy tale.
Yes we have the paint by numbers, awkward duckling stepping into the spotlight plot line, which unless you watch movies with a cold cold heart, is always endearing, but few of these ice cream stands offer anything but a brief sugar rush. "Teen Spirit" does.
Without dwelling on, or even mentioning it, Minghella shows off the complications of a small English town transitioned into a multi-cultured gathering, all different shapes, sizes, colours and backgrounds. The fact that teen singer Violet has a stern Polish mother, a bumbling Croatian manager, and a misfit band of various shades, is just what it is. Brexit shmexit, they have a contest to win!
As the shy but game Violet, Elle Fanning continues her metamorphosis into a major star, revealing primo acting chops and a pretty good vocal range. "Teen Spirit" may not be a great movie, but it is a satisfying one. Yummy.
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MINDING THE GAP
OLLIE OLLIE IN COME FREE
john sekerka
Boys to men skating for their lives, Bing, Zack and Keire glide to gloomy adulthood across lower class America in a jarringly potent documentary. Starting innocently with frivolous summery teen joviality, "Minding The Gap" seamlessly moves into bleak futures that ride on dark histories.
The charismatic trouble leader, Zack smokes, skates and drinks his days away, stubbornly fighting adulthood and responsibility. Zack is the shit! And as much as he dominates the screen, happy go lucky goof Keire steals the movie with his emphatic optimism. As the filmmaker, Bing spends most of the time in the shadows, but steps out to confront his horrific past. Something all three share.
"Minding The Gap" is a great, free-wheeling snapshot of exuberant youth, a harsh look at family strife, a brutal glance into the sinking have nots, a brilliant take on race, and one helluva film.
It is the present version of the all-American dream: scarred, messy, shattered, but with hope. Not to be missed.
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J.T. LEROY
WIGOUT
john sekerka
Based on a true story that was based on a big fat lie, J.T. LeRoy is first and foremost, a delicious vehicle for thespian wonder Laura Dern, and second, a bit of mishandled mess.
Messes can be good though, and this curious ride delivers the old truth is crazier than fiction roller coaster thrill of thin celebrity skin, and those infatuated with peeling back layers at all costs. A gender fluid teen, Jeremiah Terminator LeRoy was the pen name of Laura Albert. Which would have been fine, and in literary circles, not that uncommon, except that Albert decided to bring her greatest fictional character to life.
J.T. LeRoy, the film, zooms in on the tightening noose Albert has created with her tepid boyfriend's sister - a wonderfully understated, uncomfortable, unnerved, silly wigged Kristen Stewart. As the controlling director of white lie operations, Dern is fabulous as both the manipulative author, and as the uptight handler Speedy she creates to oversee her mystery puppet.
As complicated as all this all sounds, it is much more than that. The role of gender variations is a key underlying theme, and unfortunately, is fumbled. Too bad, cuz there is a pretty good movie here, and one helluva story.
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US
CLASS DISMISSED
john sekerka
Masquerading as a political horror flick, "Us" is really a steady stream of cultural references thriller with a twist clever enough to get folks all riled up. Much like the the Coen brothers, and Quentin Tarantino, Jordan Peele is obsessed with littering his grand canvas with a bunny farm of Easter Eggs.
The internet is going crazy tracking down everything from obscure VHS covers, to Biblical passages, to this Michael Jackson fella. It's all a bit much really, distracting from what should be a seat-gripping theatre experience. Pilfering an old Twillight Zone episode about an evil doppelganger, "Us" takes a brilliant premise and clutters it with needless tidbits. This of course means box office gold, as repeated viewings are necessary to grasp everything needed for proper dissection. Shame that.
"Us" looks great, revs nicely to a boffo climax, and features some brilliantly complex performances from its leads. Lupita Nyong'o is especially fantastic. But as with all great horror films, there needs to be a suspension of common sense to really dig this movie. If there's time to ponder on the plausibility of what is happening on screen, then the whole thing falls apart. "Us" comes close, but short (where the hell are the guns?).
Still, there's enough fodder here (privilege, race, America, revenge, soul, cults) for much heated discussion, and Jordan Peele proves he's not a one trick pony director, but a horse that needs to be reigned in a little.
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THE PARTY'S JUST BEGINNING
PARTY GIRL
john sekerka
Chastising small town Scottish life to indifferent yet surly pubsters more interested in their drink than this open mic looney, Liusaidh delivers her trash talk with poetic vigour before stumbling out for her nightly shag and take away.
As Liusaidh, (Lucy or Loosey) Karen Gillan owns the screen, as she trudges through her insufferable existence, something her best friend decided against a year's past. Her nightly drink/shag/fries concludes with a stagger over the train bridge favoured by local jumpers, and visions of her dear departed, departing. This unsettling tragedy of events soon becomes mundane with repetition, as is everything in the unfortunate ville of Inverness.
Staring into deep dead space from the local deli counter, under harsh fluorescents and a tight hairnet, she encounters a new bloke interested in more than just processed meats, and we are off. "The Party's Just Beginning" doesn't follow the paint by numbers movie canvass, instead delivering a choppy story in jumpy time slices, with equal doses of edgy humour and dark pathos. Attention must be paid.
Although there are glimmers of hope, the film, like it's perpetually grey, dead end town, has trouble finding a rainbow among the clouds, and that may be the point.
This one, for better or worse, or both, stays with you.
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THE GREEN BOOK
DRIVING DR. SHIRLEY
john sekerka
Up against racially charged cinematic explosions at the Oscars, "The Green Book" took home the grand prize, and made Spike Lee attempt to flee the premises. The polarizing win makes for healthy debate and curiosity seekers should check this film out.
This role reversal, buddy-buddy shtick flows mighty thick, but it actually happened. A good natured Italian thug is hired to drive a prim and proper black musician on a tour of the South. In 1962. Yup. A big-hearted, big-stomached Viggo Mortensen stumbles perfectly through his inevitable transformation from racist simpleton to enlightened simpleton, while Mahershala Ali's hard shell eventually softens enough to join in the Merry Christmassy ending.
The cookie cutter script is baked just right, but anyone hoping for an edgier take on America's race relations best look elsewhere. Where "The Green Book" shines is in the background details - the sets, the cars, the hotels, Little Richard on the radio. This is 1962 America.
It may not have been the game changer folks craved to see groping golden statuettes on Oscar's night, but Mortensen and Ali made it come to life, and that's why the "The Green Book" succeeds.
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COLD PURSUIT
FROZEN SECTION
john sekerka
Spoiler alert: Liam Neeson kills a bunch of bad dudes.
The twist? Tis a wintery film this, with bevy of ingenious end of life moments ranging from snow ploughs, to road signs, to glorious pine trees. Comedy noir anyone? "Cold Pursuit" adds that perfect blend of tangy spice to what could have been another paint by numbers revenge caper, giving perfectly cast, stone cold Liam Neeson enough comedic angles to dupe sympathy for a mechanical vigilante.
Though several interesting subplots are buried deep in the snowbanks, "Cold Pursuit" succeeds in that Coen Brothers style of delivering equal doses of terror and yuks, often simultaneously.
Highly recommended, or at least it would be, if this hadn't already been done before, and better, by the same director no less ("In Order of Disappearance"), but with the caveat of distracting subtitles. Choices choices.
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THE HUMMINGBIRD PROJECT
COUSIN VINNIE
john sekerka
When a financial IT hustler in the midst of his greatest gamble is presented with a death sentence, he decides to dig a deeper hole.
Twitchy, wide-eyed Jesse Eisenberg is perfect as the edgy and on the edge Vincent, putting out a series of unfortunate fires in his bizarre quest to drill a straight fibre cable pipe from Kansas to New Jersey. Better is balding nerd, hunch-backed, awkward code crunching cousin Anton, played by unrecognizable Alexander Skarsgard in equal doses of clown tear sadness, and physical slapstick. Their escape from and battle with Cruella Devillish Salma Hayek (strong boss Eva), stirs the plot pot.
"The Hummingbird Project" is an exercise in determined futility, as a couple of misguided geniuses in search of life-altering, get rich quick adventure, get in way over their heads as their world spirals out of control. And though the film veers off common sense tracks, there's no denying it's power to cajole viewers along for the crazy ride.
Dig it!
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SINK OR SWIM
THE POOL MONTY
john sekerka
Mid-life crisis misfits saddled with various issues, strap on speedos to rock the world of, a-hem, synchronized swimming!
Ah, the French.
Overflowing with big name Franco actors, "Sink or Swim" is a box office sensation overseas, and has Cannes and Caesars nods to boot. Tis a land after all, which confuses Jerry Lewis with Orson Welles.
Yes the acting is fine, and there are enough bits and pieces of cinematic charm, but much of this film is way too syrupy, easily predictable, if not down right frustrating. The backstories are too many - some are hambone ridiculous, others are dramatically cold - and most are not flushed out properly.
The inevitable transition from frogs to princes is hardly believable, and frankly, anticlimactic. You know there's a feel goody, splashy ending coming, which kinda defeats the purpose of spending a couple of hours with these flabby gents, and proves to be quite the shallow end.
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ARCTIC
GREAT DANE
john sekerka
"Arctic" starts with a cold opening, and the temperature drops from there. With no back story, no flashbacks, no explanation, no thundering voice over, no leading series of events, we are plunked into the middle of an Arctic solo survival adventure. Tis a simple synopsis, that is revealed in sparse, undramatic bits and bites: an airplane carcass, a set of fishing lines, a crank radio, a well-worn dirty parka, a stoic and silent lead.
Danish actor for all seasons and master of one (spoiler alert: winter), Mads Mikkelsen is this movie. He absolutely owns it. Well, his grim, wind-battered face does. With a dearth of dialogue, and only the monotonous grind of survival in a harsh desert expanse, "Arctic" moves at a glacial pace, slowly gathering momentum in what turns out to be a gripping thriller. Man versus nature, where nature is an unrelenting bully.
In what could have been a typical Hollywoody film scenario, "Arctic" achieves that rarified of cinematic accomplishments: a riveting, uncompromising tale of action and reaction, with meticulous, tedious pacing that feels chillingly real.
As blunt as everything seems, there is an underlying, unspoken inner conflict of a man perfectly capable of standing alone, suddenly nudged off his perch to venture into life changing, and possibly ending, decisions.
A polarizing film for sure, but those patient enough will be warmly rewarded.
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52 WORDS FOR LOVE
THE L WORD
john sekerka
More of a research project than a movie, "52 Words for Love" asks questions about the unanswerable: what is love?
By offering up a weekly synonym for love on her social network, Alice opens a can of complicated worms. Candid interviews reveal the wide scope of the love definition, and how it drives everyone on a daily basis. Quite timely this, as set in stone relationship standards have been obliterated in recent times. Pretty much everything is on and off the table. And men, who not so long ago were awkwardly, if not staunchly mum on the subject, are suddenly in on the discussion. This is all about relationships, how they develop, how they succeed, how they fail, how they flounder, how they grow, and how everyone involved, when prodded, sees their own unique dance.
In the end, nothing is really answered, but that was a given, other than that love is a personal, often ethereal thing, and deserves ongoing dissection.
Good luck.
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DESTROYER
GOOD COP DRUNK COP
john sekerka
Nicole Kidman is astonishing, and unrecognizable. A hard life's worth of eye baggage, desert cracked lips, permanent bed hair, and a staggering hangover gait, detective (barely) Erin Bell, formerly an undercover cop, is still smothered under those heavy, heavy covers.
She's a mess. A cold, lifeless mess. And she owns the screen.
A recent murder presses the rewind button on a series of unfortunate events, in which we get to see a young, ravishing Kidman, some horrific decisions, and eventually, after some puzzling but engrossing flashbacks, a final resolution.
And though the clever story does eventually come together, it is a tad disappointing. This film is more about Kidman's powerfully understated and totally haunting performance. Her broken body barely able to carry any weight, fuelled by what's left of her mind: a hazy cloud of regret, struggling to find some sort of redemption. Some sort of closure. Some . . . thing.
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ROMA
FAMILY AFFAIR
john sekerka
A spandex strongman pulls a car with his teeth.
A dude seduces his date with a naked martial arts demonstration.
A guy gets shot out of a canon, cartoon style.
Fear not, "Roma" is not a surrealist comedy about silly male behaviour. It's better.
After "Gravity" defying Hollywood, Alfonso Cuaron delivers an astonishingly moving ode to his youth, carefully stalking a family with a widescreen, smoky black and white lens. Endurance testing long, lava fluid, trance inducing, intoxicatingly delicious, cardiac arresting, "Roma" is the year's best movie. And it's not even close.
The anti-Hollywood action flick we all so desperately needed, Cuaron's masterpiece plays as a distant, voyeuristic, peek at complicated family strife in astonishingly realized 1970 Mexico. It's all moving photographs, long, panning, beautiful takes of life's ugliness, revolving around the generous glow of beloved maid Cleo. Yalitza Aparicio is an understated wonder in the lead, evoking a spectrum of summer sun warmth to horrific tragedy, with a minimum of dialogue. Simply fabulous. And fabulously simple.
At well over the dreaded two hour mark, "Roma" will test some impatient movie fuss-budgets, but once the spell takes hold, this movie won't let go. Cuaron tackles some hefty subjects - class, sex, political and relationship struggle - in a deftly subtle, background delivery. Watch locally, think globally.
If there's no big ass theatre around, project this stunning Netflix beauty on a wall for the full experience.
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THE HOUSE WITH A CLOCK IN IT'S WALLS
SMASHING PUMPKINS
john sekerka
With horror master Eli Roth stuffing the director's chair, there should be a foreboding dread throughout this totally innocent family fare. But it never develops. Which is quite the surprise. And that is good.
Witches and warlocks and haunted houses: the fantasy film marks are checked. A pre-teen orphaned misfit thrust into a magical kingdom battle of good versus evil in post war America, is on the menu here. And though it does slip into sappy territory, the movie with the long name works in that old fashioned Disney way.
The characters are over the top colourful. The sets are meticulously complex. The plot bounces along at a steady pace. And most importantly, Jack Black and Cate Blanchett are superbly snippy as adults in charge of our young hero. In spite of some silly CGI moments, like attacking jack-o'-lanterns, "The House With a Clock in It's Walls" works because of the strutting leads, obviously enjoying the freedom to have some fun on set.
Not great, but not bad.
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BILL MURRAY STORIES
IT JUST DOESN'T MATTER
john sekerka
Bill Murray is the Banksy of public performance art. He's a warm, wonderful oddball who just might crash your next event, however small, or insignificant, and instead of dominating the room from a celebrity perch, he just blends in. These life bombs of wedding pictures, kickball games and karaoke bars, are now the stuff of urban legend. Though with digital proof, they are just legend.
Why a Hollywood hotshot would chose to mingle with his audience, sometimes for hours, is the question documentarian Tommy Avallone tries to answer in this rather fine film. We see the famous grainy footage: Bill tending bar, Bill washing dishes at a party, Bill treating a stranger to World Series tickets, and we meet the giddy recipients of these pop-up moments.
As theories are bandied about, it becomes clear that there is something transcendently magical about these experiences, for everyone involved. Less about giving, and more about sharing, Murray's connections are real, unscripted, joyous.
Tommy spends the whole of the movie tracking down the elusive movie star, culminating in an encounter which plays true to the spirit that Murray has cultivated.
Quite a lot of fun.
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THE SISTER BROTHERS
BEST WESTERN
john sekerka
John C. Reilly's giddy reaction to a flushing toilet, or his clumsy introduction to teeth brushing, are but a few of the little gems sprinkled throughout this Gold Rush western. Not technically a comedy, "The Sisters Brothers" has just enough tiny smile inducers mixed in with a languid pace and stark violence to rank among the best westerns of recent yore.
With Joaquin Phoenix, Riz Ahmed (both very good) and Jake Gyllenhall (excellent as a proper dandy with flowery language), we have an odd buddy-buddy vs. buddy-buddy road movie. Jacques Audiard directs directly from the Coen Brothers school of clever period pieces, starting the show with an after dark, distant gun battle, that's as mysterious as it is beautiful.
The line between good and bad guys is in flux, but Audiard knows how to elicit sympathy towards the Brothers, even as the ruthless hit men set about their messy business. "The Sisters Brothers" is a beautifully shot epic, with some charming performances, an intriguing Gold Rush plot line, and a sensitive dip into the complicated brotherly pool.
Strike!
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MATANGI / MAYA / M.I.A.
TAMIL TIGRESS
john sekerka
Never mind the wardrobe malfunction, there's the The Super Bowl finger!
In a world where most pop stars' dabbling in politics is of a perfunctory, often naive nature, there exists a few explosive artists who really are game changers. Unfortunately, many are often disregarded as self-serving alarmists.
As a Sri-Lankan refugee, the transplanted Brit M.I.A has been tireless in fighting for the Tamil people seeking independence back in her homeland. With a father who co-founded the revolutionary Tamil Tiger movement, her's is more than just a privileged outsider connection.
Mixing pop and politics is also what this jumpy documentary is all about. Before music became her weapon (both intellectually and on the dance floor), video was M.I.A.'s vocation, and this film takes full advantage of a lifelong grainy footage trove to tell the complex story. The results are a mixed bag, but effectively show the growth of a spirited, young radical into world famous persona, with many of her victories, and missteps along the way. It's an engrossing doc, and must viewing for anyone wanting a well rounded look into what M.I.A., and her passionate struggle is all about. At the very least, it'll increase the Google activity on a much overlooked part of the world.
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MY GENERATION
YEAH BABY!
john sekerka
Turns out the crumbling of crusty upper class Britain was engineered by a bunch of long haired art hooligans who made dreary old London swing with a rainbow of colours. And who better to flashback to the mid-sixties than Michael Caine?
Don't answer that, just see the movie.
With a bevy of jovial (off screen) interviews, Caine reminisces revolution with old pals McCartney, Daltrey, Twiggy and Marianne. The stories are great, and we are treated to some primo era footage, but it all rests on Caine's ample shoulders. As a Cockney in a princely movie industry, he helped usher in the working class bloke as a screen presence. A significant moment, aligned with the rock and roll explosion, contemporary art and fashion waves, it signalled a way out of the stodgy career paths previously devoid of any detours.
More of a history lesson than exploitation flick, a classy bit of cinema this.
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TULIPANI
DUTCH TREAT
john sekerka
To tell a tall tale, the Italians speak loudly, with much exaggeration, and accompany themselves eagerly with fast moving hands. Subtlety is not on the menu.
A rather wild and wooly story, "Tulipani" is told from several points in time, which proves a tad confusing at first, but soon enough, once the audience is priorly strapped in, congeals into a starchy, pasta water whole. We start in Canada, travel back to Holland, but everything really happens in a small Italian town. Locales and languages shift on a slippery dime, which adds to the fun craziness of this engrossing fairy tale of true romance.
Gauke, a stoic, heroic Dutch man's man winds up bringing much more than just tulips to a folksy village in desperate need of saving. The loopy plot unfolds from the very colourful memory of the local tavern owner, which takes it into a foggy, grey area. Who knows how things actually went down, but it sure is fun when guided by an old fashioned, wide-eyed story teller.
Over the top? Entertaining? Whimsical? Cliched? Silly? Big-hearted? Unbelievable? You betcha.
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MANDY
CAGE UNLEASHED
john sekerka
It's something to see alright: the unbridled thespian explosion of Hollywood's unclosetted weirdo: Nicolas Cage.
Not to be confused with the sleepy seventies couch rock anthem by Barry Manilow, "Mandy" is in fact, a volcanic revenge movie bathed in various hues of blood. After being done wrong, Cage rages a one man war against a bizarre satanic sect. That's the plot. No need for anything else. It's all Cage, all the time. And it is glorious.
Sometimes it's best to keep things simple, and that, this is. We all know what's coming, and it's coming like a red hot locomotive careening off the tracks, crazy eyes bulging, teeth grinding to powder, heavy metal music melting, primal screams a howling. This may be Cage's greatest achievement since he left Las Vegas, in an over the top, b-movie, trippy, one dimensional, kinda way.
Nic is back, and everyone best stay clear.
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SCOTTY AND THE SECRET HISTORY OF HOLLYWOOD
PIMP MY RIDE
john sekerka
So apparently there was a steady line of randy Hollywoodsters taking advantage of a hedonistic drive-thru emporium at the local gas station. Wow. An effervescent and constantly smiling nonagenarian hustler Scotty Bowers says so. And the facts do too.
The sheer number of A-list stars and starlets named, and their varied sexual preferences sounds shocking even by today's unshockable standards. But when presented so matter-of-factly, and with such fondness by the charismatic Scotty Bowers, it all seems perfectly alright.
Seems there was more to the post war than just a baby boom. Waiting to protect their secrets, Scotty finally published his racy memoirs after his customers had passed, and now much of it is documented in this film. When asked if outing someone posthumously is kosher, Scotty asks, "what's wrong with being gay, baby?" Indeed.
Besides an endless stream of tabloid fodder tales, this documentary focuses on a very complex character. Someone whose free formed attitude towards sex is at both times bewildering and very refreshing, has a crackerjack memory and lust for life as he approaches the century mark, but also shows hints of hidden sadness. Scotty is a complicated man, who has lived a wild life, made many people very happy, but seems to be missing something. ... Baby.
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KING COHEN
IT'S STILL ALIVE
john sekerka
A lifelong (anti) Hollywood hustler, Larry Cohen relishes recounting some of the fabulous tales that make up his subversive career. And what a career!
As a prolific writer, Cohen penned scripts for numerous television (remember television?) shows in the sixties (The Fugitive!), and soon the big screen bug bit, and Larry succumbed. Perturbed at losing creative control to others, Cohen began a string of independent films with a gonzo attitude and a very tight wallet, berthing such B-movie classics like "Bone" (aka: "Dial Rat for Terror"), "Q: The Winged Serpent" and "It's Alive". Even though those movies are quite, uh, unique, there's no denying the spirit of their cinematic father.
Cohen often worked directly on location, with no permits, using the unsuspecting public during his guerilla shoots, adding a decidedly unpredictability wow factor to many of his wildly uneven films.
"King Cohen" takes a fanboyish documentary peek at one of Hollywood's true, overlooked treasures. Glowing accounts from bigwigs like Martin Scorsese and J.J. Abrams, are interspersed with fond filming recollections from actors Michael Moriarty and Fred Williamson, but most importantly is Larry himself, who remains a crackerjack trove of crazy ideas. Well worth the watch.
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WE THE ANIMALS
BOYS WILL BE MEN
john sekerka
Jonah is nine, he is wild, but most importantly, he is wild-eyed. One third of a brother blur, he romps through a frenetic life of unleashed youth in a carefree universe, documenting his dreams in a secret art journal.
Sounds idyllic, but It is all bittersweet. Ugly family strife turns their meagre but manageable world upside down, and how the brothers deal with their sudden ordeal shapes the movie. Filmed with a colourful lens, whether soaking in the backwoods greens, or the purple hue of a fat lip, "We The Animals" doesn't shy away from unsettling topics, but also lingers on simple beauty.
As a first timer on the big screen, Evan Rosado absolutely owns his complex morphing role of discovery. Still just a poor kid who plays in the dirt, draws a fantasy world, lives in the moment, Jonah's life is moving fast and unfortunately, there's growing up to do.
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POOR BOY
TRASH BROTHERS
john sekerka
This is a dirty movie, well, dusty may be more appropriate. Brothers Samson and Romeo are introduced trying unsuccessfully to sell back a lawnmower they just stole from an ex. The cops have more trouble trying to hold back the pipe wielding woman than making what should be a routine arrest. This is the arid South, where everyone is scrambling for something, and most folks are dirty.
Our small time hoods have small time dreams, but even those they can't seem to get right. Subsisting in a desert trailer, the duo scheme and scam their days away in hopes of some far fetched pay day, which will take then to California. There's a bit of Grapes of Wrath tumbleweeding through this jerky plot line, capturing present day down and outs and the choking bleakness of their existence.
"Poor Boy" does little justice to several juicy characters in favour of the brothers connection, but that is where the film ultimately succeeds: with the unflinching bond only blood can provide. Lou Taylor Pucci and his strokeable beard is fabulous as the domineering yet utterly misguided big brother, to Dov Tiefenbach's silent but tenaciously game sibling.
It's a gloriously character study and not much more. But sometimes that's all ya need.
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EIGHTH GRADE
GUCCI!
john sekerka
Gucci, Kayla's YouTube signature sign off means "it's all good". Which it's not. How can it be? Kayla (the terrific Elsie Fisher) is thirteen and plowing through early teen traumas that don't exist in any other world. She is riddled with acne, an awkwardly changing body, a hovering dad, social media pressures, and a debilitating shyness. Loneliness is universal, but the middle school version can be devastatingly paralysing.
Scripted and directed by Bo Burnham, "Eighth Grade" is not the comedy expected from such a manic source. Oh there's plenty of laughs, but most are of the painful variety, some of the relief variety, and only a few of the generic funny variety. This is a very serious movie, even if it is only seems so from Kayla's point of view. Mundane life bumps are Mount Everest climbs, full of horrific, tension-filled drama punctuated with explosive electronic music blasts. A pool party? Holy crap! Message received, loud and clear.
In spite of obvious cinematic techniques carefully orchestrated to lure a willing audience, this movie really triumphs with a striking realism as we get inside Kayla's realistically uncomfortable skin. Like "Boyhood", it sharply captures defining life moments with an ugly-beauty reverence all too rare for Hollywood.
The best thing you'll see in quite a while.
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AMERICAN ANIMALS
THE BOOK THIEVES
john sekerka
True story this, though the quartet of perpetrators of the most audacious literary crime have trouble keeping their story straight. That's part of the fun in recreating a 2004 Kentucky teenage heist: having the now grown ups involved, recount the events, separated by distance from each other, and time from the deed.
"American Animals" seems too goofy for fact, but as usual, fiction loses out in the strange category. Spencer, Warren, Eric and Chas, (yes Chas), are privileged white boys getting their feet wet at University, itching for the action adult life has promised, which of course, is lacking.
Solution: robbery! Seems the campus library has a twelve million dollar book, and the only obstacle is an elderly librarian. Seeing their fair share of heist movies, the greedy group hatch an elaborate plan to snatch a big bird book from the poorly guarded nest. Convoluted schematics are drawn up. Maquettes are constructed. Ridiculous disguises are made. This is the thrill of their lives, and makes for irresistible film.
Evan Peters as the excitable and sketchy Warren, owns his delicious role, especially when steering the reluctant dreamer Spencer (Barry Keoghan) to the point of no return. Even better are their real counterparts, as they contemplate on the events, and each other, fourteens years on. It's an ingenious bit of movie magic, that could not have been scripted better.
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DEADPOOL 2
A-HA!
john sekerka
Two hours of trash talkin' the Marvel Universe makes for irresistible cinema. The bloated comic book film industry deserves the potty-mouthed, anti-hero attack that only Deadpool can deliver. And yes, tis a hard act to follow after the hilarious shock treatment of the original, but lo and behold, there's enough fresh funny for a sweet sequel.
As our leading disfigured man, Ryan Reynolds riffs profanity puns at machine gun fire pace, wooing the audience by repeatedly smashing the fourth wall. A crowded cast of secondary characters pop up, but it is on Deadpool that this vehicle depends. And he delivers.
Not as great as the original, but then what could be? #2 is still irresistible eye candy for Marvel fans, and casual thrill seekers in search of something fresh.
This is not grand movie making, various plot lines exist solely for the punch lines, but who can complain when they are this good? Even the sappy romance angle is a clever ploy to reference the 1985 boffo video hit "Take On Me". A-ha!
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BORG VS. MCENROE
WHAT THE DEUCE?
john sekerka
The supposed gentleman's game, tennis is full of volcanic characters. Competitive singles is an exasperating exercise in strategic warfare: the closest one gets to physical chess. With very little distinguishing the top players in athletic ability, it all comes down cerebral strategy.
Perhaps the ultimate clash of mental racket gods, the 1980 Wimbledon final, is finally depicted in film. Icebergian cool, super Swede Bjorn Borg clashes with the hot-headed, foul-mouthed American brat John McEnroe, in a gruellingly inhumane best of five sets match, on slippery grass, in front of British royalty drowning their strawberries and cream, with sugary tea.
Sports movies are always an iffy proposition, but Borg vs. McEnroe gets it right. Not only is Sverrir Gudnason a dead ringer for Borg, he totally nails his obsessive mannerisms, and most importantly, brings the mystery man to life. Irrational nutbar actor Shia LaBeouf as the irrational nutbar tennis star John McEnroe, is the obvious lure here, but instead the focus is mainly on the secretive, brooding, misunderstood Borg.
It's a relief to see excellent action sequences not marred by dodgy stand ins, and awkward editing. Also: retro short shorts and white tennis balls. This is a great tennis movie, and a pretty good movie movie.
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THE ENDLESS
WHAT'S UP?
john sekerka
Grown but down on their mundane life brothers, decide to revisit their childhood UFO death cult for some closure. Bad idea right? Well, not if you're making a movie, then it is an absolutely kickass, brilliant idea.
Indie filmsters Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead, write, direct and star in this terrific slow burner, which like all conflagrations, rage out of control at a thrilling, exponential pace once all the elements come together.
What appears to be a reluctant older brother keeping the Kool Aid away from his susceptibly eager sibling plot line, suddenly spirals into a mysterious vortex of wavy dimensions. Sounds blockbustery, but somehow the adept work of a small budgeted crew. Lots of twists and imaginative surprises make this a heckuva joyride.
What's up? Good question. Anyone in need of an escape from the daily grind with an addictive dose of clever confusion, step right up.
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LOWLIFE
PULP FRICTION
john sekerka
Life is tough for a down on his luck Mexican wrestling masked hero. Crime fighting doesn't really pay, so El Monstruo is relegated to thug duty. The conflicted good guy is a complex character, eager to carry on his family tradition (daddy was a famous luchador), but with a baby on the way, he stoops to henchman duties for local crime boss Teddy to pay the bills, usually with uncontrollably violent results.
That's plenty for plot, but this film throws in a heaping helping of parallel story lines for a rather convoluted viewing experience. Major events are replayed through different characters, and alternate angles, resulting in some much needed clarity, as everything comes together nicely, and not so nicely in the end.
The very seedy side of L.A. is the backdrop here, where illegals are funnelled towards horrific futures as prostitutes, or donors for a lucrative organ harvesting operation, or both. Grisly, old school gore movies are referenced as is some of Tarantino's spicier moments, but "Lowlife" works best on it's own originality: tackling very big global topics with local struggles.
"Lowlife" struggles from the usual low budget issues, mainly uneven performances - Teddy is too wooden - but the clever, spiderweb tale, wild sequences, and quirky characters make up for it: here's a newly released convict with a full face Swastika tattoo, who is refreshingly likeable. No, really.
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ISLE OF DOGS
FETCHING
john sekerka
Must be hell working for Wes Anderson, the obsessive, compulsive movie maker who carefully sculpts each and every frame, and meticulously fills it with excruciating detail. Thankfully most of us are in the audience instead, which means a totally opposite, enjoyable experience.
As with all past efforts, "Isle of Dogs" is a staggering visual feast, and because this is animation (a stop motion, retro futuristic, Japanese one), it is chock full of exquisite canvasses, complex graphics, and stunning originality. It's easy to get caught up in the eye candy, but what is truly revelatory here is the stunning audio that envelops the theatre. Remember all that fuss about surround sound? Well, we finally have proper use, and with several instances - a fabulous drumming sequence, and a haunting dog howling - it is glorious.
Oh there's a story as well, which is the usual, meandering vehicle that strings together all the fun bits, and is perhaps the most traditional of Anderson's jaggedy plot lines. Plus it's full of dogs. Superb.
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MADAME
MAIDEN VOYAGE
john sekerka
The class chasm movie never gets old, but neither does it ever grow young.
Madame has all the chess players in place for a juicy moral tale, bringing a refreshing outsider into a snooty rich circle. As the awkward but loveable maid forced into a stuffy dinner charade, Rossy De Palma warms her nerves with wine, and inadvertently becomes the belle of the ball. The lie grows out of hand, and we have plot.
As the manipulative hostess to the jet set, Toni Collette is insufferably fantastic in her queen bitch role, the perfect villain to our cheery servant, but this really is De Palma's movie from the get go. Harvey Keitel is here somewhere, but is unfortunately wasted.
The escalating conflict is quite delicious if not by the numbers predictable, though in a surprising twist - spoiler alert: the ending will now be discussed - not really resolved. The conclusion appears ambiguous, or at least open to multiple deductions (I would argue De Rossa's subtle smirk says it all). This has caused a bit of a fire storm amongst viewers demanding a neat and tidy resolution. Hoo and rah.
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THE DEATH OF STALIN
QUIT STALIN
john sekerka
The death of a ruthless dictator is often followed by total chaos, usually not of the funny variety. Except here. Here it's quite funny.
Too early? Shouldn't be after all this was 1953, but the atrocities of the Soviet state were indeed, quite brutal. Thus the fine line balancing act begins. Armando Iannucci has bitten deep into political farce with Veep, The Thick of It, and In The Loop, but this is on another level altogether.
As the masses are being rounded up and flippantly disposed of, the heads of state quibble nonsensically over tedious issues whilst plotting their personal power trips. Portraying eventual successor (spoiler) Nikita Krushev, Steve Buscemi is fabulously frazzled and slyly devious, but it is the truly vitriolic performance of Simon Russell Beale as the vile Lavrentiy Beria that steals the show. It's not easy to dip below the slimy levels of Stalin's henchmen, but Beale accomplishes the creepy feat with Shakespearian vigour. Too bad not all of the cast, especially the usually adept Jeffrey Tambor, can't keep up.
To the film's credit, the great purge is not a mere backdrop to the Marx Brothers style frivolity, but a harsh companion. Torture and executions mix with all the bumbling. Risky, and perhaps the reason for steering the comedy away from physical to verbal. A bit of an unfilled tease with Monty Pythoner Michael Palin along for the ride, but so be it.
Bet Vladimir Putin's not in any hurry to catch this one.
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MOM AND DAD
RAGIN' CAGE
john sekerka
In a full on, mid-life crisis explosion, Nicolas Cage gleefully takes a sledge hammer to his mancave pool table whilst singing "The Hokey Pokey". Sold!
Besides featuring the much anticipated comeback of a generational thespian master, "Mom and Dad" deliver the year's best horrordy, and the most delicious guilty trip any parent could ever hope for. We all know mom and dad wanna kill their kids, but here MOM AND DAD REALLY WANNA KILL THEIR KIDS!
Sure, sure, there's not much depth to this one trick pony, but boy oh boy does it ever kick up a storm. Silly genre flicks don't need to enlighten, just as long as they entertain. The best of cult cinema, has some crazy horror angle, snark comedic bits, uncluttered acting, swell photography, and most of all, giddy action. Check, check, check, check, and . . . check.
This cinematic carnival goes down much like neon coloured candy floss: totally irresistible, injects a strange chemical rush, and leaves everyone a little queasy.
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EVERY DAY
DAILY SCRUB
john sekerka
Forget polygamy, hows about dating someone new every day? Well, the same someone who happens to inhabit a different skin upon waking. Great premise for a movie, so here we are.
"Every Day" is one of those giddy teen fantasies riding on a boffo, supernatural twist, that attempts to handle a crazy concept in a serious manner. And it kinda works. Works because the topics at hand - relationships, diversity and why we love - are universal enough to carry a twilight zone scenario.
What could have been a comedic mess, or a ridiculous sci-fi drama, instead turns out to be a charming, clever little film, delivering a table full of food for thought. Sure it gets a bit sappy at times, but the tissue industry needs the support.
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BLACK HOLLOW CAGE
GROUNDHOG NIGHT
john sekerka
Pretty good repeating time travel premise mystery that never quite gets it right.
It's the old "would you kill Hitler in retrospect?" scenario, except without Hitler. Something's definitely wrong here. People have been hurt. People have died. People will die. "Black Hollow Cage" is a dark, moody, seether of a film, that bends an original linear tale with subsequent plot twists. It is clever, perhaps a bit too much for its own good.
There is a father, a cold, meticulous gent. There is a daughter, a proper girl with explosive teen rages. There is a house, an architectural marvel of glassy modernity in the middle of a bush. There is an odd black box that cranks up the sci-fi angle. And there are a couple of visitors, sketchy and unsettling. Oh and a talking dog. Did I mention the talking dog? There's a talking dog.
The looping begins, history is revealed, and an inevitable conflict arises. All this is played out in careful steps, brooding cinematography, and a creepy soundtrack. "Black Hollow Cage" just needs a better, tighter bow on the final present to wrap everything up, and to explain the talking dog.
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PERMISSION
WAIT, WHAT?
john sekerka
Long term, exclusive couple test their relationship by sleeping around! What could go wrong? Plenty of course, but "Permission" is more than a quirky, guilty pleasure premise. Heck it's not even a comedy.
As our adorable love birds take their first baby steps outside of their cage, there is, dread, apprehension, fear, but mostly there is excitement. How Anna and Will deal with their suddenly evolving world is decent fodder for a serious movie, yet it is another couple that steals the show. Anna's baby craving brother and his reluctant boyfriend offer up a better plot line. Sometimes juicy don't cut it.
This really is a tale of two couples, and unravelling the daily intimacy and neurosis of both relationships, with some terrific performances, is where "Permission" works best. It's a messy film with a whole lot goin' on, but manages to entertain while posing some interesting questions.
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THE ROAD MOVIE
RUSSIAN HOUR
john sekerka
Could there be a more stereotypical look at the crazy Motherland than through a compilation of dashcam videos? Nope, and Dmitrii Kalashnikov, besides owning a kickass name, assembles a bucketful of OMG LOL snippets.
What elevates The Road Movie to actual movie status (and not just a throw away video mash up) is the rhythm, the pacing, and the brilliant commentary. Everyone's familiar with Youtube pavement fails, but when augmented with deadpan, often hilarious commentary (rough translation adds to the effect), the results are mesmerizing.
The Russians are a weird lot, and here's seventy (minutes) proof. Whether following a comet on the horizon, battling a persistent loony on the windshield, or calmly shooting a car to end a road rage incident, The Road Movie has just the right amount of comedic crazy and startling shock to remain watchable past the usual interweb span. You can't look away, again, again, and again.
Zazdarovje.
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MONOLITH
KNIGHT RIDDANCE
john sekerka
Cool car movie alert. Ok, so there goes half the audience, but wait, there's a young mother at the wheel. Welcome back everyone.
Actually, the car in question, the Monolith, is a bit of an unsexy black SUV tank. The ultimate safety and protection transportation tech device, with total auto driving capabilities. Kinda like a panic room on wheels. What could go wrong?
Plenty as it turns out, as not long after introductions we have a major woman vs. machine conflict. Sounds juicy, but unfortunately the execution fails to meet the setup. Mom is out of her element, er Monolith while her little toddler is locked inside. Hoo boy, wait till the mother in law hears about this.
How all this plays out is rather pedantic, with none of the necessary hair raising chills or nervous comedic moments such a story should deliver. Neat idea, but not much more, and Stephen King's "Christine" already nailed this premise long ago.
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MY FRIEND DAHMER
SPAZ
john sekerka
Not a comedy. I repeat, this is not a comedy.
Also of note for the squeamish set: no serial killing here, just the seemingly mundane life of a high school misfit. Jeffery Dahmer is a mopey, four-eyed moptop, shuffling through adolescence, dealing with a fractious household in the bland and brown seventies.
Of course we all know how this plays out, and that ominous shadow creates a vicious tension throughout this excellently unsettling film. Collecting and dissolving road kill in his makeshift shed lab, is certainly cause for concern, but it is Dahmer's awkward interactions with his peers, family, and authority figures, that bring the shivers. We know there is an explosion coming, but we just don't know how or when.
Based on a graphic novel by a high school chum, "My Friend Dahmer" focuses on the usual tribulations of teenagers searching to belong. Either bullied (nasty) or ignored (worse), Dahmer gains a strange semblance of attention by spazzing out in school. If fake epileptic convulsions means popularity, then so be it.
Former Disney star Ross Lynch brings a perfect blend of desperation and dread to the complicated lead. He has issues, but what outcast teen doesn't? Among his many quirks, Dahmer's seemingly innocuous interest in a neighbourhood jogger (a running theme throughout) is one hell of a creepy sequence, even though nothing comes of it. We see a series of small events that may point to the evolution of a monster, or to a weirdo biology major. There's a fork in this road!
This all foreplay movie succeeds brilliantly because it plays the audience, who for once, are itching to spoil the ending.
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SWEET VIRGINIA
SOUR NORTH
john sekerka
Problem with small towns is everybody leaves 'em. Thus small town stories tend to be based on romanticized memories (be it good or bad) from the point of city slickers. And since most folks reside in giant metropolises, it becomes difficult to pronounce judgement on this evaporating way of life.
Sweet Virginia is one such film beast. It is both good and bad. A good film, about bad people, but chiefly it is about America.
Set in murky Alaska, but filled with soft, southern accented characters, it takes place in a tiny, forgotten place, where people struggle for money, hide their histories, wear baseball caps, drive pickups, move at a snail's pace, and settle their matters in a violent fashion.
At the centre of a nifty noire tangle is an uncomfortable buddy-buddy relationship between an aw-shucks former rodeo star trying unsuccessfully to live a low-key life as a motel owner, and a troubled, snaky hit man. Jon Bernthal is terrific as the reluctant good guy, who innocently befriends the dark stranger in town - a perfectly tense and edgy Christopher Abbott. We know this won't end well, but that is not the point. This is less about the resolution and more about the journey.
"Sweet Virginia" dares to peek under the covers of a sleepy place rampant with familiarity but teeming with excruciating loneliness. One that usually keeps it's secrets well buried. Usually.
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THELMA
BEWITCHY
john sekerka
Norwegian film maestro Joachim Trier sure knows how to cast a spell.
"Thelma" is a freshwoman on campus, experiencing the tentative flings of adulthood freedom, attempting to cut ties with her helicoptering parents, engaging in the forbidden fruit of self-discovery, and experiencing some orgasmic seizures to accompany her supernatural visions. Whew. Sounds cluttered, but tis not.
Trier unravels his gorgeous gothic tale with chilling deliberation, wringing suspense out of calm passages, cinematic vistas, shadowy closeups, and sprinkling small reveals like breadcrumbs for the audience to find their way home.
A bit of Hitchcock, a bit of "Carrie", a bit of Bergman, "Thelma" is a beautifully brooding piece of film tension littered with several stunning visuals. It is to die for.
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BAD LUCKY GOAT
GOAT CROSSING
john sekerka
You know it's gonna be a long day after a truck meets goat accident. Faced with a damaged family vehicle and an ex goat, sparring siblings Corn and Rita set off on a series of misadventures in an ill fated attempt to avoid the inevitable parental retribution.
Silly plot detours and unpolished acting chops cannot derail this little charmer of a film. Floating on the vibe of the warm ocean breeze locale, "Bad Lucky Goat" has the backward innocence of a not so affluent island paradise, where everyone knows everyone, life moves slowly, and the little things are really big things.
Brimming with colourful characters, colourful language (a charming Patois mix), colourful music, and colourful scenery, this is one feel good rainbow flick totally worth a quick watch.
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SUBURBICON
DRINK YER MILK
john sekerka
Pretty, pretty, pretty good.
Not sure why there is so much vitriol aimed at this film, cuz it sure is a fine piece of cinema.
Berthed from a Coen Brothers script, adapted, directed, and enhanced by George Clooney, "Suburbicon" is a classy thriller sprinkled with bizarre comedic flourishes. It is beautifully filmed, impeccably capturing the plasticky fifties suburban sheen: sweet chromed cars, hair salonned women, and well mannered interactions. But there is trouble in paradise, and it is ugly.
This is a tale of two cities: one in which a black family moves into the neighbourhood and faces the consequences of outlandish racism, and the other which shows a seemingly swell white family beset by tragedy. They are neighbours, and their horrific stories play out side by side.
Clooney is smart enough to borrow heavily from the Coen Brothers in filmmaking 101, creating a colourful movie filled with escalating tension, terrific performances, witty dialogue, and several silly moments.
Not sure why this has been universally panned. Julianne Moore is perfect in a taxing dual role. Matt Damon shows a new complexity to his previously one-dimensional acting arsenal. George Clooney directs a mystery tangle with great aplomb that just looks great. This should be another feather in the cap of the Weinstein production company, ...ooh.
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LUCKY
GOODBYE HARRY
john sekerka
If ever there was a deserving send off for a grand actor, then this be it.
As "Lucky", the cantankerous but loveable old sole, shuffling his way out of this mortal coil, Harry Dean Stanton is, as always, remarkable.
Striding with purpose, very slowly, through a very regimented daily routine - diner coffee, crossword, game shows, cactus watering, smokes, drinks at the local watering hole - Lucky is revealed as a complex, always thinking, opinionated, ready to drop the gloves, 91 year old.
There are several great performances, highlighted by David Lynch bemoaning the escape of his pet tortoise, but the film really belongs to Harry. Swiping some great real life histories (Stanton's stint with the Navy) blurs the line between fact and fiction just enough to act both as a fitting tribute and engrossing movie on it's own merit. This is a talkie, where action moves at a tortoise pace, but it matters not, for Lucky has that rare power to draw the audience right on in.
Among the many low key but brilliant highlights, is a stirring scene to which Johnny Cash sings Bonnie Prince Billie's "I See a Darkness".
Harry Dean Stanton was indeed Lucky.
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THE LIMEHOUSE GOLEM
BARELY RIPPED
john sekerka
While many will revel in the gloriously lush presentation, "The Limehouse Golem" plays too much as a clever theatre piece, rather than a peek behind your hands thriller. This would-be serial killer horror film, suffers from endless self-inflicted stylish blows: it is costumed, staged and acted to death. But what a beautiful demise it is.
Leave it to Juan Carlos Medina (directing) and the Brits (acting) to bring forth such a grandiose, poetic, cinematic feast. Channeling his best Hammer era Peter Cushing, Bill Nighy as the anxious yet calmly methodical Scotland Yard inspector is exceptional, and almost elevates the film to a level it so deserves.
There just isn't enough grit and shock for the series of heinous crimes to get any juice flowing; even the gory corpses are presented as carefully arranged, colourful still lifes. Dialogues are poetic and rigid, simple scenes are meticulously choreographed, sets are lavished, wardrobe is wildly bombastic. It is a wonderfully lush, over the top feast for the senses, that lacks proper plot delivery to create a deserving fog of mystery.
There's a nice, rewarding, twisty tale under all that distracting sheen, though it requires much work from the viewer.
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IT STAINS THE SANDS RED
FETCH
john sekerka
Hey kids, it's post apocalypse zombie b-movie time!
Just when ya think the living dead well has run completely dry, another twist on the very tiring, tiresome and tired subject matter comes to the local drive thru, er in. "It Stains The Sands Red" doesn't really live up to the ominous, gore foreshadowing title. Sure there's an early ketchuppy scene, but for the most part this is a remake of that old Bing Crosby, Bob Hope buddy buddy crossing the desert vehicle - without the homoerotic tension.
We have Molly, the coke snorting stripper in ridiculous heels traipsing across death valley (a better name for the movie) with a very persistent but slow zombie in tow. They bond, in a master slash puppy manner, with the added excitement that puppy wouldn't mind biting the hand that feeds him.
It's a terrific premise, and looks fabulous on the widescreen, but the stumbling blocks of typical b-movie limitations (low budget, hammy acting, plot holes) is too much to overcome. Zombie faithful will probably enjoy it, but for the rest I say:
Enough with the zombies already!
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THE VILLAINESS
KICKASSASSIN
john sekerka
This is a great movie. Then it's a lousy one. Then it's great again.
As opening action sequences go, there's not much that can top this visceral, first person carnage extended take. Our heroine/villainess zips through a building's claustrophobic maze, shooting, chopping and kickassing her way through endless waves of hapless henchmen (one henchman at a time of course). The action is tight, colourful, zippy, acrobatic and jaw-dropping awesome. Woo and hoo!
Unfortunately there is a convoluted plot to suffer through before an action finale almost as delicious as the opening salvo. Yes, yes, there must exist a reason for all the vengeful mayhem, but there are way too many curves thrown into what should have been a fairly straightforward recipe: a murder, a bad guy, and maybe one twist, that's it. Instead we have a Bourne trilogy squeezed into one film, complete with mysterious agencies, insufferable romantic interludes, and an exponential body count. Still there's no denying the sheer cartoony thrill of the inventive action sequences, and that's where the movie shines.
Kim Ok-bin is extraordinary as the ruthless kickassassin, especially when navigating a car from hood top, but oh so ordinary as a mundane love interest dealing with a sappy neighbour crush.
Ya can't have everything.
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INGRID GOES WEST
SOCIAL GIRL
john sekerka
So close, oh so close.
As an edgy, black comedy about a sympathetic but unbalanced internet stalker, "Ingrid Goes West" has all the pieces in place for cinematic gold. And for most of the duration, it gets it right. Aubrey Plaza as the mousy, cute yet conniving and vindictive Ingrid, is a character handful, morphing her desperate, klutzy loner self into a confident socialite.
Tricking an internet personality into a fabricated friendship, Ingrid's lies pile up quickly, and we know this can't end well. And though her methods are immoral, Ingrid is easy to cheer for as the outcast in search of acceptance. Using Social Media as a friendship platform is a brilliant stroke: it's all based on likes and follows and emojis. So what exactly is a friend these days? And who is real? "Ingrid Goes West" asks some very pertinent and timely questions.
Clever, but incomplete. Or at least a film that kinda loses it's way at the end, as the fibbing train derails, things turn dark, and when a killer ending is needed, a kind of sappy conclusion is inserted instead.
Oh well, still a pretty damn good film for the most part.
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BRIGSBY BEAR
FUZZY
john sekerka
The fish out of water scenario never gets old - it's almost like they're in a barrel.
Place all SNL movie prejudices aside, this is one sweet flick well worth the screening. Current TV regular Kyle Mooney writes and stars in a deliriously charming story of James, a sheltered manchild taking baby steps in the real world, with the help of his childhood VCR fixation.
Brigsby Bear, a fictional character doling out life lessons amidst interstellar adventures, and the only friend to a clever, lonely boy, is actually much more than that. Not all is at it appears. This lifelong television obsession threatens what is deemed a normal existence once James is introduced to the real world, and we are off to the races.
Kyle Mooney is exceptional in a sweet, wide-eyed role, one that could easily fall flat in self-parody, but retains an honest innocence throughout. When serious, life-altering issues arise, tough answers are left on the table as James forges ahead with optimistic zeal on his magical journey, never wavering or falling into cliche realization or self doubt.
Yipee!
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THE GHOUL
LOOPER
john sekerka
Best pay close attention here, as not all is as it seems.
Twisty movies can be god fun, but as is the case with "The Ghoul", they can be quite unsettling. What starts out as a standard police drama slowly melts into an endless, dark, psychological journey, where everything is gradually turned upside down.
Not an easy watch, this: a dreamy, hallucinatory, moebius strip thriller with an agonizing performance from the spiralling lead (the excellent Tom Meeton). Filmed in dark, bleak confines, "The Ghoul" works, not in spite of it's micro budget, but because of it - relying on claustrophobic interaction from the players.
Fans of linear cinema need not apply, but those wishing for a jarring, thought-provoking experience will be rewarded.
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BABY DRIVER
ONE GEAR
john sekerka
Boo! ..... Booooo!
Bring it on. I can take it. Despite a plethora of gushing reviews, "Baby Driver" is not a great movie. Passable, but not great.
How can this be? Car chases, tricky heists, great cast, and director genius Edgar Wright at the helm. Surely this must be one helluva grand cinema going adventure? Well, it is, but only in very short spurts.
Cartoonish characters, good and bad, in any action flick worth it's salt lick, gotta have some, um, character. Something sorely lacking over here. Normally juicy actors Kevin Spacey, Jon Hamm and Jamie Foxx, are wasted in one dimensional, dry roles. Totally forgettable. Worst of all is newcomer Ansel Elgort, who fits the title profile - he can drive and has peach fuzz - but brings nothing to the table.
The opening scene is great: primo, clever four wheel and six barrel action with super cool tunes a blaring (Jon Spencer). Wright films style like no one else, but here, he forgets to pepper the thing with substance. "Baby Driver" is a coupla hours of drivin' and shootin'; nothing more than an average video game offers.
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THE BAD BATCH
BURNING WOMAN
john sekerka
Hoo boy. This movie requires some effort. What starts off as a brutal exploitation flick, surely to weed out the meek, evolves into an absorbing treatise on primal human conditions in a barren, deserted wasteland.
While Ana Lily Amipour's sophomore effort contains pulpy roots, littered with outrageous characters and circumstances, it also tackles some grand topics. Our white trashy heroine Arlen is unceremoniously turfed out of society to fend for herself behind a Texan fence, where lawlessness and depravity are the rule of the day. She is soon captured by a tribe of cannibals, and mayhem ensues.
Dystopian futures as these don't seem all that far fetched any more. "The Bad Batch" may serve as a warning, but chiefly it serves as dusty entertainment. Much like the "Mad Max" franchise, it is a world full of crazies scrambling to survive in glorious sunbaked vistas.
Sporting a primo porn stash, Keannu Reeves pops up as a bizarro, robe clad cult leader. Giovanni Ribisi slips in several rambling, asylum escapee diatribes, but it is an unrecognizable Jim Carrey who absolutely steals the movie as a wizened bagman.
"The Bad Batch" has the art junk, lost inhibition, drug and music orgy feel of Burning Man, and because it's stealthily asking tough questions, has much more going for it than the cheap veneer may indicate.
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THE BIG SICK
COMA LUV
john sekerka
Halfway through this syrupy, heartwarming gushfest, Pakistani boyfriend wannabe tells an edgy 9/11 joke to the very white American father of his comatose love interest: "tragic, we lost 19 of our best men". Silence. There's enough of these gloriously awkward moments in "The Big Sick", to bring much needed levity to the very tired romcom Hollywood game.
Maybe because it's based on the pretty crazy life experiences of comedian Kumail Nanjiani, "The Big Sick" resonates better than most cookie cutter plots. Sure there's sparks, joy, conflict, and tears, but there's also religion, racism, and history. Best of all, there's great chemistry between the leads and the various convoluted familial web players.
Plus Holly Hunter. Yup, Holly Hunter is in this, and of course, she is fabulous. Almost steals the movie. Almost. In fact all the performances are great, including several juicy supporting roles.
Nothing can get in the way of Kumail and Emily's fabulous love story. Hilarious, charming, and sneaky smart.
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THE HERO
THE MOUSTACHE THAT ROARED
john sekerka
Lifetime character actor Sam Elliott was born to play this part, or perhaps this film was written specifically for Sam Elliott. Whatever the case, the big screen's most famous moustache finally lands a career changing role as a septuagenarian.
Once, and only once, Lee Hayden was a big screen cowboy presence. Now, now he gets by with voice overs for barbecue sauce. But oh what a voice. Real life parallels abound: Elliott is best known for small cameos, tv and commercial work, but is still a much loved and recognized celebrity.
As the ticker is about to roll 72, Hayden is given some terminally awful news, giving the ol' coot some pause to ponder a stalled career and failed family life. A December - May romance gets the ball rolling, as our hero sets out to make some amends.
What could have been a terribly sappy piece of fluff, is actually a lovely paced rumination on the very complicated topic of existence, with a wonderful, understated, and vulnerable performance from Elliott: Hollywood's new leading man.
Warning: guns are drawn, and poetry is read.
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CITY OF TINY LIGHTS
LONDON DICK
john sekerka
Private eyeing in present day Britain is a rough proposition. Guns are illegal, and then there's the whole immigration tension going on. Tommy Akhtar (wild eyed Riz Ahmed) is a typical, hard-drinking, tough talking, fistcuffing gumshoe with a heart of gold, trying to solve a missing Russian escort case whilst his very complicated past comes back to further cloud the perpetually rainy skies of London.
Ahmed is perfect in the lead, offering equal parts macho and empathetic soul; the gutsy dick able to take a beating, romance a good woman, and stand loyally by his loved ones.
"City of Tiny Lights" uses interesting political bents with religious, racial and drug tensions seething in the background, showing England for the explosive melting pot it truly is. Beautifully shot in wet, dark London, sparkling with Christmassy bokeh lights popping out of ominous shadows, this is one gorgeous looking film.
A little messy and cacophonic at times, this stab of celluloid is saved by a splashy, vibrant style that is pure eye candy.
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T2 TRAINSPOTTING
SEQUELICIOUS
john sekerka
Twenty years on and the lingo is still half penetrable at best. No matter, this is why the good lord invented subtitles: so's we can keep up with the Scots.
Sequels are dicey propositions, especially after such a long nap, but Danny Boyle's in charge, and he makes sure not to mess with a good thing. And "T2 Trainspotting" is indeed, a good thing. Our mangy quartet of Spud, Renton, Sick Boy and Begbie, have fermented quite nicely with time, retaining their youthful vitriol but now faced with the dread of middle age. Makes for a more complex series of mini plots, whilst retaining the vinegar and piss spirit of the inner children running about. As Begbie, Robert Carlyle steals the film with his ridiculous mix of comedy slapstick and scary sadistic sides, but all the characters have their moments.
Guilt, spotty money schemes, back-stabbings, betrayals and a tricky romantic triangle, bring the gang reluctantly back together again, for some whipsmart, stylish cinematic moments courtesy of Boyle.
Best of all, while T2 just looks and feels great, it also completes the dangling story lines of the original in a tidy, satisfying matter. Cheers.
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AWAKENING THE ZODIAC
TRAILER SLEUTHS
john sekerka
The real life, unsolved Bay Area Zodiac killer case gets a fictional exhumation four decades after the murderous spree, when a trio of junk collectors stumble upon canisters of incriminating film. This clever retro take on the YouTube crime clip phenomena presents our innocents with a chance at a $100,000 reward. And we're off.
For the most part, this is a terrifyingly terrific movie, full of creepy, shadowy scenes, hair-raising tension and clever comedic quips. Our trio of trailer trash Sherlocks are very engaging as they stagger into a complicated and dangerous world, not so much for possible riches, but also for adventure. Taunting cryptogram clues, a sinister hood, and creepy voice messages; the Zodiac put the "K" in killer.
Great stuff, but it is almost ruined with a messy, straight forward, by the numbers, uninspiring climax. Which in turn is then inexplicably thrown under the bus with an attempt at an open ended, confusing conclusion. It really does suffer from a proper wrap. "Awakening The Zodiac" needs a rewrite tweak focusing more on mystery than monster. Still a pretty good thrill ride.
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NORMAN: THE MODERATE RISE AND TRAGIC FALL OF A NEW YORK FIXER
MEH
john sekerka
In order to gain favour of a rising politician he is courting, Norman offers to buy him a pair of fancy shoes. The stealth bribe turns comical as Norman finally eyes the ridiculous four-figure price tag upon transaction. The nuanced shock, is quietly covered up with a secretly resigned, awkward purchase. Norman is Jewish, and even though he has successfully gained the trust of a very powerful man, he is deeply wounded by getting gouged.
Richard Gere of all people, pulls off this complex character with just the right mix of disdain and empathy. There is no backstory to Norman. There is no family to dote on. No home to go to. Nothing exists but the layers of clothes on his back, a bulging satchel, and the constantly ear-budded smart phone. Norman is an overeager pitchman, constantly on the move, chatting up everyone in his path, promising connections left, right and centre, and hustling his best to make good on his little white lies.
What a refreshing movie! It's all talk and no action. And it's the career film of the very surprising Gere, whose charmingly obnoxious Norman is easy to love and despise in equal doses, but oh so difficult to ignore.
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BUSTER'S MAL HEART
BUST A MOVE
john sekerka
As former Yankee catcher and accidental prophet Yogi Bera once uttered, "when you come to a fork in the road, take it"*. There's a crucial scene in this puzzling maze of a film, that borrows that classic Yogism*, helps explain some of the many parallel plot runs, yet leaves the door wide open for heated discussion. Easy answers be damned.
Wide eyed Rami Malek is hotel concierge Jonah, working alone, late nights, cleaning expansive rooms of various shades of brown. It's reminiscent of "The Shining". And like Jack Nicholson before him, Malek's character is quite complicated, with the line between reality and illusion basically a stretchy skipping rope.
"Buster's Mal Heart" is an adventurous, ambitious, challenging film, pushing boundaries with an improvisational flare, messing with traditional story structure to dig deep inside the mysterious human condition. Without a brilliant, terrifying, sympathetic and comedic performance from Malek, this film may not have worked at all. He dominates every scene, and is terrific, whether he's playing playing with his precocious daughter, or pooping into a kitchen pot.
Swell part about this engrossing, conspiratorial, head scratcher of a flick - apart from the ensuing, post-viewing dissections - is the sheer entertainment value, casting the lure for repeated viewings.
Bravo!
*yogisms
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HOUNDS OF LOVE
COUPLE OF MONSTERS
john sekerka
Great movie about horrific stuff. There ya go. Evelyn and John cruise Perth school yards, fishing for teenage girls with friendly Aussie banter and car ride offers. The pleasantries end right there.
As the secret predator couple in the neighbourhood, Emma Booth and Stephen Curry are spectacular in their complicated performances. Charming and congenial, slick and methodical, brutal and sadistic, vulnerable and suspicious; all bases are covered. "Hounds of Love" is about serial sexual homicide, and it is as brutal as that sounds. Not in an exploitative manner (most of the cruelty is off screen), but in its believable depiction of perversion, and the matter of fact execution by the monsters.
Sporting a cheesy moustache, Curry presents a tiny, unassuming wimp - he is humiliated and berated about money owing. Yet deep inside he is a tight wound ball of explosion, and the creepy manipulator of all crimes. Evelyn is a more than wiling accomplice, but she has a wounded past, shows some semblance of sympathy, and is thus the weak link in the monster couple. How all this plays out in the most recent triangle is expertly framed by newbie filmmaker Ben Young.
"Hounds of Love" is a difficult watch, but it's also difficult to ignore.
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JEREMIAH TOWER: THE LAST MAGNIFICENT
TOWER OF FOOD
john sekerka
The original celebrity chef, Jeremiah Tower is finally introduced via film to receive his due. Thanks to a biased push courtesy of present foodie king Anthony Bourdain (producing this doc and offering visceral cameos), "The Last Magnificent" is a bit of confusing celluloid.
It's all a very juicy story: the lonely rich boy, left to his own devices, becomes a revolutionary chef after his career in designing underwater housing is derailed. And that's just a mere sip of the nectar. Our chef is indeed a towering figure, transforming the culinary world with American Cuisine, and inventing the celebrity cook persona which he was born to berth and star in. Chez Panisse, Stars, Tavern on the Green: this is the glory trifecta of eateries, and Tower ran them all.
Food aside, there's much more to the delicious history here, which, unfortunately is handled clumsily at times. A stormy, love/hate relationship with Chez Panisse founder Alice Waters is touched on but left dangling, while footage of Tower wandering in sandals among Mayan ruins is used as contemplative segues.
His sudden retreat and decade long hibernation from the restaurant world, is never truly explained. As much as this film is chock full of glorious revelations, it is missing large pieces of the Tower puzzle. A pompous, arrogant, entitled, talented character who elicits both disdain and admiration with alarming frequency, the mythical Jonathan Tower remains a true enigma, and quite possibly, the next reality television star.
Intriguing, charming, exotic, insufferable and frustrating; Tower and film both.
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THE ART LIFE
ERASERHEADTRIP
john sekerka
Much like a David Lynch film, the documentary on said subject "The Art Life", mixes surreal tales, uncomfortable silences, and gorgeous photography.
Sure to befuddle many, this moody documentary concentrates on Lynch's visual art, barely touching on his filmmaking claim to fame. Revealed solely through his smoking words, "The Art Life" presents absorbing childhood recollections while Lynch creates his stark art pieces. It's beautifully shot, methodically paced, with a rather unsettling quality.
There is no external opinion to be had, as the film exists entirely in Lynch's world. We see him making art, talking art, pondering art, and then making more art. He is obsessed, focused, but friendly and charming, whether in the midst of molding a creepy canvas, groping his shock of white hair, planning his next canvas move in a cloud of smoke, or interacting with his tiny daughter. The mystery of Hollywood's extreme outsider remains deliciously intact.
Absorbing.
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FREE FIRE
WHAT COULD GO WRONG?
john sekerka
Guns are hilarious. Especially when John Denver's joyful country pop hybrid is emanating sweetly from the van's 8-track. Yup, this is Quentin Tarantino territory, and director Ben Wheatley has done his homework.
Filmed in glorious western-hued yellow-brown, "Free Fire" is a tense, late night gun deal gone wrong, pitting the itchy-fingered buyers against the itchy-fingered sellers, in a dusty warehouse shootout. As plots go, this is pretty pedantic. Sure there's a nice little twist here and there, but this film succeeds on the hilarious interaction of the many quirky characters.
Everyone gets shot, often several times, and treat their wounds as irritating inconveniences. Soon the warehouse is full of crawling, bitching wounded. Plenty of stars aside, this is Sharlto Copley's movie. As the slick polyester-suited, South-African accented arms salesman, Copley's cartoonish character steals every scene. With Cillian Murphy, Brie Larson and Armie Hammer crowding the cast, that is no small feat.
"Free Fire" may not be game changing cinema, but it is a slapsticky, wickedly clever, sensory hoot, and well worth your ninety minutes.
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WINDOW HORSES
STICKY SITUATION
john sekerka
Immigration tales couldn't be any more timely, so it is with good reason Ann Marie Fleming dusted off an old story to unfurl it in glorious animated colour.
A west coast Canadian of Chinese and Iranian heritage, Rosie Ming is a young poet enamoured with Paris. It's a bit of a cultural mess really. And when she receives an invite to a festival (her first), it opens a hallway of doors, and possible answers to many burning questions.
Raised by her Chinese grandparents, the thrilling mystery of Rosie's missing parents is soon revealed, as is her place in the world. The Western - Eastern - Muslim triangle is handled impeccably through Rosie's adventure, some well placed history lessons, and bouncy animation.
Yes it's a heart-tugging, feel good flick, but when told this well, goes over ever so swell, and it looks great on the big screen.
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DONALD CRIED
BACK TO THE PAST
john sekerka
Squirm.
Poor Peter. Years after successfully escaping his small-town for the big city, the dapper financier is forced to return to collect his grandmother's ashes. This leads to a very uncomfortable reunion. Peter has obviously moved on, literally and figuratively, but not his old neighbour pal Donald. Nope. Donald is still the same old high school hoser, super keen to rekindle the good old days.
It's a classic premise, that works well on a cringe, comedic level, as Peter, the desperate, reluctant hostage tries valiantly to escape the eager clutches of the oblivious Donald, who seems to be dealing with some disturbing baggage.
"Donald Cries" twists that old formula just enough to explore several deeper issues, and the film grows fuller as the characters reveal themselves.
Writer, director, star Kris Avedisian is quite the talent, and his take on the wide-eyed, gung-ho man-child Donald is a character for the ages.
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HELLO DESTROYER
HOCKEY NIGHTMARE IN CANADA
john sekerka
Damp, grey concrete hallways lit by flickering, greenish fluorescent tubes, are the sad and depressing norms of junior hockey league arenas everywhere. They are but a rudimentary channel for the mindless cattle to shuffle to the icy killing field.
As hockey movies go, this is no "Mighty Ducks". Filmed in dungeon hues, where nothing, and I mean nothing is ever presented in a good light, "Hello Destroyer" is a tough, brooding, slow, depressing slice of adolescent life, and perhaps, the most truthful film on the subject ever made. Anyone who's ever been privy to a dressing room screaming tirade from a demented coach will know.
There's very little spoken - only groaned and grunted - as is customary in the Canadian junior leagues that is littered with hopeful, but immature athletes. Scholastics are not high priority here. Sporting a prisoner of war hair crop courtesy of the customary hazing ritual, Tyson Burr is a tough rookie, elbowing his way into the macho club clique, and stumbling quietly and dutifully through the only life he knows.
Very few actually succeed at hockey, and Tyson's path is derailed quickly after an unfortunate on ice incident. Hung out to dry by his team, the sensitive teen's career, and life, now hang in the air.
"Hello Destroyer" pulls no punches in dissecting the ruthless nature of a win at all cost sport, the pressure of dead-end careers in small town Canada, and the harsh barriers in an old school family that struggles with communication.
A spellbinding and very important film.
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THE GIRL WITH ALL THE GIFTS
THE HUNGER
john sekerka
For the most part, Zombie movies suck. Their premise: that walking dead corpses who slither around at snail's pace, with very little left of any thinking capacity, can pose a problem to quick, healthy, smart humans, is frankly, preposterous. Without reproducing abilities, the "hungries" are really not much of a threat - you wait out one generation and presto: problem solved.
The trick to any relevant movie going experience is to draw the viewer in, and the only way to jump ridiculous plot holes is with exceptional smoke and mirrors movie making. "The Girl With All The Gifts" is all that, and so much more. Not only a heart pounding thrill ride, it posits a scenario that actually makes for suspense sense: that zombies can reproduce, and successive generations are evolving.
Melanie, a creepy, vulnerable and quite smart, hungrie girl is at the story centre, posing a possible solution for the dwindling human population. Scientist wants to dissect her. Soldier wants to kill her. Teacher wants to nurture her. This rag tag bunch on the run have depleting options in what could spell the boom or bust future of Earth. And in true, sci-fi kickass tradition, "The Girl With All The Gifts" has a brilliant, twisty ending that would make Rod Serling proud. Well done.
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A MAN CALLED OVE
OI-VEY
john sekerka
Grumpy old Scandinavian man alert.
Ove is a regiment nut, running his little neighbourhood complex like a prisoner of suburban camp, locking gates, checking latches, writing parking tickets, updating signage. His favourite: chasing any car that dares drive through the transportation banned alleyways. He is gruff, curt, belligerent, and brutally honest. He's also trying, unsuccessfully, to kill himself.
In a romantic attempt to join the deceased love of his life, lonely Ove tries over and over to leave his mortal coil, but the nosy, pestering, interrupting neighbours keep botching things up. Soon there is enough distraction that Ove's extended life might not seem so pointless.
"A Man Called Ove" balances the comedy with the drama just right, keeping the sappy moments (yes of course they exist) to a tolerable minimum. The old school meets new school generation gap set up never gets, uh, old. And Ove's forced relationship with his spark plug Iranian neighbour is not only totally believable, but avoids complex political issues to present the story in a fresh, uncluttered manner.
How Swede it is.
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ARRIVAL
CIRCLE GAME
john sekerka
This is one dark movie. Very dark. Need a flashlight dark. It adds to the gloomy, ominous tension, in the latest alien encounter Hollywood blockbuster. Here's the good news: instead of turning into some crazy CGI battle zone, "Arrival" keeps on keeping on with the intellectual storyline, which as it turns out, is pretty damn engrossing.
Clever is just the start here. "Arrival" is brimming with original, quirky, brain-teasing quandaries on various levels of the human experience, and how an alien intrusion could turn everything we know upside down.
Not only is the narrative quite delicious, but the circular unfolding of events, the inventive communication mysteries of another life form, and the questioning of scientific knowledge, is revelatory. Saying more would spoil this carefully concocted, multi-layered masterpiece. Be warned: there may be repeated viewings in your future to decipher all that flows off the big screen.
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THE DANCER
20 UP
john sekerka
16 million hits. That's success. In modern times. For anything. Let alone ballet.
Yes ballet. But this isn't your gran's ballet, this is mercurial, tattooed, P. Diddy fan, cocaine bad boy Sergei Polunin. The youngest principal dancer whistle still a teen, for the British Royal Ballet Company. That's a big deal. Then, as he seemingly had it all, he walked away from it all.
Documentary time. "The Dancer" follows the infant terrible seemingly right out of the womb - "the doctor was amazed how flexible he was" - as grainy video footage provides proof of narrative. Life in the Ukraine is tough, so father travels to Portugal for work, Grandma to Greece, while Mother transports the golden child to all the right schools. It works, as success is achieved, yet at familial costs.
Polunin is a magnetic star alright, whether soaring across stages in tighty tights, or just goofing around with his friends. His story, with as many ups and downs as Nutcracker jumps, is extraordinary, culminating in his supposedly swan song Youtube clip. Although a tad slow to start, once it gets going, this is a terrific film.
Where he goes from here is anyone's guess, but probably his driven, guilt-trip crazed mother will have a say. Stay tuned.
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THE FOUNDER
WHATTA KROC!
john sekerka
Ray Kroc always claimed to be the founder of the biggest fast food joint in the universe. Turns out McDonald's was the invention of the McDonald brothers. Huh.
A great story here. After several stalled starts, the brothers perfected the fast food assembly line, drive up model, complete with golden arches and several southwest franchises. Enter milk shake machine huckster Ray Kroc, who sees dollar signs everywhere he looks, and convinces the brothers to partner and go national. The rest as they say, is burger history. Except that Ray wrassled the chain away from the controlling brothers, to become the name and face of the world's most dominant restaurant.
Capturing the excitement of a wide open, business exploding, post war America, the movie chugs eagerly along as millions, then billions are served. It looks fifties fabulous. Kroc and the brothers butt heads over crucial details and business acumen, and we have conflict. If left to the brothers it's clear that McDonald's would have been a great, friendly operation, but not the global phenomena Kroc whipped it into.
"The Founder" follows Kroc, from his humble and humiliating beginnings, all the way to the very top. And as with every business success, there's casualties along the way. As the driven, clever and manipulative Kroc, Michael Keaton delivers a surprisingly, sympathetic angle to a very unsympathetic steamroller, even as friendships, marriages and partners are left in the dust. Not an easy act, and one that really makes this movie.
Turns out the late career Michael Keaton resurrection is no fluke.
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GOLD
SMELLY BRE
john sekerka
Don't be fooled by the American angle, this is the Canadian Bre-X mining scandal on film. Details of which serve as spoilers for what is a terrific and utterly amazing story. "Gold" is worth a see just for the crazy - truth is stranger than fiction - plot unfold. Too bad there's too much Hollywooding going on to make it a great film.
What in tarnation were they thinking' - casting manhunk Matthew McConaughey in the role of beer-bellied baldie David Walsh (Kenny Wells in the film version)? The whole movie is dominated by an awful bald wig and way too many gut shots over whitey tighties. Yeah, we get it: McConaughey is ditching his good boy looks, transforming his body into a sweaty mess. What a trooper! What dedication to his craft! Pass the Oscar!
Uh, not so fast.
As good as McConaughey is, and he is pretty good, there's just no getting past the point that we are watching an act, instead of the real deal. It really takes away from the film, which could have been truly epic instead of just pleasantly passable. Great story though.
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LONDON TOWN
SHOULD I STAY OR SHOULD I GO?
john sekerka
Whenever fifteen year old awkward teen Shay is introduced, the reply is always "Guevara?" It's a good-bad line, much like the herky-jerky nature of this well-meaning movie.
"London Town" is a coming of age story amidst the explosive background that was England in the late seventies, set to the music and vitriol spirit of The Clash. Caught in a private maelstrom of his own - thrust into parenting his little sister, and keeping the family piano business afloat - Shay is swept up into intoxicating big city punk life courtesy of a bubblegum snapping lass. Ah, puppy punk love.
Rather quickly and surprisingly often, Shay is running into lead singer and political spokesman of a snotty generation, Joe Strummer, and gets immersed in the London scene. It's a dream - nightmare scenario, filled with exciting adventures and lower-class struggles. In short: perfect movie fodder.
"London Town" almost pulls it off, but relies a bit too much on The Clash angle instead of focusing on the family. Still it has plenty of charm, and the music of course, is spectacular.
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KRISHA
OFF THE RAILS
john sekerka
Trying to make her way through a parking car maze to the big house, Krisha steps into some muddy water and throws up a beautiful, cuss-filled tirade. Oh goody - a Thanksgiving dinner family train wreck. No funny stuff here though. Even the potty mouth film intro reeks of ominous drama ahead.
Krisha may have arrived empty handed, but she comes with plenty of baggage. Filmed in a stark, dark, documentary style, the movie lingers on every awkward familial interaction, building a weird form of tension. Krisha comes for redemption, offering to cook a big bird to show her demons are long past.
Whether the turkey gets cooked or not, is never the issue. The unravelling of Krisha and her history is what's on the menu. As the larger than life lead, Krisha Fairchild (real life aunt of director Trey Edward Shults) absolutely dominates the screen as a bellicose powder keg, stumbling through a few hours of attempted normalcy.
It's a tough watch, but totally worth it.
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20TH CENTURY WOMEN
GIRLHOOD
john sekerka
What appears to be a coming of age feminist flick, turns out to be a wonderfully honest portrayal of multi-faceted relationships in a tumultuous time. When is time not tumultuous? Exactly. It's the late seventies, the soundtrack is punk, America has a wonderful president (although they don't know it) in Jimmy Carter, and the hippie aesthetic of the sixties is being put to the test.
As mother hen Dorothea, Annette Bening is wonderful in a complex role that requires strength, vulnerability and passion. Single mother to her teenage son, Dorothea asks her artsy boarder, and Jamie's platonic girl friend, to help raise the boy.
What could have easily spiralled into a mushy, messy, melodrama, is instead a visceral slice of life, where shit happens, folks react, drama ensues, some resolution is found, some is not. And amid all the drama, there are bits of clever humour sprinkled in for levity. There is no clear, point to point plot trail here, just an extended family dealing with life as it unfolds.
The performances are exceptional across the board, with Bening a likely Oscar candidate. Superb.
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OPERATION AVALANCHE
KA-MOON!
john sekerka
Finally, the faked moon landing conspiracy nuts get their proof, and then some.
Not only does "Operation Avalanche" tell the cold war truth of America's ridiculous claim to lunar escapades, but it's also a nifty espionage thriller, complete with gun play and classic car chases. A pair of documentarians, originally hired to sniff out a Russian mole, soon hatch a plot to film the impending (impossible) moon landing with some clever cinema magic. A tricky plan for sure, but when spy agencies heat up the cold war plans, our filmic nerds are in for the ride of heir life.
Filmed on crackly old stock, old school, old film, "Operation Avalanche" captures the bizarro undercover adventures of the CIA, when the fate of everything America felt near and dear to her heart rested on conquering a barren, grey hunk of space rock.
Could this found footage documentary be the real deal? You decide, and along the way, enjoy the greatest in-car filmed chase since "Bullitt".
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MAGNIFICENT SEVEN
LUCKY STRIKE
john sekerka
Wait, you're not expecting Oscar material right? Right. As big-screen, popcorn entertainment goes, "The Magnificent Seven" delivers, and delivers, and keeps on delivering, until it can't deliver any more.
Updated from the equally edible original, the latest remake brings a multi-cultural, multi-racial, multi-colourful aspect to the wispy white genre of the western, but aside from assembling a United Nations posse (whoops, that's a nasty word) to kick some bad guy butt, this film gives Hollywood icon Denzel Washington a chance to play with horses and guns. Woo-hoo! Denzel's good. He makes a great badass good guy. Uh, you know what I mean.
And yes, the script is quite predictable. And yes the bad guys drop like it's a video game. There is no down time. Nobody eats, sleeps, or goes to the bathroom. There's no time. The escapism is fantastic, and thankfully the line between good and bad is crystal clear, there are no grey areas, and rooting for the right side is as easy as apple pie. Who wants to think when popcorn munching is on the agenda?
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OLD STONE
CHINESE TAXI DRIVER
john sekerka
Never mind Uber, the taxi drivers in China have much bigger problems on the go: accident victims who won't die. That's right, a corpse is better than a convalescing victim, since the driver is on the hook for all the medical bills.
That's the predicament our good samaritan driver Lao Shi has fallen into. Very quickly his bank account is depleted, and everything in his world is spiralling out of control. Shi's various good-willed attempts to right the situation crumble in a series of comedic and tragic, bureaucratic, communist red tape. His friends, family and work fall by the wayside, and Shi grows more and more desperate.
Pretty good plot device, and thankfully first time director Johnny Ma presses all the right buttons, painting a magnificent canvas on the screen, culminating with a glorious, thrilling, bright red finale. Robert DeNiro would be proud.
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BEING 17
LOVE AND FISTS
john sekerka
Oh those French.
What looks like a fun, coming of age high school yarn, turns a seemingly bullying conflict into a basic sex conundrum, that slips in some family, racial, political and class conflicts to boot.
There's a lot going on here. A lot. But director Andre Techine is totally up for the task, revealing the story in a natural, unromanticized manner. Everything moves along as in life: bumpy, full of challenges, but never stopping for time.
The two leads, Kacey Motten Klein and Corinten Fila, are excellent as the privileged white boy and the industrious, hard working brown boy, discovering their relationship through wildly fluctuating emotional and physical means. Their growth through much turmoil is fascinating to watch. So go watch it.
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DON'T BREATHE
BLIND AMBITION
john sekerka
Scary.
You still here? Ok. Not everyone's up for frights, but if watching a movie in the fetal position is your thing, "Don't Breathe" will get you there.
It's a pretty neat twist on the home invasion genre: where the victim turns the tables on a threesome of smarmy teen thieves, and we get a clever cat and mouse game inside a house trap. Manipulating the audience always works well, as loyalty to certain characters on screen keeps shifting, in what is a wire-tight tension thrill ride. There's big money on the table, and that's what leads to all the trouble, but soon enough there's much more at stake, and the good/bad dynamic starts to get mighty cloudy. Clever.
Shot in deep, dark, rich, and often long sequences, "Don't Breathe", is a throwback thriller that eschews choppy, frenetic edits for moody pans, and creepy pauses. Your nails will hate it.
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GHOSTBUSTERS
DEJA WU-MEN
john sekerka
As preposterous as it sounds: remaking a rather unremarkable film, except with females as the leads, the new "Ghostbusters" actually contains half a pretty good movie.
Much like the first time around, all the fun is in the comedic riffing between the characters, and then the lousy special effects take over. Ugh. Melissa McCarthy, Kristen Wiig, Leslie Jones and Kate McKinnon, have excellent chemistry and just the right amount of weirdness to keep things fresh. Throw in toy candy Thor dude Chris Hemsworth as the ditzy blonde secretary, and we have complete sexism reversed. Nice.
Sure, sure, the CGI is what the kids dig, and it is technologically awesome, but crap, is it ever boring. Stay for the quick banter and catchup on emails during the fight scenes.
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BRONZE
GYMTASTIC
john sekerka
Anyone longing for a good dose of mid-America white trash awesomeness, step right up. Channeling figure skating queen Tonya Harding, teevee star Melissa Rauch jumps on to the big screen as former gymnast darling Hope Annabelle Greggory.
Living on past glory, Hope struts around town in her U.S.A. warm up suit, dishing out sneers, eye-rolls and contempt for anyone and everyone who dares cross her path. She abuses her doting dad (Gary Cole in a juicy, subservient role), verbally, physically and financially, whilst running roughshod over the hapless locals. She is one perfect piece of nasty.
Unsustainable as her lifestyle is, it all comes to a head with an inevitable transition from star to coach. Suddenly a new, young, perky attention grabber is in the picture. Throw in an old nemesis, a wide-eyed love interest, and we have plot.
Look, this ain't Oscar material, but if a raunchy, silly ninety minutes is lacking in your weekend calendar, you could do worse. Rauch is ruthlessly radiant as the potty-mouthed Holly; a female jerk with a weirdly loveable side, who happens to be the lead in a Hollywood flick. Yes.
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SCARRED BUT SMARTER: life n times of drivin n cryin
THE HARD ROCK
john sekerka
Drivin n Cryin was a typical college radio sweetheart band back in the day. They cranked out a bunch of pretty great, overlooked albums, jumped to a major label, made the charts, made some money, and quickly got swallowed up and spat out by the music biz machine. Their story is one of dozens, except that the music has managed to keep a strong resonance after all these years. Why that is, is what "Scarred But Smarter" tries to answer.
Kevn Kinney, a hater of vowels and punctuation, the driving musical force behind the band, is not pretty. He has a mouthful of scattered teeth, and a hat covering what was once a healthy crop of long hair. But he can still play. He can still write. And he can still sing - with that singular, unique voice few are blessed with. No wonder he's still out there, making music.
Look backs in this nice doc include the perfunctory fan and band recollections of what was and could have been, and concludes very little, outside of bad luck, was responsible for the meandering history. "Scarred but Smarter" works as nice time capsule of a much loved band (by very few), who made ridiculously catchy rock, but didn't know anything about career moves. The sun shines on some bands, for others, a dark cloud follows.
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HACKSAW RIDGE
MAD MEL
john sekerka
The return of Mel Gibson, is a tough call. In a blatant attempt to right all previous (personal) wrongs, director Mel unleashes an American flag wave to end all American flag waves. It's a tsunami.
"Hacksaw Ridge" tells the astounding true life tale of World War II, enlisted pacifist Desmond Doss, the first decorated soldier who refused to carry a weapon. As platoon medic, Doss was solely responsible for returning 75 casualties from battle at the horrific Okinawa conflict. The film shines during this ridiculously heroic ordeal - a superhuman feat carried out under terrifying circumstances - with heart racing tension.
That is a great movie, but unfortunately there's a very clunky, stereotypical, corny, introductory movie tacked on as well. Instead of revealing the complex Doss character through his war actions, Gibson visits his apple pie small town past to introduce an abusive, alcoholic, shell-shocked father, and a devoted, squeaky clean girlfriend - two major characters who are sorely out of place in what quickly turns into a gritty, violent, body count flick.
The compulsory basic training portion of a war movie is executed thoroughly with its cast of colourful characters, who against all odds, overcome their differences and prejudices to become a close knit unit. It's classic war movie making 101. Folks eat this stuff up.
But when heads explode and legs are severed, folks throw that stuff back up. Gibson has made a pretty good American war epic, hitting all the red white and blue buttons for the generic audience at large, but he missed the boat, cuz with some editing, this could have been truly extraordinary.
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LITTLE SISTER
GOTH NUN
john sekerka
Colleen is mousy petite: a quiet, dedicated nun to be. She is also another kind of sister, a kid one to her older brother Jacob. Jacob is back from Iraq, and so when her mother summons Colleen home, she comes.
The simple quietly unravels into the complex. Disfigured from his tour of duty, Jacob is a recluse, and neither his loving fiance, nor his well-meaning but impotent parents can reach him.
It's easy to see where this story is going, but not so easy to see where Colleen is going. She digs back to her childhood past, which includes a very serious Goth stage, to connect her fractured family, all the while her Mother Superior keeps hounding her to return to the convent.
A seemingly simple little movie, "Little Sister" covers some very big topics: family, addiction, tragedy, love, politics, faith, life and death, without being at all preachy about any of the subjects at play. It's really quite good.
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LONG WAY NORTH
SEE ICE
john sekerka
This French animation feature about a Russian expedition feels like a big time Japanese (Studio Ghibli) production. And it all works.
"Long Way North" is a sweeping historic drama presented in grandiose, panoramic backgrounds, creating a majestic, old timey, epic movie feel. Sacha is a spunky and smart teen, who leaves an entitled life to find her Arctic explorer grandfather's ship. Not an easy task, especially in 1882, when resources were scarce, and women were in their "place".
Capturing the bleak and cruel nature of the Arctic is one thing, but unravelling it as a series of gorgeous paintings is truly an achievement. Once "Long Way North" gets rolling, the sumptuous colour palette makes way for a fast paced adventure with a terrific and totally believable heroine in the lead. A visceral, historic yarn well spun.
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GIRL ASLEEP
BIRTHDAY POTTY
john sekerka
A quirky Aussie film that veers from picture perfect Wes Anderson droll to Scott Pilgrim fantasy, "Girl Asleep" is all your geeky movie needs rolled into one.
High school awkwardness, aka cinema gold, is punctuated by a forced 15th birthday party from vivaciously embarrassing parents, creating a muddled intersection of Greta's very complex and confusing life. There is a boy. There is a rather frightening and creepy school clique. There is a mysterious, unpredictable sister's boyfriend. There is a mystical forrest beyond the white picket fenced backyard.
What starts out as a swinging seventies kitsch fest, complete with glorious short shorts, shag carpeting, and a kicking disco dance celebration, morphs into a haunting, hallucinatory journey of self-discovery.
It's a mishmash adventure film where record sleeves come to life, and parents morph into mythical creatures. As if adolescence isn't crazy enough. Perhaps it's all a bit over the top, but it sure is a fantastic, top notch theatre watch.
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MEAN DREAMS
TAKE THE MONEY AND RUN
john sekerka
Bill Paxton is bad. Really bad. Sneaky, snaky, snarky bad. Bad in a good way. His soothing, southern drawl and calm demeanour, belie a seething monster. A crooked cop. An abusive father. Evil.
As victims, we get two sweet teenagers stumbling through a crush, saddled with life in a a bleak farming community, who, due to unfortunate circumstance, become fugitives on the lam. It's meat and potatoes cinema: good vs. bad, with little chance of anything going right. After all, the cops are the bad guys: whatcha gonna do?
"Mean Dreams" captures vast landscape loneliness, no future hopelessness, tense survival conflict, with fumbling teenagers groping for their footing in life. It's a tense, gripping thrill ride that offers no easy answers, and very muddy avenues. A great down and dirty movie, in the literal sense.
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LAVENDER
FAMILY FARM
john sekerka
An old fashioned ghost story where suspense and mystery drive the plot down a series of winding, but scenic roads, "Lavender" is a chilly watch that takes it's pretty little time. But like with most such matters, is totally worth the wait.
There's something up with Jane. She lives a normal, family life, until she starts to experience hazy visions. A car roll really gets the story moving. Soon well dusted history is being unravelled, and the creepiness creeps in.
Driven by an ominous soundtrack courtesy of the squeaky (a tad over the top) violin by Sarah Neufeld and guttural baritone sax of Colin Stetson, "Lavender's" ghostly intensions are very clear from the outset, yet the development of the reveal is superbly played out for a frenzied finale.
A Halloween staple? Why yes.
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THE GREASY STRANGLER
MIDNIGHT SCREAMING
john sekerka
B-movie shlockers may be a disappearing act, but as long as there's demented cinemafiles eager to slither over for a midnight screening at the local revue theatre, then there will be blood. Or at least syrup. Perhaps some gratuitous nudity. And if lucky, a few glorious moments of movie madness.
"The Greasy Strangler" checks the scorecard on all bullets, and then some. It's absurd family fare in the best/worst John Waters tradition, brimming with overacting, scintillating wardrobe, bizarre plot twists, fast food sexiness, and offers depravity with a capital D cup. All the stuff that seems hilarious in a half filled theatre at a very late hour. Dad is a sketchy disco tour guide, a connoisseur of everything greasy, abnormally horny, and the chief suspect in a series of gristley crimes. What is a son to do?
As this genre goes, "The Greasy Strangler" seeps above the normal low budget fare with some primo cinematography. Something this bad shouldn't look this good. Or maybe that's part of the revolting charm.
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LOVERS AND THE DESPOT
IL ADVISED
john sekerka
If you thought "The Interview" was over-the-top crazy, then have a seat. "Lovers and the Despot" tells an absolutely ridiculous true story that can only exist thanks to the long line of loony North Korean dictators.
Back in '78, Kim Jong-il decided to ramp up his floundering movie industry by importing some primo talent from the South. Importing is code for kidnapping. And the talent is the boffo international film darlings, husband and wife team of Shin Sang-ok and Choi Eun-hee.
Told matter-of-factly by the famous leading lady, this story of espionage, entrapment, and suffering, creates way more questions than answers. The events are sketchy. The circumstances cloudy. The evidence is muddy. It's hard to paint a clear picture. Or movie.
Throughout the wild and wooly ordeal, one thing stands out: the surreal life adventures of North Korean dictators is Hollywood gold.
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EIGHT DAYS A WEEK
BIGGER THAN JESUS
john sekerka
The Stones or the Beatles?
Really?
An unabashed loving doc by Opie Cunningham (Ron Howard) looking at the gigging years of the world's greatest rock and roll band, makes for a surprisingly fresh, feel good watch.
Howard expertly splices raw live footage, some nice insider bits, classic interview witticisms (John: "I'm Eric"), with gushing celebrity fans (Whoopi Goldberg, Sigourney Weaver), and some pretty insightful observations by Elvis Costello, into a perfectly paced overview that hits the fan sweet spot. Ringo, Paul and George go just deep enough with their recollections to offer some interesting insights without getting all maudlin.
Devoid of any controversies nor the usual tabloid fodder, "Eight Days a Week" works by telling a great story, presenting the facts, and not lingering. The live footage is great, and shows just how good the band was in the very early and experimental days of stadium rock (in spite of the atrocious technical shortcomings).
The film ends in 1966 when the tired four, ceases touring to concentrate on a studio career (a mere four more years), freeze-framing the boys at a crucial, creative junction.
Always go out on top.
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DEMON
WEDDING CRASHES
john sekerka
A Polish wedding party is ruined when a dead girl's spirit decides to inhabit the groom. And as we all know: possession is nine tenths of the law. Juicy.
"Demon" is billed as horror, and yes there are some hair-raising scenes, but this is really a macabre thriller, sprinkled with political commentary, and a dash of sly comedy. And, it's all pretty good.
Polkas are played, vodka is chugged, and the groom starts to unravel. Seems like a typical wedding, as the partying guests keep on partying. An ambulance shows up. An exorcism is performed. The skies pelt everyone with an end-of-days storm. And still, the party goes on ("more Vodka!")
The Poles are resilient.
"Demon" cleverly employs a wide range of offbeat characters for levity, making the absolute creepiness of the circumstance quite palatable. And when all is said and done, there is an uneasy, disturbing after taste that lingers when the credits roll. So, yeah, a success.
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TRANSPECOS
THREE'S A CROWD
john sekerka
There's the Mexican border, a lot of dust, and nary a wall.
What could go wrong? Quite a bit as it turns out.
"Transpecos" starts with a nonchalant piece of brutal violence befitting a Coen Brothers film. It is shot wide, from a fair distance. No introductions needed, the shot sets the slow burning fuse on fire, laying the groundwork for the suffocating tension throughout.
A quirky prelude to the inevitable action introduces three very distinct border guards, with three very distinct agendas. Quips are made in jocular fashion as jittery rookie, grouchy veteran and calm mainstay, pass time in the vast wasteland.
Border crossings are few, and offer brief respite to the daily drudgery, until all hell breaks loose. Then it's off to a day at the races as three desperate men are thrown into a dusty fight for their lives.
Shot in stunning panoramas, acted with superb nuance, and scored expertly, "Transpecos" is a desert classic without the island.
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RABID DOGS
RAT PACK
john sekerka
A botched heist - turned kidnapping road trip with a pretzel twist ending, this stylish film noire never skips a beat.
Actually a remake of a Mario Bava obscurity, "Rabid Dogs" is a very French film that gathers three desperate robbers out of their element, dragging three bystanders as safety shields in a Volvo station wagon. A dysfunctional family road trip to be sure.
As if matters were not bad enough, each and every stop of the getaway brings new challenges to the group, escalating already fragile personality conflicts, building methodically to an explosive ending. We know this can't end well, but how it ends is well worth the wait.
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MEN AND CHICKEN
FOWL IN THE FAMILY
john sekerka
Perhaps the strangest thing about this very odd little movie, is the ridiculously deadpan comedic slant that stoic actor Mads Mikklesen brings to his role. "Chicken and Men" is a head-shaking, slapstick masterpiece that turns "The Island of Dr. Moreau", into a horrifyingly comedy.
The plot line starts with a couple of odd, and odd-looking half brothers, on a quest to find their long lost birth father, who happens to be a very mad scientist. Matters get weird very quickly with the discovery of an extended family, and a mansion teeming with hybrid animals.
The terrifying and grotesque circumstances unfold to the pace of brilliant physical comedy, and small-town quirkiness taken to the extreme. It's a dark film, with a lot of giggles in all the wrong places, and some of the weirdest moments on the big screen. So yes, highly recommended.
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THE SHALLOWS
BAITWATCH
john sekerka
Surfer girl meets Jaws, plain and simple. Sometimes a pure adrenaline rush, action survival movie is what the doctor ordered. And like a pizza boy in an adult film, "The Shallows" delivers.
Sure there's a brief plot setup, something about family, blah blah blah, but soon enough we have bikinis, surfboards and an all-gender eating shark. Wahoo!
Stuck precariously on a rock in the middle of a shiny blue bay beach, Blake Lively spends the whole of the movie battling a nasty giant white monster, and she totally pulls it off.
"The Shallows" is more of a survival movie than a womano a sharko punch out. Surfer girl has to try and outwit the beast, and we get ninety minutes of surprising tension and intrigue. While LIvely looks lovely, it is her medical student brain that is really on display here.
Not only an action driven thrill ride, "The Shallows" proves an invaluable lesson on how to deal with pesky sharks.
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TUNNEL
DIG IT
john sekerka
Trapped inside a Korean disaster movie for two hours should not be this much fun. Trapped inside a collapsed tunnel certainly is not. Welcome to Jung-soo's world. A dedicated Kia car salesman, this young family man is on his way to celebrate his daughter's birthday, when inconvenienced in a most dastardly manner.
Thankfully he has some water courtesy of a bumbling gas station attendant, and some food - he has cake and he can eat it too. But is that enough? The countdown is on, as the difficult rescue effort drags on. The event becomes a nationwide sensation, and a juicy reality show for all the news, and government bigwigs to pounce on.
Full of suspense, drama and unexpected humour, "Tunnel" mixes a suffocating, claustrophobic plot with a quirky look at Korean life. When victims reach out, they first apologize for inconveniencing everyone else, then desperately excuse themselves from their work places, before getting to their families, and lastly, their selfless selves. It plays like a communist parody of the highest order.
Shot starkly in close, dusty quarters, "Tunnel" is one super tight flick, well worth the time.
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THE MUSIC OF STRANGERS
YO MAMA
john sekerka
A documentary that follows world renown and much loved cellist Yo-Yo Ma as he gathers his Silk Road Ensemble, is not just a film about music, but aspires to answer some very big global questions.
Virtuoso players from various world corners come together to create lively music parties under the jovial, motherly hen direction of Ma, and tell their stories. Stories of oppression, suppression, and struggle. Riveting stuff, though not enough time is spent on each tale (an impossible task), so we are left with enticing snippets, hopefully to be fully explored at a later date.
Fear not, there's enough here to warrant a view, even in the guise of a wonderful, long form music video. "The Music of Strangers" is beautifully shot, features extraordinary aural bits, and introduces a series of interesting characters. Intended as a some sort of artistic love-in to counteract the world's ills, this doc actually works better as a glimpse into the crazy world of gifted geniuses, and their determination to create their craft as outsiders. And it swings.
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THE MEDDLER
MOMMY DREAREST
john sekerka
Susan Sarandon as a gum-smacking, controlling Brooklyn mom, making life for her single, adult daughter a frustrating heck, should be a pretty good watch.
Should be. And for the opening set up, it is, but sadly, it loses momentum halfway, and just kinda wobbles to the finish line. For some it may be enough. Sarandon is her charming self, dealing with a different kind of mid-life crisis: the loss of a husband, focusing all her energy on her very tolerant but weary offspring. This little conflict is enough to develop a story line, but gets muddled with a rash of alternate mini plots, none of which really adds anything to the proceedings. Just filler really.
There's a requisite new romance angle that should have been explored further, or at least with some gusto. It's J.K. Simmons with a cowboy moustache and a Harley for gosh sakes! Instead we get pleasant sunset scenes, and a lot of half-hearted smiles.
A movie that starts with a very sharp edge, gets a bit dull by the final frame.
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LO AND BEHOLD
WEB DREAMS
john sekerka
A very eager Leonard Kleinrock slaps, caresses, and smells a rather large, bomb proof server in the corner of a sterile UCLA computer lab. Thus starts Werner Herzog's latest documentary feature: a multi-chaptered look at the internet.
Much like a surfing experience, "Lo and Behold" ping pongs all over the map, delivering a multitude of unconnected stories that work well as individual snippets, but do not create a cohesive whole. No matter, in fact, that may be Herzog's point.
Tackling such a monumental topic is an impossible task, so Herzog settles for little stories (good, bad, humorous, scary) and characters (ditto), to subvert the technology on display with a very real human factor. Is the internet a saviour of the human race, or the end of it? Could be both, but boy oh boy, the people behind it, and the people in front of it, is what fuels the film.
Herzog, channeling some Philip K. Dick, asks repeatedly of his subjects whether the internet dreams of itself, as if it is a living, breathing, growing entity. An ominous, sci-fi question for sure, but the answers usually go in totally unexpected directions. And that is Werner's genius: posing odd quandaries, then letting his subjects improvise (usually uncomfortable) on the spot responses as the camera rolls.
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EDGE OF WINTER
HERE'S DADDY
john sekerka
There's a taught tension from the get go here, and it lives in the powder keg portrayed by Joel Kinnaman. Father and sons bonding movies usually play out a bit differently: there is adventure, there is conflict, there is triumph, there are tears, and there are end credits over silhouetted hugs as the sun sets. Not here.
"Edge of Winter" is the inevitable unravelling of a divorced dad, facing multiple bleak life options, trying desperately, one last time to connect with his distant kids. There is adventure, but it involves guns, beer, and Canadian winter. There is conflict, with everyone involved, and it only escalates. There is, well, there is a pretty damn good movie that follows a disturbing path.
As daddy going wrong, Kinnaman rots beautifully form the inside, whilst his astonished brood attempt some semblance of damage control. How this plays out is secondary to the dead on performances from the excellent cast.
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IN ORDER OF DISAPPEARANCE
BLOODY FUN
john sekerka
Gangster mobs, drug trade, a father's revenge, and snow plows. If this smells like a Coen Brothers movie, it should, except we are in Norway, so it sounds a tad different.
"In Order of Disappearance" is, as the apt title suggests, a systematic body count; most of the bloody variety, and most sprayed on virgin white snow. Quite lovely, in a morbid fashion. The bad guys are nasty, but also genuinely funny. The good guy is all business, understated, and also quite funny, though in a deadpan manner.
Scandanavian acting legend Stellan Skarsgard owns this adorable, nasty little film from the start. Whether it's clearing the local roads, contemplating suicide, or dumping corpses over water falls, he brings a wonderful stoic detachment to the job at hand. You will never watch a snow plow with the usual ambivalence again.
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HUNT FOR THE WILDERPEOPLE
FINDING RICKY
john sekerka
From the slightly askew New Zealender film wonder boy Taika Waiti who delivered the charmer "Boy", comes a similar offbeat piece of celluloid. And that is very good news indeed.
A lost boy and a lost grump adventure in the bush story, manages to ride a silly string of slapsticky events without derailing from the well placed, plot line tracks. Chock full of oddball characters, and misunderstood happenstances, "Hunt For The Wilderpeople" bridges that rare gap that exists between wholesome family fare, and biting adult comedy. Big time actor Sam Neill slips effortlessly into his low-key role, as the misunderstood backwoodsman, who turns out to be the lone sane person in the escalating ordeal.
The reluctant buddy buddy on the run scenario is nothing new, but only works if there's chemistry between the leads. Check. Add in some gorgeous Kiwi landscapes to liven up the chase, and we have a nice little movie here.
Sappy story? Yup. But sappilicious.
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MILES AHEAD
DIET COKE
john sekerka
There's a funny bit where Miles Davis shows obvious disdain for "Kind of Blue", considered universally as a (if not thee) jazz standard, preferring the overlooked "Sketches of Spain". "Miles Ahead" is a musician's movie through and through, exploring the process of making great art, often to excruciating detail, and the suffering of other parts of life at the cost of creating said art.
The bizarro, mad genius world through the rainbow coloured glasses of Miles himself is one crazy ride. Writer, director, star, Don Cheadle becomes Miles, plain and simple. We get a hallucinatory, fictional snippet of Miles' in the wilderness, cocaine fuelled, late seventies drought, cut jaggedly with his meteoric early days (which plays like a standard biopic).
Miles' complicated, thrilling and troubled relationship with dancer Frances Taylor is the core of both periods (before and after the loving), offering up his chief dilemma in life: choosing art over love, since he is not capable of balancing both.
The film plays like a combination of Miles' early and latter records, one part smooth, straight ahead narrative, the other a surreal, hazy, improvisational trip, revolving around a mysterious, much in demand tape. This will no doubt elicit devout fanaticism or utter disdain from the audience. Or both. Much like Davis' music. So, a total success.
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BLACKWAY
DARKNESS ON THE EDGE OF TOWN
john sekerka
Anthony Hopkins, Hal Holbrook, Ray Liotta, Julia Stiles ... done deal right?
Yes indeed. In what amounts to a Hollywood shake up, "Blackway" delivers an old school film, which moves at an even pace, features calm dialogue, and stays clear of any sensationalism. When folks drive, they take it nice and easy. When folks are saddled with confrontation, they stay clear. When folks get slugged, they stay down. This is the damp, dark, downtrodden life of a logging town held hostage.
The story is dead simple, and plays out, pretty much as expected. After Lillian (Styles) moves back to her childhood, sleepy town, she quickly becomes the target of a local thug, who is running the place with fierce brutality. After several dead ends, she manages to enlist a couple of idle locals to make things right. And we are off.
"Blackway" is terrific little film, guiding a fairly straight ahead plot with a steady hand. It brims with nuanced performances, especially Anthony Hopkins as the mysterious senior with some closet skeletons, Alexander Ludwig as his simple sidekick, Styles as the focal point of reason, and Liotta as the seething wild-eyed crazy (of course).
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I AM THOR
IT'S HAMMER TIME
john sekerka
Seventies rock is all about comebacks, and who wouldn't want a return of the Norse Thunder God? Redundant question. Don't worry about it.
Right up there with the fabulous, and oddly similar "Anvil", "I Am Thor" documents the pipe dream of ex-metal screamer, and body building legend Jon Mikl Thor. The comeback try is a long and painful one (began in 1997), and as with any such tale of perseverance, is full of cinema gold.
Too good to be true, this riveting doc is filled with wonderful, Spinal Tappy moments, like Thor erroneously (and repeatedly) pulling up his skull belt before his chest plate, then scolding himself. Or when a couple of scantily clad dancers exiting stage left during a gig, knock over a stack of amplifiers. And how about when Thor gets stuck between security doors, eventually having to slither his way out of the trap. Then there is bumbling drummer Mike Favato approaching a young group of metal fans in Finland, and being miffed when he wasn't mobbed, let alone recognized.
Though Thor is the hustling, loveable centrepiece of the story, Favato - who has remarkably kept his frizzy, jet black mullet in tact all these decades - is indispensable, and totally awesome.
Though a lot of his muscles have made their way south, and his various medical ailments seem like a roadblock too concrete even for the hammer god, Thor keeps on delivering the goods. Hopefully, as with Anvil, this film will spur some much deserved glory.
There are some ridiculous and all to brief early story lines involving Vegas, nude musicals, The Merv Griffin Show, blowing up water bottles, B-movies, kidnapping, and one-eyed starfish. Too much material for just one movie really. It's like a twofer. In an attempt to bring some seriousness to his music craft, Thor claims his lyrics are "almost Dylanesque, they are prolific". Yes, yes they are.
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HOW TO BUILD A TIME MACHINE
TIME'S UP
john sekerka
Finally, a "how to video" with practical applications, though not for the Youtube
attention span generation.
The long sought sciency magic theory of time travel is approached analytically and very seriously by physicist Ronald Mallet, who spins Einstein's Theory of Relativity in a convincing demonstration that involves really cool lasers and dry ice. Convincingly and calmly explaining the relation between gravity, time and light, and the problem with funding such a sci-fi experiment, Mallet shatters the mad scientist
mould.
The other half of this doc features animator Rob Niosi, who since viewing the H.G. Wells' classic adaptation "The Time Machine" (1960), has nursed a rather unnatural obsession with said contraption. So much so, that Niosi has spent the last decade building an intricate replica from the ground up.
"How To Build a Time Machine" tells these time travel hopeful stories in a warm, and engaging manner. Beautifully shot to boot.
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OUT OF PRINT
CUT!
john sekerka
An unabashed love letter to repertory cinema, "Out of Print" focuses on L.A.'s legendary Beverly Cinema, and serves as a reminder of yet another technology going the way of the Dodo bird: film. Real film. Celluloid. Of the non-digital variety.
This doc is one easy watch, as local celebs (Seth Green, David Lynch, Edgar Wright ... the list is long) take turns with glowing cameos, espousing the glory of 35 mm film. The cool retro feel of the Beverly is the perfect stage for hip film lovers to gush fondly over classic double bills, and surprise Q and A sessions with big wig Hollywood types.
Pretty cool stuff, warms the hearts of any old timey film watchers, and ensures that the Beverly is on the "to do" list next time we all jetset to La-La land.
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THREE
TWO OUT OF THREE
john sekerka
Tough call, this one. Fans of Honk Kong cinema will be all over "Three". Director Johnnie To (totally awesome name) has that Tarantino magic: threading complex, twisty plot lines into a tight, explosive knot, and then, uh, exploding it.
"Three" pits, wait for it, three characters in a tense hospital room drama. A killer, a cop and a surgeon, play cat and mouse, and another mouse, in an ultra stylish, super sharp 87 minutes of tension. The killer has a bullet in his head, six hours to live, and is refusing life-saving surgery. He has lots to say, and plenty up his sleeves. If he had sleeves. Unravelling the story lines is half the fun. The other half comes with the sweeping camera work. Very cool.
Still, it suffers dramatically from ultra stiff acting. Everyone is extremely starched, walking around with pickles up their butts (figuratively of course). Not sure if this takes getting used to, but it is hard to ignore. The carefully choreographed paintball finale may be a technical achievement, but slapstick drama is a cold viewing experience.
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HELLO, MY NAME IS DORIS
GO COUGAR GO!
john sekerka
Doris has missed out on life. Closing in fast on retirement age, she is the poster girl for "spinster": a single, hoarding, cat lady, stuck in her late mother's house, dealing with a thankless job, boorish family, and various underlying obsessive disorders. Oh, by the way, this is a comedy.
As the quirky Doris, Sally Field doles out a juicy performance that requires a delicate balancing act, veering from unstable senior to crush-filled high-schooler. Jumping off the pages of her teenage yearbook, Doris finds meaning in a seemingly unhealthy infatuation with the new office boy toy.
With the help of a precocious teen, she manages to stalk her prey on Facebook, and slowly, infiltrate her way into her future love's life. Dresses in vintage chic, and carrying a devil may care attitude, she quickly ingratiates herself to the younger set. It's a tough act to pull off, but Field manages it without stumbling into parody.
The chase is certainly entertaining, and only crosses the absurdist line in a few of
fantasy sequences. It's a fun ride, that doesn't skimp on harsh realities.
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ALMOST HOLY
HOLY CRAP
john sekerka
A Ukraine is a hellhole, and here's just one seedy look at what's going on. Steve Hoover's no-nonsense documentary puts the cameras on pastor Gennadiy Mokhenko, a bigger than life, mountain of a man who dishes out tough love to the street kids of Maripul.
These kids live in the sewers. They are castoffs. They are junkies. Crocodile Gennadiy, as he is called, takes them in - sometimes to his rehabilitation centre, sometimes right into his expansive family. There's no sweet talk to the kids, the dealers, the abusers, the implicit pharmacists. No one is spared.
Shot in beautiful green and blue shades by John Pope, "Almost Holy" brings a jarring aesthetic to the real life horrors on screen. It's a disturbing film documenting a superhero single-handedly wrestling a catastrophe, and often winning. It answers one of life's toughest questions: "what can I possibly do?" Quite a bit as it turns out.
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LOLO
SEX IN THE VILLE
john sekerka
A Julie Delpy project, which means "Lolo" is clever, wordy, sexy, and very, very French. The funny is a bit of a surprise.
Rich with evocative dialogue, this complicated mother-boyfriend-son triangle veers from comedic to astute, to confusing, to combative. It has life. It has spirit. It has great performances. It has Paris. And yet, it never quite comes together. Perhaps there's just too much going on; a cluttered film assembled with good intentions.
Delpy's middle age, single fashionista in search of romantic adventures would have been enough, but the plot is muddled with a silly IT story, and a rather disturbing Oedipus bent.
"Lolo" does have its charms, especially the slapstickler Dany Boon, but requires more than a passing knowledge of the Euro jetset to properly enjoy the razor sharp skewers. Works swell in parts, but not in the sum of.
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BOREALIS
NORTHERN FIGHTS
john sekerka
Taking the typically fraught, father and teenage daughter relationship to extremes, "Borealis" throws three mammoth wrenches into the already stinky stew: the daughter is going blind, the father is a gambling addict, and the mother has passed. Here we go.
In hopes of familial reconciliation, bad dad decides a road trip to see the Northern Lights in Churchill is the cure-all. Or at least the best idea of the moment, especially since a couple of thugs are sniffing around for money owed.
Yes a road trip. Connecting the cliche dots is actually quite fun, for despite a bevy of depressing plot lines, the film slips in some comedic flare to keep the engine running. It's a truly Canadian experience: leaving the city, driving across wide expanses, fuelling up on coffee and gas and black jack games in remote small towns, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.
"Borealis" tackles a lot of heady issues, often unsuccessfully, but at the core, remains a charming little film with a lot of heart, and top notch acting from the leads.
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AMERICAN HERO
MARVEL-LESS
john sekerka
Cutting to the chase: this is not, thankfully, another super hero blockbuster. Though a block does get busted. But enough with the spoilers. Let's move on.
Tough to tell just what the hell "American Hero" is all about. A faux doc? A sappy family tale? A gritty drama? A twisted comedy? Whatever.There is something entrancing about this little indie film, in spite of its various personalities. And that something is Stephen Dorff, who manages to morff his way through a glorious mess. As Melvin, he's a good buddy, a party animal, a bad but trying hard dad, and the owner of some crazy kinetic powers. A barfly superhero with a tarnished heart of gold, Melvin keeps trying to do the right thing, and for the most part, failing miserably.
The wicked special effects are a surprise in such a seemingly small time film, and though that bit of smoke and mirrors should totally derail the story, it all actually works.
Enjoyable to say the least. Surprising to say the most.
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TOO LATE
FULL CIRCLE
john sekerka
Shot in five, stupefying long takes (on film!), "Too Late" is more than just a technical achievement. It's a brilliant, stylish film noire with enough juicy twists to warrant some theatre going excitement.
It's a slow burner, that takes it's pretty little time, but as soon as screen magnet John Hawkes pops up, we are off to the races. For a gun-toting, bloody-soaked, seedy L.A. tale of thugs, strippers and private dicks, "Too Late" is one heckuva pulpy, talkie movie.
Told in a clever, scrambled time sequence of five acts, "Too Late" delivers the goods with a grand finale, which uh, is really the opening salvo. Private eye Hawkes tries valiantly, as does the audience, to solve a mighty tangled web of intrigue and mystery, which actually leads to a delicious and satisfying reveal.
Do yourself a favour.
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ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING
CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
john sekerka
Simon Pegg + Monty Python + Robin Williams = a royal mess. Damn.What an absolute shame: a wasted gathering of some primo comedic talent and saddling them with a lazy, connect the dots script plays nicely as a pedantic Disney-style feature, ... except for the f-bombs, and a tasteless dick joke. What the hell?
Too bad, too, too bad. No really, this is bad.
Nice premise: an everyday bumpkin gets the magical power to do, wait for it ... absolutely anything! Fun right? Was fun. Was called "Bruce Almighty". Still, could've been alright with that zany British humour on board, and no matter what Pegg is saddled with, he is an enjoyable screen presence. Yet the jokes miss, there's no riveting storyline - an achievement when aliens (a reunited Monty Python gang), a talking dog (Robin Williams' final hurrah), and the end of days are involved.
Edit the naughty adult bits out (which add absolutely nothing anyways), and go straight to kiddie video. Please.
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TEN THOUSAND SAINTS
APPLE CORE
john sekerka
Rebellious teenagers, screwed up adults, sex, drugs and rock and roll; "Ten Thousand Saints" is an enticing mess that tackles well worn movie conflicts with fresh perspective.
The kids ain't alright, and their hippy-dippy parents may be worse. Small town tragedy leads to big city problems as everyone tries to come of age in am unexpected short time frame. Set in the tinderbox eighties of New York City, "Ten Thousand Saints" chronicles a rather complicated family web that unwinds during a city wide upheaval. Riding a turbulent father and son bond, it revolves around a couple of terrific performances from Ethan Hawke and Asa Butterfield, whose openness, foibles and vitality are reminiscent of "Boyhood". Not a bad comparison if one is needed.
What happens, and a lot happens, gives all the characters a chance to grow up. How they step up, back, or sideways, propels the film from generic, cause and effect fodder, to a thought-provoking and engrossing piece of celluloid.
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COCONUT HERO
LOVE AND DEATH
john sekerka
Suicide is painful, especially when it is botched. Botched up good.
Mike Tyson is not a boxer. In fact he's an average, gangly teen, struggling with growing pains, which range from family strife to bullying at the hands of a younger kids. He dreams of a better, heavenly place, and decides to bypass the normal scenic route most take to our demise. Methodical, caring and meticulous, he leaves a reminder note for Mom to feed the fish, and prints up an obituary in the local paper. This is small town life, with small town futures, small town quirks, small town time.
Unfortunately for Mike, and fortunately for the film's plot, he fails. His ensuing journey of self-discovery is a sweet one, filled with much silliness from various elders who offer misguided guidance, and seem oblivious to Mike's undeterred pursuit of his one goal.
Only love can stick a fork in Mike's road, and the charming and surprising way it plays out, makes this little gem quite a worthwhile watch.
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THE PROGRAM
LANCE A LOT
john sekerka
A rather scathing Lance Armstrong story - what a surprise.
Starting off with Armstrong's introduction to the holy grail of cycling, Le Tour de France, "The Program" wastes little time developing character, but instead jumps cannonball style into the chemical pool. It's very simple poetry: to compete, you have to cheat; and young Lance hops on board. The rest is well documented history: a brutal fight with testicular cancer, a miraculous recovery, some balls jokes, seven Tour victories, cancer foundation glory, millions of dollars, the fall from grace, the end.
Telling nothing we don't know, "The Program" relies on documenting the most sensational scandal of sports doping history in a methodical, well-paced manner. And as juicy as the story may be,the film fails to generate anything in way of sympathy, outrage or tension. We don't really get to know who the hell Lance Armstrong is, where he came from, how he compared with his chief rivals (Jan Ullrich is not even mentioned), and what his personal life was like (we see a quick marriage and glimpses of kids, but nothing else).
"The Program" is so Lance centered that it lives and dies with its lead. Ben Foster does an admirable job as the stoic cyclist, but his deadpan performance is as lifeless as Armstrong's public persona. There is never any depth revealed, nor hinted at.
Recommended for those not familiar with the crazy tale, if such an audience exists.
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I AM DEAD BUT I HAVE FRIENDS
ROCK ON
john sekerka
The sad fact of aging rockers is that the romantic notion of going out in a spectacular flame and leaving behind a beautiful corpse is but a distant dream. Instead, life is an endless gig at puny pubs, where greying beards and beer bellies have usurped any cutting edge that came naturally with youth. Still, the music lives on, and the magic of rock and roll endures.
"I Am Dead But I Have Friends" tracks the journey of a good time band that loses their singer on the eve of a comeback tour, and scrambles to complete their final act. This turns out be a multi-buddy road trip movie, that diverts a group of jovial Belgians from their L.A. destination through a myriad of comedic fumbles, which lands them in Innu territory Schefferville.
Handling life and death situations with slapstick can be dicey, but the genuine camaraderie between the players keeps this runaway train on the tracks. It helps to have a fondness for rock and roll lifestyle.
What an odd little movie.
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MY GOLDEN DAYS
SO FRENCH
john sekerka
Harking back to the glory days of French cinema, when Francois Truffaut introduced super cool Parisian chic to the world, "My Golden Days" (a terrible translation of "Trois Souvenirs de ma Jeunesse") colourfully captures the carefree escapades of wild, romantic youth.
Everyone is cool. Everyone smokes. Everyone is busy living the life they will soon relish only in glazed-eyed memories. This a well acted, lovely tale of a couple of kids, stumbling through adult weight emotions, baggage and heartbreak. "My Golden Days" isn't so much a fond ode to lost youth, as it is a reminder that the crux of life may come at any time, and can be cruelly short.
The French love it, bestowing a slew of film awards as proof, and you may too.
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DEADPOOL
MARVEL THIS
john sekerka
Look, Marvel movies have their place: they offer comic style fun, action and escapism, and well, little else. The plots are silly. The fight scenes are ridiculously endless. The acting is tolerable in a tongue-in-cheek kinda way. And the product placement is outta this world. The films take turns trying to outCGI one another. Oh, and they make a helluva lotta dough.
Even though there have been a couple of pretty good adaptations, most in the series are forgettable fluff. That's the starting point here, but with a twist. "Deadpool" is the ultimate anti-hero: a wisecracking vigilante with a scarred mug and an obsession with self-pleasuring. This movie is filthy with cuss words, explicit kills, and kinky sex. Keep the kids at home for pete's sake!
Though the plot and fighting suffer from the usual Marvel pitfalls, there's enough biting hilarity here to make it the company's most outlandish film escapade. Ryan Reynolds fires one liners as fast as his Desert Eagles, and he's deadpan charming during both. Slick pacing and witty banter makes for a thrilling, fun ride.
As in most Marvel cinema projects, company kingpin Stan Lee pops up in a quick cameo, except this time it's in a peeler bar. Har!
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THE EYE OF THE STORM
LIFE SOLDIER
john sekerka
African child soldiers make irresistible press fodder; combining the heartbreaking innocence of the young with misguided political atrocities of the old.
"Eye of the Storm" zooms in on one particular case, that of a captured rebel, who has spent his life fighting in the brutal Burkina Faso mines conflict. Caught, caged, and treated like a wild animal, the soldier acts the beast reputation that accompanies him. Enter a well to do female lawyer, tasked with representing the prisoner on his way to the gallows.
Naturally, not all is as it seems (otherwise we would not have much of a movie), and matters get mighty complicated as the case develops.
Marred by a rather crude, low budget, cinematography style, "Eye of the Storm" is saved by the stellar leads. Maimouna Ndiaye and Fargass Assande dominate every scene, and their complicated, engrossing relationship raises this film above the standard preachy mode.
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THE LEGEND OF BARNEY THOMSON
SHAVE AND A HAIRCUT
john sekerka
Barney Thomson is not having a good day, nor a good life. Relegated to third chair in a small barber shop, and about to have that chair pulled out from under him. Aren't we all?
Best known for incendiary characters, Robert Carlyle steps in front and behind the camera (he directs) to create a jittery, bumbling shmoe whose mundane life is a notch below non descript. What barber wears a slicked back mullet? Barney. Who's a middle-aged, whimpering Momma's boy that serves his berth donor's every whim? Barney. Who's life is suddenly turned into a series of very unfortunate events which threaten to spiral into cataclysmic eruption? Barney.
Carlyle is superb. Emma Thompson, as his overbearing mother, is even better. Hardly recognizable, Thompson is a stormy force: the queen bee to Carlyle's worker. Sporting vertical wrinkles, a leopard coat, and garish lipstick, the bingo enthusiast drops a suitcase in the middle of nowhere, and Barney obediently scurries to fetch it. Hilarious.
Hilarious, and dark. There's a record body count piling up. Freezers are being filled. The coppers are hot and cold on the trail. Whatever will Barney do? There's only one way to find out.
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PERFECT DAY
GIMME THE ROPE
john sekerka
How many foreign aid workers does it take to extract a big, bulbous body from a drinking well?
Good question, especially when dealing with a war torn, mid-nineties Bosnia. Benecio Del Toro is the gruff but sentimental leader land-rovering around the mine-filled countryside, helping the locals any which way he can. A hilarious Tim Robbins, a dead pan interpreter, a fresh newbie, an ex-flame, and small village
boy are along for the seemingly endless drives, searching for a rope. Yup, a rope.
Whilst all this seems rather ridiculous, and there certainly are comedic moments, this is really a dark stab at war ravaged survival at its bleakest. Trying to bring some semblance of order, the aid gang encounters endless roadblocks of various kinds, nationalities and priorities.
"Perfect Day" is a terrific film, which uses absurdist situations to lighten the mood, yet never strays from the real horrors of the situation at hand. The perfect, and absolutely apt ending seals the deal.
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THE HATEFUL EIGHT
HANGIN' AROUND
john sekerka
Why the hell would Tarantino shoot a claustrophobic talkie in glorious 70mm? Cuz he's a goddamn filmmaking nutbar. Some say genious. I say nutbar.
Gathering a carefully sculpted cast of mysterious, misfit characters in an isolated wooden cabin, in the middle of a winter blizzard, with plenty of guns and plenty of motive to use said guns, is a delicious recipe for clever word play, tricky storytelling, and the inevitable flying bullets. Yeehaw!
Like a western "Reservoir Dogs", the focus is on character reveal, deception, revenge, and plenty of cuss words. Great performances, outlandish twists, ridiculous situations, and a rousing score by spaghetti western king Ennio Morricone - how can ya go wrong?
You cannot. That was not really a question.
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INGRID BERGMAN: IN HER OWN WORDS
THE PACKRAT
john sekerka
Every ten years, movie starlet Ingrid Bergman changed her life: countries, husbands, studios, directors and sometimes children. She loved life, and lived it to the fullest, often to the chagrin of complacent society, but always to the utter delight of the paparazzi.
In an exhaustive two-hours, Stig Bjorkman gathers together endless streams of photographs, film clips, home movies and diary passages, from movie's biggest packrat. We are whisked from Sweden, to America, to Italy, to some island that I can't remember anymore. It's all quite dizzying. Her children speak fondly of her joie de vivre, and the all too brief time she actually spent raising them.
Bergman was truly an original, an actor who sandwiched a couple of Oscar nods with an eight year "penance" exile, for her indiscretions.
It's all rather engrossing, for about an hour. But rather repetitive after that.
In the end, this document is but a very large canvas brimming with juicy stories, desperately in need of a ruthless editor.
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THE REVENANT
GRUNTWORK
john sekerka
This is one big film. Big stars. Big story. Big landscapes. Big adventures. Big bear. Makes for blockbuster gold, especially with Hollywood golden boy-man Leo DiCaprio taking an absolute beating throughout. Getting mauled by a bear (repeatedly), and buried alive in a frozen wasteland, Leo Lazarus rises and crawls around in search of redemption. It's the ultimate survival dude show.
Anyone ever forced to start a fire in adverse conditions will be amazed what Leo can do in the dead of blustery winter, without a shelter, matches, nor a propane tank. It's astonishing.
Please sit down.
There's more. Leo is so beat up he can only gurgle and grunt, which makes communication rather difficult. When were lozenges invented for pete's sake? Grunting through most of the film is a major acting feat, right up there with not washing his hair, and the ability to cross fast moving rivers without getting a soaker. Most would have called in the park ranger long ago, but not Leo.
"The Revenant" has a lot going for it: star-power (featuring a deliciously scummy Tom Hardy), a gripping revenge story, beautifully choreographed fight scenes, grungy pioneer dudes, spectacular photography, some nifty, eye-popping scenes, and apparently a randy bear who loves him some Leo.
Don't we all?
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2 NIGHTS TILL MORNING
LANGUAGE BARRIER
john sekerka
Oh hey, the perfect one night stand: a couple of buff travellers from far away lands (Finland, France) on a brief Vilnius stopover, conveniently connect without the awkward hinderance of language. What could go wrong?
How about volcanic ash grounding planes? Ouch. Everyone has hidden baggage, just waiting for that escape flight, but when delays force the issue that luggage starts to come out.
Turns out there's way more to each of the strangers than meets the eye, and the series of reveals makes for quite a yummy movie. Tackling the age old male-female push and pull battle is twisted smartly here, as attraction and assumption makes for a dicey equation. What starts as a plain romance tale turns into a nifty cat and mouse game that eschews physicality for cerebral ventures.
Relationships, even those quickies, are damn complicated. Who knew?
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LOUDER THAN BOMBS
TICKTICKTICK
john sekerka
Hiding in a dark drama vehicle from Norway, Jesse Eisenberg delivers a staggering performance that tops his ridiculously prolific, yet young career. Sparring with heavyweights Gabriel Byrne and Isabelle Huppert (and excellent newcomer David Druid) , Eisenberg stealthily steals scenes as a multi-facetted, complicated character, wading through classic family tumult: tragedy and birth.
Broken families need fixing, but sometimes there are too many pieces to pick up, and are often broken further during clean up. Nothing new here, but told in a clever manner, unravelling a complicated story that focuses back on the three male characters, each dealing with a major life transition.
"Louder Than Bombs" is jarring in it's honesty, capturing the nuance of first world, present day generational conflicts, with a third world backdrop.
An important film that lives long after a screening.
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ROAR
ERROAR
john sekerka
Remember the early days of colour tv, when Sunday afternoons were filled with cheapo Disney
vignettes starring rascally vermin getting into all kinds of home alone mischief? Pesky raccoons in the kitchen? Sly foxes in the den? Silly monkeys in the dining area? How about man-eating lions in the family room?
Meow.
What the hell was Noel Marshall thinking way back in 1981? Not only did he invite lions into his home, but tigers, cheetahs, and cougars as well, and then his whole family, just to see what would happen. You can't make this stuff up. Marshall, a Hollywood producer ("The Exorcist"!), his animal rights advocate wife/actress Tippy Hedron, and their chirpy kids, actually lived with several big cats (mainly zoo castoffs) in their California digs, before they decided to take it to the next level.
Hoo boy.
The ensuing movie features about 150 carnivorous felines chasing the family in very close quarters, in what amounts to a bizarre comedy snuff film. Hilarity vies with sheer terror for screen time as the cats turn from chummy snuggling to full on attack mode.
"No animals were harmed in the making of this film, but 70 people were"!
That includes a cameraman who was scalped, and daughter (future starlet) Melanie Griffith who required facial reconstructive surgery. That's the back story, the front story is almost as crazy. Since the unpredictable cats dictated onscreen action, coherent shooting was next to impossible . There must have been a plot, but as years passed (17 in fact), budgets ballooned, and workers fled for their lives, what was left was a mishmash of chase scenes. But what chase scenes. Up close and very personal, "Roar" is an unsettling series of vignettes in glorious technicolour, that is always on the precipice of real life tragedy. Like "Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom", if Marlin Perkins got mauled in the bush. There is absolutely no way to keep your eyes off the screen. Is the public ready for this three decades on?
We may never be ready.
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HITCHCOCK/TRUFFAUT
FRANK MEETS ALFIE
john sekerka
In 1963, during the frenzy stirred by "Psycho", fresh French filmmaker Francois Truffaut interviewed Alfred Hitchcock in a series of interrogation style questions. The resulting book became an insider's bible to movie making 101. It was long, dry, and very clinical.
Why the hell would anyone think this would make a watchable documentary? Well, thankfully Kent Jones did. Unearthing original audio tapes of the friendly interrogation shows the conversation to be a lively and thrilling one; something film nuts would eat up.
Adding complimentary commentary from the likes of Martin Scorsese, Kiyoshi Kurosawa and Wes Anderson, brings the whole event to a new level. This was a monumental meeting of two of the greatest directors of all time [one just starting out, one already peaked] dissecting the medium in a thrilling lesson format. All that, and revisiting some of celluloid's greatest moments, makes this a class not to be skipped.
"I have a perfect cure for a sore throat: cut it." - Alfred Hitchcock
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I SMILE BACK
NOT FUNNY
john sekerka
Hoping for a rib-tickling hi jinx escapade with razor sharp witticisms from Sarah Silverman? Not happening.
Instead, "I Smile Back" slaps audience faces awake with a desperate housemom coke binge scene. Its realism is disconcerting, and quite shocking. Laney is living the dream: suburban home, steady income hubbie, a couple of cute replicants; what could go wrong? Laney goes wrong. Addictively wrong. Drugs and extramarital sex seem appropriate escape mechanisms from dullsville, but in Laney's case, there is something deeper and darker within, that fuels her self-destructive behaviour. She's smart enough to sneak her vices, for a while, but depression wins out in the end.
Struggling with demons is especially hard when searching for reason where reason may not exist. People wanna help. Laney wants help. But they don't know how, and besides, life keeps interrupting. "I Smile Back" is an exercise in frustration, much like life itself. Silverman delivers an astounding performance, which covers various personalities (druggie, charming gal, selfless mom, slut, victim, drunk, bitch) with equal aplomb.
It's a tough transition from comedic icon to dramatic actor. Robin Williams almost made it. Steve Carell is there. And now, Sarah Silverman.
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WILD LIFE (VIE SAUVAGE)
GRID OFF
john sekerka
Living off the grid sure sounds romantic, but unfortunately in real life, living off the land, romance is not top priority.
"Wild Life" traces a drastic family separation when the mother decides to escape a communal hippie culture she no longer believes in. Kids are involved, and it gets messy. Based on true events, this film tracks a decade long, on the lam odyssey that features a dedicated but devoted to his cause father, and his sons. Their's is an idyllic, simple life, which grows ever so complicated as the boys grow into men, and their mother elevates her familial search.
As Paco, Matthieu Kassovitz delivers the right mix of fatherly love, staunch stubbornness, with just a hint of madness. There is little right in any of the events, especially the French justice system which seems geared toward creating animosity, instead of proper mediation. When confronted by the authorities, Paco retorts to charges of cult behaviour with, "If it's a husband and wife and kids, then it's not a cult. It's a family."
The film avoids taking sides, and leaves with a handful of thought-provoking questions. Be prepared for heated, post viewing discussions.
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ENTERTAINMENT
EXCRUTIATING
john sekerka
This, without a doubt, will be the toughest watch in recent memory.
Terrible stand up comedians have their place, and can offer entertainment value in some form or another. Enter Greg Turkington, who as his alter ego Neil Hamburger has been mastering the craft of truly unremarkable, offensive, deplorable, mundane stand-up comedy, for decades. It is a disconcerning experience, watching an uncomfortable, struggling bomb go off on stage. There is heckling, there is groaning, there is long awkward silences, there is confusion, there is laughter, and sometimes, there is mayhem. Neil Hamburger is not for everyone. The act is a performance art piece, that relies heavily on crowd response, whether it be indifference, warmth or explosive hatred.
It is a tough act to pull off on the big screen.
Instead of documenting this bizarre phenomena, "Entertainment" uses the Neil Hamburger experience as the centerpiece in a hazy, dreamy, mind and road trip that mixes equal parts Antonioni and Lynch. Filmed super wide, it revels in deserted expanses, adding extra bleak factor to the snail paced non-action. It just feels weird.
Shit happens, but seems irrelevant to any story line. John C. Reilly and Michael Cera pop in for oddball cameos, but leave no marks. Hamburger (unnamed for some reason) trudges across wasteland deserted towns to perform before indifferent crowds, with predictable results. Much time is spent on the between gig down times.
Is this a joke? Is this art? Is this a movie? Is there anything to "get"?
What it is, is a truly unsettling and painful experience for everyone involved, especially you.
That may be the point.
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LIFE
SNAPPING JAMES
john sekerka
Troubled photographer. Moody, genius actor. LIFE magazine. Sounds like cinema bonanza.
Almost.
Dennis Stock's iconic still of a sopping wet James Dean wading through Manhattan is a grand piece of art, and former NME photog Anton Corbijn attempts to translate that magic on to a moving screen. Corbijn has tread similar waters with an excellent look at Ian Curtis in "Control" (young, troubled, moody, dead), but instead of telling the story, he seems to be reaching for something special here.
Though reaching is understood. Dean was a mumbling mystery; an original maverick, who would reshape the Hollywood landscape in three classic films (two posthumously), before driving his racing Porsche into immortality.
As a hustling freelancer trying to get his foot in LIFE magazine's door, Stock locked on to Dean, knowing he was something special: his ticket. Their complicated, short relationship, from professional and subject, to drinking buddies, to something only hinted at, is the crux of "LIFE".
Poster boy Robert Pattinson is oddly awkward and unlikable as the shutterbug, whilst Dane DeHaan plays the wicked rebel as a whispering softie. It's an oddball movie, filled with oddball characters, in an oddball time. The performances are sublime, and Corbijn delivers the time capsule (1955) perfectly. The film is quite fascinating, but like Dean's career, it seems a tad incomplete.
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JAMES WHITE
BLACK AND WHITE
john sekerka
It's all about James.
James White is a young, upper middle class New Yorker, eager to party, easy to anger. He is
hard to like, but easy to pal around with. James is a happy drunk, but only for a minute. James
is attempting adult life, while his parents are leaving it.
With a wide open world to explore, James is begrudgingly forced into a caregiver roll, suddenly
throwing his carefree, privileged ways upside down. James is a selfish, conniving man, and often
makes questionable decisions based on his lifelong lifestyle. This leads to fights, missed
opportunities, and relationship conflicts.
The brunt of this brutally honest movie is spent taking care of his terminally ill mother,
played with a perfect blend of physical helplessness and mental toughness by Cynthia Nixon.
Their's is a bumpy relationship born out of guilt, stubbornness and blood bonds. As James,
Christopher Abbott is terrific, dominating the screen (he is in every shot), eliciting
alternating waves of empathy and vitriol for a character as naked as can be.
There are no easy answers, just a string of tough questions. Conflicted human behaviour
has seldom been tackled so succinctly on the big screen.
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THE GRUMP
THE FINNISH LINE
john sekerka
In the 1976 Olympics Lasse Viren cemented his place as the premier long distance runner in
world with a 5,000 and 10,000m double, matching his 1972 feat. Not much has gone right for
Finland since. At least not according to grandpa.
Grumpy old men is a long standing comedic device in the film industry, for very good reason.
Generation gaps leads to the funny. Throw in country versus city living and we have the
knee-slapping funny. Add the futuristic fangled electronic age devices to the mix and the
rib-hurting funny ensues.
Pretty standard stuff, but there's a nostalgic sadness when grandpa is thrown into modern
city life. He's sexist, racist, overbearing and stubborn. And sometimes he's right. Lessons
are learned, both from the old man, and from his ultra modern offspring, as classes and
generations meet, argue, fight and crash cars.
Looking back with rosy glasses, grandpa pines for the good old days, though when the glasses
come off we see a history much more complex. In the end, it's not a matter of who is right,
and who is wrong, it is just about being, and moving on.
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KAUBOJI (COWBOYS)
I WANNA BE A COWBOY
john sekerka
Small town, local theatre productions can be utterly delicious in their awfulness. Now imagine such a venture featuring a band of Croatian misfits stumbling to produce a western play.
Not as far fetched as it sounds.
Westerns are huge in eastern Europe, and the most famous book/movie/tv series, Winnetou was filmed in the Croatian mountains.
Not as slapsticky as it sounds.
In spite of the cast of colourful characters, the humour is subtle and droll, in need of a rimshot or two. "Cowboys" perfectly apes the agonizing process of creating art from deep within. A process that opens up complex avenues well worth traversing.
Not as complicated as it sounds.
A play is busy berthing, while a director is busy dying, characters are busy evolving, and everything makes a weird kind of sense in the end.
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THE SINKING OF SOZOPOL
MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
john sekerka
Be prepared for a soaking. This is one wet film.
There is rain, there is ocean, there is vodka. Ten bottles worth in fact.
When Chavo returns to the seaside village of his past, he stocks the fridge with alcohol and
nothing else. This is a mission. With nothing left, the plan is to drink and leave to join the
others. Is there life after Vodka?
What seems like straight forward, gloom and doom Euro fare, turns out to be a time slipping
exercise that introduce dead characters and crucial plot lines, which only come together at
the very end.
A very bleak, gray, stormy trudge, "The Sinking of Sozonol" is a visual ordeal that tweaks
curiosity with every little reveal. Kinda like life itself. Known for documentary work,
Bodev's foray into fiction borrows the awful truth baggage approach from his previous works,
yielding an interesting hybrid feel to cinema.
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BABY(A)LONE
Bonnie and X
john sekerka
The kids are not alright.
"Baby(a)lone" is an unsettling primer about disenfranchised youth dealing (poorly) with contemporary first world problems. It is also a very good looking piece of cinema.
Like a kiddie version of Bonnie and Clyde, the story deals with early teeners struggling through life whilst adults insist they behave as innocent children. A laughable impossibility in today's times.
The kids strike out on their own in an "us against the world" salvo, which of course, is unsustainable. The short adventure is full of life - some good and plenty bad - and that is their goal. There is smoking, drinking, driving, fooling around, and violence. The violence ranges from pillow fights to lead pipes. Kids being kids. Kids being adults.
"Baby(a)lone" has plenty of layers brimming under the major plot line. The unnamed boy appears to have a split personality, acting up at the urging of his nasty self, the wise allecky Johnny who has a large X on his hoodie. In the end it becomes a bit of a mystery as to exactly who he is running from.
This is Luxembourg's entry for the Oscar race, one helluva stylish film, and the introduction of a dazzling actress in Charlotte Elsen as the hypnotizing Shirley.
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MAN VS.
CHECK MATE
john sekerka
Back in 1971 at the Crystal Palace Bowl Garden Party, Pink Floyd slipped
dry ice in the lake to kick off their very loud set, killing all the fish. There's a scene in "Man Vs." where a loud explosion is followed by ex-fish floating on the surface of a lake. Sadly, this is no trippy Pink Floyd concert movie, but a bizarre survival man reality show gone awry. Gone very, very awry.
Armed only with a handful of video cameras, TV reality star Doug is dropped in a remote Northern Ontario location to film his five day survival excursion. Doug is smart, resourceful and quite handy. He builds a nice shelter, starts a fire with a pop can, traps rabbits, and plays chess solitaire.
This makes for a very informative YouTube instructional, but a rather dull movie, so director/writer Adam Massey decides to turn this pleasant little nature adventure upside down.
Doug soon finds himself not so alone in the remote wilderness, but is a little daft in putting together all the clues: the boom, dead fish in lake, his sat phone disassembled, chess board maneuvers, life sized rabbit traps. He thinks he's in "Deliverance", but we know better.
The lead up is well structured, with just the right amount of mystery and suspense, but the final, over the top reveal is a bit of a clunker. A more ambiguous ending would have worked wonders.
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THE GAMES MAKER
BOARDING SCHOOL
john sekerka
Warning: this is a silly, tangent-loving, art deco carnival family film that Disney used to crank out before Walt became a popsicle. Meaning kids with a short attention span will dig it, and stuffy adults should revert to their carefree days and just go with it.
There's a helluva lotta colourful crap crammed into this bursting bit of celluloid, leaving very little time for contemplation, which is fine, cuz the ride is the joy here. The crazy plot involves board game inventors, balloon rides, sinking schools, an invisible girl, and of course Ed Asner.
Creating whimsical magic worlds can go horribly wrong, but "The Games Maker" is smart enough to keep the action moving fast enough to distract from gaping plot holes, and enhanced with a cool retro vibe, it is a wonderful feast for the eyes.
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DRUNK STONED BRILLIANT DEAD: THE STORY OF NATIONAL LAMPOON
FOOD FIGHT!
john sekerka
Animal House, the Vacation movies, Saturday Night Live ... all the glory resides on screens big and small, yet the germ of subversive, frat boy comedy under the National Lampoon banner belongs in print. And it takes a documentary film to hammer that point home.
Aside from a bevy of great early performances by the Lemmings comedy troupe (many would go on to SNL), and the Lampoon Comedy Hour radio bits (ditto), the rightful focus here is on the subversive comedic rag that morphed from the Harvard Lampoon back in 1970, to become the adult version of MAD magazine. Started and run by two ridiculously prolific smart asses Doug Kenney and Henry Beard, the monthly satire lowered acerbic taste levels to new found depths.
Buy this magazine or we'll shoot this dog. Check.
Hitler alive and on tropical vacation. Check.
If Ted Kennedy drove a Volkswagen he'd have been president. Check.
Taboo? What's that?
All great stuff here, and way too much for just one doc, so Tirola smartly zips through the obligatory John Belushi clips and focuses on mad genius creator Doug Kenney, whose story is crazier than anything he created in fiction. A Doug Kenney documentary (who?) would have bombed, so kudos for pulling a fast one.
Absolutely riveting.
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