Long Shot (2019)

Long Shot (2019)

Cast

• Seth Rogen as Fred Flarsky
• Charlize Theron as Charlotte Field
• Gabrielle Graham as Franci
• Boyz II Men as Themselves

Director

• Jonathan Levine

Writer

• Liz Hannah
• Dan Sterling

Cinematographer

• Yves Bélanger

Editor

• Melissa Bretherton
• Evan Henke

Composer

• Marco Beltrami
• Miles Hankins

Comedy

Rated NR

120 minutes

 

 

With its commentary on how much a female candidate has to alter her personality to win over the electorate while a TV star sits in the White House, it’s impossible to miss the allusions to the election of 2016. But any sort of political statement—or even a particularly insightful one on gender dynamics, to  the film's detriment—ends up taking a backseat to one of the oldest stories in the cinematic book: two wildly likable stars putting a movie on their shoulders and carrying it in every way. For a century, people have been falling in love with romantic comedies and it’s usually not because of their embedded social commentary. It’s because they like the stars and want to see them find happiness. It’s been a long time since there’s been a rom-com with two stars as straight-up likable and easy to root for as Seth Rogen and Charlize Theron are here.

Fred Flarsky (Seth Rogen) is a journalist at an alt-weekly, the kind of guy who likes to drop f-bombs in his headlines and gets off on ruffling feathers and taking risks. The film opens with Fred infiltrating a White Power group and being willing to go as far as to get a Swastika tattoo to get the story. His journalistic pride is key to his identity, and so he can’t believe it when a conservative media mogul (played by a heavily made-up Andy Serkis) buys out the publication for which he writes. Fred packs up his bags and leaves the job he loves, going out for a day of drowning his misery in drugs and beer with his best buddy Lance (a fantastic O’Shea Jackson Jr.). His rich pal takes him to a fundraiser, where he crosses paths with his old babysitter, Charlotte Field (Charlize Theron), who just so happens to be Secretary of State.

Charlotte has recently been told by President Chambers (Bob Odenkirk) that the former TV star is tired of being leader of the free world and wants to now segue into being a movie star. He won’t be running in 2020, leaving the door open for Fields herself. With a team that includes the tough Maggie Milliken (June Diane Raphael) working to craft an image that will get her elected, Charlotte is also going to do a world tour to garner support for both an environmental initiative in which she truly believes. But she remembers Fred, the wide-eyed kid who supported her decades ago. And he remembers her when she was sixteen and still passionate about the world. She decides to give him a job punching up her speeches, and, well, Fred and Charlotte get closer. He opens her up to new experiences and helps her find her voice again. She teaches him to care about something other than his opinion. And there’s some very R-rated humor along the way.

It's a little sticky politically to make a movie in 2019 that arguably asserts that the best way for a powerful woman to find herself is to let her hair down and dance to Roxette. And yet that moment is a perfect example of what works about “Long Shot,” in that Theron and Rogen sell it in such a genuine and joyful way that it’s easy to dismiss the politics and just give oneself over to the charm of it all. In that sense, despite its very raunchy sense of humor, “Long Shot” is an incredibly old-fashioned rom-com, a genre that has often relied on the charm of its stars more than politics or social commentary. People didn’t fall in love with “Pretty Woman” because of its commentary on sex workers—they fell in love with the stars and their chemistry. This genre is often more about a look, a laugh, a connection than it is a statement, and Levine remembers that enough to keep “Long Shot” clicking for most of its over-long 115 minutes. He knows this movie lives and dies on how much we like his leads and want to see them find happiness, and so he only uses the Trump/Clinton connections as a side dish. The main course is less “The American President” and more “Pretty Woman” (and this really is a gender-reversed version of that story if you think about it).

But if so much of the success of “Long Shot” rests on the backs of its stars, how do they carry that weight? First of all, Seth Rogen hasn’t had this kind of rom-com leading role in a decade and he’s improved as an actor in that time, shedding some of his man-child tics while also keeping just enough of them to make Fred into a version of that self-defeating friend we all have. Rogen is very funny, but the movie belongs to Theron, who proves yet again that she can do literally anything. Very few actors can segue so seamlessly from “Mad Max: Fury Road” to “Tully” to this and not miss a single beat. Her comic timing is perfect, her chemistry with Rogen is believable, and she does something that often sinks political movies in that we buy her as a political leader. It’s a great performance. Returning to the aforementioned Roxette scene again, she has a beat at the end of it that cuts through everything that one could say is wrong with this movie by just being deeply human.

“Long Shot” could have been tightened in several places and the party goes a little too long, but it’s easy to see Levine and his team falling in love with Fred and Charlotte as much as I suspect audiences will when this is released. Whatever side of the political fence you’re on and whoever you voted for in 2016, it will be hard or you not to fall in love with them too. 

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Fighting with My Family (2019)

Fighting with My Family (2019)

Cast

• Florence Pugh as Saraya 'Paige' Knight
• Lena Headey as Julia 'Sweet Saraya' Knight
• Nick Frost as Patrick 'Rowdy Ricky Knight' Knight
• Jack Lowden as Zak 'Zodiac' Knight
• Vince Vaughn as Jake Roberts
• Thea Trinidad as April 'AJ Lee' Brooks
• Aqueela Zoll as Kirsten
• Ellie Gonsalves as Maddison
• Leah Harvey as Hannah
• Dwayne Johnson as The Rock

Director

• Stephen Merchant

Writer

• Stephen Merchant

Cinematography

• Remi Adefarasin

Comedy, Drama

Rated PG-13 for crude and sexual material, language throughout, some violence and drug content.

108 minutes

 

 

Can you smeeelll what the Stephen Merchant is cooking? Yes, while “Fighting with My Family” boasts a guru-presence cameo by Dwayne Johnson, a whole lot of funny talent performing athletic slapstick, and even some laugh-out-loud shade at Vin Diesel, the key to WWE Studios’ best film yet is the co-creator behind shows like "Hello Ladies" and “The Office.” Merchant’s mind for sharp dialogue and character-based comedy proves to be an essential muscle for this feel-good true story, which tells of how WWE superstar Paige came from a completely lovable wrestling clan and rose to international stardom. 

When Saraya Knight and her brother Zak are shown tussling as kids, their parents intervene—to correct the chokehold to make it more effective. Their home proves to be a charming atmosphere, where the parents, former-convict and current teddy bear Ricky (Nick Frost) and force of nature Julia (Lena Headey), love each other deeply. The family shares this positive atmosphere in their wrestling gym and indie wrestling league in their working-class English town, where they teach a band of excitable young kids how to pin, bounce off the ropes, etc. The two stars are the now-grown Knight children, Saraya (Florence Pugh), her jet-black hair and lip ring as definitive as her shyness and shortness, and the slightly hot-headed Zac (Jack Lowden). The Knight clan sees each other as equals, and when they do fight, it’s the good kind. 


One of the film's funniest scenes is early on, when the Knights meet the parents of Kirsten (Aqueela Zoll), Zac’s girlfriend. With Kirsten’s dad played by the comparably demure Merchant, the Knight family are true bulls in a china shop of delicate upper-class niceties. To watch Merchant interact with them is especially funny, while highlighting how this family has their own language, and that they can’t help but be themselves. Most of all, they’re proud of where they’ve come from. It makes for a very warming ensemble comedy, the quartet’s chemistry making a vivid nest that Saraya soon leaves when she gets a shot at professional wrestling. 


Saraya's steady ascent to WWE stardom with blood, sweat, tears, and personal branding (where she changes her stage name from Britani to Paige) then presents Merchant with a narrative challenge he doesn’t entirely pin down—how do you show a character’s progress arc in an industry where everything is fixed, not faked? He finds a solution in part by not forgetting about Zac when he doesn’t make the cut, and putting a lot of dramatic screen-time into Paige’s weaknesses—that she isn’t as strong as some of the other women, which her coach Hutch (played with tough love by Vince Vaughn) reminds her about. Worst of all, she gets stage fright when it comes to the essential act of talking trash in the ring. Pugh and Lowden’s full-bodied dramatic performances express the complete frustration and isolation within these shortcomings, representing hard-working people who are tempted to give up on a dream for many reasons. This eventually makes for moments in which the film, as unabashedly formulaic as it is, can be genuinely inspiring. 


But in spite of the many montages that show what wrestling requires physically, this movie is honestly about successfully branding yourself to superstardom, which WWE seems to be in denial of in pursuit of a classic athletic success narrative. Even though there’s a sense of those who simply do and do not have what Vaughn calls “spark,” there’s little explanation of that, blurring the potential of being able to root for someone to have “it,” whatever that is. The movie goes so far as to make its pivotal match seem like a fight won purely by strength, even though The Rock himself shared during the Sundance Q&A that while Saraya's first big match (known at that point as Paige) did have the same winner, he did tell her the result the night before, which the script avoids. It’s artifice in awkward denial of itself, and it cheapens the hard work of people like Paige, as much as we see her and her peers throw every part of themselves into this entertainment.


Packaged in part as a look back on executive producer Dwayne Johnson’s own success, the film begins with old wrestling footage of him as The Rock, and then jokes at the end about how he created himself a career outside of wrestling. It calls to mind how Johnson became a superstar by branding himself as down-to-Earth on- and off-screen, making him one of the most inspirational superstars you can follow on Instagram. You get a comforting sense that the WWE is following his lead: even though “Fighting with My Family” is undoubtedly about branding the WWE as a fantasy factory, its biggest strengths are its wit and surprisingly big heart, celebrating underdogs who rumble for what they love.

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Once Upon a Deadpool (2018) - Film Review

Once Upon a Deadpool (2018)

Cast

• Ryan Reynolds as Wade Wilson / Deadpool / Juggernaut (voice) / Himself
• Fred Savage as Fred Savage
• Josh Brolin as Nathan Summers / Cable
• Zazie Beetz as Neena Thurman / Domino
• Julian Dennison as Russell Collins / Firefist
• Morena Baccarin as Vanessa
• Stefan Kapičić as Colossus (voice)
• Brianna Hildebrand as Ellie Phimister / Negasonic Teenage Warhead
• Rob Delaney as Peter

Director

• David Leitch

Writer

• Rhett Reese
• Paul Wernick
• Ryan Reynolds

Action, Comedy

Rated PG-13

117 minutes

 

 

 

Once upon a time, the producers of a little film called “Saturday Night Fever” realized that even though it was making tons of money, its "R" rating meant that those poor unfortunate souls who lacked a fake ID, older sibling, permissive parent or a multiplex with lax security were unable to fork over their hard-earned money to see John Travolta strut his stuff. Unwilling to live in such a world, they gallantly recut a new version of the film that removed enough of the fouler language and dicier thematic elements. Although that version of the film is all but impossible to see today, it served its purpose for both younger viewers and studio accountants.


Now, more than four decades later, the makers of “Deadpool 2” have elected to do the same by taking their decidedly R-rated enterprise and recutting it enough to land a PG-13 rating for a brief theatrical reissue just in time for the holidays, now billed as “Once Upon a Deadpool.” This time around, the reasons behind such a seemingly baffling decision—isn’t the whole appeal of the “Deadpool” movies based on the fact that they are unapologetically violent and potty-mouthed?—are a little more complex. Ostensibly, it is being pushed as a charity thing with Fox donating $1 of every ticket sale to the F--- Cancer organization, which, in keeping with the gimmick, has been temporarily renamed Fudge Cancer. That said, there are crasser business concerns at hand as well. With the last-minute bumping of the sci-fi epic “Alita: Battle Angel” from its holiday berth to next February, Fox had a hole in its schedule that such an endeavor could quickly and cheaply fill. Additionally, with the impending purchase of Fox by Disney, such a project could be seen as a test-run for the potential viability of a more family-friendly version of Deadpool without risking too much on such a gamble. 


To give all involved a little credit, the result is not just a heavily redacted version of the film that will be playing around the clock on basic cable in a couple of years. A new framework has been added to the mix in the form of an extended homage to the wraparound for “The Princess Bride” in which Deadpool (Ryan Reynolds) sits at the bedside of Fred Savage (Fred Savage) in order to read the story to him. (Okay, technically, Deadpool seems to have kidnapped Savage, but never mind.) After explaining the premise and then immediately trying to see just how far they can push the limits of the new rating (as they demonstrate, sometimes judicious bleeping can make a scene sound much filthier than it actually is), it then plunges into the film proper, albeit without the blood or the swearing, in some cases by using what appears to be alternate versions of scenes and in other cases by dropping scenes entirely. 


The results, perhaps not surprisingly, are somewhat mixed. On the one hand, the cutaways to Deadpool and Savage are pretty funny as the two riff on everything from the impending Disney-Fox merger, the way that the films sometimes using the snark factor to cover up lazy writing, and the fact that Savage no longer minds the kissing parts of stories that much anymore. On the other hand, the film itself—I assume no detailed description of it is required here—is still kind of dumb, though its freewheeling weirdness plays a little better than it did in the original. At the same time, if you are a parent who has not allowed your kids to see “Deadpool 2” yet in order to avoid exposing them to such crude and violent material, be advised that even this iteration is insanely inappropriate for the little ones (though I suspect that between DVD, cable and the Internet, kids with any interest in seeing it have probably already done so by now).


Is it worth the bother? I dunno. Those not on the Deadpool bandwagon already will probably not be converted by this version and those who are fans may find it to be a vaguely interesting curio they'll watch once. Yes, there is the charity aspect to consider, but instead of buying a ticket and having a dollar of it donated to Fudge Cancer, you could just as easily donate the full ticket price to the organization and skip the movie altogether. But if you do end up seeing “Once Upon a Deadpool,” be sure to stay through all of the end credits.

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The Grinch (2018) - Film Review

The Grinch (2018)

Cast

Benedict Cumberbatchas Grinch (voice)
Pharrell Williamsas Narrator (voice)
Cameron Seelyas Cindy Lou Who (voice)
Rashida Jonesas Donna Lou Who (voice)
Angela Lansburyas The Mayor of Whoville (voice)
Kenan Thompsonas Bricklebaum (voice)

Director

Scott Mosier
Yarrow Cheney

Writer (based on the book by)

Dr. Seuss

Writer

Cinco Paul
Ken Daurio

Editor

Chris Cartagena

Composer

Danny Elfman

Animation, Comedy, Family

Rated PG for brief rude humor.

90 minutes

 

 

Two of the most beloved Christmas stories are about characters who—at least at the beginning of the story—hate Christmas. Charles Dickens gave us Ebenezer Scrooge, who calls Christmas a fraud until the ghosts show him Christmas past, present, and future to show him what he has missed by hardening his heart to friends, family, and kindness. And Dr. Seuss (Theodore Geisel) gave us the Grinch, a furry green character with a dog named Max, who hates Christmas so much he decides to spoil the celebration of everyone in the community of Whoville by stealing all of their decorations, food, and gifts.

An instant classic since its publication in 1958, the book inspired an award-winning Chuck Jones animated television special starring Boris Karloff, then an overstuffed 2000 live-action feature film starring Jim Carrey in the title role, and now a very watch-worthy full-length animated theatrical release from the people behind “Despicable Me,” with Benedict Cumberbatch (using an American accent) as the Grinch. It does not surpass the Chuck Jones version (or having the book read aloud by a parent, which is still ideal) but it is far superior to the Carrey film and should become a welcome family tradition.

The visuals are delightfully Seussian, all curves and slants. I loved the mitten-shaped windows on one of the houses and the way that Whoville’s Christmas decorations make it look like a captivatingly intricate gingerbread village. In contrast, the Grinch’s mountain top lair is bare and cavernous, empty and solitary, far from the warmth of the Whovian homes.

We really do not need a backstory to tell us how the Grinch got so Grinch-y that he wants to steal all the decorations and gifts or why Cindy Lou Who (Cameron Seely) was awake on Christmas Eve. But feature-length movies are longer than Dr. Seuss poems, so we get a flashback to the young Grinch’s lonely holidays in an orphanage. In the book, two-year-old Cindy Lou gets up for a glass of water but here the elementary-school-age Cindy Lou wants to make sure she sees Santa on Christmas Eve because she wants to ask him for something very special. It is special because it is not for herself but for her loving yet exhausted mom (Rashida Jones). 

While this is not especially inventive, there are some clever parallels as the Grinch and Cindy Lou each have to come up with a plan for Christmas Eve. They write out their schemes with the same two words alone on a huge surface: “Santa Claus.” And both must assemble helpers and equipment without anyone finding out.

The smaller details are the most fun, especially when the Grinch brings on an enormous, yak-looking reindeer named Fred to pull his fake Santa sleigh. Or when a relentlessly cheery Whovian (Kenan Thompson) with the fanciest Christmas decorations in town keeps insisting that he and the Grinch are best friends.

We see the Grinch wake up in the morning for his breakfast, which includes a latte with a frowny face in the foam, prepared by his ever-loyal dog, Max. He then selects one from a rack of outfits labeled according to mood: “Wretched,” “Miserable,” “Very Miserable,” “Nasty,” and “Grumpy.” They are in fact all exactly alike and indistinguishable from his actual skin and fur. All the gadgets and equipment the Grinch creates are delightfully clever, the action scenes are energetic and funny, and the music, with a score by Danny Elfman and some standards and fresh and tuneful renditions of holiday classics, is superb, with a gorgeous Pentatonix rendition of “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” and Tyler the Creator’s brightly updated version of Thurl Ravenscroft’s classic “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” The message that Christmas is not about presents and candy canes but about kindness and being together is always welcome. And when the Grinch gets invited to dinner with Cindy Lou’s family, you may find your heart growing a couple of sizes, too.

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The Other Side of the Wind (2018) - Review of a Netflix Production

The Other Side of the Wind (2018)

Cast

John Huston as J.J. "Jake" Hannaford
Oja Kodar as The Actress
Peter Bogdanovich as Brooks Otterlake
Robert Random as Oscar "John" Dale
Susan Strasberg as Juliet Rich
Joseph McBride as Charles Pister
Edmond O'Brien as Pat
Mercedes McCambridge as Maggie Fassbender
Cameron Mitchell as Matt Zimmer
Paul Stewart as Matt Costello
Peter Jason as Marvin P. Fassbender
Tonio Selwart as The Baron
Claude Chabrol as Himself
Henry Jaglom as Himself
Paul Mazursky as Himself
Lilli Palmer as Zarah Valeska

Director

Orson Welles

Writer

Orson Welles
Oja Kodar

Cinematographer

Gary Graver

Editor

Orson Welles
Bob Murawski

Composer

Michel Legrand

Comedy, Drama

Rated R for sexual content, graphic nudity and some language.

122 minutes

 

 

In Jean-Luc Godard’s 1968 film “La Chinoise,” one of the characters, Kirilov, announces, “L’art ne pas le reflet du réel, mais le reel de ce reflet.” Which translates as “Art is not the reflection of reality, it’s the reality of the reflection.” In “The Other Side of the Wind,” a film shot in the years between 1970 and 1976 and later (only partially) edited by Orson Welles, a character named Mr. Pister, a very young, whippet thin and presumably callow square of a film critic—played, not coincidentally, by Joseph McBride, who would go on to become, besides a fine critic and scholar in general, one of the key voices keeping Welles’ often misunderstood legacy alive—asks its bete noire-legendary director figure, Jake Hannaford, “Is the camera eye a reflection of reality or is reality a reflection of the camera eye?”

This citation of Godard sounds more like a piss-take when Pister continues “or is the camera merely a phallus?” This is meant to sound ridiculous, and it does, and yet the more you reflect on what’s actually in “The Other Side of the Wind,” the more the idea of that camera as phallus—or at least as impotent phallus desperate to achieve tumescence and usurp the passive voyeur status of the eye/lens—gains currency. Among other things, this picture from the director of “Citizen Kane,” “The Magnificent Ambersons,” “Touch of Evil” and several other masterpieces both mainstream and hermetic, increases the sex-and-nudity quotient of the Welles filmography not by a percentage but by a power. 

The story, such as it is, concerns the 70^th birthday party of Jake Hannaford, portrayed with vanity-free abandon and lemon-sucking bitterness by John Huston, who looks like he’s been dragged through hell and spat back up onto earth because hell found him too hard to digest. To this party have been invited dozens of friends, enemies, well-wishers, and chroniclers. Journalists, academics, TMZ-avant-la-lettre footage collectors, documentarians, and out-and-out spies. The other thread of the story is of the movie Hannaford is trying to complete, a trippy, arty, uncomfortable, almost dialogue-free chronicle of a woman (Oja Kodar, Welles’ lover and a credited co-writer of the movie) walking nearly naked through the world and happening on all manner of orgiastic activity while pursuing a male biker whom she seduces in a moving car in a sequence that’s virtuosic, dreamlike, and squirm-inducing all at once. 

The Hannaford party is an assemblage of the footage shot by the invitees. In a narrated prologue, conceived and executed well outside of Welles’ purview, Peter Bogdanovich’s character explains the rationale behind the document. An extra-diegetic text before the film proper begins explains that this cut of Welles’ unfinished film is an attempt to “honor and complete” Welles’ vision. 

What vision it finally presents is a continually paradoxical one. It is a curse on cinema and a blessing of it. Its explorations of sexuality near explicitness, but its musings on the subject have to do with nothing but secrets. A sniping critic/historian played by Susan Strasberg harps on Hannaford’s camera fixating on his movies’ leading men. She recalls that Hannaford had affairs with all the wives of his movies’ lead males, and theorizes that this was his way of sublimating his desire for the men. Certainly Hannaford’s fixation on John Dale (Bob Random), the hippie-curled leading man of the new project, is not healthy. Dale came into Hannaford’s life while the latter was vacationing. The older man believes he saved the younger when he was trying to drown himself. A drama teacher brought to Jake’s party has a different story about Dale’s own ambition. Repressed homosexuality is not especially emphasized here as a betrayal of one’s self, but “Wind” is a movie in which everyone is selling everyone out, or at least is susceptible to doing so. Its web of relationships is vertigo-inducing, and the breakneck cutting, constantly shifting film stock, and seesawing aspect ratios don’t construct the easiest through-line by which to track them. 

“The Other Side of the Wind” is a very rich film and a very difficult one. I’ve seen it nearly three times now and what I intuit about the aspects of it that “work,” and those where the seams just show too nakedly shift all the time. Cameron Mitchell’s fired makeup artist, with his ridiculous straw hat and bathetic vaudevillian bearing, seems to have dropped in from an entirely different film, and I still can’t be sure that’s not entirely the point. Some of the compositions—an early shot on the studio lot, a low-angle into which move Mercedes McCambridge and a couple of other figures to make a nice Eisenstein-like three-figure composition that Welles expanded upon with just the right dolly-in camera movement—are vintage Welles, including uncomfortable closeups like those of Glenn Anders in “The Lady From Shanghai,” all of the tricks and trills pushed to their limits like a circus act gone mad. While the film-within-a-film, with its empty spaces and forced-perspective winks, is parodying Antonioni and other art-film directors, there’s also a self-critique or homage in the visual references to Welles’ own “The Trial.” In “They’ll Love Me When I’m Dead,” the fascinating documentary about the making of this film that’s also an excellent companion piece to it, Simon Callow, the actor, director, and Welles biographer says “I have a feeling, for which I have no evidence, that Welles didn’t want to finish ‘The Other Side of the Wind.’” This is followed by denials, some indignant, of the idea that Welles would not WANT to finish a film. Of course he wanted to finish; he was merely denied the opportunity. 

As it happens, I agree with Callow, and I think there is evidence: it’s the movie itself. As a vessel for Welles’ self-loathing, which by this point in his life was arguably bottomless, “Wind” itself needed to have no bottom. The hundred hours of footage from which Welles worked on the feature was packed with self-inflicted wounds upon which he could pour salt, particularly with respect to his tortured relationship to the film culture he helped create, and more specifically his personal relationship with Bogdanovich. Down to the pettiest little thing. When Bogdanovich’s Brook calls Hannaford a “rough magician,” after a speech in Shakespeare’s “The Tempest,” and Hannaford “confesses” to Brook that he knows not the meaning of the word “abjure,” those who have read Bogdanovich’s interview book with Welles, “This Is Orson Welles,” should be able to hear Welles himself pretending he doesn’t know who Mizoguchi is. 

In that book Welles says of Godard, “What’s most admirable about him is his marvelous contempt for the machinery of movies and even movies themselves—a kind of anarchistic, nihilistic contempt for the medium—which, when he’s at his best and most vigorous, is very exciting.” It’s not for nothing that Welles sets the ending of “Wind” at a drive-in theater, the inverse of a sacred movie palace, a place for the desecration of cinema and a pretext for sexual activity, and shoots it like it’s a touchstone site of the romance of the American West, which of course it is. Everything contradicts everything else in this film, while at the same time drawing perfect circular connections. What Godard had to say about Welles, in 1963, was this: “[M]ay we be accursed if we forget for one second that he alone with Griffith, one in silent days, one sound, managed to start up that marvelous little electric train in which Lumiere did not believe. All of us will always owe him everything.” Fun fact: on the slates for “Wind,” the cameraman was written in as “Bitzer.” If you get that joke—for “Wind” is a movie best appreciated only by individuals as enriched and as damaged by cinema as Welles was himself—you will get this movie.

 

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The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018) - Review of a Netflix Production

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

Cast

Tim Blake Nelsonas Buster Scruggs
James Francoas Cowboy
Liam Neesonas Impresario
Tom Waitsas Prospector
Brendan Gleesonas Irishman
Bill Heckas Billy Knapp
Zoe Kazanas Alice Longabaugh
Tyne Dalyas Lady

Director

Ethan Coen
Joel Coen

Writer

Ethan Coen
Joel Coen

Cinematographer

Bruno Delbonnel

Editor

Ethan Coen
Joel Coen

Composer

Carter Burwell

Comedy, Drama, Western

Rated R for some strong violence.
133 minutes
 

I’m not one of those reviewers who likes a particular type of Coen Brothers movie more than another. As much as I revered the filmmakers’ knotty, relatively somber “Inside Llewyn Davis,” I didn’t sit through “Hail Caesar” grumbling that I’d have preferred a more serious work.

It’s hard to pin down the brothers’ new film, “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs,” an anthology film that presents itself as a literal story book, first edition 1873. As the mournful air that supports the ballad “Streets of Laredo” (and other lyrics, as the movie demonstrates in its last story) plays, the book opens, the pages turn; a full-page illustration shows a moment from a tense poker game; and away we go.

Into a rather goofy singing-cowboy vignette, the title story, starring Tim Blake Nelson as a man in a white hat who addresses the viewer most cheerfully before he begins blowing holes in any number of dirtier men who won’t cooperate with him. Is he, as a wanted poster paints him, a “misanthrope?” No, he insists, he just doesn’t like to be, um, contradicted.

This episode is a gasp-inducing wonder, a perfect storm of Frank Tashlin and Sam Peckinpah stylings, suggesting this is going to be one of the more raucous and absurdist Coen outings. The next story, starring James Franco as an ill-fated bank robber, leads up to a punchline that’s one of the funniest in the Coen canon.

In the third story, “Meal Ticket,” the movie takes a grim, mean turn. Its protagonists are a taciturn, hard-drinking traveling showman, Liam Neeson, and his charge, an armless and legless young man with a great store of poetry and scripture at his command, billed as a great “Orator.” Beginning his “set” every night with Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” he speaks to ever-dwindling frontier audiences, compelling Neeson to make an arguably ruthless business decision.

 In “All Gold Canyon,” inspired by a Jack London story, Tom Waits—who fits so well into Coen World that it’s kind of a shock to realize this is his first picture with the filmmakers—plays a prospector for whom process seems more fulfilling than the accumulation of wealth. The next story, “The Gal Who Got Rattled,” featuring remarkable performances from Zoe Kazan, Bill Heck, and Grainger Hines, is also an adaptation, from a story by Stewart Edward White, but the Coens stack it with mordant ironies that not only make it their own, but make it perhaps the saddest of the tales here.

There’s a lot of killing in this movie, and many of those who suffer it are depicted lying down, with their eyes open, looking at the sky. In the movie’s final story, “The Mortal Remains,” one of a pair of bounty hunters, played by Jonjo O’Neill, tells his fellow passengers in a stagecoach of how, after his partner (Brendan Gleeson) has “thumped” one of their victims, he enjoys looking into that man’s eyes and watching as he negotiates the border between life and death, trying to find a state to which he can be reconciled. Do any of them “make it?” one of the passengers asks. “I don’t know,” the bounty hunter says cheerfully. “I’m only watching.”

This final segment plays like an extra-morbid but enigmatic coda to the prior proceedings. Then it hits you how, in a speech by Saul Rubinek’s  “Frenchman” character (who introduces his philosophy of life by anticipating Sartre’s statement that “we have only this life to live”), his insistence that in life you “cannot play another man’s hand” completes a circle:  extending the movie’s trajectory back into an animating situation in its first story.

What’s most bewitching throughout “Scruggs” is its sense of detail. Its meshing of formal discipline and screwed-down content sometimes give it the sense of a work that has been carefully and elaborately embroidered rather than photographed.

Do the Coens troll their audience? Yes and no. Movies require too much money and effort to predicate them merely on pranking people you don’t like. On the other hand, I had a conversation last fall with a great film scholar and critic who rather famously dislikes the Coens' work, and he was taking issue with the naming of the main character and ostensible hero of “Hail Caesar.” Josh Brolin’s good guy “Eddie Mannix” was named for a real-life character who was in fact a rather bad guy, an MGM-employed “fixer” who covered up major crimes by film figures and bullied potentially rebellious stars into doing the studio’s will. “Why would they want to ennoble Eddie Mannix,” he asked, and I said that, clearly, the movie wasn’t intended as any kind of portrait of the real Eddie Mannix, and that they probably just liked the name. Which I think is true. But the Coens are creators who rather effortlessly work on multiple levels, and I think it’s closer to the truth to say that they liked the name AND that they knew that using it would push certain people’s buttons, and they’re not just fine with that; they’re delighted by it.

Here, their adaptation of Western story modes goes directly against contemporary consciousness of Native American genocide and other issues. Because it’s a pastiche, it situates itself in an old-fashioned mode in which diversity is articulated only in terms of mutual antagonism. The only articulation of a Native American perspective comes in the form of a disdainful laugh one “Indian” warrior throws in the direction of a character with a noose around his neck. For the purposes of this marvelous and disquieting movie, it’s enough. Its pleasures—the endless succession of perfect shots of remarkable scenery, the gorgeous music by Carter Burwell and others that swells and dips like the landscapes themselves—are real, and acknowledged as such, but there’s something more real underneath it all. The book’s pages at the movie’s beginning are turned too quickly for a viewer without a freeze button to read its dedication and epigraph, but the latter might as well be a portion of the Russian grammar book sample Vladimir Nabokov used to open his 1952 novel The Gift, to wit, “An oak is a tree. A rose is a flower. A deer is an animal. A sparrow is a bird. Death is inevitable.”

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CAN YOU EVER FORGIVE ME? (2018) - FILM REVIEW

Can You Ever Forgive Me? (2018) 

 

Cast

• Melissa McCarthy as Lee Israel
• Richard E. Grant as Jack
• Marc Evan Jackson as Llyod
• Joanna Adler as Arlene
• Ben Falcone as Alan Schmidt

Director

• Marielle Heller

Writer

• Jeff Whitty

Writer

• Nicole Holofcener

Cinematographer

• Brandon Trost

Editor

• Anne McCabe

Composer

• Nate Heller

Comedy, Crime, Drama

Rated R for language including some sexual references, and brief drug use.

107 minutes

 

Despite her brilliant energy and comic timing, Melissa McCarthy has starred in a number of not-so-great and forgettable movies—a streak that ends with Marielle Heller’s “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” Here, McCarthy makes a grouchy curmudgeon into a surprisingly sympathetic figure, throwing off her likable persona to play someone who is cold to those close to her, and mean to just about everyone else. 

As a biographer who specializes in telling other people’s stories, Lee Israel (McCarthy) doesn’t value name recognition as much as her literary agent (Jane Curtin). She also doesn’t dress up for parties or mingle with other writers well, and it’s costing her professionally. After losing her job, her beloved cat taking ill and receiving an eviction warning, Israel adapts her writing skills into creating fake letters from famous names and selling them for hundreds of dollars. It becomes a wildly lucrative new career—one that attracts the attention of the FBI. In trying to avoid detection, Israel enlists her close friend, Jack Hock (Richard E. Grant), to keep the fraud going until the feds catch up with them both.

Like Heller’s debut, “The Diary of a Teenage Girl,” her next film is a period piece of an era that’s not too far from our memory yet features stories we likely haven’t seen before. Her first film was about the coming-of-age misadventures of a teenager (Bel Powley) growing up in 1970s San Francisco. This time, Heller sheds the Polaroid palette she used in that movie for a look that captures the in-between feeling of its era—one where the grimiest of years had passed yet working writers could still afford to live in Manhattan. Visually, it’s a style that balances the sleek qualities of skyscrapers and the warm tones of wooden shelves and books in an old dusty shop. Outside, Israel walks through a dreary looking New York City, as if the weather reflects Israel’s less-than-sunny outlook on life.

The range in McCarthy’s performance cannot be overstated. At almost every turn, her character gives the audience plenty of reason not to like her. Yet, with Heller’s sympathetic approach and McCarthy’s acting, the movie humanizes her beyond caricature. The part is far from any number of one-note roles McCarthy has been boxed into. Here, she plays a combative personality who really only shows regular kindness to her ailing cat and whose social awkwardness also causes her to get defensive against those trying to help or befriend her. When on a date with a bookshop owner who likes her work, Israel fumbles through flirting with the woman. There’s so much vulnerability just below this character’s prickly surface, yet the audience only gets to see those moments in short bursts.

To balance out the caustic on-screen personality, Grant plays Hock as Israel’s polar opposite in almost every way. Where Israel is most comfortable being frumpy and grumpy, Hock is charming and dresses up to compensate for his transient lifestyle. She struggles to connect with outsiders, while he connects with almost everyone who crosses his path. He’s a bit like a grown-up raconteur in the spirit of Grant’s character in “Withnail & I,” a devilishly charming person who shakes the dust off someone whose become too complacent with life. Israel and Hock make a delightful odd couple of friends, meeting regularly for drinks at one of the Village’s oldest gay bars and trading friendly barbs at each other. Their delightful rapport feels so lively, that when it shatters, the silence that moves in between the two best friends becomes the most painful part of Israel’s demise.

“Can You Ever Forgive Me?” is at once a low-stakes crime drama, a buddy comedy, a period piece and a loving tribute to a woman who at this point in her life and career did not feel loved. The movie not only revisits the real Lee Israel’s old New York haunts like the bar Julius', but also returns to the scenes of some of her crimes, the now-fading independent book shops where she sold her fake letters. Even the jazz standards that play throughout were chosen because they were some of Israel’s favorite songs. “Can You Ever Forgive Me?” comes from a place of understanding and love that few other biopics do, and it makes this difficult character a joy to meet.

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Night School (2018) - Film Review

Night School (2018)

PG-13 | 1h 51min | Comedy | 28 September 2018 (USA) 

 

Director:

Malcolm D. Lee

Writers:

Kevin Hart, Harry Ratchford | 4 more credits »

Stars:

Tiffany Haddish, Kevin Hart, Brooke Butler

 

 

"Night School" is the barest wisp of a movie—a light, earnest, goofy comedy about a high school dropout (Kevin Hart) belatedly trying to earn a General Equivalency Diploma, in a night school classroom run by one of those super-tough but inspirational teachers (Tiffany Haddish) that movies can't get enough of. Nothing about it makes a lot of sense, but then, nothing about classic old comedies starring people like W.C. Fields or Laurel and Hardy made much sense, because they about oddballs getting into trouble and then trying to get out of it.

All you really need to know about this movie is that it stars Hart, who's developed into modern American cinema's go-to Everyman clown; that Haddish is underused but still hilarious; that the supporting cast is filled with memorable eccentrics (including Keith David and Loretta Devine as the hero's parents), and that it's directed by Malcolm Lee ("The Best Man" series, "Girls Trip"), a maestro of shenanigans. I have no idea how it'll play on a small screen, but on a big screen with an audience, it's a kick. Lee, his cast, and Lee's go-to editor Paul Millspaugh usually manage to find at least one laugh and two smaller ones even in scenes that feel slapped-together. (The credits list six screenwriters, including Lee and Hart.)

"Night School" is a feature that has enough plot to fill a short film—except for the setup, which is needlessly elaborate. Hart's character Teddy Walker wants a GED so he can get a job as a salesman at a firm run by an old friend, in order to replace the job he lost at a barbecue grill store after he accidentally destroyed it; this is all in service of maintaining Teddy's spendthrift lifestyle, which is calculated to make his girlfriend Lisa (Megalyn Echikunwoke) think he's rolling in money even though he's perpetually one paycheck away from the poorhouse. There's a much simpler and more relatable story underneath all that: Teddy was a weak student who was called dumb all his life. If he can finally earn that diploma he gave up when he quit high school, he'll conquer the demons of his past.

This isn't a "Saturday Night Live" movie, but it has that "SNL" problem of wanting to be heartwarming and raucous at the same time, and not always succeeding at either ambition. Teddy takes GED classes at the same high school he dropped out of decades earlier. The principal is his old nemesis Stewart ("SNL" cast member Taran Killam). Stewart used to torment Teddy until Teddy publicly embarrassed him. Now that he's running the place, he's determined to make Teddy's experience as unpleasant as possible. He likes to speak in African-American vernacular and swing a bat around menacingly, like Morgan Freeman's principal character in "Lean on Me." Teddy's teacher Carrie (Haddish) is a multitasking, super-competent badass who hollers like a drill sergeant and sometimes takes the students to a mixed martial arts gym, puts them in a cage, feeds them questions about English, math, history and science, and pounds them if they don't answer correctly and quickly. (Professor Keating, she ain't.) 

The classroom is a demographically diverse gang of lovable weirdos, all of whom have troubles of their own. Mackenzie (Rob Riggle) is a dropout who's been destroying his back working as a mover all his life, and wants a GED so he can get off the truck and move behind a desk. Teresa (Mary Lynn Rajskub) dropped out because she got pregnant by a domineering jerk that she's still married to. Luis (Al Madrigal) is a Latinx waiter Kevin contrived to have fired in a scene too complicated to go into here; he speaks mangled English and fantasizes of becoming the next Justin Bieber. Jaylen (Romany Malco) is a paranoid conspiracy theorist who's convinced that machines have taken over. Sometimes he stares into the distance and you just know he's imagining the opening of "The Terminator." A felon named Bobby (Fat Joe) is attending night school via Skype. He takes his lessons so seriously that when he's interrupted by an attempted shanking, he roars "I'm trying to learn!" as he thrashes his attackers. And so on. They all have big (or small) dreams, like Teddy. But because night school is just too demanding, they start dreaming up shortcuts to graduation. And that's where the trouble starts.

Hart holds the whole thing together—he has a classic deadpan face, and is even funnier reacting silently than when he's rolling around on the floor and shrieking his head off—and the comic spark between Teddy, Carrie, Stewart, and all of the other characters is undeniable. Every actor one or two little arias of verbal tomfoolery or wild slapstick. Best in show goes to the sequence where the gang tries to sneak into the school after hours; the crew lets Bobby participate via iPhone, and the climax is a pratfall that would've killed all three of the Stooges. But the most distinctive moments are built around wordplay—a character hearing the word Roomba and mentioning that his wife takes rhumba classes, for instance, or another character being informed that he has "a processing disorder" and screaming, "prostate cancer???"

Admittedly there are probably only a handful of people who find this kind of material funny (reviewer sheepishly raises hand). But it's to the credit of Lee and his collaborators that "Night School" pitches a comedic tent big enough to contain something silly for everyone. Thinking back on the movie, I'm torn between wanting it to be more than it is, and being impressed that something so loosely assembled didn't instantly fall apart. It's overlong and shaggy, and alternately too thin and too dense, and it keeps veering into sentiment that it doesn't entirely earn. But in the end, you still feel for the characters, because the actors are so appealing, and because the movie understands that even though most films rarely utter the initials GED, in the world beyond the screen, it's a goal worth sacrificing for. 

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Johnny English Strikes Again (2018) - Film Review

Johnny English Strikes Again (2018)

PG | 1h 28min | Action , Adventure , Comedy | 10 October 2018 (Philippines) 

Director:

David Kerr

Writer:

William Davies (screenplay by)

Stars:

Olga Kurylenko, Emma Thompson, Rowan Atkinson 

Who knew that we’d see Rowan Atkinson return to the world of secret spies in Johnny English Strikes Again? The 2011 sequel Johnny English Reborn was already an unexpected follow-up. I asked myself if anyone asked for this, but the question I should be asking is another one entirely: will anyone care? From the looks of it, the film will drive enough interest as it hits on all the marks to appease to its target demographic.

  

Quick! A hacker attack exposed every MI6 agent to the world! What do you do? You call in a retired agent, that’s what. Some would say he’s the best, others will urge that he’s the worst, but nevertheless, it’s up to Johnny English to uncover who the evil-doer is before he or she endangers England and possibly the rest of the world. All lives depend on this guy.

I was looking forward going into this film. I’ve only seen the first 5 minutes of the second movie. Despite my meager history with the franchise, I craved a satisfying comedy that got out a few chuckles.

The series lies in a weird spot. Each film came out at least 6 years apart from its predecessor with a different director of an unimpressive filmography at the helm. This time around that mantle went to David Kerr. Yup, I haven’t heard of him either. His area of expertise lies in TV with this movie being his cinematic debut. It’s not an impressive choice, but with a franchise like this one, the shoes aren’t too big to fill-in.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I laughed more than expected. This movie can be funny especially if you’re a fan of British comedy. Some may find it too predictable or simple, but in this case, Strikes Again creates the opportunity to add finishing touches in a form of clever twists or subtle jabs.

Sadly, this isn’t always the case. Some jokes don’t take these extra steps and run on for far too long. Two long sequences in particular fall on their faces despite their good intentions. It wastes the concept’s opportunity and settles for predictability. These inconveniences would be deal breakers, if not for the tone.

By the end of the day, a gag is a gag. It’s either cheaply hilarious or cheaply unimpressive. In this case, the final act predominantly goes with the latter while the first two with the former.

The film opens fast. It gets to the point and takes you on a fun ride. You appreciate the things it throws your way. It makes the most out of the light and silly tone. That’s it!

Johnny English is the comedic take on the James Bond franchise and it does so with its own flavor. For example, it takes the time to comment and at times make fun of today’s day and age. Johnny English is a man of his own mold. He does things the old-fashioned way, free of any safety nets, obligatory procedures or fresh tech. Things like this allow it to distance itself from a blatant parody.

Instead of effortlessly making fun of popular genre attributes, it takes its spy story elements and weaves them into the narrative as if they were their own. Even if some jokes aren’t original, the movie persists on staying away from bromidic references.

For some reason, the final act double downs on the bad gags that were once excusable. The characters that added something to the story are now useless. Their purpose is to deliver solutions in style of ex machina. In the end, Johnny English is the only character who ends up mattering at the expense of others.

The ending doesn’t give us proper closure. It’s just…there. The director’s resume shows its unimpressive teeth in this instance. The film only lasts 89 minutes. I’m sure it wouldn’t have killed anyone if they added a minute or three to fix these issues.

Johnny English: Strikes Again perfectly deserves a viewing when it happens to air on TV some day in the future — ironic isn’t it? It’s not an insult, rather a recommendation. The movie provides a good amount of laughs that will brighten up your day even if it’s through at least one joke. All of its faults ultimately don’t dwindle your fun to the point where you will hate this movie outright.

The movie is another relish of the week. Easily entertaining, yet if you’ve seen Atkinson play his typical caricature, you won’t find innovation. Unless the mandate is to relieve yourself of any stress, there is no need to rush out to your local theater.

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Assassonation Nation (2018) - Film Review

Assassination Nation (2018)

R | 1h 48min | Action , Comedy , Crime | 21 September 2018 (USA) 

Director:

Sam Levinson

Writer:

Sam Levinson

Stars:

Odessa Young, Hari Nef, Suki Waterhouse 

 

Every so often, a movie comes around that is bound to stir up conversation due to its subject matter and tone. Assassination Nation is that movie in the present, and I can guarantee one thing: it’s going to polarize many individuals. Some are going to leave the theater appalled at what they just witness, others will sing this movie’s praises to the high heavens for a very long time. As for me, I’m somewhere in the middle, but there’s no questioning that this is a product that simply can’t be ignored.

Lily (Young) and her friends are going through high school, dealing with all the troubles that most people who go to school in the modern age handle: selfies, nudes, guys, you name it. But the entire town of Salem is turned upside down when an anonymous hacker leaks everyone’s information out into the public. An outcry ensues, one that leads to excessive violence and bloodshed.

Eventually, the collective anger of the town turns towards Lily and her friends, and they’ll be lucky if they survive the night.

Assassination Nation director Sam Levinson is following in the footsteps of his father, Barry, as he continues his career in the industry. This particular film marks Sam’s second outing as a director and it’s certainly his most high-profile project to date.

Directing runs in the family on occasion. The 47 Coppolas that direct help cement that idea. Weirdly enough, I often feel that we as a movie-loving mass don’t make a big enough deal about movie families. Maybe it’s each person’s quest for originality in the industry, but if you ask me, it’s pretty cool to see so many relatives succeeding together. Who knows, maybe there will a top 10 list of the best movie families on the site soon. I have that kind of power here at MovieBabble, you know.

Hot take alert: Assassination Nation is the best shot movie of 2018 so far. The film isn’t what you’d call “beautiful” — it actually bucks against that idea in order to make everything appear scuzzy — but in terms of how Sam Levinson uses the camera, this is one mesmerizing motion picture.

There’s a wonderful sense of style to Assassination Nation, one that feels as new-age as the subject matter surrounding the characters with techniques such as three-way split screens and stylized social media notifications that somehow manage to add a rather insidious feel. After awhile, the use of an iPhone ping both diegetcally and non-dietetically becomes one of the more unsettling noises in the entire movie.

As you watch Assassination Nation, it’s abundantly obvious that this movie was filmed with a crystal clear vision in mind, both within the brazen nature of the film itself and with how it is filmed. Levinson utilizes some of the most glorious one-shot sequences you’ll see all of this year as the thriller aspects of Assassination Nation begin to take root. One in particular made my mouth drop to the floor with its brilliance. It’s one of those sequences where you think to yourself, “this can’t possibly be one continuous take,” so you begin to focus on every tiny detail to see if the director is cheating with faux cuts. But, because Levinson has such a strong hold on this movie, you’ll never find those mistakes, that is if they even exist.

I really can’t stress enough how perfectly executed this movie is from a technical perspective; it’s an amazing experience. And that’s why it frustrates me that Assassination Nation didn’t create better characters to go along with its technical skill.

As you quickly find out through a few moderately humorous, stylized beats, much of Assassination Nation is quite heightened. Actually, all of it is heightened, but you get the idea. You’ll know instantly that you have a dark satire on your hands. By extension, a lot of the characters have their quirks that come to define who they are, but the film never really goes deeper than that. Once could say that the film spends a lot of time with the Lily character, but even she doesn’t have much going on; she’s a chess piece for this movie to move around as insanity ensues.

Assassination Nation is all about the plight of the modern woman. That’s a pretty great idea for a stylized thriller if you ask me — society is scary sometimes! However, that entire thread is undercut due to these paper-thin characters. How exactly am I suppose to care about these women if they’ve all been reduced rather annoying, recycled tropes?

Remember mother!? You know, everyone’s favorite movie from 2017?

For better or worse, Assassination Nation almost immediately reminded me of Darren Aronofsky’s experiment that made so many angry last year. Assassination Nation is actively trying to shock and appall you at every turn as it preaches its themes. It’s such a visceral experience that many will simply reject it out of principle.

Now, Assassination Nation is not a clear product of a director that’s high off his own skill, nor is it a blending of religious and natural allegory. But like mother!, its themes are painfully obvious, leaving no room for interpretation. Mr. Levinson, we get what you’re doing here; there’s no need to name the town “Salem.” The two films also do not have many identifiable characters in which the thematic power of the movie can take root.

But the most striking similarity between the two films is that they contain conflicting messages. For mother!, it was mixing Jennifer Lawrence’s character between being an allegory for Mother Nature and also the Virgin Mary, creating an instance where the two sides of the coin essentially cancel each other out in how they are presented. For Assassination Nation, the idea of mixing a darkly satirical look at the plight of women conflicts with a sudden shift towards an earnest plea to the audience. The film also goes out of its way to shoot these females in a titillating fashion while also showing them all in a less than flattering light. Everyone’s fake, until they aren’t. What exactly am I supposed to feel here? Assassination Nation just can’t make up its mind, and it left me feeling cold.

Powerful yet undeniably sloppy, Assassination Nation is one of the better technical achievements you’ll see this year — if only its subtext was just as strong! Sam Levinson puts together some absolutely incredible sequences that will send shivers down your spine with every waking second. His command for staging and executing this film on a visual level is nothing short of miraculous. You should see Assassination Nation for these reasons alone…if you can stomach it, that is.

And yet, I’m torn, and it’s so unfortunate that I can’t bring myself to like this movie more. With such paper-thin characters and muddy thematic heft, I find Assassination Nation tough to admire for anything more than a directing showcase. I’m hoping that Sam Levinson continues to flex his directing muscles, because if he works with the right material next time around, we could have an instant classic on our hands.

 

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Smallfoot (2018) - Film Review

Smallfoot (2018)

Cast

Channing Tatumas Migo (voice)
James Cordenas Percy (voice)
Zendayaas Meechee (voice)
LeBron Jamesas Gwangi (voice)
Gina Rodriguezas Kolka (voice)
Yara Shahidias Brenda (voice)
Ely Henryas Fleem (voice)
Jimmy Tatroas Thorp (voice)

Director

Karey Kirkpatrick

Co-Director

Jason Reisig

Writer (based on the book "Yeti Tracks" by)

Sergio Pablos

Writer (story by)

John Requa
Glenn Ficarra
Karey Kirkpatrick

Writer

Karey Kirkpatrick
Clare Sera

Editor

Peter Ettinger

Animation, Comedy

Rated PG for some action, rude humor, and thematic elements.
109 minutes

“Smallfoot” is an animated musical about … totalitarianism?

This may sound like a wildly contradictory concept. But the family-friendly film from director and co-writer Karey Kirkpatrick (“Over the Hedge”) and co-director Jason Reisig is surprising in its forward-thinking foundation. If only the dialogue and visuals matched the daring of its ideology.

Among the multiple screenwriters is the team of John Requa and Glenn Ficarra, who’ve shaken things up in the past most notably with the influential “Bad Santa.” “Smallfoot” urges kids to think for themselves. To question what they’ve been taught. To challenge authority. It takes place in a mountaintop society of yetis where the rules are literally etched in stone and must be followed for fear of banishment. “Smallfoot” could be viewed as a statement on the restrictive nature of government, religion or both. It’s a bold and exciting thematic choice for a film aimed at mainstream audiences of all ages.

Ah, but there’s the problem. “Smallfoot” IS aimed at mainstream audiences of all ages, meaning it must be palatable on a mass scale. And so the look of the film is blandly pleasing, and the antics have a familiar “Looney Tunes” squash-and-stretch aesthetic, and the songs are reminiscent of ones you’ve heard in previously successful animated movies. The opening sequence is pretty much a beat-for-beat recreation of the joyous “Everything Is Awesome” at the beginning of “The LEGO Movie” (although the song that accompanies it is not nearly as insanely catchy). Later, upbeat chase music throughout calls to mind the perky score of the “Despicable Me” movies.

Channing Tatum lends his voice to a sunny, furry beast named Migo, who’s essentially a yeti version of Chris Pratt’s LEGO construction worker, Emmet. He begins his day in a cheery way, being psyched about mundane stuff and joining his neighbors in a tune about how “we like living this way.” Migo’s dad, Dorgle (Danny DeVito), has the responsibility of starting each day for the village by summoning the giant, orange snail that travels across the sky; he does this by slingshotting himself through the air and hitting a gong with his head. (You may know this better as the sun rising.)

Everyone performs his or her job and stays in his or her place. Do as you’re told, blend in and always follow the stones: Those are among the chief guiding beliefs in this society. The leader of them all is the seemingly benevolent Stonekeeper (Common), who wears the rules as a massive vestment made of individually carved rocks. Any knowledge of the outside world comes in scattered and confusing pieces; a roll of toilet paper is mistaken as “The Scroll of Invisible Wisdom,” a ski pole is a horn and a down jacket is a pelt. It’s another rip-off of “The LEGO Movie”: taking everyday household items and making them seem mysterious.

But one day, when he wanders astray, Migo encounters a Smallfoot—a human who has crashed his plane and landed in the snow-capped mountains near the yetis’ home. Each has heard legends about the other; each is terrified of the other. One of the movie’s more consistently amusing bits is the distorted way each hears the other’s voice. The yeti comes off as gruff and growly when he’s really just trying to have a pleasant conversation; the human, by contrast, is squeaky and skittery when he’s trying to be calm and cool.

Meanwhile, down below in a town at the foot of the Himalayas, wildlife TV host Percy (James Corden) desperately tries to salvage his career by faking a confrontation with a yeti. But he doesn’t have to pretend for long when Migo shows up, following his newfound curiosity. From there, “Smallfoot” tracks the unlikely friendship between the two, and the ways in which it expands both characters’ understanding. (Unfortunately, this includes a wrong-headed, rap-karaoke version of Queen and David Bowie’s iconic “Under Pressure.”)

Also along to help expand Migo’s horizons is the Stonekeeper’s daughter, Meechee (Zendaya), a strong-willed, scientifically-minded young woman who’s secretly been daring to think for herself all along. And burgeoning actor/sometime basketball player LeBron James lends his voice to the character of Gwangi, a hulking, purple-hued beast with a heart of gold. But most of the characters have a shaggy sameness to them in drab shades of cream and blue, and they’re stuck saying variations of the same lines over and over.

But what’s exciting about “Smallfoot” is the way its characters increasingly push against what they’ve been told is true their whole lives—even if the lies were concocted to protect them. The Stonekeeper’s immediate reaction upon seeing a human with his own eyes is to deny, deny, deny. He refutes the scientific evidence that’s right in front of him. The Smallfoot is #FakeNews.

All of which makes this superficially sweet film so startlingly relevant. If only it had more panache in the execution—then everything truly would have been awesome.

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