Backroom FUN!

When was the last time you had fun at a movie, the last time one kept you engaged or guessing till the end, the last time one was filled with an imagination that satisfied yours? I still haven't gotten over a certain science fiction movie (Prometheus) of several years past that I psyched myself up for months before seeing, and half way through it, the light bulb went off over my head- oh shit, this is as good as it's gonna get... and that's not very.

Ever since, I've learned my lesson well and whenever I feel that pull, I instinctively start to shut down- which is a good thing... for instance, I expect nothing from Disclosure Day (despite having an avid interest in UFO's since the seventies); but then, I've learned to expect nothing from Steven Spielberg in general. Nevertheless, Backrooms certainly looked different- stark, disparate, intriguing... and therefore a nine out of ten chance of being a major disappointment.

It's advertised as a horror film- and today's horror fans will be horribly disappointed. Ixnay on the standard blood, gore, and jump cut scream theatrics! Most of the movie takes place in a terribly surreal, but utterly minimalist setting. It spring loads your own imagination to keep you in a state of heightened anticipation since it neither behaves in nor speaks the language of the typical horror flick. The suspense stems in great part from the minds of the two lead protagonists, but there are enough twists and turns to keep you as unbalanced as the world they find themselves in, and despite the repetitiveness of the scenery, one never knows what to expect around the next bend, or how it will all climax or conclude. In short, it's what The Shining wanted to be in so many ways (sorry, Stanley)- and it does not disappoint. 

PS- Oh, and the guy who made this alternate universe of the surreal... 20yrs. old! What were you doing at 20?!?

Nuremberg

Nuremberg is the well crafted and riveting recounting of the initial Nuremberg trials, particularly the one dealing with Hermann Goring. Unfortunately, as is the case with many a based on a true story retelling, essential characters, incidents and portrayals are altered... significantly- not by changing actual historical results, but by the misrepresentation of the details, players and actual events that led to those results! And yeah, those (anything but) minor alterations made specifically for a film adaptation can have a significant impact in the motivation, accuracy and understanding of those consequences as they played out in real life... Crowe is a convincing Goring and Rami Malek, an equally convincing, but significantly fictionalized, version of the real Dr. Douglas Kelly. I can understand why multiple characters are fused into one, or actual historical occurrences edited or omitted for the sake of a film's brevity, but when you alter the very nature and actions of the facts as they occurred, one does tend to significantly distort reality- even as revealing it... 

That said, perhaps the most redeeming part of the movie is how it noticeably foreshadows future histories... much closer to home.

Bogonia

I suppose one could describe it as a black comedy. And it certainly reverberated from challenging (to watch), to bizarrely amusing. But I found the ending (which I was fully expecting to be predictably disappointing) both original, and poignant- an ingenious touch that made the whole endeavor curiously worthwhile...

To Be Young Again...

I used to go the cinema about every other weekend pre-Covid. I still get a charge watching a good movie on the Big Screen at a theater- being able to escape my humdrum life in this darkened expanse where I'm allowed to enter another world not of my making. Unfortunately, this experience has been severely curtailed post-Covid- local movie theaters, big and small have permanently closed their doors; and since the amount of movies shown are less, the ones of note are even less so...

Caught Stealing was a nice aberration to that formula- it was fun, exciting, well written, funny, and not when it had to be. Didn't hurt to look at Zoe Kravitz either. Not exactly the greatest review, admittedly- I was just happy to see something that was, in fact, so full of life (good and bad), well paced and capable of holding my interest throughout for all the reasons above... The end.

A Complete Unknowning

Never been a Dylan fanboy, but was curious about... the mystique. Why were so many who supposedly knew better (much better) reduced to Swiftian level mesmerization at the mere mention of his name? Are the legendary level lyrics superseding the barely proficient vocal ability and musical command enough to justifiably raise him to his godlike, mythical status? 

If ya asked me, he'd be just one of many stars in the universe of that particular time, stars of whose work I admire, love and respect to a much higher degree. But not here to argue, nor will A Complete Unknown answer or settle much of anything. What it does, is supply a decent scenario as to the time, background and circumstances that allowed the meteoric rise to occur. Actually, it doesn't even do that. In the film, Dylan arrives in NYC in his scraggily jeans and plaid shirt, spontaneously hooks up with the right people, who get him the right gigs, and practically overnight- studio, album... godlike fame! Who knew?!?

There's also a certain electrical problem, but I digress... If you're looking for insight, understanding, an insider's knowledge as to what made him tick and allowed him to set the scene afire- ain't gonna happen. The movie succeeds in the performances. Timothy Chalamet is utterly convincing in portraying the young upstart center of the universe- as convincing as anyone could possibly portray a person completely unknown to everyone including himself.* BTW, Edward Norton is every bit as incredulously convincing as Pete Seeger,** a completely transparent human being, the polar opposite of Dylan. Interestingly, one does get some measure of the intricacies in the love/hate/mutual respect tennis match between Dylan and Baez (another name startingly portrayed). Curiously, we also learn how Dylan and Johnny Cash formed their mutual admiration society! And alas, as in most biopics, a good amount of the scenarios portrayed did not actually happen as depicted... 

Recommended? Absolutely! Although there's one more thing I'd sure like to know- how did the scruffy looking vagabond from '61 evolve into one of fashion's ultimate Mod icons by '65?

*One thing I'll always give Dylan props for was when Ed Bradley of 60 Minutes fame asked him how on earth he thought up his (Nobel winning) lyrics, to which he responded that they literally wrote themselves as if dropped from the ether. Which in my mind only supports the hypothesis that our brains are merely the individual receivers of a mutual mass consciousness, not its individual creator. If you listen to many of his 'interviews,' you'd swear Dylan got a body double and instructed him to say (or mumble) whatever he liked- no matter what would fall out of the imposter's mouth, it would be greeted with unparalleled gravitas... Listen to interviews of Malcolm X or Edward Snowden- you immediately sense you are in the presence of pure, unabated intellect. Listen to Dylan and it's pure... WTF?

**Much as I respect the guy, there's a banjo twangling 24/7 in the background of my particular version of hell.

Portrait by...

I was immediately intrigued by the portraits that graced this very interesting interview. They seemed uncharacteristically... harsh, and intriguing- more in your face straightforward than your usual portrait of a well respected art icon in their latter years. By the second to last shot, yeah, I was sure- before having the last shot pretty much scream it out loud...

Photo:  ©...

The Promised Land

 

What a joy it was to see this film! Bleak, barren, unforgiving... That is what we must endure throughout the vast majority of this film that depicts a life as unforgiving as the very soil that our protagonist must somehow tame and cultivate. And then there's Mads, the Nordic, thinking man's version of Charles Bronson. 

And, of course, you sit your butt down and wait for him to set things right- and wait, and wait, and wait... But every little particle of hope that is so meagerly vetted out is met with an avalanche of oppression and despair. You begin to doubt a decision making process that seems to yield only more pain and woe. Maybe he's just more stubborn, than wise.  But in the end, he finally does achieve what he originally dreamed- only to throw it all away to regain that which made the journey worthwhile... 

Origin

 

Origin is director Ava Duvernay's riff on Caste: The Origins Of Our Discontents by Isabel Wilkerson (played by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor). It's not quite what I expected as a film, which is a pretty dumb thing to say since I had no idea what to expect going in. The film certainly does touch one emotionally,* but most of all, it challenges you to... think.

Isabel Wilkerson's thesis is that what we take for granted as racism in America is actually a system of caste. Not everyone buys in, but she makes quite the compelling case, and I think it has a lot going for it, even if, the end result is just a rose by any other name. Wow, that was the shortest summation dismissal possible- which is why you really have to read the book/see the movie!

Slavery, systematic racism, critical race theory, segregation, Anti-Semitism, Jim Crow, colorism, caste, class... all the aforementioned have their place in said discussion. But the movie also goes further, or perhaps I should say detours into... the writing process, life itself and how one perseveres through it all- while experiencing the loss of your: spouse, mother and best friend.

Wilkerson closely studies the caste system in India, the Holocaust in Nazi Germany along with racism in the good ol' US of A. And I do love the analogy she uses when confronting those who proclaim, Well I didn't own any slaves! No, you damn well didn't, and no one's saying you did. But it's like growing up in a house that shelters you, protects you, and also comes with its own faults: leaky plumbing, roof that needs mending, etc, etc. You might not even have been around when those problems started showing, but they're your problems now- and you acknowledge the good with the bad, and deal with the problems you may not have created, but nonetheless have to address. Yeah, damn good analogy- what should simply be called common sense, what so many Americans today actively refuse to even contemplate, let alone practice...

*if seeing that human beings have to clean out human refuse by going into pits unprotected and up to their very necks in it for a scant daily living in the very same year that we have assholes walking the streets donning $4,000 computer goggles doesn't affect you...

The Curse Of The Middle Class

The Zone of Interest is probably the most imaginative and utterly banal movie ever made. It follows an aspiring young couple and their family (did I mention their utterly lovely black pooch) as they strive to achieve and possibly surpass their destiny of middle class success. They have a small but comfortable home with a large backyard that also contains a: small pool, a vegetable/flower garden and a picnic area. They're a fairly contented lot, but as with any journey of success, there is always the free floating anxiety between doing even better, or having it all disappear...

Their yard is bordered by a rather obtrusive, oversized wall; behind said wall one can sometimes make out the occasional sounds of random gunshots and the harrowing screams of those either begging for their lives, or perhaps pleading for an end to them. And, of course, there's also the matter of those smokestacks further in the distance that never seem to stop, I'd guess one would want to take note which way the wind blows before setting out the laundry....

Three Hours, Twenty Six Minutes...

Killers of the Flower Moon* explodes on the screen like gangbusters, the energy of the entire universe on display in one miniscule but rollicking Boom town in the dusty plains of Oklahoma. The attention to detail is almost overwhelming, like a Hieronymus Bosch painting come to life. At least at the beginning... before gradually focusing its grip on a specific few lives that accentuate the society as a whole- one based on and dominated by the inherent, systematic racism of the era, which in this case was also fine tuned to the very specific situation, a very specific people found themselves in a very specific area. That is, a system of laws and subterfuge that made it possible for Whites to kill, connive and steal the money and property away from their rightful indigenous owners. 

I remember first finding out about this particular bit of American history a couple of years ago... you just couldn't make it up! What's harder to fathom, the deceit and skullduggery on the macro, societal scale, or the micro, personal scale: a man who supposedly loves his wife as he slowly poisons her, or the wife who so knowingly suspects and allows him to do it? Unfortunately, the film drags us through this slow arduous process at such length until I too felt I was ever so slowly succumbing, feeling my life force ever so methodically drained... Mollie Burkhart, portrayed by Lily Gladstone, looks every bit the Mona Lisa- the enigmatic smile come to life, hiding a secret strength and wisdom well beyond mortal man. But alas, it is not to be... And Leonardo DiCaprio spends the last third of the movie with this prominently featured scowl, looking for all the world as if he's sucking on a quarter of a lemon rind.

The surreal and historically accurate closing scene is one of almost comic relief, and much needed energy- but way too little, way too late. Despite it all... recommended, if only for the history lesson. Bring your stadium buddy! 

*Seriously, how could you possibly read a movie review without the realization that it contains spoilers by its very nature? And I will spare you the insufferable amounts of explosions and gaudy special effects in the super hero trailer nightmare I had to involuntarily endure...

The Quiet Girl

No explosions, gun fights, super heroes or their obligatory super powers- no CGI, period! This is about as bare bones a movie and plot line as one can possibly get- and all the above, all the more worth celebrating in any gosh darn movie these days! Presented in near square format, it is beautifully shot- like as essay of color photographs shot with a twins lens reflex.

The Quiet Girl (did I mention it's entirely in Irish) is aptly named, she's just trying to survive without friends or any close attachments in an essentially loveless family. The father is a selfish, uncaring bastard and mom is barely treading water herself with the rest of the kids (and another on the way) et al...

She is sent to a cousin's farm for the summer, a couple (who we later find out) has recently lost their own young son. The wife is a loving sort who immediately takes to the child, her husband, hardened from the pain of loss is a tougher nut to crack, but slowly succumbs.

It's hard even for the audience to warm up to the girl, she is after all, "quiet," somewhat aloof (as can be expected), and not particularly cute in a way that would make one automatically warm up to her. But one eventually does take to her- it's just a kid desperately wanting to belong and be loved, by anyone. And she finally, finally, finds just that with her new relations, only to be returned at summer's end to her loveless home environment. The sense of doom is visceral, it's the kind of existence that quashes any hope, any dream, any will to continue- the kind of gut punch that breaks child or adult alike. It ends with her running after her temporary family after they reluctantly drop her off and depart for their farm, her father running after her to forcibly reclaim that which he wants no part of...

To Be, Or…

I’m a fairly big history buff, a good part of why I’m partial to documentary type photography. So I was fairly intrigued by this historical mystery/puzzle of a film. Honestly don’t give that much a damn about the hierarchy of English royalty, but I’m forever fascinated by how history is recorded for the ages in all its grandeur, infamy and... inaccuracy.

The heroine of The Lost King, far from a professional academic, is looking for that something larger to give meaning to her pedestrian life. She establishes an interest in King Richard III upon seeing the play and gradually becomes obsessed with his life and legacy, particularly- what the hell became of his remains?

So she stops working, starts researching, and through sheer force of conviction (and procuring official funding) manages to commence an archaeological dig for his centuries deceased royal highness in a… parking lot car park.

Long story short, they do indeed find the body, her primary role in achieving said feat is minimized for posterity’s academia’s sake, and discover that said king was not a hunchback, but a survivor of scoliosis!

Linoleum

Linoleum is rather painfully described as "comedy, drama, science fiction," when fantasy would have done just fine (same with Everything Everywhere All At Once). One thing's for sure, it's nothing what you think it will be. It's a little bit guy building a rocket in his garage, a little bit coming of age, a little bit middle age crisis, and a lotta so much more...

And this little movie delivers it all, or at least tries to, if you let it- we're all connected, everything happens for a reason (except when it doesn't), life is what you make it, except when it has other plans... The movie challenges you from the start and may test some viewers patience before pulling all the plugs at the very end where it actually pays more than a passing homage to none other than... 2001! As for the title- yeah, got me on that one.

All The Beauty And The Bloodshed

A truly great David and Goliath story, and its totally based... on a true story! Nan Goldin is a definite known name in the photography world, but when tackling the powers that be, Multi-Billion Dollar powers that be (with international connections), an artist in a niche genre is not exactly on a level playing field with the gods of finance.

Throughout their legal proceedings, The Sacklers never once expressed remorse, or any semblance of human emotion or empathy, for the real life victims of their greed- avoiding bad publicity and further financial consequence were their only considerations. But All The Beauty And The Bloodshed is not just about the mostly triumphant victory* of art over blood money, that is, how Goldin waged a ridiculously uphill battle against the financial purveyors of America's ongoing opiate epidemic, it is also about her tragic youth and upbringing, the travails of her adult life, and finally, about the art she continued to make despite the personal trauma. Brave woman, braver warrior, brave human being and artist.

*The Sacklers will still have more money at the end of the time allotted by the court to disperse their $6 Billion dollar fine- than they do now thanks to the careful manipulation of their monies.

Addendum: The Fraenkel Gallery currently has an exhibition of Goldin's more recent work (including a slide show) till 4/29.

(In)Justice

Photo: © Stan Banos

I remember when they crucified Anita Hill in the '90s for the sake of the pubic hair fabulist (and Supreme Court Justice to be named) Clarence Thomas, he who decried Affirmative Action, only to employ his own very personalized version to outwit and defeat his critics in a basically All White Congressional 'jury,' by ever so sanctimoniously declaring himself the victim of a "high tech lynching." Giving credit where credit due, it was the most effective and sickening display of playing the "race card" by someone who professed to be so adamantly against the slightest hint of it. And the very same White Congressmen who most profoundly condemn said "race card" whenever allegedly used in society at large, cheered wildly as he unashamedly owned and abused it to his, and their advantage.

We were again treated to the same basic storyline in 2018 when human beer mold Brett Kavanaugh was accused of rape by yet another totally believable and truthful female witness, one Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. Mr. Kavanaugh lashed out against those who doubted his denial of the accusations with some rather vehement verbal attacks and histrionics that at times bordered on the unhinged.

But this time- there would be an FBI investigation! I remember watching a former FBI agent on a cable news channel describing what such an investigation would entail. He assured viewers that such investigations were thorough beyond imagining, where no stone would remain unturned. Every friend and acquaintance of either party would be meticulously investigated, witness reports corroborated, and agents would personally drive Ms. Blasey around until the house in question where the alleged rape occurred would finally be located and confirmed! Have no doubt, all would be revealed...

Of course, none of the above happened. With Trump at the helm, it was a most deliberate and guaranteed whitewash specifically designed to get his man in. And once again, yet another absolute shit of a human being who openly mocked and degraded any semblance of law and justice was gleefully seated on our nation's highest court. 

Now comes a documentary called Justice, a film that exposes key bits and pieces of viable (and incriminating) information that were purposely ignored, not pursued and intentionally left out of the official 'investigation.' And one can only hope that the film throws open this case anew and ultimately leads to something akin to its title...

Babylon

A mish-mosh of a film throughout, Babylon speeds through earliest Hollywood Blvd. like a cocaine fueled, slapstick farce, occasionally slamming the brakes for spurts of sophomoric, overbaked drama which unfortunately comes off as sadly ludicrous. Could have been a seriously good movie- if someone had stuck to the script... any of the half dozen or so to be found within its three hours.

The Whale

I hate tear jerkers, not because I'm so manly (I hate football too)- but because I don't appreciate the attempt at being so obviously manipulated, emotionally or otherwise. And everyone in The Whale, and I mean everyone, has the reddest, teariest eyes in all Hollywood, all deep within the weight of their own personal suffering. That said, this is one of the best flicks I've seen in a long, long time...

Brendan Fraser plays Charlie, a morbidly obese, failed father struggling for redemption while slowly but proactively committing suicide. We're thrust into his claustrophobic world and never leave it for the entirety of the movie- and we are never bored. The movie does an incredible job of recreating a home dominated by one's chronic illness: the age long grime and creases in the furnishings, the monocolor gloom- you can smell the staleness of the air...

Eventually, it becomes clear why Charlie's devoted nurse and friend (Hong Chau- the stem maitre d' in The Menu) is so forgiving and understanding; he has a face (oh, what a face!) that simply defies animosity, and a personality to match- despite his major fuck up(s), like neglecting his relationship with his daughter (Sadie Sink- a major acting tour de force in her own right).

It's amazing how a whole lifetime of hurt and experience can be encapsulated into one small apartment already bursting at the seams from its one occupant, all in one week's time, but Darren Aronofsky achieves just that. 

Tar

There's a haunting line in Memo from Turner- "You're always working perfectly, but there's a part that's not screwed on." Cate Blanchett simmers on low throughout Tar. The most telling scene is not the wham bam, barn burner, but the one in which we see her deal with a small child. She could have effectively dealt with the situation in ever so many ways, as an adult can with a child, instead Tar chose to ever so subtly spread her pathology on...

2 Movies I Hate W/O Seeing!

The latest Matrix iteration. God it looks awful! The first edition was an all time Sci-fi masterpiece, the second... meh, the third- pretty damn good. Maybe I'll catch it online and prove myself wrong- be nice, but in this case- doubt it.

The second is the over hyped, over exposed to the Ever Lovin' Absolute Max... Licorice Pizza. Maybe it's great, maybe I'd love it- BUT... I'm so damn sick of hearing all the advertisements 24/7 about: just how good it is, how much the critics love it, how much everyone loves it, that it already has me vomiting on cue- BASTA!

Big Ed!

Seen a bunch of flicks in the past coupla months (some even in an actual movie theater); have meant to "review" each and every one, just haven't got 'round to it. I'm happy to say I'm finally over my Bond fixation, finally gotten over my original childhood movie action hero at my ripe old age- how embarrassing is that!? Saw a rather amusing little fantasy called Lamb (mistakenly advertised as a horror flick) which had one of the coolest closing shots ever; a morality tale called Azor on how a meticulously scrupulous banker at first haltingly, and then enthusiastically, abandons his lifelong, professional tenets for the fruits of success; and most recently- Eadweard! Who knows how accurately it depicts his personal life (as opposed to his professional exploits)- but it does note that he was the last person to kill his wife's lover in cold blood, and get off scot free in a court of US law simply because he was... "justified." It also ingeniously displays a rather magical scene in which Muybridge presents the walking image of an elephant on his Zoopraxiscope. You actually experience the absolute wonder humans must have experienced upon first seeing the complexity of such lifelike movement reproduced in such astonishing detail- in the convenience of one's own home. He was most definitely a man obsessed with the wonder and intricacies of motion and movement, and how to dissect and display all of it in part and in whole.