Spencer – Movie Review

Directed by:  Pablo Larrain

Written by:  Steven Knight

Starring:  Kristen Stewart, Timothy Spall, Sean Harris, and Sally Hawkins

Runtime:  111 minutes

‘Spencer’:  Larrain and Stewart bestow a royal and unconventional biopic

Diana Frances Spencer was born on July 1, 1961 in Norfolk, England, and - seemingly - every moment in her life was cast in a spotlight - the size of the London Eye - beginning on July 29, 1981.  On that date, she became Diana, Princess of Wales.  Yes, a wealth of her experiences are well-documented, but perhaps, not those moments behind palace walls.  

Well, instead of steering into typical cinematic practices, director Pablo Larrain and screenwriter Steven Knight take a noticeably unconventional approach with their Diana biopic, “Spencer”.  

Rather than gather a decades-long, chronological presentation, Larrain set his film over the 1991 Christmas holiday, about a year before Diana and Charles’ separation.  One could argue that “Spencer” is a slice of life picture because he captures Diana (Kristen Stewart) during ordinary events over three days.  He opens the door to the Royals’ Sandringham House and invites the audience to actively witness Princess Diana’s encounters with family members, staff, and long stretches of alone time.

(Note, if Larrain’s endeavor feels familiar, it should.  “Spencer” is a perfect companion piece with his 2016 biopic about Jacqueline Kennedy, “Jackie”, where Pablo has a similar avant-garde style.) 

Barely any of Diana’s Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and Boxing Day happenings bring any joy.  Instead, she roams in her room, down countless hallways, and on the grounds under constant duress and emotional claustrophobia, primarily due to Charles’ infidelity.  

Very early in the first act, Larrain offers two scenes of foreshadowing regarding Diana’s dilemma.  First, two or three squads of soldiers rush into the Sandringham House with several heavy boxes that – I don’t know – could contain grenade launchers, but the contents are – actually - quite harmless and welcoming!  The point is that the regal formalities are as severe as a Monday morning heart attack.  Second, Diana is lost while driving her sports car on Norfolk’s winding roads.  She stops for directions, turns to a group of strangers, and asks, “Where am I?”

Of course, this remark carries a double meaning. 

She’s filled with anxiety and sorrow and feels imprisoned, jailed by a thousand years of tradition, and Larrain feeds us nearly two hours of consternation with his camera almost always on Stewart and her portrayal of Diana.  

During a Sept. 3, 2021 Fred Film Radio interview, Larrain explains his version of the said events.  

“Of course, there’s a lot of fascination around Diana, and the Royal Family is very strict.  You don’t really know much, and that gives a lot of room for fiction.  It was a way to enter in a psychological space of her, and that crisis is surrounded by the people and the conflicts that are in that moment of her life.” Larrain says.   

So, “Spencer” isn’t exactly a slice of life but an interpretation of her state of mind during that time.  In short, the film takes liberties to communicate its views.  

How much is truth, and how much is fiction?  

“The Crown” (2016 – Present) devotees and history buffs could probably discern the differences through instantaneous analysis and commentary while sitting with you in a theatre.  Then again, if you wish to keep conversation to a minimum during your 111-minute movie experience, go solo or with a Diana novice.  Afterward, read the “’Spencer’ Movie vs. the True Story of Princess Diana” article on historyvshollywood.com to find a foundation after this dizzying confrontation.  

This uncomfortable story overflows with opportunities for empathy, as Diana is apparently without an ally, save her assistant Maggie (Sally Hawkins), a sympathetic head chef, Darren (Sean Harris), and naturally, her two young boys.  Otherwise, she can’t trust anyone, and the majestic walls have ears.  The movie also wisely spends valuable minutes by contrasting broader views through Diana’s one-on-one conversations with Darren, who shares his concern, versus Major Alistar Gregory’s (Timothy Spall) firm hand, including one enlightening third-act exchange that cements her ultimate stress.

Even though Pablo fills his picture with gorgeous imperial splendor (filmed at the Sandringham House and two German locations: the Schlosshotel Kronberg and the Schloss Marquardt), Jonny Greenwood’s decorative but also imposing classical string score, and Jacqueline Durran’s impressive and ornate costume designs, “Spencer” rises or falls with Stewart’s performance. 

Yes, Kristen looks the part.  Even though Diana stood at 5’ 10”, and Stewart is 5’ 5”, Kristen’s thin frame gives her the illusion of a taller stature on-screen.  She also receives a huge assist from the seven-person makeup team, who gets her hair precisely right.  Diana’s trademark hairstyle was as iconic as Jackie Kennedy’s, and right from the get-go – when we see her drive her sports car around Norfolk, UK – Stewart effectively establishes an initial acceptance as the princess just with a first look.  

Does she deliver Diana’s accent, cadence, and mannerisms with the utmost accurate precision?

I couldn’t tell you, but I fully believed Kristen was Diana due to her resemblance and demonstrative pulls into trauma through matter-of-fact, polite conversations with ominous undercurrents and sudden, unexpected rises in distress.  

“Spencer” is a challenging and traumatic time at the movies for both its aforementioned vision and content.  The screenplay and Stewart don’t shy away from Diana’s more private troubles, and except for 10 minutes of third-act flashbacks of happier years, the movie doesn’t leave this three-day retreat from hell.  She’s subsisting in a nightmare, and it truly feels that way, especially when Diana avoids – seemingly forever - attending two specific events.  Larrain also includes so many references of Princess Di’s ultimate demise that you’d swear Death – complete with a black-hooded robe and a scythe – is constantly following her throughout this country estate. 

Still, during this cinematic presentation, Diana is very much alive, but she vigorously looks for a way to live.   

Jeff’s ranking

3.5/4 stars

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Antlers - Movie Review

Dir: Scott Cooper

Starring: Keri Russell, Jesse Plemons, Graham Greene, Scott Haze, Amy Madigan, and Jeremy T. Thomas

1 h 39 m

Director Scott Cooper's newest film "Antlers" delves deep into issues of abuse and trauma while terrorizing a small gloomy town with an ancient entity who has an insatiable taste for human flesh. The mythological creature is the wendigo or windigo, a cultural entity originating from diverse Indigenous populations from the northeastern seaboard and continental interior around the Great Lakes. The wendigo is a protector of the Earth, a spirit of winter, and a symbol of the dangers of greed and selfishness that exist in the world. Cooper attempts to connect the Indigenous mythos with an introduction, spoken in Ojibwe, that describes how Mother Earth is being destroyed by those who walk with greed in their hearts. 

"Antlers" takes an Indigenous cultural cautionary tale and turns it into a brutal and gruesome horror movie. With guidance from Academy Award winner, Guillermo del Toro, Cooper and the team construct an impressive creature, coordinate great performances from a committed cast, but struggle to find a satisfying pathway to move the script into a more memorable experience.

In a foggy Oregon town, an ancient creature stalks an economically depressed community. The local coal mines have closed, and residents, like Frank Weaver (Scott Haze), use the abandoned spaces for cooking meth. The wendigo arrives to punish Frank, transforming him slowly into a zombie-like monster that craves human flesh. Frank's son Lucas (Jeremy T. Thomas), a traumatized 12-year old, is left to pick up the pieces of his already destroyed family life. Julia (Keri Russell), an English teacher at the local elementary school, notices the signs of abuse and some disturbing drawings in Lucas's journal. When Julia begins to investigate Lucas' home life, she discovers the disturbing truth.

"Antlers," based on the short story "The Quiet Boy" by Nick Antosca, does a decent job of building anticipation and tension with its beautifully, horrifically composed monster. With its horned head and disfigured body, the creature's design is made more intimidating by its physical ferocity. One jump scare is so vicious that you can almost feel it. And the sound design for its guttural screams underlined by a disturbing human crying voice is entirely unsettling.

The performances from the cast are also strong characteristics here. Keri Russell plays a concerned advocate with compassion but also resilience. Her character's story is forwarded with past trauma and abuse that is seen through flashbacks. Jesse Plemons does a fine job of being the somewhat bumbling, mostly overwhelmed town sheriff trying to make sense of the mangled bodies coming into the morgue. The standout, however, is Jeremy T. Thomas, who is entirely mesmerizing and haunting as the fractured Lucas.

The problematic piece for "Antlers" exists with its wandering narrative. The use of abuse and trauma as core character elements, one that identifies Julia as a trauma survivor of a horrific experience and displays the anguish felt by children dealing with a neglectful parent, is present but rarely explored beyond flashbacks. The connections aren't apparent when adding these elements of abuse to connect with the wendigo myth, which is introduced as a spirit protector of the land from the greed and selfishness of humanity.

More annoying is the representation, or lack thereof, of Indigenous people and culture throughout the film. The film begins with an Ojibwe spoken proverb, a setup that feels like Indigenous culture will be represented in some way. Unfortunately, the only Indigenous character shows up to explain the myth to non-Indigenous characters. This character is played by the wonderfully talented Graham Greene, who isn't offered anything more to do than 5-minutes of being the stereotypical magical Native American. A tired and offensive trope that still exists.

"Antlers" is a downtrodden horror film with a fantastic creature, good performances, and mediocre and culturally problematic script. Horror fans will enjoy the gore and scares, they are pretty good throughout, but the story has issues that even the best horror scenes can't fix.

Monte's Rating

2.50 out of 5.00

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Dune – Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Directed by:  Denis Villeneuve

Written by:  Denis Villeneuve, Jon Spaihts, and Eric Roth

Starring:  Timothee Chalamet, Oscar Isaac, Rebecca Ferguson, Zendaya, Jason Momoa, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgard, Sharon Duncan-Brewster, and Javier Bardem

Runtime:  155 minutes

‘Dune’ is a spectacular, procedural exercise

“My desert.  My Arrakis.  My Dune.” – Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Stellan Skarsgard)

The 2021 film adaptation of Frank Herbert’s seminal 1965 science-fiction novel is Denis Villeneuve’s “Dune”.   

The man proudly sports a resume bursting with provocative titles, including “Polytechnique” (2009), “Incendies” (2010), “Prisoners” (2013), “Enemy” (2013), “Sicario” (2015), and “Arrival” (2016).  He also bravely helmed the unthinkable, a “Blade Runner” sequel with “Blade Runner 2049” (2017).  

Ridley Scott (who directed the original “Blade Runner”) and Villeneuve were probably the most trusted directors to oversee such an undertaking at the time by staying true to the first movie and Philip K. Dick’s novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” and also extending the universe further into some unknown through line.  David Cronenberg may have been a third, but his films excel in small, narrow spaces.  Broad, sweeping epics are not his specialty.  Then again, look at arthouse director Chloe Zhao’s leap into the gigantic MCU undertaking “Eternals” (2021), although this critic hasn’t yet seen that movie.  Well, Villeneuve wasn’t a big-budget filmmaker in the beginning either, and “Sicario” and “Arrival” have two of the most haunting third acts in 21st-century cinema.  

The point is that Villeneuve is a gifted and proven director, and like “Blade Runner 2049”, he’s one of the few individuals who could embrace a new, big-screen version of Herbert’s novel. 

Decades ago, Alejandro Jodorowsky passionately attempted a “Dune” film, but the project folded (and by the way, see the extraordinary documentary “Jodorowsky’s Dune” (2013) to learn his story).  

Dune (1984)

David Lynch famously brought his “Dune” vision to the screen in 1984.  For those who haven’t read the book – including this critic – the 137-minute movie is a bizarre collection of characters, sets, endless references of spice, and constant internal dialogues that serve as narration.  Frankly, the voiceovers are probably needed to help escort novice viewers.  

As a side note, Princess Irulan’s (Virginia Madsen) opening introduction is vastly helpful.

Lynch’s film landed just a year after the enormously celebrated “Return of the Jedi” (1983), the conclusion of George Lucas’ first trilogy.  General movie audiences were hungry for new swashbuckling sci-fi, but “Dune” was not it, as the movie feels like Cronenberg’s “Naked Lunch” (1991) meets an outer space acid trip.  

Yes, another Cronenberg mention, and Jodorowsky said he wanted his “Dune” to be “a film that gives LSD hallucinations without taking LSD.”  In other words, the aforementioned analogy fits. 

(Note:  Director John Harrison also made “Frank Herbert’s Dune” (2000), a 4-hour 25-minute mini-series for television, but I have not seen it.)

Well, here we are on Earth in 2021, 56 years after Herbert’s novel, 37 after Lynch’s film, 21 after Harrison’s mini-series, and one year after a COVID-19 delay, Villeneuve’s “Dune” arrives in theatres and on HBO Max.  

What’s the verdict?

“Dune” is profoundly procedural.  The film has pacing issues, and it will spur some sincere questions about its logic.  On the other hand, this 165 million dollar celluloid creation offers a spectacular visual experience that plucks moviegoers from their daily physical and emotional chores, work emails, family responsibilities, constant social media messaging, COVID fears, and consumer-driven pressures to an unfamiliar, otherworldly place.  

Accustomed and everyday rules don’t apply.  

The year is 10191.  

A substance dubbed spice is the most coveted commodity in the universe because it’s essential for interstellar travel.  Spice – also named Spice Melange - is only found on one planet, Arrakis, a desolate, desert rock where scorching temperatures fall between unbearable and unlivable.  If that wasn’t rough enough, giant human-sucking worms - that are a couple of hundred yards long - could rumble from the sand and swallow you up in one bite.  

The Freman (who live below the surface) live on Arrakis, and the dark orange spice – which looks like sand - seems to be everywhere.  Hey, Arrakis has plenty of beaches, but leave your surfboards at home.  You won’t find an ocean, but the spice turns the Freman people’s eyes aqua blue. 

Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac), his wife Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson), and their son Paul (Timothee Chalamet) live on Caladan, a lush green and blue planet, and they found a nice spot to plant their roots.  Think Dana Point, Calif. meets the Scottish Highlands.  This royal family enjoys a large military, spaceships, and all sorts of creature comforts.  The men wear dapper, stylish peacoats, and the women sometimes don black goth hoods that Darth Sidious (from “Star Wars”) would emphatically endorse.  On other occasions, they sport ceremonial garb with 20 yards of flowing flamboyant scarves that Lady Gaga would die for.  Life couldn’t be better for Duke Leto, Lady Jessica, and Paul, but the Emperor requests that The House of Atreides move to Arrakis and take over spice mining from the House Harkonnen.  

Baron Vladimir Harkonnen – the HH leader - is an overweight, malevolent albino creep who bathes in a weirdo tarpit, and his loyal subjects and soldiers wear black.  Sure, the Baron won’t mind that the good Duke and The House of Atreides will oversee and collect the most crucial ingredient in the universe.  

What could go wrong?

Oh, one other thing, Paul has a supercharged ESP.  He’s training to use his “voice”, which will command others to follow his instructions blindly.  It pseudo-works like The Force (again, from “Star Wars”), but he also sees haunting premonitions, including visions of a Freman woman (Zendaya) he never met.

There you have it.  

Including the Emperor’s folks, the movie features four groups of people embroiled in an intergalactic story of capitalism, contracts, and colonialism.  The film is a political chess game, albeit with just one or two moves stretching over 155 minutes.  Politics, finance, and operations capture the forefront, while Paul’s journey towards enlightenment hovers just below.  

Massive stakes are in play, and to wholly embrace them, Villeneuve divided the book into two parts.  This film is only Part One, and compared to Lynch’s crowded, sometimes kinetic effort, Villeneuve gives his version time to let the narrative breathe.  

The endpoint of his 2-hour 35-minute picture lands at 1984 movie’s 1-hour 28-minute mark.  We march at a leisurely pace in 2021.  

Here are a few examples that help stretch out the film:  

Paul contemplates his future alone in his room on more than one occasion.

Sweeping, ceremonial welcoming parties meet two spaceship landings.

Paul and Jessica occupy precious screen time scouring the desert in the third act.  

Villeneuve bequeaths a golden opportunity for moviegoers to sit back and absorb it all, but he also offers space.  Each room inside the featured compounds on Caladan and Arrakis might be 1,500 sq. ft.  Could you imagine the real estate prices in the 102nd century?  

Cinematographer Greg Fraser spends plenty of time outside on Arrakis and effectively captures the harsh brutality of the place.  He and Villeneuve filmed in Jordan and the United Arab Emirates.  It doesn’t feel like Paul and Lady Jessica are hiking all over a sound stage, and only a CGI mouse is their sole companion out in the Middle East.  

The special effects are top-notch, especially during an explosive firefight that lights up the night sky, as the differences between 1984 technology and 2021 equate to an Atari 2600 and a Sony PlayStation PS5.  There’s just no comparison, and fans of the novel and 1984 film will gratefully and gleefully welcome this movie’s visual joy and wonder.  

If you decide to see Denis’ “Dune”, catch it on the big screen (if you feel safe in theatres) to live through the spectacle of it all, including Hans Zimmer’s rumbling score, which will vibrate your innards during a couple of scenes.  That’s a good thing, I think. 

What’s not so great is - sometimes - the music overshadows conversations, and a movie colleague commented after an October theatre screening that she’d rewatch the film on HBO Max with subtitles.

Smart thinking!  

So, if you commit to “Dune” (2021), prepare to watch it twice.  I’m sure diehard fans and brand new ones will pledge to see it many more times, but at least one viewing with subtitles is required.

“Dune: Part Two” is also required.  Looking at the entire story, yes, Villeneuve landed on an appropriate spot to end Part One, but it’s still an unsatisfying and underwhelming one.

Unfortunately, with much need for exposition, “Dune” feels like a bureaucratic exercise or an experiment.  Except for Jason Momoa’s Duncan Idaho, the entire film is devoid of any humor.  Sure, that’s not the point with “Dune”, but the movie failed to trigger – at least from my perspective – any emotions (that weren’t special effects-driven), save for one first-act scene when Lady Jessica actively displays her alarm over Paul’s safety.   

An all-star cast, including Isaac, Ferguson, Skarsgard, Momoa, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin, Charlotte Rampling, David Dastmalchian, and Dave Bautista amply offer their capable services, and it’s pleasing to see so many admirable actors in this colossal project.  Chalamet is a fine casting choice as Paul.  Early in the first act, he’s briefly seen without his shirt, which will appease his adoring fans, but his slim appearance highlights Paul’s underdog vulnerability. 

The 1984 film attracted considerable talent too.  That’s a tribute to the directors and the source material.  Herbert’s book was published in the mid-60s, so the man deserves heaping praise for his out-of-this-world vision. 

Still, while watching “Dune” (2021), some random questions appear.  

When the script stresses spice’s importance throughout the film, why do we only see brief glimpses of interstellar travel?

Why does Zimmer repeatedly include bothersome, screeching chants when sudden discoveries occur?  

Why can Paul and Jessica sometimes stride normally in the desert but on other occasions, they perform a special walk to avoid the worms?  

Why do Gurney (Brolin), Duncan (Momoa), and hundreds of others even bother turning on their shields when an enemy’s blade cuts right through the protection like a knife slicing a stick of warm butter?  

Why are armies – in the year 10191 with the technology to build and fly spaceships and helicopters (that move like dragonflies) – using swords and knives during hand-to-hand combat?

These aren’t monumental points, but they may pull you out of the intended 2.5-hour trance.

Nonetheless, Villeneuve’s “Dune” is a stunning technological achievement, and millions and millions of fans will claim this film as their “Dune” too.  

I’m sorry to report that it’s not this critic’s “Dune”, but neither was the 1984 movie.  Oh well, plunk me on Arrakis with a giant worm nearby, if makes you feel better.

Jeff’s ranking

2/4 stars

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Dune - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Dir: Denis Villeneuve

Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Rebecca Ferguson, Oscar Isaac, Josh Brolin, Jason Mamoa, Sharon Duncan-Brewster, Javier Bardem, Dave Bautista, Charlotte Rampling, Stellan Skarsgård, and Zendeya

2 h 35 m

Author Frank Herbert wrote the seminal science fiction classic "Dune" in 1965, and it has influenced fantastic tales throughout cinema ever since. The introduction of Robert Zemeckis' 1997 film "Contact" is directly reconstructed from Herbert's novel. The concept work for the infamous Alejandro Jodoworsky cinematic version of "Dune" influenced "Alien" and "Blade Runner." And, perhaps, the most recognizable imitator of the Herbert novel is George Lucas' "Star Wars" saga. It's undeniable that the meticulous and intricate world Herbert weaved with themes of colonialism, ecology, religion, rebellions, all tied together in a fight over the fate of humanity between warriors, witches, and nobles, is an enormous undertaking. 

Filmmaker Denis Villeneuve and Frank Herbert's "Dune" is a beautiful, perfect arrangement of artist and artwork. Villeneuve does not disappoint in this epic and elegant demonstration of pure cinematic vision. The depth of detail in the richly composed scenes of "Dune" is beautiful to watch. Though, amidst the stunning scenery of Villeneuve's science fiction drama is a story that struggles to find the emotion between the characters and the circumstances they face, most glaringly with the composition of the teenage hero messiah Paul Atreides. Denis Villeneuve's "Dune" is epic, elegant, and at times emotionless. 

The year is 10191. Paul Atreides (Timothée Chalamet), a brilliant and gifted young man, has visions of a destiny he doesn't completely understand. Born into the noble House Atreides, Paul's parents, Duke Leto Atreides (Oscar Isaac) and Lady Jessica (Rebecca Ferguson) are reassigned to Planet Arrakis to take over operations. Arrakis is a harsh desert environment mined for a valuable resource called "spice" and patrolled by giant sandworms. It is inhabited by a group of native people known as the Fremen. They have fought colonizers their entire life. They believe that Paul is the prophesized "Muad' Dib," the messiah that will lead the Fremen to freedom. 

The adaptation from the literary descriptions to the cinematic vision of the world of "Dune" is a revelation. Denis Villeneuve, along with cinematographer Greig Fraser and production designer Patrice Vermette, has meticulously crafted an introduction to a science fiction epic that is beautifully composed and elegantly detailed. The costumes are visually dynamic, the environments are richly textured, and the special effects are equally subtle and bold in their crafting of floating grains of sand and massive sand creatures that cannot be contained even by an IMAX screen. It's a confident and clear vision of filmmaking from a true cinema auteur. 

The story is dense and convoluted with familial, political, and spiritual themes. It's not your average hero's journey, even if it might look like it from afar. Herbert's mistrust of authoritarian rule from the novels is present in Villeneuve's story but more contemplative for the central character Paul Atreides. Paul struggles with the ideas and insights about his destiny. Will he take over as ruling Duke of Atreides? Will he do the bidding of his mother's lineage of spiritual influencers known as the Bene Gesserit? Or, will he embrace the speculation that he is the "Chosen One?" These questions run deep within the narrative introduction of "Dune." 

However, the slight problem with Villeneuve's version of "Dune" exists in the composition of the character core to the questions needing answers. Timothée Chalamet, who has been consistently good at playing all types of characters, struggles to convey the traits of a teenage boy tasked with carrying more than a few heavy burdens. In moments, Chalamet displays the confidence necessary to show a young man transitioning quickly into adulthood. In other, more emotionally sensitive moments, the performance feels restrained to surface-level stares and glares. There is room for this character to grow; this is only part one of Villeneuve's "Dune" after all. 

"Dune" captures the visual grandeur and wonderment that Frank Herbert described in his science fiction myth. While the film struggles to balance its stunning visual charms and complex narrative deliberations, it is still an awe-inducing cinematic experience. Here's hoping that Denis Villeneuve has the opportunity to complete this fascinating, fantastical space saga. 

Monte's Rating

3.50 out of 5.00

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Ron’s Gone Wrong – Movie Review

Directed by:  Sarah Smith, Jean-Philippe Vine, and Octavio E. Rodriguez

Written by:  Sarah Smith and Peter Baynham

Starring:  Jack Dylan Grazer, Zach Galifianakis, Ed Helms, and Olivia Colman

Runtime:  106 minutes

‘Ron’s Gone Wrong’ serves up laughs and social media warnings

“I was watching ‘Her’ by Spike Jonze, and I thought, ‘I need to make a version of this movie for my 3-year-old who’s getting lost in the iPad,’” co-director/co-writer Sarah Smith says in an Oct. 15, 2021 interview with Cinemark.

Smith, along with co-directors Jean-Philippe Vine and Octavio E. Rodriguez, made a film, and thankfully, they did not feature toddlers as their lead and supporting characters.

Whew!  

Instead, their movie is a middle-school animated adventure, and our hero is Barney Pudowski (Jack Dylan Grazer).

He’s a swell kid who attends Nonsuch Middle School, but he doesn’t have any close friends, and geez, no one showed up at his birthday party.  To make matters worse, everyone but Master Pudowski has the latest electronic gadget, a B-Bot!

Back in the day, how many of us felt left out because “everyone else” had (warning, this critic is dating himself in a couple of places) Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, a ColecoVision, Barbie’s Dreamhouse, a cell phone, or a car?  

If so, you can relate to Barney’s anxiety. 

Look, you might not have been the ONLY teenager without a phone during middle school, but here, Barney is the sole B-Bot-less adolescent in town.  

“You need a B-Bot to have a social life?” his dad, Graham (Ed Helms), asks.

“Yea, kind of, Dad,” Barney replies.

Okay, what’s a B-Bot?  

A B-Bot resembles a 2-foot Weeble (again, dating myself), and it’s an interactive device that works like (an) Alexa or Siri.  It has all of your preferences, likes, and favorites.  The difference is that your B-Bot will roll along – and carry on conversations - with you 24/7.  Well, except during class, but it’s on at school recess!

And you thought a smartphone sucked up all of your child’s time?  

Even though Barney’s grandmother (Olivia Colman) and widower dad didn’t get his most-coveted wish for his fiesta, they secured a defective one later that evening.  On the following day, he met HIS B-Bot!

Yahoo!   

The issue is that this particular one is missing some necessary code.  This whitish/translucent Tic Tac doesn’t possess flashing colors or patterns or contain any of Barney’s favs.  In other words, he’s offline or just a bit off.  For instance, he refers to Barney as “Insert Registered Name”.  Say what?  The machine is a clean slate and takes every word Barney or anyone else says literally….in the most verbatim sense.

Look, this B-bot – who is later named Ron – is just different!

Smith, Vine, Rodriguez, and co-writer Peter Baynham embrace the seemingly timeless (and repetitive) cinematic theme of a teenage misfit attempting to find his way and marry it with a more recent one:  too much reliance on (and the exponential reach of) social media.  

“You hear all the time your kids (are) going through friendship issues, and you realize there’s this new playground they’re going into, and you can’t go with them and hold their hand and advise them.  I thought we needed to make a movie where an iPad can become an animated character,” Smith says in the aforementioned Cinemark interview. 

Since Ron doesn’t possess the programming to mirror and (placate to) Barney’s every predisposed whim, the two find themselves working hard to know one another.  For every other teen-gizmo paring, the human counterparts simply lean on their electronic and plastic buddies as friendly Internet tools.  

In Barney and Ron’s case, however, they slowly walk through the organic process of becoming buds.  

Since Ron was “born yesterday”, Zach Galifianakis might be the perfect comedic actor to play Ron.  His character approaches nearly everything with childlike wonder and curiosity, and Galifianakis showcased this on-screen persona as Alan in “The Hangover” (2009) and its sequels.  Although Ron isn’t hoping to ship Barney off to “Las Vegas, looking for strippers and cocaine.”  

No, this is a PG-rated film all the way, and Ron hopes to build an affable bond with Barney and help him make other friends, ones in person.

Set in a picturesque – and at times, quite stunning - mid-sized town, nestled in a valley of buttes and pines (Bend, Ore., perhaps?), Smith, Vine, and Rodriguez create a robust but remote locale that serves as Barney’s physical world.  The movie offers natural boundaries that force Barney to look towards neighbors, classmates, and families. 

Indeed, “Ron’s Gone Wrong” resonates with some authentic teaching moments about the negative impacts that social media imprints on kids, in addition to the comic relief that Galfianakis definitely and effectively delivers here.

The problem is the screenplay wanders too much during the second half of the 106-minute runtime.  For instance, Barney and Ron take an unnecessary detour into the wilderness.  The story also burns calories with the tired scenario of “We were friends in elementary school, so what happened?”-theme and a silly cloak and dagger operation at the B-Bot company, Bubble, which might as well double as Google or Apple.  

Yes, the cartoonish rivalry between Bubble CEO Andrew Morris (Rob Delaney) – who’s a Steve Jobs lookalike – and B-Bot creator Marc Weidell (Justice Smith) explores real-life ethical dilemmas, but the long-winded literal and figurative maze late in the third act becomes tiring.  

“Ron’s Gone Wrong” might be better served with a tighter, more focused tale.  Still, the film nicely balances its tones of hijinks, heart, and an authentic warning about our current daily (or hourly) personal use of social media and the data collected.

That said, let’s post this review on social media, pronto!    

Jeff’s ranking

2.5/4 stars

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Halloween Kills - Movie Review

Dir: David Gordon Green

Starring: Jamie Lee Curtis, Judy Greer, Andi Matichak, Thomas Mann, Will Patton, Dylan Arnold, Kyle Richards, Nancy Stephens, Robert Longstreet, and Anthony Michael Hall

1 h 46 m

"Let it burn!" These are the words Laurie Strode, the babysitter who battled Michael Myers back in 1978, screams at passing firetrucks. Laurie, who waited 40 years for Myers to return to Haddonfield, trapped Michael inside the basement of her compound and set the whole place on fire, saving her daughter and granddaughter in the process. 

David Gordon Green's sequel, "Halloween Kills, takes a different route than the rebooted first film. Taking the emphasis away from the character study of the resilient and traumatized Laurie Strode, played with ferocity by Jamie Lee Curtis in the first film, and refocusing on the genre's slasher intentions. Green eliminates suspense in favor of brutality, which is violent, bloody, and gory, and shifts the perspective from Laurie's plan for closure against Michael Myers onto other survivors from that fateful Halloween night in 1978. Specifically, an angry mob, led by Tommy Doyle, a commanding Anthony Michael Hall, are planning a frenzied hunting party searching for the Boogeyman who still haunts their beloved Haddonfield. 

When "Halloween Kills" opens, it's still Halloween night, and Michael Myers has survived, brutally slaying the group of firemen who freed him from the blazing trap set by Laurie, who is now recovering in the local hospital after her encounter. Her daughter Karen (Judy Greer) and granddaughter Allyson (Andi Matichak) are also worse for wear. 

At the same time, the surviving members of Michael's carnage in 1978 meet at a local dive bar. Tommy Doyle (Anthony Michael Hall) and Lindsey Wallace (Kyle Richards), the kids Laurie babysat as a teenager, meet with former nurse Marion Chambers (Nancy Stephens) and grown-up bully Lonnie Elam (Robert Longstreet). Phones begin to chime, and a television news alert interrupts the Halloween festivities as word breaks that Michael Myers has escaped and returned to continue his hometown rampage in Haddonfield. Tommy, a baseball bat in hand, organizes a gang of locals to hunt the Boogeyman down once and for all, fiercely proclaiming "evil dies tonight." 

Director David Gordon Green aggressively shifts tone, substituting the suspenseful scares and menace of the first film for a more brutal and horrific approach. While there is nothing wrong with manipulating genre expectations, especially with a franchise that has existed for more than 40 years, Green also diverts from the core emotional character of the Halloween myth, Laurie Strode. For much of "Halloween Kills," Laurie is sidelined to the confines of a hospital bed. And when she finally regains consciousness, the character is left with a one-note emotion of guilt that isn't explored. 

In place of Laurie, the film focuses much of its time on Tommy Doyle and the crowd of traumatized townsfolk who grow more aggressive with every dimwitted decision they make. There are hints of commentary surrounding mob mentality and the impact one strong voice can make in a crowd of scared individuals; one scene involving another escaped inmate brings these themes closest to a complete emotion. However, the narrative rarely offers the time between kills to examine these pieces. 

What is very clear about "Halloween Kills" is the composition of Michael Myers. The near superhuman monster has one purpose, destruction. For the survivors of Michael's past mayhem, who are traumatized, scared, and angry, their connection with The Shape is personal and affecting. For Michael, he barely registers any relationship to his past victims; this is shown through the sudden, forceful, and vicious acts of violence committed against anyone who gets in Michael's way. These gory special effects-driven scenes are sure to have the horror fans "oohing" and "aahing" with glee.

It is well known that "Halloween Kills" is not the finale for this franchise, which belongs to the forthcoming and aptly titled "Halloween Ends." David Gordon Green attempts to do something different with this sequel; while the heightened special effects viscera and nostalgic community of characters bring chaos to the drama, the absence of Laurie Strode for much of the film turns Michael Myers into an unstoppable machine and ultimately makes this film feel like a placeholder, a side story of Michael's night of terror until Laurie meets him face to face one final time. 

Monte's Rating

2.75 out of 5.00

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Mass – Movie Review

Written and directed by:  Fran Kranz

Starring:  Jason Isaacs, Martha Plimpton, Reed Birney, and Ann Dowd

Runtime:  110 minutes

‘Mass’ bravely dives into deep, emotional places in one confined space

Here’s my best advice to approach “Mass”, writer/director Fran Kranz’s first film.  

Don’t watch the trailer.

This gripping, conversational drama is almost entirely set in one location.  The four main characters confront a painful, deeply personal topic, one that has haunted them for years, but don’t ask a friend, sibling, your local movie critic, or the Internet the key matter that Jay (Jason Isaacs), Gail (Martha Plimpton), Linda (Ann Dowd), and Richard (Reed Birney) debate.  

During an Oct. 10 interview with Collider, Kranz says, “Look, it has been a lot.  It’s been emotional.  It was emotional writing it.  It was emotional making it, and it’s emotional talking about it.  But I had no choice.  This thing took over my life.  I didn’t start doing the research because I wanted to make a movie.  I started reading about these things because I was upset.”

Now, walking into Kranz’s film, knowing the issue that the four adults discuss won’t ruin the experience, like say, discovering that Malcolm Grove (Bruce Willis) is a ghost prior to watching “The Sixth Sense” (1999), but I didn’t see or hear the contents of “Mass” beforehand, and I’m grateful.   

Nearly the entire film – that feels like a play with a brief prologue followed by one continuous act – takes place in an ordinary room, an unassuming spot with crème-colored walls.  A white, circular plastic table (that you might pick up at Costco or Target) sits in the middle and four chairs rest around the synthetic edges. 

It’s a quiet locale inside an Episcopal church, and the only potential for disturbances are piano and choir practices.  Fortunately, nothing outside this confined but comfortable setting should interfere with the discussion between four people, a married couple and a divorced one.  

They are in their 50s or 60s, and Jay and Gail will meet with Richard and Linda under apprehensive, uncomfortable circumstances.  

Before reaching the church, Jay and Gail sit in their parked car, and cinematographer Ryan Jackson-Healy effectively captures the outdoor setting, a crisp and sunny fall afternoon in Sun Valley, Idaho.  The couple dresses like they might stop by a pumpkin farm afterward, but today is no holiday. 

Gail asks, “What the hell are we doing here?”

When everyone arrives at the church, awkward feelings accompany them.  Linda makes a kind gesture by bringing flowers, but this considerate thought becomes a minor burden.  Our eyes gaze at the aforementioned gift, and placing it at the center of the table creates a distraction.  

A bother, actually.  

At this point, the screenplay does not offer reasons for the consternation, and via this critic’s watch, we don’t receive a direct answer until 30 minutes into the movie.  We realize that anxiety runs high, like if someone begrudgingly reconnects with an estranged parent for coffee or confronts a high school bully at a 10-year reunion. 

Here, the stakes are infinitely raised, and Kendra (Michelle N. Carter), a no-nonsense counselor, mentions that she’s worked with Jay and Gail (or perhaps all four principals) for six years.  

“Mass” is a gut-wrenching tale that may stick with you for eons, and it heavily leans on its masterclass actors and nuanced script.  Nuanced and circular because the couples face a dinosaur-sized elephant when entering the room.  They carefully tiptoe, tread, leap, jump, and fall back when approaching the said imposing article throughout the 110-minute runtime.  

Jay and Gail look across the table and sometimes see enemies, although Richard and Linda are not foes by wishful design.  Meanwhile, the said alleged antagonists are defensive, shamed, and face the potential for verbal prosecution.  

However, no villains are present in this room.

They are all sequestered in a space for a little less than two hours, as the movie runs in real-time.  Kranz, Jackson-Healy, and their camera sit in this nondescript chamber as if they are invisible.  They film the four leads with individual close-ups or size them up through their natural pairings and don’t get fancy with dissolves, pans, or overhead shots.  

Darren Morze composed music for the film, but did he include compositions during our time inside the room?  I’ve seen the movie twice and don’t recall one single solitary note.  Either because none existed, or the discourse so riveted me, I tuned out everything else.

Kranz thankfully keeps it simple, so our attention is squarely focused on what his characters say because, quite frankly, nothing else matters. 

Pleasantries and polite inquiry commence but then organically morph into deeper inquisitions and raw feelings.  These grown-ups attempt civil exchanges and hope to keep visceral emotions at bay, but that’s ultimately impossible. 

Hopeful pragmatism holds, cracks, breaks, and occasionally shatters, but the prospect for answers exists.  More importantly, the potential for healing may happen over a couple of hours. 

“Healing is more about accepting the pain and finding a way to peacefully co-exist with it.  Our life doesn’t have to end where the pain begins, but rather, it is where we start to mend.”  - Jaeda DeWalt 

Jay, Gail, Richard, and Linda will never fully mend, but they may stitch together fragments of recovery through this challenging connection.  Still, they and we will need time, space, and plenty of tissues to recuperate.

Dear Academy, please consider multiple Oscar nominations, including Best Picture. 

Jeff’s ranking

4/4 stars

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The Velvet Underground - Movie Review

Director: Todd Haynes

Cast: Lou Reed, John Cale, Maureen Ann Tucker, & Sterling Morrison

By Jen Johans

Dig the scene. In the middle of the 1960s, a former New York Polish wedding and social hall nicknamed The Dom could for weeks at a time be the musical residency of The Velvet Underground as they played night after night with the experimental films of Andy Warhol and company projected larger-than-life on the wall behind them. Colorful, spinning psychedelic lights that bounced off surfaces in all directions were usually operated by the first person who volunteered when Warhol asked if anyone knew how to work the equipment. Occasionally this led to mishaps where bulbs broke and spotlights fell from the balcony when they were operated by someone with more confidence and amphetamines than any real technical know-how. 

Ignoring this, on the ballroom floor below, patrons danced – not just people, but a wide cross-section of East Coasters. Filling The Dom, you could find bikers, drag queens, juvenile delinquents, Harvard professors, art collectors, poets, leftover Beats who hadn't gone west to San Francisco, the kind of arty junkies who flooded in and out of The Factory throughout the decade, future “Chelsea Girls,” as well as Warhol's influential friends like Jackie Kennedy and Walter Cronkite. On a given evening, they'd be there side-by-side, milling and dancing next to some broken lights, next to someone with broken dreams, listening to some intentionally broken chords as they struggled not to break amid the overwhelm of polka dots, spirals, mazes, and avant-garde imagery going on around them.

It was a scene of too much too-muchness. But strip away the visual spectacle and "anti-elite elite" hobnobbing, just focus on the sound, and the same can be said for the music of the Underground. A sort of dissonant bubble-gum rockabilly filled with viola strings that sounded like saws, drums straight out of Bo Diddley, the droning, deliberate delivery of guest vocalist Nico, a searing guitar, and stream-of-consciousness lyrics about drugs, sex, and the New York streets outside, the sound alone was brutal, beautiful, bold, brilliant, and played on all the senses at once. 

With so much to take in, is it any wonder it didn't last? Is it any wonder it was chaos? And is it any wonder that it still sounds so fresh – so much like the act of creativity in process – that it still inspires us fifty-five years later?

Seeking to not only encapsulate and explore the roots and history of both the band and the scene from the people who lived to tell the tale but also do so in a way that brings a night at The Dom or The Factory to viewers watching it today, with “The Velvet Underground,” director Todd Haynes has released his first full-length musical documentary. And fittingly, especially from a man who once told the Karen Carpenter story with Barbie dolls and made the nonlinear, arty film “I'm Not There” about Bob Dylan, it's much more avant-garde than it is VH1 Behind the Music.

It opens with dueling, yet complementary narratives of The Velvet Underground's own version of Wilson and Love, Lennon and McCartney, Jagger and Richards, and Page and Plant. In Haynes' film, portraits of the band's eventual founders Lou Reed and John Cale as emotionally and creatively frustrated young artists emerge, which foreshadow both their future promise as well as the way that their two titanic personalities will only temporarily harmonize in mutual dissonance before they can hold that note no longer.

Paying the most attention to those two figures, with the scales tipping more in favor of the man who was with the band the longest in Reed, the documentary chronicles the way they came with ample baggage from vastly different backgrounds before impossibly finding one another in New York. Reed, then working as a fast songwriter and musician for hire, first collaborated with the Welsh-born multi-instrumentalist on an insanely catchy forgotten dance single called “The Ostrich,” but rather than a one-off thing, their passion for improvisational composition bonded the two right from the start.

While Reed, who sought inspiration in poets like Ginsberg and Rimbaud, longed to translate his raw, gritty, profane poetry into rock hits in a way similar to The Rolling Stones, Cale loved experimenting with new modes of expression using tones, drones, and dissonance, and spent his time studying with the avant-garde musicians of the day. Bonded by their otherness, their loathing of the mainstream, and determination to go against the status quo, once they got together with guitarist Sterling Morrison, and drummer Maureen “Mo” Tucker (replacing Angus MacLise), they sought to bring high art to the gutter, and still make it something people wanted to hear, whether they could dance to it or not.

From the in-name-only Warhol produced “Banana Album” with Nico to Reed eventually firing Warhol (without the band's input) so they could go on to push the limits even further with “White Light/White Heat” and more, this lineup was as revelatory as it was combustible.

Ego, attitudes, communication breakdown, and infighting – all accelerated by drugs, insecurity, posturing, jealousy, uncertainty, and the era – in the film, we're given an engrossing “he said," "she heard," "I think," "you recall,” overview of the band. And along the way, Haynes worries less about fact-checking, follow-ups, or sourcing certain claims than he does in making his “Velvet Underground” vibrate on a darkly intoxicating, dissonant frequency that we might've expected to come from Cale's viola or Morrison's guitar.

Like something straight out of The Dom, it's filled with art, imagery, and colorful flashing lights to the point that it should come with a warning for those with epilepsy or migraine light sensitivity. While admittedly, there are times I longed for more details about certain songs (“Heroin” gets the lion's share of the screen-time) as well as the post-Nico and Cale albums or more analysis of the personnel changes, it's all told with so much affection, color, and vigor that it immediately draws you in with its too much too-muchness. An exhaustively covered period in music and pop culture journalism, Haynes' version of the events adds more humanity, humor, and warmth to the proceedings than one might expect when contrasted by the coolly detached handling of the Velvets in past docs.

Feeling like we're with the band rather than just dryly reverential of Warhol, Cale, or Reed, there are no villains in “The Velvet Underground.” To this end, I applaud the decision here to invite Reed's sister to weigh in about the often biased chronicling of the shock treatment era in her brother's adolescence. Similarly, the film gives Nico more respect as a poet and professional than she normally receives, and treats Warhol as more of a friend, facilitator, and minor figure rather than the driving force behind the band, in a way that feels right and overdue. Also welcome is the way Haynes refuses to gloss over the drugs or the misogyny of The Factory that treated women as currency where their value came only in their physical appearance. Even if the latter gets a brief mention, it's reassuring that he's unwilling to simply romanticize all things Warhol as other filmmakers have done in the past and instead allow some of the degradation and darkness – incidentally the two things Reed liked in sex – to rightfully permeate this chronicling of events.

A labor of love by a filmmaker who's so enamored of the band and era that one of his earliest big studio movies for Miramax was the unfairly maligned glam rock opus “Velvet Goldmine,” “The Velvet Underground” is a documentary that, in tribute to its subject, is as artful as a film as it is experimental. Neither as dryly objective as a more academically minded PBS doc nor as full of insider-only information that those unfamiliar with the band won't still be able to appreciate, it's a seductive mix of both approaches plus something wholly its own. And to Haynes' great credit, “The Velvet Underground” plays halfway between a night of excess and broken glass at The Dom and the after-party where you leave the lights and the dance floor behind you to just hang – somewhere in NY, somewhere underground, somewhere dangerous – with the band.

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Warrior Spirit – Movie Review

Directed by:  Landon Dyksterhouse

Starring:  Nicco Montano, Steve Hanna, Clint Wattenberg, and Dr. Charlsey McDonald

Runtime:  94 minutes

‘Warrior Spirit’: This initially straightforward doc turns into an ominous cautionary tale

Nicco Montano is a woman of firsts.  At 28 years young, on Dec. 1, 2017, she won the UFC Women’s Flyweight Championship.  On that day, she became that division’s premiere female UFC champion and the organization’s first Native titleholder.

Wow.

In the documentary “Warrior Spirit”, Nicco - an admirable, inspirational role model with Navajo roots - arrives at her alma mater, Chinle High School in Chinle, Ariz., and speaks at the 2018 graduation ceremony.  Students, parents, and teachers give her a rock-star welcome, and she reciprocates. 

“Thank you, my friends, family, and my people.  I love you,” Nicco says. 

Montano was born in Lukachukai, Ariz.  Her father was a fighter, and she spent time with him in boxing gyms as a kid, but Nicco didn’t wish to pursue such a career as an adult until she met her boyfriend, Steve Hanna.  

“He convinced me (to train and compete in mixed martial arts) through his passion, his love of the sport, so I got to see how fun it was and promote my own confidence,” Montano says.  

As a UFC champ, 2018 should be Nicco’s year, and director Landon Dyksterhouse chronicles the months leading to another first, her title defense.  The challenger – at UFC 228 on Sept. 8 in Dallas, Tex. - is Valentina Shevchenko.  Now, if a team of screenwriters descended from the Rocky Heavens to conjure up an intimidating antagonist, they would draw up Valentina faster than you can say, “Ivan Drago.”

She’s a blonde-haired, muscular, no-nonsense pugilist from Kyrgyzstan (a former republic of the Soviet Union), who speaks with a thick accent.  

No, she doesn’t utter, “I must break you,” but you can easily imagine her saying it. 

Let’s set aside Shevchenko for the moment because Montano runs into other challenges and bad breaks, as her journey towards Sept. 8 is brutally rocky.

Now, Nicco doesn’t need help with fighting techniques or mechanics.  She can fight, and Dyksterhouse films numerous training sessions.  For instance, during a 3-week camp at an Albuquerque gym, Nicco flips over an MMA grappling dummy, hovers above the helpless leather model, and repeatedly smashes her fists and forearms into its face, like a possessed demon pulverizing her prey.  

After watching Nicco bludgeon that inanimate object for, perhaps, 10 seconds on the big screen from my movie theatre seat, I’m pretty darn convinced – somewhere between 99.9 and 99.99 percent - that I won’t ever enter an octagon.   

No, Valentina and training for her upcoming brawl aren’t Montano’s biggest hurdles.  

Time is her most intimidating enemy.  Tonsillitis and a foot injury slowed down and hampered her training.  Nicco now has to play catchup to be in fighting shape for the set Sept. 8 date and cut a significant amount of weight.  According to the paperwork shown in the film, on July 13, 2018, Nicco weighs 154.7 pounds, and she needs to drop 29.7 to 125 by Sept. 7, the weigh-in day. 

UFC Performance Institute Director of Nutrition Clint Wattenberg states that given a choice between September or October, waiting until October is a preferable option for Nicco’s sake.   

Nicco has a different idea, as she calls out, “December.”  

But, the September date stands, so Nicco has no choice. 

Earlier in the doc, Dr. Charlsey McDonald provides therapy on Nicco’s injured foot, and she offers a worrying bit of foreshadowing.  

“And then towards the end of camp, you’re facing a weight cut, which is extra on the body, extra exhausting, extra hard for the tissues to heal.  You’ll feel depleted,” Dr. McDonald said.

You’ll feel depleted.   

This documentary’s initial vision may have started as a celebratory piece or an insider’s look at training for a PPV bout, but Dyksterhouse’s film morphs into an ominous cautionary tale.  Frankly, the second half of the 94-minute doc becomes a horror show:  Nicco’s last five days before the dreaded Friday, Sept. 7 weigh-in at a Dallas Hilton. 

Montano diets, avoids sodium, and says, “I’ve been living off of boiled eggs and almond butter since Monday.” 

If you thought dropping 30 pounds in 8 weeks was taxing, you flat-out won’t believe how much weight the woman has to lose during the last 16 hours.  The amount is so shocking that it’s a spoiler to reveal the pounds in this review.  Perhaps, dramatic weight loss one day before a weigh-in is standard, business-as-usual practices, but reaching her target in the given timeframe seems impossible.   

Imagine a track coach asking his athlete to run a 2-minute mile.  

How in the world can it be done?  The answer – and this is coming from a critic with zero MMA or boxing experience – seems, again, impossible.    

During this last day, the movie captures Nicco shuttling between a sauna, a hot tub, her room, the lobby, and a courtyard with a winding path, where she jogs.  She denies herself water, and Hanna – who has cut weight before - says, “Every cell in your body is screaming for water.”  

Wattenberg and Hanna stay with Montano during her agony, but she horribly suffers and, at times, lays on the cold tile like a wounded soldier on a battlefield with a shotgun wound to the abdomen.  During this crisis, the two men show concern, but they both appear calm and composed during the entire ordeal, like business consultants on a conference call discussing billable hours while Nicco withers away.  

I was squirming in my seat and silently pleading for a doctor to show up.  Witnessing Nicco grieve was a torturous experience, but “Warrior Spirit” offers eye-opening insight into hideous extremes. 

Does Nicco make weight?  

Since UFC 228 happened three years ago, a simple Google search will provide the answer, but this movie is not only a revealing, visceral experience in a Dallas hotel.  It also celebrates Montano’s accomplishments, but yes, the documentary records her struggles.  Dyksterhouse overlays the sound of several interviews on top of joyful and painful images.  The result is a conflicting array of visuals and commentary, which sparks clashing feelings and thoughts. 

One of the most telling ones is towards the very end of the film.  Nicco recalls her physical, emotional, and financial nightmare in Sept. 2018, but we see her at a more reasonable and comfortable weight.  Here, she looks healthy and speaks calmly, which is a stark contrast from the scenes – that we just witnessed - where her cheeks are hollowed out as she dry heaves on the floor.  

Regardless of any setbacks, no one can take away Nicco Montano’s successes.  This MMA warrior - who fittingly sports a pair of Wonder Woman gloves during a training session in the film – can always be defined by her aforementioned, groundbreaking firsts.  Unfortunately, my guess is that she’s not the last one to face a seemingly unattainable weight loss before a bout. 

Jeff’s ranking

3/4 stars

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No Time to Die - Movie Review

Dir: Cary Joji Fukunaga

Starring: Daniel Craig, Léa Seydoux, Lashana Lynch, Ralph Fiennes, Ben Whishaw, Naomie Harris, Jeffrey Wright, Billy Magnussen, Christoph Waltz, Ana de Armas, and Rami Malek

2 h 43 m

With a delayed release due to the pandemic, the newest James Bond film "No Time to Die" makes its long-awaited arrival in theaters this week. Regardless of the ups and downs from its predecessors, James Bond films are exciting popcorn fare and will always remain intriguing due to the 60-year movie history of the character and franchise. This newest 007 film is the final outing for Daniel Craig's portrayal of Bond. Craig's five-film incarnation of the character emphasized the construction of the MI6 icon from Ian Fleming's novels. 

With his stoic mannerisms and rugged good looks, Craig portrayed Bond as imperfect, arrogant, and untrusting. Notably, Craig's James Bond is the only version in the entire franchise to offer a look at the spy at the start and end of his tenure in Her Majesty's Secret Service. That makes "No Time to Die" all the more poignant, even if the highlight of this newest adventure owes more to Daniel Craig's efforts than it does to its challengingly mediocre script that clocks in at a staggering 2 hours and 43 minutes.

James Bond (Daniel Craig) has left his days as an active spy for a simple life in Jamaica. Though, for an agent as prolific as Bond, the world will always be in desperate need of his specific skillsets. The island paradise is short-lived when a friend from the C.I.A, Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright), arrives to ask James for help. The mission involves the rescue of a kidnapped scientist who has developed an airborne biological weapon that can target people by their DNA. A mysterious villain (Rami Malek), who connects to Bond's past foes, is also chasing the weapon, forcing Bond to save the world one more time.

Director Cary Joji Fukunaga introduces "No Time to Die" as many 007 films have done in the past, with an impressive action sequence. Fukunaga's opening moments are exciting, with a car chase that displays all the gadgetry and death-defying stunts that have come to define the franchise. But Fukunaga, amidst the gunfights and chase moments of the opening, takes time to establish a somber tone, one where Bond's attempts at love and happily-ever-after are interrupted by foes looking to even the score. James leaves his newest love interest Madeline Swann, played by the intriguing Léa Seydoux, on a train once the smoke clears. Billie Eilish's opening theme sets the framework for Bond's emotional complications that will endure through the film. 

Once this opening scenario concludes, "No Time to Die" settles into the typical clichés, elaborate and elegant shootouts, and globe-trotting chases that define a 007 franchise. The unusual part of all this fanfare is that none of it feels incredibly unique. On a few occasions, the developments, like the seemingly unnecessary and unfortunately uninteresting villains played by the returning Christoph Waltz and new addition Rami Malek, don't have the urgency needed to push the story forward. This oversight could be attributed to a script written by five authors. However, in small sequences and dialogue moments, co-writer Phoebe Waller-Bridge's comedic genius can be felt in the writing. 

The bulk of the heavy lifting for the film lies in the capable hands of Daniel Craig's performance which shines brightly throughout the film. A cameo from Ana de Armas, playing an operative in training, is a welcome humorous highlight. Lashana Lynch plays Nomi, an MI6 agent who clashes with the idea of the old 007 coming back. Jeffrey Wright, who always does something interesting with his characters, offers support as James Bond's only friend. While Léa Seydoux, who provides a mysterious quality to her performance, is underutilized but good whenever paired against Bond. 

"No Time to Die" has a few highlights that will satisfy and check the James Bond formula boxes with fun. While the adventure for Bond may not be as intriguing as past films, Daniel Craig's performance keeps the movie exciting and proves that his portrayal of James Bond should be regarded as one of the best in the franchise.

Monte's Rating

3.25 out 5.00

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Lamb - Movie Review

Dir: Valdimar Jóhannsson

Starring: Noomi Rapace, Hilmir Snær Guðnason, and Björn Hlynur Haraldsson

1 h 46 m

The icy Icelandic sheep farm landscape in Valdimar Jóhannsson's folktale turned horror hybrid, "Lamb," is cold and lonely. It feels like an alien world with snowcapped peaks, rocky terrain, and rolling green fields. It's secluded, a place not yet visited by humanity, perhaps a planet similar to Earth but from another galaxy.

"Lamb" is another artistic piece of emotional drama mixed into a blender of genre influences from studio A24. However, unlike the production company's other films, "The Witch" and "Hereditary," "Lamb" takes a different, straight out of the deep left-field approach to its narrative manipulations.

Maria (Noomi Rapace) and Ingvar (Hilmir Snær Guðnason) are sheep farmers, living a quiet life of routines and schedules in rural Iceland. One day the couple makes an alarming, act of nature, discovery inside their animal barn. One of their lambs is born different from the others in the flock. The other sheep recognize the difference and begin to act oddly towards the lamb, which is taken into the couple's home and named Ada. They nurture and care for the lamb as if it was part of their family.

The debut film from writer/director Valdimar Jóhannsson takes a matter-of-fact approach to the bizarre elements that the script introduces. There are moments when, under a different director's guidance or even under the influence of an American writer's pen, humor or comedy would settle into the proceedings to allow the tone to lighten and shift from its gloomy and dark emotions. Not for Jóhannsson!

"Lamb" settles into its modern folktale motifs and remains committed to blind guidance into the dialogues of the relationships that exist between humanity and the wonders of nature. The story for Maria and Ingvar is never wholly conveyed. They are a couple seemingly struck by a tragedy surrounding a child they once had; neither discuss it with words, but their interactions display heartbreak and a relationship on the verge of ending. Jóhannsson rarely commits to explanations surrounding the primary characters. Still, once Ava arrives in their home, it is visible that a wound has been bandaged, even if it is ominously fleeting as the film maintains a foreboding quality.

The photography of "Lamb" is a beautiful composition of landscapes desaturated by the constant presence of tumultuously cloudy skies. The invading dangers and reality of the outside world penetrate the house's interior, making it feel safe but claustrophobic.  Cinematographer Eli Arenson transitions from stabilized to walking motion shots, expressing both the temporary comfort and constant panic that new parents endure as their little ones grow.

The film's minimalistic approach runs out of steam as the movie wanders into complications, both with Ava's development and a guest who arrives to add context to the strange surroundings. These transitions in storytelling attempt to lead the film into different contemplative moods, specifically regarding Maria's parental fears. It's the committed work of Noomi Rapace's performance that keeps these pieces from completely falling apart.

"Lamb" is a unique, albeit offbeat and demanding, first feature from Valdimar Jóhannsson. While the outcome utilizes horror primarily as a framing device, the film is more influenced by the quiet yet creatively artistic works of Béla Tarr. Still, "Lamb" is an engrossing oddity from start to finish.

Monte's Rating

3.00 out of 5.00

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Titane - Movie Review

Dir: Julia Ducournau

Starring: Agathe Rousselle and Vincent Lindon

1h 48m

Upon leaving the screening of Julia Ducournau's incendiary second film "Titane," the hallways of the cinema were abuzz with questions, observations, and insights concerning the 108-minute odyssey of violence, sex, love, grief, suffering, and joy. Metaphors were offered, outrage was expressed, confusion was visible on faces, levity was heard with laughter, and smiles were shown as moviegoers walked up and said, "so, what did you think?" Whatever convictions about Ducournau's art one may have, it's undeniable that "Titane" made people feel something. That's beautiful, and so is this confident artist's daring and evocative work of genre-busting cinema. 

"Titane" begins with 7-year-old Alexia (Adèle Guigue) traumatically injuring her head in a car accident. A surgery saves her life, leaving a large titanium metal plate transplanted into the side of her head, which is temporarily held in place by an external fixator that braces her skull. 

The film transitions into adulthood for Alexia (Agathe Rousselle), as she lives a wild, free-spirited life dancing as a car model, moving provocatively upon vintage Cadillacs. But dancing isn't the only lifestyle Alexia leads. She is also a serial killer, utilizing a metal hair stick to penetrate the heads of her victims. 

A botched evening with a potential lover/victim leads authorities to identify Alexia. She flees, cutting her hair, shaving her eyebrows, shedding herself of femininity, and takes on the identity of Vincent, the long-lost son of a grieving fireman named Adrien (Vincent Lindon). Adrien takes Alexia into his care, creating an undeniable bond that satisfies their missing needs from their separate lives. 

Ducournau establishes an unreliable, albeit completely confident, tone from the beginning of the film. Even watching the trailer for this film will not prepare you for the direction "Titane" takes along its winding path of emotional sensation and stimulation. 

The introduction sets into motion the structuring of a horror film, with a young girl haunted by traumas from the past. Ducournau establishes the genre influences early, but the narrative begins to unpeel its layers, revealing that Alexia is a serial killer and has an erotic connection with cars, to the point of binding herself into the backseat and engaging in the emotions of sexual intercourse. The influence of David Cronenberg's "Crash" from 1996, Shin'ya Tsukamoto's "Tetsuo: The Iron Man" from 1989, and Zoe Wittock's "Jumbo" from 2020 are all present. There is more to this plot, but the journey of Ducournau's film, the excesses and boundary-pushing story elements, is part of the many reasons "Titane" will not be forgotten easily. 

As soon as it feels like "Titane" will take a permanent storytelling route, the film shifts gears jarringly into something completely different but still equally complicated. Alexia, having evaded authorities, assumes the identity of a missing boy who is presumed dead. The father, played with an absolute command by Vincent Lindon, is still grieving and is relieved his son is still alive. At this point, Ducournau switches from the violence, horror, and sex of the introduction into a film about compassion, love, and rebirth. It's one of the strangest narrative movements of recent years, but under the steady and assured guidance of director Julia Ducournau, it is executed sublimely.   

There is no easy categorization for this film. While the narrative is frustratingly messy at times, it is undeniable that the filmmaking is entirely immersive. The photography from Ruben Impens is slick and vibrant, with a color palette of cold black and greys that are broken by neon bursts and bright white light streaks. The score by Jim Williams, who also composed "Raw," brings pulsating rhythms, choir chanting, and an undertone of industrial metal instrumentation. It's foreboding from start to finish. 

Agathe Rousselle and Vincent Lindon are exceptional in the leading roles. Their chemistry is a mix of anger and pain but also sweetness and hope. It's fascinating watching them battle their inner demons while they struggle with the growing empathy they have for each other. It's the reason this wild, daunting film works until the end credits. 

"Titane" is not a film for everyone, and that's okay. Cinema needs stories that push boundaries. And film needs filmmakers willing to do daringly confident work. Julia Ducournau is one of those filmmakers, and it's a beautiful, horrific, complicated, and enthralling thing to witness.

Monte's Rating

3.50 out of 5.00

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Venom: Let There Be Carnage - Movie Review

Dir: Andy Serkis

Starring: Tom Hardy, Michelle Williams, Naomie Harris, and Woody Harrelson

1h 37m

What happens when that little voice inside your head, the one that helps you reason good versus bad decisions, tells you to eat people? That's the strange dilemma between an odd couple journalist named Eddie Brock, played by a committed Tom Hardy, and an alien symbiote named Venom, voiced with grumbly enthusiasm by Tom Hardy. 

"Venom: Let There Be Carnage" is the continuation of the relationship between Eddie and Venom, this time moving from a conflicted new friendship into something more akin to an old married couple. Director Andy Serkis crafts a lean and mean comic book oddity that feels just outside the norm of the Marvel cinematic formula. That's a good thing, even if the final result struggles to excel beyond the limitations of an average script.  

Eddie Brock (Tom Hardy) finds balance in his chaotic life, living with an alien inhabiting him and consistently providing a manic internal dialogue and a craving for brains. They co-exist in a messy apartment, with holes in the ceiling made by outbursts from Venom and two chickens lovingly saved from a dinner plate and renamed Sonny and Cher. Their relationship is on rocky ground. Venom craves freedom and urges Eddie to embrace a role as protector of the city - while also allowing him to eat the heads of the bad guys they defeat. Eddie fears exposing the truth of his sudden abilities to solve cases the police can't and hopes to resolve his broken relationship with his former girlfriend Anne (Michelle Williams). 

Eddie finds attention from a serial killer named Cletus Kasady (Woody Harrelson). After Eddie writes, with Venom's help, a story that solves a slew of cases, Cletus is fast-tracked to the front of the death row line. As a final request before the execution, Cletus asks to see Eddie one last time. Cletus bites Eddie during an altercation, and a piece of the symbiote attaches to Cletus, unleashing a monster born for carnage. Eddie and Venom set their differences aside to save the world. 

Director Andy Serkis takes a breakneck approach to storytelling in "Venom: Let There Be Carnage." The film, without credits, is under 90 minutes. That's unheard of for superhero films these days. But what Serkis does in limited time is focus on the highlights for fans of the Venom character. 

Tom Hardy composes an unusual Eddie Brock, providing the mostly unlikeable journalist with enough charm and awkwardness to sympathize with the character. Hardy's nervous and timid performance is an essential quality for Eddie's composition because the story doesn't leave much time for character development. At the same time, the film quickly introduces the film's key villains, a lovelorn couple played by Woody Harrelson and Naomie Harris. Harrelson, whose performance feels just a few steps away from his character in "Natural Born Killers," goes for broke. While the wild-eyed Naomie Harris, whose superpower is a ferocious scream, isn't offered much to do besides looking unhinged. A side story following Eddie's love interest Anne, a completely underutilized Michelle Williams, feels like an afterthought from the narrative.

"Venom: Let There Be Carnage" leans on its oddball vibes and harmless humor, along with an oddly captivating performance from Tom Hardy, to keep this sequel centered on simplistic entertainment value objectives. For the most part, it succeeds in honoring the path set by the original film. If you enjoyed the first "Venom," you will find reason enough to smile with this sequel.

Monte's Rating

2.50 out of 5.00

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The Many Saints of Newark – Movie Review

Directed by:  Alan Taylor

Written by:  David Chase and Lawrence Konner

Starring:  Michael Gandolfini, Alessandro Nivola, Leslie Odom Jr., Vera Farmiga, Jon Bernthal, Corey Stall, Ray Liotta, Billy Magnussen, John Magaro, and Michael Imperioli

Runtime:  120 minutes

‘The Many Saints of Newark’ commits a sin because it’s better suited as a series.

“The Sopranos” ran for six glorious, Emmy Award-winning seasons from 1999 to 2007.  Fourteen years after Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” accompanied the fateful and sudden shudder to black on the last scene of the series finale, a “The Sopranos” feature film – “The Many Saints of Newark” - arrives in theatres and HBO Max.

Yes, believe it!

“The Sopranos” creator David Chase has been approached to write a movie about our “favorite” New Jersey mob family before, but he always resisted.  However, in an Aug. 19, 2021 Rolling Stone interview with Alan Sepinwall, David explains that the genesis of “The Many Saints of Newark” came about 20 years ago from screenwriter Tom Fontana. 

“Tom said he thought it would be interesting to do a story in Newark in the old days of Johnny and Junior.  That appealed to me because my mother (came) from Newark at that time.  My parents met in Newark at that time,” Chase says. 

He adds, “I never forgot (that conversation).” 

This 1960s/1970s prequel – set during Tony Soprano’s teen and preteen years - looks and feels authentic for the big screen.  Unfortunately, director Alan Taylor and screenwriters Lawrence Konner and Chase include way too much story for only two hours.  

Quite ironically, this flick is so well-suited for a new series, perhaps 10 one-hour episodes, but instead, the movie feels like Taylor, Konner, and Chase jammed snippets from these characters’ lives – some new, others very familiar - into a 120-minute highlight reel.   

It’s 1967, and we first meet Tony’s uncle, Dickie Moltisanti (Alessandro Nivola).  He runs a numbers racket, and he and his top soldier in the field, Harold McBrayer (Leslie Odom Jr.), chase down a random collector who holds out on them.  

Where’s all the cash?  The envelope seems light. 

Dickie is Christopher’s dad.  We never meet Michael Imperioli, but he does narrate from the grave.  Christopher appears as an infant here, long before his addictions come to a head (See Season 4 Episode 10), and “Newark” treats us to several well-loved characters, decades into the past.  

Casting director Douglas Aibel and a slew of actors deserve heaping praise and dozens of future favors for delighting fans with actors and performances who wildly resemble younger versions of the famous personalities.  

Billy Magnussen and John Magaro are dead ringers for Paulie and Sil, and so is Samson Moeakiola as Pussy Bonpensiero, although he doesn’t have many speaking lines. 

Corey Stoll plays a fine, ornery (and yes, bald, even during the late 60s) Uncle Junior, and Vera Farmiga – who should star in everything – plays Tony’s mom, Livia.  With Farmiga’s prosthetic nose, Livia in this film eerily resembles Edie Falco – who, of course, plays Tony’s wife, Carmela, in the television series – so one has to believe that Konner and Chase are dancing with Freudian themes. 

Last but not least, James Gandolfini’s 22-year-old son, Michael, rightfully is a teenage Tony, and William Ludwig is our hero at an elementary school age.  For the record, Ludwig looks strikingly similar to Robert Iler, so again, well done, Mr. Aibel! 

Paulie, Sil, Pussy, Tony’s sister Janice (Alexandra Intrator, Mattea Conforti) make occasional appearances.  Still, the film’s primary arc is Dickie’s, who sports a four-headed hydra of plot threads, which include leading his shady enterprise, juggling relationships between his wife (Gabriella Piazza) and girlfriend (Michela De Rossi), coping with his irritable dad (Ray Liotta), and mentoring his nephew Tony.  

From a fan’s perspective, taking care of Tony should be Dickie’s most essential responsibility, but regrettably, the other three gather up (about) triple the amount of screen time.  

Hey, that’s just quick math.  

Granted, Dickie’s ongoing tension with Harold, Giuseppina (De Rossi), and his dad offer some genuine and curious sparks, but ultimately, we mostly care about his influence on the young and impressionable Tony.  

Dickie and Tony do get some actual face time, as Mr. Moltisanti offers stand-tall-and-do-the-right-thing spiels.  Indeed, his messages are well-intentioned, but Dickie lives with a do-as-I-say-not-as-I-do code, and sometimes, Tony witnesses his uncle’s nefarious transgressions.  Since our young protagonist’s dad (Jon Bernthal) is serving time, any thoughts of Tony following positive role models are wasted brain synapses.  

This film successfully conveys that Johnny’s (Bernthal) void and Livia’s constant misery built Tony’s foundation of adult criminal philosophies and mental illness.  Tony isn’t The Beaver, and Johnny and Livia aren’t Ward and June, but we rarely see the young man internalize and process these events.  (Although, admittedly, we do on a couple of occasions.) 

Instead, the script usually cuts away from Dickie’s laundry list of headaches and flips to Tony bouncing a basketball, reading a comic book, or beating up an ice cream man and stealing his truck.  So, how does he go from good egg to goon?  Sure, T’s immoral environment is pouring the cement, but we don’t get nearly enough time with Tony to observe his change from the aforementioned “d” to “n”. 

“The Many Saints of Newark” commits a sin because it seems like the filmmakers took a 10-hour narrative, chopped, sliced, and diced it - like Ralph Cifaretto (Joe Pantoliano) in Season 4 Episode 9 – and glued a few pieces back together into a linear – but unfulfilling - story.  

It’s a movie with humor, realistic dank 60s/70s cinematography, vicious violence, a Van Morrison song, and some folks we know, but due to the film’s construction and focus – and it pains me to say this - it’s missing its heart. 

Jeff’s ranking

2/4 stars

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The Guilty - Movie Review

Directed by: Antoine Fuqua

Written by: Nic Pizzolato, based upon the film “Den Skyldige” (“The Guilty”), written by Gustav Möller & Emil Nygaard Albertsen

Cast: Jake Gyllenhaal, Riley Keough, Peter Sarsgaard, Ethan Hawke, & Paul Dano

Available 10/1 on Netflix: http://www.netflix.com/TheGuilty

By Jen Johans

If you haven’t seen “The Guilty,” you should see “The Guilty.” Let me try this again. If you’ve seen “The Guilty,” you might like “The Guilty.” No, that’s still not quite right. It might help if I tell you that there are two versions of “The Guilty.” There’s the original 2018 Danish film from director Gustav Möller, which was one of the year’s very best movies, and then there’s the new American remake directed by Antoine Fuqua, which debuted last week in theatres in selected cities and will arrive on Netflix on October 1.

Knowing this, I'm sure you can probably guess which of the two pictures I prefer because that's usually the way it goes with remakes of foreign films that frequently lose something vital in the English translation (just like all too often, the book is better than the movie). Of course, there are definite exceptions to this, but in the case of “The Guilty,” it isn't enough just to say that, yes, as predicted, the original version of the film is far superior to the American remake.

Because as a work, it is utterly dependent upon a few major plot revelations that slowly and methodically unfurl over the course of its very stressful roughly ninety-minute running time, since Fuqua's “The Guilty” adheres very closely to Möller's own film, the version you see first might just dictate which one you prefer. 

Set over the course of a very long night in a 911 emergency call center in Los Angeles, as Fuqua's film opens, we meet a police officer who has been temporarily reassigned during an investigation into some sort of conduct violation that we learn more about later on.

In the midst of L.A.'s fire season where the calls are coming in hot and the air is so smoky and polluted that it's exacerbating his asthma something fierce, Jake Gyllenhaal's Joe answers incoming distress calls with the same degree of breathless disdain, cynicism, and entitlement with which he used to patrol the city's streets. Whether it's people requesting help because they took too much speed or were robbed by a hooker (both incidents play out exactly as in the original), Joe counts down the minutes until his hearing the next day, after which he hopes to get off the phones and go back on the beat. However, suddenly, a call comes in that does the unthinkable; it makes Joe not only care but also get very involved.

A woman's (Riley Keough) voice comes in on the line speaking to Joe as though he were her child. But before he disconnects from what he assumes is a wrong number, something in the timbre of her voice stops him. Shaky, tear-filled, and in a state of panic she's trying to hide, when he hears a man (Peter Sarsgaard) ask her who she's talking to, Joe starts piecing together the narrative that she's been abducted by her husband by asking the woman yes or no questions only.

Barely able to sit still in his chair – his jittery hand forever fondling his inhaler because he knows it's only a matter of time before he runs out of breath once again – he becomes a cop again before our eyes. Demanding help from the California Highway Patrol and others who are inundated by fire, crises, and crime calls of their own, Joe tries to route squads to pull over a white van traveling eastbound on the I-10 and also send cars to her home to check on these children that she keeps talking about.

Getting even more frantic when they get disconnected and she doesn't answer the phone, he calls her home to talk to her young daughter who helps Joe fill in a few more blanks. Rather than be the first one out the door from his final shift, he abruptly refuses to leave until he sees this case through to the end. Restrained by legal red tape, jurisdictional issues, and bureaucracy, Joe eventually goes into an isolated room, closes the blinds, and devotes the rest of the film's running time to trying to bring Keough's Emily Lighton home safely.

That old macho rage at a forefront – for reasons both good and bad – he makes a request to his loyal sergeant (voiced by Ethan Hawke) to go and kick some doors in when the more he hears and uncovers about Emily, the more alarmed he becomes. But is he really listening or is he working out his own personal issues with regret as a father in the midst of marital strife? Is he fighting to save Emily or himself?

Both versions of “The Guilty” serve as a reminder that whenever one interacts with emergency services in the form of police, fire, or paramedics, it's on one of the worst days of our lives. Communication, as the works reveal, is at the forefront of our experience, and limits are placed on what gets conveyed, understood, the authority figure's abilities to help (read: not hurt), and whatever they're going through on their own as well.

Where the two works differ greatly is in terms of their approach. Subtle, whittled down, and respectful enough of the audience's intelligence not to give us a lot of overt messages, excuses, spell everything out, or punctuate every new revelation with an intrusive score, Möller's “The Guilty” is masterful in the way it slowly builds to its unbearably tense conclusion. 

In stark contrast, anyone who's seen a film by Antoine Fuqua (“Training Day,” “Southpaw,” “Olympus Has Fallen,” etc.) knows that subtlety is not his strong suit. The new "Guilty" is utterly overstuffed, both with the baggage of Joe and the gravity of America in the present moment. Filled with symbolism, from the fires raging outside and internally in Joe to that damn inhaler, and punctuated with cacophonous sound to drive his points home via a score that “tells” you what and how to feel, "The Guilty" is a lot to absorb without a headache. Also, it's loaded with explanations for behavior that in some ways augment the film by commenting on the problems faced in our country and in others, just play like speechifying sound bites.

Whereas the original film (which Gyllenhaal first saw at Sundance in 2018 and knew immediately he wanted to remake) was content to let the battles within his dynamic main character come to the forefront as needed and often in his micro-expressions or through actor Jakob Cedergren's eyes, the new version makes our lead much more vocal, demonstrative, and unhinged. One of the strongest American actors of his generation, Gyllenhaal is more than up to the task to bring humanity to what is largely a one-man show, save for the remarkable contributions by members of its vocal cast, including Keough, Sarsgaard, Hawke, Paul Dano, and others.

But while the film goes big when it should go little, its tendency to push to the extreme lessens as it continues, when Fuqua, his cinematographer, and editor pull back slightly, and Gyllenhaal dials the bravado down several notches. As someone who grew up around cops, let me be the first to say that they most definitely have a Cop Voice, Cop Manner, and Cop Behavior. And just like when someone gets out of the military, it takes some time for them to leave that behind and just assimilate with the rest of us, Fuqua – who's made many movies dealing with this very thing as both director and producer – understands this well. Gyllenhaal's Joe learns to modulate his voice and behavior the longer he's on the phone with Emily and the film is better for it.

Still, though, the first chunk of his “Guilty,” which was written by “True Detective”'s Nic Pizzolatto (though by their own admission somewhat rewritten by Fuqua and Gyllenhaal), plays like a dropped character and subplot that was edited out of “Training Day.” Far more of an extreme contrast than we truly need as Joe evolves over the course of the movie, as I watched this one, I kept thinking of not only the original Danish production but also Steven Knight's brilliant UK movie “Locke,” from 2013 as well.

Truly a one-man show in terms of actors on the screen, in Knight's film, we see Tom Hardy's character answer a phone call on a drive home that changes everything for him. Something as simple as which direction he's going to go and what he's going to do next has life-altering stakes, and just like in both versions of “The Guilty,” made a few years later, the film's drama comes from his interactions with others whose voices we hear on the other end of his various calls.

Shot in real-time as Hardy made the same drive each night and went through the same emotional drama only a handful of times as if it were a play, both versions of “The Guilty,” were shot similarly. Yet instead of just letting it play out real-time over 90 minutes with Hardy in a car and the cameras ready to go the whole time, both “Guilty” productions were completed in shoots ranging from 11 (Fuqua) to 13 (Möller) days. But by focusing less on manufacturing drama and more on letting it play out on its own, both “Locke” and the original version of “The Guilty” work so much better with far less artifice than the 2021 rendition of the latter.

In the end, of course, Fuqua's film might still be worth watching if you liked Möller's original “Guilty" and are curious what the new incarnation might look like Americanized, with all of these gifted actors, and with the volume turned way, way up. But if you've never pressed play on the original, I'd highly recommend seeing both "Locke" and “The Guilty” before you see “The Guilty,” to see how to tell the story of a man on a phone at a crossroads in his life right.

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My Name is Pauli Murray – Movie Review

Directed by:  Julie Cohen and Betsy West

Starring:  Pauli Murray (archive footage), Patricia Bell-Scott, Brittney Cooper, Chase Strangio, and Ruth Bader Ginsburg 

Runtime:  88 minutes

‘My Name is Pauli Murray’:  Please meet this American pioneer

“I want to see America be what she says she is in the Declaration of Independence and Constitution.  America, be what you proclaim to be!” – Pauli Murray

During the opening few minutes of the documentary “My Name is Paul Murray”, Karen Rouse Ross – who is Pauli Murray’s grand-niece and the executrix of her estate – explains, “Pauli did not share a lot about her life with me.  I knew she was a priest.  I knew she had been a lawyer, but she never ever mentioned any of her accomplishments.  I went and read (her papers), and then I realized, ‘Oh my God.’”  

Ross may not have known Pauli’s accomplishments, but admittedly, I never heard of Pauli Murray.  

Shame on me. 

About 50 minutes into this doc, I began to realize that Murray – who passed away in 1985 at the age of 74 - was a civil rights and women’s rights champion whose impact rivals Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s.  In fact, about 10 minutes later, the film points out that Murray pushed the ACLU to accept Ginsburg on its board.   

The parallels between the two women, as well as their accomplishments, are staggering.  After the movie ended, this critic noted that directors Julie Cohen and Betsy West also helmed “RBG” (2018), the insightful doc about our country’s late justice.  

During a Sept. 30 Q&A at the Angelika Film Center & Café, Cohen discussed that she and West learned about Murray during their “RBG” work.  

“(Betsy and I) did a little Googling on Pauli Murray and (started) to read up and learn a bit more about the myriad of things that Pauli had done, leading us to be somewhat astounded that we didn’t know about this incredible figure,” Cohen said.

Murray was a pioneer of the highest order and truest definition.  According to Google, a pioneer means “a person who is among the first to explore or settle in an area” or “a person who begins or helps develop something new and prepares the way for others to follow.”  

Indeed, Pauli explored new areas in the legal world, and she paved the way for other landmark idols of American history.  In other words, Pauli was a pioneer for the pioneers.  

Vastly ahead of her time.  

If you are unfamiliar with Pauli Murray, it would be a disservice to list her staggering achievements in this review.  Watch the movie, but for the moment, know that she was a modern-day Renaissance woman who fought for the underrepresented, especially during earlier decades that one wouldn’t expect.

Think of it this way.  This documentary is like discovering that Neil Armstrong – in July 1969 - wasn’t the first person to walk on the Moon.  Instead, 20 years earlier, someone else flew into outer space and stepped on Madame Luna.  Granted, Murray wasn’t an astronaut, but you get the point.  

Cohen and West follow straight-up doc methods in revealing a crystal-clear picture of Murray’s life.  Except for the cinematic biography’s first 10 minutes, the movie generally follows a linear path, where we discover that Pauli grew up in humble beginnings in North Carolina.  When she was three, she moved to Durham to live with her aunts and grandparents (on her mother’s side).  

Her family had mixed-race backgrounds, but she identified (or was identified) as black.  Murray also challenged her gender identity, a taboo subject throughout most of the 20th century, but she did so silently, which caused her emotional anguish. 

In most respects, however, Murray moved like a rocket ship, a one-woman force armed with a keen will to make progress.  For example, she sent repeated letters to U.S. President Franklin D. Roosevelt about the University of North Carolina’s discriminatory admission standards, and she eventually got First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt’s attention.  

Murray called this practice “confrontation by typewriter.”

She was also a voracious reader, and the bio explains her embrace of education, which began at a tender young age and continued throughout her life, as she earned several degrees.  

To tell this extraordinary story, Cohen and West recruited experts like Rutgers University professor and author Brittney Cooper, University of Georgia professor and author Patricia Bell-Scott, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and Pauli Murray (who thankfully documented her memoir via audiotape).  

Murray once said, “When my brothers try to draw a circle to exclude me, I shall draw a larger circle to include them.”

Well, make sure that you draw a big circle on “My Name is Pauli Murray” on Amazon Prime or your local movie theatre listing and devote 88 minutes to this film about this dedicated human being.

Jeff’s ranking

3/4 stars

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Dear Evan Hansen - Movie Review by Monte Yazzie

Dir: Stephen Chbosky

Starring: Ben Platt, Kaitlyn Dever, Amy Adams, Danny Pino, Nik Dodani, Julianne Moore, and Colton Ryan

2h 17m

"Dear Evan Hansen" makes its way from the stage to the screen, banking on its Tony award-winning success to translate its problematic subject matter into a moving musical movie sensation. 

Director Stephen Chbosky, who is no stranger to youth-focused drama, having directed "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" and "Wonder," has the unenviable task of adapting the stage content for the movie theater. It proves a tremendously difficult task as "Dear Evan Hansen," a story about adolescent mental-health concerns translated with musical numbers and teen rom-com sentiments, fails in finding its emotional pulse. 

The film opens with a teenage Evan Hansen (Ben Platt) writing a therapy-assigned letter addressed to himself. Evan, struggling with crippling social anxiety, among other undisclosed mental-health concerns, is reframing with positive affirmations about his final first day of high school. After being yelled at by a volatile classmate named Connor (Colton Ryan), Evan retreats into his loneliness, an existence of yearning for the girl he likes to notice him, eating lunches alone, and trying desperately to be more than just an invisible face in the crowd. 

One of Evan's self-addressed letters finds its way into the hands of Connor, who again challenges Evan in front of all their peers. The next day Evan is called into the principal's office and is informed that Connor took his own life. Connor's parents' (Amy Adams and Danny Pino) only clue is one of Evan's self-addressed letters. Believing Evan was Connor's only friend, the parents begin asking Evan questions about their relationship. Evan untruthfully fabricates a story that initiates a series of lies that grow greater as Evan propels into popularity. 

"Dear Evan Hansen" is a problematic film. The handling of a narrative centered on mental-health concerns for young people builds a complicated character at the core of its story. It asks the viewer to sympathize with a young person who manipulates a tragic situation. Along the bumpy path, Evan leads two grieving parents into falsehoods surrounding their deceased son while also using the problem to gain time and attention from the girl he has a crush on, who also happens to be the sibling of the boy who took his own life. 

The narrative handles issues of suicide, grieving, loneliness, and the impacts of social media on mental-health concerns with surface-level exploration. It's neither meaningful nor thought-provoking when the characters are offered minimal time to explore some of these concerns. It is often undercut by a musical number that pulls the emotion away from young people simply being honest with one another. It's troublesome, difficult to watch at times, and leads to a finale that doesn't feel at all earned. 

Ben Platt, reprising the stage role, is an excellent performer with a beautiful voice, but he doesn't pull off the look of a high school student. Platt has a few shining moments, primarily when tasked with carrying a musical number. Still, the subtle performance pieces surrounding the character's struggle and motivation are lost in the superficial narrative. Kaitlyn Dever, playing Evan's love interest Zoe, does an excellent job of balancing grief and hope. Playing Evan's mother, Heidi, Julianne Moore mostly disappears for much of the film but in her small moments provides a sense of gravity when questioning her son and a tender sensibility found in her struggle as a single mom. 

"Dear Evan Hansen" offers a few moments to discuss issues of mental health for young people. Most of these scenes happen between two characters, sometimes one sole character, with minimal emphasis on showy dance routines and without heavy-handed emotional coercion. Within these small, quiet scenes, the film brings valuable attention and an important message to the conversations surrounding depression, loneliness, grief, and coping with negative feelings. I wish there were more of this. Unfortunately, much of the adapted stage sensation fails to connect meaningfully with the situation and emotions found in the source material. 

Monte's Rating

2.25 out of 5.00

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Dear Evan Hansen - Movie Review by Jeff Mitchell

Directed by:  Stephen Chbosky

Written by:  Steven Levenson

Starring:  Ben Platt, Kaitlyn Dever, Julianne Moore, Amy Adams, Danny Pino, and Colton Ryan

Runtime:  137 minutes

“Dear Evan Hansen”:  Beautiful ballads crash into an ugly narrative

“On the outside, always looking in.  Will I ever be more than I’ve always been?  ‘Cause I’m tap, tap, tapping on the glass.  I’m waving through a window.  I try to speak, but nobody can hear.”  - Evan Hansen (Ben Platt) 

Evan lives in dire straits.  He’s a senior at Westview High School, and like many other students, he carries anxiety about his current place in (and state of) the world.  

Comedienne Carol Burnett said, “Adolescence is one big pimple,” and she’s right.  

Evan frequently feels that he could burst into tears, but he mainly frets.  While other kids stress about grades, dating, curfews, driving, and peer pressure, most of his classmates have found their close array of confidants, compadres, or sworn allies.  

Not Evan.  He’s doesn’t have one true friend, and his troubled mental state is more disastrous than the average teen.  He suffers from anxiety and depression and takes Zoloft and Wellbutrin to help cope through his days.  Still, his self-esteem remains lower than a limbo bar in Antarctica.

However, Director Stephen Chbosky and writer Steven Levenson attempt to offer warm empathy for Evan.  They feature teenage mental illness as a centerpiece of their film, adapted from the Broadway play of the same name.  Director Michael Greif’s live theatrical hit garnered six Tony Awards in 2017, including Best Musical, and Platt earned Best Performance by a Lead Actor in a Musical.

No question, Platt can sing his lungs out, and composers Justin Paul and Benj Pasek cranked out a flat-out beautiful, vastly-catchy collection of tunes, including “If I Could Tell Her”, “Anybody Have a Map?”, the centerpiece track “You Will Be Found”, and the opening solo “Waving Through a Window”.  And why not?  Paul and Plasek are the melodious minds behind “La La Land” (2016) and “The Greatest Showman” (2017). 

Yes, this is them!  (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) 

Do yourself a favor and find Platt’s “Waving Through a Window” rendition from the 2017 Tony Awards.  

Fabulous stuff.  Completely fabulous.

The music isn’t the problem in “Dear Evan Hansen”, and neither are the performances.  Platt’s Evan sells teen angst as well as Crispin Glover’s George McFly (“Back to the Future” (1985)) and Anthony Michael Hall’s Brian Johnson (“The Breakfast Club” (1985)).  Evan, George, and Brian are three peas in a pod.  Well, three separate pods because these loners wouldn’t function in one.  

Also, Platt’s co-star Kaitlyn Dever (“Booksmart” (2019)) is awfully convincing as a grieving sister, and so are Amy Adams and Danny Pino, as Zoe’s (Dever) parents. 

Why are they in mourning?  Her brother and their son, Connor (Colton Ryan), commits suicide, and Zoe, Cynthia (Adams), and Larry (Pino) are left with a dozen questions but have zero answers.

Unfortunately for this family, Evan repeatedly lies about his friendship with Connor and then provides false answers to their inquiries, as one fib snowballs into an avalanche of deceptive falsehoods.  Soon he can’t control the narrative in school or online, and he volleys from embarrassment to elation because he suddenly feels seen and heard.  He’s no longer waving through a window but stepping through it and embracing others and himself.

To be fair, this crashing mountain did begin with a misunderstanding, not a lie.  So, Evan isn’t at fault at first.   

But misunderstandings occur with regularity in movies and television.  Take “Three’s Company” (1976 – 1984) and look at any episode.  The sitcom’s mix-ups are either resolved by the end of a 22-minute show or within just a few moments, like when Mr. Furley (Don Knotts) thought that Jack (John Ritter) and Chrissy (Suzanne Somers) were a couple, but they were simply putting up a shower curtain (while fully clothed).  Pretty harmless.

Here, Evan’s shameful lies and coverup are wickedly harmful, and with the film’s 137-minute runtime, we have to endure our protagonist’s horrible errors in judgment for – what seems like – an eternity.  Yes, Evan is – somehow – featured as a protagonist, as he smashes into a delicate narrative about a kid taking his own life.  The sad thing is every single moviegoer knows – straight away - how this brutal story will end for him.   

Quite frankly, it’s difficult to muster up any sympathy for Evan, as the real victims are Zoe, Cynthia, Larry, and anyone else who believed him.  Maybe “Dear Evan Hansen” would offer a different vibe as a straight-up drama, like “The Spectacular Now” (2013), which effectively and empathetically dealt with alcoholism.  Perhaps the original Broadway version imprints differently, or the live production sets Evan’s abhorrent decisions (more) in the background as the music takes center stage (pardon the pun).  

I haven’t seen the play, so I don’t know.  

However, I experienced the movie.  Hey, I’ll listen to the exceptional music again and again, but one viewing of this flawed film is more than enough.    

Jeff’s ranking

2/4 stars

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I'm Your Man - Movie Review

Director: Maria Schrader

Writers: Maria Schrader and Jan Schomburg, based on the short story by Emma Braslavsky

Cast: Dan Stevens, Maren Eggert, and Sandra Hüller

(In German with English subtitles)

By: Jen Johans

A tall, kind, supportive, handsome, dark-haired man with a British accent who looks at the woman that he's with with puppy dog levels of adoration, if Thomas (Dan Stevens) seems like the perfect man, that's because he is…for the most part. Unfortunately, however, what he isn't is a man.

A humanoid robot designed to be one hundred percent compatible with Alma (Maren Eggert), a Pergamon Museum academic who has agreed to evaluate Tom for a three week period in order to fund and further her own research into ancient cuneiform writing, although their prospective relationship seems like a joke to the deeply uncomfortable Alma, Tom takes his romantic mission deadly seriously.

From being startled when she gives him his own bedroom instead of sharing a bed with him to being hurt when she's too busy to indulge in a romantic brunch he whipped up for her the next morning, just like we all learn and adapt to our own partners over the years, Tom does as well. Not allowed to tell others that he's a robot, an embarrassed Alma deposits him in a cafe by her work the next day and, just like the metaphorical puppy dog he resembles following his “master” around, Tom happily stands outside in the rain once the business closes and waits for her to return.

Humanistic and true, despite the fact that it deals in the artificiality of technology, acclaimed actress turned director Maria Schrader's German film “I'm Your Man” – which she co-wrote with Jan Schomburg, based on a short story by Emma Braslavsky – begins as a gentle comedy of manners and errors. But, aided immensely by the chemistry of our leads and the fact that the delightful Stevens never once slips and plays Tom with a wink instead of absolutely straight, the film soon modulates into a melancholic, timely meditation of the importance of human affection and connection and a study of loneliness in contemporary society.

Embodied extraordinarily well by Eggert (in a difficult balance of vulnerability and strength throughout), the more we learn about Alma, including the source of her pain and the reason why she's put up so many walls, the more we understand how hard it is for her to knock them down for someone – anyone – let alone a robot programmed to be her dream beau. 

Choosing, as we all do, which people we're willing to let into our weird little worlds, Alma is a woman who's been burned in the past. Furthermore, the screenwriters' decision for the film's tech firm to bring to life a mate who, through no fault of “his” own, calls up the mental picture of someone Alma loved when her life was much simpler and everything was in front of her both professionally and personally, makes “I'm Your Man” resonate on a deeper, more universal level than one would assume going in.

While on the lighter side of philosophical, it nonetheless raises valid questions about how relationships build or disintegrate over time as our needs change and how we all walk around with different levels of trauma. Yet Schrader's movie has far less in common with other films about romantic robot surrogates like Steven Spielberg's Kubrickian “A.I. Artificial Intelligence,” than it does with either mythology or George Bernard Shaw's “Pygmalion” (and its musical counterpart “My Fair Lady”).

A critical hit overseas, especially in its native Germany where lead actress Maren Eggert won the first-ever gender-neutral Silver Bear acting prize at the Berlin International Film Festival, although the ending of “I'm Your Man” comes off as abrupt and a bit tonally dissonant with respect to the rest of the film's harmony, it's still a wholly impressive foreign import overall.

Befitting of the phrase “and now for something completely different,” while the tendency would be in America to play the whole thing for laughs, there's something far more refreshing and earnest about Schrader's approach. Following Tom's lead, as you view “I'm Your Man,” it gazes right back at you with interest, hoping that – if you look closely enough – you'll catch not only a flicker of recognition but your whole self reflected back at you as you watch.

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Belfast - Movie Review

Written and directed by:  Kenneth Branagh

Starring:  Jude Hill, Caitriona Balfe, Jamie Dornan, Judi Dench, Ciaran Hinds, Olive Tennant, and Lewis McAskie

Runtime:  97 minutes

“Belfast”:  You might fall in love with Branagh’s love letter to his hometown

Aug. 15, 1969.  Apollo 11 landed on the Moon the month before, and a modest music festival called Woodstock kicked off that day in Bethel, New York.  

These two landmark events took place 384,000 km and 5,087 km away, respectively, from Buddy (Jude Hill), an inquisitive and lively kid from Belfast, Northern Island.  Well, the said engineering marvel and rock concert might as well be 100,000,000 km away because Buddy’s world is his mom (Caitriona Balfe), dad (Jamie Dornan), brother (Lewis McAskie), granny (Judi Dench), and grandad (Ciaran Hinds).  Well, let’s include his friends and Catherine (Olive Tennant), his classmate at Grove Park Elementary School, too.  Our young hero wants to marry Catherine someday, but hey, he has to speak to her first. 

Oh, the poor kid.  How to break the ice?   

As writer/director Kenneth Branagh’s film opens, Buddy pretends to slay dragons with a wooden sword and trash can top when Ma (Balfe) calls him home for dinner in their friendly and neighborly brick row housing community.  

Life seems pretty swell for “Buddy from Belfast”, as his Pop (Hinds) calls him once.

Not so fast, because some Northern Irish neighbors are fighting with one another, and not just with their fists.  The Troubles – a 30-year conflict between Catholics and Protestants - began in the late 1960s, and it takes Buddy and most everyone by surprise.  Looting, gunfire, arson, and harmless knocks on front doors followed by threats are the ingredients in this explosive concoction, but Ma, Pa, Will (McAskie), Granny, Pop, and Buddy still have to get up each day and get along.  For the moment, however, they have to live with the nearby (or next-door) aggression and bloodshed.

Branagh was born in Belfast, so this movie is personal, deeply so. 

During a Q&A after a Sept. 12 Toronto International Film Festival “Belfast” screening, Branagh said that once COVID shutdowns began in March 2020, he put pen to paper and wrote this screenplay.  

He added that he wanted to write this story for 50 years. 

Since the five-time Oscar-nominated actor/screenwriter/director was born on Dec. 10, 1960, he would be 8 years young on Aug. 15, 1969.  This partially autobiographical film is a love letter to his hometown, that yes, features the violence and tension of the day.  It’s a central theme, but Branagh dives into warm, frank, and hilarious memories of family, neighbors, and schoolmates that peacefully challenge the surrounding on-screen conflicts.   

For a movie situated in the middle of sporadic clashes, you – indeed - find yourself smiling a lot during “Belfast”.  Buddy often interacts with his mom, dad, and grandparents, and they offer him blunt discourse, but sometimes, it’s laced with humor.  For example, Pop gives Buddy valuable advice to address long division in his math class, as he recommends fudging the actual numerals.  

To help his odds of figuring out an equation correctly, hey, a 1 could be a 7, or a 2 could be a 6, right?   

Branagh pens dozens of everyday moments, comments, and simple glances with heartfelt zeal.  These brief – but frequent – exchanges between family members (and some others) offer real surprises that pop off the gorgeous black and white screen.  Speaking of pop, Kenneth also includes several pop culture references, and each specific visual mention lands a cinematic bullseye. 

We get an absolute sense of Branagh’s childhood memories during this short and (mostly) sweet 97-minute film.  He pays thoughtful homage to them and Belfast by majestically framing countless shots with the precision of a scientist filled with joy and nostalgia.  Meanwhile, Hill (a charismatic wonder), Hinds, and Dench will frequently keep you in stitches.  

(For the record, Hinds and Dench are treasures!)

Still, the local violent struggles are either on-screen or lurking somewhere off, and Ma and Pa need to make a life-changing decision on whether or not to stay in Belfast.  The danger is genuine, and while Pa works in London (and only comes home every other weekend), Ma attempts her best to keep the family safe and financially afloat.  Balfe and Dornan are rock solid as Buddy and Will’s folks, but since Pa is frequently out of town, Caitriona makes the most of her frequent screen time with a performance worthy of a supporting Oscar nomination.  Look, existing in 1969 Belfast can be a difficult task, but family is everything despite the arguments and tough love. 

Branagh seems to have poured his heart and soul, his everything – including an accompanying toe-tapping soundtrack filled with a wildly famous Belfast native - into this film.  Fifty-two years ago, this city was Branagh’s entire world, and in 2021, he may have just become Belfast’s leading travel and tourism ambassador.  Who needs the Moon or Woodstock? 

As they say in Belfast…Yeo!  

Jeff’s ranking

3.5/4 stars

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