Tinseltown’s swaggering hero Burt Reynolds passed away today, and one of this famously mustached actor’s final movies is Adam Rifkin’s The Last Movie Star (C-), now available on demand after a spring premiere at the Tribeca Film Festival. This autumnal Tennessee-set tribute to a faded star – the ornery type who routinely uses words such as schmuck, putz and tuchas – co-opts some of the screen legend’s real-life highs and lows as he commences a requiem for his glory days. Lured to a small-time movie retrospective where organizers plan to fete him with lifetime achievement status, Reynolds’ aging protagonist ends up by happenchance accompanying a miscreant ingenue (Ariel Winter) on an uneven misadventure down memory lane. Reynolds is by far the film’s main attraction, channeling an effectively wry melancholy in increasingly emotive sequences, plus he also gets to confront his younger selves through wizardry of digital insertion into archival footage aboard a boat in Deliverance and passenger-side with “The Bandit.” Winter’s off-kilter acting improves as the film progresses; the same cannot be said about other supporting cast members Clark Duke, Ellar Coltrane or Chevy Chase. Any movie with a Cheerwine bottle as a plot device can’t be all bad, and it’s Reynolds himself who’s bringing forth the fizzy vintage. Rifkin is clearly out of his depth and stumbles intermittently with attempts at broad humor and overreaching melodrama, but his leading man delivers a third act rally. The stuntman turned journeyman actor earns additional credibility and respect in a “life mirrors art” Hollywood ending.
Alas sometimes these super sequel troopers leave you feeling like a number two. Ol Parker’s Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again (C+) has a lot working against it: soundtrack of ABBA B-sides as opposed to the first film’s greatest hits, a largely missing Meryl Streep (whose credibility helped elevate the preceding film to its guilty pleasure status) and the lack of the musical whodunit propelling the original’s narrative. Still, many of the songs soar with giddy delight (“Waterloo,” “Angel Eyes and “I’ve Been Waiting for You” are favorites), and it’s fun to see the assorted cast of characters cavorting on a lovely Greek Island once more. Lacking a consistent or cogent new plot, Parker goes full Godfather II with flashbacks to Streep’s younger self lovingly played by Lily James. She’s good, but neither she nor present-day Amanda Seyfried can quite heed the script’s S.O.S. It’s all rather obligatory but watchable, and both a spry director and a game ensemble give their all with the paltry lot they’ve got. Thank you for the music; no thank you for the cash grab.
I suppose you can’t make too much of a Marvel-ous mountain out of an ant hill. Peyton Reed’s Ant-Man and the Wasp (C) is an exercise in low-stakes water treading, with a few clever miniaturization sight gags and funny throwaway jokes from Paul Rudd and Michael Peña to punctuate the perfunctory proceedings. Michael Douglas and Evangeline Lilly are a bore as the father-daughter scientist team in what becomes a primary subplot. Reed aims for casual cool with a protagonist who’s not particularly smart or engaged, and the director’s resultant product is a pretty disposable entry into this universe of superheroes. Average effects, villains and action sequences seal the fate of a film that peaks after the fanfare opening with some nifty ways the hero is filling time during house arrest. Any of them would have made more interesting activities than sitting through this ho-hum film.
Oakland is woke-land for a duo of friends looking to flip the script on clean living and justice in Carlos López Estrada’s Blindspotting (A-). Daveed Diggs of Hamilton and Rafael Casal parlay rap, poetry and spoken word into a creative indie about two blue collar bros trapped in conflicting narratives after a late-night shooting. The humor is sweet and the drama sobering as the co-stars (also co-writers) address race, identity and gentrification in a brisk and frisky production. The film’s frantic pace, bubblegum colors and lyrical landscapes lure viewers into an eccentric and exquisite singular urban atmosphere. Diggs is superb and rises to the challenge of one iconic sequence in particular that truly tests the charismatic chops he showcased on NYC stages. Casal channels a young De Niro as his fierce foil, balancing rage and tenderness in grand doses. Wonderful actresses Janina Gavankar and Jasmine Cephas-Jones are highlights in the supporting cast, balancing all the testosterone in some clever conversations. A split second or two that are too on-the-nose, including split screens, threaten to make some of the motifs a bit too obvious; but overall, it’s a stunner. Come for the buddy comedy, and stay for the message. Despite the timely topics and hefty themes, it’s optimistic and will become a talked-about touchstone.
A hit at Sundance, the film was the opening night presentation at the Atlanta Film Festival. It premiered everywhere July 20, 2018 and is now available for purchase or rental.
As both writer and director of Incredibles 2 (A), Brad Bird’s mastery of the animated form is on display in delirious grandeur. Far surpassing his original film in wit, creativity and subtext, the auteur has delivered one of the most engaging films of the year. The retro comic book style provides a delightful backdrop for adventure and comedy, with an onslaught of fun flourishes appearing like cinematic confections from whiz!bam!pow! frame to frame. It’s a message movie in superhero disguise, of course, with much to say about gender and workplace, societal obsession with technological screens and protecting equal rights of individuals with unconventional origins. And the sequences with the super-baby discovering his new powers are comic gold. The film is fun from start to finish and showcase’s the filmmaker’s maturity and evolution. Hollywood will be hard-pressed to showcase a more satisfying sequel blockbuster this year.
Ari Aster’s suspense drama Hereditary (B+) is a stunner, upending many expectations of typical horror movies for something even more raw: delving into the experience of losing loved ones, exploring compartmentalization of pain and unearthing abnormalities lurking in one’s family tree. The film deserves comparisons with The Shining and The Exorcist and showcases a master performance by Toni Collette as the troubled mother of two (Milly Shapiro and Alex Wolff, really effective). Gabriel Byrne is ho-hum as the family dad (someone needed to be the straight man, I suppose), and Ann Dowd is superb as a neighbor in grief. The film is a slow-burn downer of the first order but splendidly cinematic, and it builds to quite a crescendo. The production values, from art direction to music, build a brooding mood. The film relies heavily on Collette to sell some far-fetched sequences of spiritualism and to take her character way out on a limb. She delivers in spades. From the first moments set in miniature dollhouses to an epic denouement, the film gets bigger in its ambitions. Fans of the original Friday the 13th may even find echoes in its origin story. This is recommended for aficionados of great drama, and I hope horror fans will like it too.
A profile in courage, consistency and living life with purpose and passion, Betsy West and Julie Cohen’s documentary about Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, RBG (A-), is a stand-up-and-cheer portrait of an unlikely cultural hero. Diminutive and soft-spoken, she is hardly the most obvious person to have captured the cultural zeitgeist or to be the subject of a full-length cinematic treatment, but Ginsburg’s story sneaks up on you like the cadence of pioneering gender equality law cases she argued in a rich history in front of and behind the bench. The filmmakers do an expert job showcasing the sequences of legal cases that mark milestones in RBG’s legacy as well as her recent history of provocative and pointed dissent. We also get to witness intimate family portraits with her beloved fellow lawyer late husband, with grandkids and young people and immersed in her hobby of attending spectacular opera. The film also shows the joy of an unlikely friendship with conservative firebrand Antonin Scalia; if those two could get along, nearly anyone can find common ground. The film relies occasionally on very scarce archival footage and suffers sometimes from lack of access to the moments we may want to witness most (alas, no cameras in room for the big cases). But its fondness for its subject and its illumination of her life and times indeed reign supreme.
It’s the ‘70s punk rock era Britain-set coming of age Kama Sutra alien infiltration cult curiosity you didn’t know you were looking for. The always imaginative auteur and champion of underground subcultures John Cameron Mitchell’s latest film merits a B rating. The movie has a video store friendly title, How to Talk to Girls at Parties, but that’s where the mainstream elements end. Alex Sharp, a spitting image of young Bob Geldof, is charming as a music scene denizen whose friends stumble upon a house party and an intriguing young woman, played convincingly and enjoyably by Elle Fanning, who may not be of this earth. The rules of her tribe provide a few complications for a burgeoning romance, but Mitchell’s electric kool-aid picture show plays by few expected rules in chronicling the young couple’s brief time together. This kaleidoscopic escapade is overstuffed with ideas; it’s telling when Nicole Kidman in a guise akin to Bowie’s Goblin King is one of the least strange things afoot. There’s a crazy cool music number, some of the strangest sexual goings-on this side of Planet Transylvania or Mitchell’s own Shortbus and some provocative but only lightly explored themes about what generations appropriate from each other to create a fresh scene. The film runs out of steampunk towards the end and doesn’t stack up as one of the director’s best. The romance is only ok, but the vibe is bonkers. Recalling the great philosopher who once said even bad pizza is still pretty good, it’s nice to have this new if wildly uneven work to enjoy. This new wonder from Mitchell will undoubtedly scratch an angsty itch and become a cult find for a certain adventurous crowd. Oi!
It’s all shiplap and survival in Baltasar Kormákur’s romantic drama Adrift (C), but despite the game efforts of a spry Shailene Woodley and a fetching Sam Claflin in central performances, this castaway escapade doesn’t have anywhere to go. Mostly set aboard a damaged ship on the Pacific, the film cross-crosses between a central dramatic endurance challenge and flashbacks to the burgeoning love affair that took wind before everything gets swept into disaster. The real-life characters are underwritten and the filming pedestrian, sputtering with narrative navigation and propulsion issues. It’s not clear how the movie treads any new waters; but for fans of the indomitable sea and its rejuvenating spirit even in the face of adversity, this story has a few nice moments that surge out of the ordinary.
More than a salvage effort from a troubled production and much more entertaining than many will expect, Ron Howard’s Solo: A Star Wars Story (B+) is a breezy space western with enjoyable characters and adventures. The good news is that Alden Ehrenreich steps charismatically into the shoes of famed space smuggler Han Solo embroiled in some of his pivotal early adventures. The origins of his friendship with Chewbacca, an inside look into his and Lando’s (a blissful Donald Glover) gamesmanship over possession of the Millennium Falcon and even the notorious Kessel Run are some highlights. There are some surprising ties to other films in the saga plus some unexpected twists and turns that give this origin story a jolt or two. Practical action set pieces, a mysterious romance and dollops of droll humor make this a fun summer movie for hardcore fans and newcomers alike.
The novelty is gone but the jokes spring eternal in David Leitch’s sarcastic superhero sequel Deadpool 2 (B-). Ryan Reynolds is again charismatic but keeps company with some pretty average associates in this low-stakes installment. Encounters with some characters in the X-Men and X-Force orbit and stories about time travel, paternal instincts and doing hard time all mutate in a plot both threadbare and overstuffed. It’s vulgar, fun and watchable but a pale follow-up to its predecessor. The comedy is better than the action, and the whole meta enterprise was better the first time around. See if for the in-jokes and knowing nods to sequel-dom.
A witty, bittersweet dramedy about the coping mechanisms a third-time mom uses to reconnect with her best self when her rich brother underwrites a “nighttime nanny” for her, Jason Reitman’s Tully (A) is a master class in characterization, with star Charlize Theron and writer Diablo Cody delivering at the top of their games. Opposite an equally mesmerizing Mackenzie Davis as the new partner in parenting, Theron gives a gloriously lived-in depiction of motherhood full of acerbic humor and grim pathos. The film defies conventions in a variety of ways and will become a much talked-about entry into this exciting director’s canon, even as some of its best spoilers will give viewers reason to see it early. Reitman does gorgeous work showcasing headstrong characters, and this one is no exception. He also chooses just the right music to underscore his plucky and poignant sequences. Empowering and unexpected, this sleeper indie should be on any film fan’s watch list.
Note: This film was screened at the Atlanta Film Festival and was released wide theatrically in May 2018.