Let Him Go - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Kevin Costner, Diane Lane, and Jeffrey Donovan in “Let Him Go”

‘Let Him Go’:  Lane and Costner embrace this effective 20th century western

Directed by:  Thomas Bezucha

Written by:  Thomas Bezucha, based on Larry Wilson’s novel

Starring:  Diane Lane, Kevin Costner, Lesley Manville, Kayli Carter, and Booboo Stewart

“Let Him Go” – “You let it be known, you’re looking for a Weboy, they’ll find you.”

The last time that we saw Diane Lane and Kevin Costner on the big screen together, they played Superman’s parents, Martha and Jonathan Kent, in “Man of Steel” (2013), and in director/writer Thomas Bezucha’s “Let Him Go”, they portray a caring mom and dad as well.  Margaret and George Blackledge (Lane, Costner) don’t live in Smallville.  They reside in Montana. 

For many years, Margaret broke horses, and George – a long-time lawman - broke open cases and chased down criminals.  They’re both retired now and soaking up the good life on a spacious farm and tending to a few stallions in the company of their grandbaby Jimmy, grown son James (Ryan Bruce), and his wife Lorna (Kayli Carter). Other than Lorna and Margaret occasionally quarreling, life feels like a Hallmark card or a Norman Rockwell painting at the Blackledge Ranch, and Bezucha scribes and paints these moments with sunshine, breakfast at the kitchen table, and Stephen M. Davis’ gentle score.

Sometimes, life has a way of muddling our best-laid plans, and tragedy strikes the Blackledges.  Early in the film’s first act, James suddenly passes away, and Lorna remarries Donnie Weboy (Will Brittain), who unfortunately is the wrong guy.  The young family moves out of state, but Margaret is determined to see her grandson again, and then some.  

Bezucha’s screenplay – based on Larry Watson’s 2013 novel – wraps itself within the tightly-wound bonds of family.  It’s a timeless concept with all eras of humanity, but this one is set in the 1960s, an age before global consumer supply chains, Starbucks on every third corner, and social media.  Mothers and fathers regularly converse – in-person - with their adult children and grandkids throughout the week, and big Saturday barbeques with laughter and hamburgers fill up the calendar, year after year.  James’ passing already punished the Blackledges, but the thought of losing Jimmy – due to distance, not death – feels unbearable to Margaret, and this thoughtful, kind mamma grizzly refuses to let her grandson go. 

Margaret admits, “I don’t know when it’s time to call it quits.” 

Mrs. Blackledge may indeed fight past midnight, but this is a core strength.  Margaret is a superwoman of sorts, who also provides a bedrock of support to her steady - but weary - husband.  George has seen more ills in society’s underbelly than he cares to remember and internalizes these troubled memories, as Bezucha hints that his protagonist’s drinking was a frequent source of strife with Margaret.  George equally supports his wife though, and feels at ease following her lead within his unfamiliar spaces.  This couple enjoys a dedicated, healthy relationship, and Costner and Lane proudly offer robust, salt-of-the-earth genuine turns that easily fit in the mid-20th century as well as the 19th, and Margaret’s long braids is a nice touch that doesn’t go unnoticed.

The duality of the film’s tones isn’t unseen either.  As this pleasant pair travel to Gladstone, N.D. to see Jimmy, they embark into dark territory to meet their grandson’s stepfather’s family:  the Weboys.  “Let Him Go” steps into steep noir because the meeting of the minds turns into a tension-filled, Hatfields-and-McCoys engagement.  Instead of a full-on war, nail-biting discourse and underlying threats are the cold dishes cooked and served by Blanche Weboy in Lesley Manville’s mesmerizing performance, one of the very best of 2020.  

Blanche – a poisonous matriarch, who has seen as much mayhem as George – might just be his main adversary - for decades - in an alternate universe.  On Earth 1, however, George and Blanche meet under more civil matters, which quickly turn toxic after 1.5 seconds.   She’s a dangerous villain that stirs memories of - and draws parallels to - Janine Cody (Jacki Weaver) in “Animal Kingdom” (2010), and Blanche isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and whisper dastardly nothings in your ear.

This clan clash is so effective because the movie takes time establishing Margaret and George’s altruistic – although not flawless – personas and relationship.  These two are human, make mistakes, and also wear white cowboy hats in this modern-day western, as they gallop into hostile territory. 

Margaret and George are courageous, valiant souls, and these roles feel wholly fitting for Diane Lane and Kevin Costner…and Martha and Jonathan Kent too.

(3/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

The Thing (1982) - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Kurt Russell in “The Thing” (1982)

Directed by:  John Carpenter

Written by:  Bill Lancaster, based on John W. Campbell Jr.’s “Who Goes There?”

Starring:  Kurt Russell, Wilford Brimley, Keith David, Richard Dysart, Richard Masur, Donald Moffat, and T.K. Carter

“The Thing” (1982) – “I don’t know who to trust.” – Dr. Blair (Wilford Brimley)

We’ve all heard that phrase before.  Perhaps you attended MBA school, competed in a beauty pageant, or watched “Survivor”, the reality television show in which contestants compete for a million dollars in the remote locales of Borneo, the Pearl Islands, or Cambodia.  Although Richard Hatch, Sandra Diaz-Twine, and Jeremy Collins voted their “Survivor” castmates off the island, no one felt like their lives were in jeopardy.

(Now, wear a Michigan Wolverines jersey to an Ohio State home football game on a November afternoon, and well, perhaps one’s health could fall into question, but let’s not digress.)

In John Carpenter’s “The Thing” – the creature-feature remake of the 1951 classic “The Thing from Another World” – a dozen men working at the United States’ National Science Institute Station #4 in Antarctica don’t have full confidence with their colleagues. 

You see, something has infiltrated their camp. 

A beyond-strange, murderous monster attempts to hunt them down, and it possesses a transformative, shape-shifter proficiency to take their physical form(s) and walk undetected among the rest of the populous as a normal human being.  This ability – of course – gives it the camouflage to easily strike again.

Who is a friend?  Who is a foe?  A more appropriate question is:  How many friends or foes does one have? 

Carpenter’s horror masterpiece combines “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” (1956, 1978) with an Agatha Christie story, like “Murder on the Orient Express” (1974, 2017) or “Evil Under the Sun” (1982).  Now, our villain isn’t from some faraway corner of the globe.  In the film’s opening scene, we see a spaceship enter Earth’s atmosphere, but yes, this antagonist is undoubtedly evil.  Then again, maybe it is just Mother Nature in her most bizarre, lethal, and unworldly form. 

Like 12 men on a jury, the guys operating this secluded government facility come in all shapes and sizes.  A mix of scientists (like Dr. Blair (Brimley, sans his famous mustache) and Dr. Copper (Richard Dysart)) and support staff (like Nauls (T.K. Carter) and R.J. MacReady (Kurt Russell)) are left wondering who to embrace and who to shoot.  Actually, MacReady – a bearded, alpha male with a penchant for J&B scotch whiskey and computer chess – chooses his weapon wisely, as he instinctively decides that a flamethrower is the best defense against this threatening baddie. 

Although the actual combat between the humans and alien is excessively violent, noisy, and extremely gory, psychological horror fills this high-stakes murder-mystery.  The creature can attack at any moment, but it prefers lonely, solitary circumstances.  Carpenter establishes the physical environment from the get-go with several camera shots of the camp.  We see that this large semi-sprawling metallic facility accommodates plenty of radio and computer equipment, small dimly-lit offices, storage rooms crammed with boxes, and a recreation center complete with a ping pong table.  Several times, no one appears on-screen.  This research station sits in the most isolated place on the planet, and it’s pretty darn quiet inside too, with an infinite number of discreet places to hide. 

“This thing doesn’t want to show itself.  It wants to hide inside an imitation,”  MacReady declares.

Even random conversations are filled with tension because – for example - is Fuchs (Joel Polis) speaking with Childs (Keith David) or an extra-terrestrial imposter?   In one scene, MacReady talks into a tape recorder to document his and his coworkers’ ominous predicament, but our director frames him in the lower right portion of his camera lens and leaves a wide-open space – with an open doorway showing an empty hallway - to our reluctant hero’s left.  Carpenter tees up the potential for a sudden, ferocious confrontation, and the audience will surely wince in anticipation of one.    

With good reason, because “The Thing” is the ultimate horror whodunit, but it’s also known for its mind-blowing practical effects that still hold up 38 years later.  The Thing might look like MacReady, Norris (Charles Hallahan), Clark (Richard Nasur), or anyone else, but then an army of snake-like tentacles, spider legs, or green tendons smothered in slimy goo will burst from underneath its skin and wrap-up a victim with malevolent intent. 

During a 2017 interview, Keith David recalls the remarkable and realistic special effects.

“I remember the first day that we walked in and saw the dog that explodes. As I recall, the ASPCA came in because they thought that it was a real dog and wanted to make sure we weren’t mistreating these animals,”  David says.

Although The Thing wants to kill in the shadows, director of photography Dean Cundey displays visual effects artist Rob Bottin’s wonderfully-repulsive creations of visceral guts and gore in plain view with shiny, bright lights.  Cundey doesn’t lean subtly here, as he proudly shows off every square inch of Bottin’s dastardly handiwork, along with the sounds of our suffocating stalker’s sickly shrieks, splashes, and swishes.

While Carpenter’s “Halloween” (1978) spills very little blood, “The Thing” is the polar (pardon the pun) opposite.  The two movies diverge in another key way.  His Michael Myers slasher film raked in about 70 million dollars in theatres, but this Antarctic terror fest (actually filmed in the ice fields above Juneau, Alaska and also Stewart, British Columbia) only pulled in 19 million bucks at the box office, and critics offered mixed reviews at the time.  The depressing, doomsday outlook didn’t lift audiences spirits either.

In a 2008 interview, Carpenter said, “I made a really grueling dark film, and I just don’t think audiences in 1982 wanted to see that.  They wanted to see ‘E.T.’ (1982), and ‘The Thing’ was the opposite of ‘E.T.’”

Thirty-eight years later, audiences are much more receptive to “The Thing”, which Carpenter appreciates.

He adds, “I’m very proud of the movie.  I always loved it.  It’s one of my favorites of my own films.” 

Well, “The Thing” is my all-time favorite horror movie.  It’s that good.  Come on, you can trust me.

(4/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic. Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

Come Play - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Gavin MacIver-Wright, Azhy Robertson, Winslow Fegley, and Jayden Marine in “Come Play”.

Dir: Jacob Chase
Starring: Azhy Robertson, Gillian Jacobs, John Gallagher Jr., and Winslow Fegley

A light flickers, flashes, and then blows out. A young boy, panicked, looks intently around his bedroom, holding the glow of a cell phone screen out to illuminate the darkness in the corners. A low grumbling voice grows into a shrieking scream, footsteps pound with booming tremors, the young boy sits covered with a sheet draped over his head.

This scenario could come from any realm of a horror film but it plays the introduction to writer/director Jacob Chase’s debut feature film “Come Play”. The scene of a terrified child placed in a frightful situation, sometimes known as the “child in peril” device, has populated film in many different forms. Sometimes it’s fun, like in “The Goonies”, playful, like in “The Monster Squad”, and other times downright scary and disturbing, like in “The Babadook” or “It”. “Come Play” falls into the scary category, a film that depends less on its jump scare tactics and more on the unease it conjures by placing a defenseless child within arm’s reach of a monster from another realm.

Oliver (Azhy Robertson) is a lonely boy who feels different from everyone around him, most of the kids at his school mock his silence and some take advantage of his kindness with cruel jokes. Looking for a friend, Oliver seeks refuge within the screen of his tablet or cell phone, watching episodes of “SpongeBob SquarePants” and playing with screen applications to take pictures of himself. One day Oliver discovers a story that mysteriously appears on his device, a creepy tale about a lonely monster named Larry who is looking for a friend. As Oliver engages with the story, Larry becomes more threatening, inching closer to a real-life connection with Oliver.

Director Jacob Chase adapts “Come Play” from his 2017 short film “Larry”. While there are moments throughout the feature that feel stretched unnecessarily, a common concern when a short film idea is built into a feature length film, “Come Play” still displays some interesting family character dynamics and a lead performance from Azhy Robertson that is exceptionally composed.

It’s these moments, with a family struggling on the brink of separation and their son desperately retreating further into his protective shell, that adds the emotional component to make the scary and threatening monster have a gravity of consequences. Specifically, the story between the mother and son is so tenderly composed that when Larry begins to stalk the entire family, the peril for the characters is peaked with tension. It’s ultimately what makes “Come Play” so effective.

Larry, the ominous 10-foot tall entity lingering in the dark corners, is mostly a practical effect monster…yes, you read that correctly. In the current days where monsters are computer-generated designs, hearing that the Jim Henson Creature Shop designed this monster, where 4 puppeteers operated the movement, is a complete blessing for movie monsters. While CGI is still used for certain movements and expressions, these moments are hardly scary, Mr. Chase uses the monster in effective frightening ways late in the film, showing the creepy nature of Larry as it stalks Oliver and his mother.

“Come Play” struggles with maintaining its pressing and menacing tone throughout the film but it makes up for these lapses with an effective cast that is provided time to add the emotional components to make the final act scarier than it probably would have been. Jacob Chase proves an understanding of how to set up a scare but, most impressively, the ability to craft characters that mean something to the story. While film will never stop relying on putting children in perilous situations, or placing scary monsters in closets, “Come Play” proves that there is still life and scares to be mined from these movies.

Monte’s Rating
3.50 out of 5.00

Alone With Her Dreams - Movie Review by Jen Johans

Marta Castiglia as Lucia in “Alone with her Dreams.”

Director: Paolo Licata

Writers: Paolo Licata, Catena Fiorello, & Ugo Chiti

Cast: Marta Castiglia, Lucia Sardo, Ileana Rigano, & Katia Greco

Review by Jen Johans

Warning his friend not to put so much stock into his dreams for the future that he loses sight of reality, in “The Shawshank Redemption,” Red (Morgan Freeman) tells Andy (Tim Robbins) that “hope is” not only “a dangerous thing,” but it can also “drive a man insane.”

Of course, for that to happen, you'd have to view hope as a good thing, which is the opposite relationship that eleven-year-old Lucia (Marta Castiglia) has with the feeling in director Paolo Licata’s “Alone With Her Dreams.”  Knowing of hope's pitfalls, she explains that “when a person 'hopes' to do something, they never end up doing it,” which is a lesson that her grandmother Maria (Lucia Sardo) takes to heart, quoting Lucia's words back to her in the Italian film's final act.

Applying this logic to her parents' sudden qualification that they, along with her younger brother, “hope” they can return home for Christmas after so many conversations where it'd previously been a certainty, Lucia sees the writing on the wall when she hears her least favorite word on the phone. Saying that she wishes she hadn't talked to them so she could've gone on assuming they'd come back for the holidays, Lucia begins feeling lonelier than ever, living with the stubbornly defiant Maria in her tiny hometown on the coast of Sicily, after the rest of her family fled to France to make a better living.

Caught in the middle of a family feud that goes back to her grandmother's generation – as the stern woman has forbidden Lucia from having anything to do with Maria's sister Pina (Ileana Rigano) or Pina’s daughter Rosamaria (Katia Greco) – as Lucia waits to join her family in France, she struggles to find out just what led to their rift. Realizing that the truth of the situation is much darker than the gossip she's been led to believe, soon history repeats itself in a cruel twist of fate as the tragedy of the women's past threatens to envelop Lucia as well.

A sun-drenched coming-of-age saga, based upon the novel by Catena Fiorello and adapted for the screen by Licata, Fiorello, and Ugo Chiti, this languidly paced, atmospheric film takes a good thirty minutes to immerse you in its near desolate Sicilian environment. With its one store that, for a fee, will let you use a phone (which is then lowered out of the window by a rope basket) and its statue of the Virgin Mary that residents donate to in order to ask God for wishes, in this town, we feel as though we've wandered into a whole other world.

Centered on a sparsely populated seaside community where nearly everyone knows everyone else or, as in Lucia's case, is related to several other residents, “Alone With Her Dreams” seems to be set in the 1960s or '70s. Timeless, foreign, and remote, the town we find ourselves in is a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Rome, made popular by some of the biggest Italian cinema exports from the era.

Yet as “Alone With Her Dreams” begins to incorporate themes of how abuse, trauma, and shame are passed down from one generation to the next under the guise of secrets and lies, it morphs into an incredibly timely work. Additionally, it's one you just might find that you want to discuss with the women in your family tree as soon as it ends.

Described as a “shocking... new Italian classic from the heart,” by director Oliver Stone, the film is now available on-demand from Corinth Films after a successful, award-winning, festival run. Requiring patience in viewers used to having most things spelled out for them in the first ten minutes of a movie, “Alone With Her Dreams” uses a natural approach that's more indicative of classic Italian neorealist filmmaking.

Eschewing the building blocks of most coming-of-age fare, while initially, I wasn't sure what to make of it, the film grows both more compelling and more universally relatable with each successive scene. Reminiscent of the way that the family sagas helmed by Taiwanese New Wave filmmakers preferred to let their characters live and breathe rather than try to manufacture a protracted plot out of thin air, while Licata's “Alone With Her Dreams” isn't for every filmgoer, those who stay with it will find it's a hard movie to shake.

Potent and wonderfully acted, to Licata's credit, this ensemble drama is brought vividly to life with more color and verve than we typically see in Sicilian set features, which are far too often painted purely in the shades of sun and sand. Likewise, it's a rare, vital, feminist effort about what it means to be a girl growing up in an oppressive Catholic culture where there's much more going on beneath the surface than women are traditionally allowed to discuss.

An unusual and affecting film, in “Alone With Her Dreams,” Lucia and her Sicilian female relatives learn that, rather than hope for a spiritual intervention or the help of a man, sometimes it's better just to take care of things themselves... in whatever way they see fit.

(Bio: A three-time national award-winning writer, when Jen Johans isn't reviewing movies at FilmIntuition.com or releasing new episodes of her podcast “Watch With Jen,” you can find her on Twitter @FilmIntuition.)

Borat Subsequent Moviefilm - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Sacha Baron Cohen as Borat in ‘Borat Subsequent Moviefilm’

‘Borat Subsequent Moviefilm’ is a good success

Directed by:  Jason Woliner

Starring:  Sacha Baron Cohen and Maria Bakalova

“Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” – “This film is unsuitable for children under the age of 3.” – Four by Two Films

And how!

The aforementioned, extremely valid warning appears just before the opening credits to “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm: Delivery of Prodigious Bribe to American Regime for Make Benefit Once Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan” – which, naturally, is a follow-up to director Larry Charles’ megahit “Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan” (2006).

After watching this wild, distasteful, uncomfortable, no-holds-barred comedy, this critic can think of many friends, family, and acquaintances of all ages who would find it inappropriate too.  Then again, many others in my Rolodex will champion director Jason Woliner’s flick and then beg for another film in 2021, instead of waiting another 14 more years for a third Borat Sagdiyev (Sacha Baron Cohen) feature.

Yes, Borat - the enthusiastic, America-admiring, sexist, anti-Semitic, Kazakhstani journalist – is back – as well as mentions of gypsy tears, potassium, and much more - in a worthy sequel that reflects a new time in Kazakhstan and the U.S. and A.

Since the events of Borat’s distinctive American reportings in 2006, his home country “has become a laughing stock around the world”, and Kazakhstanis have turned on our favorite Central Asian reporter.  He’s become a pariah.

What?  You joke? 

Well, after several years of punishment (that will not be specifically revealed in this review), Borat finally catches a break, as Premier Nazarbayev sends him on a mission back to the States to deliver a gift to U.S. Vice President Mike Pence.  The plan is to refurbish Kazakhstan’s standing with the community of nations.  Thankfully – and as one would expect - this opportunity allows Borat to bump into everyday Americans and hopefully a powerful one or two over 90 chaotic minutes. 

Cohen proudly struts his legendary “Candid Camera” shtick, as his bumbling, 6’ 3” inch alter ego offers his offensive, limited world-view to various Americans who are too polite to correct his many declarations, such as women belong in cages and that COVID-19 is a “liberal hoax.”  To be more accurate, these unsuspecting folks are either too good-mannered to retort, or they silently agree, and in a couple of key moments, they boisterously approve.  It’s all done for comedic effect, and in most cases, Cohen connects, and Borat fans will rejoice, belly laugh, and shed tears of joy.

Cohen enthusiasts and innocent movie bystanders might voice concerns as well.  It’s 2020, and the coronavirus – as we all painfully know - has gripped the U.S., and our hero dives into one-on-one encounters sans a mask.  One assumes that Cohen and his team addressed suitable safety precautions, but then again, that’s the unexplained magic of this British comic savant:  How does he do it?

The first Borat film raked in 232 million dollars worldwide at the box office – and who knows how much in DVD and streaming sales – but Cohen somehow finds random bystanders who don’t know his famous character and then fall for his con while the camera rolls.  In most cases, however, SBC invents various disguises to fool his victims, err…willing participants. 

This time around, Cohen introduces an additional wrinkle: a new, on-screen contributor, Borat’s 15-year-old daughter Tutar (Maria Bakalova), who tags along with her dad throughout the picture.  Bakalova – a 24-year-old Bulgarian actress – is a refreshing addition, and she serves as an extension of her father’s obliviousness of modern times.

“It’s impossible for women to drive,” Tutar declares. 

She also holds many tangential, oppressive beliefs that are not appropriate to disclose in a PG-rated movie review, but Bakalova relieves the pressure from Cohen to carry on his performance art for the entire film.  Although fanatics may clamor for constant Borat screen time, Sacha Baron doesn’t wear out his welcome and wisely picks his spots. 

Although in one particular case in the third act, Cohen crosses a line in a mortifying sequence with a prominent politician that will trigger PTSD-shivers from “Bruno” (2009) and former U.S. Congressman Ron Paul.

That moment – even for big Borat and Sacha Baron Cohen supporters – is a tough watch, and it rings as highly embarrassing rather than funny.  Still, Cohen pushes boundaries, and that’s his jam as he spreads his unique comic perspective.

Please note, I haven’t mentioned one sketch throughout this review, and that’s by design.  Why spoil the punchlines?  Rest assured, although “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm” doesn’t reach the heights of our misunderstood protagonist’s first picture, it’s a good success.

(3/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

Rebecca - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

This gorgeous 'Rebecca' reincarnation would work better as a series

Directed by:  Ben Wheatley

Written by:  Jane Goldman, Joe Shrapnel, and Anna Waterhouse, based on the novel by Daphne Du Maurier

Starring:  Lily James, Armie Hammer, and Kristin Scott Thomas

“Rebecca” – Ever been to Monte Carlo?  

Yea, me neither, and the beyond-picturesque, seaside playground for the megarich – that sits in the French Riviera - is a bucket list trip, for sure.  To boot, the Cannes Film Festival is just 55 kilometers southwest along the A-8, so let’s make a second stop during a future holiday in May.  

For the moment, this critic will have to look back at memories of an NCAA Basketball Tournament weekend at Las Vegas’Monte Carlo Hotel about 20 years ago, but I bet a dollar that the views of the Jardin Exotique de Monaco and the Oceanographic Museum top the sights of a 5-dollar blackjack table at 3 a.m. on the Vegas Strip.   

Just a little.

For a working-class girl (Lily James), her trip to Monte Carlo is a dream come true.  This unnamed early 20-something is an assistant for snotty and snooty Mrs. Van Hopper (Ann Dowd), a wealthy, older socialite who isn’t very skilled at making friends.  She frequently delivers orders and dismisses her ward with seemingly each breath. 

“Honestly, everything I’m teaching you, you ought to be paying me,” Van Hopper snarls. 

Nice, but for 90 pounds a year and the chance for world travel, our young heroine will endure her employer’s putdowns, jabs, and bullying.  Her life, however, theatrically changed when Maxim de Winter (Armie Hammer), her version of Prince Charming, appears before her eyes. 

She meets this tall, debonair, affluent widower at a posh hotel’s restaurant on two consecutive mornings, which blossoms into a week-long dream of drives in a 3.5L Bentley, a stroll at Monaco-Ville, and sun and drinks at the beach.  To her surprise, her dance of romance turns into a marriage proposal, and the new Mrs. Maxim de Winter moves into his sprawling English estatecalled Manderley.  

(Not Mandalay Bay, that’s in Southern Nevada.)

Director Ben Wheatley (“High-Rise” (2015)) remakes Alfred Hitchcock’s Best Picture Oscar winner “Rebecca” (1940) – based on Daphne Du Maurier’s novel – but admittedly, I haven’t seen Hitch’s film nor read the book and cannot compare them to2020’s reincarnation.

The title character refers to Maxim’s first wife, a gorgeous, educated trendsetter with a Hollywood movie star’s charisma, and her surviving husband is left picking up his emotional pieces scattered all about his massive home.  Our protagonist is now living in her shadows at Manderley, and the house’s caretaker Mrs. Danvers (Kristin Scott Thomas) isn’t doing her any favors. Danvers could be Nurse Ratched’s refined fraternal twin, and Wheatley wouldn’t be out of line by crashing thunder and flashing lightning during each on-screen appearance.  Think Frau Blucher from “Young Frankenstein” (1974).  Danvers isthat intimidating, as she eerily repeats Mrs. Van Hopper’s cruel intentions but with more panache.  

The second Mrs. de Winter feels massive burden and anxiety, and James is convincing as a virginal, inexperienced replacement.  She’s afraid of making social miscues, which isonly reinforced when she eventually makes them.  Since Maxim semi-drops the man-of-her-dreams routines once they get settled, she feels alone – like an awkward, abandoned queen - in this British Palace of Versailles.  

Wheatley and cinematographer Laurie Rose capture drop-dead (pardon the pun) gorgeous locales and old money.  You could almost smell the cash, stocks, and bonds.  Meanwhile, costume designer Julian Day matches the attractive co-stars with exceptionally striking, dapper textiles from the period (sometime in the 1930s, possibly 1936), including a mustard suit for Mr. de Winter and a grey wool jacket and black beret for the Mrs., that made this fashion-illiterate bachelor take notice. 

The film looks great, and Wheatley and the cast build a foundation for an engaging drama, but the narrative and pacing feel schizophrenic.  Mrs. de Winter rows against Rebecca’s tide for the film’s first 80 minutes, and then the tones change into something entirely different for the last 40.  An altered storylineemerges (that will not be revealed in this review), as Wheatley and James hustle through a catalog of major life events to lunge towards a rushed conclusion.  In other words, the third act feels like a tacked-on cheap trick.  

Speaking of tricks, a sketchy dream sequence and two random flocks of CGI birds offer a few head-scratchers too and don’t help the cause.  

An ode to Hitchcock, perhaps? 

Well, this version of “Rebecca” seems better suited as a 6-part, 4-hour series, so the story has room to breathe, and the filmmakers could – early on - place clues and subplots thatestablish the surprises in the third act.  Instead, the film leaves uswith an unsatisfying ending due to the film’s construction, completely separate from any joy or gloom that the de Winters may feel by the end credits.  

Where have I felt that quasi-empty sentiment before?  Ah, somewhere in Nevada.  

Monte Carlo and Cannes Film Festival…I hear you calling me. 

(2/4 stars) 

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

Coming Home Again - Movie Review by Jen Johans

Director: Wayne Wang

Writers: Wayne Wang & Chang-rae Lee (based on his essay from “The New Yorker”)

Cast: Justin Chon and Jackie Chung

Review by Jen Johans

Nothing nourishes you quite like your mother. Whether it's the time you spend in the womb absorbing the nutrients from her body, her milk when you're a baby, or the meals she makes you with love growing up, there's sustenance there that you feel even if the only thing you're faced with is her reassuring smile.

It's this connection that Chang-rae (Justin Chon) wants to forge once again or rather, needs to now that his mother (Jackie Chung) is so close to death. A first-generation Korean American who leaves his job and his life in New York to return home to care for his terminally ill mother in San Francisco, when “Coming Home Again” opens, we watch him begin to prepare his mother's signature kalbi recipe for their New Year's Eve dinner.

Slicing short ribs with care so that the bone begins to fall away but remains connected, in his voice-over narration, Chang-rae explains that the meat needs that link for taste because it borrows its richness from the bone. An obvious metaphor for his relationship with his mother, even though stomach cancer has cruelly taken away her ability to eat, he continues to pay tribute to the recipe that she loved to make, and the one that keeps them connected like flesh and bone.

A quiet, experimental effort based on Chang-Rae Lee's eponymous 1995 “New Yorker” essay, which the award-winning author co-wrote with filmmaker Wayne Wang, “Coming Home Again” is an intensely personal, if not overly successful chronicle of the many stages of grief that come to us in waves as we go from knowing someone is going to die to watching that process play out.

Flooded by natural light, with the film's sparse production design, frames within frames, frequent use of reflective surfaces and elements to signify emptiness, and wide, static shots that go on longer than most contemporary fare, director Wayne Wang pays tribute to the intimate chamber dramas of Yasujirō Ozu, Chantal Akerman, and others who've made this genre their bread and butter.

A filmmaker with a significant background helming successful studio ventures like “The Joy Luck Club” and “Maid in Manhattan” in the '90s and early '00s, in 1995, Wang crafted one of my all-time favorite films in “Smoke,” which, along with its freewheeling follow-up “Blue in the Face,” were made in collaboration with the iconoclastic author Paul Auster. 

No stranger to working with acclaimed creators on personal projects, “Coming Home Again,” finds him back in “Smoke” like terrain once again. An opus that celebrated storytelling and human connection, which is what “Coming Home Again” sets out to do too, although Wang has said he prefers independent filmmaking because it allows him to breathe in ways that stressful studio projects do not, this film pales in comparison to “Smoke.” 

Confusingly edited to the point that I had absolutely no idea that a bulk of the film took place over the course of one day until I discovered so in my research, “Coming Home Again” is filled with conversations and flashbacks that weave in and out of the main narrative in ways that feel more random than purposeful. 

Unable to shed its roots as a personal essay brought awkwardly to the screen, “Coming Home Again,” plays like a short film stretched past its breaking point to reach the eighty-six-minute length of a feature. Treating time and memory like a state of mind in flashbacks, this practice extends to the experience overall, making “Coming Home Again” feel nearly twice as long. 

Employing a few bold techniques that we usually attribute to the theater, in the film's flashback scenes, we quickly realize that Chon appears to be roughly the same age as Chung, which says something about the way that time moves both forward and backward concurrently as well as the duo's complex dynamic. This intriguing casting decision also illustrates the number of roles a family member can play in our lives. In several poignant flashbacks, Chung feels more like Chon's sister than his mother, especially when contrasted with the actress portraying his sister whose maternal energy is evident as the two argue about whether it's time to give in to their mother's wish to let her, as Dylan Thomas wrote, “go gentle into that good night” or “rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Overly reliant on the performance of Chon as Chang-rae, which is at its strongest when the actor has something major to fight against, such as when he goes head-to-head with Christians who've come to pray but offer no answers, “Coming Home Again” shortchanges the rest of its cast to its overall detriment. 

Ending the film the same way that Chang-rae Lee did his original essay, which served the print version infinitely better than Wang's film, while our minds keep absorbing and digesting the rhythms of the words of the piece as written, onscreen the sudden final sequence plays as though the film's real conclusion had been left on the cutting room floor. 

Filming many scenes from afar, there's one particularly moving sequence, which finds cinematographer Richard Wong's camera stationed in the base of the kitchen where the New Year's Eve dinner Chang-rae has been preparing awaits offscreen. Using two frames within the frame beautifully, in this affecting mise-en-scene, we sense both the nourishment offered by Chang-rae Lee's mother back when she used the kitchen religiously as well as its absence now that the table in the foreground is empty and she's stuck in the bed located in the background.

Frustratingly, the sequence sums up not only the meaning of the film in one immaculate, painterly shot but also highlights what is missing from the work overall. Feeling less like a film than a collection of occasionally clever frames, performances, and scenes in search of a connective thread, in the end, “Coming Home Again” needs the tender richness of a true narrative the way that Chang-rae needs his mother, his mother needs Chang-rae, and kalbi needs the bone. 

(Bio: A three-time national award-winning writer, when Jen Johans isn't reviewing movies at FilmIntuition.com or releasing new episodes of her podcast “Watch With Jen,” you can find her on Twitter @FilmIntuition.)

The Trial of the Chicago 7 - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Sacha Baron Cohen and Jeremy Strong in ‘The Trial of the Chicago 7’

‘The Trial of the Chicago 7’ argues that 1968 and 2020 aren’t so different

Written and directed by: Aaron Sorkin

Starring:  Eddie Redmayne, John Carroll Lynch, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Frank Langella, Mark Rylance, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, and Sacha Baron Cohen

“The Trial of the Chicago 7” – The Left Coast hosted The Summer of Love in 1967, a time when 100,000 young people converged on San Francisco for music, art, and a sense of community.

In August 1969, the East Coast hosted Woodstock, the famous conglomeration of all-star musical acts and 400,000 human beings touching down on an Upstate NY farm for three days of peace, love, and rock ‘n’ roll/folk melodies.  

In between these iconic events, the American Midwest held an altogether different affair, the 1968 Democratic Convention.  Hosted in Chicago from Aug. 26 – Aug. 29, the political gathering twisted into a tinderbox of frustration, especially for those opposing the Vietnam War.  Add the devastating assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and U.S. Sen. Bobby Kennedy in April and June, respectively, and the country’s tensions reached an all-time high, or one of several angst-filled peaks. 

Walter Cronkite even called the convention a “police state.”

Does this sound familiar?

Writer/director Aaron Sorkin’s “The Trial of the Chicago 7” explores this tumultuous time, and in an Oct. 2020 interview with “CBS This Morning”, he said, “I wanted (the movie) to be about today, and it is.  We really didn’t realize how much it was going to be about today until we got to today.”

Back in ’68, protesters converged in Chicago.  Thousands of these demonstrators and the police reached a confrontation(s), as verbal assaults, rocks, tear gas, and batons became the primary communication tools.  Five months later, U.S. Attorney General John Mitchell (John Doman) assigns Richard Schultz (Joseph Gordon-Levitt) to prosecute – in U.S. District Court - a select group of the dissenters with criminal conspiracy “to insight a riot.”   The men were known as the Chicago 7, even though eight faced trial. 

Schultz is reluctant.  He thinks that the case is thin because the Rap Brown Law is the basis for the A.G.’s will.  The 33-year-old lawyer says, “(The law) was created by Southern whites in (the U.S.) Congress to limit the free speech of black activists.” 

He adds, “No one has ever been charged with it before.” 

Sorkin spends – seemingly - most of the 129-minute screen time within the courtroom, rather than the infamous events themselves, although the case is notorious for a few key reasons, and he outlines them in his film.  Thankfully, the cast and crew do get outside on occasion, as our writer/director extraordinaire features the protests (and the decisions leading up to them) through flashbacks during the trial, similarly to Jim Garrison’s (Kevin Costner) legal labor in “JFK” (1991).  At times, the court case – admittedly - feels like a lengthy chronicle - rather than riveting cinema.  Meanwhile, the movie’s highpoints tie to the struggles at Grant Park and nearby, on-location spots.  

What’s that news saying?  If it bleeds, it leads.  

Still, this was a drawn-out trial.  Sorkin fills the air with – his signature of - high detailed, stylized nuance.  The comprehensive back-and-forth nestles on a foundation of probably 4,000 hours of research, although the discourse between the defendants and their low-key, pragmatic attorney William Kunstler (played nicely by Mark Rylance) feels procedural.  The minute particulars are essential to catalog for reference, but the sweeping, broader themes of power struggles, unfair and erratic judicial decisions, and one vile, racist act sear into our long-term memories. 

“The Trial of the Chicago 7” really has a whole lot to unpack, and an impressive cast helps with the heavy lifting, as Eddie Redmayne, Alex Sharp, Jeremy Strong, John Carroll Lynch, Danny Flaherty, Noah Robbins, Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, and Sacha Baron Cohen state their characters’ cases.  Lynch, Abdul-Mateen II, and Cohen offer memorable performances, but Frank Langella steals the show as the maddening Judge Julius Hoffman.  Langella’s work could levy (additional) anxiety on anyone needing to enter a courtroom someday soon because Judge Hoffman is that upsetting.  Then again, in 2020, feeling anxious is our new normal, so hey, no big deal.  

Well, let’s hope that history repeats itself: Woodstock 2021 and better times next year. 

(3/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

2 Hearts - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Radha Mitchell and Adan Canto in ‘2 Hearts’

‘2 Hearts’ has good intentions, but it flutters with clichés

Directed by:  Lance Hool

Written by:  Veronica Hool and Robin U. Russin 

Starring:  Radha Mitchell, Tiera Skovbye, Jacob Elordi, and Adan Canto

“2 Hearts” – “As the world becomes a more digital place, we cannot forget about the human connection.” – Adam Neumann

“Two of hearts.  Two hearts that beat as one.  Two of hearts. I need you. I need you.” – Stacey Q, “Two of Hearts”

Director Lance Hool’s romantic drama “2 Hearts” does not feature a smartphone, an incoming email, or a Yelp review.   His characters seem to live in the pre-Internet past, but deciphering the exact on-screen year is like attempting to decode David Lynch’s “Mulholland Dr.” (2001) or ascertain the meaning of a random Jackson Pollock painting.  You might unearth some clues, but discovering the exact answer will prove pretty darn impossible.  

This feature actually presents two narratives from different periods.  Chris (Jacob Elordi) - a happy-go-lucky, all-American high school senior who eyes college and good times - lives in more recent times, while Jorge (Adan Canto) – an industrious Cuban professional who helps run his father’s rum business – resides in a prior era.   Ah, but Jorge meets a flight attendant (Radha Mitchell) on a Pan Am flight, and since the airline disbanded in 1991, 1980 or so feels about right. 

Chris also happens to be our narrator, and he frequently declares philosophical mantras about finding one’s purpose and that “life happens for us, not to us.”  

He’s a sweet, thoughtful guy and delivers his proverbs with the cadence of Jack Handey, but sans the punchlines, and why not?   Heck, he meets Sam (Tiera Skovbye), a wholesome, studious co-ed, and they fall in love.  In a parallel amorous yarn, Jorge and Leslie (Mitchell) only have eyes for one another too. 

Throughout most of the first two acts, “2 Hearts” offers – accompanied by an uber-sentimental score - these warm courtships, as each pair of lovebirds - from different locales and times - share their goals, hopes, and feelings with their respective partners.   This is all fine and good, but – other than two specific medical issues – the couples don’t run into conflicts, clashes, compromise, or contention.  Even though they exhibit model adult-relationship behavior – which therapists everywhere will applaud - cinematically, the minutes plod on as Sam watches Chris and his brothers play sandlot football on campus, and Jorge and Leslie lounge on a Hawaiian beach.  

You won’t find a dramatic “The Notebook” (2004) kiss in the rain or a loving “A Star Is Born” (2018) concert duet, as these romances carry the luster of any real-life relationship with plenty of good manners and chivalry but little magic or dramatic spark.  The on-screen couples seem to enjoy one another, but those pleasant vibes don’t entirely translate into vested interest, at least where this critic sat for 100 minutes. 

Did the gushy love affairs feel too commonplace?  Were the struggles between the male leads and their fathers painted with broad, clichéd brushes?  Was the ultimate connection between the individual narratives way too obvious?   All of the above is probably the right answer, and to boot, a third act scriptwriting trick (that will not be mentioned here) feels a bit unfair.

Indeed, “2 Hearts” - based on a true story - owns a positive, kindhearted message, and quite frankly, all audiences should appreciate the movie’s intentions and lessons.  Yes, those in love with love might cherish this film, but others might wish to turn to their phones and flip through social media.

(1.5/4 stars)  

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

White Riot - Movie Review by Jen Johans

“White Riot” (2019)

Director: Rubika Shah

Cast: Red Saunders, Dennis Bovell, & Mykaell Riley.

Review by Jen Johans

Once upon a time, Eric Clapton lost his mind. Stopping a show in Birmingham to ask any “foreigners” in the audience to raise their hands, he told them he wanted them gone, not just from the concert but his country altogether. “I don't want you here,” he shouted. “I think we should send them all back...We need to make clear to them they are not welcome. England is for white people, man … This is Great Britain, a white country!"

The year was 1976. As shocking as these words were back then and remain to this day, when it came to views like these, Eric Clapton was far from alone. Joined in supporting the new rise of fascism in the UK, David Bowie argued that Britain was ready for a fascist leader and called Adolf Hitler the first rock star in an interview with “Playboy.” Following Clapton's lead, Rod Stewart went even further, giving a full-throated endorsement for racist National Front political party member Enoch Powell, saying that he too thought it was time for foreigners to leave. But this position wasn't just coming from those in rock. With punk taking over the music scene in Britain, The Sex Pistols, Adam Ant, and Siouxsie and the Banshees were just three punk groups who openly embraced Nazi symbolism and swastikas in their costumes and performances.

What the hell was going on, you might ask? The short answer is that in the mid to late '70s, England was rampant with anger and hate. Inundated with job loss and scapegoating the problems of the country on immigrant “invaders” with “black, brown, and yellow faces,” as the National Front ranted in their rallies, Britain's tide was turning in a horrific direction. Watching this happen in real-time, rock photographer Red Saunders vowed to do whatever he could to stop the impending flood of xenophobia before it was too late.

Writing an open letter to Clapton, whose music, he rightfully charged, was cribbed directly from Black blues artists, Saunders sounded the alarm and offered a solution. “We want to organise a rank-and-file movement against the racist poison in rock music,” he wrote. Leaving his contact information in the letter for interested parties, after his missive was printed in music publications across the UK, Saunders was overwhelmed by the response.

Joining forces with gifted graphic designers, writers, photographers, musicians, and artists, they formed the group Rock Against Racism to reach the youths of England in an attempt to educate the younger generation against propagandist hate. Hosting events where they purposely had Black and white bands playing back-to-back, the organization put on more than two hundred shows in its first year and created a fanzine called “Temporary Hoarding,” which addressed the real-world problems of racist policing, the Catholic side of the North Ireland conflict, sexual violence, immigration, LGBT issues, and other topics which were ignored by the mainstream press.

Chronicling the legacy of the group while bringing issues of “Temporary Hoarding” bursting to life through vibrant animation (which filmmaker Rubika Shah acknowledges was inspired by the films of Brett Morgan, including “Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck”), “White Riot” is a lively time capsule of a fraught period in England made eerily prescient due to recent events.

Watching the arguments made by the National Front in the wake of MAGA, Trump, the murderous Nazi march on Charlottesville, police brutality and the Black Lives Matter protests, as well as the advent of increasing fascism around the globe, “White Riot” plays like one of the scariest horror films you'll see ahead of Halloween. From bullets in the mailbox to assaults against musicians and concertgoers to the open police support for the National Front and their policies, it's a harrowing document of a fraught era in British history and the brave artists, organizations, and youths who dared to join forces to put hate in its place.

Interviewing not only Red Saunders and his colleagues but also some of the musicians who played Rock Against Racism (or RAR) gigs, including The Tom Robinson Band and Alien Kulture, while Shah's film admittedly suffers from a lack of focus as it seems to adjust and expand its thesis every time a vital new issue is introduced, it's an urgent eye-opener, nonetheless. Releasing to virtual cinemas from Film Movement ahead of the U.S. election, it's sure to inspire viewers to get involved, stay involved, and – here in the states, at least – vote.

Featuring amazing archival interviews, photos, and concert footage with bands including The Clash, Sham 69, Matumbi, Steel Pulse, X-Ray Spex, and more, “White Riot,” which gets its name from a widely misunderstood Clash song off their first album, is of particular interest to UK music fans. Celebrating the grassroots movement that started in an east London print shop and exploded into a legendary carnival so important that The Clash swallowed their egos and played second to last before event headliner Tom Robinson (who'd been with RAR from the very beginning), the debut feature from Shah promises great filmmaking from the documentarian to come.

Clocking in at a mere eighty minutes, “White Riot,” is the film equivalent of a punk song. Frenetically edited, it hits its thematic chords hard to drive home the message, ensuring that, unlike Clapton's “I Shot the Sheriff,” this is one refrain you'll be glad to get stuck in your head long after it’s done.

(Bio: A three-time national award-winning writer, when Jen Johans isn't reviewing movies at FilmIntuition.com or releasing new episodes of her podcast “Watch With Jen,” you can find her on Twitter @FilmIntuition.)

The War with Grandpa - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Robert De Niro, Christopher Walken, Cheech Marin, and Jane Seymour in ‘The War with Grandpa’

Maybe ‘The War with Grandpa’ should give peace a chance

Directed by:  Tim Hill

Written by:  Tom J. Astle and Matt Ember

Starring:  Robert De Niro, Oakes Fegley, Uma Thurman, Rob Riggle, Cheech Marin, Christopher Walken, and Jane Seymour

“The War with Grandpa” – Since I’m a child of the 70s and 80s, sometimes 2020 feels like an alien world, not necessarily due to miracles of modern technology, but socially. 

Back in the day, parents left their Gen X children to their own devices (not cell phones but ideas and related tomfoolery) for hours and hours.  My mom would shoo my brothers and me out of the house on Saturday or Sunday mornings, and say, “Have a great day.  Dinner is at six.” 

My father’s word was law, including his cashless payment system in exchange for child labor assignments, like shoveling the driveway during Upstate New York’s arctic winters and multitasking numerous yardwork duties during the humid summers.

I didn’t work for free, because he usually declared, “Don’t worry, Son.  You’ll get double desserts tonight.”   

Great.

On top of this odd duality of rampant freedom and strict adherence to parental commands, most kids – in say, 1980 – wouldn’t start a war with one of their grandfathers.  Forty years ago, grandfathers began smoking at 15 and lived during The Great Depression, World War II, The Cold War, and the Heidi Game.  Quite frankly, I wouldn’t have started a conflict with either of my grandpas for Jack Lambert’s rookie card, a pinball machine, and a year supply of Big League Chew.   Why invite a death wish?

In 2020, Peter (Oakes Fegley) has no such fear. 

Shortly after Peter’s Grandpa Ed (Robert De Niro) moved into his grandson’s room, this plucky 6th grader at Garfield Middle School unleashes a fierce rivalry with his mom’s dad.   You see, Peter had to give up his 12’ by 12’ domain and take up residence in the attic, and hence, Ed – who is a pleasant widower, outside of an ill-advised supermarket confrontation within the movie’s first few minutes – becomes Public Enemy #1 for the loosest of reasons.   

“The War with Grandpa” doesn’t aim very high, but director Tim Hill’s slapstick family comedy serves a couple of purposes.  This critic chuckled a few times over 94 minutes, but I don’t know, perhaps elementary school audiences will have a blast.  Adults will enjoy catching glimpses of the big-time cast.  Hill and 37 producers conjured some magic to sign on De Niro, Uma Thurman, Rob Riggle, Jane Seymour, Cheech Marin, and Christopher Walken.  It’s a head-scratcher, but just about everything entering our orbit in 2020 is laced with surprises. 

There aren’t many other revelations in “Grandpa”.  Ed and Peter have a “Home Alone”-like prankster-filled battle that includes toothpaste mixed with sweets, faulty door hinges, a snake, and the 69 boyz “Tootsie Roll” blasting at an inopportune time.   The movie is harmless and perfectly acceptable for playing in the background while cleaning the house or piecing together a puzzle, but it’s also a bit nonsensical.  Ed is a sympathetic fella and frankly doesn’t deserve Peter placing a bullseye on his head, so the film isn’t set up for compelling theatre.   

Thurman and Riggle carve out ample screen time, but Beatrix Kiddo delivers any ole mom role offered in 10,000 other light comedies, and funnyman Riggle plays it straight.  At least Seymour, Marin, Walken, and De Niro serve up a semi-mean game of dodgeball, so there’s that.   Then again, Walken and De Niro flinging red rubber balls doesn’t have the gravitas of Michael (De Niro) and Nick (Walken) enduring Russian roulette in a Viet Cong prison.  

Hey, the average 10-year-old won’t know the difference, but I’m a child of the 70s and 80s, so…

(1.5/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

Time - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

‘Time’ is sometimes off, but the punctual, personal messages resonate

Directed by:  Garrett Bradley

“Time” – “If you fall, I will catch you.  I will be waiting, time after time.” – Cyndi Lauper, “Time After Time”

Sibil Fox Richardson (a.k.a. Fox Rich) has been waiting for her husband’s return for just over 20 years.  Fox and her high school sweetheart Rob are not legally separated but remain physically apart.  

The couple is legally separated but in an altogether different way.  You see, in 1999, a Louisiana court sentenced Rob to 60 years in prison for armed robbery, and Fox was not an unknowing party.  The Louisiana State Penitentiary does tender Fox a couple visits a month, but can a marriage survive on – what equates to – two days of face-to-face connection per year? Somehow, Fox holds her family – that includes six boys – together in the face of loneliness and regret, making two decades seem like a few centuries. 

During a January 31, 2020 interview with “Film Comment”, director Garrett Bradley stated that she originally intended to make a documentary short about Fox and her story.   On the last day of shooting, however, Bradley’s “worst nightmare and biggest dream came true.”   Rich handed her a bag with “18 years of mini-DV tapes”, and after the director watched 100 hours of home movies, she decided to turn her film into a doc feature.  

“Time” is a challenging watch.  Garrett mingles Rich’s rich history over the past two decades with current footage throughout the 81-minute, non-linear runtime, so it’s sometimes difficult to find your footing.

The movie’s opening six minutes introduces Fox as a young mother with a dissolving safety net.  Rob is in prison, and she is pregnant.  Hope is scarce.   

In the next scene, fast forward to the present, and Fox – born in 1971 – is a seasoned mom, wife, confident business professional, and public speaker, but Rob is still imprisoned.  Their boys have grown into responsible young men, and “Time” organically swells into a plea against the justice system, one that administers lost years between a father and his family.

With approximately 2 million Americans circulating in the prison population, “Time” is one personal story of self-examination, anger, remorse, and devotion where one decision cost the Richardsons nearly everything.  Indeed, plenty of documentaries and features chronicle the madness of an unjust justice system versus people of color, and while “The Central Park Five” (2012) and “Just Mercy” (2019) flash 10-story spotlights on wrongly-accused black men, “Time” documents the pain and anxiety over the consequences of imprisonment. 

The separation takes a toll.  Through numerous cuts and edits (and accompanied by a soft piano), Bradley presents Rich to the audience.  This legally-forsaken wife and mom absorbs her grief, channels it into positive messages for her sons, and tries to hang on to some semblance of normalcy.  Instead of sitting down for straight-up interviews, Fox offers confessionals to her camera and Bradley’s.  The director also seeds the screen with B-roll depicting everyday life, like the first day of school or mom-son teaching moments in the car.  Through these avenues, Bradley’s handiwork feels like director Asif Kapadia’s (“Senna” (2010) and “Amy” (2015)) docs.   Fox’s sons – such as Remington and Justus - also provide needed context for growing up in a split household, and her mother offers frank talk in possibly the only formal interview.

In some ways, “Time” is a remarkable find, but it’s also an unconventional, artistic, and sometimes disjointed one.  It’s a film that could use more traditional documentary threads to stitch together Rich’s and Bradley’s work, but their voices resonate and sometimes cinematically harmonize.   At one point, Bradley captures a pile driver at a nearby construction site, as it repeatedly pounds on the beginnings of a new building. Like clockwork, it utters constant, ominous thuds.  At another place in the film, Rich addresses a live audience by saying, “It’s been 20 years, y’all.” 

These moments feel linked.

(2.5/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

Once Upon a River - Movie Review by Jen Johans

Kenadi DelaCerna in ‘Once Upon a River’

Writer-Director: Haroula Rose (based upon the novel by Bonnie Jo Campbell)

Cast: Kenadi DelaCerna, Tatanka Means, John Ashton, & Coburn Goss.

Growing up in central Michigan in 1977 along the fictional Stark River, fifteen-year-old Margo Crane (Kenadi DelaCerna) knows two things. A crack shot, after only a few minutes of screen time, we see in Margo a girl who knows how to live off the land – with or without the help of her doting father (Tatanka Means) or flattering uncle (Coburn Goss). Unfortunately, what she also knows is just how much she misses her mom who walked out on her and her father several years earlier. And sadly, her ache for a female role model seems to be at its strongest now that she's on the cusp of womanhood.

In fact, it's a sentiment that's relayed to us in Margo's opening voiceover, but even without hearing her say those words, we can see this longing both in her body language and her uncertainty as she puts on red lipstick before a party but then self-consciously rubs it off before she leaves the bathroom. A beautiful girl who – as we all did at that age – drinks up the attention given to her by men since she's still testing the waters of her own power and burgeoning sexuality, unfortunately rather than have someone to discuss all of these conflicting feelings with, she is left to navigate this path on her own.

Ushered into a physical relationship by someone she thought she trusted before she could back up, take a breath, and say no, this startling event is followed by something even more devastating. Soon Margo decides to pack her things and go far away from the only town she's ever known, in the hopes of finding the mom who'd wandered away to find herself so many years before.

Based upon the eponymous novel by Bonnie Jo Campbell, “Once Upon a River” – which marks the feature filmmaking debut from producer, actress, and musician Haroula Rose – belongs to that distinctly American subgenre of adolescent odysseys, best epitomized by Mark Twain's “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.” A young adult version of a western and one that feels like it would play nicely in a thematic film festival alongside “The Journey of Natty Gann,” “Lean on Pete,” “Leave No Trace,” “The Cold Lands,” and “Winter's Bone,” to its slight detriment, “River” fails to overcome the genre's biggest hurdle.

Largely solitary efforts – often about young Woody Guthrie types taking to the open road (or the river) – in order to avoid making a modern-day silent movie, films in this category routinely sprinkle in quirky new characters for our leads to befriend throughout. “Once Upon a River,” is no exception to the rule. All too frequently, it feels as though you can set your watch to when it's just about time for Margo to swap one place and/or person for another, including the scene-stealing John Ashton as a kindly old man she encounters early on.

Yet even though the movie isn't as wholeheartedly successful or emotionally all-encompassing as, say, “Lean on Pete” and “Leave No Trace” (easily two of the greatest films of this type in recent memory), it's quite compelling nonetheless. Especially unique given the fact that it centers on a headstrong young woman who goes searching for one thing but winds up finding herself, "River" rushes through a few pointed turns of events that don't land quite as well as they should without focusing on the why and how our young protagonist is processing them the way that she does.

Still, what it lacks in structure and nuance, it makes up for in its exceptional technical craftsmanship. Well-acted by talented newcomer DelaCerna, and shot with tenderness and a lived-in sensibility by cinematographer Charlotte Hornsby, which makes the film resemble an old '70s era home movie, “Once Upon a River” is a worthwhile journey all the same.

(Bio: A three-time national award-winning writer, when Jen Johans isn't reviewing movies at FilmIntuition.com or releasing new episodes of her podcast “Watch With Jen,” you can find her on Twitter @FilmIntuition.)

The Glorias - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Julianne Moore in ‘The Glorias’

‘The Glorias’ works too hard

Directed by:  Julie Taymor

Written by:  Julie Taymor and Sarah Ruhl, based on the book by Gloria Steinem

Starring:  Julianne Moore, Alicia Vikander, Janelle Monae, Lorraine Toussaint, Bette Midler, Lulu Wilson, and Ryan Kiera Armstrong

“The Glorias” –  “The path up is always a jagged line, not a straight one.” – Gloria Steinem

“Roam if you want to.  Roam around the world.  Roam if you want to, without wings, without wheels.” – The B-52s, “Roam”

Most folks probably know feminist icon Gloria Steinem from “Ms.” (magazine) and her trademark glasses, but this influential trailblazer is a whole lot more than her 49-year-old publication and fancy spectacles.

There’s only one Gloria Steinem.  That’s true, except in writer/director Julie Taymor’s “The Glorias”, a Steinem biopic with four actresses donning her activist cape.  The movie runs from the 1940s to 2017, and Ryan Kiera Armstrong, 10, and Lulu Wilson, 14, cover her childhood, and Alicia Vikander and Julianne Moore split duties during her adult years. 

Although the narrative – broadly speaking – does progress in chronological time, Taymor and Sarah Ruhl’s screenplay – inspired and adapted from Steinem’s book “My Life on the Road” - doesn’t follow traditional patterns. 

“The Glorias” takes an arthouse approach to Ms. Steinem’s 86 years of life and recognizes the woman’s accomplishments but utilizes the four actresses as ever-present beings from the past and future. 

Taymor regularly inserts our protagonist’s memories and milestones out of sequential order.  Armstrong, Wilson, Vikander, or Moore may appear on-screen any minute for a flashback, a flashforward, or a conversation between two Glorias, as the older one offers advice to her younger self.

These style choices allow for an organic look into GS’s mindset, challenges, personal growth, and society’s changing attitudes towards women over the decades, especially during the 1960s and 1970s.  On the other hand, the film takes trippy, unnecessary cuts into the spacetime continuum over 2 hours and 27 minutes.  On a couple of occasions, it dives into bizarre territory, including a brief red tornado montage that combines “Natural Born Killers” (1994) and “The Wizard of Oz” (1939).

Really?

Not unlike Dorothy (Judy Garland), Gloria came from humble beginnings, and the first act chronicles her mom’s (Enid Graham) and dad’s (Timothy Hutton) individual and marital struggles.  Graham and Hutton deliver the film’s most engaging performances, as Steinem’s parents pour insight into her foundation.  Ruth’s (Graham) mental illness challenges forged Gloria’s empathy, and Leo’s (Hutton) fly-by-night barker business approach fueled her desire for travel.  Sure, her folks weren’t perfect human beings, but their passed-down gifts of compassion and adventure are Ms. Steinem’s coveted assets.    

For historians, baby boomers, and anyone who knows the Women’s Movement, Steinem’s life might be already well-chronicled, but Taymor’s picture certainly is an informative look for anyone unfamiliar with her work.   Her story has a few surprises, including a trek to a specific faraway land (that will not be revealed in this review) and an insider’s look into a salacious profession.  We also discover that this famous spokeswoman had a fear of public speaking.  Gloria, however, found her calling by speaking out, as the film places our heroine in unpleasant, sexist spaces that will make John and Jane Q. Citizen balk with revulsion or possibly recoil into post-traumatic work-environment stress.

These moments resonate, but as this Toledo native’s activism turns into accomplishments, the movie starts to feel like a checklist.  Granted, Steinem racked up countless achievements, but from a storytelling perspective, I wouldn’t have objected to a 90-minute account on the formation and booming success of “Ms.”.  In fact, the single most resonate image in the entire film is when an overworked, exhausted mom – coping with three screaming kids raising holy hell at the dinner table – reads a passage from the said periodical and slams it – along with her disgust – into her husband’s chest. 

We needed more of that and more of Lorraine Toussaint as civil rights activist Flo Kennedy, who is a complete joy to watch.   

Learning about Gloria’s empathy – including civil rights for women and people of color – is a pleasure as well, but understanding her passion for the road travels a bit less, primarily because Taymor’s countless scenes of a Greyhound bus with one, two, three, or four Glorias aboard. 

The filmmakers certainly got a lot of mileage out of that bus, as Armstrong, Wilson, Vikander, or Moore rode the 40-foot metallic chariot about 50 times, and Gloria connected with herself and her travels.  Does the movie connect with the audience?  It didn’t for me. 

Still, I’m a Steinem fan and even covered her speaking engagement at Arizona State University in 2007.   I think she gave me a quote too.   

Maybe my quote about this movie is: “I look up to Ms. Steinem, but ‘The Glorias’ is a jagged line, not a straight one.”

(2/4 stars)

(“The Glorias” is available for purchase on digital and streaming exclusively on Prime Video beginning on Sept. 30.)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

On the Rocks - Movie Review by Jen Johans

Bill Murray and Rashida Jones in ‘On the Rocks’

Writer-Director: Sofia Coppola

Cast: Rashida Jones, Bill Murray, Marlon Wayans, & Jenny Slate.

Review by Jen Johans

Having just arrived home from the airport, Dean (Marlon Wayans) parks his suitcase in the master suite and crawls across the bed to tenderly kiss his sleeping wife Laura (Rashida Jones) awake. When her eyes flutter open and she says, “hi,” he abruptly stops. Seemingly puzzled, Dean rolls over to his side of the bed and goes right to sleep as if, Laura suddenly fears, her husband thought she was someone else.

An unsettling incident to be sure and one that makes her hyper-aware of other aspects of her relationship with the devoted father of her two young daughters, as she unpacks Dean's suitcase the next day, Laura is shocked to find a woman's toiletry bag among her husband's belongings, complete with body oil inside. Giving in to her fears about men, women, and monogamy, which were hardwired into her brain since birth as the daughter of the charismatic, larger than life, notoriously unfaithful playboy Felix (Bill Murray), Laura consults her father to get a man's perspective on these incidents and Felix immediately lowers the boom.

“I think we should follow him.”

Although she resists this impulse for as long as she can, once this idea has been planted, it begins to take root. And soon, Laura finds herself speeding along the streets of New York City at night in the passenger seat of her father's least inconspicuous vehicle, a cherry red Alfa Romeo convertible that backfires faster than it accelerates.

A breezily sophisticated New York comedy of the kind that we used to see so often in the 1980s, the seventh feature film from writer-director Sofia Coppola finds her embracing decidedly different stylistic terrain than we've seen before in her earlier work. Challenged by legendary screenwriter Buck Henry to write more dialogue than she normally does, “On the Rocks,” is chattier than Coppola's other movies. But in centering on an artistically minded woman struggling to find her way in a society that likes to put labels on us, it's once again a very autobiographical work right down to the fact that like Sofia Coppola, Rashida Jones' Laura is a married writer struggling to tap into her creative voice while also mothering two young girls.

Casting an actress who, as the daughter of Quincy Jones, would certainly understand what it must've been like to grow up with a charming playboy father such as Sofia Coppola's own dad, Francis Ford Coppola, "Rocks" feels very intimate, just like all of her films that immediately invite you into the world as she sees it. A terrific straight woman foil to the attention-grabbing Felix (who is sensationally brought to life by Bill Murray), Jones' Laura keeps her father in check when he flirts with literally every woman who crosses his path before launching into a monologue that leads us right back into the '70s or what Coppola calls the “martini generation.”

Written expressly for her two leads, although she was hesitant to ever cast Murray in another feature film after the smash success of their 2003 contemporary classic “Lost in Translation” (which was later followed by the 2015 Netflix holiday special “A Very Murray Christmas” that co-starred Jones), he's the natural choice to bring Felix to life. Whether he's serenading Laura and his longtime driver with the Johnny Mercer/David Raskin classic “Laura” or belting out John Tenney and Helen Stone's “Mexicali Rose” to anyone lucky enough to be in the largely empty outdoor Mexican bar that he and Laura journey to on their freewheeling adventure to follow Dean, Coppola knows how to weaponize Murray's magnetism like no other.

Taking Laura to 21 on her birthday in one of many scenes shot in and around New York landmarks, Felix lets it slip that they're sitting at the same table that Bogart used when he proposed to Bacall in the 1940s. And, of course, while the film nerd in us is instantly impressed with this factoid, the longer we think about it, the more we realize that Bill Murray is one of those very special people that only comes around a few times in a generation that – much like Bogart – you expect our ancestors will be talking about 80 years down the line as well.

Culling comedy from everyday life, whether that's in the annoyingly self-involved single mother played by Jenny Slate who monologues at Laura daily at school drop-off and pick-up, or the awkwardness you feel when you're watching your significant other at a party hold court with lots of adoring young members of the opposite sex who look at you like you have three heads, the film builds with wry subtlety.

Eventually growing more contemplative as Project Dean calls up long-dormant feelings involving Felix's infidelity to Laura's mother, the film moves from '80s Stillman, Allen, and Ephron territory into something more akin to Ozu, Antonioni, or Rohmer by the end. Unwilling to fully follow through on the natural progression of the father and daughter's journey – which is more about their relationship than Laura's and Dean's – you get the distinct sense that there's another draft of the script lying around somewhere that took a more somber turn than “Rocks” is ready to commit to in the end.

Still, a fine, frothy film that's perfect for autumn when the weather begins to cool, the mood of the piece feels somewhere between a summer comedy and a thoughtful winter family drama. And although it doesn't quite land the same evocative punch that Coppola's last movie “The Beguiled” – which also dealt with gender roles and power plays – did, "Rocks" is much more substantial than I expected it would be going in.

Likewise, just as Coppola's first three efforts “The Virgin Suicides,” “Lost in Translation,” and “Marie Antoinette” form their own thematic trilogy, “On the Rocks” is a film that would play even more intriguingly in a double feature with Coppola's 2010 drama “Somewhere,” which focused on a young girl trying to connect with her bored, famous, narcissistic father at the Chateau Marmont. A pleasant, mature, and relatable comedy that's much more fun than playing amateur relationship detective with your dad, Coppola's latest film feels like the down-to-earth flipside to "Somewhere"'s airy, yet hypnotizing coin. As distinctly, classically Sofia Coppola as it is quintessentially Bill Murray, "On the Rocks" is one to see.

Note: I viewed a screener of this film – which opens in theaters this weekend – safely from my home. While it's ultimately up to the viewer to decide how they wish to see the movie, I urge you to consider your safety while doing so, as “On The Rocks” will soon be available to all from the comfort of your own home on Apple TV+, starting on Friday, October 23.

(Bio: A three-time national award-winning writer, when Jen Johans isn't reviewing movies at FilmIntuition.com or releasing new episodes of her podcast “Watch With Jen,” you can find her on Twitter @FilmIntuition.)

A Call to Spy - Movie Review by Jen Johans

Stana Katic in ‘A Call to Spy’

Director: Lydia Dean Pilcher

Writer: Sarah Megan Thomas

Cast: Stana Katic, Sarah Megan Thomas, Radhika Apte, & Linus Roache.

Review by Jen Johans

Tasked with recruiting female agents for Winston Churchill's secret army – the SOE or Special Operations Executive – during World War II, Vera Atkins (Stana Katic) is told to seek out women who'd lived in France, know the language inside and out, and are passionate about stopping Hitler. The last piece of criteria? “Make sure they're pretty,” she's advised.

Overwhelmed in the fight against the Nazis, both on the overt military front and the covert one where at least half of all spies that SOE leader Maurice Buckmaster (Linus Roache) sends out as part of Britain's “new ministry of ungentlemanly warfare” are caught and killed, it seems that attractive and accomplished women are the country's last resort. Deemed far less conspicuous to sexist Nazis who wouldn't think twice about a “French” beauty walking down the cobblestone streets of Paris, Vera Atkins casts her net out wide to locate two ladies who are even more likely to go undetected than your typical Frenchwoman.

An educated, intelligent American with movie star good looks, Virginia Hall (Sarah Megan Thomas) had dreams of becoming a diplomat. But after a hunting accident left her with gangrene and a leg amputated below the knee, she finds herself denied for the position just as Vera tracks her down. Finding another fascinating recruit in the fastest wireless operator they have on their side – the pacifist, half-American, half-Indian princess Noor Inayat Khan (Radhika Apte) – Vera tells the two that she would like them to try out for “a club unlike any other.”

Drawing upon actual files regarding the women's work as spies from SOE, OSS, and CIA records, actress, producer, and screenwriter Sarah Megan Thomas (who plays Virginia Hall) does an admirable job of bringing their heroism to life. Fortified by terrific performances across the board, unfortunately, once Noor (played by the film's scene-stealer Apte) lands in France, she isn't given nearly enough of an arc to pay off on just how much “Spy” endeared her to us in the first half of the movie. Worthy of an elegant John Le Carre style miniseries to track the true scope of their work as spies since the film feels rushed and the last act suffers in its attempt to resolve everything at once, “A Call to Spy” is eye-opening all the same. 

A solid – if workmanlike – effort, that perhaps feels more like a made-for-PBS movie than first-time solo filmmaker Lydia Dean Pilcher was hoping it would, “A Call to Spy” cleverly uses the greater Philadelphia area to double for a bulk of the UK and France set period film, as well as Budapest. Shot by Miles Goodall and “Midway” cinematographer Robby Baumgartner and nicely scored by Lillie Rebecca McDonough, it's a handsomely crafted but ultimately average production.

Nonetheless, a rousing ode to resistance in the face of tyranny that plays especially well in this era of rising authoritarianism in the United States, even though the film doesn't make enough of an impression to stay with you very long after you've seen it, what does remain is the film's message. Thus, while Thomas and Pilcher struggle to cram everything they wanted to convey into its 123 minute running time, the movie works as an earnest tribute to these unsung, amazingly heroic, and yes, beautiful Baker Street Irregular female spies, that I for one, am now eager to learn much more about.

(Bio: A three-time national award-winning writer, when Jen Johans isn't reviewing movies at FilmIntuition.com or releasing new episodes of her podcast “Watch With Jen,” you can find her on Twitter @FilmIntuition.)

Kajillionaire - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Debra Winger, Richard Jenkins, and Evan Rachel Wood in “Kajillionaire”

July's 'Kajillionaire' pays out some eccentric riches

Written and directed by:  Miranda July

Starring:  Evan Rachel Wood, Richard Jenkins, Debra Winger, and Gina Rodriguez

“Kajillionaire” – Old Dolio Dyne (Evan Rachel Wood), 26, frequently sports a clashing green and blue tracksuit – a polyester fashion nightmare that was probably last seen in 1982 – and lives a happy life with her two loving, supportive parents. 

Well, scratch that last part. 

Theresa (Debra Winger) and Robert (Richard Jenkins) don’t exactly hold Old Dolio’s best interests in mind, either for the long term or in the immediate present.  First of all, they named their only child after a homeless man, which would probably trigger any capable family therapist into a blustery tizzy.  From there, Mom and Dad served hearty courses of emotional disinterest to their daughter for 2.6 decades, and their efforts haven’t gone unnoticed. 

Their kiddo carries her low self-worth through slumped shoulders and constant blank stares, and Old Dolio must have missed all the Miss Manners’ classes growing up.  Her Laurie Partridge-hairstyle lacks panache, and she speaks like Napoleon Dynamite’s long-lost, lethargic sister.   As one might expect, codependency with her folks is an on-going, dysfunctional issue, but perhaps she might break away and forge her fortune, in writer/director Miranda July’s eccentric comedy-crime picture “Kajillionaire”. 

Like July’s first two films, “Kajillionaire” is also set in everyday Los Angeles neighborhoods and filled with semi-neurotic characters trying to make it through their ordinary days.  Even though it’s never spoken, July seems to imply that her on-screen players are products of today’s warped, plastic environments rather than peculiar rebels battling against accommodating, suburban utopias. 

By 2020, it feels like 10 generations of maladjusted, defective history and straight-up bad luck have piled on the Dynes.  This trio of hucksters are always desperately searching for any dubious financial cracks in the system, primarily to scrape together rent money.   

They are three months behind (including the current rent) and need $1,500 and pronto, but hey, residing in the oddest apartment in Southern California has its monetary advantages.  The nature of their living space will not be revealed here, but the triad has to “run the buckets” as a daily chore, a bizarre and nearly unwinnable task that loses its charm after 10 seconds. 

Robert and Theresa don’t carry much charm either, as they conjure assorted schemes – like stealing mail inside their local post office or attempting to trade a massage gift certificate for cash - on their directionless days in sunny Los Angeles, but Jenkins is a joy to watch as the short-sided patriarch who is chockfull of bad ideas.  Meanwhile, Theresa is Robert’s chief enabler and willing contributor, and she possesses zero motherly instincts.  She’d meet any Old Dolio-resistance with tough love mom-speak like, “Just eat your liverwurst, and don’t ask for dessert, because there isn’t any.”

Theresa purposely falls into the background, and frankly, Winger is entirely unrecognizable, as the film’s makeup and hair departments strip her of any soft, feminine features and add 60 years of hard-living and ever-present, low-level stress. 

The Dynes broadly accept their hectic, makeshift ways, but a newcomer named Melanie Whitacre (Gina Rodriguez) – about Old Dolio’s age – stumbles into their world and shakes the foundation.  At first, she’s a 4 on the Richter scale, but her ultimate influence could rise to a 9.2. 

Still, the movie’s epicenter rides with Wood.  She carries the nimble physicality of Inspector Jacques Clouseau along with the mental gymnastics of a 20-something attempting to redefine herself against a lifetime of deeply-flawed parenting.  July immerses Old Dolio’s journey in her distinct filmmaker signatures, which fall somewhere between Wes Anderson and Charlie Kaufman.  She’s closer to the “Synecdoche, New York” (2008) director, but her work delivers more laughs and less anarchy.  Hey, that sounds like the right formula, because Old Dolio could use some chuckles and a little normalcy these days.

(3/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.

Win tickets to Tenet!

If you haven’t seen Tenet in theatres yet, we want to send you there. We're giving away a pair of tickets to see Tenet at your favorite theatre. To enter, just send an email to ScreeningTickets@phxfilm.com by Monday, September 28th at noon. The winner will receive a code from Fandango to use at the participating theatre of their choice.

You can find Harkins showtimes for Tenet by clicking here.

About Tenet

DIRECTOR Christopher Nolan

STARRING John David Washington, Robert Pattinson, Elizabeth Debicki, Dimple Kapadia, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Clémence Poésy, Himesh Patel, Michael Caine, Kenneth Branagh

SYNOPSIS Armed with only one word -Tenet- and fighting for the survival of the entire world, the Protagonist journeys through a twilight world of international espionage on a mission that will unfold in something beyond real-time. Not time travel - Inversion.

Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles - Movie Review by Jen Johans

Celebrity chef Yotam Ottolenghi in “Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles”

Director: Laura Gabbert

Cast: Yotam Ottolenghi, Dominique Ansel, Janice Wong, and Dinara Kasko.

Review by Jen Johans

The modern-day equivalent of turning water into wine, a great chef can walk into a kitchen, survey the ingredients, and turn a bunch of disparate nothings into something divine. But when they're forced to use both new ingredients and technology in foreign lands, even veteran chefs get stuck sometimes, as we learn in Laura Gabbert's eggshell light documentary, “Ottolenghi and the Cakes of Versailles.”

Watching an all-star lineup of international chefs work together to bring the desserts of Versailles to life for an exhibition at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, we experience a few moments of culinary peril in the seventy-five-minute trifle as batters keep separating or machines don't play well with American outlets. Still, with these masters in the kitchen, perfection, we're assured, is just one scene or flick of the whisk away.

A laudatory survey of the talented minds and creative techniques brought together by Jerusalem born, London based chef and influential cookbook author Yotam Ottolenghi to dazzle American palates, Gabbert's film is missing a true sense of focus. Beginning with Ottolenghi's call to action as he's invited to the Met to head up the launch of their newest exhibit, Ottolenghi casts the net out wide across the many chefs of Instagram to hire innovators from Ukraine to Singapore and beyond with the most specialized of skill sets.

Meeting innovative experts in their field, including “cronut” innovator Dominique Ansel and Dinara Kasko and more, Ottolenghi's crew delights the senses with ornately textured chocolate walls, complex Crayola bright jello molds, 3D architectural cakes, edible sculptures, and other confections sure to make your mouth water. Yet rather than endear us to each wizard one by one (including Ottolenghi), Gabbert serves them all up to us in a rush buffet style, all but ensuring that her film will play best to true foodies with more than just a cursory idea of who one or more of these figures are.

At its most intriguing when it spends time one-on-one with the chefs we're getting to know through their work, including the brilliant Janice Wong who found herself turning away from entrepreneurial endeavors and toward more artistic pursuits after a car crash left her with a completely different personality, I wish Gabbert would've stayed with the human story longer.

The film does layer in some background information about the palace of Versailles, which was the home to the French monarchy from the seventeenth to the eighteenth century and best personified by Marie Antoinette. However, unsure of the documentary's tone, when Gabbert suddenly starts to question the regal era that she and the chefs had been both celebrating and attempting to make modern once again for museum-goers late into "Ottolenghi," it feels like an ill-fitting afterthought.

Although it's perfectly pleasant, and places quite the emphasis on perfection in its richest and most sugary decadent form, there's just not enough holding this film together to make it a must-see. Culling together the freshest of ingredients, no matter how much Gabbert tries to mix it all up into an appealing pastry, in the end there's nothing to keep the batter from separating once more.

(Bio: A three-time national award-winning writer, when Jen Johans isn't reviewing movies at FilmIntuition.com or releasing new episodes of her podcast “Watch With Jen,” you can find her on Twitter @FilmIntuition.)

The Dark Divide - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

David Cross as Robert Pyle in “The Dark Divide”

‘The Dark Divide’ is a soulful, pleasant journey

Directed by:  Tom Putnam

Written by:  Tom Putnam, based on the book by Robert M. Pyle

Starring:  David Cross, Debra Messing, and David Koechner

“The Dark Divide” – “I’m actually searching for new species of (butterflies)…and moths.  In fact, three years ago, I discovered six new species, and that is a Xerces Society record.  I’ve authored several books on the subject.  It’s kind of a big deal, just so you know.” – Robert M. Pyle, Ph.D. (David Cross)

Dr. Robert M. Pyle - a lepidopterist and college professor - is a big deal.  It’s the summertime in 1995, and he’s about to embark on a new assignment.  You see, the Guggenheim offered him an $11,000 grant to take a 30-day expedition in search of new butterfly and moth species.  In one way, this golden insect-opportunity nestles perfectly in his comfort zone, but he faces a daunting task.  He’s supposed to explore the Gifford Pinchot National Forest, a massive 2,000 square-mile woodland in Southern Washington, but Dr. Pyle’s camping experience is minimal.  He’s had a few “overnights.”

Personally, the thought of sleeping outdoors for a month straight is causing this critic to curl up in the fetal position.  Well, our protagonist’s outlook is more optimistic!  He feels semi-ready for the challenge, so he thinks.

Writer/director Tom Putnam adapted Dr. Pyle’s book “Where Bigfoot Walks: Crossing the Dark Divide” to the big screen, and although the film includes several Sasquatch mentions (and possibly a sighting or meeting), the narrative is more about one man’s journey.

Cross – probably best known for “Mr. Show with Bob and David” (1995 – 1998), “Arrested Development” (2003 – 2019), and his standup act – steps into a welcome soft-spoken role as Robert.  Sporting a long – but well-groomed - gray beard that rivals David Letterman’s post-“The Late Show” chin and cheek locks, Cross carries a university-academic look quite well, along with a matching intellectual persona.  So much so that a few butterflies (or stylish moths) sit nearby or rest on his shoulder. 

Dr. Pyle could use a friend.  

Putnam sets most of the film in the great outdoors (and on location in the aforementioned forest), but he intermingles several key flashbacks during the first act that successfully establish acres of empathy for Robert.  We easily root for the good doctor, while his passage through the Northwest timberlands involves much more than cataloging his findings. 

He’s finding himself. 

Even though Cross pulls on some comedic threads - including camping mishaps (one inspired by “The Blair Witch Project” (1999)) and many scenes when he’s only wearing tighty whities and hiking boots - he’s generally playing it straight.  “The Dark Divide” isn’t a riotous comedy. 

It’s a soulful, pleasant journey.

A toe-tapping score - with smiling banjos, violins, and perhaps a piano - accompanies this gentle being, as he attempts to heal while making peace with the beyond-sprawling, unfamiliar terrain.  If you’ve seen Emilio Estevez’s “The Way” (2010), you might find that Robert’s on-screen story is a companion piece.  In the 2010 drama, Estevez’s dad Martin Sheen plays a man suffering from a loss and explores the El camino de Santiago, and the gorgeous landscapes from both movies offer warm companionship for our isolated leads. 

Like Tom (Sheen), Robert is not an outdoorsman, but our “The Dark Divide” hero appears prepared with his giant red backpack and oversized net for meeting new friends.  Straight away, Dr. Pyle would fit nicely into a Wes Anderson flick.  “Moonrise Kingdom” (2012) immediately comes to mind, but please note, the Khaki Scouts would probably mentor him.

Here, Robert is his guide, and hopefully, he’ll make it from Highway 12, over to Mount Adams, and to the Columbia Gorge.  Throughout the 101-minute runtime, Putnam seems to showcase all 2,000 square miles of the forest’s wondrous eye-candy, and the film might inspire you to grab a pack and a compass and head outside.  Perhaps, you’ll also pick up a butterfly net and discover a new species or two. 

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but studying butterflies and moths is a big deal. 

(2.5/4 stars)

Jeff – a member of the Phoenix Critics Circle – has penned film reviews since 2008, graduated from ASU’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism, and is a certified Rotten Tomatoes critic.  Follow Jeff and the Phoenix Film Festival on Twitter @MitchFilmCritic and @PhoenixFilmFest, respectively.