film reviews, interviews, features | BRWC

Author: Matt Conway

  • On the Count of Three: Review

    On the Count of Three: Review

    WARNING: This review and film discuss suicide and mental health issues. 

    Depression can conjure an overwhelming cloud of dread upon its inhabitants. My personal struggles with depression and anxiety have often felt debilitating, with every misstep and cruel twist of fate reinforcing a feeling of malaise that often seems inescapable. While mental health awareness gains recognition in art and public consciousness today, many sources still misunderstand its complexities. 

    Comedian turned writer/director Jerrod Carmichael tackles mental health head-on in his debut feature, On the Count of Three. The film, which follows two friends who decide to indulge in one last day before ending it all, is one of the final offshoots of the 2021 Sundance Film Festival. I was lucky enough to watch the film twice during its festival run. Despite my intentions to review the film last January, each attempt at encapsulating the film’s impacts seemed to slip my grasp with each keystroke. 

    An additional viewing and a year and a half of introspection later, On the Count of Three still shakes me to my core. Carmichael’s concept is undoubtedly bleak and challenging in a world where suicide and mental health concerns are exploding at an incendiary rate. Suicide is also a subject that several other cinematic offerings fumble in poor taste, whether by glorifying its lingering ramifications (Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why) or utilizing self-inflicted killings as a point of maudlin manipulation (Dear Evan Hansen). 

    Thankfully, Carmichael approaches the volatile topic with insight and proper care. From the onset, the overbearing dread facing our depressed protagonist Val and his manically bipolar best friend Kevin is deeply-felt in every frame of their wayward journey. Both broken souls forge a friendship melded in the fiery inferno of abuse and hopelessness. It’s a deeply lived-in rapport, with Val and Kevin acting as supportive pillars for each other in a world that’s constantly tearing them down. 

    While they’ve reached a state of internal burnout, that doesn’t mean their final escapades are entirely joyless affairs. It would be easy for On the Count of Three to feel overwhelmingly bleak. However, Carmichael exhibits a skilled touch in infusing a light of hope at the end of the tunnel. Seeing Val and Kevin reminiscing through their old stomping grounds or BMXing around the familiar dirt path reflects the true comfort they find each other. The sparse moments of warm sentimentality conjure just how much impact a little positive reinforcement can have. 

    Carmichael also incorporates darkly comedic infusions into On the Count of Three’s premise – a decision that could be incredibly combustible in the wrong hands. Instead, Carmichael marries the dissident tonalities in a savvy manner. Creative wrinkles like the usage of Papa Roach’s “Last Resort” and even the obscure fillet fish from bygone McDonald’s commercials never feel senseless – often expressing the film’s emotional conditions with a deft perspective and ironic bite. The comedian’s directorial debut showcases remarkable poise, ranging from bits of visceral rage to poetic melancholy in a way few could effectively balance. 

    Val and Kevin’s camaraderie wouldn’t work the same without skilled performers. Lugging around in an emotionally withdrawn state, Carmichael conveys Val’s insular struggles and lingering detachment through his effectively subdued cadence. In stark contrast, Christopher Abbott aggressively grabs viewers’ attention as Kevin. Abbott continues displaying raw dedication and emotionality as a performer, encapsulating Kevin’s mania while still honing the character in a candid place with compelling nuances. 

    The duo’s opposing styles serve as a fitting canvas for the different spectrums of mental health struggles, whether the temporary hold of depressive forces or the life-long battle with mental health issues. Each facet of the creative process explores On the Count of Three‘s dichotomy with rare honesty and empathy onscreen. I found myself shaken at several revelations throughout the narrative, but those disturbing blimps never express false platitudes or sensationalize genuine struggles. 

    On the Count of Three does boast some imperfections. The airtight 86-minute runtime can rob the experience of some of its intriguing wrinkles, particularly with a third act that rushes to a finale that’s a bit too clean and simplistic considering what proceeds it. Nevertheless, Carmichael and company still deserve ample praise for what Count of Three achieves.

    Equally provocative and profound, On the Count of Three tackles an often ignored conversation with the gravity it deserves. I can’t say I’m surprised the film is quietly coming out of release purgatory, but I hope it eventually finds an agreeable audience. 

    On the Count of Three is now playing in select theaters and on VOD services. 

    Mental health resources: https://www.mentalhealthfirstaid.org/mental-health-resources/

  • The Valet: The BRWC Review

    The Valet: The BRWC Review

    The Valet Synopsis: A movie star (Samara Weaving) enlists a parking valet (Eugenio Derbez) at a Beverly Hills restaurant to pose as her lover to cover for her relationship with a married man. A remake of a 2006 French film of the same name.

    In an era where comedic stars are a dying breed, Eugenio Derbez serves as one of the few stars cultivating a loyal audience. Derbez transformed his stature in the Mexico film scene into remarkable domestic success after his 2013 indie breakout Instructions Not Included. His starring efforts, like Overboard and How to Be a Latin Lover, represent the type of breezy, feel-good studio comedies often ignored in our cinematic landscape. 

    Derbez’s affable charisma now graces streaming screens with The Valet. As a down-on-his-luck valet thrust into a tabloid-pleasing relationship with a Hollywood starlet, Derbez tries his best to prop up an inoffensive yet ineffective detour through comedic contrivances. 

    Audiences would be hardpressed to write off Derbez’s latest completely. Similar to his previous offerings, Derbez and frequent collaborator/screenwriter Rob Greenberg infuse a slew of modern insights into the tried and true genre formula.

    The Valet often finds humorous avenues for riffing on gentrification, the mistreatment of working-class Americans, and ever-apparent racial prejudices while still maintaining a postive comedic energy. When the bright comedic sparks connect, the film displays welcomed comedic bite for the agreeable genre formula. Derbez and co-star Samara Weaving also share a friendly rapport as an unlikely pair faking their way through Hollywood paparazzi. 

    Unfortunately, the moments of sharp interplay only work to highlight the script’s notable shortcomings. Greenberg and co-writer Bob Fisher suffocate their socially-conscious nucleus inside a comedy operating on autopilot. Several dead-on-arrival running gags and simplistic pratfalls borrow tired tropes without proper reinvention. The story feels similarly listless, often jockeying between melodramatic plot devices and obvious narrative twists that only reinforce the foreboding familiarity. 

    I wish the creative team allowed The Valet more road to stretch its wings. Director Richard Wong’s unimaginative and visually flat craftsmanship only reinforces the material’s shortcomings – rarely finding opportunities to engage with the comedic premise’s meaningful core. The end product is rarely a torturous experience, but it’s a bummer to see potential squandered by a lack of ambition and creativity. 

    The Valet feels ironically tailor-made for its unceremonious streaming release. Glimpses of entertainment value can’t overcome an experience destined to fade from viewers’ memory banks. 

    The Valet is now playing on Hulu. 

  • Men: The BRWC Review

    Men: The BRWC Review

    A voyage to the English countryside should harbor some much-needed solace for Haper. Instead, the widowed woman finds herself in a twisted nightmare of masculine gratification in writer/director Alex Garland’s latest Men. 

    Three features into his directorial career (four if you count Dredd, which he reportedly guided in an uncredited role), Garland continues displaying his distinctly withdrawn and meditative sensibility onscreen. It’s an approach that worked wonders with Ex Machina and Annihilation – two projects that intelligently wired isolation and despair into traditional science fiction framework. I was enraptured by both projects, with each displaying the cerebral undertones that modern sci-fi desperately lacks. 

    By comparison, Men confronts viewers in a more abrasive light. The straightforward title serves as a fitting representation of Garland’s streamlined thematic approach. Harper’s journey finds the abused widow surrounded by the overbearing presence she’s trying to escape. In place of her abusive deceased husband, a slew of bizarre caricatures with an oddly familiar face (each played by Rory Kinnear) confront Harper with the responsibility she “should” feel regarding his passing. 

    You can probably guess where the experience goes from here. Men paints itself as a reflection of the emotional burdens and objectification men place on their female counterparts. It’s clearly a timely concept, but Garland’s latest struggles in digging beneath the surface. 

    Every religious allegory and overwritten line lays the idealism on thick as Garland presents his concept without a well-rounded approach. His attempts at self-important commentary resonate with didact results, ultimately reading like a thesis project that lacks core character and plotting elements. I’d argue that having a female co-writer would have helped define Harper as more than a byproduct of male turmoil. 

    While Garland struggles on a thematic level, I still found myself engaged by his visceral sensibilities. Men drips with atmosphere and haunting tensions as Harper descends down a rabbit hole of deranged masculine behaviors. Garland’s dynamic color pallet, precise framing, and engaging surrealism represent Men’s throughline far better than what’s on the page. The film works best when its confrontational energy grounds itself in genre techniques, including a third act drenched in blood-soaked imagery.

    Men’s tight-knit cast also helps ease some of the narrative dissonances. Jessie Buckley continues her ascension toward Hollywood superstardom for a reason. The actress embodies Harper’s frustrations and pains sincerely in an effort that helps elevate the material around her. Stalwart character actor Rory Kinnear has a blast sinking his teeth into the various personas that haunt Harper’s vacation. While the enigmas present their own eccentricities, Kinnear grounds each in the casual disdain and disconnect between the two parties. 

    Men lacks the refinement and sophistication of Garland’s previous work, but the experience still connects as an alluring horror exercise. 

    Men is now playing in theaters. 

  • Chip n’ Dale: Rescue Rangers – The BRWC Review

    Chip n’ Dale: Rescue Rangers – The BRWC Review

    Chip n’ Dale: Rescue Rangers Synopsis: Thirty years after their popular television show ended, chipmunks Chip and Dale live very different lives. When a cast member from the original series mysteriously disappears, the pair must reunite to save their friend.

    Chip n’ Dale exists as a minor cog in Disney’s expansive library. Even The House of Mouse seems well aware of the characters’ niche cultural standing, leaving the comedic duo on the sidelines over the past two decades as other characters receive modern interpretations. 

    Most of these Disney reboots sink under their oppressively flavorless design. Shockingly enough, leave it to Chip n’ Dale: Rescue Rangers to truly reinvent the studio’s creative wheelhouse. Wearing the imprint of self-referential comedies like Who Framed Roger Rabbit on its sleeve, Rescue Rangers humorously wrestles with its very own existence in the studio’s most inspired reboot to date. 

    Originally pitched as a 3D revamp in the vein of Alvin in the Chipmunks, Rescue Rangers showcases a rare level of industry intellect for the family film genre. Director Akiva Schaffer and writing duo Dan Gregor and Doug Mand place the superficial standards of the genre under a harsh microscope, humorously mocking its family-friendly peers and even the film’s previously-planned interpretation. Gags poking fun at storied pop culture icons and industry practices possess surprising bite on Gregor and Mand’s behalf. The duo soundly blends their inside-Hollywood perspective with enough light-hearted pratfalls to please kids and adults alike. 

    I appreciate that Disney is finally showcasing a little self-awareness in criticizing the factory-like structure of popularized reboots – which often distorts their original material to an unrecognizable and cynically-manufactured state. The bargain-bin “Aslyumn” scene, the over-prevalence of crossover films, and even the creepy Robert Zemekis animation era also receive proper comedic skewering through several well-articulated barbs.

    At the same time, Rescue Rangers works effectively as an agreeable family film. Schaffer skillfully traverses through familiar plotting machinations with enough spirited winks at the camera to quiet the lingering familiarity. It also helps that John Mulaney and Andy Samberg infuse droves of charisma into their interpretations of Chip n’ Dale. The two comedic stalwarts showcase a natural comedic rapport, sharing an affectionate onscreen energy as two former stars rekindling their forgotten friendship. 

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F4Z0GHWHe60

    Audiences are in for a genuine surprise with how reflectively Rescue Rangers confronts the noisy emptiness of studio-manufactured family films. That said, it feels like the concept deserves even more exploration than what’s onscreen. Even with my praise of Disney, it feels like the studio takes more pleasure in pouring dirt on failed experiments rather than truly reckoning with their complex industry practices (a lot of the harshest gags gear towards Disney’s notable rivals). 

    A more balanced critique could have made Rescue Rangers an all-time great, but the final product still imbues much-needed vitality into its critique of the well-worn reboot formula. 

    Chip n’ Dale: Rescue Rangers debuts on Disney+ on May 20. 

  • Firestarter: The BRWC Review

    Firestarter: The BRWC Review

    Firestarter Synopsis: A couple desperately tries to hide their daughter, Charlie (Ryan Kiera Armstrong), from a shadowy federal agency that wants to harness her unprecedented gift for turning fire into a weapon of mass destruction. Her father taught her how to defuse her power, but as Charlie turns 11, the fire becomes harder and harder to control. When a mysterious operative finally finds the family, he tries to seize Charlie once and for all — but she has other plans. Based on a Stephen King novel.

    A superpowered family tries to protect their daughter’s untapped potential in Firestarter. As a remake of the so-so 1984 original, Firestarter represents another Blumhouse Productions attempt at reigniting the audience’s fervor for a retro retread. Their results, so far, showcase a scattershot mixed bag, with every inspired redux (The Invisible Man and Halloween) matched by an uninspired retread (The Craft: Legacy and Fantasy Island). 

    I credit director Keith Thomas for shaping his Firestarter as a sincere homage to the hard-edged supernatural horror features of the 80s. Unfortunately, Thomas’ good intentions conjure a lukewarm and artistically underwhelming revamp. 

    While early reviews have savaged the film, I found some promise in what Firestarter achieves. Viewing our central superpowered family in a real-world setting reflects a welcomed change of pace for the genre. Andy and Vicky McGee aspire for Charlie to live a normal life, but her growth into adolescents unleashes the full-scale magnitude of her dangerous powers. At their best, Thomas and Screenwriter Scott Teems reckon with adolescent struggles and familial responsibilities through the clever prism of our characters’ abnormal abilities. 

    Thomas also displays an earnest embrace of the 80’s old-school aesthetics. Paired with another dynamic synth score from John Carpenter, Firestarter sparks signs of life when Thomas loosens up behind the camera – particularly in the third act. The low-budget assets transform into a strength under his control, with a medley of gnarly practical effects and imaginative kills intensifying the horror atmosphere. 

    While Thomas displays flourishes of inspired craftsmanship, too much of Firestarter feels stuck in a beige middle ground. Much of the film’s visual profile descends into the dredges of poorly-lit and drab imagery, often not taking advantage of the premise’s high-concept allure. There are bursts where Thomas is deeply-felt behind the camera, but the project mostly reads as a director-for-hire effort that lacks a singular presence. 

    The visionless end product constrains Firestarter’s narrative ambitions the most. Both Firestarters present a thoughtful nucleus in their focus on adolescence and family ties. However, neither film seems to know what they want to say with the concepts. Teems’ adaptation of King’s source material strips the work of most of its complexion, leaving little more than a husk of what’s there on the page. The characters, while competently performed, serve as nothing more than generic amalgams of other 80s stereotypes. It’s frankly a bummer seeing a promising premise with darker contrasts to our super-hero-dominate climate reduced to mediocrity. 

    As far as remakes go, Firestarter is a nonstarter. Remakes’ commonplace presence in Hollywood should push creatives to reinvent their source material, not idly try to pay homage to their predecessors. 

    Firestarter is now playing in theaters and on Peacock.