Movie Review: The Trip to Greece

The Trip to Greece **** / *****

Directed by: Michael Winterbottom.

Starring: Steve Coogan (Steve Coogan), Rob Brydon (Rob Brydon), Kareem Alkabbani (Kareem), Marta Barrio (Yolanda), Cordelia Bugeja (Steve's Ex Wife), Richard Clews (Steve's Dad), Justin Edwards (UK Agent), Rebecca Johnson (Sally), Claire Keelan (Emma), Timothy Leach (Joe), Harry Tayler (Young Dad), Michael Towns (Alexander), Tessa Walker (Chloe).

 

For the fourth, and apparently final, time in the last 10 years, Steve Coogan and Rob Brydon hit the road together, travelling through a different country apparently to eat at fancy restaurants so they can write a magazine piece for The Guardian. No, that doesn’t make much sense, but no, it doesn’t matter at all. The reason to see these movies – and keep seeing them – is to watch these two gifted comedic actors, playing versions of themselves as they try to one-up each other, get through their mid-life crisis (or not) and show off their insecurities. Each movie in the series is good – but it’s one of those series where the sum is greater than the individual parts. It’s always nice to revisit these two – always fun, always funny, but increasingly, the films have become more serious as well, more willing to explore more than just the insecurities of middle-aged, rich, white male entertainers. The last film, The Trip to Spain, left Coogan on a dark road in Africa, being confronted by extremists – all because he wanted to have a “real” adventure, not just the safe ones he had been going on with Brydon for years now. In The Trip to Greece, mortality is a focus – Coogan’s dad is sick during the trip, and he receives updates on his health, while hiding it from Brydon – and everyone else. Brydon, who has always been slightly more secure and together, at least compared to Coogan, starts to feel a little more of the creep of middle age as well. He started his family later than Coogan – whose kids are grown, while Brydon’s are still young. His wife is younger him as well. And he doesn’t want to lose her.

 

All of this is sprinkled throughout the last chapter of this series – The Trip to Greece – as well as some other moments that puncture the bubble of these two men playing with, and off each other. They like to needle each other, although Coogan, the more famous of the two men, is also more thin skinned. He bristles at the idea of being classified as a “comedian” – even when Brydon points out his BAFTA nomination was for playing a comedian (which leads to the pair doing a funny bit – Laurel and Tom Hardy, which I think I could have watch forever). Brydon has always just felt more comfortable in his skin – more comfortable with his position in life, his career, etc. Coogan is always striving for something else – something just out of reach.

 

The pair, of course, need each other. They need to have that audience, the validation that they give to each other. It’s why they keep coming back together again. There is a certain comfort level between the two of them that has grown through these movies. To be honest, I could go on watching more installments of The Trip every three years for the rest of Coogan and Brydon’s lives. Each new chapter continues to be funny, even if the pair do repeat some bits (perhaps, especially because they do) – and because each new chapter finds them in a slightly different phase of life, running away from slightly different problems, confronting something new. Taken separately, each of these movies is good. As a whole, this series is something altogether more special – perhaps the crowning achievement of the careers of Coogan, Brydon and director Michael Winterbottom. Before Winterbottom made these films, he made one of the worst of his career – The Road to Guantanamo, about some friends who unwittingly found themselves in the American prison for terrorists, through a series of what could be called a comedy of errors. It was about people who didn’t really know what they were getting themselves into – who were blinkered from the outside world. It also didn’t really work – it was a fiction/documentary hybrid, and Winterbottom never found the right tone. Oddly, with The Trip movies, he seems to have accomplished something similar. He has always shown the difference between Coogan and Brydon, and the restaurant workers preparing their meals. Over the course of the series, he’s gradually allowed more and more of the outside world to intrude on the proceedings – here there is even an acknowledgement of the European refugee crisis, done in a comic way.

 

As an individual chapter in this series, The Trip to Greece is better than the other three chapters. But as a capping off of this decade long project, it makes you appreciate just what the trio here has accomplished. If this is indeed the last chapter, then I’ll miss the series. If they decide to do more, I for one, couldn’t be happier.

Movie Review: The Painter and the Thief

The Painter and the Thief *** ½ / *****

Directed by: Benjamin Ree

 

What an odd, beguiling documentary The Painter and the Thief turns out to be. I don’t necessarily think it’s entirely successful – and the structure of the film serves to make the film more contrived than it needed to be – but it’s ultimately a documentary about the subject that most documentaries avoid – the power imbalance between the artist and their subject. And the film adds in another layer to this as well – as it is about a painter and a thief, and their power imbalance, but then complicates that imbalance as it moves along – eventually even questioning the relationship to the movie itself, with both of its subjects. It’s the type of thing that will be studied by documentary students for years, even if the film doesn’t quite live up to its lofty ambitions.

 

The film begins with a robbery – two junkies break into a Norwegian art gallery, and steal two paintings by Barbora Kysilkova, a Czech painter, living with her Norwegian boyfriend. That she is talented is clear – but she hasn’t exactly become a star of the art world – and even if her paintings were valued only at 20,000 Euros total, you wonder if she could sell them even for that. Still, the paintings are good – and immensely personal for Kysilkova. The thieves are quickly apprehended, but the paintings are gone – one of the thieves won’t say anything about the whereabouts of the painting her ended up with, the other says he doesn’t know. It’s the latter of these two that is the thief of the title – Karil-Bertil Nordland. Kysilkova boldly approaches him at his trial, not angry, but inquiring if she could paint him. The first act of the film culminates with Kysilkova showing Nordland her portrait of him – and him breaking down in tears. It’s the type of reaction that you know Benjamin Ree wanted – to have Nordland feel seen for the first time, and get that reaction on camera. Had the film ended there, it may have been a fascinating little short.

 

But Ree continues, and continues to complicate matters. If the first act is locked into Kysilkova’s perspective, the second makes the choice to lock in on Nordland’s. Like it said in the extraordinary Portrait of a Lady on Fire, yes, the artist sees their subject – their model. But while they are posing for you, they are also observing you. Nordland may well feel seen by Kysilkova – but he also sees her. The movie becomes about their complicated, co-dependent relationship that develops between the pair of them. The different roles the play, the personas they adopt, etc. The movie doesn’t want to fall into the trap that one can argue the painting does – which is to reduce people to easily digestible stereotypes, to make it easier for the audience.

 

It is a lofty goal, and an admirable one, and had Ree been able to really pull it off, then The Painter and the Thief may well have been a masterwork. But I have a feeling Ree knows he didn’t quite pull it off, which is why he fiddles unnecessarily with the structure of the film – he’ll often show us an event, than circle back to show us what lead to it – and then continue the thread from there. So for Nordland, there is a horrific car accident, that leaves him in need of physical therapy – and a stint in Norwegian jail (which looks like a nice summer camp). For Kysilkova, the film delves into some issues she has with her boyfriend – who isn’t sure he likes this relationship for her, and her own economic circumstances (a lot of time is spent on rent – which ultimately ends up going nowhere).

 

The film is able to bring it altogether for one last, devastating shot -the type of shot that you will remember long after you’ve forgotten the details of the movie. Ree has a gift there – his film really does feel like it could be a work of fiction – a style that recalls perhaps the Dardenne brothers. The film looks great. And the high moments of the film are exceptional. I just cannot shake the feeling that perhaps Ree is playing with things a little too much – playing with the audience too much – to make a completely satisfying movie. There is so much here to admire – I just wish the entire package came together better.

Movie Review: The Lodge

The Lodge **** / *****

Directed by: Severin Fiala & Veronika Franz.

Written by: Sergio Casci and Veronika Franz & Severin Fiala.

Starring: Riley Keough (Grace), Jaeden Martell (Aidan), Lia McHugh (Mia Hall), Richard Armitage (Richard), Alicia Silverstone (Laura), Danny Keough (Aaron Marshall), Lola Reid (Young Grace), Philippe Ménard (Boy), Jarred Atkin (Priest at Funeral).

 

If you can get through some fairly jarring plot twists and leaps in logic, The Lodge is about as good as horror movies these days get. Directors Severin Fiala and Veronika Franz, whose last film Goodnight Mommy, became a cult hit, allowing them this opportunity to make their English language debut, know what they’re doing in constructing a slow-burn horror movie. Both movies are about children, and the lengths they go to torment a parent – or potential stepparent, as in The Lodge. And both movie are slow burn horror films, gradually building the tension up and up and up, until it needs to be released. Goodnight Mommy became more violent as it went along – but I think The Lodge does it one better, by becoming more disturbing.

 

In the film, Grace (Riley Keough) is the new girlfriend of Richard (Richard Armitage) – who was in the process of divorcing Laura (Alicia Silverstone) when she committed suicide, shortly after he tells her he wants to get remarried. Their two kids, Aidan (Jarden Martell) and Mia (Lia McHugh) aren’t thrilled to be getting a new stepmother so soon, are fiercely protective of their mother even in death, and want to show Grace who she’s dealing with. They know a little about her past – her father was a cult leader, the rest of the cult killed themselves when Grace was just a child, but they don’t really know how deep her trauma is – or the extent of her mental illness.

 

The Lodge of the title is the family lodge – way up north somewhere which Richard, making one of the dumbest parental decisions in cinema history, decides would be a good place to spend Christmas – allowing the kids to get to know Grace. And what better way to accelerate the process than to leave the two kids and Grace alone together, so he can go back to work. A storm hits, the road become impassable, and communication with the outside world is pretty much cut off. None of this seems to worry Richard very much – who waits day after day before attempting to get up there, or ahold of anyone. Really, Richard is responsible for everything that happens.

 

So yeah, you do have to cut the film some slack. Clearly, what the filmmakers wanted is to get the kids and Grace together, and not give them room for escape – and even if they contrive an unbelievable way to do that, once they are trapped, the movie is really effective. Much of the reason belongs to Keough – who has quickly become one of the more interesting actresses working. Here, she is given a juicy role as a woman who means well – she wants to bond with Richard’s children – but for whom isolation, her past, and her mental illness makes her descend deeper and deeper, closer to madness.

 

The film has a clip of the trio watching The Thing (1982) – and will likely remind viewers of Kubrick’s The Shining as well, perhaps crossed with Hereditary. It isn’t a particularly original concept – people trapped in a snowbound, isolated house go insane – but it’s one handled well here. The film is a slow creep of the insanity – with three very effective performances.

 

So, yes, the movie is more contrived than I would have liked – but that contrivance is necessary to put these three characters – a would-be stepmother, and the two children who don’t want her, isolated together. From there, the filmmakers make a wonderful, creepy, disturbing – and at times scary movie – that ends perhaps the only way it could.

Movie Review: Young Ahmed

Young Ahmed *** ½ / *****

Directed by: Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne.

Written by: Jean-Pierre Dardenne and Luc Dardenne.

Starring: Idir Ben Addi (Ahmed), Myriem Akheddiou (Inès), Victoria Bluck (Louise), Claire Bodson (La mère), Othmane Moumen (Imam Youssouf), Amine Hamidou (Rachid), Yassine Tarsimi (Abdel), Cyra Lassman (Yasmine), Frank Onana (Fouad), Laurent Caron (Mathieu), Annette Closset (Sandrine), Olivier Bonnaud (Caseworker).

 

The Dardenne brothers latest film, Young Ahmed, is nowhere near as good as their previous films – but it’s not really for the reason that made it so controversial at Cannes, and since its release. Those criticisms – that two, old white Frenchmen shouldn’t be making a movie focused on a young Muslim who becomes radicalized, is not without merit – because what would they really know about this person? But the more fundamental problem is that the Dardenne’s style doesn’t really lend itself to a portrait of this type of person. The Dardenne’s cinema has always been in the neo-realist vein, and it continues so here, but there style The Dardenne’s movies are usually about morally conflicted characters – and their style is to follow their protagonists, with their camera trained on them – often their face, sometimes the back of their head, as if they are trying to bore into their skull, and see what is there – see the thought process, the conflict inside. And with Young Ahmed, there just isn’t that much conflict. Ahmed is a young Muslim man, in his teens, who following the death of his father has come under the sway of a charismatic young Imam, who preaches Jihad. Ahmed’s plan is to target another Muslim – his teacher, Ines (Myriem Akheddiou), because at her homework Academy, she teaches modern Arabic, and not Quran Arabic. Ahmed isn’t please with his mother either – she drinks, she doesn’t wear the hijab, etc., and older sister, who he tells dresses like a slut, when really, she dresses like a normal teenager. There isn’t an abundance of growth in him either – his plan is foiled, he is sent to a program for troubled teens, but as soon as he is able, he is back on the Jihad path again. He has a one-track mind, so it isn’t particularly interesting to try and stare into it.

 

Now, of course, because the Dardenne’s are master filmmakers, Young Ahmed isn’t a horrible movie – but like their last film, The Unknown Girl, it just isn’t up to the standards they themselves have set with movies like Rosetta, The Son, L’Enfant, The Kid with a Bike or Two Days One Night. Here, they seem more resigned than anything else. They don’t really have answers as to how a kid like Ahmed becomes radicalized – he starts the movie when the process is already pretty much complete – nor how a liberal, Western democracy can reach him once that has happened. The system treats him with respect – he is sent to a nice place, where he is allowed to prey and practice his religion, where he is given a certain amount of freedom, and where rehabilitation, not punishment, is the goal. But even coming into contact with nice people his own age – like Louise (Victoria Bluck), who likes him almost immediately, doesn’t seem to be able to penetrate him. Louise flirts with him, and kisses him in a field one day – which really causes the only confusion in Ahmed we see the entire movie. He is conflicted – he likes Louise, he likes kissing her, etc. But his solution to the guilt and shame he feels for doing what he has done with her, is to try and convince her to convert to Islam – then his sin wouldn’t be as great. She, understandably, doesn’t agree.

 

The controversy around the movie is, I think, mostly unearned. The Dardenne’s are very clear about separating the faith of Islam, from those who take their faith, and turn it into violence. They allow a full spectrum of views, and Muslims, into the fray here – and that does require a certain view of extremism. The film does understand the type of young man who can become radicalized – those who are already hurt and angry, and looking for something to take all that hurt and anger out on. Unfortunately, I don’t think it ever really delves any deeper into Ahmed than that. The Dardenne’s are arguably the most empathetic of all modern filmmakers – but empathy requires understanding, and I don’t think they ever truly crack Ahmed. The end of the film also feels like a cheat.

 

The Dardenne’s remain among the best filmmakers in the world – you can see that even in their lesser films, and Young Ahmed may just be the weakest film the brothers have ever made. You can admire their intentions – and yes, their ambition here – and the film basically works on a scene by scene level – it just never quite adds up to anything more than that. Perhaps the basic criticism of the movie is right – that because the Dardenne’s could not, or at least do not, fully understand Ahmed, they shouldn’t have made a film about him.

Movie Review: The Lovebirds

The Lovebirds ** / *****

Directed by: Michael Showalter.

Written by: Aaron Abrams and Brendan Gall and Martin Gero.

Starring: Kumail Nanjiani (Jibran), Issa Rae (Leilani), Anna Camp (Edie), Paul Sparks (Moustache), Kyle Bornheimer (Brett), Kelly Murtagh (Evonne), Moses Storm (Steve), Barry Rothbart (Mr. Hipster), Aaron Abrams (Paramedic).

 

Kumail Nanjiani and Issa Rae both deserve better than The Lovebirds – a rather lifeless comedy that the pair nevertheless do their best to breathe life into. They play Jibran and Leilani – who we first meet in the aftermath of a would-be one-night stand, that turns into a real date, which turns into a relationship. Flash forward four years, and the pair are living together, but don’t seem to like each other much. He thinks she, and her obsession with reality shows and social media, is shallow, she thinks he, a documentary filmmaker who spends all his time editing a documentary he may never finish, is satisfied with being a failure. They break up, but still have to go on a ride together in their car. It’s then that they hit a biker with their car. The biker immediately gets up, says its okay, and takes off. But then a cop jumps into their car, takes over driving, chases down the biker and runs him over – repeatedly, showing, of course, that he wasn’t a cop after all. Jibran and Leilani aren’t dumb enough – or white enough – to turn themselves into the cops, so they take the dead man’s cell phone, and try to crack the mystery of his death,

 

The film is supposed to be a comedy or remarriage – popular in the 1940s, where divorced or on their way to being divorced, couples find themselves drawn back together by circumstances beyond their control. Here, it doesn’t really work for a few reasons – the most fatal of which is that while Nanjiani and Rae are great comedic presences, and both are trying really hard here, they never quite feel like a couple either pulled apart, or put back together. Perhaps they could have been that, had they not been forced into such an inane plot, full of would-be set pieces that don’t really work – like Anna Camp, doing a Southern accent, and threatening the pair with bacon grease, or a comedic climax right out of Eyes Wide Shut. If there was a way to make this work, screenwriters Aaron Abrams, Brandan Gall and Martin Gero and director Michael Showalter, don’t find it.

 

There are isolated moments, mostly in Nanjiani and Rae’s performances, that do work. Nanjiani is perfectly playing the exasperated everyman, and his asides, or sometimes just tired sighs, are downright hilarious. Rae is able to deliver the perfect cutting insult (the best of which “Did you think it was one of those male only doors”) that can elevate rather lame, would-be one liners.

 

But none of it ever really comes together in a meaningful way. The Big Sick proved that Nanjiani is a movie star – and showed just how solid a director Michael Showalter can be. But here, they are stuck going through the motions – going through one tired set piece after another, and the film never lets the characters breathe. It also never really embraces its dark comic potential after the opening sequence with the biker. This is a Netflix film that was supposed to be a big screen release – sold by its studio after the Covid-19 breakout. It fits perfectly well on Netflix, beside all the other tired programmers – wasting talent and time.

Movie Review: Emma.

Emma. *** ½ / *****

Directed by: Autumn de Wilde.

Written by: Eleanor Catton based on the novel by Jane Austen.

Starring: Anya Taylor-Joy (Emma Woodhouse), Johnny Flynn (Mr. Knightley), Mia Goth (Harriet Smith), Miranda Hart (Miss Bates), Bill Nighy (Mr. Woodhouse), Josh O'Connor (Mr. Elton), Callum Turner (Frank Churchhill), Amber Anderson (Jane Fairfax), Rupert Graves (Mr. Weston), Gemma Whelan (Miss Taylor / Mrs. Weston), Tanya Reynolds (Mrs. Augusta Elton), Connor Swindells (Robert Martin), Chloe Pirrie (Isabella Knightley), Oliver Chris (John Knightley).

 

The best thing about Autumn de Wilde’s Emma is how fully the film embraces the inherent silliness of the narrative. Jane Austen, of course, wrote many great novels – and Emma, her last, could easily be dismissed as her most frivolous – and yet there is so much joy in the telling of what is essentially the self-absorption of the main character that you cannot help but enjoy it all – even going so far as to like Emma, who is vain and vapid, and uses people as her own personal playthings. You should hate her – but instead, you are utterly charmed. De Wilde’s film nails this.

 

Anya Taylor-Joy stars as the title character – a rich woman in the Victorian age, living with her hypochondriac widowed father (a delightful Bill Nighy). Emma Woodhouse is popular in her little social circle of course – people just adore her, and she fancies herself a matchmaker – recently getting setting up the marriage of her au pair, Miss Taylor (Gemma Whelan) to marry the widower, Mr. Weston (Rupert Graves) – something no one thought possible. Her latest mission is to find an appropriate match for Harriet Smith (Mia Goth) – a young woman of unknown parentage, at the school for girls in the area, that she has taken under her wing. Harriet is already in love with farmer Robert Martin (Connor Swindells) – but Emma considers that beneath her – he isn’t poor enough to help out of pity, but not rich enough to take seriously. No, a far better match would be Mr. Elton (Josh O’Connor), the local vicar. As for her own prospects, she insists she will not marry – she couldn’t leave father – but seems interested in Frank Churchill (Callum Turner), Weston’s son, who has recently become the heir to his rich uncle – and taken his name. Then there is Jane Fairfax (Amber Anderson), her old rival, and niece to the very annoying Miss Bates (Miranda Hart). Oh, and don’t forget Mr. Knightley (Johnny Flynn), from down the road. He and Emma needle each other with insults – so you know they are really in love.

 

All of this is so inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but the film knows this, embraces it, and turns it all into a delightful farce. Autumn de Wilde would have likely been right at home making screwball comedies in the 1930s Hollywood system. Anya Taylor-Joy is a complete delight as Emma as well – best known for more serious work in films like The Witch, Split or Thoroughbreds, here she completely embraces her comedic side and delivers a wonderful comedic performances. Add in the most elaborate, colorful, and beautiful, yet silly, costumes in a period piece I’ve seen in a while, and you have a delightful package.

 

I do wish perhaps the film was a little shorter – sustaining this comic momentum for over two-hours is hard, and the film strains more than a little under the weight – especially once you realize who is going to end up with whom (which is the only question really to answer here) – but also realize you still have 45-minutes left in the film. Still, that’s a minor quibble in a film that I basically had a blast watching – and that gets Jane Austen’s novel just right.

Movie Review: Capone

Capone ** ½ / *****

Directed by: Josh Trank.

Written by Josh Trank.

Starring: Tom Hardy (Fonse - Al Capone), Linda Cardellini (Mae), Matt Dillon (Johnny), Al Sapienza (Ralphie), Kathrine Narducci (Rosie), Noel Fisher (Junior), Gino Cafarelli (Gino), Mason Guccione (Tony),  Jack Lowden (Crawford), Kyle MacLachlan (Doctor Karlock), Rose Bianco (Nanna), Manny Fajardo (Zambini), Christopher Bianculli (Young Tony), Edgar Arreola (Rodrigo), Jhemma Ziegler (Betty). 

 

I have to give Josh Trank and Tom Hardy some credit here – they undoubtedly made the precise movie they wanted to make in Capone. And, again, credit where due, it is completely unlike any other movie about Al Capone, and really about any mob figure, either real or fictional. They have succeeded in making a film that completely and totally drains any romanticism out of being in the mob, but do so by basically not showing Capone’s mob years at all. No, this film is entirely about the last year of Capone’s life – released from prison, suffering from syphilis induced mental problems, unable to control his bowel movements, and living out his life in relative luxury in a Florida mansion – although one that he, and his family, know they really cannot afford. He has nothing left, his legacy is destroyed, and he is a hollow, empty man just waiting to die.

 

So, bravo, I guess for Trank – coming back after his disastrous stint behind the camera for the would-be blockbuster Fantastic Four (2015). He got Fantastic Four because he did a remarkable job directing something that felt like a blockbuster on the cheap – Chronicle – and Fantastic Four was supposed to be his inroads into making more and more blockbusters – a Star Wars, Jurassic Park, etc. And it all ended. He was taken off of Fantastic Four, had no final cut, and the stories that came out about his shoot doomed his future prospects. He became the blockbuster director that never was. In the long run perhaps this will be good for Trank’s career – if not his bank account – because if Capone shows anything, it’s a director completely committed to his vision, which isn’t something blockbusters usually encourage or allow.

 

But what exactly is that vision? You kind of get everything you need to get from Capone from the opening sequence – where Hardy’s Capone stalks around his mansion, seemingly paranoid that someone is there, until you realize he’s just playing hide and seek with the kids. He is a lion in winter, a once powerful man, reduced to this. From there, we get a lot of scenes of people telling him his legacy is over, a lot of questioning about a supposed $10 million he hid before prison, which even he doesn’t know where it is. He is questioned by the Feds – but lets his lawyer do all the talking, his statement clear enough when he shits his pants in front of them. There is one last impotent flurry of violence near the end of the film, but that’s all it is.

 

In Hardy, Trank found the right collaborator. Hardy, like Trank, is nothing if not fully committed – and this certainly continues his streak of performances where he tries to be as unintelligible as possible in his ever line reading. There is more than a little of Brando in Hardy’s performance – both for good and for ill, mixing Brando’s early period commitment, with his later period of not giving a shit – and I know that doesn’t sound like its possible, but somehow it is. Hardy is, of course, a brilliant actor – but like Nicolas Cage, he doesn’t always seem to know when or how to modulate. His performance here is precisely what he wants it to be – whatever that is.

 

What Capone ultimately shows is why you usually do not make biopics about people in this stage of life. The film doesn’t care about anything that made Capone famous, just wants to show you the pathetic shell he was at the end. In that, it undeniably succeeds. Now whether you want to see it or not, is another story.

Movie Review: Driveways

Driveways **** / *****

Directed by: Andrew Ahn   

Written by: Hannah Bos and Paul Thureen.

Starring: Hong Chau (Kathy), Lucas Jaye (Cody), Brian Dennehy (Del), Christine Ebersole (Linda), Jeter Rivera (Miguel), Sophia DiStefano (Anna). 

 

If character actors are lucky, they get to have a role near the end of their career like Brian Dennehy got in Driveways – released just a short while after the towering actor died. He was always a solid, reliable presence in films and TV shows, and of course a giant on Broadway. But he was the kind of reliable that doesn’t always get noticed or remarked upon. Driveways isn’t quite like Harry Dean Stanton’s swan song in Lucky – but it’s close enough – a performance that reminds you why Dennehy became one of the go-to character actors in the first place.

 

But Dennehy’s role in Driveways is a supporting one. The main characters are Kathy (a wonderful Hong Chau) and her song Cody (Lucas Jaye), who is around 10. They arrive in the quiet, New York town to clean out the house of Kathy’s recently deceased sister – not knowing before they show up that she was a hoarder, which is why she kept her distance from the rest of her family for so long. Basically the plot of the movie is that while Kathy cleans the house, and deals with her complicated feelings towards her sister, Cody bonds with Del (Dennehy), the Korean War Vet who lives next door.

 

A lesser movie would, perhaps, make Del a racist – unsure of this pair of Asian Americans who come next door, and change things – but that’s not this movie. There is Linda (Christine Ebersole) on the other side of Kathy’s sister home, who is casually racist (asking where Kathy is from, and smiling disbelievingly when she responds “Michigan”) – but Del is an easy-going guy. Had they not come up to him, then he probably just would have kept sitting there on his porch. But as is the case with many movies like Driveways, the child, and the old man bond.

 

By now, you probably have an idea in your head as to what Driveways is – and you’re probably half right. Yet, Driveways is a more sensitive, nuanced, and naturalistic film about these three people. It also contains three extraordinary performances. Hong Chau, who was quite good in Alexander Payne’s Downsizing and HBO’s Watchmen, delivers a laid-back performance here. She has spent so long being angry at her sister, for perceived slights, and now when she sees how she lived, it snaps into focus as to why they were estranged, and what she is left with is sadness more than anything. She and Cody are close – and he’s a responsible kid – he doesn’t cause much trouble for her. Jaye is excellent as Cody – it’s one of the best child performances I can recall. He is shy and quiet – he seems to weigh his words before he speaks them, often looking down or away – as if he’s embarrassed to be bothering you with what he has to say. And then there is Dennehy.

 

Dennehy is excellent throughout Driveways. We know he was married, and is now a widow, but he doesn’t like to talk about it much. He has a daughter – who is a lesbian, and he how he handled that when she came out. She now lives far away – but they remain at least somewhat close. He is independent for his age – his friends are slipping more into senility than he is. He is quiet, and seems content. And then comes his final monologue to Cody – a look back at his life right after Korea, when he embarked on a hitchhiking trip, that ended in California, and meeting his wife. Dennehy keeps talking, and basically in about 5 minutes, gives Cody his life story. Cody, perhaps, doesn’t fully comprehend what he is being told – although he knows it’s something important. And by the end, you get the feeling that this is the first, and perhaps last time, Del will verbalize all of this. It is an extraordinary scene.

 

The film was directed by Andrew Ahn, and written by Hannah Bos and Paul Thureen. They take a standard issue premise, and imbue with something special. The film is short – just over 80 minutes – but that is the precise right length to tell this story. And with the help of three great performances, they make Driveways something special.

Movie Review: How to Build a Girl

How to Build a Girl ** / *****

Directed by: Coky Giedroyc.

Written by: Caitlin Moran based on her novel.

Starring: Beanie Feldstein (Johanna Morrigan), Cleo (Bianca Morrigan), Dónal Finn (Karl Boden), Paddy Considine (Pat Morrigan), Laurie Kynaston (Krissi Morrigan), Stellan Powell (Lupin Morrigan), Sarah Solemani (Angie Morrigan), Andi Oliver (Donna Summer), Michael Sheen (Dr. Freud), Sue Perkins (Emily Bronte), Mel Giedroyc (Charlotte Bronte), Alexei Sayle (Karl Marx), Lily Allen (Elizabeth Taylor), Gemma Arterton (Maria von Trapp), Jameela Jamil (Cleopatra), Lucy Punch (Sylvia Plath), Sharon Horgan (Jo March), Chris O'Dowd (Alan 'Wilko' Wilkinson), Joanna Scanlan (Mrs. Belling), Ralph Prosser (Lee Veltman), Arinzé Kene (Kenny), Ziggy Heath (Derby), Tadhg Murphy (Andy Rock), Bobby Schofield (Pricey), Patsy Ferran (Snow Pixie), Frank Dillane (Tony Rich), Asheq Akhtar (Mr. Sanghera), Hammed Animashaun (Ed Edwards), Alfie Allen (John Kite), Emma Thompson (Amanda Watson). 

 

Beanie Feldstein has the type of movie star charisma that cannot be learned or taught – you simply have it, or you don’t. That was obvious in Lady Bird and Booksmart, and confirmed by How to Build a Girl, the first movie that Feldstein has to carry all by herself. There isn’t anything wrong with her performance – okay, the British accent isn’t the best in the world, but she captures the character so well I hardly matters. But everything surrounding Feldstein just isn’t as interesting, including a story that forces her through one tired revelation after another. I think the movie does manage to capture that insecure feeling of being a teenage girl – in a world that will beat you up. But it doesn’t manage to capture that world.

 

Feldstein stars as Johanna, a 16-year-old British schoolgirl, the most talented writer in her class, who wants nothing more than to grow up and be a writer. She lives in the suburbs – far enough away from London that it seems like another planet. She applies to be a music critic – despite the obvious flaw of knowing nothing about music – and soon finds herself a star. This is the early 1990s London, her co-workers are all cynical men in their 20s, and her infectious spirit doesn’t quite jive with theirs. They will war her down. Soon, Johanna has reinvented herself as Dolly – a wild child, with bright red hair and a steampunk wardrobe. She falls for a singer – played by Alfie Allen – but her piece is too wide-eyed, teenage girl mooning for the paper. They want her to be more of an asshole. She will oblige.

 

It’s odd that How to Build a Girl is a movie at least in part about music, but like Johanna, doesn’t seem to understand music at all. Johanna really could be writing about anything at all – it doesn’t really matter, because the movie doesn’t care about it. Add in more clichés – her father (Paddy Considine), an aspiring musician who somehow hasn’t realized his chance is decades in the rearview, and the tired old refrain about critics adding nothing to society, etc. There are more clichés littered throughout the movie as well.

 

What keeps the whole thing watchable is Feldstein herself – who is delightful. She has a wall of pictures of her own personal heroes who talk to her (played by a veritable who’s who of British talent). She is a wide-eyed optimist, and while she takes a detour into being a cynic, it never sits on her properly, and she will need to discard it in order to grow.

 

There is, of course, a message to How to Build a Girl – and it is about being true to yourself, and figuring out who you are. Perhaps you change who you are, but you it for yourself, not anyone else. It’s an old message, but a worthwhile one, and I think that perhaps there is a market of teenage girls who need to here it. I just wish it were in a better movie.

Movie Review: The Traitor

The Traitor *** / *****

Directed by: Marco Bellocchio.

Written by: Marco Bellocchio & Valia Santella & Ludovica Rampoldi & Francesco Piccolo and Francesco La Licata.

Starring: Pierfrancesco Favino (Tommaso Buscetta), Luigi Lo Cascio (Totuccio Contorno), Fausto Russo Alesi (Giovanni Falcone), Maria Fernanda Cândido (Maria Cristina de Almeida Guimarães), Fabrizio Ferracane (Pippo Calò), Nicola Calì (Totò Riina), Giovanni Calcagno (Tano Badalamenti), Bruno Cariello (Alfonso Giordano), Bebo Storti (Franco Coppi), Vincenzo Pirrotta (Luciano Liggio), Goffredo Maria Bruno (Stefano Bontate),Gabriele Cicirello (Benedetto Buscetta), Paride Cicirello (Antonio Buscetta), Elia Schilton (Giornalista TV), Alessio Praticò (Scarpuzzedda), Pier Giorgio Bellocchio (Cesare), Rosario Palazzolo (Giovanni De Gennaro), Antonio Orlando (Michele), Ada Nisticò (Alessandra Buscetta), Federica Butera (Silvana Buscetta), Giovanni Crozza Signoris (Tommaso Buscetta giovane), Alberto Gottuso (Giuseppe Inzerillo), Tatu La Vecchia (Fra Giacinto), Sergio Pierattini (Giudice Alfonso Giordano), Raffaella Lebboroni (Giudice donna), Giuseppe Di Marca (Giulio Andreotti). 

 

The Traitor is basically the final 15 minutes of GoodFellas stretched out to two-and-a-half hours. Marco Bellocchio’s film focuses on Tommaso Buscetta (Pierfrancesco Favino), the Cosa Nostra’s most legendary rat. He tried to leave that life behind for a peaceful one in Rio, but when the Mafia war in Italy breaks out, killing hundreds, including many members of his own family, he ends up instead spending essentially the last 20 years of his life – from 1980-2000 – in Witness Protection in America, unless he was flown back to Italy to testify against his former co-workers, always incased in bullet proof glass in the courtroom. These men, of course, see him as the lowest of the low – they all may be murderers, drug smugglers and all-around horrible men – but at least they aren’t rats.

 

Bellocchio is, of course, a legendary Italian filmmaker – his remarkable debut film, Fists in the Pocket, came out 55 years ago, and he’s been working steadily ever since. This film is surprisingly linear for Bellocchio – and more disappointingly, really lacks any real perspective on Buscetta himself. Bellocchio is basically content to follow along his path to being a rat – and the film stacks one courtroom scene on top of another. The courtroom scenes are always interesting and entertaining – partly because Favino is such a great actor and able to hold attention on himself, and partly just because they are naturally dramatic anyway. At a certain point though, they are very much the same thing after another – and all the names and faces of the people he is ratting on start to bleed together.

 

There is one fantastic sequence in the film – and it stands out because he’s so unlike everything else in the film. That is when the mafia takes a hit out on the lead prosecutor that Buscetta has been working with for more than a decade – by planting a bomb under his car, which explodes while he is driving. The whole thing is shot from inside the car as it explodes, and tumbles over. It is a remarkable sequence. Also wonderful is a detail embedded in the first part of the movie, and the returned to at the end. Buscetta tells the story of the first man he was ever assigned to kill. He waits for him outside his son’s baptism, and when he locks eyes with Buscetta, and knows what is coming, grabs his baby boy for protection – and from then on, wouldn’t go anywhere without him – essentially using his child as a human shield – knowing even the Mafia has its limits.

 

Its that kind of detail that is missing from the rest of the movie, that could have elevated the whole thing. This is a mob movie that pointedly doesn’t want to even show the entertaining side. Scorsese’s GoodFellas entertains you for more than two-hours before lowering the boom on you, and it becomes crystal clear, if it hadn’t already, what kind of people you have been watching. There isn’t a touch of that romanticism here. That is admirable in one sense – but sure doesn’t help The Traitor’s entertainment value.

Movie Review: Greed

Greed ** ½ / *****

Directed by: Michael Winterbottom.

Written by: Michael Winterbottom and Sean Gray.

Starring: Steve Coogan (Sir Richard McCreadie), Isla Fisher (Samantha), Shirley Henderson (Margaret), David Mitchell (Nick), Asa Butterfield (Finn), Dinita Gohil (Amanda), Sophie Cookson (Lily), Jamie Blackley (Young Richard McCreadie), Shanina Shaik (Naomi), Jonny Sweet (Jules), Sarah Solemani (Melanie), Tim Key (Sam), Asim Chaudhry (Frank the Lion Tamer), Ollie Locke (Fabian), Pearl Mackie (Cathy), Kareem Alkabbani (Kareem). 

 

Perhaps the superrich have simply become impossible to satirize. In real life, many of these billionaires – like Elon Musk – already seem like cartoon caricatures of the elite and out of touch, that to try and make them oversized and cartoonish is impossible. Still, I do think that a better satire of the superrich could have been made other than Michael Winterbottom’s Greed – whose main character is named Richard McCreadie, which of course it takes very little to turn into Rich McGreedy. That’s basically the level of satire going on in this film. That it works as well as it does is a testament to the skills of Steve Coogan, and his supporting cast among them Isla Fisher, Shirley Henderson, Sophie Cookson, and Jamie Blackley. But the film never quite comes off as the fuck you to the superrich that it was clearly intended to be.

 

Coogan plays McCreadie, who has become a billionaire in the retail space in England – opening, and closing, one clothing franchise after another. Mostly its cheap clothes, and the franchises don’t last – but he is able to make a lot of money for himself and his family, before they collapse. The film attempts something like The Big Short, but is more akin Steven Soderbergh’s The Laundromat, as it explains the various ways McCreadie makes a lot of money out of companies, that aren’t making a lot of money. He sells off the land his stores sit on for huge sums of money, then leases the properties back. He then borrows money on the value of the company that is no worth a lot less because they don’t own the land, and filters it back to himself. The companies worth plummets, but his personal worth soars.

 

The film is built around the preparations for McCreadie’s 60^th Birthday party – which will be in Greece, and based on Gladiator, so he’s building his own temporary coliseum. His various family members come to see him – the ex-wife (Fisher) he clearly still loves, but left for a younger woman anyway. His reality TV show daughter (Cookson), whose show is as scripted as any on TV. His son, Asa Butterfield, who doesn’t really like anyone, etc. McCreadie has been embroiled in some scandals – and the A-listers keep dropping out. But he forges ahead anyway.

 

Coogan has made a career out of playing rich assholes – including versions of himself for Winterbottom in The Trip movies (the fourth, and apparently final one, is coming out this month). He certainly makes McCreadie into an asshole – we see flashbacks to him as a younger man screaming at underlings, and his immense wealth hasn’t made him any nicer. What Coogan is always able to do though is show the sad, pathetic man inside – the real person behind the asshole mask. He does that here to some extent as well – but it also kind of clashes with the over-the-top nature of the film.

 

As a director, Winterbottom is both wildly prolific, and wildly uneven. He has collaborated well with Coogan over the years – The Trip movies, 24 Hour Party People (which was Coogan’s more dramatic breakthrough after a successful comic career on TV, The Look of Love (which I didn’t actually see) and best of all, for me anyway, Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story. He’s also made some brilliant literary adaptations – Jude (1996) and The Claim (2000) are probably his two best films for example. But for every great film, there is one that doesn’t quite work. Greed is one of those unfortunately. It’s all just too obvious to really cut close to the bone, and too broad to be really funny. A film like this is a tight rope act – and this time, Coogan and Winterbottom don’t pull it off.

Movie Review: Rewind

Rewind **** / *****

Directed by: Sasha Joseph Neulinger.

 

It can be very hard to make a good autobiographical documentary – your very closeness to the subject, which provides you with unprecedented access, is also the thing that can cloud your judgment – and make it impossible to see things clearly. Occasionally though, one breaks through – and that is the case with Sasha Joseph Neulinger’s Rewind – a film in which he went through hundreds of hours of his old home movies – shot either by his father, Henry, or sometimes himself, to tell the story of cyclical child abuse that the family suffered through. This is a hard sit to be sure – but Neulinger amazingly has some clarity in which to view these events. He knows the little boy in those videos – who often acted over the top, or lashed out, is in so much pain.

 

The movie takes its time revealing the abuse that will be at the center of the film – probably about 30 of the 90 minutes is spent with the audience in the dark of just what is going to happen – although it’s clear from the start that something bad has. Eventually, it will snap into focus, and become the focal point of the film.

 

That is because when he was a child, Sasha was sexually abused by three different family members – his two uncles, Howard and Larry, and Larry’s oldest son Stewart, who was in his 20s at the time. Sasha held his secrets close to him as a child – until he figured out that at some of what was happening to him, was also happening to his younger sister, Bekah, and he revealed enough for his parents to figure it out. And then, the whole can of worms is spilled. Henry isn’t shocked by the revelations – because Larry and Howard had done the same thing to him as a child. He just assumed it was a one off, and he never talked about it to anyone. Not all the abuse is the same – Larry and his son, it is figured, do it out of so misguided attempt to find and express love. Howard is more violent – and is about the need for dominance. It is all abuse, all traumatic and scarring – but it’s different.

 

Making matters worse is that while Larry and Stewart get their legal cases resolved quickly – varying degrees of jail time is assessed; Howard fights it for years. He is a cantor at a major synagogue in Manhattan – and has powerful, rich friends, so can afford to fight it for years, through motion after motion. And poor Sasha has to relive it again and again, as he keeps having to explain to different people what happened.

 

Neulinger’s film does a lot of things. Yes, it tells this harrowing story, from a first-person perspective – including in depth interviews with both of his parents, who reveal their own pain at going through what they did – that among other things ended their marriage. But it’s also a close-up study of the home videos themselves – and how you need to look past the surface, to see the truth underneath. As Henry says, you don’t bring out the camera for sad occasions – but happy ones. So there is footage of Sasha, and his abusers that you sit and watch, and try to parse out any hidden meanings that may be buried there.

 

I do think that ending isn’t quite as strong as the beginning and middle. By the end, the film has settled into a more standard “issue” documentary, making pleas from changes to laws, etc. and advocating a specific position – which while certainly important, it isn’t very different from what we’ve seen in many other child abuse documentaries. What’s special here really is seeing through the eyes of the abused what happened – and then being able to see the aftereffects, right there in old home movies, which were supposed to be of happy times – but ending up capturing the exact opposite.

Movie Review: Spaceship Earth

Spaceship Earth **** / *****

Directed by: Matt Wolf.

 

One of things documentary film is best at, is delving into the details of stories that were only superficially covered by the media when they happened. The story of Biosphere 2 is one such story. It was a relatively big deal in the early 1990s – about a group of 8 scientists, who would lock themselves into what was supposed to be a self-contained biosphere from two years, living off of what they could produce, breathing the air it produced, etc. The biosphere was made up of different pods – each a different type of environment, from the rain forest to the ocean to the desert, etc. Questions about the scientific validity of it all dogged the project throughout – and not without reason. It was bankrolled by a billionaire, who thought eventually, he could make money off of the findings. The group behind it got its start as one of those New Wage commune (some say cults) from the 1970s. They weren’t always up front with everyone about what was going on – they didn’t reveal the presence of a CO2 scrubber for example, or cop to it when one of the members had to leave for surgery, and returned with some outside materials not originally part of the experiment. So, soon after the experiment was over, it was forgotten about – and now most people don’t even remember it happened in the first place.

 

Directed by Matt Wolf, Spaceship Earth has access to a treasure trove of archival material, and contains interviews with most of the surviving players in the drama. It is perhaps too sympathetic to the overall project – you miss the presence of some outside scientists, who perhaps could offer a differing perspective than those involved, who try to downplay and minimize the shortcuts taken. But it offers a more complete view of exactly what happened, and why – and why perhaps it should not have been forgotten.

 

The project was funded by billionaire Ed Bass, and was the brainchild of John Allen – the charismatic leader of that commune, who was always restless, wanting to move onto the next thing. Some have called Allen a cult leader, and its easy to see why that is – but if he was, it wasn’t the kind of cult leader that leads to darkness – no money is being bilked from anyone other than Bass, who willingly gave it up, there are no mass marriages, or cutting people off from their families, etc. People willingly followed Allen wherever he wanted to go – because where he wanted to go was someplace interesting. The people still around still have mainly warm feelings for Allen – who is here as well in interviews. While they all admit mistakes were made, they are still proud of what they did.

 

And it is an interesting story to be sure. Even if there were a few cheats, the people inside did live off of what they could grow themselves – they got sick of beats, which they could grow a lot of, and birthday cakes were always made from bananas. They may have had a CO2 scrubber, but it clearly didn’t make things effortless – there were times when the CO2 spiked dangerously high, and people got exhausted quickly. They all lost weight. There were personality conflicts, and arguments, as you may expect amongst any 8 people trapped in an enclosed space for two years – especially when you consider the kind of personalities who would willingly sign up for this kind of project.

 

Overall, the film is a fascinating look at this experiment – and that precisely what it was, an imperfect, experiment, looking to see just exactly what would happen putting people in these kind of conditions – and what would happen to the different ecosystems, etc. It’s a fascinating story – and one that most modern audiences either don’t know at all, or kind of half remember from when it happened.  As a film, it’s pretty standard – an archival footage, talking heads – style doc. But it’s a fascinating story, well-told. And one that remains relevant today for a host of reasons.

Movie Review: Sorry We Missed You

Sorry We Missed You **** / *****

Directed by: Ken Loach.

Written by: Paul Laverty.

Starring: Kris Hitchen (Ricky), Debbie Honeywood (Abbie), Rhys Stone (Seb), Katie Proctor (Liza Jae), Ross Brewster (Maloney), Charlie Richmond (Henry), Julian Ions (Freddie), Sheila Dunkerley (Rosie), Maxie Peters (Robert), Christopher John Slater (Ben), Heather Wood (Mollie), Albert Dumba (Harpoon), Natalia Stonebanks (Roz), Jordan Collard (Dodge), Dave Turner (Magpie).

 

Ken Loach has made a career of making movies about the losers of capitalism – the ones left behind or exploited by a system designed to make a lot of money for a few people, and leaves the rest of us poorer. Many of those films. Paul Laverty has been writing those films for Loach dating back nearly 25 years now, and together, they have created quite a long resume of films about the underclass in Britain. At their best, they expose something deep and dark – and come the closest modern films to gets to the post-war Italian neo-realists films of Vittorio De Sica, and others. Often though, they feel like route and by the numbers – as if Laverty and Loach find the issue they want to explore first, and then shoehorn in a story that they can make work. Despite the fact that it won the Palme D’or a few years ago (the second Loach/Laverty film to do so), I, Daniel Blake felt like that a few years ago. Their latest however, Sorry We Missed You, feels vital and alive – and really is one of their best, and certainly their best since at least The Wind That Shakes the Barely (2006 – which was the other film to win the Palme).

 

Kris Hitchen stars in the film as Ricky. He’s married to Abbie (Debbie Honeywood), who works as a homecare work for seniors and the disabled – and doesn’t get paid nearly enough for what she does, and the long hours she has to keep. They have a teenage son – Seb (Rhys Stone), drifting down the wrong path, and a younger daughter, Lisa Jae (Katie Proctor), who just wants the family to be happy again. Ricky has worked all kinds of construction jobs over the years – but is tired of it. He wants something of his own. So he ends up signing up with a package delivery service (think Amazon) as a driver. They are not employees – but independent contractors (that means, no guaranteed pay, not benefits, no time off, etc.) You can rent the truck from the company if you want – but that eats away a lot of your daily profit. So Ricky buys a truck he cannot really afford, thinking it will be better in the long run for him. He then starts having to keep up an insane route, which makes him work longer hours than ever before, for a foreman Maloney (Ross Brewster), who looks for any reason he can to ding you – mounting up fines and penalties, that of course, eat into your pay. The company is making a fortune of course – but Ricky cannot get ahead.

 

Loach depicts this family with great sensitivity, and great humanity. They are all doing their part to try and get by – maybe even trying to get ahead. Seb is the rebel – hanging out with his friends, who spend more time doing graffiti than attending school, which will end up hurting the family more and more as the movie goes along. But Seb isn’t doing all of this to be selfish – he’s doing it because he sees no future for himself. He can go to school, but there will be no jobs for him when he gets out, and he’ll be in mountains of debt. So he can end up working like his dad has done, and he’s miserable. Hitchen is great as Ricky – who just gets up every morning, and trudges into work, goes on his route, and tries to make it through to the next day. Even his few brief moments of joy – like the weekend day he takes Lisa Jae with him, are undermined, because he’s not allowed to bring her, and gets in trouble. He is essentially stuck on a hamster wheel – running and running to keep up, if he stops, he’ll be flung off. Abbie is the same – Ricky sold her car to buy the truck, so now she has to take the bus everywhere. She sees people who are neglected and forgotten about by their own families – and isn’t given enough time to properly care for them. But she has to clock in and clock out on time – no overtime allowed.

 

Sorry We Missed You ends up being one of the great depictions of the gig economy we’ve seen on film so far. It is about the disconnect between those doing the work, and those making the decisions (and the money). Maloney is the films de facto villain – but even he really isn’t to blame. He’s just another cog in the machine. If he has to monitor all the drivers to make sure they’re doing what they should be, someone else is monitoring all the depots like his, to make sure he’s doing what he has to. Everyone has to keep running, or get left behind. Loach can sometimes lay things on too thick, or go too far with speeches, or a parade of misery. Here, he gets the balance just right.