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  • Wendy: Review

    Wendy: Review

    This drama film follows Wendy (Devin France) and her two brothers Douglas (Gage Naquin) and James (Gavin Naquin). The trio have grown up in a rural town living above the diner where their mother Angie Darling (Shay Walker) works, which is located next to a railroad. The children spend their time watching the trains roll by their window day by day. As time passes, the kids desire to have adventures and resist the idea of growing up. One night, Wendy wakes up as a train passes by her window. She notices a boy riding on top of the train. Eventually, Wendy and her brothers decide to run away and get on the train. The boy introduces himself as Peter (Yashua Mack). Peter eventually takes the siblings to a mysterious island populated with more runaways. On this island, the kids never grow up and can do as they please as long as they believe in the “Mother” of the island. At first it seems like an idyllic fantasy, but it soon becomes apparent that the island and those who inhabit it are not entirely what they appear to be. Soon the kids are forced to face some harsh truths about life and growing up.

    Director/co-writer Benh Zeitlin along with co-writer Eliza Zeitlin offer up a bold re-imagining of the Peter Pan mythos. While this film features homages to the established Peter Pan canon, such as the concept of never growing old and adversarial pirates, this film also follows its own path. Laced within this story are deep meditations on why kids feel the need to indulge in fantasy, the calling many feel to see the world beyond where they live and grow up, and how crucial it is to balance imagination, belief, and fantasy, with the true, tactile, and honest experiences of life. This emphasis on character and complex ideas not only offers a unique and fresh experience for viewers familiar with the Pan legend, but also allows this film to move away from some of the more problematic aspects of other Pan stories.

    While the themes are explored in very interesting ways, there are large durations of the film that feature the characters roaming around in the various environments without much plot or dialogue occuring. These poetic stretches sometimes create the feeling that we are watching someone recount a dream. While that may be a deliberate choice by the filmmakers, as it fits in with the themes of the story, it has the effect of pulling the audience out of the narrative experience, which some may find jolting.

    With regards to other technical aspects of the film, the cinematography by Sturla Brandth Grøvlen is a particular standout. Grøvlen keeps the camera close to the performers and often fills the frame with a lot of light and grain, which aids in creating the fantastical and somewhat nostalgic feel of the film. In addition, this photography highlights the beauty of the many landscapes featured. The close, intimate camera also helps heighten the tension during the more dramatic sections of the film. Similarly, the score by Dan Romer and Benh Zeitlin is at different times wistful, romantic, tense, and melancholic, perfectly accompanying the layered emotional aspects of the film. The performances by all the young actors are also very strong, particularly France and Mack, both of whom imbue their characters with a strong sense of maturity and intention, despite their age and the fantastical story.

    Wendy is a film that boldly pursues its own vision for a Peter Pan story. Featuring thoughtful meditations on imagination, fantasy, belief, growing up, as well as beautiful cinematography and music pieces, fans of innovative dramas should seek this film out. Though some may find the surrealist aspects of the film distracting from the larger story.

  • Stillwater: The BRWC Review

    Stillwater: The BRWC Review

    Stillwater Synopsis: Bill Baker (Matt Damon), an American oil-rig roughneck from Oklahoma, travels to Marseille to visit his estranged daughter, Allison (Abigail Breslin), who is in prison for a murder she claims she did not commit. Confronted with language barriers, cultural differences, and a complicated legal system, Bill builds a new life for himself in France as he makes it his personal mission to exonerate his daughter.

    Oscar-winning writer/director Tom McCarthy has never been afraid to take chances. Only a genuine risk tasker could release a heavyweight Oscar player like Spotlight the same year as a bizarre family dramedy like The Cobbler (talk about two extremes). Clearly, not every project of his connects, but his singular creativity and sincerity make McCarthy a bold voice to watch in the industry.

    McCarthy’s latest Stillwater maintains a similar brazen streak. Meshing a “loosely” true story with a unique blend of genre inspirations, McCarthy strives for ambitious marks atypical of standard mainstream releases. The results, while wholly uneven, conjures a thoughtful twist on familiar Hollywood mechanics.

    Marketers want audiences to think of Stillwater as a white-knuckle thriller, but that’s assessment doesn’t do the material justice. McCarthy’s narrative is a deeply humanistic one, with Bill’s relentless chase for justice consistently contextualized by nuanced developments. I love the way McCarthy leans into a vast pool of sociopolitical factors. Bill’s gruff and aggressively Americanized persona constantly clashes with France’s even-tempered populous, while the character’s backward class and racial perspectives only lead him down personal deadends. As Bill grows a comfort level in France with Virgine and her daughter Maya, he begins to view the world outside of his self-centered viewpoint.

    Where most deal with black and white truths, McCarthy’s film lives in an amoral grey area. The filmmaker isn’t afraid to handle Bill and his other characters with brutal honesty, crafting a succinct character study that features genuine developments instead of Hollywood manipulation (Bill and Allison are never painted as heroes for their respective actions). I appreciate his attention for slight character beats over-sensationalized thrills. It’s the type of mainstream film that doesn’t get made anymore, with McCarthy building his patient 139-minute runtime to create a drama simmering with illuminating joys and sobering pains.

    Stillwater’s varied complexions create a great canvas for the talented cast. Stomping through France with his burly presence and matter-of-fact folksiness, Matt Damon is nearly unrecognizable as Bill. It’s the type of broadly drawn character that could easily drift into caricature territory, but the actor imbues potent sincerity and regrets into his broken-down persona. Damon’s decision to build Bill through subtle choices rather than grand dramatic notes creates a protagonist fitting of McCarthy’s slow-burn narrative. Camille Cottin also shines as Virgine, developing a naturalistic rapport with Damon that sparkles in its own subdued frequency, while Abigail Breslin injects urgency into her few frames as the imprisoned Allison.

    Stillwater develops ample goodwill during its first two acts, only to dash a good amount of it away with a bizarre finale. Whether it’s a byproduct of studio meddling or unsuccessful risks, McCarthy’s film dances towards the thriller sensibility that most of the narrative happily subverts. The big plot turns are certainly shocking, but they are never handled with the dramatic weight present during a majority of the runtime (there’s barely even a conversation addressing some of the questionable character decisions). It leaves a promising film feeling overbaked and oddly undefined considering its stark strengths.

    I’m not really sure how audiences will react to Stillwater. It’s too meandering to please standard crowds, while the third act turn will likely divide fans of the patient build-up. Personally, I’ll always prefer over-ambitious messes to formulaic studio filmmaking. Even with frustrating inconsistencies, Stillwater’s moving empathetic streak and well-textured characters create a story worth losing yourself in.

    Stillwater is now playing in theaters nationwide.

  • Charming The Hearts Of Men: Review

    Charming The Hearts Of Men: Review

    Charming The Hearts Of Men: Review – To paraphrase Jane Austen: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman without possession of good fortune, must be in need of a husband for means of support. 

    There are clear parallels here to Austen’s frequent premise of a woman (in this case Grace Gordon, played by Anna Friel) having to marry into wealth for lack of her own financial security. Before the legislation of equal gender rights, women’s prospects and opportunities have always been limited. This is true both of their status in society and, in this particular instance, the workforce. 

    Directed, written and produced by S.E. DeRose, Charming the Hearts of Men is witty, lighthearted and set firmly in the mould of romantic comedy drama. This soothingly upbeat tone might, therefore, be a little at odds with the rest of the story’s harder hitting comments of civil rights, not just of gender but also, as a parallel theme race. 

    Though not played strictly for laughs, the levity is such that the film, thankfully, does not become preachy, although it does also lack some edge which would have been nice to see as a contrast. 

    Kelsey Grammer has gravitas as The Congressman, also the most eligible bachelor on whom Grace sets her sights. Cast to type he exudes the same verbose pomposity and bumbling self satisfaction he brought to his famed television character Frasier. It’s a role he slips into easily and is a pleasure to watch. 

    Friel carries the film well enough, with ample support from the rest of the cast, American small town caricatures from the 1960’s, with attitudes to match. Sean Astin brings depth and a refreshing humanity to his character, George, a kindly shopkeeper who shows sympathy towards Grace. 

    The attention to period detail is impressive and the production certainly looks the part. The costumes, cars, pastel shades and colours lend themselves to the steamy Southern location. It’s smoothly shot, with a warmth which captures the heat and politically charged atmosphere, but the pace is flat, it stays too much on an even keel, leaving little emotional or narrative dynamic which is needed to give more tension to the drama. 

    As an important moment in history this is definitely a story which deserves telling. It’s told in a pleasant enough way but is let down by its slowness momentum and inconsistency of tone. 

  • Bad Luck Banging: Review

    Bad Luck Banging: Review

    There are a few warnings I should get out of the way before reviewing Bad Luck Banging or Loony Porn.  

    1.  There are several very graphic sex scenes which, if you are prudish about those sorts of things, will definitely make you uncomfortable.  But, if you are truly prudish, you would not be watching a film with “Banging” and “Porn” in the title.  Moving on.

    2.   For those who like their films, or their art for that matter, tidily organized into highbrow and lowbrow categories so as to make appropriate choices, Bad Luck will throw off your taxonomy.  

    3.  If you are into minimalist storytelling, do not bother with Bad Luck; it is maximalist to the nth degree.  

    Having done my due diligence, let me get right to my assessment of Bad Luck.  In one word:  Wow!  Having seen and reviewed many films—quite a few of them very good films—I am rarely this blown away.  This is film at its boldest, its brashest, its most avant-garde.  It is art at its most erudite in terms of social commentary and its most absurd in terms of its analysis of the human condition.  Films like Bad Luck push the medium forward, open possibilities, they remind you that there are still directors out there with a truly distinct voice.  Romanian director Radu Jude (I Do Not Care If We Go Down in History as Barbarians) reminds one of Pasolini or von Trier at their most transgressive while diving into an even deeper dark humor hole than those two ever dared plunged into.    

    Bad Luck is divided into chapters.  The first chapter puts us in the middle of a local scandal involving Emi (Katia Pascariu), a secondary school history teacher, who has a private sex video posted on public porn sites.  The video spreads and is watched by her school superiors, colleagues, parents, and students.  A parent-teacher conference—that plays out in the third chapter as more of a witch trial than anything—will decide Emi’s professional fate.  In chapter one we see Emi walking through Bucharest—shot in cinema verité style–running errands before her parent-teacher meeting, dealing with her society’s deteriorating sense of decency, its crassness, and the alarming consumerism that has become the status quo of most cities in advanced late capitalist societies.  Jude is holding up a mirror to the ugliness in his society, a mirror that reflects a Medusa so frightening that it turns others into apathetic stones incapable of striving for a different world.  Emi tries to maintain her dignity in the midst of such social decay while her private life has been exposed while her job hangs in the balance while dealing with COVID-19 social distancing and masks—it is stress layered upon stress layered upon stress.  

    Chapter one would be more than enough story content for any film, but for Jude it is mere story exposition.  Chapter two blows out of the water any expectations one may have had for the rest of the film.  Chapter two unleashes a montage of historical footage, clever cultural critique, and mentions of historical atrocities and hypocrisies aimed at societies offended by sex videos but not by their blood-stained histories—the United States comes to mind.  There are even more shots fired at consumerism—we are shown a drawing of the French Revolution and then shown a box of doughnuts named after the historical event.  Each chapter is shot in a different style and has its own distinct narrative flow.  Each chapter could be a film onto its own.  The final chapter even offers the viewer three different endings.  It is as if Jude is showing off his skill, his masterly flourishes, his bravura as a director.  When you are this good a filmmaker, you should be allowed to show off.  In Jude’s case, the audience is all the more rewarded by such smugness.       

    Bad Luck deservedly won the Golden Bear for best film at the 2021 Berlin International Film Festival.  A film packing so many ideas demands repeated viewings.  One can spend hours discussing Jude’s camera pans and how they come to rest on billboards, graffiti murals, advertisements, a book on Jesus, a flower emerging out of a crack on the concrete, naked statues on a building—this last one can spur a side conversation on the contradictions involving nudity, art, and porn.  There are commentaries on individuals parking on sidewalks and the breakdown of social norms.  As if that were not enough, Jude comments on the treatment of Roma people and COVID-19.  And oh, wait, there is even an amazing discussion on the role of memorization in pedagogy—it sounds like a dry topic for a film, but believe me, it is not!  Is Bad Luck a film for a select few?  Yes, it is.  I urge those select few to seek it out.  Filmmaking like this is rare.    

  • Jungle Cruise: The BRWC Review

    Jungle Cruise: The BRWC Review

    Jungle Cruise Synopsis: Dr. Lily Houghton (Emily Blunt) enlists the aid of wisecracking skipper Frank Wolff (Dwayne Johnson) to take her down the Amazon in his ramshackle boat. Together, they search for an ancient tree that holds the power to heal — a discovery that will change the future of medicine.

    Most business decisions have swayed in Disney’s favor (owning Marvel and Star Wars gives the studio unprecedented power), but the famed House of Mouse is still searching for their voice in live-action films. A plethora of uninspired remakes (Dumbo and Beauty and the Beast) and unsuccessful risks (John Carter and A Wrinkle in Time) have defined Disney’s so-so live-action track record of late, with studio executives still searching for their next Pirates of the Caribbean-type franchise starter.

    Following a similar “based on a theme park ride” conception, Disney’s latest swashbuckling adventure, Jungle Cruise, seems like a step in the right direction. With two megastars and a refreshing old-school premise in tow, director Jaume Collet-Serra presents a promising change-up from modern blockbuster tendencies – only to fall for every tired standard in the book. It saddens me to report it, but Jungle Cruise’s Disneyfied sense of adventure never truly ignites.

    When Jungle Cruise shows signs of life, the film whisks audiences back to the breezy fun synonymous with blockbusters of yesteryear. Collet-Serra’s genre pedigree makes him an apt fit for the material’s spirited energy. He imbues swift movements into the roaring setpieces, infusing enough visceral spark to compensate for these frames’ generic conception. The film also bolsters several scene-stealers in its supporting cast. Jesse Plemmons hits deliciously wicked notes as the mustache-twirling villain, while Paul Giamatti and Jack Whitehall deliver as much-needed comedic foils. These actors are self-aware about the material’s campy shortcomings, cleverly leaning into its goofiness to heighten the melodrama.

    Surprisingly enough, it’s Jungle Cruise’s charismatic leads that don’t quite connect. Dwayne Johnson presents his usual smolder and Emily Blunt showcases deft comedic timing, but neither actor earns enough development within their flatly-conceived roles. Ineffective banter and route dramatic scenes prevent the duo from developing much in terms of chemistry, although most of the blame there would be on the flat screenplay. Collaborated on by three writers, Jungle Cruise presents a busy yet incredibly airless narrative, one that relies solely on mudane lore and obvious plot turns to engineer interest. None of the characters connect enough to mask the screenplay’s autopilot nature.

    Jungle Cruise also falls short in its form of blockbuster adventure. Collet-Serra’s sturdy filmmaking is offset by a murky overkill of expensive special effect designs. For a story centered around high-steak adventure, the film lands with an overproduced, studio-mandated aroma that prevents genuine excitement. I wanted to support an earnest hommage like this, but the film merely dips its toe into the swashbuckling pastiche without possessing a clear direction within it.

    Mileage will vary, but Jungle Cruise’s inert vision left me at a constant disconnect. None of the promising pieces connect as well as they should for this failed franchise-starter. Still, I would rather see Disney take a sincere risk like this compared to another live-action remake.

    Jungle Cruise premiers in theaters and on Disney+ Premier Access on July 30.