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Comedy
CODA, at times, feels like it’s the product of a screenwriting algorithm rather than that it was written by an actual human being. The movie hits every emotional storytelling beat you would expect an Inspiring and Uplifting Dramedy to hit. That criticism aside, director Sian Heder – who wrote the screenplay – is able to conjure some magic from her familiar and well-worn overcoming adversity scenario. Most of that magic is down to the wonderful and inclusive cast.
Though very different in story and theme, Paul Thomas Anderson’s Licorice Pizza is destined to play on a double bill in repertory theaters and stoners’ home theaters alongside Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Both films are fantastic examples of the hangout movie: light on plot, heavy on atmosphere, these are movies that are more about an aimless, meandering pace and watching the characters simply be and not necessarily do. Tarantino himself coined the term to describe perhaps the first ever hangout movie, Rio Bravo.
Other examples include Fast Times at Ridgemont High and American Graffiti – Anderson has credited both as major inspirations for Licorice Pizza – as well as Anderson’s own Boogie Nights and Magnolia.
Child Grooming is a fitting alternate title for Red Rocket. In at least one interview piece focused on Sean Baker’s new film, the director is described as “playing with fire” when it comes to the subject matter of the movie. In 2017, Baker directed my number one film of the year, The Florida Project. I praised that movie for practicing radical empathy. In my description of The Florida Project for my top ten list of that year, I stressed that “we have a duty to look after each other. And yes, even when we don't agree with someone's life choices. Yes, even when we think they don't deserve it. No one deserves to live on the fringes of our society because they don't have enough of the only thing we seem to care about: money.”
Baker and his frequent writing partner, Chris Bergoch, test the limits of the radical empathy I singled out in my praise for The Florida Project. It’s like Baker wanted to know if I, personally, would grant the same empathy to an abuser, someone who will use anyone to get what he wants. Baker does it for laughs in a movie that focuses on a 40-something-year-old man harnessing every ounce of his charm to convince a 17-year-old girl to run away with him so they can make a fortune together in porn.
The subtitle of The French Dispatch could have been: Wes Anderson makes me feel bad about myself. Modern (useless) Facebook meme pop-psychology would tell me that no one but me is responsible for the way I feel about myself. And yet. As someone who tries to move through the world with a reputation of being a cinephile, it took me watching about 20 minutes of Mr. Anderson’s new film to realize (as I do when I watch any of the director’s other films) how little I really know about this art form that I claim to cherish.
The radiant and talented actor Jessica Chastain probably saw a certain little gold statue in her future when she bought the rights in 2012 to Tammy Faye Bakker’s life story. There’s nothing the Academy loves more in a best performance category than an actor radically altering her or his appearance for a role: Robert De Niro as Jake La Motta in Raging Bull; Charlize Theron as serial killer Aileen Wuornos in Monster; Nicole Kidman as Virginia Woolf in The Hours. Oscar really loves it when beautiful people are perceived as uglying themselves up for a role.
Chastain certainly fits the bill with her performance as disgraced televangelist Bakker in the dramedy The Eyes of Tammy Faye. The phosphorescent makeup and wild hair styles that were Bakker’s trademarks make Chastain practically unrecognizable – especially in the latter parts of the film.
When David Lynch mined more weirdness from his iconic television show in 2017 for Twin Peaks: The Return, David Nevins, the CEO of Showtime, where the new season aired, described it as “pure heroin David Lynch.” If you prefer your outlandish comedy to have the same level of straight, uncut weirdness, Barb and Star Go to Vista Del Mar won’t disappoint. Barb and Star is pure heroin Kristen Wiig.
Wiig wrote the film, about two lonely midwestern women who travel to Florida for a life-changing vacation, with Annie Mumolo. The two also co-wrote the smash-hit comedy Bridesmaids, and they star as the eponymous Barb and Star in the new film. While Bridesmaids is hilarious, and has its share of outrageous moments – Maya Rudolph defecating in the street in a wedding dress, for example – it’s fairly straightforward comedy territory. Wiig and Mumolo’s off-kilter sketch-comedy sensibilities are totally unleashed in Barb and Star.
Airplane! and I both turned 40 last year. This is one of those films that made me who I am today. Because of my parents’ HBO subscription – it was an add-on to your cable package before it was an app, kids – and our shiny new VCR (on which we taped EVERY MOVIE EVER), I don’t really remember a time when I hadn’t watched this brilliantly crafted spoof of ’70s disaster movies at least 1000 times. It was one of the first DVDs I ever bought to begin my movie collection back in the very late ‘90s (what I was shocked a few days ago to learn that teenagers today are referring to as “the late 1900s,” which makes me feel like I lived through the Civil War).
Airplane! also has the distinction of being the very first movie my now-wife and I ever saw together. She should have been clued into the fact that the rest of her life would be dominated by movies when I suggested a late dinner, then a midnight screening of Airplane! at the historic Inwood Theater for our first date. Her cool points multiplied by five when her response to my suggestion was, “I love that movie!”
Prince Akeem has a problem. When he becomes King of Zamunda, he’s troubled by the centuries-old tradition of his kingdom which dictates that only a male heir can inherit the throne. Akeem has three daughters and no sons. Luckily for Akeem (and the movie), it is revealed that he does in fact have a male heir, albeit an illegitimate one, living in America. Unfortunately for us, Coming 2 America leans on an outmoded story of Akeem being desperate to cement his legacy through his son, only to make an enlightened realization, in the movie’s final minutes, about his daughters. (This barely counts as a spoiler, since it’s painfully obvious what’s coming within the first fifteen minutes of the movie.) It’s a story that might have felt progressive had it been made in 1988, the same year this sequel’s original installment was released.
The uninspired comedy Buffaloed takes a handful of gags and uses them over and over again to fill its feature length. The way the locals of Buffalo, NY speak is one of those gags. They way they look is another. And that’s really about it. The classic film Fargo also pokes fun at the way its characters speak. But there’s so much more under the surface of that film. Buffaloed is a one-note comedy that ends up feeling disposable.
Set in Buffalo, NY, the debt-collection capital of the world, Peggy Dahl is determined to be successful and break out of the chain of poverty in which she was raised. Her father died when she was very young, and her mother pays the bills (just barely) by running an unlicensed beauty salon out of her house. (Ten cent wing night at the local bar – this is Buffalo, remember – helped keep Peg and her brother fed on their mother’s tight budget when they were growing up.)
Gather round for the latter-day tales of the Two Great Ones, Bill S. Preston, Esq. and Ted “Theodore” Logan, aka Wyld Stallyns. As we all know, these prophets saved our society from being totally bogus and instead insured our most excellent future.
Ok, we probably don’t all know that.
In fact, there’s a pretty good chance that if you’re under the age of about thirty, you had never heard of these two sweet-natured lunkheads and the perplexing cult status of the late 80s/early 90s movies that featured them: Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey.
As someone on the margins of Bill and Ted fandom – I watched both the earlier films around the time of their original release (when I was twelve or so) and liked them, but I didn’t think about them much after that – I was more bemused than anything else when I heard about this newest sequel, Bill and Ted Face the Music.
After revisiting the first two entries in preparation for the new Bill and Ted, I found them both as affable and goofy as I had remembered. They’re the movie equivalent of junk food, to be sure, but guileless and silly enough to be harmless – except for those few dated homophobic slurs that are played for laughs.
I can happily report that Bill and Ted Face the Music is in the exact same vein as its predecessors.
Not since Darren Aronofsky’s mother! in 2017 has a movie so successfully and hauntingly evoked an oneiric state as Charlie Kaufman’s fever dream vision I’m Thinking of Ending Things. If I were a more clever writer, I might invent a Kaufmanesque conversation between the two filmmakers, in which Aronofsky calls to praise Kaufman’s idiosyncratic and disturbing new work of art. Since I’m not that clever, you’ll have to settle for a more standard review in which I praise Kaufman’s unique vision while also wrestling with a few of the picture’s shortcomings.
The theater closures and new release postponements caused by the coronavirus pandemic have affected my review release schedule. Because the local release of the movie I was going to write about this week has been indefinitely pushed back, I’ve been asked to hold onto my review of it until it opens here in Dallas. So, I’ve decided to take a look at the next film in my ongoing 100 Essential Films series. If you missed the first one, you can find the explanation for what I’m doing here.
Film number eight is the second in a trio of films from 1939, a banner year for movies. Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is the second entry in the series from director Frank Capra (the first was It Happened One Night).
This one was a first viewing for me. While I didn’t respond to it quite as positively as I would have guessed based on its reputation, I did admire the cast, Capra’s direction, and some of the plot elements. Like every other film in the series so far, I borrowed a Blu-ray through intra-library loan (thankfully I got it before our library shut down due to a city ordinance to combat coronavirus).
I suspect this might be the first movie to showcase the proverbial “smoke-filled back room,” where political deals are hashed out among power brokers. I’m not sure, though. I haven’t had much time to do research, as I’m focusing on my social distancing. Stay safe out there!
What’s the next step up from cotton candy when comparing entertainment to food? Pop rocks? Gummy bears? I’m asking because Netflix’s release To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You is that. It’s not as ephemeral as cotton candy; it feels more substantial. That’s mostly due to its charm, which comes from the effervescence of the entire cast. P.S. is the sequel to Netflix’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, the movie that took the internet by storm in 2018. Both films are based on author Jenny Han’s trilogy of best-selling books. The third film is in post-production as of this writing.
The centerpiece of director Noah Baumbach’s searing Marriage Story is the kind of scene you might guess would be at the heart of any movie about a disintegrating marriage. It’s a fight. Husband Charlie and wife Nicole are in the bowels of the painful negotiations involving who gets what in the divorce, the most important of which is custody of their young son, Henry. The fight takes place in Charlie’s newly leased apartment; the apartment is a way to show the court that the New York theatre director is serious about being close to his son, who is staying with Nicole in Los Angeles.
Leave it to the comedic genius behind movies like What We Do in the Shadows and Thor: Ragnarok – to date, the wackiest (and funniest) departure from the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s “house style” – to give us a Wes Anderson movie with Adolf Hitler as a supporting character. Apologies if that’s a bit reductive, but it’s too perfect a comparison not to make. Taika Waititi has established his own style and aesthetic in movies like Boy and Hunt for the Wilderpeople, but in Jojo Rabbit, the Anderson comparisons are apt.
Kevin Smith has officially given up on his film career. One of the seminal figures responsible for turning the word “independent” into a noun to describe an entire American cinema movement in the early-to-mid 1990s now can’t be bothered to come up with actual titles for his movies. The comedian/writer/podcaster, whose real career is simply being Kevin Smith, isn’t even interested in making sequels anymore. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot isn’t a sequel to Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. This isn’t Clerks III or Mallrats 2. In Smith’s own words – because he clearly doesn’t give a shit who knows how lazy he’s become – Jay and Silent Bob Reboot is “literally the same fucking movie all over again.”
And let me tell you, he ain’t kidding.
This is the next entry in my ongoing 100 Essential Films series. If you missed the first one, you can find the explanation for what I’m doing here. Film number five is the romantic comedy It Happened One Night from 1934. Many hail the picture as the first screwball comedy ever made – although 1933’s Bombshell might have a little something to say about that. Class commentary and romance are the chief preoccupations of both the genre and It Happened One Night. I first saw the movie in college, about 800 years ago, so it’s technically a revisit, but this go-round was almost like seeing it for the first time. In fact, I might have slept through part of it in college; those 8 am classes were a killer… Just like the other films in the series, I borrowed a Blu-ray through intralibrary loan. The disc was produced in 2014 by the Criterion Collection, and although the majority of the film looks sparkling, there are a few shots that show how challenging the 4K restoration must have been.
Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood (OUaTiH) is Tarantino’s re-creation of and loving, yet gleefully revisionist, tribute to this fractious period in Hollywood’s history. Without giving too much away, this film is a spiritual cousin to Tarantino’s 2009 film Inglourious Basterds. That movie incensed more than a few people with its shockingly gory climax that reimagined the end of World War II.
The same will probably be true for OUaTiH. Tarantino puts his unique spin on the bloody, unspeakable events that closed the 1960s. When creating works of art, I have no need for the artist to feel constrained by the facts when representing real events. A big part of art is reimagining the world in new, different, and interesting ways. A possible exception is documentaries, but even those have exceptions to the rule. Mainly, the purpose Tarantino’s divergence from truth serves in OUaTiH, at least for me, was one of catharsis. Just like in Inglourious Basterds, we get to see good triumph over evil, in the bloodiest, most outrageous way possible…
It feels like an incredibly trite observation to make that the story director LuLu Wang is telling in her film The Farewell is universal despite being centered around a Chinese family. It’s one of those go-to descriptors us white people love to pull out when we enjoy a story that doesn’t revolve around people who look like us. As if we have to be the ones to swoop in and proclaim something worthy because we were able to connect with an entire cast of non-whites for 90+ continuous minutes. We’re so used to whiteness being centered in virtually all popular entertainment that it feels like the biggest triumph – something on a UNIVERSAL scale – when that isn’t the case.
The Farewell isn’t universal despite featuring an exclusively Chinese cast. The Farewell is universal because it tells a very moving story that is steeped in the messiness of human emotion and relationships.
I was 15 in 1995 when the first Toy Story was released. That’s a bit older than the target audience for Pixar’s inaugural feature film, but I vividly remember seeing it and being dazzled by both the story and the groundbreaking animation. I’ll be 40 next year. I’ve been wowed by each successive Toy Story installment released over the last quarter century. Both the astonishing leap in digital animation technology and the touching stories involving old pals Sheriff Woody, Buzz Lightyear, and the rest of the gang – Toy Story 2 and 3 consistently bring me to tears with every revisit – get better with each new film.
That’s definitely the case with the seemingly impossible jump in animation quality between Toy Story 3 and Toy Story 4. The plot, however, isn’t quite up to the level of the earlier films, especially Toy Story 3, probably the strongest of the series. While “cash grab” is too strong a phrase, this is the first entry in the franchise that feels like the artistic vision got a little fuzzy.
