Movies with Milan

Movies with Milan

Movies reviews from Milan PaurichFull Bio

 

MOVIES WITH MILAN 3-4-22

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ASKING FOR IT--After a small town waitress (Kiersey Clemons) is sexually assaulted, she joins a lesbian vigilante posse whose target is MFM (Men's First Movement) founder Mark Vanderhill (Ezra Miller) and his MAGA-esque cult followers. The body count in first-time writer/director Eamon O'Rourke's loathsome movie is off the charts, as it its unbridled sadism and casual nihilism. This is reprehensible trash pandering to the most delusional "woke" sensibilities (accordingly, Ronan and Mia Farrow will love it). Predictably, most of the performances are laughably over the top (David Patrick Kelly is particularly ludicrous as a Steve Bannon type calling MFM's shots behind the scenes). Ironically, the only actor to make a favorable impression is forgotten Hemsworth brother, Luke, as a well-intentioned sheriff who--like pretty much everyone else here--is killed before the closing credits. 

(D MINUS.)  

THE BATMAN--Matt ("War for the Planet of the Apes," Dawn of the Planet of the Apes") Reeves' strikingly stylized new iteration of the DCEU crime fighter franchise is also the longest (clocking in at just under three hours) "Bat" flick to date. It's also one of the finest. In fact, I'd rank it alongside Tim Burton's "Batman Returns" (1992) and Chris Nolan's "The Dark Knight Rises" (2011) in terms of overall quality and emotional resonance Former "Twilight" heartthrob Robert Pattinson, who's been busily reinventing himself as a serious actor in prestigious auteur fare (e.g., Claire Denis' "High Life" and the Safdie Brothes' "Good Time"), dons the cape this time and he's positively brilliant. He just might be my favorite Batman/ Bruce Wayne since Michael Keaton. As much film noir as comic book caper ("Se7en"-era David Fincher was clearly a major inspiration), it's that rare super hero film that I would gladly welcome a sequel--or sequels--to. Reeves' terrific cast (including Zoe Kravitz as Selina Kyle/Catwoman, an unrecognizable Colin Farrell as the Penguin and a truly terrifying Paul Dano as the Riddler) offer well-nigh definitive portrayals of their iconic roles. (A.)

BLACKLIGHT--Liam Neeson and his "Honest Thief" director Mark Williams reteam for another generic action flick strictly for undemanding audiences. Neeson plays a government operative fighting to dismantle Operation Unity, a shadow outfit targeting ordinary civilians. As the muckraking reporter who assists in his investigation, Emmy Raver-Lampan at least displays more spunk than a depressed-looking Aidan Quinn as Neeson's former FBI handler. The whole thing has such a perfunctory, straight-to-video feel that it's surprising anyone thought this merited a theatrical release. (C MINUS.)

THE CURSED--Sean Ellis' stylish Gothic horror flick is what a 1960's Hammer movie would look like if they were still being made today. Set in late 19th century France, the film concerns a gypsy curse placed on land baron Seamus Laurent (Alister Petrie) after he had a Romani family executed for squatting on his property. Boyd Holbrook is the pathologist brought in when Laurent's teenage son (Max Mackintosh) mysteriously vanishes, and (naturally) he's the first to utter the deathly word, "lycanthrope." Juicily atmospheric and aptly gruesome, the only downside is the actual werewolf who looks more like an extraterrestrial. (Paging Rick Baker.) Kelly Reilly, so good as Beth on Taylor Sheridan's "Yellowstone," has a relatively thankless role as Petrie's wife. (B.)  

CYRANO--Not being the world's biggest Peter Dinklage fan, I was a tad skeptical about the "Game of Thrones" imp playing the title character in director Joe ("Atonement," "The Darkest Hour") Wright's revisionist musical spin on Edmond Rostand's 1897 theatrical chestnut. But Dinklage rises to the challenge of wife Erica Schmidt's adroit screenplay which honors Rostand while attempting something completely different. Aaron and Bryce Dessner's score will never be confused with Stephen Sondheim, but the songs are melodic enough and certainly easy on the ear. Also helping the film's cause are its Roxanne and Christian (Haley Bennett and Kelvin Harrison Jr., both of whom are supremely photogenic and immensely winning performers). Director of photography Seamus McGarvey does extraordinary work as well. This is easily the best-looking "Cyrano" I've ever seen: every gorgeous frame could be hung in an art gallery. While Steve Martin's modern-dress Cyrano adaptation (1987's sublime "Roxanne") remains my all-time favorite big-screen Rostand, this is definitely a close second. (A MINUS.)  

DEATH ON THE NILE--While vacationing on a posh ocean liner, eccentric Belgian detective Hercule Poirot (Kenneth Branagh) is tasked with solving the murder of a fellow passenger, newlywed heiress Linnet Ridgeway ("Wonder Woman" Gal Gadot in civilian clothes). Since this is an Agatha Christie mystery, it's only natural that virtually the entire passenger list will become Poirot suspects. Five years after his narcoleptic "Murder on the Orient Express" reboot, Branagh returns with another star-studded Christie adaptation that was delayed nearly two years by Covid. Unlike "Orient Express" which failed to match Sidney Lumet's nonpareil 1974 Christie adaptation, this time Branagh actually improves on the previous cinematic "Nile" (John Guillerman's middling 1978 version). While the cast--which includes the wonderful Annete Bening, perennially annoying Russell Brand and newly defamed Armie Hammer--may lack the mega-watt luster of the '78 "Nile" which featured Bette Davis, David Niven, Peter Ustinov and Maggie Smith, this is actually a more enjoyable iteration. I'm still not sure why Disney didn't just put it on Hulu or Disney+, though. (B MINUS.) 

DEAR MR. BRODY--In January 1970, 21-year-old hippie millionaire Michael Brody Jr. announced on the Ed Sullivan Show that he would be giving away his entire $25-million fortune to anyone who needed it. The media feeding frenzy that ensued literally blew up in Brody's face. Needless to say, few actually benefited from the intended largesse; when Brody committed suicide a few years later, thousands of letters remained unopened. Keith Maitland's clear-eyed, but compassionate documentary shines a spotlight not only on Brody, but many of the people who wrote asking for financial assistance. It's a fascinating time capsule, as well as a moving human interest story. I'd love to see Brody finally receive the biopic treatment he was denied in his lifetime, despite the attempts of numerous Hollywood producers to make a film about him in the '70s. (B PLUS.)

DOG--Channing Tatum co-directed (with Reid Carolin) and stars in this road trip buddy comedy about former Army Ranger Briggs (Tatum) and his devoted Belgian Malinois pup Lulu. Their destination is the funeral of Briggs' fellow Ranger, and because the movie is pitched largely at young audiences, the scrapes and skirmishes they get into along the way are all pretty mild (albeit mildly amusing). It's nothing special, but pleasant enough, especially if you're a dog lover or a Tatum fan. (B MINUS.)

DRIVE MY CAR--Ryusuke Hamaguchi's humanist masterpiece was nominated for four Academy Awards last month (including both Best International Feature and Best Picture), but precious few have been able to see the film in its limited theatrical release. Kudos then to HBO MAX for purchasing streaming rights so that millions of people who don't live near a big city arthouse can find out what the fuss is all about. A masterful Hidetoshi Nishijima plays Yusuke, a recently widowed middle-aged theater actor/director who takes a job directing a multi-lingual production of Chekhov's "Uncle Vanya" at a Hiroshima theater festival. During his residency, Yusuke forms an unlikely bond with the taciturn young woman (Toko Hiura) hired to be personal driver. Although it runs a leisurely three hours, there's not a single desultory moment here. Grief, guilt, love, loss and (ultimately) acceptance are just some of the big themes Hamaguchi tackles in probing, sensitive fashion. It feels an awful lot like real life, and that's a quality conspicuously absent from most of the movies being made in Hollywood these days. No wonder Academy members flipped over it. (A.)

ENCANTO--Disney's 60th animated feature is the Mouse House's latest culturally specific female empowerment fairy 'toon. ("Raya and the Last Dragon" precedes it by a mere eight months.) With a busy, if not particularly memorable song score by Lin-Manuel Miranda--currently vying for the title of "hardest working man in show business" after "In the Heights," "Vivo" and "Tick, Tock...Boom", all in 2021--the film is a feast for the eyes, but somewhat lacking in terms of story/character development. Adolescent protagonist Mirabel Madrigal (Stephanie Beatriz) is the only member of her Columbian mountain family not to be blessed with a "special" gift--one sister can make flowers bloom through sheer willpower; an uncle ("That '70s Show" alum Wilmer Valderamma) is a shape-shifter; et al. When the Madrigals start losing their collective mojo, Mirabel embarks upon a journey to help restore her clan's magical world. From John Leguizamo's toucan sidekick (yawn) to the boilerplate message about how everyone is "special" in their own way, the whole thing feels recycled and second-hand. Directors Byron Howard and Jarred Bush had more success with their last Disney collaboration, 2016's delightful "Zootopia." (C.)

HUDA'S SALON--In Israeli-occupied Bethlehem, a visit to a neighborhood beauty parlor by housewife Reem (Maisa And Elhadi) turns into a Kafkaesque nightmare when she's drugged by salon proprietoress Huda (Manal Awad) and posed in compromising nude photos. Huda informs Reem that she'll send the pictures to her insanely jealous husband Yousef (Jalal Masawra) unless she agrees to become an informant for Israel's secret service. The second half of Hany Abu-Assad's topical suspenser cuts between Reem trying to elude capture by Israeli agents and Huda being interrogated by a Palestinian freedom fighter (Ali Suliman). Needless to say, things don't end well for either woman. Abu-Assad, director of 2005's Oscar-nominated "Paradise Now," uses thriller tropes to get across his feminist agenda, and it's a sometimes unwieldy hybrid of genre and agit-prop. But strong performances--Awad is especially strong--and a taut 91-minute run time insure that it remains compelling throughout. (B.)

JACKASS FOREVER--Johnny Knoxville's sadomasochistic MTV franchise returns after an 12-year hiatus with what's being billed as their last hurrah. If so, at least the series is going out with a semi-bang. Apparently not even the ravages of time can keep Knoxville and Co. (including Steve-O, Jason "We Man" Acuna and series MVP Chris Pontius) from continuing to put themselves in harm's way for a cheap laugh. Whether you find the "Jackass" boys--and they'll remain boys forever, even in their impending dotage--amusing or appalling will probably determine whether you'll be buying a ticket, or staying home to catch up on your reading. (C PLUS.)

  

LICORICE PIZZA--Maybe turning 50 mellowed him, but this is the friendliest, most accessible film to date by the great Paul Thomas Anderson, director of such contemporary cinema benchmarks as "There Will be Blood" and "Boogie Nights." Set against the groovy backdrop of 1973 Hollywood, the film tells the too-good-to-be-true-except-it-mostly-was story of teen actor/budding entrepreneur Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman, son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman in a sensational screen debut) and the "older woman" he crushes on. As Alana Kane, Gary's 25-year-old dream lover, rock star Alana Haim delivers another stand-out thesping debut. Among the colorful cast of characters who cross their paths are hairdresser-to-the-stars Jon Peters (a howlingly funny Bradley Cooper), Sean Penn's boozy "Jack" Holden and a foul-mouthed Lucille Ball doppelgänger (Christine Ebersole). Inspired by the adolescence of future Hollywood producer--and Tom Hanks' Playtone Films partner--Gary Goetzman, it's as funny, sweet-natured and charming as Anderson's previous movies were (mostly) dark and brooding. This is "Art" of the highest caliber, too; it's just a lot sunnier, maybe because Gary Valentine is more pleasant company than Daniel Plainview. (A.) 

MARRY ME--Just before her wedding that's being telecast around the globe, pop superstar Kat Valdez (Jennifer Lopez) learns that her fiancee (wildly charismatic Colombian singer-songwriter Maluma) has been two-timing her. Impulsively, she picks divorced high school math teacher Charlie (Owen Wilson) out of the audience and marries him instead. The hard part, understandably, is getting this marriage to work since husband and wife are veritable strangers, and their lives couldn't be any more different. Guessing the outcome of director Kat Cairo's bubbly rom-com doesn't take a rocket scientist: the fun is in getting to the "happily ever after" part. And it is fun. Kat and Charlie are as charming as they're hopelessly mismatched (on the surface anyway), and it's hard not to root for such likable protagonists. Whether Cairo's movie single-handedly revives the romantic comedy genre is debatable. But as a 2022 date flick, it'll do just fine. (B.)

MOONFALL--If Roland Emmerich is truly his generation's Irwin Allen, and "Independence Day" was its era's "Poseidon Adventure," then Emmerich's latest disaster flick can rightly be considered his "Swarm:" a dopey, cheesy-looking dud with more (inappropriate) laughs than thrills. Halle Berry plays a NASA hot shot and former astronaut who recruits another former space jockey (Patrick Wilson) to help stop the moon from hurtling to earth and causing global destruction. As the crackpot/conspiracy nut assisting them, "Games of Thrones" alumnus John Bradley is more annoying than amusing. The only remotely interesting thing about this idiotic movie is how closely it resembles Adam McKay's recent doomsday satire "Don't Look Up." Except this time the humor is wholly unintentional. (D MINUS.)

THE PINK CLOUD--The morning after what would have probably been just a one-night stand, Brazilian thirtysomethings Yago (Eduardo Mendonca) and Giovana (Renata de Lelis) discover that a global quarantine has taken effect. The lockdown stretches on for weeks, months and ultimately years. (A tube, thoughtfully installed by the government, delivers essentials like food and medical supplies.) Although written in 2017 and shot in 2019, debut writer/director Iuli Gerbase's provocative film essentially prophesied the entire Covid era. The titular cloud, which emits deadly vaporous fumes that kill on sight, can be read as a metaphor for a variety of 21st century ills, including the danger of lives lived exclusively online. Gerbase and her superb lead actors make every second count. I was both shaken and stirred. (B PLUS.)   

SCREAM--The latest attempt to resuscitate a long dormant franchise that expired when Bill Clinton was president mostly hits it out of the park thanks to the inspired choice of "Ready or Not" helmers Matt Bettinelli-Orpin and Tyler Gillett to direct. Set 25 years after the original "Ghostface Killer" slayings--it's actually been 26 years since the original "Scream" premiered, but who's counting?--the film reassembles the core players (including Neve Campbell's Sidney Prescott, Courtney Cox's Gale Riley and David Arquette's Deputy Dewey) while intjecting some fresh blood (Jack Quaid and Dylan Minnette among others) into the mix. The meta humor doesn't seem nearly as novel or groundbreaking as it did in 1996, but Bettinelli-Orpin and Gillett actually manage to make it way more fun than any third (or is it fourth?) generation "re-quel" has any right to be. (B.)

SING 2--Cocksure koala bear Buster ("Dream big dreams!") Moon takes his menagerie of wannabe superstars to Redshore City--think the "Zootopia" version of Las Vegas--to stage a big-budget sci-fi musical bankrolled by big, bad wolf Jimmy Crystal. But Jimmy threatens to pull the plug unless Buster (Matthew McConaughey) somehow manages to lure reclusive lion rocker Clay Calloway (U2's Bono in his first animated screen role) back to the stage. Writer-director Garth Jenning' egregiously overlong and generally "meh" sequel to his 2016 'toon sleeper is strictly for anyone who thinks animals performing karaoke is the quintessence of wit. Despite 40--count' em--songs and the good-sport return of original cast members McConaughey, Reese Witherspoon, Taron Egerton, Scarlett Johansson and Nick Kroll, this is more enervating than entertaining. (C.)

SPIDER-MAN: NO WAY HOME--Face it, Marvel-ites. There hasn't been a truly great "Spider-Man" movie since 2004's "Spider-Man 2," and the latest--and longest at two-and-a-half-hours--Spidey outing is no exception. But surprisingly, and I never thought I'd be saying this, it's actually pretty darn good. The third in director Jon Watts and star Tom Holland's unofficial "home" trilogy (2017's Homecoming" and 2019's "Far from Home" precede it), "No Way Home" picks up where the previous film left off when Spider-Man's identity was revealed Desperate to reclaim his previous anonymity, Spider-Man seeks out fellow Avenger Dr. Steven Strange (Benedict Cumberbatch) for supernatural assistance. But the reverberations--in which previous Spider-Man arch-enemies like Doc Ock (Alfred Molina), Electra (Jamie Foxx) and the Green Goblin (Willem Dafoe) are unleashed from the bowels of hell--prove catastrophic. It's always nice to reconnect with series favorites like Zendaya, Marisa Tomei and J.K. Simmons, and there are some surprise cameos sure to tickle Marvel fans. If this is truly the end of the line for Holland's web-slinger, I'm happy to report that his stint in the franchise is going out with a bang. (B PLUS.)

STUDIO 666--The Foo Fighters move into a California mansion with a gruesome past to record their 10th album. Before they can even plug in their instruments, a demonic presence begins threatening their lives (not to mention the completion of their latest lp). This silly FF vanity production is pretty much what you'd expect when its director's best-known prior credit is the 2013 slasher flick, "Hatcher 3." Strictly for Dave Grohl fans. (D PLUS.)

UNCHARTERED--Tom Holland's follow-up to "Spider-Man: No Way Home" isn't likely to reach the box office stratosphere of his recent blockbuster. But for a videogame adaptation, "Zombieland" director Ruben Fleischer's larkish adventure is a tolerable enough Saturday night (or matinee) entertainment. Holland plays Nate Drake, a bartender/pickpocket who's recruited by daredevil adventurer Victor "Sully" Sullivan (Mark Wahlberg) to help locate the 500-year-old fortune of legendary explorer Ferdinand Magellan. Their goal is to claim the $5-billion prize before Big Bad Moncanda (Antonio Banderas) and his accomplice (Tati Gabriella) get their grubby hands on it. While Fleischer shamelessly borrows from (among others) the Indiana Jones, "National Treasure" and "Pirates of the Caribbean" movies--and it's as depressingly CGI-dependent as most 21st century franchise wannabes--the whole thing is so breathlessly paced that it's rarely boring. Holland essentially plays Peter Parker's semi-dissolute kid brother here and he develops precious little chemistry with Wahlberg who seems mildly piqued that he's been recruited to play second fiddle to a Marvel super-hero. Despite closing credits Easter eggs that promise (threaten?) a sequel, I'm not expecting an "Unchartered 2" anytime soon. (C PLUS.)

WEST SIDE STORY--Was there really a crying need for an "evolved" reboot of Robert Wise's Oscar-feted 1961 film based on Stephen Sondheim and Leonard Bernstein's landmark Broadway musical? No, not really. The politically correct touches added by adapter Tony Kushner--e.g, making the Jets tomboy mascot transgender and a gay-bashing victim!--feel like cynical concessions to Gen Z progressives. And the decision not to provide subtitles for the Spanish-language dialogue was a stupidly arrogant miscalculation that will probably wind up hurting it at the box-office. But whenever Rachel Zagler and Ansel Elgort's star-crossed lovers Maria and Tony share the frame, it's hard to take your eyes off them. Zagler in particular is a real find: she's like an angel descended from heaven. Janusz Kaminski's dynamic on-location lensing trumps the original (which was largely studio-lensed), even if Ariana Debose and David Alvarez's Anita and Bernardo can't hold a candle to Rita Moreno and George Chakiris' award-winning interpretations. Speaking of Moreno, Kushner has written a new, utterly gratuitous role for the 90-year-old showbiz veteran, and it's a testament to Moreno's still-formidable chops that it's not an embarrassment. In helming the first musical of his 50-year career, Steven Spielberg doesn't seem particularly engaged by the material (maybe he knew he couldn't replace the original in anyone's rose-colored memories). Unfortunately, that means Kushner is the true auteur here which is precisely where the problems lie. Rewriting Sondheim lyrics solely to pacify snowflake sensibilities? Yikes! Dude is so woke he probably hasn't slept since "Angels in America" opened on Broadway back in the early '90s. (B MINUS.)

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AMERICAN UNDERDOG--"Shazam!" star Zachary Levi plays two-time NFL MVP and Super Bowl champion Kurt Warner in a faith-based biopic by the Erwin Brothers, directors of 2018 crossover smash, "I Can Only Imagine." As the divorced single mom who became Warner's future wife--and the person who turned him on to J.C.--Anna Paquin is a long way from vampire-loving "True Blood" sexpot Sookie Stackhouse. Dennis Quaid has a few nice scenes as Rams coach Dick Vermeil, but the whole thing is just so squeaky-clean, cookie-cutter bland that it inadvertently does Warner--surely a more complex and layered figure than the Erwin's prosaic script allows--a major disservice. I'm betting the movie's target demographic (Red State Evangelical Christians) wouldn't want it any other way. (D PLUS.)

BELFAST--Kenneth Branagh's best film in decades is also his most personal: a heartfelt, autobiographical coming-of-age drama about growing up in late 1960's Belfast amidst Northern Ireland's "Troubles." Branagh surrogate Buddy (newcomer Jude Hill in a remarkable screen debut) is broken-hearted when his parents (Jamie Dornan and Catriana Balfer, both wonderful) decide to uproot their family and move to England. (Judi Dench and Ciaran Hinds deliver Oscar-worthy performances as 9-year-old Buddy's grandparents.) The b&w lensing is luminous, and the soundtrack (heavy on vintage Van Morrison) is well-nigh unimpeachable. If previous British coming-of-agers like Terrence Davies' "The Long Day Closes," John Boorman's "Hope and Glory" and Stephen Frears' "Liam" cut deeper and packed more of an emotional wallop, Branagh's "one from the heart" is still a joy to be treasured. The very definition of "audience movie," it's not surprising this has been widely considered a front-runner for the 2021 Best Picture Oscar since winning top prize at this year's Toronto Film Festival. (A MINUS.)

CLIFFORD THE BIG RED DOG--While mom's away on a business trip, precocious Manhattan tween Emily Elizabeth (appealing Darby Camp) befriends the titular crimson puppy who magically grows to gargantuan dimensions over night. Slapsticky shenanigans ensue as an evil geneticist (Tony Hale) attempts to steal Clifford for nefarious purposes. Thanks to our quick-thinking heroine and her brainiac school chum (Isaac Wang), the kids--reluctantly aided by Emily Elizabeth's slacker uncle (Jack Whitehall)--manage to save the day, and even elude a dog-hating apartment super (David Allen Grier). Based on the popular 1960's Scholastic books and subsequent PBS series, this CGI/live-action hybrid is surprisingly tolerable, even for normally kidflick-averse grown ups like myself. Or maybe I was just predisposed to like it since I recently adopted a puppy myself. Available at no additional charge to Paramount+ subscribers. (C PLUS.)

THE DESPERATE HOUR--Naomi Watts plays a widow whose morning jog is interrupted by an iPhone news bulletin that her teenage son's high school is in lockdown because of an active shooter situation. Director Phillip ("Patriot Games," "Rabbit Proof Fence") Noyce's real-time suspenser is annoying on multiple levels. Besides its flat-out absurdity (Watts' phone battery would have died long before she begins playing Nancy Drew on the internet), there's also something tacky and even vaguely offensive about making a school shooting the central gimmick of a straight-to-video thriller. Onscreen for its entire 85 minutes, Watts is essentially the entire show here and she's dependably strong. But the movie itself isn't worth her time. Or yours. (C MINUS.)

DON'T LOOK UP--Adam ("Vice," "The Big Short") McKay's audacious, howlingly funny doomsday comedy is the "Dr. Strangelove" of the new millennium: brilliantly written/directed, and acted to perfection by an all-star ensemble cast. Leonardo DiCaprio plays a Michigan State professor whose doctoral student (Jennifer Lawrence) discovers a comet falling to earth which, if it lands, will effectively wipe out civilization as we know it. Their attempts to engender government assistance fall on deaf ears (Meryl Streep is a hoot as the Marjorie Taylor Greene-ish POTUS), and things quickly de-escalate from there. McKay manages to sustain the giddy gallows humor for over two hours, and every performance--including Cate Blanchett and Tyler Perry (co-hosts of a Regis and Kathy Lee-style "happy news" chatshow), Mark Rylance (a clinically insane cross between Mark Zuckerberg and Steve Bezos), Jonah Hill (Streep's idiot chief of staff son) and Melanie Lynskey (DiCaprio's long-suffering wife)--is a hoot. Not only one of the bravest movies of the year, it's also one of the finest. (A.)

DUNE--As someone who loved David Lynch's generally reviled 1984 Frank Herbert adaptation, I didn't really see a crying need for a reboot. But Denis ("Arrival," "Blade Runner 2049") Villeneuve clearly did. And he wasn't thinking small either. Apparently afflicted with "Peter Jackson Elephantiasis," Villeneuve decided that Herbert's wildly influential sci-fi magnum opus had the makings of a--yawn--"epic trilogy." So like Jackson's torturously protracted "Hobbit" trifecta, he's chosen to italicize every Herbert comma and apostrophe. The result is a visually dazzling, but glacially paced "Chapter One" that beautifully, sometimes thrillingly, dawdles to, well, nowhere in particular. I'm assuming the real ending is being saved for "Chapter Three" since this particular movie doesn't end so much as stop. "It" boy Timothee Chalamet plays Paul Atreides who journeys to the planet Arrakis to find the precious "spice" (think mescaline or some other groovy hallucinogen) that will hopefully save his doomed planet. As Chalamet's parents, Oscar Isaac and Rebecca Ferguson (Duke and Lady Atreides) do fine work, and the entire supporting cast is an embarrassment of of high-voltage talent (Javier Bardem, Charlotte Rampling, Josh Brolin, Stellan Skarsgard, Zendaya) and franchise movie beefcake (Jason Mamoa and Dave Bautista). During the course of its lumbering two-and-a-half-hour run time, I frequently wanted to freeze an image and frame it on my mantelpiece. But I was never emotionally invested or, quite frankly, entertained. (C.)

ETERNALS--"Did it really have to be that long?" Except for the most rabid fanboys/girls, that'll probably be most people's reaction to this nearly three-hour Marvel origin story featuring a corps of below ballot superheroes. The fact that it's not only watchable, but frequently impressive stems from the authorial sensibility/vision of Oscar-winning director Chloe ("Nomadland," "The Rider") Zhao. While (literally) light years away from the semi-improvised neorealist dramas largely populated by non-professional actors she cut her teeth on, there's just enough of "The Zhao Touch" to make fans sit up and take notice. For starters, it's the most visually resplendent Marvel production to date, with a decided emphasis on the natural world (dig those painterly landscapes) and the humanity of its (in this case, mostly otherworldly) cast of characters. The titular Eternals have been around for thousands of years and reunite to battle their ultimate foe (the Deviants) to save earth from global destruction. For better or worse, every woke box is checked here. Among the Eternal phalanx--led by a Latinx woman (Selma Hayek), natch--are an African-American gay (Brian Tyree Henry); an Indian (Kumail Nanjiani) who moonlights as a Bollywood superstar; a deaf African-American female (Lauren Ridloff); Angelina Jolie; and two former "Game of Thrones" hunks (Kit Harrington and Richard Madden). I can't say that its 157 minutes exactly fly by--it could have definitely used a last-minute trim--but "Eternals" is one of the few Marvels to date that actually seems more like a "film" than merely a cynical Hasbro marketing tool. (B.)

THE FRENCH DISPATCH--Like every Wes Anderson movie, his latest marvel has such a hand-made, almost artisanal quality--with near-pointillist mise-en-scene that practically jumps off the screen without the benefit of 3-D--that you spend most of the time just gazing in wonder at its creator's fecund imagination. Set in the fictitious Ennui, France, the film concerns the day-to-day operations of the titular English-language magazine whose editor (an impeccably droll Bill Murray) is mother hen to his eccentric corps of writers, including Frances McDormand, Owen Wilson and Jeffrey Wright. As their various stories (inhabited by the starry likes of Benicio del Toro, Adrien Brody, Timothee Chalamet, Lea Seydoux, Willem Dafoe, Christoph Waltz and Saoirse Ronan!) come to enchanted life, Anderson exerts the push and heart-stopping pull of classic fairy tales. (A.)

GHOSTBUSTERS: AFTERLIFE--Carrie Coon plays the daughter of one of the original ghostbusters who, after inheriting her late dad's Oklahoma farm, moves there with her two kids ("Stranger Things" star Finn Wolfhard and McKenna Grace). Small town life proves even stranger than poltergeists for this NYC single-parent brood, and director Jason ("Juno," "Up in the Air") Reitman gets a lot of predictable comic mileage out of the story's fish out of water elements. He also handles the f/x elements like the chip off the old block that he is (Reitman's dad, Ivan, directed the original Reagan-era blockbusters). Thanks to its strong cast--the always welcome Paul Rudd pops up as a local science teacher/potential Coon romantic interest--and Easter eggs galore, this is unlikely to offend the purists who (somewhat unfairly) balked at Paul Feig's 2016 all-female reimagining. Whether its box-office appeal will extend beyond '80s nostalgists to create a new generation of Ectomobile fans remains to be seen, however. (B MINUS.)

GOLDEN VOICES--After the Soviet Union is dissolved, Jewish showbiz couple Raya and Victor (Maria Belkin and Vladimir Friedman) emigrate to Israel. Having worked for decades as Russia's hardest working voice dubbers of foreign language movies, they optimistically hope their new home will be equally besotted with their talent. Unfortunately, the best Raya can do is get a job as a phone sex operator while Victor is reduced to dubbing black market VHS copies of current releases (surreptitiously recorded in theaters). Writer/director Evgeny Ruman's charming, beautifully played dual character study is the sort of audience-friendly subtitled film that used to play for months in American arthouses. (I bet it would have had a four-month run--minimum--at Cleveland's beloved Cedar-Lee.) But since that's no longer a realistic option in the Covid era, you'll have to seek it out on streaming platforms or by purchasing/renting the newly issued Music Box DVD. If you opt for the latter, you'll be able to access an audio commentary with Ruman and co-screenwriter Ziv Berkovich, as well as some fun deleted scenes. (B PLUS.)

A HARD DAY'S NIGHT--The "Citizen Kane" of rock and roll movies finally receives the Criterion Blu-Ray Treatment, and the timing couldn't be more auspicious. Peter Jackson's monumental "Get Back" recently debuted on Disney+ and documented what was, for all intents and purposes, the end of the Beatles during the recording sessions for "Let it Be" which would be their final album. Richard Lester's 1964 lagniappe catches the Beatles in full bloom at the beginning of their worldwide fame. As hard as it is to believe, less than five years had passed between the March '64 "Hard Day's" shoot and January '69 when "Get Back" takes place. It's a pithy metaphor for the turbulent societal changes that occurred throughout the globe in those few brief years. Lester's masterpiece, one of the most ebullient and flat-out joyful movies ever made, truly captures lightning in a bottle. For me, the biggest takeaway was how great it must have been to be a Beatle at that pivotal moment in their lives/careers. Shot in b&w because United Artists was looking to save a few pennies (they were so uncertain that Beatlemania would last that Lester was rushed into post-production in order to make a July '64 release date), the film--essentially recording a day in the lives of the Fab Four with the lads playing "themselves"--is pure, undiluted pleasure from beginning to end. And the soundtrack ("I Should Have Known Better," "If I Fell," "She Loves You," "Can't Buy Me Love," et al) is an embarrassment of solid gold riches. Befitting Criterion, the extras on the two-disc box set are suitably magnanimous. There's "You Can't Do That," a 1994 making-of doc which includes Beattles outtake performances; "In Their Own Voices," a 1964 featurette including interviews with the Beatles, behind the scenes footage and production photos; 2002 doc "Things They Said Today" with Lester, cinematographer Gil Taylor, (whose eclectic future credits would include everything from Polanski's "Repulsion" to "Star Wars") music producer George Martin and screenwriter Alun Owen; Lester's Oscar-nominated, pre-"Hard Days" short, "The Running Jumping & Standing Still Film;" "Picturewise," an in-depth look at Lester's early work; a 2014 discussion of Lester's filmmaking modus operandi; a 2014 interview with Beatles biographer Mark Lewisohn; excerpts from a 1970 Lester interview; and an essay ("The Whole World is Watching") by critic Howard Hampton. (A PLUS.)

 

HOUSE OF GUCCI--Lady Gaga, Adam Driver and Jerod Leto topline Ridley ("Gladiator," "Thelma and Louise") Scott's camp-tastic farrago about the Italian fashion dynasty which, if one is to believe the film, must be directly descended from the Borgias. As the working class usurper who marries into the family and ultimately launches an internecine campaign to take control, Gaga largely fulfills her "A Star is Born" promise. But Leto--seemingly channelling Max Schreck's Nosferatu--is so flamboyantly, spectacularly awful he seems to be an alien visiting from a distant planet. As Gaga's Gucci hubby, Driver underplays in his patented Method fashion while Al Pacino and Jeremy Irons (as Gucci co-heads Aldo and Rodolfo) deliver some of their wiggiest performances to date; for a seasoned hambone like Pacino, that's saying something. While Scott was clearly aiming for a "Godfather" set in the fashion industry, the end result plays more like '80s primetime soaps, But with more style, of course. (C.)

A JOURNAL FOR JORDAN--Denzel Washington directed this mawkish, pokily paced male weepie about letters written by First Sergeant Charles King (Michael B. Jordan) to his soon-to-be-born son during the Iraq War. Much of the running time is devoted to syrupy flashbacks detailing Charles' pre-combat romance with NYT journalist Dana Canedy (Chante Adams), Jordan's mother. The ending admittedly packs an emotional wallop, but the whole thing trudges on for more than two hours, hitting the same dirge-like notes ad infinitum. Although based on a true story, the film has a synthetic quality that defeats even some very good performances (Jordan is dependably strong and Adams impresses as a future star). Except for "Fences," his dynamic 2017 August Wilson adaptation, Washington has never been a particularly accomplished or inspired director. His genius lies in front of, not behind the camera. And this is possibly the two-time Oscar-winning actor's most maladroit helming job to date. (C MINUS.)  

THE KING'S MAN--If nothing else, Matthew Vaughn's rambunctiously entertaining prequel deserves the "Lazarus" award for bringing a nascent comic book franchise that seemingly died after the rotten 2017 sequel ("The Inner Circle") back to life. Set against the backdrop of WW I, the film is nearly as playfully revisionist as Quentin Tarantino's "Inglourious Basterds." Ralph Fiennes (very good) plays the Duke of Oxford whose teenage son, Conrad (Harris Dickinson from "Lean on Pete"), is itching to sign up for combat duty. Instead, the Duke invites him to join a hush-hush mission involving King George, Czar Nicholas and Kaiser Wilhelm--all impishly played by Tom Hollander--his gentleman's gentleman (Djimon Hounsou) and Conrad's former nanny (Gemma Arterton). Among the nefarious baddies on their hit hit list are Rasputin (Rhys Ifans) and Mata Hari (Valerie Pachner) who's blackmailing President Woodrow Wilson with a sex tape to keep the U.S. from entering the war. While most of it is played for laughs, there's a melancholy undercurrent that wouldn't have been out of place in "1917." And stick around for a closing credits bonus scene that's a real doozy. (B.)

MAN ON THE MOON--After winning two Oscars--for "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" and "Amadeus" respectively--Czech emigre Milos Forman made a pair of terrific and characteristically humanistic biopics in the 1990's. "The People Vs. Larry Flynt" (1996) painted a somewhat rosy portrait of the Hustler Magazine publisher/civil rights advocate, and this equally affectionate deep dive into the life and times of chameleonic funnyman Andy Kaufman followed three years later. Although both were well received critically, neither matched the box office success of Forman's Academy Award babies. And, sadly, both have been largely forgotten in the intervening decades. Thanks to Kino-Lorber's newly issued DVD, Forman's minor Kaufman masterpiece will hopefully introduce Millennial audiences not only to a terrific film, but also to the genius that was Andy Kaufman. In possibly his finest dramatic performance, Jim Carrey is positively uncanny channelling the late stand-up comic who shot to fame thanks to his frequent appearances on "Saturday Night Live" and a scene-stealing role as Latka on the beloved, long-running ABC sitcom "Taxi." Costarring Courtney Love (following her shoulda-been-Oscar-nominated turn in Forman's "Larry Flynt"), Danny DeVito and Paul Giamatti as, respectively, Kaufman's girlfriend, manager and BFF, this is that rare film that will make you laugh (uproariously at times: Kaufman's lip-synching to the "Mighty Mouse" theme song never gets old) and cry like a baby. And I haven't even mentioned infamous Kaufman alter ego Tony Clifton. DVD extras include an audio commentary with screenwriters Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski (who proved their biopic-penning chops with Tim Burton's "Ed Wood" and Forman's "Larry Flynt"); "This Might be a Story," a dialogue between Forman, Alexander and Karaszewski; a making-of documentary featurette; deleted scenes; and R.E.M.'s videos for both "Man on the Moon" (natch) and "The Great Beyond." (A.)

THE MATRIX RESURRECTIONS--18 years after the "Matrix" trilogy ended, Lana Wachowski (sans sister Lilly) returns with the fourth installment of a mothball-encrusted franchise that kicked off during the halcyon days of the Clinton administration. ("Bullet Time" now seems as quaintly nostalgic as "Hammer Time.") Keanu Reeves--better known as John Wick these days--reprises his formerly iconic Neo role, although now "The One" is San Francisco video game designer "Thomas Anderson." A lot of stuff happens here (and I do mean a lot: it runs 148 very long minutes), but the only thing I can report with certainty is that Thomas aka Neo embarks on a kamikaze mission to reunite with former flame/fellow freedom fighter Trinity (a most welcome Carrie-Anne Moss). Some bright new faces show up (Jessica Henwick and Priyanka Chopra Jones in particular) and it looks great, but the whole thing reeks of Wachowski's desperate need to still appear "relevant." (C.)

MULHOLLAND DRIVE--One of the key American films--and one of the key texts period: its cultural influence has been prodigious--of New Millennium Cinema, David Lynch's spectacularly unhinged, yet supremely disciplined immersion into the rabbit hole of his own fecund imagination cuts deeper than any Lynch movie except perhaps 1986's "Blue Velvet." In a star-making performance that should have won her an Oscar (shockingly, she wasn't even nominated; Lynch, fortunately, was) Naomi Watts plays dewey ingenue Betty Elms, newly arrived in Hollywood with dreams of becoming a star. Betty's fateful meeting of mysterious brunette Rita (Laura Harring) who suffers from amnesia after a near-fatal car accident on (!) Mulholland Drive sends the two women hurtling into the underbelly of L.A.'s Dream Factory in an attempt to solve the mystery of Rita's identity. Hint: "Silencio"--the sepulchral nightclub where the action (mostly) climaxes--is not just a place, it's a state of mind The sumptuously restored new Criterion Collection release includes both a 4K UHD DVD presented in Dolby Vision HDR, as well as a Blu-Ray copy. Among the extras are 2015 interviews with Lynch, Watts, Harring, Justin Theroux (who plays Tinseltown golden boy Adam Kesher), casting director Johanna Ray and longtime Lynch collaborators composer Angelo Badalamenti and production designer Jack Fisk; making-of footage; a tantalizing deleted scene; and Lynch's deep-dive 2005 interview with "Lynch on Lynch" author Chris Rodley. (A PLUS.) 

NIGHTMARE ALLEY-- Oscar-winning director Guillermo del Toro's best, most fully realized English-language film to date is a loose remake of Edmund Goulding's 1947 film noir classic starring Tyrone Power. In his best performance since "Silver Linings Playbook," Bradley Cooper plays broken-down, Depression-era drifter Stanton Carlisle who finds his true calling as a carny in Willem Dafoe's traveling circus. After being mentored by husband-and-wife psychics Toni Collette and David Strathairn, an increasingly cynical Stanton--accompanied by virtuous girlfriend (Molly) Rooney Mara--takes his act on the road, headlining glitzy night clubs where he bamboozles the well-heeled clientele with his "mind-reading" abilities. It's not until Stanton partners with femme fatale shrink Cate Blanchett, whose knowledge of the inner secrets of her wealthy patients proves indispensable in swindling the high and mighty for increasingly bigger paydays, that his luck finally runs out. Despite running 150 minutes, del Toro keeps his audience in a vise grip throughout: the tension is so palpable at times you'll forget to breathe. Everything about the film fires on all cylinders: the period production/costume design, long-time del Toro collaborator Dan Lausten's lustrous cinematography, Nathan Johnson's insinuating score and a nonpareil cast (including Mary Steenburgen, Ron Perlman and a superbly menacing Richard Jenkins as Stanton's final mark). The Goulding original is terrific and has a deserved cult reputation, but del Toro's brilliant reboot is even better. (A.) 

NO TIME TO DIE--Finally released after 18 months in Covid jail, Daniel Craig's farewell outing as 007 winds up being something of a letdown, especially after the last two fantastic Sam Mendes-directed Bonds ("Skyfall" and "Spectre"). Picking up five years after the last movie--it's really been 6 1/2, but who's counting?--James has retired from M16 and is living a quiet retirement in Jamaica. (His "007" insignia has already been passed on to a new agent.) Summoned back into the field to rescue a scientist kidnapped by megalomaniacal terrorist Lyutsider Safin (Rami Malek, overacting like crazy), Bond is forced to seek the help of former nemesis Blofeld (Christoph Waltz) who's ensconced, Hannibal Lecter-like, in a British loony bin. Director Cary Jaji Fukunaga (HBO's "True Detective") hits the globe-hopping action in a professional, if somewhat perfunctory manner, but the only parts of his (egregiously overlong) 163-minute film that have any emotional resonance are the scenes between James and "Spectre" inamorata, Madeleine (Lea Seydoux). I actually wanted more of their love story and less of the rote CGI action setpieces: hardly what I was expecting from a new 007 movie. (B MINUS.)   

THE RED SHOES--It was screen legend Ellen Burstyn who first turned me on to Michael Powell's 1948 masterpiece. In an early '70s Esquire Magazine article, Burstyn picked "The Red Shoes" as the film she'd choose to run continuously if she ever owned/operated a movie theater. Of course, in the pre-DVD/TCM era, wanting to see an old movie and actually seeing it, particularly if you lived in a town without repertory theaters, were two different things. It would be several years before my first encounter with Michael Powell's classic, and when I did Burstyn's testimonial lingered in the recesses of my mind. "Yes," I remember thinking, "this is precisely the sort of sugarplum fantasy that should run forever in every extant movie theater." As a ballerina-in-training torn between love and art, Moira Shearer is perfection in her screen debut. And Jack Cardiff's cinematography is justly legendary. Next to his work the previous year in Powell's "Black Narcissus," it's probably a career-best. Even if you've never seen--or, like me, never much cared for--ballet, Powell's hallucinatory fever dream could very well turn you into a balletomane for life. In their newly issued Blu-Ray, the Criterion Collection has outdone themselves with a groaning board of scrumptious extras. There's a demonstration by Powell fanatic Martin Scorsese on the film's painstaking digital restoration; a 1994 audio commentary conducted by Ian Christie featuring interviews with Shearer, male lead Marius Goring, Cardiff, composer Brian Easdale and Scorsese; the 2000 making-of documentary, "A Profile of 'The Red Shoes'" that includes interviews with the production crew; a 2009 interview with Powell's widow, editor Thelma Schoonmaker, conducted at the Cannes Film Festival; audio recordings of Jeremy Irons reading passages from Powell and screenwriter Emeric Pressburger's novelization of the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale that inspired the movie; publicity stills, behind-the-scenes photos and a gallery of memorabilia from Scorsese's private collection; the 1948 animated film ("'The Red Shoes' Sketches") in which Hein Heckroth's painted storyboards for the production come to magical life; an essay by critic David Ehrenstein; and notes on the painstaking restoration process by preservationist Robert Gitt. (A PLUS.)  

STRAWBERRY MANSION--Set in 2035 when dreams are taxed by the government--and interrupted by commercial breaks!--co-directors Kentucky Audrey and Albert Birney's candy-colored slice of (frequently arch) whimsy is reminiscent of both "Pee Wee's Big Adventure"-era Tim Burton and some of Wes Anderson's more fanciful concoctions. Audrey plays IRS auditor James who's sent to the titular abode of eccentric recluse Belle (Penny Fuller) to conduct a review. Because Belle is strictly old school, her dream archives are all stored on archaic VHS tapes. During the course of his investigation, James falls in love with Belle's younger self (Grace Glowicki) which, needless to say, impacts his investigation. While Audrey and Birney were clearly aiming for an anti-corporate branding allegory, their message is drowned out by the attention-hogging sugarplum visuals. Ironically, Audrey is more successful as a performer than he is as co-writer/director. His engaging performance is the highlight of the movie. (C PLUS.)  

SUNDOWN--A British family's Acapulco vacation is cut short when they receive word that their matriarch has died. At the airport, Neil (Tim Roth) feigns losing his passport, forcing him to stay behind. But as the days turn into weeks and Neil's behavior becomes increasingly erratic, no explanation is volunteered for his willfully perverse actions. Director Michel ("New Order") Franco seems determined to follow in the misanthropic footsteps of Michael Haneke and Lars von Trier--their combined oeuvres can be described as "The Cinema of Discomfort"--which places a huge burden on literal-minded audiences who demand glib answers. But if you're willing to stick with it, Franco's film ultimately pays major dividends. Roth, Charlotte Gainsbourg (Neil's sister) and Iazua Larios (the local woman Neil hooks up with) are all terrific, and the whole thing exerts a grim fascination which is ultimately rewarded in Franco's shockingly moving ending. (A MINUS.)

THE 355--When a top-secret military weapon is stolen, CIA agent Mace Brown (Jessica Chastain) rounds up an elite corps of international specialists (Diane Kruger, Lupita Nyong'o and Penelope Cruz) to help her save the day. Director Simon Kinberg seems rightfully proud of his "A"-list distaff cast, and clearly enjoys showcasing them in scenic international locales (Paris, Morocco, Shanghai, et al). The script, unfortunately, is both muddled and cliched: it feels like it's been sitting around since the mid-'60s Bond craze. Fortunately, Chastain's "Angels" are so much fun to watch that you're willing to give it a pass. (C PLUS.)

THE TRAGEDY OF MACBETH--Joel Coen's first film as writer/director sans brother Joel is an ingeniously streamlined, superbly acted adaptation of Shakespeare's "Scottish Play." Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand play the scheming couple whose hubristic ambitions ultimately prove their undoing, and Coen makes Mr. and Mrs. Macbeth's diabolical, increasingly bloody machinations as appalling as they are morbidly funny. There have already been a slew of exemplary screen translations of the Bard's masterpiece (two of them--by Orson Welles and Roman Polanski respectively--are legitimately great), but Coen's "Macbeth" is possibly the most accessible and flat-out entertaining to date. It's also exquisitely lensed in shimmeringly gorgeous black and white by the great Bruno Delbonnel. Available on Apple TV+ at no additional charge for subscribers. (A.) 

VENOM: LET THERE BE CARNAGE--A sequel to the 2018 Marvel franchise-starter that's faster, looser and easier to take than the middling original. Apparently someone--director Andy Serkis perhaps?--decided to take a page from Ryan Reynolds' "Deadpool" movies and make it a larkish comedy. At least that's how Tom Hardy plays his titular role this time. Adding spice to the mix is Woody Harrelson as Big Bad arch villain Carnage, and the whole thing is so breezily paced and unapologetically ridiculous that it's impossible to be offended by the wall-to-wall "R"-caliber violence that somehow managed to squeak by with a "PG-13" rating. The only real downside is the return of perennially mopey Michelle Williams who makes a fleeting (thank heavens!) appearance as Venom's dour ex. (C PLUS.) 

WRITTEN ON THE WIND--Douglas ("Magnificent Obsession," "All That Heaven Allows") Sirk's spectacularly florid, gloriously unhinged 1956 melodrama kind of set the template for primetime soaps ("Dallas," "Dynasty," et al) that would dominate the airwaves in the 1980's. The Texas oil family that takes center stage in Sirk's masterpiece isn't named Ewing, but their financial chicanery, adultery, alcoholism and various other bad behavior will be immediately recognizable to fans of J.R.'s debauched clan. As Lucy, the working-class secretary who makes the mistake of marrying into the Hadley family when she ties the knot with head case scion Kyle (Robert Stack), Lauren Bacall serves as the film's de facto moral fulcrum. It's one of her finest screen performances. Also very good are Sirk muse Rock Hudson as Kyle's long-suffering BFF Mitch (who also carries an unrequited torch for Lucy, natch) and a never-better Dorothy Malone who deservedly won an Oscar as Marylee, the family's resident nymphomaniac. Like most Sirk films, the melodrama would be patently risible minus his carbolic wit and unerring formal elegance. As usual, Sirk's exquisite good taste trumps the mechanical permutations of "plot." While the newly issued Criterion Collection Blu-Ray looks tremendous thanks to its digital restoration, the extras are somewhat less bountiful than the CC norm. Included are a wonderful 2008 documentary, "Acting for Douglas Sirk," which includes archival interviews with Hudson, Stack, Malone, producer Albert Zugsmith and Sirk himself; an interview with scholar Patricia White about the movie; and an essay by New York-based critic Blair McClendomn contextualizing the film within Sirk's oeuvre and its roots in Greek tragedy. (A.)

---Milan Paurich


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