Movie Reviews Archives - Page 23 of 37

Thursday

18

June 2020

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Bully. Coward. Victim: The Story of Roy Cohn is an esoteric look at an American monster

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

The stain of Roy Cohn may never be fully removed from America. A man who championed Senator Joseph McCarthy’s Red Scare and shepherded Donald Trump through his early days in business, it can be hard to understate his impact on this country. The new documentary Bully. Coward. Victim: The Story of Roy Cohn sheds some light on Cohn’s troubled existence.

Instead of aiming for an overview of Cohn’s life, director Ivy Meeropol focuses her attention on a few aspects of his career and personal interactions. The prosecution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, Meeropol’s grandparents, weighs heavy on the narrative. Meeropol’s father Michael is interviewed in the film, providing an intimate perspective to the specific human cost of Cohn’s carnage.

Meeropol also includes interviews with Cohn’s cousins, who hold nothing but disdain for their relative. The intimacy that these interviews suggest is not necessarily reflected in the documentary, but Meeropol’s angle is a valuable one, especially since there are plenty of works about Cohn’s life. It would, however, be easy to watch the film without realizing the relation between Meeropol and her grandparents.

Cohn’s homosexuality frames much of the narrative. Though closeted for his entire life, Cohn’s sexuality was not exactly much of a secret to those who knew him. Meeropol points out the ample hypocrisy present in Cohn’s endless bigotry toward homosexuals, a key figure in the Lavender Scare who repeatedly denied his own HIV diagnosis even in the last few weeks of his life.

The narrative is much more contemplative about Cohn’s life than biographical. Those who know little about Cohn might feel a little lost amidst Meeropol’s scattershot pacing. She’s a director with a singular focus to carve her own niche with regard to her subject. In that regard, she most certainly succeeds.

Trump doesn’t play a very large role in the documentary, though anyone familiar with his combative nature will see obvious parallels in Cohn’s speech patterns. Meeropol includes plenty of interviews that essentially let Cohn speak for himself. His own words are pretty damning, painting the picture of a detestable man.

The documentary hardly humanizes Cohn, with the “victim” in its title referring to a specific event rather than a general sentiment. There is some sympathy to be garnered in his tragic life, but Meeropol hardly endorse this idea. Cohn is repeatedly referred to as “evil” by subjects, though his true villainy hardly needs to be outlined. In that sense, Meeropol is perhaps a bit generous toward Cohn.

Bully. Coward. Victim: The Story of Roy Cohn is a compelling film, albeit one that hardly tries to be the definitive voice on Cohn’s life. Meeropol is a skilled storyteller with a keen sense of emotion. The documentary is a must watch for anyone seeking a deeper understanding of a truly loathsome figure in American history.

Wednesday

17

June 2020

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The Ghost of Peter Sellers is a fascinating look at the complications of filmmaking

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

Peter Sellers was one of the most talented comedic actors in cinematic history. By most accounts, he was a pretty awful person in both his private and professional life. His behavior hindered or derailed many productions. The documentary The Ghost of Peter Sellers examines his effect on the 1973 comedy Ghost in the Noonday Sun.

Both the documentary and its subject film are directed by Peter Medak, providing an intimate perspective on the material. The Ghost of Peter Sellers occupies a fairly unique place in cinematic lore. Medak interviews several people involved with the original film, providing a rare look behind the curtains into the messy world of show business.

Medak’s great triumph lies in his ability to craft a compelling narrative that doesn’t require the audience to have seen Ghost in the Noonday Sun. After watching the documentary, you may not want to. Noonday Sun looks like a complete and utter disaster from both behind that camera and in front of it, but Medak consistently keeps things interesting, examining the Cyprus location and the various geographical issues presented.

The documentary works as both a vanity project and a valuable piece of film history. Medak is pretty open about how the film continues to haunt him, having played a major role in the downturn of his career. The narrative of the documentary essentially follows him on his path to catharsis, retracing the original film’s various disasters. Medak is an affable figure to watch, conversing with his subjects in a way that’s easy to follow.

As the title suggests, Sellers is the film’s true villain. His behavior on set is outlined in great detail, with most of the subjects backing up Medak’s account of the events. One of Sellers’ own daughters is even interviewed, providing further perspective on her troubled father.

Medak does take care to provide a balanced perspective of Sellers, an immensely complicated figure. He includes a few intimate stories of their interactions, the kind of stuff that biopics about Sellers have dramatized for years. There’s a weird sense of affection present that enriches the documentary.

It’s a fair question to wonder how much of the documentary would be different under the steward of a less biased director. Medak is quite open, but he’s also human. He takes responsibility for being the captain of the ship, not blaming everything on Sellers, but it remains difficult to pinpoint how much of his career trajectory was hindered by the film.

The Ghost of Peter Sellers is a real treat of a documentary perfect for Sellers diehards and film aficionados. Medak didn’t have the career he would have liked, directing few feature films after Noonday. It is quite interesting to watch him retrace the footsteps of his career and the shadow that continues to haunt him.

Wednesday

17

June 2020

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Babyteeth finds solace in the quiet moments

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

It can be hard to admit how little control we have over our own feelings of affection. Even harder when confronted with the reality that those around us will choose to love, often with little considerations to practical circumstance. It’s natural for humans to want to possess at least some degree of control over their surroundings.

At its core, Babyteeth is a film about control. Milla (Eliza Scanlen) is a teenager battling cancer who begins a passionate love affair with a slightly older drug dealer Moses (Toby Wallace). Moses has plenty of charm, but hardly possesses the demeanor suited for the particulars of Milla’s situation, a notion hardly lost on Milla’s parents Henry (Ben Mendelsohn) and Anna (Essie Davis). The heart wants what it wants, forcing Milla’s parents to confront their own reservations for the sake of their daughter’s sense of happiness.

Making her feature directorial debut, Shannon Murphy frames Babyteeth almost like a stage play, with the family home in suburban Australia used as the backdrop for this intimate family drama. Murphy has a strong talent for extracting suspense from each scene, keeping the dramatic tension high throughout the narrative. It’s a quiet kind of film, with Murphy’s long takes letting the emotion play out.

The acting is pretty superb. Scanlen does a great job showcasing Milla’s internal struggle between her lust for life and the realities of her illness. Her relationship with Moses follows predictable patterns but feels genuine. Mendelsohn makes great work of the dark material, a father forced out of his own myopic mindset to take care of his daughter.

Youth illness is a very sad topic, hardly the kind of material that needs to be sensationalized. Murphy manages to find a strong balance between the heavy material and the smaller, harder-to-notice joys of life. Milla is sick, but not necessarily unhappy. The film does a great job exploring the simpler joys of life, namely the interactions that make this complex journey worth it in the long run.

The film does run into some pacing issues. With a runtime of just under two hours, there’s a balance between the main narrative of Milla’s illness and the subplots of the other characters that Murphy occasionally struggles to balance. It feels like there’s more to Anna’s story in particular that gets truncated for the sake of the film’s other ambitions. Obviously two hours is a short amount of time to spend with an entire family’s issues, but the allocation of time is a bit bloated in some areas while undeveloped in others.

Babyteeth is occasionally uncomfortable to watch, a strong debut by Murphy that demonstrates her firm grasp on the complexities of human emotion. Life is short, even for the lucky ones. When faced with an uncertain future, the heart makes allowances beyond that which it might typically consider. Tragedy has a weird way of bringing people together, even those once thought diametrically opposed.

Tuesday

9

June 2020

0

COMMENTS

Seahorse Handles Transgender Pregnancy with Grace and Dignity

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

It would be nice to live in a world where news like Freddy McConnell’s pregnancy wouldn’t make international headlines, leading to a cascade of unfortunate headlines seeking to sensationalize his person life. McConnell, a British transgender man who gave birth to a son in 2018, is an affable individual who understandably shies away from the kind of cringeworthy tabloid coverage that follows him around. Seahorse: The Dad Who Gave Birth seeks to tell his intimate story.

Director Jeanie Finlay captures extensive footage from McConnell’s entire pregnancy. The film does a great job explaining the unique challenges the process presents to trans men. Being off of hormones for any extended period of time is an incredibly taxing endeavor, something that McConnell handles with grace.

The artificial insemination procedures aren’t very different for trans men as for cisgender women, a reality that Finlay highlights quite well. Seahorse presents a refreshingly sober look at pregnancy, a soft-spoken effort to tone down the rhetoric surrounding transgender issues. Much of the film is pretty mundane stuff, but that’s also kind of the point. McConnell isn’t a radical figure. He’s a man who wants a family.

Seahorse does at times struggle with presenting a narrative. Much of the film’s first act centers around McConnell’s relationship with CJ, a masculine-presenting non-binary person, who was initially supposed to co-parent McConnell’s child. CJ exits the narrative early on, leaving Freddy on his own, though with support from his mother among other people.

At a certain point, Finlay stops trying to organize the steps of McConnell’s pregnancy into a cohesive story. The third act suffers from a few meandering sequences that don’t serve any broader narrative. Mundane might be the point, but it’s gets a bit tedious after a while.

Seahorse would likely have benefited from Finlay taking a broader approach to the subject. A quick Google search shows the especially toxic media environment in the UK toward transgender people. None of this is covered in the film, perhaps a missed opportunity to provide some broader context to the audience.

For his part, McConnell expresses a desire to be away from the media spotlight late in the film, a peculiar position for the subject of a documentary to be in. Finlay keeps some understandable distance toward a subject going through an emotionally taxing journey with minimal external support. It is McConnell’s journey more than than that of pregnant transgender men as a whole, a tricky tightrope that many narratives focused on marginalized groups must walk.

Seahorse is a very good film that handles its sensitive subject material with great care. There is the sense that there is plenty left on the table with regard to the subject matter. Perhaps another documentary with broader intentions to capture transphobia in Britain can expand on these themes, but if Seahorse succeeds in its primary objective, the thought might not be there to make another film on this topic.

Thursday

4

June 2020

0

COMMENTS

The Donut King Explores the Origins of a SoCal Institution

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

There are plenty of parts of Los Angeles where it’s hard to drive more than five feet without passing a donut shop. SoCal is home to thousands of independent stores selling the iconic American treat. LA’s Cambodian population dominates the donut market, with over 90% market share across the region. The new film The Donut King explores the man who made much of this possible.

The life of Ted Ngoy is a classic example of the American dream. Escaping Cambodia as a young refugee, Ted arrived in SoCal in the mid 70s, seeking a better life for himself and his family. Recognizing the difficulties of raising a large family on a church janitor’s salary, Ted was drawn to the donut trade, which offered high traffic, long operation hours, and good margins.

After a three-month apprenticeship working for the legendary Winchell’s Donuts, Ted went out of his own, opening his own shop. Quickly learning the trade, Ted expanded rapidly through the region, in the process employing hundreds of his Cambodian countrymen. Ted’s deep-fried empire grew so massive that it severely cut into Winchell’s own market share, in the process keeping east-coast leviathan Dunkin Donuts from expanding westward.

Ngoy makes for a compelling subject, a complex man who squandered much of his empire after developing an unhealthy affection for neighboring Las Vegas. He’s very open about his life’s story, giving a personal touch to director Alice Gu’s broader narrative about how the Cambodian population came to dominate the LA donut market. Gu thoroughly unpacks the material, interviewing executives from Winchell’s and Dunkin Donuts to provide a very digestible explainer on all things donuts.

The film’s biggest struggle lies with its runtime. The Donut King almost justifies spending more than ninety minutes on Ngoy and the SoCal donut market, but the film drags pretty hard for a long stretch in the middle. A solid twenty minutes should have been cut to ease the burden on the narrative.

Gu also includes several animated sequences from films and cartoon references donuts. These cutaways help ease the burden on the repetitive landscape for a while, but they grow stale and tiresome as the narrative progresses.. There’s a very good story in The Donut King, but Gu would’ve done well to trim it down a bit.

The Donut King is a touching love letter to an important slice of SoCal culture and a man who lived the American dream. Ngoy has had his ups and downs in life, but he singlehandedly changed the landscape of a vital LA market. Be sure to grab a pink box full of everyone’s favorite treat before watching.

Friday

15

May 2020

0

COMMENTS

Classic Film: For Ever Mozart

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

Jean-Luc Godard spent much of the 60s crafting experimental films with limited mainstream appeal. Part of the fun of sitting down to watch a Godard is the feeling of experiencing the director grappling with his thoughts in real time. That kind of directorial approach doesn’t always work, but it’s often very entertaining to watch.

Godard’s 60s output possesses the added advantage of being crafted against the backdrop of its era, full of vibrant color schemes and fashion. There’s always plenty for the eyes, even if the mind has no idea what’s going on. In 1997’s For Ever Mozart, Godard returns to his earlier themes, albeit without the joys that buoyed his art at indecipherable moments.

The film is broken up into four parts, each introduced with its own name. One sequence sees actors auditioning for a film, frequently discarded after only uttering a few words. Another shows a hostage situation during the Bosnian war. There is some continuity in the sense that several of the actors appear in multiple parts, but the film hardly possesses anything resembling a narrative. One’s ability to describe things that look like a plot should not be mistaken to imply that there actually is a narrative.

The acting is stifled and bland. None of this can be blamed on the talent themselves, as it is fairly hard to imagine anyone making good work out of a painfully obtuse script with no obvious sense of purpose. There is nowhere for a performer to direct their energy.

Godard is rarely accessible, but For Ever Mozart is little more than foolish ramblings by a director who seems oddly bored by his musings. At some points, it looks like he’s trying to provide a commentary on the value of art. It could be true that art can’t save the world, but to draw that from this film is to give it credit that it woefully does not deserve.

The scenery in the second sequence is pleasant to look at, something to remember. The complete absence of narrative leaves little for the mind to latch onto it after the credits roll. Godard takes a couple swings at philosophical one-liners here and there, but nothing leaves a lasting impression.

For Ever Mozart is a big waste of time for anyone other than diehard Godard fans eager to complete his filmography. Even then, it hardly holds much value. There is no way this film would have been made if it weren’t for the name recognition of its director, a sad reflection on the medium.

Thursday

14

May 2020

0

COMMENTS

Classic Film: Un Flic

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

Jean-Pierre Melville’s final film is a tough nut to crack. There are parts of Un Flic that feel oddly undeveloped, the product of a director less concerned with plot than the broader themes the narrative spends its time exploring. For a master of the medium, sometimes that’s okay.

The narrative follows a robbery and its aftermath. Simon (Richard Crenna) leads the gang in their efforts to carry out of their thievery while Detective Coleman (Alain Delon) works the case. At the center of their feud is Cathy (Catherine Deneuve), Simon’s mistress who flirts with Coleman. The story and character relationships often exist on two different planes, simultaneously distant and intimate.

The film’s great triumph is a lengthy heist sequence in the second half, where Simon boards a train via helicopter to rob a rival gang of their heroin. Melville pulls off a fantastic technical feat for a film made in 1972, using minimal dialogue while maintaining an intense level of suspense. For a director making his last feature, Un Flic would be worth a watch just for the craftsmanship.

While the heist sequence is the best part of the film, it does come at a broader cost to the narrative. Stealing heroin from a rival gang has practically nothing to do with Un Flic’s broader story. Taking a twenty-minute detour out of a hundred-minute runtime does hinder the character development quite a bit.

Melville creates a rather interesting dynamic where the film operates largely without a protagonist. Coleman appears too infrequently to fit the bill, a gruff man with practically no personality beyond Delon’s irresistible charm. Simon is sort of like an anti-hero, except Melville doesn’t really provide a reason to root for him.

Some of this is rational is explained through the film’s tagline, “The only feelings mankind has ever inspired in policemen are those of indifference and derision.” Coleman isn’t in pursuit of justice, a man who acts oddly cruel to a transgender woman for no apparent reason. He’s stoic without the obvious desire for justice that drives many detectives in film.

Melville concerns himself with very complex themes in Un Flic while keeping the narrative mostly at the surface. It’s not a particularly deep film, though the kind that’s bound to keep you thinking long after the credits roll. It is not Melville’s best work.

Narratives are tricky beast. There’s only so much time for a director to explore contemplative themes once considerations to story and character are given. Melville skimps on those in Un Flic in favor of headier ambitions. He doesn’t always succeed, but the film is worth watching if only to see a master of the craft at work with his thoughts.

Saturday

9

May 2020

1

COMMENTS

World Cinema: Tomboy

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

Gender nonconformity in children remains a highly controversial issue in the fight for transgender equality. Supporters of LGBTQ rights are often accused of wishing for the “transing” of children, putting aside the rather obvious point that all transgender adults were at one point, children themselves. Gender-affirming care is a proven method for alleviating gender dysphoria.

The 2011 film Tomboy features a young ten-year old child, assigned female at birth, named Laure (Zoé Héran) who adopts the identity of Mickäel as he plays with new friends in a small French town. Mickäel might be trans, a point the film leaves unclear. That clarity is not really all that important, as Mickäel would be too young for any kind of treatment other than a social transition, which makes up the bulk of the narrative.

Mickäel spends his summer playing with the local kids in his apartment building, successfully integrating himself into their social framework, even earning the romantic affections of his neighbor Lisa (Jeanne Disson). Mickäel lives a happy life, supported by his six-year-old sister Jeanne (Malonn Lévana) in a highly impressive performance by the young actress.

With school just around the horizon, Mickäel’s secret can’t stay safe forever. Director Céline Sciamma does an excellent job depicting the social dynamics of the young play group, crafting a quite compelling film with minimalist aesthetics. The film works really well for a while without much of a story, powered by some phenomenal acting.

Tomboy falls apart when it comes time to deal with the stakes at hand, an irresponsibly rushed third act that squanders the film’s ample goodwill. Films need conflict, but Sciamma doesn’t seem all that concerned with tackling the issues she presents to her audience so much as she looks eager to wrap the thing up. There’s so much depth to the family construct that goes totally ignored in favor of cheap sequences that play too hard for shock value.

Films obviously don’t need happy endings. Children can experience heartbreak and misery just as anyone else can. Sciamma plays fast and loose with her narrative in such a way that undercuts its beauty. The world is a cruel place, but there should be some semblance of an explanation for depicting such malice on screen. Sciamma throws it out there without bothering to explain or defend her film’s actions.

Whether Mickäel is trans is not really the point, though anyone looking to answer with a definitive no should look no further than a clay appendage inserted into one’s modified swimsuit. The child clearly displayed feelings of gender dysphoria. What comes after that really isn’t the point, as the film only covers brief snippets of Mickäel’s life.

The portion that we do get to see includes a lot of irresponsible parenting, a bizarre narrative decision. Sciamma clearly wants to explore gender diversity, but she’s completely careless in her approach. Tomboy is a well-crafted film, but one devoid of the kind of compassion desperately needed in these types of situations.

Friday

8

May 2020

0

COMMENTS

The Musical Treatment Works Well for a Charming Rebooted Valley Girl

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

Jessica Rothe and Josh Whitehouse star in VALLEY GIRL

A film like 1983’s Valley Girl seems an obvious choice for the remake treatment. Somewhat complicating that proposition is the idea that practically every 80s homage that’s been crafted in the decades since its release has at least in part borrowed from the classic teen comedy. The 2020 version of Valley Girl is tasked with not only adapting its source material, but also distinguishing itself in a crowded very space.

The bulk of the 2020 Valley Girl is told via flashback, as an older Julie (Alicia Silverstone) fondly reflects on her younger self’s (Jessica Rothe) high school days, hanging out at the mall and practicing aerobics with her friends. With her daughter deciding between an abroad trip to Japan and the boy she’d be leaving behind, the 80s serve as a backdrop for Julie to demonstrate that she’s not as dated as some of the “Valleyspeak” the region popularized.

The big distinguisher between the remake and the original is the presence of many elaborate musical numbers set to covers of 80s classics such “Kids in America” and “I Melt with You.” Choreographed by Mandy Moore, the sequences work pretty well, even though the covers are pretty terrible, the kind of stuff you’d hear on Kidz Bop. The film makes practically no case for why the music should be there, except in the sense that it’s fun to see people dancing in vibrant colors.

A refresher on the derivative nature of the original Valley Girl’s narrative, which borrowed heavily from Romeo & Juliet might be helpful going in to the 2020 version. Remake or not, Julie falling for a guy, Randy (Josh Whitehouse), her parents don’t approve of is a fairly generic plot. Rothe and Whitehouse have pretty good chemistry, a romance that is more satisfactory than compelling.

Putting aside the fact that none of the cast look young enough to be in high school, they’re quite entertaining to watch. As Julie’s friend Stacey, Jessie Ennis gets the most time to shine out of the supporting bunch. Mae Whitman is a bit overqualified as Randy’s bandmate, but makes the most out of her limited screen time.

The big casting disappointment is Logan Paul, tasked with the role of antagonist as Julie’s jock boyfriend Mickey. Paul’s detestable public makes him perfect for the role of loathsome blowhard, but he’s simply not a very good actor. For the most part, Paul fails to make an impression, a missed opportunity for a bit of self-deprecation.

Valley Girl treats the 80s like an Instagram filter, a film without a single drop of originality. An unapologetically fun guilty pleasure that’s pretty perfect for light summer fare. People who actually grew up in the 80s will likely hate the tropes the film traffics in, but it’s pretty clear that this remake is designed more for millennials, the kind of people who knew who Logan Paul was before he started getting in trouble on the news. The presence of Silverstone, a 90s teen icon, probably doesn’t help much either, though she’s very fun in a bit role.

The 80s aesthetic also provides an unintended benefit. Set in an idyllic period before cell phones, Valley Girl doesn’t need to work social media into its narrative. Few films understand that less is more with regard to portraying technology on screen. Valley Girl feels distinctly modern in its delivery, a trait bound to anger nostalgic viewers but one that ends up working pretty well for a young audience. For a film using bright spandex and catchy covers to masquerade as a period piece, Valley Girl is actually a lot of fun.

Thursday

7

May 2020

0

COMMENTS

Classic Film: Orlando

Written by Ian Thomas Malone, Posted in Blog, Movie Reviews, Pop Culture

Virginia Woolf’s Orlando carries plenty of natural appeal for transgender people. What’s not to love about a gender-bending aristocrat who travels through time to confront history’s perplexing relationship toward women? Two years before Forrest Gump won plenty of awards using a similar premise, Sally Porter’s Orlando beautifully adapted Woolf’s material for screen.

As the titular Orlando, Tilda Swinton crafts a remarkable performance that tosses the notion of gender right out the window. Pure elegance, she moves about the screen confident in their sense of being, even if Orlando frequently finds themselves a fish out of water. Orlando is a sexual being who defies all notions of sexuality.

Swinton understands that the key to understanding Orlando as a character requires one to strip down every single conceived notion about gender. That kind of process is inherently contradictory, for none of us can discard our frames of reference. The act of trying is the point.

Porter brings Woolf’s imagery alive through the film’s elaborate costumes. The sight of Orlando exquisitely dressed in lace and frills with a palette of foundation, regardless of gender, provides a layer of subtext that the written word simply cannot provide. The aristocracy is a performance, a spectacle to be seen and delighted in.

There’s a line late in the film’s second act where a nude Orlando boldly professes, “Same person. No difference at all. Just a different sex.” The eyes and the mind operate on two separate planes, seemingly in conflict with each other. The point is not to be equal, but to look at an individual beyond the stereotypes to see how women have been denied that basic sense of decency over the course of time.

Orlando is a story about agency. Women in England’s society lacked much to call their own, with little in the eye’s of the law to distinguish the entire sex from that of the deceased. Women were seen as little more as objects, muses to titillate the senses as long as they don’t step out of line. Shelmerdine (Billy Zane) is just about the one man in the film who understands this contradiction, though as a product of the status quo he struggles to introduce a satisfactory resolution that the Lady Orlando faces as a result of her change in sex.

Few films understand the value of gender as a spectacle better than Orlando. The elegant tapestry with which Porter paints is delightful to return to with each viewing. Many of the problems that Woolf first introduced almost a hundred years ago still remain, but the very act of engaging with these complex questions presents some optimism for a world where a person like Orlando could be embraced regardless of their gender.

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