Don't Look Up

Believe it or not, my youngest child is now 18 years old, and has become a film critic in her own right.  For weeks she has been asking me whether I've watched Don't Look Up yet, because she felt that it was applicable to something that we were discussing during one of walks at Pine Island.  When I finally did watch the movie, my first question of her was "did you watch the end of the movie?"  You see, even though she grew up in a household where the entire movie is viewed, she's surrounded by people who get up as soon as the credits start rolling, and exit the theater, as though words on the screen might contain some horrible disease.  And even though she grew up in a household where the same respect to the filmmakers is shown at home, she lives in the time of Netflix, where you can barely glimpse the credits without another video starting; a protocol implemented to keep your attention and prolong the binge.  So I was suspicious that we had seen a different movie, and I was correct.  She saw a mess of a movie with a contemplative conclusion.  I saw a mess of a movie with a contemplative aside, followed by a stupid mess of an ending.  The question that this raises is, does an offensive amalgamation of B-movie clichés pretending to be a dark satire find redemption through an ending that feels honest?  Perhaps, but I'll never know, because I kept watching.  By now many of you will be familiar with my position on the importance of endings; they can ruin otherwise good films, i.e The Last Samurai, they can salvage otherwise mediocre films, i.e. The Usual Suspects, and they can be the capstone to great films, i.e No Country For Old Men.  I will give my daughter the benefit of the doubt (since she does have excellent taste in film - and she is my daughter), and conclude that Don't Look Up falls into The Usual Suspects category, as long as you stop it once the credits start rolling.

King Richard

King Richard distinguishes itself from the typical sports movie in two ways: its central character doesn't play, nor is there any indication that he ever has played a sport.  And, there is an underlying theme that sports are simply a conduit for greatness; pursuing greatness in any form is its own end.  The director Reinaldo Marcus Green, and Will Smith in the leading role, are mostly successful in avoiding the clichés that tend to saturate this genre.  Smith, playing the father of Serena and Venus Williams, is able to convince us that he's completely committed to his children's success, and is struggling with the weight and shame of his own failures.  In one scene he is a stoic example of good sportsmanship, and the next his pride and insecurities seep to the surface.  The weakness of this film is that the outcome is already known; we know at the onset that the Williams sisters will become champion tennis players, so we are more likely to excuse their father's more extreme behaviors.  While Green and Smith explored some interesting territory, it seems like they're always playing it safe.  Smith's character indicates that he would be just as proud of his daughters if they were to achieve greatness as doctors, or teachers - but that wouldn't have been worthy of getting a Hollywood movie.  The unfortunate result of making a movie about an almost-compelling character and the pre-glory days of his daughters, is that it's just not that interesting.  It's only now that I look to close out my review of King Richard that I am reminded of my own tennis experiences from my own childhood... I don't want to spoil the plot, but I wouldn't be the man I am today if it weren't for my own tennis coach father.

Belfast

It is very easy for me to compile a list of things that I like about Kenneth Branagh's most recent film Belfast.  

I liked that the soundtrack featured so many songs by Van Morrison; partly because I love his music, but more importantly because each track so wonderfully sets the tone for the given scene.  I also liked that there was a progression to the music that matched the story arc; there is heartfelt joy in Morrison's music that brightened happy moments in the film, and soulfulness in Morrison's music that deepened the sad scenes.  

I liked that the events of the film are seen through the eyes of a child, not simply as a storytelling device, but because the storyteller experienced the events when he was a child, and it's only natural that the story be told from that perspective.  The child is both innocent, and disarmingly astute, as he has led a relatively sheltered life, but is very bright, and is treated with respect by the adults in his life.  

I liked that Branagh surrounded the child with so many influential role models; his grandparents were imperfect, and sometimes grumpy, but loving towards each other, and sacrificially caring towards their children and grandchildren.  It's refreshing to see such strong positive characters on film.

I liked that the film was projected in black and white.

I liked that the when the family goes to movies together, the movie screen is projected in color, because the most impressionable moments in life are always more vivid than everything else.

I liked that the child's mother danced, and his father sang; and it was all the more poignant that they did so at his grandfather's wake.

I like that the movie was honest.  So often films in this genre are depressing from beginning to end, i.e. Manchester by the Sea, other times they're unconvincingly positive, ie. La La Land.  Branagh found the perfect balance with Belfast.

West Side Story

I have somehow managed to avoid seeing any version West Side Story until now. Perhaps I was subconsciously waiting for the definitive version to be released, but honestly I had little interest in seeing any version, and always felt that I was sufficiently culturally informed without subjecting myself to the entire play/movie. I knew that the story was based on Romeo and Juliet (I have seen Baz Luhrmann's film version of that play). I knew that it had two rival gangs, the Sharks and the Jets (I was hopeful that the hero was named Bennie, but I was kind of fuzzy on that point). And, I had heard "I Feel Pretty" in that Nike ad a few years back, so it's like I'd already seen the movie a hundred times. Now that I have seen the most recent film version, I don't believe that my cultural condition has improved, but I can now say that "I've seen West Side Story". It's my understanding that Steven Spielberg decided to make this version of West Side Story because he loved the play in his youth, and believed that it had a relevant message to convey. While Spielberg's version of West Side Story is technically flawless, which should surprise no one, it is missing something that keeps it from achieving greatness: originality.  I can say this without hesitation, even though I have limited knowledge of the source material, because every aspect of the film felt constrained.  The characters' depth, motiviations, dialogue, and especially the singing felt like it was happening as planned, and didn't flow naturally.  The result of Spielberg taking such a mechanical approach is that you never forget that you're watching an adaptation of a play.  I would have preferred an adaptation that sought to convey the spirit of the source material, yet take full advantage of the film medium and Spielberg's mastery thereof.

As I have watched, and discussed a number of the other films nominated for Best Picture this year, a common theme has been revealed: formulaic films being treated as original constructs by a new generation of film critics.  As I write about a movie like Don't Look Up, and films like CODA and King Richard in the coming days, my point will become clearer, but the general gist is that I've come to realize that there are two distinct types of film viewers:  those who already know the story and are interested in how it's told, and those who've never seen the story before.  I've seen West Side Story hundreds of times before, and to my disappointment, Spielberg's version didn't give me a good reason to have seen it again.

House of Gucci

In advance of this year's Academy Award nominations, I'd like to compare two films, and share with you a new policy that I'm considering. The two films that I'd like to compare are Marriage Story (2019), and House of Gucci (2021). The first film stars Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson as an unhappily married couple who selfishly navigate their way through a messy divorce. The film was awkward, upsetting, and lacked any entertainment value. The only reason that I watched the entire film is because it was nominated for Best Picture, and I was holding out hope that maybe, just maybe it would end with some virtuoso closing sequence that would make it all worth while. The least the filmmakers could have done is give the film a truly dark ending, something memorable. Instead, if I can remember, we were given some sort of everything will be ok, even if no one's really happy ending.  The other film, House of Gucci has a similar premise; this time it's Adam Driver and Lady Gaga who are unhappily married and are heading towards divorce.  The difference is that this film was truly entertaining, and even though every single character was despicable, the presentation was compelling, and I wanted to see more.  I won't be surprised if House of Gucci is nominated for multiple Academy Awards, specifically in the acting categories, but I'd like to focus on my favorite three elements from the film:  1) The cinematography was rich, in the vein of The Godfather Part II, where somehow the blacks are deeper, the reds are all burgundy, and the forests are lush and foreboding.  2) I don't know Lady Gaga, so I don't know what her personality is really like, but I can tell you that it wasn't her in this film; somehow she embodied her character, and it was quite amazing.  3) Jared Leto made me laugh harder than I've laughed in a long time, and his character was the most tragic of the bunch.  

The policy I'd like to enact is no more Marriage Storys...  only House of Guccis.

Best Picture

David Fincher's Mank was the best film of the eight nominated for Best Picture this year - click on the link below to read my review.  If you're interested in my opinions on the other seven films, they're here too.

The Father

Minari

Nomadland

Sound of Metal

Judas and the Black Messiah

The Trial of the Chicago 7

Promising Young Woman

Mank

Mank

This afternoon I finally got to the theater to see Mank, and I am glad that I saw it after re-watching Citizen Kane not too long ago, as the former has enriched my appreciation of what is considered by many to be the greatest film of all time.  The story of Mank is quite straight forward; the screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz ("Mank") was hired by Orson Welles to write a screenplay, which eventually would be made into the film Citizen Kane.  Mank wrote the screenplay based on the eccentric newspaper tycoon, William Randolph Hearst, someone who Mank had developed a relationship with.  The screenplay of Citizen Kane was seen a betrayal of Hearst, as Mank cast him in a very unflattering light.  The main performance in Mank are also quite straightforward, with Gary Oldman in the title role, playing the screenwriter as a mostly-functional alcoholic, who just so happens to be bed-ridden for the entire time that he's writing the screenplay.  The music in Mank is also quite straightforward, composed by Atticus Ross and that other guy from Nine Inch Nails, creating a sound that may be the best dramatic 1940's film score ever recorded.  And if that wasn't enough, Mank in its entirety is also quite straightforward, directed by David Fincher, everything that made it to the screen is flawless.  Take for example the scene where Mank, and the actress Marion Davies (played by Amanda Seyfried) walk through William Hurst's estate; it is clear that we are to be reminded of Xanadu from Citizen Kane, but Fincher references the background images only as needed to support the story, and never at the expense of the conversation that is taking place.  When I mentioned before that Citizen Kane is considered by many to be the greatest film of all time, you may have noticed that I qualified the statement; I personally don't think it's the greatest film, but I also cannot find any flaws.  Of course being flawless, and being the greatest don't necessarily have anything to do with each other.  Mank is a flawless film that has enriched my appreciation of another flawless film, I guess that's pretty high praise.

Promising Young Woman

I was surprised when it was announced that Promising Young Woman was nominated for Best Picture, as my impression of the movie (before seeing it) was that it was a one-note revenge fantasy anti-man flick.  I was wrong, it has more than one note.  Actually, I was impressed by the range of emotions that were displayed in the main character, played by Carey Mulligan.  There are the emotions that you would expect in a woman who has taken it upon herself to protect vulnerable women from despicable men; anger, distrust, hurt, and numbness.  But Mulligan makes the character sympathetic by showing other emotions, which aren't expected in someone so hardened; joy, optimism, and mercy.  The result is a revenge fantasy anti-man flick that's also a well made film, checking-off the previously mentioned boxes of story, character, and action.  The director Emerald Fennell's stylistic approach is very interesting, and also elevated the film out of its genre.  The look is best described as Sofia-Coppola-esque, with one of my favorite moments coming towards the end of the film, as one character's reaction to the Pepto Bismol colored furnishings was priceless.  I had to smile at the music selection; the "man" theme, and the cover of Britney Spears' Toxic were perfect choices, helping to establish the atmosphere, and were in service to the story.  After seeing the film, I'm not at all surprised that Promising Young Woman was nominated for Best Picture; in a year where absolutely nothing happens in half the films nominated, it was refreshing to see a film that saw something through to the end.

The Trial of the Chicago 7

I have to give the filmmakers credit, with The Trial of the Chicago 7 one of the most embarrassing moments in the modern political era has been spun into the best courtroom drama since Coppola's The Rainmaker.  A review of this film exclusively regarding its technical merits would be overwhelmingly positive; the director Aaron Sorkin demonstrates a mastery of storytelling as he weaves together the trial with events leading up to the trial, all while wrangling a large cast of character.  Sorkin keeps the dialogue tight; I never felt lost, but I also never felt like I was being talked down to.  The casting is spot on, with standout performances by Eddie Redmayne as Tom Hayden, Sasha Baron Cohen as Abbie Hoffman, and Mark Rylance as their lawyer.  Of course it would be unfair of me to give The Trial of the Chicago 7 a pass after so recently being critical of Judas and the Black Messiah.  After all, the events of these films overlap, and two of the primary characters from Judas are prominently featured in Chicago 7.  Although there are some similarities, and while the progressive leftists are clearly meant to be sympathetic characters in Chicago 7, Sorkin didn't create a revisionist film, rather he is offering a view from the leftists' points of view.  I feel comfortable drawing this distinction in part because of some research that I have done after watching the film.  At the time of Tom Hayden's death, the New York Times printed an obituary (you can read it here) detailing Hayden's accomplishments, and the political stances that he took, to include his involvement in the events depicted in The Trial of the Chicago 7.  While it's incredibly important that we don't find ourselves among the throng of people admiring the emperor's new robes, we should be open to hearing other points of view.

Judas and the Black Messiah

Once upon a time there was an emperor, who ruled over an empire that encompassed the known world.  To mark the 50th anniversary of his ascension to the throne he decided to throw himself a extravagant banquet, and for the occasion he commissioned a new set of robes from the best tailor in the land.  The tailor, knowing how unreasonable the emperor was, fretted over the design, and stayed up every night for weeks trying to decide what material would be best.  The tailor's indecision escalated into inaction, which is known in certain circles as "tailor's block".  The day of the banquet arrived, and the tailor had nothing to show for his sleepless nights.  But a strange thing happened that day.  When the emperor and his entourage arrived at the tailor's shop, the tailor had a stroke of genius...  The tailor welcomed the emperor and his party into his shop, and asked them to please be seated.  Then he told the emperor that he had received a special fabric from somewhere beyond the boundary of the empire; a fabric that could only be seen by a person of good character.  The tailor told the emperor that he knew that it was unbecoming to speak highly of one's own work, especially in the presence of someone so important as the emperor, but this had to be the most beautiful robe that he'd ever made.  Then the tailor turned to a rack of robes, took out an empty hanger, and bowing before the emperor, extended his hands, and presented the hanger to the emperor.  For a moment the emperor sat there, just staring at the empty hanger.  Then he caught out of the corner of his eye, his closest advisor, also looking at the hanger; he had a smirk on his face, or maybe it was a look of wonder...  The emperor reached out and accepted the hanger, and rising to his feet he exclaimed, "this is the most beautiful robe I've ever seen!"  A moment later, one of the emperor's aides chimed in, saying "that's the most impressive cross stitching I've ever seen!"  One after the other (and in some cases, at the same time) each member of the emperor's entourage praised the magnificent robes.  Long story short, the emperor wore those robes (and nothing else) to the banquet that night.  Depending on who's telling the story, either some young peasant boy blows the whole thing wide open, or the story ends with the robes getting lost at the dry cleaners.  In either case, the moral of the story is that people who are woke won't be satisfied until we all agree with their bullshit.  

When I watch a movie where a terrorist is portrayed as a hero, I can choose to cheer, or I can maintain my integrity.

Sound of Metal

The last scene in Sound of Metal is from the point of view of the main character, a man who has been learning how to be deaf, and has finally reached a major milestone in that journey.  The last scene is meant to be poignantly introspective, a moment of peace and understanding, but the end doesn't come.  Then a few moments later, the end still doesn't come.  Then finally, the movie ends.  My plan for this review was to suggest that the ending is representative of the entire movie, and I was going to argue that the movie was too long, and spent too much time trying to convey simple messages.  But as I began to write, the thought came to my mind that the ending was intentionally representative of the entire movie, and the point is that sometimes it takes a long time to drive a simple message home.  More so than any of the other films that I've reviewed recently, Sound of Metal succeeded in making me sympathetic to its main character.  Even with all his flaws, I found myself wondering how I would handle loosing my hearing.  I definitely identify with his initial denial, and the strong desire not to reach out for help.  I've probably mentioned this in a past review, but as I'm getting older I try not to let my first impression of a film be my final impression.  Years ago I saw the film Blackhawk Down in the theater, and I hated it with all my being.  I told everyone who would listen how bad the movie was, and how frustrating it was to watch.  The opinion that I formed, and the adamant stance that I took, have kept me from re-watching the film to this day.  That being said, I have this sneaking suspicion that Ridley Scott intended on making a film about the horrible situation that those soldiers found themselves in, and likely made the most frustrating war movie that he could.  If that is true, then I've been judging the movie all wrong these past twenty years.  In conclusion, either Sound of Metal held on fifteen seconds too long, or it had a perfect ending; I'll choose to believe the latter.

Nomadland

There are four takeaways that I would like to share after viewing Nomadland:

1.  I have seen YouTube videos by people describing the techniques for van camping, which is the practice of living out of a van, car, or RV without paying a camping fee.  The videos I've watched primarily give advice on where to park overnight, how to avoid drawing unwanted attention, and how to make the inside of the van as comfortable as possible.  One specific video I watched explained the importance of ventilation when heating the van overnight, to avoid carbon monoxide poisoning.  Watching those YouTube videos was a good prologue for Nomadland, which is basically a mocumentary about van camping.

2.  I've now seen Frances McDormand relieving herself twice, which is precisely two more times than I had hoped.

3.  Frances McDormand reciting a sonnet by Shakespeare on a beautiful night in the desert almost makes up for Takeaway No. 2, but not quite.

4.  I have many complaints about Nomadland, first and foremost being that it was shot unnecessarily in a documentary style.  That being said, I found McDormand's performance to be compelling, and I respect that the director, Chloé Zhao allowed the performance to stand on its own, and didn't depend on exposition to explain the character's motivations.  

Minari

Every movie should fall into one (or more) of the following categories:

1. Story (see Apollo 13)

2. Character (see As Good As It Gets)

3. Action (see Jurassic Park)

Obviously the great films span all three categories; for example, Braveheart excels at each, and beats almost every single-category movie at their respective game.

The film Minari doesn't belong in any of the three categories; it has not plot, its characters are unremarkable, and nothing happens.  Minari is about a family that has moved from California to Arkansas so that they can carve out a piece of the American dream by owning their own home and land.  As might be expected, there are challenges and hardships that accompany the transition.  One of the first nights in their new home there is a tornado warning, and not surprisingly everyone is frightened.  The father takes up farming in an attempt to provide for his family, the wife's mother moves in, the son has a heart condition, and the daughter wants to fit in with her peers.  I should have started this paragraph by saying "spoiler alert", because I just described the entire film.  The interesting thing is that I actually enjoyed the film, and I am glad to have seen it.  From time to time it's good to take a break from movies that have plots, characters, and action.  Sometimes it's good to just take a glimpse into another family's life, and look for the lessons that can be learned.

The Father

If David Spade were to review The Father, he would likely say, "I really liked The Father when I saw it back in 1997, under its original title Lost Highway."  The film is expertly crafted, and Anthony Hopkins unsurprisingly delivered an excellent performance, but the techniques used to portray the effects of dementia on the main character end up feeling somewhat gimmicky.  

I find that as time passes after I first view a film, my initial reaction melts away and is replaced with an impression of the given film.  This impression is peppered with distinct memories that support why I feel the way I do about the film.  For example, when I think of Chariots of Fire I can't help but feel joy; joy that comes from the music, from a runner wiping the sea-spray from his face to reveal a huge grin, and the line, “I believe God made me for a purpose, but He also made me fast.  And when I run I feel His pleasure.”  When I think back on watching The Father, my first thought goes to Fincher's Fight Club, and spatterings of films I've seen by Lynch.  Inevitably a director will make artistic decisions that do not work for every viewer, but a good director would be careful not to misuse techniques that evoke such strong memories of completely unrelated films.  Right now I am imagining an ending to The Father in which the daughter enters the apartment, places her scarf on the coat rack, picks up the letters that are strewn haphazardly on the entry table, and turns to see her father standing in the kitchen doorway.  Only instead of it being Anthony Hopkins, there dressed in a heavy grey sweater is a tall and brooding Daniel Day-Lewis.  Cut to black.  Ok, let's see if I can save that as my new memory of The Father. 

Parasite

One of last year's nominees for Best Picture was a black & white film, Roma, about a girl who works as a servant for a wealthy family.  Over the course of the film we see the wealthy family treat their servants with indifference, and sometime with cruelty.  Yet, the closing moments of the film are offer some important perspective; even family members are often treated with indifference and cruelty.  It becomes clear that the girl is a member of the family. 

This year, one of the nominees for Best Picture is a film from South Korea, Parasite, about a family that is struggling to survive by folding pizza boxes for a local pizza shop.  Their WiFi has been turned off, which is a clear indication that they've sunken to a new low.  A friend of the family helps one of the family members get a job as a tutor for teenage daughter of a technology company executive.  In no time at all, through a series of carefully orchestrated personnel changes, the entire family has traded in pizza box folding for jobs in the executive's home.  Roma and Parasite have central characters who are servants for wealthy families, and that's where the comparison ends.  The central characters of Parasite don't have any respect for the wealthy family, to the contrary, they have animosity for them, and look to manipulate them at every opportunity.

What's interesting is that the director of Parasite, Bong Joon Ho doesn't focus on the class conflict, rather he is interested in a certain struggle that is unique to the human condition; shame.  From the opening scenes where it is revealed that the central characters have been failing at everything; they can't keep jobs, they can't stay in school, and they can't fold pizza boxes very well.  As a result each of them feels a certain amount of shame, and they each are handling it in their own way.  What makes this film unique is that it is an amalgamation of two genres; part thoughtful ultra-realism character study (like Roma), and part twisted thriller (like The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo).  While this mixture ultimately worked, there were certain elements that just fell flat.  The scenes that were meant to be jarring felt uninspired, and the believably that was established in the first half of the film was missing during the climax. 

Marriage Story

Marriage Story features two strong performances by its central characters, Kylo Ren and Black Widow.  They started out as happily married couple, but Kylo is frustrated that the Black Widow "took his youth", and Black Widow is bitter about living in New York, when Kylo "promised" that they could move to California to be closer to her family.  This wouldn't be such a heartbreaking film, except that they have a 6 year old son, and apparently they can't decide who should get the couch (even though it seems pretty obvious since Kylo is the one who brought it to the relationship).  Laura Dern plays the opposite of her role in this year's Little Women, Alan Alda plays himself as a lawyer, Ray Liotta plays himself as a lawyer, and Wallace Shawn disappoints as a member of Kylo's theater troupe (because he never utters the phrase "inconceivable", even though it would have worked plenty of times).  It's a good thing that Black Widow is such a good writer, and is able to express her feeling through words so well; otherwise we wouldn't have gotten that amazing happy ending.

Wallace Shawn Disappoints in Marriage Story

1917

1917 is a masterfully executed piece of filmmaking.  The director, Sam Mendes does not use this film to make a case for or against war, rather he use the backdrop of war to celebrate the qualities of the human spirit which only become evident in the harshest of conditions.

The promotional campaign for 1917 has made a big deal about its use of the "one shot" effect, which makes the entire film seem as though it's been captured in a single, long continuous take.  I believe that drawing attention to the technique is contradictory to what makes it so effective.  Mendes and his team of filmmakers took painstaking steps to make the technique invisible; the mechanics of filmmaking should exist with the singular purpose of immersing the audience.  In theory, you shouldn't even notice the technique if done properly; you should be fully absorbed by the events occurring onscreen.  Mendes comes close to accomplishing this.

I am fascinated by the idea that great art is somehow ingrained in our nature.  Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, rather it is an absolute.   You may have experienced this when listening to a beautiful piece of classical music; even though you don't remember hearing it before somehow the arrangement of the notes does not surprise you because each one is so perfectly placed that you can't imagine it any other way.  Classical music doesn't even have to be "your thing" to appreciate that perfect composition when you hear it.  It could be argued that every attempt at creating art has one single perfect outcome; a misplaced note, a heavy-handed stroke of the brush, or an unbalanced frame of film can be the difference between a masterpiece and a mediocre attempt.  1917 opens on a peaceful scene in the French countryside, and introduces us to two young soldiers who we will accompany for the next few hours as they make a harrowing journey across the battlefield on an extremely dangerous mission.  As the film unfolds each moment perfectly compliments the one it follows, and that is a truly an astounding accomplishment.  As an example, towards the end of the film, one of the main characters stumbles into a building which appears to have been severely damaged by artillery.  The people he meets, and the way he leaves them is not simply a detour as it may first appear, but it turns out to be a poignant segment of the overall arc of the film.  1917 consists of a series of events that are perfectly orchestrated to form what ultimately should be considered Mendes' masterpiece.

Best Picture

1917 was the best film of the nine nominated for Best Picture this year - click on the link below to read my review.  If you're interested in my opinions on the other eight films, they're here too,

The Irishman

Joker

Once Upon A Time... in Hollywood

Jojo Rabbit

Little Women

Ford V Ferrari

1917

Marriage Story   

Parasite 

Ford V Ferrari

Ford V Ferrari tells a story that I wasn't previously aware of, but now I am.  Matt Damon plays a guy who can't race anymore, so he uses his passion for the sport to encourage Christian Bale's character to utilize his gift for racing instead of squandering it.  It's pretty much Good Will Hunting in fast cars, with Matt Damon playing the Robin Williams character, and Christian Bale playing the Matt Damon character.  Since I liked Good Will Hunting it should come as not surprise that I also liked Ford V Ferrari.  I like when a movie is enthusiastic about its subject, even when I wouldn't otherwise be interested.  I get the impression that the filmmakers who collaborated to make Ford V Ferrari believe that the competition between these two famous, but vastly different car manufacturers is an important piece of history, worth documenting for posterity.  I'm not sure that I walked away from the movie feeling any different about the history of cars, or the rivalry's impact on the public's perceptions of certain brands of cars.  Ultimately I still think that Ferraris are fast, powerful, and beautiful works of art - but American-made cars are better.  Hands down.  How do you like them apples?

Little Women

You might be surprised to learn that one of my favorite movies is the 1994 version of Little Women, directed by Gillian Armstrong, starring Winona Ryder, Kirsten Dunst, Claire Danes, Eric Stoltz, and Christian Bale.  This is one of the first films that I ever watched with my first wife Jess, and we've watched it dozens of times together over the past 24 years.  I think it's safe to say that I've seen this movie more than any other, and I hope for many more viewings.  This is a sweet movie, about kind people, and builds-up its characters without it coming at anyone's expense.  Little Women is the film version of being wrapped in a blanket, sitting by a crackling fireplace, and watching Little Women with the one you love.  If you sense that there was some sort of paradox in the previous statement, please know that it was intentional.

Oh, now I remember.  There's another film version of Little Women, that just so happens to have been nominated for Best Picture this year.  I actually started this review to discuss the new film, but I really don't believe that I can provide an unbiased criticism since the previous version is so close to my heart.  I will say that the current version of the film is much broader in its scope, and the filmmakers have achieved something quite nice; this is definitely a much needed diversion from the most of the other films nominated for Best Picture this year.  The film is, is directed by Greta Gerwig, who clearly is is trying to say something with the chronological back-and-forth style in which the story is presented.  She may simply be looking to make the story feel more contemporary, but I have a suspicion that its something deeper.  Gerwig definitely succeeds at giving each of the cast an opportunity to connect with the audience.  Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Timothée Chalamet, Meryl Streep, and Chris Cooper all give wonderful performances, in some cases bringing to life characters that were simply in the background in the 1994 version.  Chris Cooper's portrayal of the grandfather who lives next door to the little women was especially moving, and a welcome addition to this interpretation of the story.  That being said, the time spent on supporting characters did mean less attention was paid to those who had all the screen time in the previous version.  I was surprised that Saoirse Ronan's character Jo was given so little time, and felt underdeveloped.  There is a scene towards the end of the film where we see a montage of Jo madly scribbling away at her manuscript (fortunately she's ambidextrous), in a rush to get her novel finished before the film comes to a close.  I won't spoil the ending, so you'll have to go see the movie for yourself to discover whether she was successful.

Jojo Rabbit

Jojo Rabbit is an extremely entertaining, and sometimes heartwarming story about an enthusiastic, but somewhat naïve boy (who goes by the name "Jojo").  Oh yeah, and Jojo is an active member of the Hitler Youth.  If you're uncomfortable with the last sentence, don't worry, this movie is about as left-leaning and politically correct as any movie could possibly be, so there's no risk of sympathizing with anyone who's not as open minded as you are.  The film's director, Taika Waititi also plays the role of Hitler, taking inspiration from Jimmy Stewart's friend Harvey, being there for Jojo as he navigates everyday life as a boy in Nazi Germany.  Waititi understands that contemporary audiences would have difficulty fathoming the atrocities that were committed by Nazis, so he depicts them as ignorant, patriotic, gun-loving, partisans. 

What's worse, to mischaracterize an ideological adversary as being comparable to a Nazi, or to misrepresent the Nazis by assigning them the traits of your ideological adversary?  Both are bad, but I would argue the latter is reprehensible.

On any other night of the year I probably would have closed with the following statement:  Even though I realize that I should be offended, Jojo Rabbit was just entertaining enough that I can't stay angry for long.  But tonight is different, since I found out just yesterday that a man that I admire greatly, Rush Limbaugh has been diagnosed with advanced-stage lung cancer, and the prognosis is uncertain.  Rush wouldn't let a movie like Jojo Rabbit get away with being reprehensible, and laugh it off in for the sake of entertainment.  He would call-out Waititi, and would caution his listeners not to unwittingly support such a perverted worldview.  And I'm reminded of many Godly men in my life who would be disappointed to find me promoting such a film.  So I must refrain from recommending Jojo Rabbit; its faults far outweigh its merits.  There are many better films to choose from.  I for one endeavor to search them out, and I will share my findings with you.

Once Upon A Time... in Hollywood

My introduction to Quentin Tarantino films 25 years ago came at a time when I was very impressionable; there was something electric about Tarantino's personality that sparked my imagination and changed the way I think of movies.  The mid to late 90s was filled with filmmakers young and old trying to capture something of Tarantino's style, but they were all uninspired copies.  I believe that the description "Tarantinoesque" is only applicable to the works of the master himself, and some of his films deserve the honor more than others.  Once Upon A Time... in Hollywood is definitely Tarantinoesque.  This is a film about characters who are loved by Tarantino, so he treats them with care.  I was surprised by the measured pace at which the story unfolds, it's quite clear that Tarantino is in no rush to get to the end; these are characters that he wants to spend time with.  The observant reader may notice that my recent review of The Irishman was critical of its long runtime.  The difference is that any reasonable person would want to spend as little time as possible with the despicable gangsters depicted in The Irishman.  Once Upon A Time... in Hollywood, on the other hand, has Tarantinoesque heroes; hopelessly flawed individuals that somehow get on your good side.  Now these heroes aren't necessarily the type of people that you would want to have living next door...  On second thought, maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

Over the past 25 years what it means to be Tarantinoesque has changed, and it's likely that any film geek you ask will have a different definition.  There are some who associate Tarantino with graphic depictions of violence, and would be disappointed if there wasn't at least one scene that would necessitate some clean-up advice from The Wolf, and a closet full of Jimmy's towels.  I myself have always ascribed to Roger Ebert's analysis of Tarantino, who argued that the most effective scenes in Tarantino films are the ones with the threat of violence.  Once Upon A Time... in Hollywood contains one such extended sequence; the sense of danger that Tarantino creates is nerve racking, and has a much greater impact on establishing characters and the theme of the film than the closing moments of graphic brutality. 

I believe that Tarantino takes pleasure in creating graphically violent scenes, and that is disappointing for two reasons.  The first and most important reason being that "from the fruit of his mouth a man eats what is good, but the desire of the treacherous is for violence" (Proverbs 13:2).  And the second reason is that I expect more from Tarantino than to have every story he tells deteriorate into a revenge fantasy bloodbath.  Only Tarantino to can change the what it means to be Tarantinoesque; I for one am hoping that he gets better with age, and by that I mean "like wine". 

Joker

The amazing performance by Joaquin Phoenix in Joker is on the same level as Jack Nicholson's portrayal of McMurphy in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.  Unfortunately the movie is undeserving of the performance, with the writers and director seemingly confused as to whether they wanted to make a comic book movie or a serious film.  This may seem like a contradiction if you know how much I admire Nolan's Batman series; the difference is that Nolan made serious comic book films.  Todd Phillips, the director of Joker, comes so close to conducting a compelling examination of a deeply troubled man, but allows psychological thriller clichés, and forced comic book references distract from the central story.  The what's real, and what's in his head flashbacks worked really well in Fight Club, but that was a comic book of a movie.  I get that this movie was sold to the studio as a Joker origin story, and is meant to lend relevance to the genre like Logan did a few years back, but a few references to Wayne family members that could have been replaced by any rich family seemed completely unnecessary and out of place.  Honestly it would have been better if the movie would have been named after the main character, with no explicit references to the Batman comics; then perhaps a fan theory would have developed with people arguing that Arthur Fleck is really the Joker, and that would have been a truly interesting contribution to pop culture.  But movies are business, and a film about some average Joe with a mental disorder wouldn't have been enough to sell tickets; so instead of a great film, we get a great performance in a forgettable movie. 

The Irishman

It is difficult to consider The Irishman on its own merits; while some may suggest that the film represents a culmination of the director, Martin Scorsese's career, I found it to be a moderately good film, and  unnecessarily long.  Please note that I am not complaining about the length of the film, I am simply suggesting that this could have been a great film if Scorsese would have trimmed the superfluous elements.  I have considered the possibility that Scorsese intentionally crafted the film with an extended runtime to convey the sense of weariness experienced by the main character.  If Scorsese's intent was to bore me, he was triumphant.  Unfortunately I believe that even the greatest directors suffer from their own success; whatever drove them to strive for perfection has been replaced with the belief that they can do no wrong.  Examples of this can be seen in anything from Wes Anderson post The Royal Tenenbaums, Quentin Tarantino post Pulp Fiction, and George Lucas post A New Hope.  That's not to say that Scorsese and these other great directors don't continue to demonstrate greatness after achieving success, it's just that their subsequent work is muddied with self-indulgence.

Jude and I watched Goodfellas just a few days before going to see The Irishman, and it's impressive how the former film epitomizes Scorsese's ability to weave a cautionary tale into a virtuoso visual experience that would have been an exploitation flick in the hands of a lesser director.  Only a complete moron could walk away from seeing Goodfellas with aspirations of becoming a gangster.  Where Goodfellas dispels the glamorous portrayal of gangsters in popular culture, The Irishman is interested in the effects that one man's life of crime has on his soul.  This is a lofty theme for Scorsese to tackle, yet when measured against cinematic standards that he established in previous films, the result is not as satisfying.  We're shown one example after another of the main character (played by Robert De Niro) committing horrible crimes that end up hurting his family and friends.  Scorsese is interested in exploring how this behavior changes the man over the course of his life, and whether he has regrets as the end draws near.  I can admit that my disappointment in the answers to these questions may be a sign that Scorsese was successful in conveying his message.  Alright, maybe this was a great film.

Avengers: Endgame

I wrote the following immediately after seeing Avengers: Endgame for the first time.  I've seen it again since, and I believe that my initial impressions hold true:

True heroes must be defined by the sacrifice that they make while accomplishing great feats for others.  Let me explain what I mean; a guy dropping a bomb from a UAV could never be a hero because he gets to drive home to his family after work that day.  An NFL quarterback could never be a hero because ultimately everything he does on the field is self-serving.  As an aside, I recently saw an advertisement for Budweiser featuring Dwayne Wade in which his off-the-court contributions to the community were detailed; showing that it's possible for a professional athlete to be a hero, just not during his day job.  Using this definition of heroes, none of the Avengers qualify because none of them face any real risk of life and limb, therefore there is no real sacrifice.

Hawkeye's family dying during the opening sequence would have been an emotionally powerful stroke of filmmaking genius, if only there had been one iota of a chance that they wouldn't be returned safe and sound by the movie's finish.

Star Wars Episode IX

When I was ten years old my family lived on Mare Island, which is where my first memories of discussing Star Wars begin.  The phrase "fan theories" hadn't been coined yet, because nobody had taken movies so seriously before.  Return of the Jedi's finale has sparked more "what happens next" conversations than any other movie ever made.  Luke's journey to becoming a Jedi is barely achieved, and the movie was over.  Han finds out that Leia is available, and the screen wipes to the closing credits.  Light sabers, speederbikes, the Forest of Endor, AT-STs, Chewbacca, and the Millennium Falcon... it was all over too soon.  So we started hearing rumors, and adding our thoughts; maybe we created the stories that evolved into the momentum that made it inevitable that the story would be revisited.  The reason I mention Mare Island, is that there is one distinct memory I have of my friend Brett telling me how the next movie was going to be all about the Empress; Luke, Han, and Leia's kids would have to fight to defeat her.  Good call Brett.

Our house on Mare Island

Best Picture

Now that I've seen each of the films nominated in the Best Picture category, let me give my final analysis and prediction.

The eight nominated films (click any one to go to my review)


A Star Is Born

Blackkklansman

Black Panther

Bohemian Rhapsody

The Favorite

The Green Book

Roma

Vice


Blackkklansman is probably the most deserving.

Bohemian Rhapsody, while formulaic, probably was the most enjoyable film, thanks in large part to the music of Queen.

I wouldn't be surprised if Black Panther wins.

Hopefully this coming year delivers a stronger contingent of contenders.

Vice

Director Adam McKay's inspiration for Vice is clearly any film by Oliver Stone; this is an unabashedly a one-sided depiction of Vice President Cheney's time in office.

That McKay directed 2015's The Big Short isn't surprising, it was a film told with much the same energy and political slant.  What may be more surprising is that McKay directed Anchorman, Talladega Nights, and Step Brothers - maybe it's not so surprising, since he seems more concerned with getting a laugh than actually contributing anything substantive.

Christian Bale leads a cast of excellent actors and actresses who could easily use the caricatures they've created to Saturday Night Live.  There's nothing wrong with that considering this is a Stone-esque dark comedy, but please don't confuse this with dramatic acting.  Well, except for Christian Bale - his Dick Cheney is so much fun to watch that accuracy doesn't really matter.

Roma

Ok, so I watched Roma earlier today, and it was the last of this year's Best Picture films I had to watch.  The first two hours of this film were quite boring, and sometimes painful to watch.  Yet, here is the antithesis film to The Last Samurai - the last ten minutes of this film redeem everything that precedes it.  That's not to say that the first two hours are bad, they're just slow and uninteresting.  I'm not sure that the black and white contributed to the film, except to make it feel like it was from the past.  I'm not sure what airplanes flying overhead at key scenes what meant to signify.  I'm not familiar with the political unrest that was going on in the part of the world where Roma is set during the 1970s.  Honestly the film wasn't compelling enough to make me search for answers to these questions, but at least my final impression of the film is that it was a good one.

The Green Book

Jess and I saw The Green Book just before it was announced as one of this year's Best Picture contenders.  Everything about this film is adequate - I wish that I could say it's better than that.  The title refers to books that were available in the 1930s through 1960s to help black people identify hotels and restaurants that would serve them.  While the film does deal with the racial tensions in the United States during the 1960s, this conflict is simply used as a backdrop to create a challenge that the main characters must overcome.  Unfortunately the historic element feels forced, and is only adequate in its effectiveness in supporting the story.  The director, Peter Farrelly has made some truly stand-out comedies in his career including Dumb and Dumber, Me, Myself & Irene, and There's Something About Mary.  I think The Green Book proves that Farrelly should stick to comedies.  Viggo Mortensen is adequate as the white guy, and Mahershala Ali is adequate as the black guy.  Like I said, it's an adequate film.

The Favourite

I didn’t want to like The Favourite; the tidbits of reviews I was unable to avoid over the past few months led me to believe that this would be a mean-spirited depiction of despicable people from a time period that is of very little interest to me.  My impressions were correct, but in spite of this I found the film to be quite captivating.  In the film, Olivia Colman plays a physically and mentally unstable Queen Anne, who has a twisted relationship with two manipulative women played by Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone.  The title of the film refers to the savage competition between Weisz’s and Stone’s characters to be the queen’s closest confidant.

This is the first film that I’ve seen from director Yorgos Lanthimos, and I must say that he brought a very distinctive style to The Favourite; the deep rich colors in the set design and costumes, the foreboding score, and the ostentatious cinematography all combined to great effect.  Just about every shot is low, looking upwards, giving a somewhat claustrophobic feel to the film; the audience never is on the same level as the characters onscreen.  Wide lenses are used throughout the film, which was distracting at first, but as I became accustomed to the perspective, it became clear that everything in frame had purpose.  It’s actually quite impressive that Lanthimos was able to transition from one subject to another with a smooth wide angle lens pan. 

I cannot in good conscience recommend The Favourite, because it is all the horrible things that I expected it to be, without any redeeming qualities.  It is a well-made, effective film that showcases Hollywood’s obsession with depravity, and a culture that confuses technical mastery with beauty.

First Man

I was intrigued when I heard that Damien Chazelle was directing a film about Neil Armstrong and the events that led up to the first manned moon mission.  Would Chazelle be able to conjure the same energy that rocketed him to the top with Whiplash and La La Land?  Would the clout afforded top Hollywood directors make it possible for him to capture the best space sequences ever filmed?  The short answer is no.  Apollo 13 retains it position atop the list of most compelling space dramas, and to my knowledge holds the title for best rocket launch and space sequences.  That being said, Chazelle's First Man surprised me with a down-to-Earth look at Neil Armstrong.  The film focuses more on Armstrong's relationship with his wife, and their struggle to remain close within the context of a history-defining, seemingly impossible mission.  Ryan Gosling as Neil, and Claire Foy as his wife Janet find the right rhythms in their portrayal of these characters.  Foy's Janet understands how the Neil's mission is important on many levels; it has historical significance, it is her husband's passion, and ultimately it will be a reflection of her too.  Instead of treating a supporting character like a second class citizen, Chazelle emphasizes the importance of being a supportive partner.  A lesser film might suggest that Neil Armstrong's wife made it possible for him to walk on the moon, First Man makes it clear that he wouldn't have made it there without her. 

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald

The Harry Potter film series had its high and low points - Prisoner of Azkaban being the high point, and any game of Quiddich or "wand duel" after the first film being the low points. Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald reaches a new low in the Harry Potter universe; and I'll explain why in the next few sentences.  All the characters are disinteresting (I'm not sure that's really a word), and more than that, the main character is disinterested.  Some of my favorite cinematic protagonists are the reluctant heroes (i.e. any Humphrey Bogart character), but Newt Scamander is so reluctant that I'm somewhat surprised that he even showed up for auditions.  The only clear memory I have of the movie is an extended long awkward moment between Johnny Depp and Jude Law - I believe that one of them is supposed to be playing Dumbledore, and I believe that the scene was meant to be somehow erotic.  But wait, I thought one of these guys is really evil...  Why would a woke Dumbledore fall for the bad guy?  Well nevermind, I'm not really sure why I'm labeling anyone the "bad guy", I can't really remember either of these two character doing anything interesting.  I do remember Newt swimming in some subterranean fish pond, I think he was feeding something, most likely some really fascinating computer-generated mythical creature...  Well that's my review, and now I plan to never think of this movie again.

The Equalizer 2

Director Antoine Fuqua and star Denzel Washington bring a level of professionalism to The Equalizer 2, effectively elevating it above its B-movie source material.  But why do we need professional B-movies?   Some may argue that Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and Kill Bill are glorified B-movies, but they'd be wrong.  Tarantino created a new genre, the homage to B-movies, that rises to the level of a new artform.  Fuqua and Washington are simply making a better B-movie, but it's still just a B-movie.  I do wonder why men who brought us the genre-defining Training Day are making relatively standard revenge flicks.  Perhaps it's for the money, or maybe they genuinely enjoy making these movies.  Personally I'd rather see something a bit more substantive.

Deadpool 2

Why did I see Deadpool 2?

I'm a guy.

Part of me wishes that I could turn my nose up at movies like Deadpool 2 and stay home, sitting by the fireplace drinking a nice glass of Scotch while reading another Graham Greene travel book.

I can't speak to the qualities of Deadpool 2, in the same way that it's impossible to describe the qualities of most popular culture from the last 2264 years.  So really what's the point in writing a review? 

I can say that I laughed at some of the jokes, winced at some of the moments of violence, and marveled at the special effects.  Overall it was another unfulfilling experience at the movies - at least I didn't rack up exorbitant library fines like the last time I read a Graham Greene travel book.

Christopher Robin

When I write a review many months after seeing the film I have a tendency to describe my impression of the film; the details are somewhat fuzzy.  I remember liking Christopher Robin for the reasons that I've always liked Winnie-the-Pooh stories; the childlike honesty and charming naiveté are a refreshing departure from the cynical worldview portrayed in most movies.  I liked the way that Winnie-the-Pooh and the other animal characters were portrayed in the film, from an artistic standpoint the look and feel was just right.  I also liked Ewan McGregor in this film, his performance as a grown-up Christopher Robin captured the character well and found the right tone.  The film wasn't without flaws, as is so often the case with digital effects, there were quite a few moments when Winnie-the-Pooh and his animal friends were portrayed in a way that distracted from the story.  In the books (and animated Disney films) these characters quite often find themselves in misadventures, but the level of zaniness and cartoony action in this film was out of place.  Overall I remember liking the film, and could recommend it in good conscience.

Braveheart

Braveheart is a nearly perfect film.  The following is not a review, it is simply an exercise to help me understand better how the film is structured:

I. Introduction.
a. Central characters are introduced - including love interest.
b. Traumatic event sets protagonist on life's journey.
c. Antagonist's depravity is established.

II. 1st Act
a. Protagonist returns home after a time of personal growth.
b. Central characters are reunited, and deeper relationships develop.
c. Tension between protagonist and antagonist is released in the form of violence.
d. Protagonist rallies people to his side - their movement builds momentum.

III. 2nd Act
a. The tide changes, it becomes clear that the antagonist's depravity knows no bounds
b. Characters true natures are revealed - new enemies and allies emerge.
c. The odds appear overwhelming, but the protagonist struggles forward.

IV. Final Act
a. A final confrontation between the protagonist and antagonist is set in motion.
b. The way in which this final confrontation unfolds is more important than the outcome in its affect on the remaining central characters.
c. The protagonist defeats the antagonist, even if it is not yet evident to the average onlooker.

V. Epilogue - The protagonist's victory is revealed, and the message of the story is clearly affirmed.

Bohemian Rhapsody

The "progressives" of the world, such as Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, tell us that we should be sympathetic towards the Freddie Mercury's of the world because we've been born with an unfair advantage, or privilege.  Bryan Singer's Bohemian Rhapsody latches on to this concept and suggests that no matter how many other advantages Mercury might have been born into, a wealthy family, loving parents, natural talent, etc., having just one progressive-approved disadvantage entitles him to behave however he likes.  And please don't think that I'm somehow misrepresenting Ocasio-Cortez on this issue, you can listen to her here, if you so choose.

Of course Bohemian Rhapsody is about a creative genius, whose music rises about cultural strife - I find it difficult to believe that anyone, of any race, color, religious creed, national origin, ancestry, sex, sexual orientation, age, genetic information, military service, disability, etc. doesn't enjoy a rousing performance of Fat Bottomed Girls.

I think it would be unfair of me not to give credit to Rami Malek (who plays Freddie Mercury) and Bryan Singer for making Bohemian Rhapsody such a strong film, in spite of the unfair advantages discussed in the previous paragraphs.  Malek plays Mercury convincingly, and there were moments in the film when I was sympathetic towards the man I saw onscreen, which is a testament to his acting ability.  Singer's direction is intentional and effective, he knows when to hold the shot on grandiose concert scenes, and when to focus on close intimate moments.  It's important to remember though that Singer is the same director who made The Usual Suspects, he's working with quite a bit of filmmaking privilege.

Blockers

I heard an interview on NPR with Kay Cannon, the director Blockers, in which the audio from a scene in the movie was played as an example of its witty writing.  Shame on NPR for playing the only funny part of the movie, and suggesting that this was indicative of the entire movie.

BlacKkKlansman

Spike Lee's Blackklansman is a well made film, contains some compelling characters, and tells an interesting story.  For most filmmakers this would be enough, but Spike Lee seems intent on making it clear that Blackkklansman is a poignant and important film too, which it is not.  I went into the film under the impression that it would be the story of a black man somehow infiltrating the KKK, which I found fascinating because I'm sure that would be frowned upon by the majority of members...  It turns out that a black police officer did infiltrate the KKK, albeit over the phone, and one of his white counterparts handled all the face-to-face meetings.  This was pretty clever, and the situation lends itself to many humorous (and sometimes sad) phone conversations between the KKK grand wizard and the black police officer.  Ultimately it's the white police officer who is risking life and limb, but the film isn't so much about bravery as it is about exposing how deeply racism is rooted in American society.  At its heart, this is a film about two police officers who, regardless of race, are committed to making their city a better place.

If the film had ended there, so would my review, and it would have been overwhelmingly positive.  Instead, Spike Lee jumps forward 40+ years to a white supremacist rally, showing footage of the incident where a white man drove his car into a crowd of counter protesters, killing a 32 year old woman, and injuring many other people.  Does Lee include this clip to remind us that there is still racial tension in this country?  Does Lee feel as though its his moral duty to convey a serious message in a film that otherwise could be simply seen as entertainment?  As I ask these questions, I realize that I don't really have an issue with Lee's approach; after all it is his film.  Maybe more films should have a closing statement, something thought provoking to make the 2-hour runtime a little worthwhile.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

Joel and Ethan Coen have made some of the best movies in the past 35 years.  My first Coen brothers' movie was The Hudsucker Proxy back in the winter of '94, and I've been a fan ever since.  They've made some really funny movies, some really great films, and some quirky near misses.  The Ballad of Buster Scruggs has its moments, but overall must be placed in the "near miss" category.
Unfortunately, this made-for-Netflix feature length movie feels just like a made-for-Netflix feature length movie.  Now I realize that Netflix and Amazon have produced films that become Oscar contenders, but those are definitely in the minuscule minority.  I'm concerned that The Ballad of Buster Scruggs could be part of a trend, where filmmakers see the opportunity to make a quick buck without fear of too much criticism, because bad movies are the norm on these streaming platforms.  That being said, I really enjoyed the first of The Ballad of Buster Scruggs' four episodes - it was laugh-out-loud funny and had the quirkiness of O Brother, Where Art Thou?  I'm not sure why the brothers ran this episode first, perhaps it's because they saw the metrics showing that the average streamer only gets through the first 10 minutes of a movie before switching back to watching The Office or Friends...  If you don't front-load a Netflix movie, no one will ever see the rest.


FYI - I completely made up the statistic used towards the end of this review, but it seemed to support my argument.

Avengers: Infinity War

I thoroughly enjoyed Avengers: Infinity War while I was watching it, but walked away feeling unsatisfied.  My first draft digressed into a fanboy rant focused on how commercialism has stripped all weight of death from the Marvel universe.  Disney might be willing to sacrifice one superhero in the name of art, but wiping out (spoiler alert) half the superhero population is laughable in its transience.  Thanos might have well just shot the Avengers with a paintball gun; their vaporization will be reversed with the stroke of a pen.  Alright, so the fanboy rant survived to the final draft (there were only two after all).  Avengers: Infinity War was enjoyable because anything could happen.  The universe is the Avenger's playground, you never know where they're going to be next, or who they'll run into.  Even the psychopathic villain who is hell-bent on committing genocide is somehow likable because the special effects by which he is rendered are so amazing.  Yet every character is a slave to the plot, which wouldn't be so bad if the plot were any good.  Doctor Strange seems to have a plan, but I have a sneaking suspicion that he's in collusion with the Disney executives to keep the sequels coming.  Here's the weird thing, I'm looking forward to the next movie (and the one after that), but I'm not necessarily looking forward to the drive home from the theater.

A Star is Born

It's fortuitous that A Star Is Born comes alphabetically just before Avengers: Infinity War, because it gives me the opportunity to examine the shallow end of the pool.  I'll start with this, my review of A Star is Born: 

I have to hand it to Bradley Cooper, the director of, and leading man in A Star is Born; he almost had me convinced that his movie had depth.  Some of the most entertaining movies keep you questioning their value up until the final moments, when the significance of everything preceding it is revealed.  Bradley Cooper made the opposite movie.  I was moved during a scene early in the movie when Bradley Cooper playing a veteran rock star invites his new girlfriend (played by Lady Gaga) onstage to perform a duet.  This scene was moving because Cooper (as a director and an actor) had effectively established each character as sympathetic, and only teased us with their singing ability.  Together they were far better then apart.  If that was the message of the movie, I would have quickly forgiven the cliché, but that's not what this movie is about, it's just the setup.  And believe you me, I'm ok with a depressing movie from time to time, but at least have the decency to own your pessimistic world view...  A Star is Born is a movie about a man with no depth who tries to teach the importance of being true to yourself, whose student has no depth and doesn't get the lesson.  Perhaps there's some irony to be found, but not enough to be worth looking for. 

The moment I previously described from early in the movie when Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga sang together was great, and it was followed by other scenes showcasing their amazing talent.  It's too bad that a certain AA counselor didn't pick up on Cooper's foreshadowing during a speech towards the end of the second act... and he was laying it on pretty thick.  And that's why you should always listen when a rock star is telling you a tragic story from his childhood.

A Quiet Place

I have seen A Quiet Place twice now, which should be sufficient testimony of the film's worth.  I first watched the film because I found the trailer to be intriguing, I was hoping that the necessity for silence would be more than a gimmick, and I was pleased to find that "a quiet place" has a much deeper meaning than the trailer implied.  I was captivated by the complex relationships that were explored in such an interesting and thoughtful way.  I watched the film a second time because the first viewing was a surprisingly uplifting experience. 

A Quiet Place isn't a perfect movie; it follows certain rules of the genre that require the viewer to suspend in-depth logical analysis.  My primary criticism would be with its creatures, while much could be said for the artistic creativity in their production, overall their visual representation was anti-climactic; an unseen terror is far more effective. 

Criticisms aside, A Quiet Place has on of the best "silence breaking moments" in recent history.  I'm referring to a wonderful moment where two characters share one pair of earbuds.  What are your favorite moments like this from other films?

The Wolf of Wall Street

Apparently I wrote the following review a few years back, and probably didn't post it for good reasons...  This isn't an endorsement, just a review:

Any movie that can make me question long-held beliefs must be doing something right.  If you listen to the leftists of the world (i.e. Al Gore) you would conclude that Capitalism is a pervasive evil that must be dismantled before it destroys us all.  On the other extreme we find Rush Limbaugh, who equates Capitalism with Godliness.  I would suggest that our country wouldn't be what it is today without Capitalism; the good and the bad.  Greedy, selfish Capitalists placed us in the unique position to save the world from Nazism and Japanese imperialism at the same time.  You might argue that it was our country's Godly foundation which led to a World War II victory.  Or you might point to the blessings of natural resources, or the motivating power of good vs. evil...  Sure, that's all true, but greedy, selfish Capitalists played an integral part. 

Now you're beginning to wonder, what has this to do with The Wolf of Wall Street?  Martin Scorsese has made a movie which should be both inspiring and totally offensive to any reasonable person.  There is no aristocracy in the United States, everyone has the opportunity to better him or her self.  Inherent with this freedom is the potential for devastating failure and degradation.  Scorsese has crafted an allegory; warning all viewers of the pitfalls associated with Capitalism.  In an early scene, Matthew McConaughey's character offers his advice on how to be a great stock broker.  He carefully plots a routine of drug and alcohol use to maximize his effectiveness; the ultimate goal is to make as much money as possible.  Health, kindness, peace, love, integrity,... none of these are even factors in his approach, only self-gratification and money.  The main character in the film, played by Leonardo DiCaprio takes this advice to heart, and the result is an empty life of excess.

I don't think that Scorsese is so hypocritical as to be criticizing success, or the competitive nature of Capitalism.  Rather, this film plays more as a warning to those who would naïvely assume that any system is run by "good" people.  We are the sheep.  The guys dominating on Wall Street are the wolves.  The most poignant moment in The Wolf of Wall Street comes during an explanation; making money for investors is unimportant to the broker, because making money for the broker is the only thing.  In a perfect world Capitalism would be wonderful; a flawless balance of supply and demand would bring peace and harmony.  In a perfect world Communism would be wonderful too... 

Where this film made me question my beliefs has to do with the infectious nature of evil.  I'd like to believe that greedy, selfish Capitalists helped win World War II, with no negative side effects.  I'd like to believe that greedy, selfish, white Capitalists settled this country (relocating and murdering along the way), with no lasting negative side effects.  I'd like to believe that greedy, selfish Capitalists can run our banks, corporations, churches, etc. with no negative side effects.  Scorsese is telling me to wake up.  That's all this film is, an exposé.  What should be done next?, well that is a really important question.

Best Picture

Now that I've seen each of the films nominated in the Best Picture category, let me give my final analysis and prediction.

The nine nominated films (click any one to go to my review)

Get Out
The Post
Lady Bird
Dunkirk
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri
Call Me By Your Name
Phantom Thread
Darkest Hour
The Shape of Water

• My favorite was Phantom Thread, although I may never watch it again - the experience will live in my memory.
• The most entertaining was Get Out.
• The most uplifting was Darkest Hour.
• Call Me By Your Name was the best from a filmmaking perspective, and thus deserves the award.
• I wouldn't be surprised if the Academy gives the award to The Shape of Water, because Hollywood has a depraved sense of beauty.

Get Out

Get Out is formulaic in its structure, yet surprising in its presentation. The plot could be explained in a few brief sentences: A young black man hesitantly agrees to go with his white girlfriend to visit her affluent parents. His apprehension quickly transitions into fear as he realizes that something isn’t quite right with the girlfriend’s family. The family and their social circle exude cult-like vibes; all the white people are too friendly and the few black people are in a trance. As the truth is uncovered in the third act, it is clear that the protagonist is in real danger, and a series of violent confrontations drives the film to its final reveal. Back in 1960 Psycho used the same formula, as have a plethora of psychological thrillers and horror movies in the years since. The director of Get Out, Jordan Peele doesn’t try to reinvent the formula; honestly the film is quite predictable. Where directors like M. Night Shyamalan makes thrillers that have legitimately scary moments in the vein of Hitchcock, that’s not what Peele is going for. Instead, Peele is using this genre as a vehicle to comment on the state of racial relations in society today. He points out that bald-faced racism of past generations has been replaced by a self-righteous short-sighted attitude amongst those who consider themselves ‘enlightened’. Peele suggests that pretending no racial divide exists is just as offensive as open racism – his heroes are the honest people of the film, the ones who see what’s really going on.

I liked that Peele didn’t veer from the tone that he established early on in the film, the temptation to shock and splatter the screen with blood must have been there (and I realize this is relative), but he chose moderation. The result is that the audience is allowed to process what the film was about, instead of how gruesome the last 20 minutes were. It bothers me that so many movies resort to graphic violence, when a good story and compelling acting are much more effective. I will also mention that the main character’s friend, a TSA agent who serves as a voice of reason (and comic relief) throughout the film, is a great example of Peele’s talented sense of timing and balance. Peele masterfully uses this character as a sort of narrator; he’s seeing the events unfold much in the same way we are. My question would be, is he a reliable, or unreliable narrator?

Black Panther

I can unequivocally say that Black Panther is the best comic book film adaptation since Thor: Ragnarok, and it very well may hold that distinction until May of this year.  Perhaps you sense a little comic book fatigue, which would be an accurate assessment.  Singer's X-Men and Nolan's Batman Begins heralded a Golden Age of comic book movies, but also opened the floodgate to studios greenlighting every project that comes their way.  For every excellent adaptation, there are at least five or six mediocre offerings.  The director of Black Panther, Ryan Coogler should be given credit for a valiant effort, but there are flaws which have become all to common in recent comic book movies:

1.  Too many uninteresting characters steal precious time from the central characters.
2.  If you can't make the digital effect look good, just leave the scene on the cutting room floor (or drag and drop to the recycle bin...).
3.  If you want the film to be a political commentary, own it.  Don't insult the audience with thinly veiled allusions to contemporary politics.

Coogler got some really important elements right, enough to redeem an otherwise bland movie:

1.  Costume design is amazing, vibrant, and is the visual thread that holds the film together.
2.  Casting Chadwick Boseman as the Black Panther, Lupita Nyong'o as Nakia, Forest Whitaker as Zuri, Michael B. Jordan as Killmonger, and Andy Serkis as Klaue was right on, each of these performers were excellent in their roles.
3.  The soundtrack by Kendrick Lamar and score by Ludwig Göransson combine fluidly to create a distinct atmosphere throughout the film. While I liked Thor: Ragnarok's multiple uses of Zeppelin's Immigrant Song, I can admit that the action sequence montage is one of the clichés that detracts from comic book movies. Coogler smartly avoided this by using fresh music instead of depending on classic or popular compositions, which makes the film feel new and distinct.

The Post

As an exercise in filmmaking, Spielberg's The Post pads a resume that's already bursting at the seams (I realize that I'm mixing metaphors).  Everything onscreen supports Spielberg's vision; it would be difficult to find any flaws with this film, and the virtuoso newsprinting sequence alone is worth the price of admission.  So, if you want to see one movie in your entire life about the heroics of journalists, then go no further than The Post.  But if you saw Spotlight a few years ago, or All The President's Men, or any other film in this sub-genre, then you've already gotten the general gist of The Post.  In a nutshell, every journalist is full of unbiased integrity, seeking the truth, and is a defender and champion of the Constitution.  I have to give Spielberg credit, the two main characters call each other out on relationships that threaten their impartiality.  But Spielberg's conclusion is that his heroes are immune to corruption, and their sympathetic nature makes them better people, and thereby better journalists.  This may be the most one-sided Spielberg movie ever made, and I'm including the fact that you couldn't even see the Nazis during the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan.  I don't think that a great film must give equal time, or even pretend to be objective, but I found the preachiness of this film to be intellectually dishonest, and somewhat offensive.  That the Government tried to prohibit the publication of classified documents was met with righteous indignation, yet only a few throw-away lines addressed the possible consequences of printing national secrets.  The irony is that the outcome of history is used to justify decisions that, given a different outcome, would be considered treasonous.  There is even a point in the film when one of the lawyers representing the journalists is asked whether he would have supported printing documents that would have undermined the D-Day invasion; this question goes unanswered.  You might be surprised to hear that overall I liked the film; if someone is going to piss me off, it might as well be one of the best directors of all time...

Lady Bird

Lady Bird is a film that follows a seventeen year old girl through her senior year of high school.  She has a father who's struggling to provide for his family, but does what he can to encourage Lady Bird.  She has a mother who sometimes burdens her with the family's problems, but is ultimately preparing Lady Bird for life.  She makes bad decisions when it comes to school, friends, and boys.  What separates this film from the typical "coming of age" teenage comedy/drama is that Lady Bird is pretty well grounded; she knows when she's made bad decisions, she regrets being selfish, and she is sympathetic to her parents' hardships.  While this is a refreshing change from the standard Hollywood portrayal of teenagers, it honestly isn't very entertaining.  Call me shallow, but I prefer Clueless and 10 Things I Hate About You.  Those are examples of films that don't honestly reflect the typical teenage experience, but they sure are fun to watch.  Lady Bird is a well made film which contains a wonderfully nuanced performance by Laurie Metcalf as Lady Bird's mom; but it wan't enough to keep me interested.  I know that life can be monotonous, and I realize that sometimes great films exist to remind us of that, but this didn't quite rise to that level.

Dunkirk

I'm not sure why I didn't write this back in July, but better late than never...

Dunkirk was an interesting project for Christopher Nolan to undertake, more than anything else I get the impression that this is a story that is important to him.  Nolan's strengths as a director are apparent in Dunkirk, but the film suffers because his focus is not tight enough.  Nolan's greatest works have begun with a simple premise, which were expanded upon with just the right amount of narrative and details: The Prestige was about commitment, Inception dealt with belief, and Memento delved into the intricacies of loss.  Dunkirk is about any number of things; perseverance, ingenuity, and hope.  It's probably about many other important ideas too, which is why it is a good film.  What keeps it from being great is that Nolan never seems to know where the film's center should be, and this results in weak sub-plots and unnecessary characters taking up valuable screen time.  That being said, the cinematography, acting, effects, and sound are all superb.  It's not surprising that Nolan chose to focus on the Battle of Dunkirk's closing days and the ensuing evacuation; there are important lessons to be learned, and expressing those ideas is a challenge worthy of a great filmmaker.  It also should be noted that this film pairs well with Joe Wright's Darkest Hour, which is about Churchill making decisions that ultimately decide the fate of those at Dunkirk.  Nolan's Dunkirk will not have the lasting impact of Saving Private Ryan or Bridge on the River Kwai; that's because those films stayed on target from start to finish - Dunkirk is too much of a good thing.