Archive

Comedy

Emma (2020 film) - Wikipedia

I have seen several Emmas.  I believe this is my favorite, primarily, because this Emma (Anya Taylor-Joy) is the perfect blend of headstrong, spoiled, meddlesome and smart.  Better, when she finally gives in to her desire for Mr. Knightley (Johnny Flynn, who was totally different as the lovelorn, quiet good guy in Amazon’s excellent Vanity Fair), the timing is spot on, and she and Flynn play very well together.  Best, when they argue, they stand their ground and then in charming fashion, fix a détente that all but they see as love.

Here is a not very good “Badly done” scene, mainly because Johnny Lee Miller just snaps and Romola Garai looks like she hasn’t a clue what he’s talking about.

Here is a terrible “Badly done” scene.  Jeremy Northam is very good, but Gwyneth Paltrow starts at weepy and then just folds.

 

In this film, when Knightly upbraids Emma (I cannot find the scene), she does not crumple in the revelation of her awful behavior.  She’s still pissed and fighting.  Only later, after some time, does she make amends and then, not in a simpering fashion.

Moreover, this a master class in wordless chemistry.

Finally, you cannot do much better than Bill Nighy’s fussy, movingly emotional Mr. Woodhouse, plagued by drafts and daughters who abandon him, and Josh O’Connor (Prince Charles in The Crown) who chews scenery by the fistfuls as Mr. Elton.

Relevant.

On Amazon Prime.

Pete Davidson Comedy 'Big Time Adolescence' Snapped Up By Hulu ...

Is it possible to have a Pete Davidson marathon?  Why, yes.  Yes it is.  I watched two Pete Davidson flicks in a week and enjoyed them both, with varying levels of enthusiasm.  In Big Time Adolescence, Davidson plays Zeke, a man-child who bonds with the little brother of a high school girlfriend.  When they break up, Zeke keeps hanging with the kid (Griffin Gluck).  When we settle down with them, Zeke is a stoner townie in his mid-twenties with a gaggle of amusing stoner pals and as much drive and ambition as Cheech.  He’s offbeat, almost impenetrable, and when you do get in that addled head, the most you find is ennui and poor judgment with a little bit of decency.  As coming of age films go, this one is adept, often very funny, and refreshingly short (91 minutes).  It also features nice support from Jon Cryer, Gluck’s frustrated father, who has to confront Davidson’s cluelessness not only as a danger to his high school age son but as a rival for his affections.

Sunday night, it was time to shell out the $20 to watch Davidson’s semi-autobiographical movie, The King of Staten Island (Davidson co-wrote the picture with the King of Bro-Comedy, Judd Apatow).  Here, Davidson plays a 24 year old man-child, stoner townie with a gaggle of amusing stoner pals and as much drive and ambition as Chong.  He’s offbeat, almost impenetrable, and when you do get in that addled head, the most you find is ennui and poor judgment but a little bit of decency.  It also features nice support from Marisa Tomei, Davidson’s frustrated mother, and Bill Burr, a neighbor who becomes her suitor.  Burr has to confront Davidson’s cluelessness as a danger to his own son, and, lo and behold, Davidson bonds with the kid.

The King of Staten Island (@TheKingofSI) | TwitterApatow’s flick, however, is a bumpier ride for several reasons.  First, Davidson leads here, and he’s just not an empty-headed nice guy, but he’s also suffering from depression, suicidal ideation and unresolved sorrow over the death of his father when he was 7 years old.  I’m not going to say Davidson was bad, because he has his moments.  But it was much tougher duty, and his performance is spotty.  Sometimes he nails it, sometimes you can almost see the terror in his eyes that he’s not cutting it.  Worse, at 136 minutes, the picture is way long, and it drags (Apatow’s daughter plays Davidson’s sister and it almost appears as if her role was beefed up by Daddy).

Finally, Davidson’s character in In Big Time Adolescence was understandable because, no matter his actions, you perceived him to be a dummy.  A sweet kid, but, also an airhead.  [SPOILERS BELOW] So, when he advises his young charge to sell drugs in order to enhance his cred, it seems reasonable.  Stupid, but in the context of his character, entirely in line.   In Apatow’s picture, Davidson is not a dummy, but rather, a dick, and way too old to be the kind of dick he portrays.  So his unattractive excesses are difficult to endure.  A lazy stoner entranced by SpongeBob while his mom and sister pack up her car for college?  It sets your teeth on edge, but as my kids would derisively retort, “Okay Boomer.”  But giving a 9 year old kid a tattoo? Or whining like a little bitch because his mother deigns to date?  It’s too much, and Davidson does not have the chops to communicate the inner haunting that can get you and him over.  It’s an amusing film, and has a few solid gut-busters, but if you had to choose one, save yourself the 46 minutes and the $20 and go with the former (which is free on Amazon Prime).

Amazon.com: California Split POSTER (11" x 17"): Posters & Prints

Robert Altman directed this film after his three masterpieces – M*A*S*H, McCabe and Mrs. Miller, and The Long Goodbye – and directly before his next one, Nashville. It has all the hallmarks of an Altman film . . . overlapping dialogue, a leisurely almost poetic pace, and a complete disregard for traditional narrative.

The film is essentially about two degenerate gamblers – George Segal and Eilliot Gould – who haunt the poker rooms, casinos and race tracks of California and Nevada in search of the juice. While Gould is carefree and seemingly happily stuck in the mire, Segal has one foot in the straight world and one foot in the dens of iniquity. He owes, he craves, and he can’t wait for the next shot at a pot, so much so that when Gould leave him for a week, he feels as if he’s being ripped off, that somehow, his partner is keeping a score away from him.

Unlike some of Altman’s better films, there’s no real character development here.  Segal and Gould simply happen upon each other at a poker room and start hanging out and kibbitzing, often with two working girls who live with Gould.  Altman is so intrigued by the machinations of the lowlife, he forgets that we are only here to see what happens to these addicts.  And, until the end, not much does happen to them.

Ultimately, Segal comes to a fork in the road, but it is a bolt from the blue.  We don’t know much about him and Altman doesn’t really let us in.  So, when he takes one road over another, it is of no real moment.

Still, it’s a fascinating picture with a real affinity for the disreputable denizens of the 70’s cocktail bar, race track and casino.  Altman doesn’t glorify but he does offer a vivid portrait of the world.

 

Fighting With My Family (DVD) - Walmart.com - Walmart.com

Cute, funny, and sweet paint-by-numbers comedy about a British wresting family (headed by a hilarious Nick Frost and an unrecognizable Lena Headey/Cersei Lannister) whose daughter (Florence Pugh) gets her shot at the big league – the WWE.  While she goes to Miami to train under the tutelage of an uncompromising Vince Vaughan, her brother and wrestling partner is left behind, sparking an emotional crisis.  Apparently, this is a true story.  The Pugh character is none other than—
WWE star Paige on sex-tape humiliation: 'I don't wish that for anyone'

Written and directed by Stephen Merchant (the Gestapo chief in Jo Jo Rabbit).

There is nothing new here, but it’s crisp and has its moments, and the characters are winning.  On Hulu.

Image result for jojo rabbit

Taika Waititi’s children’s fable is a wondrous achievement, a beautiful story of the primacy of love in an era of hate, and a rare edifying film that can be enjoyed and appreciated equally by parents and children.  The year is 1944, and JoJo is a zealous member of the Hitler Youth at a time when for Nazi Germany, the end is nigh.  So complete is JoJo’s fealty to National Socialism that he has an imaginary friend, Adolf Hitler himself (Waititi), who guides him through the insults and indignities of adolescence while keeping JoJo’s eyes on the greater menace.  For Jo Jo, the former includes being a weakling in his Hitler Youth contingent, a deceased sister, and a missing father.  The latter is the omni-presence of true vampires in his daily life, said vampires being Jews.  Until JoJo realizes that not only does he have his own Anne Frank in residence, but his mother (Scarlett Johannson) is not the committed Nazi he once revered.

There are traces of Wes Anderson’s Moonrise Kingdom in Waititi’s parable, and even a little bit of Roberto Begnigni’s Life is Beautiful, but the kitsch and pathos of those films are muted.  The Nazis are broadly comic, from the disaffected leaders of Jo Jo’s Hitler Youth squad (Sam Rockwell, Rebel Wilson and Alfie Allen) to the local Gestapo (Stephen Merchant), to Hitler himself, a gossipy, anachronistic cartoon of a cohort who engages a brain-washed JoJo in the manner of a Valley Girl on Snapchat.

Waititi has a deft touch with child actors, a skill shown here as well as in his hilarious and moving The Hunt for the Wilderpeople.  He depicts them not as precious or wise beyond their years, but rather, as they are, low on guile and high on instinct and snap judgment.  Even in his film What We Do In The Shadows, Waititi treats his characters (New Zealand vampires who are the subject of an MTV-esque “The Real World”) as silly teens (though they are, of course, thousands of years old), negotiating house tensions, competition with werewolves, and the internet with easy hurt and immediate wonder.  The results are always piercingly funny and clever.

Critics either explicitly or implicitly evince discomfort at the use of Hitler for such silly purposes (“a sugary fantasy in the most unlikely places…But in the process, it buries the awful truth” or “Waititi’s silly, irreverent performance takes the pomp and vigor out of the blustering Fuhrer, declawing the towering 20th century figure of hate. However, in doing so, he declaws his own satire, too”).  These takes are both unsurprising and depressingly easy, but if you think Hitler is simply too monstrous to lampoon, you are forewarned.

Even if it is a bridge too far, I strongly recommend you traverse it.  This is a beautiful, satisfyingly quirky coming of age film, natural and notable for its sweetness.  I’m not sure if it was the best film of last year, but it is the one I enjoyed best.

1DFF60DD-7EE7-47FA-B6C8-622AB5A87CAF

Rian Johnson’s (Brick, Looper) modern update to the Deathtrap/Murder on the Orient Express-style whodunnit is clever, tight, witty and consistently engaging. The wealthy family of a famous mystery author (Christopher Plummer) is suspected of having offed him at a get-together in his ornate mansion (a cop observes “Look around. The guy basically lives in a clue board!”) and the investigation centers on his nurse, Marta (Ana de Armas), who is alternatively claimed and condescended to by the clan. The investigation is a wellspring of black humor, biting cynicism and hilarious family drama. Everyone (and everyone seems to be in this) is excellent, particularly Daniel Craig as a Southern drawling Hercule Poirot.

Two nits. First, in a mystery, having a character who is congenitally incapable of lying is an egregious cheat. If it weren’t for Johnson’s ingenious plotting, I’d have been more put off. Second, the politics are for the most part deft but also a little clunky. The family fighting about Trump was funny and authentic, with its hypocritical righty who digs Trump and treats Marta as a maid and his lefty cliche’ amping to 11 and invoking the Nazis. It was also even-handed – a leftie social justice warrior who has befriended Marta ends up being a true Judas . Still, Johnson rhetorically over-dunks on the lot of the Richie Riches at the end, which is the only misstep in what is otherwise a seamless, lively flick.

Image result for the farewell
A touching and heartfelt tribute to a matriarch.  Smart, deep and without an ounce of treacle, this is the holiday movie you should watch instead of the grotesque Love, Actually.  Upon hearing of the terminal cancer diagnosis for her Nai Nai (grandmother), Billi (Awkwafina), who left China when she was seven, returns from New York with her family (along with other family members from abroad) to say their goodbyes.  The twist is that, per custom, no one can reveal the diagnosis so as not to upset Nai Nai in her final months.  Indeed, Billi, a struggling student who has just been rejected for a fellowship, was specifically asked not to make the trip because her parents thought she was too emotional and incapable of adhering to the compact.

What follows is a loving and funny rendering of Billi’s family as well as her own immersion into Chinese culture and the clash that comes with it.  First time writer-director Lulu Wang’s second feature is confident and multi-layered, and her visual sense, depicting China in an almost dreamlike state, emphasizes Billi’s trepidation and confusion.  The film is also slyly funny, capturing the idiosyncratic bond of family that survives no matter the time apart or the geographical separation.  One of the best of the year.

Image result for Yesterday movie

Great premise.  A failing singer-songwriter discovers he’s the only person who knows The Beatles music. They existed for him and him alone. And so, he pawns their songs off as his own on his way to superstardom.

So far, so good. Then, straight to the ditch, for so many reasons.

The “being the only person who knows the Beatles thing” happened because, well . . . we don’t know. There is some sort of worldwide electrical short and that’s that. Apparently, Coca-Cola and cigarettes never existed either.  Incredibly lazy.

The lead (Himesh Patel) is weak, uninteresting and one-note (confusion and skepticism are how he reacts to most everything) and as much as Lily James (his manager) tries, there is no connection, no chemistry. She’s been mooning after him since grade school and it is hard to glean why.  He’s kind of a drip.

His own music is bland.  They should have done more with this, with him struggling to accept that until he could cadge The Beatles catalogue, he was a pretty bad musician.

Kate McKinnon is funny. But as the slimy LA music exec, she’s way over-the-top and atonal, just this side of an SNL character. The music industry is, of course, portrayed as shallow and cynical, but in such a cartoonish way, it doesn’t work.

There is a “me or stardom” scene between James and Patel that is nonsensical. There was no need for the ultimatum, but it is given and then immediately reneged upon.

The film is surprisingly boring, with a lot of filler montage as Patel gets bigger and bigger.  However, we get none of the perils or glitz of stardom.  He could have met anyone in the industry, and the producers selected Ed Sheeran, a red-headed Ambien?  He doesn’t meet Jagger?  Come on.

The end is atrocious. Patel has an inexplicable visit to the real John Lennon (who became a sailor) and as a result, turns his debut performance into a confession to the crowd, followed by a rejection of riches (he releases all his Beatles tracks on line for free).  On the subject of riches, the real Lennon was quite eloquent:

PLAYBOY: “But that doesn’t compare with what one promoter, Sid Bernstein, said you could raise by giving a world-wide televised concert… playing separately, as individuals, or together, as the Beatles. He estimated you could raise over $200,000,000 in one day.”

LENNON: “That was a commercial for Sid Bernstein written with Jewish schmaltz and showbiz and tears, dropping on one knee. It was Al Jolson. OK. So I don’t buy that. OK?”

PLAYBOY: “But the fact is, $200,000,000 to a poverty-stricken country in South America…”

LENNON: “Where do people get off saying the Beatles should give $200,000,000 to South America? You know, America has poured billions into places like that. It doesn’t mean a damn thing. After they’ve eaten that meal, then what? It lasts for only a day. After the $200,000,000 is gone, then what? It goes round and round in circles. You can pour money in forever. After Peru, then Harlem, then Britain. There is no one concert. We would have to dedicate the rest of our lives to one world concert tour, and I’m not ready for it. Not in this lifetime, anyway.”

Now, how they should have done the film is as follows.

* The Beatles work is erased from the public consciousness

* Patel steals the songs and becomes famous

* He loves, loves, loves it but starts to fall apart from the fact that he knows he’s a fraud (and the cocaine and chicks and the loneliness)

* James comes to save him and then, he confesses

* The walls start closing in as four old men from Liverpool named Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Starkey, who have all grown up to be different things, hold a press conference explaining that Patel must have stolen some of their songs because they wrote some of them (they have notes from their childhoods, some lyrics, but since they never coalesced, at best, it is old, Quarrymen stuff)

* The media treats the 4 men as jokes, because they seem ridiculous

* Patel becomes more unnerved

* After one of his shows, Lennon and McCartney corner him and beat him up

* At that point, James convinces Patel to make it right

* He does, by forming the band The Beatles with the real Beatles and holding his own concert on the roof

DARK ENDING

* They suck

* Patel says, “Sorry guys, I tried” and they thank him for the opportunity

HAPPY ENDING

* They’re awesome and they’re huge!

D260103B-ADF7-4B93-A350-ADECE08FD9C4

A gut-busting, loose re-make of Superbad, this time with girls (Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Dever standing in for Jonah Hill and Michael Cera). It’s hard to overpraise the chemistry these two have, which enhances the laughter that comes in the set pieces as well as the seams.  This is their movie, and the bond and brilliance is evident form the first time we see them together.

They’re supported by a troupe of high school classmates so smartly drawn and crisply written, the whole “graduation night blowout” endeavor feels fresh. First-time director Olivia Wilde not only has an effortless command of pace and movement, but she also dazzles with three ingenious vignettes – a brief bad trip where the girls become Barbie dolls, Dever underwater in a pool (echoing both The Graduate and Boogie Nights) and Feldstein in a charming musical dance sequence.

The film is also very sweet and dare I say, uplifting. 

Masterful fun.  One of the best of the year.