→ November 15, 2022
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See How They Run.

The success of Knives Out in 2019 didn’t just spawn a highly-awaited sequel, Glass Onion, which hits theaters later this month – it has spawned attempts to capitalize on its success, with two similar movies coming out this fall, See How They Run and Amsterdam. These movies are like catnip to me, as I love mysteries and detective stories in general, and Agatha Christie stories in particular, having read 50 of her novels and four of her short story collections. See How They Run doubles down on this, as it’s a period piece mystery that involves Christie’s famous play The Mousetrap and eventually features an appearance by the Queen of Murder herself as a character. So while I recognize this film’s limitations, I also loved just about every minute of it. (It’s streaming free now on HBO Max, or rentable everywhere, including Amazon.)

See How They Run is a bit more than a perfunctory murder mystery, though, as the script engages in some legerdemain, even starting out in one direction before the murder takes place and the whole thing shifts. After that point, we get our intrepid investigators, the overeager young Constable Stalker (Saoirse Ronan), who is one of the first women in that position in the London police; and Inspector Stoppard (Sam Rockwell), the drunken detective of stereotype. Someone has been murdered after the 100th performance of The Mousetrap, and, of course, everyone’s a suspect, from the actors to the playwright to the stage director. Constable Stalker is new to the homicide beat, so she starts jumping to conclusions, assuming every suspect is guilty, giving the film the biggest of its running gags, although Ronan’s performance makes it work. There is, of course, another murder, and the script plays around with the tropes of the British murder mystery, many of which Christie invented, before getting to the identity of the murder.

The script is about 80% formula, 20% clever, but this is a formula I happen to love, and there is at least a playfulness in the script that nods to the inherent predictability of it all. The core mystery is both well hidden and well written, credible with enough clues dropped along the way that at least in hindsight you can see how you might have figured it out. (I did not.) There is also some humor in here, not as much as Knives Out offered, but a number of laugh-out-loud moments for me from the bantering and a few sight gags. Your mileage may vary, of course.

What really makes this movie, though, is Ronan’s performance. We’ve seen Ronan be funny, including her Oscar-nominated turn in Lady Bird, but we’ve never seen her be this silly, and she seems to throw herself completely into it. Her comic timing is great, but she manages to make Stalker a comic character without making her seem totally un-serious. Stalker’s overzealousness actually leads to a significant blunder, although even that scene is also kind of funny, but she’s never an object of pity or derision, and Ronan’s portrayal is the main reason. Stalker is earnest but green, and her errors, even when played for laughs, are borne of inexperience rather than incompetence.

Rockwell, on the other hand, is a replacement-level detective here, with a generic British accent and nondescript mannerisms beyond a slight limp that itself becomes fodder for the script’s mockery of the formula. I’m not sure why Rockwell was chosen for a role when there are plenty of English actors available, but he doesn’t have a real direction here – he doesn’t lean into the role and ham it up, but he also doesn’t give the character any urgency or gravitas. The conventions of the genre almost require one or the other, and instead Rockwell gives a fine but ultimately forgettable performance. The remainder of the cast is mostly big names or great actors in bit parts. The one major exception is David Oyelowo, who plays the closeted writer Mervyn Cocker-Norris and is clearly having a blast, while also getting a good amount of screen to chew. Adrien Brody is very good but doesn’t log enough minutes, and Ruth Wilson, who was stunning as Jane Eyre in the 2006 BBC mini-series of that name, is barely in the film at all.

The script does offer a bunch of Easter eggs for hardcore Christie fans, some of which appear in this EW story, although I won’t mention them here beyond the one in the title – the original name of The Mousetrap was Three Blind Mice. I caught a couple, but clearly missed the majority, although I admire the cleverness in slipping so many tiny nods to Christie, her works, and her adherents into the script. That may have ultimately worked against the finished film, however, as there’s so much Christie-ness or those that there’s probably less plot and less humor than there could have been. It doesn’t fare that well in comparison to Knives Out for that very reason. If you liked that film and also just like this genre, you’ll probably enjoy See How They Run as I did. If you aren’t a fan of witty murder mysteries, though, this isn’t going to have the same broader appeal that Rian Johnson’s hit film did.

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→ October 20, 2022
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Athena.

Athena is the newest feature from Romain Gavras, son of Oscar-winning writer and director Costa-Gavras, who has a great eye for action sequences and can put you right on the edge of your seat, starting out this film with a literal and figurative bang. The script has Shakespearean aspirations, but the story doesn’t work well enough to achieve its goals or to match the quality of the action sequences.

Athena is the name of a housing complex in an unnamed French city that is home to a large population of Algerian-French citizens, and as the film opens, we see one of them, a police officer named Abdel (Dali Benssalah, who was in No Time to Die), asking for peace in the wake of the death of his 13-year-old brother Idir. A video has gone viral showing Idir’s beating death at the hands of several men in police uniforms, which serves as the spark in the powder keg of Athena; Abdel has barely finished speaking when the camera spans to the crowd, where we see a young man, Karim (Sami Slimane), lighting a Molotov cocktail that he’ll throw into the police station. This leads to a daylong standoff between Athena residents, led by Karim, who is Idir’s and Abdel’s brother, demanding the police deliver Idir’s killers to them, and the French police, with Abdel caught in the middle, distrusting his superiors and trying to avoid any further harm to his family.

The action sequences in Athena are fantastic, starting with that Molotov cocktail and Karim’s followers invading the police station to try to loot it of weapons. It ends in one of several memorable shots, this one with Karim and company standing or sitting at the edge of one of the roofs in the complex, all steely-eyed and determined and also too young to be doing this. His side will end up taking a police officer hostage, something telegraphed from the very beginning of the film, further ratcheting up the tension amid the uncertainty whether he’s going to survive, or whether any of the brothers – there’s a third, a drug dealer with anger management problems named Moktar – are going to either. It’s a grim view of modern French society and the relationship between the police and the people, although it may be a realistic one.

The script seems more concerned with keeping the tension cranked up to 11 than with advancing the plot in a meaningful way, or saying anything beyond, hey, there’s a lot of anger out there, you know? The film isn’t making an actual statement on police violence, as the police in the film respond to Abdel by saying they believe Idir’s killers were in fact far-right agitators wearing police uniforms to try to light the match and usher in some kind of race war; the uncertainty around that is enough to muddle the narrative even as it also casts Abdel’s choices in a different light.

The brothers are all Muslims, as are most of the residents of Athena, but the film does next to nothing with this information. This feels like a huge omission – the rights of Muslims in France remains a contentious issue, on top of decades of discrimination against Algerians, and Athena just ignores it. The police shown in the film are at least somewhat diverse, with Black and white officers, and of course Abdel as a Muslim officer, which could be fodder for multiple subthemes, but the movie can barely handle Abdel’s dual role as a cop and an Algerian resident of the Athena complex, with no energy left for anything else.

Even as an action movie, with plenty to recommend it on that score, Athena feels a bit like empty calories because it can’t stick the landing at all, choosing a slam-bang finish over a meaningful or even a sensible one. It’s just my inference, but I certainly thought the way the film ends indicated pretensions towards Shakespearean tragedy, but in this case, the tragic deaths are just not earned, not one of them. It just ends up aggravating you because you can’t help but feel like all that buildup was for nothing. It’s 80 minutes of a sugar rush and 20 minutes of insulin shock. For a film that starts with a ton of promise, and features some incredible cinematography and memorable shots, it ends in a disappointing fizzle.

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→ August 25, 2022
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Everything Everywhere All At Once.

Everything Everywhere All At Once is a madcap adventure, a martial-arts action film, a dark comedy, a sci-fi romp, bursting at every seam with ideas and dad jokes. It’s a brilliant work of screenwriting, carried by a career performance from the always wonderful Michelle Yeoh – who nearly wasn’t even in the film. (You can rent it on Amazon, Google Play, iTunes, etc.)

The film, written and directed by the Daniels (Kwan and Scheinert, who also directed the bawdy video for Lil Jon’s “Turn Down for What”), follows Evelyn (Yeoh), a harried, unhappy laundromat owner, married to the hapless Waymond (Ke Huy Quan). They have a daughter, Joy (Stephanie Hsu), and Evelyn’s estranged father, Gong Gong (James Hong, who turned 91 during filming), who is just arriving from Hong Kong. Evelyn is preparing a welcome party for her father while also staring down piles of receipts for an upcoming IRS audit (with Jamie Lee Curtis playing the tax authority’s agent). It’s clear that Evelyn is unhappy across the board in her life, but while the two are in the elevator at the IRS offices, Waymond suddenly changes and begins telling Evelyn that theirs is just one universe among many in the multiverse, and in his (the Alphaverse), people can verse-jump, gaining special skills from their parallel selves – but one person, Jobu Tupaki, has used this to accumulate immense power and is threatening to destroy all universes at once. It’s up to Evelyn, our universe’s Evelyn specifically, to save them all.

Part of the genius of this script is its combination of highbrow philosophical questions with lowbrow humor. The difference between existentialism and nihilism, with the former holding that the only meaning in life is created by the individual while the latter views life as meaningless, full-stop, is at the core of the movie; Jobu Tupaki sees and experiences all universes simultaneously, and thus believes that there is no meaning anywhere, only pain. (I don’t think there’s a Major League reference here, but I also wouldn’t say it’s impossible given some of the other allusions here, including one to a 1990s alternative song that is so perfectly integrated into the dialogue I had to pause the movie just to admire it.) Jobu is the film’s Bazarov, accumulating followers in a sort of nihilist cult, even as she seems to be speeding towards her own destruction.

The Daniels originally envisioned Jackie Chan in the main role, but rewrote the script to make the lead character a woman, with Yeoh their first choice, and the decision to re-center the film around not just a woman but a mother and an immigrant changes one of the film’s core messages. Evelyn is asked to run the family business and manage the family, to handle the finances and the relationships and organize this ridiculous party for a father who disowned her decades earlier when she chose Waymond and his dubious financial prospects against her parents’ wishes. Of course she has to save the universe: She’s a mother. If this wasn’t written as a commentary on the modern working American mother, who is expected to do it all and 20% more, it sure as hell plays like one – and Yeoh never lets us forget it, with an undercurrent of stress on her face throughout almost the entire movie. It’s a tour de force of a performance, one that lets her show tremendous range, and I’m going to hazard the opinion that it’s the best thing she’s ever done, even though I know I haven’t seen most of her performances because she’s been extensively pigeonholed since Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Look at her filmography – it’s a sad commentary on the industry’s narrow view of Asian-American actors, and I haven’t even mentioned that this is Quan’s first film role in 20 years after he retired due to the lack of interesting parts offered to him.

The movie is also highly, consistently funny, from the allusions to wordplay to some gross-out jokes to some of the bizarre parallel universes we see, like the one where people have hot dogs for fingers, or the one where there are no people, just rocks. The sheer audacity of much of the humor, often right in the middle of a huge action sequence or a big emotional scene, helps some of the goofier jokes land, and even makes what is probably the grossest gag in the film much more acceptable. It feels like a film written by two people who never said no to the other’s wackiest ideas, and in this milieu, where we’re suspending disbelief to allow for its premise of travel between parallel universes, that sort of humor is almost a requirement. I do think the Daniels missed an opportunity by not having Eels or at least Mark Oliver Everett on the soundtrack, though.

I thought the story here ended exactly where it should, and the script gets to that point in a reasonable and not too predictable fashion, although it does involve a big downshift from the intensity of the first ¾ of the film. There’s yet one more theme that comes up in the back half of the film that further informs the ending, although discussing that would involve a significant spoiler; I’ll go as far as saying that I thought that was handled perfectly and hope those of you who’ve seen it know what I’m addressing. I doubt I’m going to find ten films this year that I liked more than this, or five performances by actresses I like more than Yeoh’s. It’s just a fantastic film in almost every way.

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→ June 30, 2022
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House of Gucci.

Whoa boy, House of Gucci is a mess of a film – it shouldn’t have surprised anyone that it was nearly shut out at the Academy Awards, taking just a single nomination for Hair & Makeup (well earned), because just about nothing in this movie works at all. Other than wasting a solid performance from Lady Gaga, there is nothing remarkable about this movie at all. It’s long, and sort of nice to look at, but the story is boring, the humor often doesn’t land, and it moves like someone fired the director halfway through the shoot.

Based loosely on the actual story of the fall of the Gucci family empire, House of Gucci follows Patrizia Reggiani (Lady Gaga), an office manager in her father’s trucking firm who courts the hapless Maurizio Gucci (Adam Driver), heir of the majority shareholder of the Gucci fashion house. After they marry, she asserts herself and pushes Maurizio to be more aggressive at the company, leading him into conflict with his uncle Aldo (Al Pacino) and cousin Paolo (Jared Leto, looking as handsome as ever). When Maurizio does take the reins, however, his marriage to Patrizia sours, leading her to hire a couple of hitmen to kill him.

The story itself is more than juicy enough for a great movie – and perhaps the book on which this is based is better than the film – but the script is a dud. There’s very little tension in the story, much of which hinges on arcane financial maneuvers, and there’s no real reason to believe that Maurizio and Patrizia would get together. It doesn’t help that there’s zero chemistry between Driver and Lady Gaga. But the script mostly wastes some good material here: These are terrible people, most of whom aren’t very bright, and the film does nothing with all of this. It’s so rarely funny that it’s hard to understand why anyone made a movie about these people without at least trying to mine some humor from the situation – or playing it straight as a financial drama, like Margin Call.

Other than Lady Gaga, nobody is very good in this movie, and they’re just about all worse for the decision to make everyone use Italian accents – even though they’re actually speaking English. Driver’s accent is bad, and he’s really charmless throughout the movie. Pacino gets a WOO-AH! or two in, and his accent is passable. Jeremy Irons appears near the beginning of the movie as Maurizio’s emphysemic father, with an especially bad accent and makeup that makes him look dead several scenes before he’s actually dead.

And whoa boy is Jared Leto bad in this – not least for his ridiculous, that’s-a-spicy-meat-a-ball! accent, which I assume he ordered off the specials menu at Olive Garden. Is he supposed to be Mario or Luigi? I half-expected him to tell Maurizio he need-a the sheets for the table. Chef Boyardee is more authentically Italian than this pagliaccio. It’s the Little Caesar’s of accents. It’s Parmesan cheese, from Wisconsin. It’s commedia della farte. But he’s also just flat-out overacting, too, infusing the character with nothing useful at all. He turns Paolo into a two-dimensional joke, and not a funny one. He’s a moron, yes, but morons can be funny, or kind, or can elicit our empathy. Leto’s Paolo does none of these. He just sucks the air out of the scene every time he appears.

The best part? It’s over two and a half hours! One of the key plot points, where Patrizia decides to have her husband killed, is relegated to maybe ten or fifteen minutes at the very end of the film, and the aftermath just gets one small scene of Patrizia in the courtroom. It’s as if the screenwriters didn’t understand any of what made this story interesting. Lady Gaga probably deserved an Oscar nomination for her work in this mess – certainly over the impersonations that took up three of the five spots for Best Actress – but there’s no other reason to watch this. (If you still want to, though, you can rent it on amazon or iTunes.)

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→ June 28, 2022
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Cha Cha Real Smooth.

Cha Cha Real Smooth subverts many of the conventions of the rom-com, throwing two people together in a situation that might lead to love and/or sex in most movies, but thanks to some smart, subtle twists to the formula, ends up a coming-of-age movie about being in your 20s.

It’s the second film from writer-director Cooper Raiff, whose 2020 debut Shithouse received very positive reviews, but this time he’s working with a bigger budget and much bigger names in the credits, including Dakota Johnson, who plays Domino, the single mom who lives near Raiff’s recent Tulane graduate Andrew. Domino is about ten years older than Andrew is, and has a daughter, Lola, who is autistic. (She’s played by autistic actress Vanessa Burghardt, making her first appearance in film or TV.) They all meet at a bat mitzvah, where Andrew, who works at a fast-food place in the mall called Meat Sticks, shows a knack for getting kids out on the dance floor, leading Domino to bet him a grand that he can’t get Lola to dance. He does, which leads some of the moms at the party to ask him to be the DJ and party starter for their kids’ b’nei mitzvah, a job that might overstate his readiness for prime time but also keeps him and Domino in each other’s orbits. She has a fiancé who’s often working out of town, while Andrew has a girlfriend studying in Barcelona. Andrew, meanwhile, still lives with his mom (Leslie Mann), stepdad Greg (Brad Garrett), and younger brother David (Evan Assante), the last of whom is trying to land his first kiss with his girlfriend, for which Andrew gives him a substantial amount of often-dubious advice.

Raiff has created some fantastic characters here, and while the dialogue can be a bit clunky, he seems to have a knack for seeing how different characters might react to and interact with each other. The Andrew-Domino dynamic is the beating heart of the film, especially in the way that Andrew tries to use his charisma on Domino and charm her the way he might have charmed women in college – to which she’s a little susceptible, but not in the way that he hopes. The same trick doesn’t work as well on everyone else, though, which is a part of Andrew’s challenge in the film: He thinks he’s a fully formed adult, and knows the ways of the world, but of course he doesn’t and is going to stub his toe or worse as he learns those lessons.

There’s a lot going on in Cha Cha Real Smooth, and it doesn’t always land. Andrew’s mom is bipolar, and had a manic episode at some point in the recent past, but that detail is dropped halfway through the film and never really returns, unless you want to count that as the reason she married Greg – but I don’t think that adds up. You can see where the Barcelona girlfriend thing is going pretty quickly, and the story would have worked just as well without it. It’s also really unclear why Andrew continues to get DJ/Party Starter gigs after his first fiasco, other than plot convenience, although it does lead to a very satisfying scene at what I presume is his final fiasco while also setting up a great denouement with the closest thing Andrew has to an antagonist. I also wish Mann and Garrett, who are both great in small roles, had a bit more to do, although the way the Andrew/Greg conflict (Andrew is just a dick to his stepdad for no apparent reason other than that he exists) resolves is also satisfying. I’ll add my wife’s criticism here, with which I agree, that this movie deserved better music; there are some good names in the soundtrack that indicate an attempt to get the right kind of indie artists into the film, but the songs are not that memorable.

Lola is a critical part of the story and the evolution of Andrew and Domino’s relationship, but to Raiff’s credit, she’s more than just a prop, and develops a relationship with Andrew that shows the audience more about each of them. Burghardt plays her like a whole person – she’s described it as portraying things she’s learned not to do as an autistic person. It’s the best kind of representation: A character with a disability is an integral part of the story, has normal interactions with other characters, building a real relationship with one of them, and deals with some of the problems that they might face in the real world – in this case, bullying by other kids. Lola is part of the fabric of the film, and her autism is not a plot point, but simply a characteristic.

If Raiff didn’t stick the landing here, Cha Cha Real Smooth would not have worked – it could have become too precious, or just unrealistic, with even small changes in how the Andrew/Domino relationship ends or where those two characters are in the coda that takes place six months later. But Raiff does get that part right, which helps mitigate some of the things that didn’t work in the middle of the film. It’s also frequently very funny, and Raiff has very good comedic timing that will probably carry him a long way. I don’t know that I need to see more of him playing this sort of character, but I enjoyed the two hours I spent with him. Your mileage may vary.

Cha Cha Real Smooth is streaming on Apple TV+.

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→ June 4, 2022
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Stick to baseball, 6/4/22.

No new articles from me this week at The Athletic, but that will change over the weekend after I see Kumar Rocker on Saturday night.

On my podcast, I spoke with Sports Illustrated’s Emma Baccellieri about the “sweeper” slider, Brett Phillips, the Mets, and being Italian-American. You can subscribe via iTunes, Spotify, Stitcher, amazon, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Over at Paste, I reviewed Three Sisters, a fantastic new roll-and-write game from the designers of Fleet: The Dice Game.

I do send out a free email newsletter about twice a month. My two books, Smart Baseball and The Inside Game, are both available in paperback, and you can buy them at your local independent book store or at Bookshop.org.

And now, the links…

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→ May 25, 2022
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On the James Bond films.

Last night, my wife and I finished a long-running project of ours: watching all 25 James Bond movies in order. (We didn’t watch the two non-canon Bond films, which weren’t produced by Eon.) Before I met her, I’d actually never seen a single Bond film, but she’d seen them all, mostly long ago, so we started this as a pandemic project and, with some breaks, finished last night.

Acknowledging that any opinion on the Bond film universe is likely to cause some controversy, I’ve got a few views that I don’t think will be that controversial:

1. The best Bond is Daniel Craig.

2. The best Bond film is the 2006 Casino Royale, the first one starring Craig.

I think I’d have a harder time choosing the best Doctor than the best Bond. (The best Companion, however, is Clara.) Craig is superb in the role, and gives the character actual depth that’s lacking from every previous person’s portrayal, aided by much better writing as well. Roger Moore had his moments but his Bond became more smarmy (and more obviously altered by cosmetic surgery) as his films went on. Timothy Dalton had no chemistry with the women in his films, and my wife has always called his Bond the ‘darkest’ of all. Pierce Brosnan looked the part but his Bond felt the most perfunctory, although on some level it’s hard to separate his performance from a couple of miserable scripts. I’ll give George Lazenby an incomplete, since he appeared in just one film and had the misfortunate of following the original Bond, which meant nobody was going to be happy with him.

The original was, of course, Sean Connery, who defined the role and thus colored our views of every actor who would later hold the Walther. Connery had the charm, and as a former footballer brought a level of athleticism that made the action scenes seem more credible, even when the writing and effects weren’t up to snuff. He made Bond a wit. But he also made Bond a cad rather than just a ladies’ man. You couldn’t watch his films without picking up the character’s disdain for the women he slept with, and in Goldfinger he rapes Pussy Galore. Is that on the script, the actor, or both? I choose the last option: It passes in the film because Connery made it so, and today it’s the low point in Connery’s tenure, one that also saw him slapping women, a practice Connery himself advocated in real life. The character’s enduring popularity is in large part his creation, but the passage of time has exposed his flaws.

The reboot of the series and character for Casino Royale marks the first time anyone seems to have looked at James Bond and thought, hey, what if we actually tried this time? The sixteen films before then all hewed closely to the formula – a preposterous villain has an improbable scheme to take over the world, Bond escapes a bunch of close scrapes in the process of fighting him (often on skis), he seduces one woman who is then killed by the bad guys, then he seduces another woman and they ride off into the sunset after he takes out the Big Foozle. You watched for the action, the one-liners, maybe for Q’s wonderful gadgets, but the plots were just the cheap glue that held the whole thing together. At their best, they were campy fun; at worst, empty calories. (The worst Bond film, in my view? The World Is Not Enough, which has a great theme song and goes straight downhill from there, with Denise Richards giving an absolute howler of a performance as a – wait for it – nuclear scientist. Really.) You were along for the ride and hoped the fights and chases were good and the plot wasn’t too absurd to get in the way of your entertainment. Often it was, as in Moonraker, which looks like a blatant attempt to cash in on the popularity of Star Wars, released two years earlier, by sending Bond into space.

With the Daniel Craig films, however, the plots started to matter, never more so than in Casino Royale, which rewrote his origin story and gave us a real explanation for much of his character, introduced Vesper Lynd as the best Bond girl character in the series, and gave us the best villain in “Le Chiffre,” played by Mads Mikkelsen. (Talk about looking the part.) It set up a story arc that would continue through all four of Craig’s subsequent films, and updated the template for a Bond movie. We still get the fights and the chases – no skis, but plenty of cars and other motorized vehicles on land, sea, and air – and several disposable Bond girls. The villains vary in ambition and absurdity, with things really bottoming out in Quantum of Solace. The stakes are consistently higher in these films, however; nobody is truly safe, so you can no longer just assume that it’ll all work out in the end.

All of these changes mean that Craig gets to inhabit a new skin, and James Bond suddenly has … feelings. I’m sure there are diehards who disliked the change, who think Bond should just be a manly man who cares nothing about the needs of others, who is happy just saving the world and bedding the girl, but that had become quite stale after sixteen films, even with changes of actors and improved special effects. Craig’s Bond has the dry wit, the panache, and the way with women, but he also clearly cares about people – about M, certainly, and Vesper, and later Madeline Swann. He has friends, of a sort, although the Craig films made far too little use of Jeffrey Wright as Felix Leiter, who often served as a partner-in-crime for Bond in the earlier films. The promotion of Eve Moneypenny to field agent from lovelorn secretary (in Skyfall) not only gives Bond a buddy cop, but shows Bond with a functional, platonic relationship with a woman (of color, in fact).

By the time we get to No Time to Die, the character has been fully realized as a three-dimensional person, a lothario but not a rake, an agent dedicated to the mission but with a sense of actual humanity. We even get a completely new subplot: Bond meets a gorgeous agent (Ana de Armas) and they … don’t. They win a firefight together, and she leaves, and that’s that. In Bond’s universe, this is unheard of. Even with a less interesting villain – you know he’s a bad guy, because he has bad skin and an unidentifiable accent – the film succeeds because the previous four films have built up a proper protagonist, and this script makes excellent use of him. The next Bond film, whenever it might come along, may reboot the series and character again, but I hope whatever they do, they learn from what worked in the Craig film. And count me among those who think Henry Golding would be great for the role.

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→ April 15, 2022
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Playground.

I have what appears to be a false memory of an American movie critic  Playground, Belgium’s submission for this past year’s Academy Award for Best International Film, was the best movie of 2021. It made the Oscars’ shortlist, but didn’t get to the final five, and after a very limited theatrical release here this winter it hit streaming (amazon • iTunes • Google) this Tuesday. It is a marvel of small cinema – it tells a simple story, with few characters and no gimmicks, in under 80 minutes, and it’s just devastating.

Playground follows two kids, Nora (Maya Vanderbeque), aged 7, and her brother Abel, about 10, and takes place entirely at their school – mostly in the schoolyard, which is a brutal place, and Abel even tells Nora that he’s going to beat up some of the new kids with the school bully, Antoine. Nora has a very hard time leaving her father on the first day of school, and ends up clinging to her brother, which causes Antoine and the other bullies to turn on Abel. When Nora sees this, she wants to tell her father, but Abel orders her not to, for fear it will make things worse – and, it turns out, it does.

First time writer/director Laura Wandel shot nearly all of Playground at the kids’ height, and in soft focus, so Nora in particular is always centered in the shot and the story. Nora’s anguish is the beating heart of the story; the adults who ostensibly run the school let her down at nearly every turn, and even when she believes she’s doing the right thing by protecting her brother, he turns on her as well, blaming her for his switch from bully to victim and for his growing isolation from the other kids. Wandel declines to shift the focus to the adults – when we see them in full, it’s because they have bent down to talk to the children on their level – because the failure of the teachers and administrators is not the point of the story. It’s simply assumed. The adults are often kept out of frame entirely, and sometimes their words are muffled, to further evoke the overwhelming disorientation of being a young child in a new environment where the rules are unclear and adults don’t always fulfill their obligations to you.

Vanderbeque gives the best performance by a child actor I’ve seen since Brooklynn Prince’s in 2017’s The Florida Project. Her wide-eyed look conveys fear and determination in turns, and her facial expressions reveal the inner torment Nora faces as she realizes that none of her actions have unequivocally positive consequences. When Nora’s choices lead not to Abel’s liberation from bullying, but to his ostracism and her own isolation, Vanderbeque’s features tighten up as the character holds back tears, and if you’re a parent, just watching her doing that might rip you apart. Nora is forced to make decisions she’s not equipped to make, which only deepens her torment, and after several turns of the screw we see her start to feel the effects of this pressure. She’s still just seven and a young-looking seven at that, so despite her role as the protagonist, eventually her youth and immaturity take over and she begins lashing out at classmates and her brother – more so after her own few friends start taunting her over her brother’s unpopularity.

At a taut 72 minutes, Playground can move through its story without ever letting its foot off the gas – it’s as tense as a thriller and never telegraphs its direction, which also underscores that feeling of dread that most children experience in such apparently hostile settings. The playground of the school constitutes so much of the kids’ experience that the film’s original title, Un monde, means “a world.” It’s a nasty, brutish place, and perhaps Wandel’s way of showing us a microcosm of what awaits Nora and Abel when they grow up. You’re just hoping they make it okay until the bell rings at the end of the last class.

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→ March 27, 2022
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Oscar picks, 2022 edition.

The Oscars are happening tonight, so once again, I’ve assembled a post with some loose predictions, my own picks for each award, and, most importantly, links to every one of these films I’ve reviewed. I’ve seen all of the Best Picture, Best Director, Best Screenplay, and Best Cinematography nominees, and all of the films in the four acting categories. I still have one or two films left in the Animated Feature, Documentary Feature, and International Feature categories, and didn’t see any of the short films this year, although I’ll seek out the winners afterwards.

To be completely clear, I have zero inside information to inform these predictions. I read the same stuff you do, and don’t claim to know anything more than the average moviegoer. This is all just for fun – but I do have certain films I’d like to see honored, because I think when good films win important awards, it encourages studios to finance more good films.

Best Picture

Belfast
CODA
Don’t Look Up
Drive My Car
Dune
King Richard
Licorice Pizza
Nightmare Alley
The Power of the Dog
West Side Story

What will win: Drive My Car

What should win: Drive My Car

What was snubbed: The Lost Daughter, Passing

So my real prediction is that The Power of the Dog doesn’t win – in essence, I’d bet the field instead. I know CODA is now the popular favorite, and it might win. It’s not that great a film, and the idea of a film about deaf people that centers the experience of a hearing person winning BP is not that great, Bob, but in a year without a clear front-runner, a fractured vote could give us a surprising result. I have argued with friends who care about this stuff for a few weeks that Drive My Car is at least undervalued by oddsmakers; the more international Academy electorate gives it a real chance, even though it’s probably no more than third most likely to win and maybe fourth. But I could also see it being first on a minority of ballots, and in a year where no single film runs away with it, it might sneak in there. I might be wishcasting, but I’d rather argue for a scenario that is unlikely but not improbable than just tell you something you already know.

I’d also like to point out that the two films I thought most deserved BP nods but didn’t get them were Netflix movies, and seriously, fuck you to whatever Netflix exec decided to put time and money into promoting Don’t Look Up for this award when they had two far superior and more deserving films right there. Passing didn’t get a single Oscar nod, and I put that squarely on Netflix’s shoulders.

Apropos of nothing, there is a small chance that CODA wins this and nothing else – it was only nominated for two other honors. No film has won Best Picture and no other Oscars since Mutiny on the Bounty in 1936.

Best Director

Paul Thomas Anderson, Licorice Pizza
Kenneth Branagh, Belfast
Jane Campion, The Power of the Dog
Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Drive My Car
Stephen Spielberg, West Side Story

Who will win: Campion

Who should win: Hamaguchi

Who was snubbed: Denis Villeneuve, Dune

Villeneve shouldn’t just have been nominated over Branagh; he should be taking home this Oscar. I don’t think it would be remotely close, and I say that as someone who thought Drive My Car was the best movie of 2021. I didn’t think West Side Story was anything special, but Spielberg’s direction was not among its flaws.

Best Actress

Jessica Chastain, The Eyes of Tammy Faye
Olivia Colman, The Lost Daughter
Penelope Cruz, Parallel Mothers
Nicole Kidman, Being the Ricardos
Kristen Stewart, Spencer

Who will win: Chastain

Who should win: Colman

Who was snubbed: Renate Reinsve, The Worst Person in the World

If nothing else, I am glad that awards discourse has coalesced around the idea that nominating actors for doing impersonations is at least not in the true spirit of these awards. Three of these nominees are portraying real people; four of the nominees for Best Actor are too, if you count King Macbeth, although in that case, they didn’t try to make Denzel Washington look like his real-life counterpart. In this category, Chastain and Kidman just aren’t very good – they’re imitating, but hardly acting, although in both cases the scripts are the main problem. I’d be fine with any of the other three winning. Reinsve’s performance absolutely sustained that movie, though, and she would have been my pick. Ben Zauzmer noted that this is the first time in the ten-nominee era that no film has gotten a Best Picture nomination and had its lead actress get a Best Actress nomination, and the tenth time in Oscar history. By the way, Cruz’s odds have been soaring in the last few days, and I’d be thrilled if she won, too.

Best Actor

Javier Bardem, Being the Ricardos
Benedict Cumberbatch, The Power of the Dog
Andrew Garfield, tick, tick…BOOM!
Will Smith, King Richard
Denzel Washington, The Tragedy of Macbeth

Who will win: Smith

Who should win: Smith

Who was snubbed: Simon Rex, Red Rocket

My hypothesis on Red Rocket is that because director/co-writer Sean Baker non-professional actors for the vast majority of roles in his movies, the professional actors who vote on the nominees for acting categories might be disinclined to vote for his movies or anyone associated with them. The Florida Project was my #1 movie of 2018 but only got one supporting nod for Willem Dafoe, who was already a highly acclaimed actor and played a small role in the film. Rex had acting experience before Red Rocket but was never in anything good, and nearly everyone else in the film is a non-professional.

Anyway, Smith is almost certainly going to win, but Cumberbatch was great, too, and wasn’t doing an impersonation, which Smith definitely was (especially in imitating Richard Williams’ manner of speech).

Best Supporting Actress

Jessie Buckley, The Lost Daughter
Ariana DeBose, West Side Story
Judi Dench, Belfast
Kirsten Dunst, The Power of the Dog
Aunjanue Ellis, King Richard

Who will win: DeBose

Who shold win: DeBose

Who was snubbed: Caitrona Balfe, Belfast; Ruth Negga, Passing

I’ve ranted about Balfe/Dench already, in the Belfast review. This category is considered by pretty much everyone to be the strongest lock of the night. I won’t even pretend to know any better.

Best Supporting Actor

Ciarán Hinds, Belfast
Troy Kotsur, CODA
Jesse Plemons, The Power of the Dog
J.K. Simmons, Being the Ricardos
Kodi Smit-McPhee, The Power of the Dog

Who will win: Kotsur

Who should win: Smit-McPhee*

Who was snubbed: Daniel Durant, CODA

I put an asterisk next to Smit-McPhee’s name because I think he gave the best performance of the year … but I am rooting for Kotsur here. He was great, and fun, and improvised a fair bit of his dialogue. I think having him win that award, and give his speech in American Sign Language for hundreds of thousands of people to see, will be powerful and important. He is the third actor with a physical disability to be nominated for an Oscar; the previous two were his CODA co-star Marlee Matlin, for Children of a Lesser God, and Harold Russell, for The Best Years of Our Lives.

Best Cinematography

Dune
Nightmare Alley
The Power of the Dog
The Tragedy of Macbeth
West Side Story

What will win: Dune

What should win: Dune

What was snubbed: Drive My Car

I could see a case for West Side Story here, but not one to beat Dune, which was just breathtaking in almost every way.

Best International Feature Film

Drive My Car (Japan)
Flee (Denmark)
The Hand of God (Italy)
Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom (Bhutan)
The Worst Person in the World (Norway)

I still haven’t seen Lunana, but I assume Drive My Car is winning this and have no objection. I’ve seen a few films from the shortlist that didn’t make the final cut, including Hive and A Hero, but wouldn’t argue for either’s inclusion.

Best Original Screenplay

Belfast
Don’t Look Up
King Richard
Licorice Pizza
The Worst Person in the World

What will win: Belfast

What should win: Licorice Pizza

What was snubbed: Parallel Mothers

My prediction is this is where the voters give one to Branagh, now that it seems to be an also-ran in every other category where it’s nominated – although a shutout is on the table. I know there’s some popular sentiment for The Worst Person in the World, but I can’t get past the way it reduces Julie’s story to whether or not she wants kids.

Best Adapted Screenplay

CODA
Drive My Car
Dune
The Lost Daughter
The Power of the Dog

What will win: The Lost Daughter

What should win: Drive My Car

What was snubbed: The Dig

A hunch here that the Academy will honor Maggie Gyllenhaal here after snubbing her for Director and snubbing the film for Best Picture. If it doesn’t win, then this one probably goes to CODA regardless of the Best Picture voting. I never wrote up The Dig, a lovely, small movie starring Carrie Mulligan and Ralph Fiennes, available on Netflix. We liked it quite a bit, but Netflix didn’t do anything to promote it, and the plot – a young English widow hires a local archeologist to excavate the ancient burial mounds on her property – isn’t exactly white-knuckles stuff, although it is based on a true story.

Best Documentary Feature

Ascension
Attica
Flee
Summer of Soul
Writing with Fire

What will win: Summer of Soul

What should win: Summer of Soul

I still haven’t seen Ascension or Writing with Fire, but I loved Summer of Soul and it seems to be a lock to win. Flee made history by getting nominations in this category, Best International Feature Film, and Best Animated Feature Film (which Encanto seems like a dead lock to win), but will almost certainly go 0 for 3. I don’t have a real snub here, but if you have Amazon Prime, My Name Is Pauli Murray is a very straightforward documentary about an extremely important civil rights lawyer who also struggled with her gender identity and sexual orientation in a time when the topics were completely taboo.

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→ March 22, 2022
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Don’t Look Up.

If you enjoyed Vice for its sledgehammer-to-the-forehead approach to its subject matter, Don’t Look Up, the latest film from director Adam McKay and his co-writer David Sirota, might be right up your alley. It is as unsubtle and unfunny as any soi-disant satire can get, lacking both the humor and the power of the genre in its rush just to tell you how smart it is, and in the process, it wastes an epic cast that includes five Academy Award winners.

The premise of Don’t Look Up isn’t actually that bad: Two astronomers (Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence) discover that a comet 6 kilometers wide is on course to make a direct impact with earth, just off the coast of Chile, an extinction-level event that will wipe out all of humanity. They go to the feds, and end up talking to the President (Meryl Streep), who doesn’t take them seriously until she needs to distract everyone from a scandal. But when the CEO of an Apple-like tech company called BASH (Mark Rylance) who is also a major donor to the President points out that the comet holds over $100 trillion in rare metals critical to the technology industry, the plan to destroy the comet shifts to a plan to try to break it apart and mine it, much to the chagrin of the science community that believes destroying the comet is the planet’s only hope. (Cate Blanchett is the fifth Oscar winner in the movie, playing a vapid morning show host as a sort of Megyn Kelly clone.)

There is one funny joke in all of Don’t Look Up, and it has to do with snacks. Nothing in the actual plot, which is so thinly veiled a metaphor for climate change that it might as well be covered with Saran wrap, is handled in a humorous way. This isn’t actual satire. You don’t just move the chairs around and claim you refurnished the house. The writers here just changed a few details and then made everyone a genius or a moron, with nothing in between. The closest thing this film has to a real character is DiCaprio’s Dr. Mindy, who gets to evolve after his appearance on Blanchett’s morning show results in him becoming a heartthrob, both to viewers and to Blanchett’s character, with whom he cheats on his wife (Melanie Lynskey), another thinly-veiled commentary, this one on the corrupting power of fame and the conflict between telling people the truth and telling them what they want to hear. Even that seems to give this script more credit than it deserves, and it takes well over two hours to get to its eventual, obvious ending.

What’s most appalling is how McKay manages to get such awful work from otherwise capable, acclaimed actors. Rylance appears to have botoxed his upper cheeks into oblivion and affects a fey, high-pitched voice, while his character also has the social skills of a sea cucumber. Jonah Hill, playing Donald Trump Jr. by another name (the President’s son and also her chief of staff), is in full douchebro mode, and serves no purpose whatsoever except as a way to mock his real-life counterpart as an insipid misogynist. Blanchett’s co-host, played by Tyler Perry, is every bland TV personality who laughs too much and makes tasteless jokes about ex-wives.

And perhaps worst of all is Meryl Streep, who mailed this one in and had it returned for insufficient postage. She’s supposed to be as corrupt as Trump, but manages to make the character less interesting, somehow. She’s venal in the most boring way, and while, yes, there’s a comeuppance coming that you will see an hour away, it’s not even that satisfying because the character is such a cipher, and Streep, who has certainly had fun playing offbeat or even unlikeable characters before, seems disinterested.

As for the film’s so-called point, whether it’s just about climate change or a broader argument about humans’ inherent tendency to avoid short-term pain even for long-term gain, this isn’t going to convince anyone of anything. It’s preaching to – or just yelling at – the choir, while talking down to anyone else who might be willing to hear an argument on the matter. The writers would rather tell you how smart they are and take your compliments than do anything that might make a difference. When the protagonist also turns into a rhinoceros, you’ve taken the farce too far.

—

This is easily the worst film nominated for Best Picture this year, of which I have now seen all ten. My personal top ten for 2021, which could still change a little depending on some movies I haven’t seen and a few that aren’t available yet, looks like this:

1. Drive My Car
2. Dune
3. The Lost Daughter
4. Licorice Pizza
5. Parallel Mothers
6. Summer of Soul
7. The Power of the Dog
8. Passing
9. Red Rocket
10. C’mon C’mon

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