Classic Movie Review: Until the End of the World (1991)

Until the End of the World (1991) 

Directed by: Wim Wenders.

Written by: Peter Carey and Wim Wenders and Solveig Dommartin and Michael Almereyda.

Starring: Solveig Dommartin (Claire Tourneur), William Hurt (Sam Farber, alias Trevor McPhee), Sam Neill (Eugene Fitzpatrick), Rüdiger Vogler (Phillip Winter), Max von Sydow (Henry Farber), Jeanne Moreau (Edith Farber), Kuniko Miyake (Mrs. Mori), Chishû Ryû (Mr. Mori), Eddy Mitchell (Rayond Monnet), Adelle Lutz (Makiko), Ernie Dingo (Burt), David Gulpilil (David), Jimmy Little (Peter), Chick Ortega (Chico Remy), Elena Smirnova (Krasikova), Lois Chiles (Elsa Farber).

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens to great directors as they grow older – the differing paths they can take. You can become someone like Martin Scorsese, who changes and evolves with the film industry – still finding ways to produce your art, in a new system that is still undeniably yours. You can be like Clint Eastwood, who seemingly has stubbornly refused to evolve – meaning some of his late films seem like Old Man Yells at Cloud the Movie, but can also produce some interesting contrasts when they work well. Or you can be like Francis Ford Coppola, who basically says screw it, and barely works at all – doing smaller films, when he wants, how he wants. Finally, you can become like Wim Wenders, who has continued to work steadily over the years, but hasn’t produced anything to rival his output in the 1970s and 1980s, when he was one of the best directors in the world, in years. I’m sure we all have our favorite late Wenders film – I personally quite liked his Don’t Coming Knocking (2005), which reteamed him with Sam Shepherd, 20 years after their masterpiece Paris, Texas. But seriously, is anything he’s made in the past 25 years close to the films like Alice in the Cities, Kings of the Road, The American Friend, Paris Texas or Wings of Desire where his reputation was built?

 

Watching the final cut of Wenders’ Until the End of the World (1991) – nearly five hours in all – perhaps gives some insight into what precisely happened with Wenders. As Bilge Ebiri says in essay for the Criterion Collection DVD of this film, Wenders was coming off of Paris, Texas – his ultimate film about America, a country he was obsessed with, and Wings of Desire, his ultimate film about his home country of Germany, which was still divided as it had been all of his life, when he made Until the End of the World. Watching this cut, you get the impression that Wenders is throwing everything he has into this film – every idea, every daring stylistic choice, every cinematic influence all onto the screen in one magnum opus. Perhaps after that, he was just all out of ideas.

 

To describe the plot of the film would take too long – probably as long as the movie itself – but to boil it down to its essentials, for the first three hours or so of the final cut, Until the End of the World is a kind of globetrotting adventure movie, with lots of genre elements, that Wenders puts there, but clearly has little interest in. It follows Claire (Solveig Dommartin) as she meets a man she first thinks is named Trevor, but will find out his real name is Sam (played by William Hurt) – and for some reason, won’t just let him get away. They first meet by happenstance – on the road – as she is transporting a lot of money for a pair of bank robbers, only to find he has taken some of that money. She hires a P.I. and tracks him down again – and loses him again. And on and on and on. The film is narrated by Eugene (Sam Neill), Claire’s ex, who says he wants her back, but doesn’t really do much to make that happen, and doesn’t seem too invested in actually doing it either.

 

The film was shot all over the world – Germany, Portugal, Russia, France, America, Japan, Italy – and eventually settles in Australia, for its final act. It’s here we meet Sam’s parents – played by Max von Sydow and Jeanne Moreau – and the full scope of what has been going on becomes clear. Sydow has essentially created a machine that can record images, and then interacts with memories, which can then be projected into the mind’s eye of someone else – someone blind. And that’s just the first machine – wait until you get to the machine that can record dreams – a handheld device that basically obsesses people, turning them into mindless zombies staring at a screen, who freak out when the battery dies.

 

I probably should have pointed out by now that the film takes place a decade in the future – all the in 1999 – during a time of great stress for humanity, as an Indian nuclear satellite has reentered orbit, and perhaps threatens all of humanity (I may have the details wrong on that – it doesn’t matter). So this is Wenders version of the future, now our past. It is somewhat remarkable to watch this vision of the future from Wenders now, knowing where we’d end up. You do see a lot of devices that look somewhat like we have now – and some that don’t. The film is also one of the first to utilize a lot of digital technology – photography – and what Wenders and his genius cinematographer, Robby Muller, do with it is remarkable. While the film was a financial disaster at the time, the soundtrack was a huge hit – made up of songs by famous artists like Talking Heads, R.E.M. Patti Smith, Lou Reed among others – friends of Wenders, who were intrigued when he called them up and asked them for a song that would represent what they would sound like in 1999. The result is songs that don’t really song like they come from any era – most of these artists got it wrong, but it’s fascinating to see them attempt it.

 

And it’s fascinating to see Wenders attempt what he does here as well. The film was butchered when it was released in 1991 – Wenders knew he couldn’t really deliver what he was supposed to – a two-and-a-half-hour film, so he tried to convince the backers to let him release two films running five hours, and got a no. So, even while he edited his film down to the 157-minute version that played, to negative reviews, and no box office, in 1991, he held onto his own negative of his work print, and kept working on that (making a director’s cut, something rarely done at the time). By the mid-1990s, he would be showing this longer cut in various venues (actually various cuts). And slowly, the reputation of this forgotten failure grew.

 

Seeing the film now is somewhat miraculous. No one is going to call Until the End of the World is flawless film – it isn’t. But it’s one of the most ambitious films ever made – one in which Wenders gets everything on screen he could want. Watching the films early scenes, you can almost play spot the reference – picking up moments from Godard in the early traffic jams, or Ozu in the scenes in Japan – starring some of Ozu’s favorite actors. Some Bergman here, some Ford there, some Antonioni there. And yet, somehow, all Wenders from beginning to end. It’s the oddest of films – the most ambitious of films. It looks fantastic. It has strange images and performances. It was a difficult shoot – it strained the relationship between Wenders and Muller, according to Roger Ebert the two stars weren’t talking off camera by the end, etc. But now, it’s all there onscreen. Perhaps having made this film – and everything he made leading up to it – Wenders just didn’t have anything else to say after. It would make sense.

Movie Review: Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Portrait of a Lady on Fire **** ½ / *****

Directed by: Céline Sciamma.

Written by: Céline Sciamma.

Starring: Noémie Merlant (Marianne), Adèle Haenel (Héloïse), Luàna Bajrami (Sophie), Valeria Golino (La Comtesse).

 

The history of cinema really is the history of the male gaze – of male directors and cinematographers photographing mostly beautiful women in ways that make them beautiful to their own eyes. It hasn’t always been great at showing women as they see themselves, certainly not in ways or eroticism. Céline Sciamma’s Portrait of a Lady on Fire then is a necessary corrective – an example of a love story about women, for women, written and directed by a woman, and with a female cinematographer as well. Part of the reason why Portrait of a Lady on Fire feels so alive – so fresh, so new – is because we are seeing the central pair through a completely different lens than we normally are privy to. This highlights the importance of diversity behind the camera – with giving more people than just straight white men the chance the direct, because the result can be as exciting – as new, as fresh, as Portrait of a Lady on Fire.

 

The film takes place during 1700s, on a remote French island. It’s here where Marianne (Noémie Merlant) has been brought with the express purpose of painting a portrait of Héloïse (Adèle Haenel) by her mother, a countess (Valeria Golino). Héloïse’s older sister has recently committed suicide – throwing herself off of the impossibly gorgeous cliffs on the island – instead of marrying the nobleman from Venice, who she has never met, picked out by her mother. The Countess hopes to salvage the arrange by marrying off Héloïse to the man instead – and simply needs the portrait to send to the Nobleman for his approval. Héloïse was supposed to spend her life in a convent – the life ordained for second daughters at this time – and doesn’t want to marry the man. One portrait painter has already been fired, because Héloïse refused to pose for him. So Marianne is supposed to keep her true purpose secret – she’s there to walk with Héloïse apparently – all the while taking her in, so she can paint her portrait. This results in an okay, but lifeless, portrait of Héloïse – good enough for the Countess’ purposes, but not for Marianne who destroys the portrait, and the ruse comes out. But Héloïse surprises everyone by saying that she will pose for Marianne after all – and as the Countess leaves for a weak, the two of them – joined in the vast house by the young, and unwittingly pregnant maid Sophie (Luàna Bajrami) the love affair begins.

 

It begins really with the pair of them just looking at each other. The long hours spent with Marianne staring at Héloïse, taking her in, getting to know all the small details about her. It’s one of the most erotic scenes in the film when Héloïse calls Marianne over to the place where she is posing for her – and lets her know that all the while when Marianne is watching Héloïse, Héloïse is watching Marianne in return. The love affair then begins with these looks – looks that gradually change, become something more – and more charged. Sciamma wisely waits a long time before anything physical happens at all – the foreplay between them simply building the erotic tension. It all comes spilling out one night at a beach party the three women attend with the local women from the island – who sing with a chorus of voices and clapping, gradually building to a crescendo, that simulates sex itself.

 

When the love affair eventually does become physical, it’s still not in the way we may be expect it to – and just about the furthest thing away from something like Blue is the Warmest Color as is possible. It isn’t a film that lacks nudity – but it is one that shows us that nudity in ways that are different from normal – women flat on their backs for instance, or the playful way she upends expectations of what we’re seeing with a close-up of an armpit.

 

The film calls to my many other of the great romantic films you can think of – Jane Campion’s The Piano for instance, but without the questionable sexual ethics, or Todd Haynes’ Carol for the way in which every look is so charged with erotic energy, or Call Me By Your Name, for the way these two share this secret world that just the two of them can know about. I was also reminded of Martin Scorsese’s The Age of Innocence – for the way in which much of the important stuff is left unsaid, and the fleeting nature of the relationship itself, that is doomed for failure, but will mark both for life.

 

But it is, ultimately, its own film. Sciamma has been a promising director for a while now, and she takes her art to the next level here. The beautiful, painterly cinematography by Claire Scanlon is some of the best of the year (she had a great year, also shooting the wonderful Atlantics for Mati Diop). Merlant’s performance is wonderful – a more independent woman, in a time where there were few, taught to see things not as a man does, but as she does. Haenel is even better as the more innocent, but enigmatic Héloïse – who is given one of the best moments of the year, in the films haunting, tragic final shot that goes on seemingly forever. It’s also a deeply political film, without ever being overt about it – Sophie’s desire for an abortion, and the lengths she and the others go to procure one for her, is never questioned – it’s presented as yet another way in which women and their bodies were controlled then, and remain so now. It is a stunning achievement by Sciamma – and vaults her up among the best directors working today.

Movie Review: The Assistant

The Assistant **** ½ / *****

Directed by: Kitty Green.

Written by: Kitty Green.

Starring: Julia Garner (Jane), Matthew Macfadyen (Wilcock), Makenzie Leigh (Ruby), Kristine Froseth (Sienna), Jon Orsini (Male Assistant), Noah Robbins (Male Assistant), Stéphanye Dussud (The Wife), Juliana Canfield (Sasha), Alexander Chaplin (Max), Dagmara Dominczyk (Ellen), Bregje Heinen (Tatiana), Lou Martini Jr. (John), Liz Wisan (Edwina), Clara Wong (Tess).

 

We never meet the film executive obviously based on Harvey Weinstein that the title character, Jane (Julia Garner) works for in The Assistant – and that is by design, and very smart. An actor in that role would likely take over the film, and the conversation around it – and that isn’t what writer/director Kitty Green is going for in her film. This is a movie about the kind of corporate culture that allows someone like Weinstein to thrive and continue to prey on young women, because everyone is too scared to say anything, to do anything, and even if they do, no one will do anything anyway. This is a sad, low-key film – and it runs just 87 minutes – but its cumulative power sneaks up on you slowly, with devastating effects.

 

This is Green’s follow-up to her underrated and underseen Casting Jon Benet documentary – which I thought was wonderful, but didn’t seem to find the right audience. For the true crime crowd, that film was confusing – they thought they’d see another glossy, blow-by-blow of the famed case (as if we need one) – and I think the real audience for the film assumed that was what it was, and stayed away. What it was though was really about how we, as a society, process something like that case – how we know all the players, all the theories, and understand so little.

 

The Assistant isn’t similar to that film except that it takes a different approach to a well-known story. It would be easy to make a Harvey Weinstein film, where the character is a larger than life monster, that everyone in the audience can feel safe in hating. Hell, you may even be able to make a good film out of it. But what Green is going for here is a portrait of the culture of silence that allows a Weinstein to exist for so long.

 

Jane is a smart young woman – an Ivy League graduate, who wants to be a producer one day, and sees this job – as one of three assistants to the Chairman (that the other two are male, and given better responsibilities, is not an accident). She finds herself answering phones, collecting mail, setting up meetings, printing off reports, etc. – the grunt work that needs to be done. She walks silently through the halls; most people don’t notice her – or pretend not to. She is put in impossible positions – having to answer the phones call from The Wife – where no matter what she says, it will be wrong. Or training the new “assistant” – a waitress from Idaho, with no experience, who will have no real responsibilities, and is being put up in a fancy Manhattan hotel (and seems confused that Jane wasn’t put up in one when she started). She also ferries various women to and from the Chairman’s office, or to nondescript conference rooms to sign some sort of agreements – or returning their jewelry that they somehow left in the chairman’s office.

 

It’s clear that everyone knows what the Chairman is doing. They roll their eyes at this parade of young women, complain about the time they have to waste on their acting reels, and playing nice, or making excuses when he is entertaining them. They don’t care. One woman tells Jane not to worry about it – “She’ll get more out of it then he will – trust me”.

 

The most striking scene – the one where the culture comes into complete focus – is when Jane goes to HR – and is ushered into the office of corporate stooge (a perfectly cast Matthew Macfadyen), who also clearly knows what is happening, but makes it very clear to Jane that nothing is going to be done about it. And, to be fair, when he reads back her complaint to her – it’s all just a bunch of stuff that doesn’t really add up to anything. It’s conjecture, and observations, without much backing it up. As she leaves, he tells her not to worry “You’re not his type” he assures her.

 

So Green isn’t making a film about Weinstein – which, to be honest, I’m not sure could be as interesting as this one is. What of interest is there in a film about a powerful, older man acting like a creep, and pressuring young women into sex? We’ve seen that before. What we haven’t seen, in quite the same way, is the entire picture of the culture around someone like Weinstein – of people who don’t do anything, because it would hurt their careers, their standing, and who feel it wouldn’t change anything anyway. They’re not wrong. And yet, of course, they’re all wrong – and by not doing anything, it is allowed to continue for years, without end. This is a powerful, devastating portrait of that culture – and the first great film of 2020.

Movie Review: Downhill

Downhill ** ½ / *****

Directed by: Nat Faxon and Jim Rash.

Written by: Jesse Armstrong and Nat Faxon & Jim Rash based on the screenplay by Ruben Östlund.

Starring: Julia Louis-Dreyfus (Billie), Will Ferrell (Pete), Miranda Otto (Charlotte), Zoe Chao (Rosie), Zach Woods (Zach), Julian Grey (Finn Stanton), Ammon Jacob Ford (Emerson), Giulio Berruti (Guglielmo), Kristofer Hivju (Safety Patrol).

 

When Hollywood remakes a popular foreign film, I think the assumption is that the audience will not have seen the original – because why else make it? For me, who loved Ruben Östlund’s Force Majeure (2014) then watching Downhill becomes an odd experience. To be fair, there is no reason why Östlund’s should not be able to transfer over to an American film – there is nothing inherently “Swedish” about it that won’t translate – it’s themes about marriage and parenting are universal. Watching Downhill though is an odd experience – not an unpleasant one, but odd – in that the film seems to be a little at war with itself – not quite knowing if it’s a comedy or not, or how broad it should go. And it tries to tack on, if not a happy ending, certainly a less ambiguous one. It’s a film that works in parts, more than the whole.

 

The story is about an American family, on a ski vacation in the Austrian Alps. Pete (Will Ferrell) has picked the more adult resort, rather than the family one 20 minutes away, so his two young sons (probably 12 and 10) are the only kids around. His wife Billie (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) is chipper and cheerful, and trying to put a happy face on everything – but Pete is less sure about any of it. There is an unspoken strain in their marriage that is going to be pushed to the brink because of “the incident”.

 

The incident is question is when the family sitting down to lunch at an outdoor café at the resort, and a controlled explosive, setting off a planned avalanche, goes off. At first, the falling snow is beautiful, but as the wall of snow gets closer, it looks like it will bury them all alive. Pete, instead of helping his wife and kids, grabs his phone and runs away – as Billie and the boys huddle together. Of course, nothing serious happens – they get a little snow dumped on them, but nothing major – but know everyone knows what Pete would do in a crisis – grab his phone, run for his life, and leave his family behind.

 

Ferrell and Louis-Dreyfuss are, of course, expert comedic performers – and both have the ability to play serious if and when they need to. In Downhill, they will have to do both, and to be fair to both of them, they bring it. They are quite funny, and aren’t afraid to embrace the darkly funny material, and yet also play the dramatic moments well. They do seem like a married couple – a middle aged, complacent married couple, who are comfortable with each other, if not exactly happy, even if they don’t quite know that themselves.

 

The problems are that I don’t quite think directors Nat Faxon and Jim Rash ever quite find the right tone for the film – at least not consistently. While Östlund’s film is a dark comedy, specializing in awkwardness – they kind you’d like to escape from, shield your eyes from, but you cannot look away – Faxon and Rash go broader with just about everything. Östlund’s film is an exercise in mastery of control of tone. Faxon and Rash’s film careens wildly all over the place. Individual scenes work – hell, most of the individual scenes work – but I don’t think they really come together, don’t cohere into a whole.

 

Nowhere is this more apparent than in the ending of the film. In Östlund’s film, it is an ambiguous ending – perhaps showing that the cracks are even deeper now, that there are still areas left unexplored. In Downhill, the final scene is played for laughs – a comforting way to end the film, instead of a challenging one. I do think that an American remake of Östlund’s film could be great – I even think Ferrell and Louis-Dreyfuss could pull it off. But it would require filmmakers of more daring and ambition than what they have here. Perhaps the film works better if you haven’t seen Force Majeure – if you have though, you probably just wish you rewatched that film – which would reward a second viewing, more than a first one of Downhill.

Movie Review: Sonic the Hedgehog

Sonic the Hedgehog * ½ / *****

Directed by: Jeff Fowler.

Written by: Patrick Casey & Josh Miller based on characters created by Yuji Naka & Naoto Ohshima & Hirokazu Yasuhara

Starring: Ben Schwartz (Sonic the Hedgehog), Jim Carrey (Dr. Ivo Robotnik), James Marsden (Tom Wachowski), Tika Sumpter (Maddie Wachowski), Natasha Rothwell (Rachel), Adam Pally (Billy Robb), Lee Majdoub (Agent Stone), Neal McDonough (Major Bennington), Tom Butler (Vice Chairman Walters), Frank C. Turner (Crazy Carl), Melody Nosipho Niemann (Jojo).

 

I really, truly try not to grow overly cynical about children’s entertainment these days, even as I know that most of it is about brand extension, and marketing opportunities, and synergies, etc. – and less about creating quality entertainment for children. It’s always been this way to a certain extent, and certainly most children don’t seem to realize it when they watch the movies aimed at them (given how nostalgic so many adults are for the marketing exercises disguised as movies from their youth are, many adults don’t realize – or more likely don’t care – either). And then something like Sonic the Hedgehog comes along, and to be honest, at least temporarily destroys what little faith I have that the filmmakers and studios have any real artistic goals in mind when they make these films. This takes crass marketing to a new level.

 

Sonic is, of course, the titular Hedgehog, who began his existence as in a Sega Genesis game – the game that came with the system when you purchased it in the 1990s – and their attempt to have a success like Nintendo had with the Super Mario Brothers. Since then, he has inspired more games, at least one animated TV show, and a lot of merchandise. Like Alvin the Chipmunks, this movie is a live action/animated hybrid meant to cash in on that nostalgia factor for parents of my generation who grew up with Sonic, who will take their kids, who may or may not him, to the movies because we have affinity for the brand – or at the very least, recognize the name.

 

I could go into the plot of the movie – but what really would be the point? It’s basically a chase film where Sonic, an alien hiding out on earth, has to go on the run (in a car, even though Sonic is the fastest being in existence) with a small town cop (James Marsden) to get away from the smartest man in the world (Jim Carrey) who, of course, just wants to use Sonic for his powers.

 

The cast is full of talented people. Ben Schwartz does the voice of Sonic, and brings the right manic energy to the role. Marsden is an actor I have always liked – especially when he’s being goofy and funny, and am disappointed that Hollywood seemingly doesn’t know what to do with him. Tika Sumpter, who plays Marsden’s wife, is a talented actress. As for Carrey, I’ve admired his willingness to try different things in recent years, to not fall back on his manic ways – which he excels at – over and over again. Here, I guess, the paycheque was too big to pass up – because it’s the schitickest performance of Carrey’s in years.

 

Will kids like the film? Well, mine did – they don’t seem to notice all the crass cynicism behind the marketing, the product placement just this side of Wayne’s World, and the lazy execution of just about everything in the film. They respond to the manic energy on display throughout the film – the juvenile jokes, and the fast moving action sequences. Kids are, well, they’re dumb when it comes to this sort of thing – they’ll eat this up, enjoy it, and forget about it until Sonic 2 comes out – and it will come out, considering what this film made in its opening weekend, and the final scene of the film that sets up a sequel.

 

But shouldn’t we, as parents, demand more for our kids? We should, shouldn’t we? Perhaps we shouldn’t go to films like this when we know they’re nothing but cynical marketing ploys, dreamed up by executives, not by filmmakers, and who have such lazy execution. We don’t though – and I’m as guilty as anyone. We feed our kids junk, which perpetuates the cycle. Most times, it doesn’t bother me. I ate up a lot of junk as a kid, and like most, I outgrew it eventually – demanded more from my entertainment. And it is a pivotal moment in a kid’s life when they first realize that what they are watching is crap. I just wish my kids would get there a little bit faster.

Movie Review: Horse Girl

Horse Girl *** / *****

Directed by: Jeff Baena   

Written by: Jeff Baena and Alison Brie.   

Starring: Alison Brie (Sarah), Molly Shannon (Joan), John Reynolds (Darren), Debby Ryan (Nikki), Jake Picking (Brian), John Ortiz (Ron), Robin Tunney (Agatha Kaine), Matthew Gray Gubler (Darren Colt), Toby Huss (Joe), Dylan Gelula (Jane Doe), Paul Resier (Gary), David Paymer (Doctor), Jay Duplass (Ethan).

 

In her TV work from Community to Mad Men to Glow to Bojack Horseman, Alison Brie has proven herself to be a wonderful versatile actress – mixing comedy and drama certainly within the same shows, and sometimes within the same scenes. But the movies haven’t quite given her much opportunity to do much yet – and the fact that she co-wrote Horse Girl with her The Little Hours director Jeff Baena (that weird Medieval nun comedy, many seemed to like more than I did) would seem to suggest that she wanted to show off a different side of herself – show her range as it were. And, to be honest, Brie is the reason to see Horse Girl – it’s a performance of someone whose mental health has never been good, and is now in rapid decline – and who can no longer realizes how far down she has already fallen. It’s a wonderful performance in a movie that doesn’t really have much else.

 

When we first meet Brie’s Sarah, she seems like a nice, socially awkward loner. She works at a craft store, where she is a trusted employee, with a few co-worker friends, she shares an apartment with Nikki (Debby Ryan) – and if the two aren’t exactly friends, they are at least friendly. But while Nikki is out with her boyfriend a lot, Sarah spends her time watching Purgatory – one of those supernatural detective shows on network TV (the clips from that show are laugh out loud funny – in large part because of the performance by Robin Tunney and Matthew Grey Gubler, who have spent time on the procedural network TV drama beat, and play it up just enough for it to be funny, without quite going over the top). We just think she’s shy – that’s all – until the cracks start showing, and eventually become too much to ignore. Though, because she isn’t particularly close with anyone – her mother is dead, her stepfather is distant, and everyone else is just friendly, not friends, everyone, of course, does ignore it. If there is a larger message to Horse Girl, it may just be that – that as a society, we simply chose to ignore the obviously mentally ill, until it directly impacts out lives.

 

Sarah’s descent makes up the entirety of the movie – we get glimpses of backstory, about her mother, about her beloved horse, who is no longer hers, although just try and stop her from visiting it, and giving a lot of unwanted advice to the teenage girl who knows rides her. There are strange dreams, references to her mother’s “struggles” – and how much she looks like her grandmother, whose struggles were a lot worse before she died, before Sarah was born. Brie does an excellent job in the role – never going too far into theatrics or over the top “crazy” acting that most actors would love to play. Instead, she makes Sarah seem almost reasonable and mostly lucid, even as what she believes keeps getting crazier and crazier, and she starts “losing time”. This all leads to a third act that is the highlight of the film – as all these elements come together in a way that is tricky balancing act for Brie, and director Baena – an extended breakdown that feels just outside reality.

 

The film premiered at Sundance, and to be honest, there are more than a few Sundance clichés running through the film – the forced quirkiness, the recognizable stars in cameos, hell even the lighting and cinematography just scream Sundance. And I kept wanting just a little more, well, something – a little more oomph, a little more ambition perhaps.

 

All told, Horse Girl is a good showcase for Brie – she shouldn’t really need one, as her resume speaks for herself, but with Bojack over, and Glow about to be, perhaps it’s time for her to get a truly great film role. She’d be great in one.

Classic Movie Review: Lenny Cooke (2013)

Lenny Cooke (2013)

Directed by: Joshua & Benny Safdie.

 

I have been meaning to see the two first Safdie brother’s films – Lenny Cooke and Daddy Longlegs – since I loved their third film, Heaven Knows What, and particularly since I was head over heels for Good Time back in 2017. But I’m glad I waited a little bit to catch up with them. Lenny Cooke – their only feature documentary – makes sense in the wake of Uncut Gems. Part of it is the basketball connection – Uncut Gems features Kevin Garnett (who is mentioned, but not seen here) – so it is clear the brothers have a love of basketball, but also see it clear eyed – they don’t romanticize the game, and see it clearly as a moneymaking venture, for the players, and everyone else around it. But it’s also clear that the Safdie have a love for these types of characters – the characters who charge straight through something, even when all signs are telling them to hold up.

 

Lenny Cooke was once the top rated high school basketball player in America – ahead of future stars like LeBron James and Carmelo Anthony. And yet, Cooke never made it to the NBA at all, let alone become a star. He wasn’t even drafted. Lenny Cooke, the documentary, is made up of two parts. The first half of the movie is footage that the Safdie have accumulated from other sources – from interviews with Cooke when we were on top of the world, a guaranteed star. The second half of the film is shot years later – when his basketball career has fizzled out, he is now turning 30, he has gained some weight, and while he puts on a happy face, he is clearly a man with regrets. He was a year older than LeBron – who of course went 1^st overall in the draft, and has become one of the best players the game has ever seen. Cooke made the same decision as LeBron – to bypass college, and go straight into the draft. And then – for a variety of reasons (perhaps because he aged out of high school basketball, and hadn’t player organized ball in 18 months) isn’t drafted. There is a moment, a little earlier, where a scout says of Cooke that he’s at a crossroads – one way, he is a star player in the NBA, the other he becomes a New York playground legend, and nothing more.

 

I doubt the Safdies would have much interest in Cooke had he gone down the first path – and become a star. The New York brothers probably really did know of Cooke, and decide to look into what happened to the legend. They find him in Virginia with his family – the place we saw him in his previous life saying he’d never return to – now living his life. He is outwardly happy – he still has the big personality we saw in the past. But he has been humbled, he has been hurt. And there are times when that comes out – like a scene late in the film when he visits his old New York friends, and complains that they have basically abandoned him.

 

When you watch Lenny Cooke, you know where this is going – you know he’s not going to become a star, since we don’t know his name. Watching those early scenes then have an air of sadness to them. We see Cooke, who has the big personality and confidence, and yet we also see how all that makes him make one mistake after another after another. It’s one thing to have talent – but after only doing showcases for a while, what did he really expect? And yet, it’s also a sad story, because we see all these people pumping his tires, convincing him of things that are unrealistic. And when you’re a kid – 18 years old, from a poor neighborhood, you want to believe what they say.

 

All of the Safdie brother’s films are about self-destructive people in a way – ones who cannot help themselves, and keep following their path down to its end point, even once it becomes clear they need to pull back. Cooke is perhaps the saddest of these characters – in part, of course, because he’s real. But part because he’s perhaps the one who we shouldn’t have suspected to know better – he’s a stupid kid, who does stupid things – and cannot see the end coming. Lenny Cooke is a very good, very sad documentary. Any star athlete in their teens should see it – as a warning of things to come. Most of them will end up like Cooke, not LeBron.