→ March 11, 2023
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Women Talking.

Women Talking doesn’t lie – it is a film of women, almost exclusively, and they do a lot of talking, and since the vast majority of the film takes place in a single room, it has the feel of a stage play that’s been adapted for film. That’s not the case, as this is an adaptation of Miriam Toews’ 2018 novel of the same name, but it does mean it won’t be to everyone’s tastes. It is to mine, though, as I love a movie that’s packed with strong dialogue, although the film’s extreme realism starts to break down near the end once the talking is done and the time for action arrives. (It’s available to stream on Amazon Prime.)

The novel is based loosely on a true story: In the early 2000s, the women in a small, isolated, retrograde Mennonite community in Bolivia would wake up with bruises and blood that indicated they’d been sexually assaulted during the night. The community’s elders claimed that they were making it up, calling it a matter of “female imagination,” and then claimed it was the work of demons. Some of the victims eventually caught their rapists in the act; it turned out a group of men in the colony were using an animal anesthetic to sedate entire families so they could rape the women, with victims ranging in age from 3 to 65. Ten men were convicted of rape or associated crimes and served jail time, while one fled and, as far as I can tell, remains at large.

Women Talking starts with the premise of the attacks and has the women of the colony, many of whom are functionally illiterate and almost none of whom has knowledge of the world beyond the community, hold a vote on whether to do nothing, stay and fight, or leave. The vote results in a tie between the last two options, so a subgroup of the victims meets in one large room in a barn to decide for all of the women what to do. This discussion comes with time pressure, as the elders have told the women they have two days to forgive their rapists or face excommunication. The ensuing debate occupies the majority of the film’s running time.

The cast of Women Talking is an All-Star lineup. Two-time Emmy winner Claire Foy plays one of the women, Salome, who wants to stay and fight, advocating violence if necessary. Jessie Buckley, who has BAFTA and Oscar nominations to her credit, plays Mariche, whose anger comes out as sarcasm and derision directed at her fellow women, although as in most cases we learn that there’s a reason why she acts the way she does. Rooney Mara, herself an Oscar nominee, has probably the best performance I’ve seen from her as Ona, who has become pregnant by her rapist, and who is determined to carve an independent path for herself in a community that denies this to its women. Two-time Tony Award winner Judith Ivey plays one of the older victims in the room and delivers on of the most nuanced performances, as we first get the idea she might be a little daft, only to learn about her character’s depth and strength in layers. And Frances McDormand, the most decorated cast member of all, appears briefly in the film, although by the second time she appeared I’d forgotten her first scene completely.

Which all makes it a bit frustrating that the best individual performance in the movie comes from its lone male cast member, Ben Whishaw. He’s consistently great, but the way the script is written, his character, the milquetoast schoolteacher August, has the broadest range of emotions and actions, He’s hopelessly in love with Ona, who appears to return his affections to some degree but has refused to ever marry anyone. He’s in the room as the scribe, since he’s one of the few colony members who can read and write, but often finds himself asked for his opinions, which are then welcomed by some of the women and derided by others (Mariche in particular). It’s a numbers game – the women are all sharing the bulk of the great dialogue, while Whishaw is the sole male voice, and he’s half of the only real interaction between any two characters that doesn’t come from the stay/leave debate.

For most of its running time, Women Talking had me completely in its grasp, but the way the story resolves broke that spell. There’s a strong element of feminist fantasy here, almost from the start, but I could stay with it until the plot has to leave that one room. Either decision would have presented problems for the script, but this particular choice of resolution was improbable and also highly impractical, to the point where I couldn’t extend my suspension of disbelief enough to accept it. It takes a potentially great movie down to an above-average one, a 60/65 to a 55, although the power of much of the dialogue and some of the individual moments still stayed with me.

Women Talking took two Oscar nominations this year, one for Best Picture, which I think is fine given the other nominees; and one for Best Adapted Screenplay, which I know it probably won’t win but I think should get strong consideration because the script itself is so dense. This is all dialogue, and so much of the dialogue is great – although, again, this story puts vocabulary into the mouths of these characters that may not be realistic for women who’ve been denied education or worldly experience – that the film relies more on the quality of its script than most.

That’s nine of the ten Best Picture nominees for me; I can’t be bothered sitting in a theater for three and a half hours to watch the blue people, especially since I never saw the first Avatar. I haven’t changed my overall opinion that Everything Everywhere All At Once is the best movie of 2022, and the one I most want to see win the top honor. I’ll have more thoughts on the Oscars and my top movies of the year on Sunday.

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→ January 28, 2023
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All Quiet on the Western Front.

All Quiet on the Western Front took home nine nominations for this year’s Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best international Feature (as Germany’s submission). It is, as you might know, adapted from Erich Maria Remarque’s 1929 novel of World War I. It’s big, and epic, and certainly lets you know where everyone involves stands on the subject of war. (They think it’s bad.) It’s also a film that doesn’t have any good reason to exist.

Paul Bäumer (Felix Kammerer) is our protagonist, an idealistic and nationalistic 17-year-old in Germany who signs up to fight for the fatherland in 1917, more than halfway through World War I. He and his schoolmates are quickly disabused of any notions of war as heroic or noble, as they’re thrown right into trench warfare and find one of their number dead before they can fire their first shot. We follow them through the next eighteen or so months, till the Armistice, as one by one they’re killed in battle, often in circumstances that might be ridiculous if they weren’t so tragic. Along the way, we see them hungry, disillusioned, bored, and filthy, along with occasional reminders of the use of chemical weapons that marked World War I for particular brutality. The film cuts away to scenes of negotiations between German and French leaders or discussions among German brass, all of which take place in relative luxury – and clean, dry conditions – compared to the sodden trenches in which Paul and his mates fight and die.

I had to read Remarque’s novel in high school and hated it, yet somehow, despite looking incredible, this film doesn’t do the book justice. There’s a key passage in the book where Paul goes home to visit family from the front and finds that he’s already changed enough that he can’t relate to his relatives and friends any more. They don’t understand what he’s been through, and he’s not the same person they knew before he went to fight. The film omits it entirely, in favor of those stolid scenes of generals and diplomats. The latter provides that strong contrast – there’s a scene where one of the men is upset because the croissants were clearly not baked that same morning – but it also wrecks any momentum the war story has, and it doesn’t help the character development in the way that the book’s scene where Paul goes home would have, something he doesn’t really get until a bit much later in the film when he’s trapped in no man’s land with a French soldier.

The movie does look fantastic, though, even when it’s gruesome. There are tremendous aerial shots of the battlefields, tight shots of the men in battle that put you uncomfortably close to the action, and trenches that I assume they just reused from 1917. One of the Oscar nominations came for Makeup and Hairstyling, and you can see why; these men look disgusting. There’s a clear commitment here to verisimilitude, and while I can’t say this is what World War I really looked like, it’s definitely what I think World War I really looked like.

All Quiet on the Western Front is about two and a half hours long, and not brisk, which gave me a lot of time to think about the bigger picture (pun intended), and I couldn’t escape the conclusion that this film doesn’t need to exist. We don’t really need an anti-war movie, not of this sort, at least, when war hasn’t looked like this in a hundred years, and so much fighting today is done via drones that separate killer from victim. We don’t need another World War I movie, especially since we just had one four years ago, and that war doesn’t have the more enduring lessons to impart that World War II or Vietnam or Iraq (the second one) do. And this movie has nothing new to say about war or the book, which has been filmed at least twice before, including the 1930 American version that won Best Picture. New takes on existing films should bring something new, and this one can only offer better cinematography and makeup.

I can’t believe this film got nine nominations while Decision to Leave, South Korea’s submission for the Best International Feature Film award, was shut out. There’s no comparison here – Decision is an original story, a better story, better acted, and with more to say. Argentina, 1985 is better. La Caja, which didn’t even make the shortlist, is better. All Quiet is more technically ambitious, but it’s nowhere near as compelling as those films, and I don’t think the point of the Best International Feature award, where countries from all over the world should be competing on equal footing, is to reward the film with the biggest budget. This is a big movie, and a fine one, but it is absolutely not a great one.

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→ January 5, 2023
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Glass Onion.

I loved Knives Out, even acknowledging some of its weak points, because the core mystery was done so incredibly well – including plenty of misdirection – and the dialogue sparkled with all kinds of humor, not least from the detective Benoit Blanc. Writer-director Rian Johnson signed a deal with Netflix to produce several sequels, the first of which, Glass Onion, appeared on the site right before Christmas. Glass Onion gets the humor stuff right, arguably even more than the original, and adds a second character who outshines Blanc, but the mystery is inferior to its predecessor and there’s nowhere near the effort to mislead the viewer that a strong mystery film or novel should have.

Glass Onion does give us Blanc (Daniel Craig), this time on a Greek island owned by billionaire tech bro Elon Musk Miles Bron (Edward Norton), who is hosting a weekend murder-mystery party for five of his friends. Blanc received an invitation, but Bron didn’t send him one, so the latter is confused but also pleased to have someone so famous at his gathering. The other guests include Andi Brand (Janelle Monáe), who co-founded Alpha with Bron but was forced out in an ugly legal battle; Connecticut Governor Claire DeBella (Kathryn Hahn), who’s running for Senate on Bron’s dime; Lionel Toussaint (Leslie Odom, Jr.), Alpha’s chief scientist; Duke Cody (Dave Bautista), a Twitch streamer and men’s rights activist; and Birdie Jay (Kate Hudson), a model, fashion designer, and total dingbat. Birdie’s assistant and Duke’s girlfriend are also along for the ride. It’s very And There Were None, along with any of several Poirot novels where he’s invited to a gathering and ends up solving a murder (like Cards on the Table), so of course someone here ends up dead and Blanc has to solve the case.

Glass Onion is stuffed with humor of many kinds, including the ongoing satire of Bron, who is insufferably pretentious but also prone to malapropisms and rather transparently full of himself. He’s also in love with his gadgets and consumes conspicuously. On the other end of the humor spectrum, Hudson is hilarious as a fatuous and truly not very bright sendup of a type, one not unconnected to Hudson herself, since she’s the founder of Fabletics and Birdie started an athleisure line of her own. The film takes place around May of 2020, and we meet Birdie as she’s holding a giant, maskless party, while her assistant Peg refuses to give her back her phone because Birdie tweeted a slur (or more than one). I actually enjoyed the lower-brow humor, not least how dimwitted Birdie can be, than the satire, which was a more hit than miss but still a bit inconsistent.

The mystery, however, doesn’t live up to that of the first film, where suspicion was spread across a wide array of characters, and the script kept trying to redirect your attention to different suspects. Here, there’s one most likely culprit, and the film doesn’t spend much time trying to make you think it’s anyone else. I didn’t want that person to be the killer, because it was the least inspired choice of all. You might know who it is just from that description, which is unfortunate, but I think speaks to the way the ending here disappointed me.

It’s still a rollicking time, though, almost never letting up on the humor, and it’s buoyed by a great performance from Monáe, one of the best of her career. Monáe has always showed talent but she hasn’t had many opportunities to act in strong films since Moonlight. Her role here is far more challenging than it might first appear, as that character has unexpected layers to it, and she’s up to the task, whether it’s delivering dry humor, mockery, or faux-intellectualism, or acting the spy or even a little bit of the action hero. She even outshines Craig, who’s in fine form as Blanc but has far less to do this time around than he did in Knives Out, at least in exploring or growing the character. He has one scene right when all the guests sit down to dinner and Bron explains the rules for the murder mystery (the game, not the real one) where he goes full Blanc in the best way, and I hope in future films we get more of that. Glass Onion is like one of those Christie novels where Poirot doesn’t even show up until the second half of the film – you’re still entertained, but you want more of the character you really paid to see.

Then there’s the bombastic ending, which ties a few things together, including the necessary fulfillment of Chekhov’s gun, but goes on quite some time after the killer is revealed. Knives Out ended so perfectly, tying up every loose end while gently mocking itself and the conventions of the genre, that the shift to a very Hollywood-style resolution was surprising – it’s hard to imagine Poirot or Miss Marple or even Tommy and Tuppence in that situation, which was more befitting of the Continental Op, if even that. What leads up to the slam-bang finish is pretty clever, and the immediate aftermath is a satisfying comeuppance as well. I don’t mind fireworks per se, but I guess I wanted this film to adhere to its genre’s style more like the first one did.

That’s a lot of words about what was wrong with a movie that I ultimately liked, but you can’t talk about Glass Onion without comparing it to Knives Out. Where the first film might have been a little too by-the-book when it comes to the genre, Glass Onion got away from it more than I’d like. I’m here for all the Benoit Blanc films, but I hope the next one has more of him and a stronger mystery, with all of the same kind of humor.

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→ November 29, 2022
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Top Gun: Maverick.

Unlike many people my age, I hold no particular nostalgia for Top Gun. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the movie start to finish, and I have no desire to do so now. I remember the girls in middle school loved it for Tom Cruise, and the guys loved it because pew pew pew airplanes. You also couldn’t escape the soundtrack, which ranged from tolerable (“Danger Zone,” which was 20+ years from its real cultural import, as a Sterling Archer catch phrase) to insufferable (“Take My Breath Away,” by an emasculated Berlin). The movie was a huge commercial success, but critics remained unimpressed.

So when Top Gun: Maverick (rentable on amazon) was first rumored, I admit to some strong disinterest. The sequel to a movie that wasn’t supposed to be all that great 36 years ago? Tom Cruise may not really age, but come on. Dude’s 60 now, right? Is he only allowed to fly the plane before dusk? Will this just be another stop on the “make Miles Teller happen” tour?

Of course, the movie is very good. It’s a popcorn blockbuster, and has its moments of absurdity, starting in the cold open, but it is fun, well-paced, often smarter than its ilk, and gives us some real moments of character development without resorting to schlock or excessive fan service. I was shocked by how much I enjoyed the film just about from start to finish, and if you chop off the unnecessary and ridiculous opening sequence – where Maverick (Cruise) absconds in a fighter jet to fly it at Mach 10, which is about three times faster than any manned plane has ever traveled, just because “ten” sounds cooler than “four” – it has just one eye-rolling moment the rest of the way.

Maverick is in the film’s title, but the script makes quite a bit of room for other characters, including the son of his former colleague Goose (played by Teller). Maverick is more or less given one last case before he retires, as he’s drafted to lead a crash course of a dozen elite young pilots to identify a few who can engage in a secret mission to destroy a weapon in an unnamed country. The weapon itself is located in incredibly inhospitable terrain, at the bottom of a valley surrounded by very high, steep peaks, so flying in and out requires skill, timing, and endurance. As movie challenges go, it’s a pretty good one, and evokes without actually naming a certain country we’ll be playing in football later today. The group of wannabe aces includes Teller’s Bradley Bradshaw, who thinks Maverick is the one who tried to stop his naval career; Hangman (Glen Powell), affably arrogant but also very much a team player; Phoenix (Monica Barbaro), the lone woman in the group, who is often the voice of reason and exudes a sort of quiet confidence; Bob (Lewis Pullman, son of Bill), nerdy – you know this because he has glasses – but of course highly skilled; and more. Maverick has to figure out who can handle the mission’s demands while also figuring out why Bradley is still so mad at him, and, of course, he has to deal with higher-ups (including Jon Hamm) who question his reliability and willingness to follow orders.

What Top Gun: Maverick does right, better than most films that aim for such a broad audience, is avoid the worst cliches of the genre. There’s a love interest between Maverick and Penny (Jennifer Connelly), but it’s deeply understated, and the most serious moment between the two is both unromantic and important to the plot. The younger pilots are a little thinly drawn, but the script takes them seriously as people, and Phoenix isn’t just there as someone’s love interest. We never even see the enemy, which is good as it avoids depicting them in stereotype, but also mirrors modern warfare’s remove from the people it’s killing (for better and worse).

Maverick also comes across as a man of a certain age, and that might have been the most surprising part of the film. Top Gun: Maverick lets its title character stare into the abyss, however briefly, and it is a much stronger film for it. He’s a bit too perfect, as the story seems to think he hasn’t lost any reaction time despite the character being at least in his late 50s, which is definitely not true to life, but there’s a wisdom to the character, and a reserve as well, that befits the character’s age and experience.

Of course, the script goes well over the top in two pretty significant ways. The opening sequence is scientifically preposterous, while the big plot development later in the film, where Maverick and Bradley have to work together to survive, just beggars belief. You can get past the first one, because the story them moves into the actual plot, but the second one blew me right out of the film, and made everything that came after seem artificial.

The other way this film goes over the top is in its pro-military bent. Like most movies that include the U.S. military as part of its story, Top Gun: Maverick received substantial assistance from the U.S. armed forces, and they were allowed to make subtle alterations to the script. It’s not a propaganda film per se, but the film is full of propaganda. The U.S. military looks good here. There’s no mention of, say, the civilian casualties that often result from U.S. airborne operations in foreign countries – to say nothing of the violation of sovereignty involved. Navy good, enemy bad. It doesn’t quite devolve into the level of a recruitment video, as some critics charged, but you’d have to cover your eyes to miss the military’s guiding hand here.

There’s talk of Top Gun: Maverick getting an Oscar nomination for Best Picture, which, sure, fine, it’s not going to win, and whether it’s worthy depends a lot more on what other films are contenders. It should get a slew of nominations for technical awards, as well as one for Best Cinematography, one for Best Film Editing, and perhaps two in the sound categories. Anything more than that, like an acting nod for Cruise, would be overkill. This is a perfectly enjoyable movie on its own merits. We don’t have to overpraise it to appreciate it for what it is.

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