As a Movie, “Maria” Doesn’t Sing

The least interesting thing about famed opera singer Maria Callis is finding her usually wondrous soprano voice cracking and croaking during her final days living in 1970s Paris, and yet that’s exactly what Pablo Larrain chooses to dramatize in his impressionistic biography Maria (C). Angelina Jolie plays the Greek diva-as-artist as the film chronicles the temperamental behavior of her late career and flashes back to her tepid love affair with Aristotle Onassis, played charisma-free by Haluk Bilginer. Just like an opera, this psychological drama is structured in acts and culminates in tragedy. Larrain photographs the stately Jolie like she’s fresh out of a spring magazine shoot, but the glum persona she embodies is far from inspiring, despite her devotion to the role. And the lip syncing, even with multi-track blending, just doesn’t do the trick. Few actors in the ensemble including Kodi Smit-McPhee as a journalist make much of an impression, leaving Jolie in various poses within baroque rooms to sleep or stand and model. The third in Larrain’s film trilogy of important 20th century women in levels of distress (following Jackie and Spencer), this one is a considerable let-down, mainly mired in pathos with only a few arch lines to stir the soul.

“Heretic” a Clever Cat and Mouse Game

Hugh Grant plays against type as a creepy arbiter of a horrific escape room where he mansplains to two female Mormon missionaries the limits of faith in Bryan Woods and Scott Beck’s Heretic (B-). It’s a strange little movie, ostensibly in the horror genre but often so talky and obtuse that it might as well be a three-hander play. Chloe East and Sophie Thatcher are superb and highly believable as their characters negotiate with the man who may be their captor. They make realistic moves and are whip smart against a crafty antagonist. As “Mr. Reed,” Grant leverages his romcom charm to diabolical effect; his character may be a bit more cultured than boogeymen in Halloween or hockey masks, but he’s just as intense. The film is an exploration of the lore and belief systems of religion, powered by a smart premise and solid acting, and makes for an intriguing watch. But those expecting wall-to-wall thrills will likely find themselves underwhelmed.

“Gladiator II” a Strong Companion Piece to Oscar-Winning Original

The palace intrigue and visual effects both get mighty upgrades — albeit with fewer iconic declarations of dialogue — as Ridley Scott returns to the ring for a highly enjoyable Gladiator II (B+). While many of the story beats represent a retread of the Best Picture winning 2000 original film, Paul Mescal steps comfortably into the sandals of the protagonist role and draws viewers in as his character watches Roman emperors (Pedro Pascal among the leaders) conquer his homeland before he endeavors to return a legendary land to glory. As an empire-adjacent antagonist, Denzel Washington is also a highlight as a complex power broker with constant surprises around every turn. His scenery chewing rivals Joaquin Phoenix from the first film. The sequel’s action set pieces including a clash of warriors on ships within a coliseum are stunning. After one questionable sequence involving fake CGI monkeys early on, the film’s visual effects are roundly glorious. There’s a lingering feeling of wanting just a little more emotionally from this film, but it’s hard to argue with the brutal bacchanal of pulpy violence and vengeance on display here. Overall the film is a marvelous and rousing adventure.

Iran-Set “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” Interrogates Power and Protest

Political conflict within a family sets the stage for rage as an Iranian wife and her two modern daughters rebel against the husband and father promoted to a role as prosecutor for the government and whose gun is missing from within their home. It’s a crackerjack premise surrounding a charged object and a movie stylishly made and well acted, interspersing fictional narrative with real 2022-2023 cellphone footage of horrors against dissidents in Tehran’s revolutionary streets. In fact, writer/director Mohammed Rasoulof’s engaging Persian language family parable The Seed of the Sacred Fig (B+) is a work born of such urgency, it was created in secrecy and smuggled out of Iran to be released in Germany and around the world. The very existence of the film is a stunning work of protest; and at a near-three hour run time, it has a resonant and lived-in quality with a slow-simmering first act setting the stage for a shape-shifting battle as the conflict evolves. Rasoulof wisely shows how the teenage girls (especially the vocal Mahsa Rostami but also the expressionate Setareh Maleki) first become distrustful of government via the testimony of friends and evidence on social media just as the paranoid father (stoic Missagh Zareh in a rather thankless role) finds himself increasingly ensconced as an apologist for a brutal regime. Soheila Golestani is superb as the mom trying desperately and deliberately to maintain Intrafamilial peace in this tinderbox of a domestic drama. The talky opening reel is punctuated by a sequence of profound power as a young woman’s face uncovered by hijab undergoes cursory healing from a spray of bullets fired upon her in the name of religion. Soon dialogue boils to more conventional action underscoring the blistering broadside against the Iranian regime with varying levels of authenticity. It’s a searing portrait of straining relationships as society destabilizes against the backdrop of unrest, an effective glimpse at courage against oppressive rule and overall an insightful film worth finding.

“Here” It Isn’t

There’s probably a brilliant movie to be lensed using a stationary camera affixed on one single room of a house and chronicling what happens in that space on earth from prehistoric to pandemic times. Director/co-writer Robert Zemeckis hasn’t landed on the brilliant part of his cinematic science project. His Here (D+) is a filmed carousel of progress with some occasionally lovely compositions but an absolutely inert set of artificial storylines. It has the effect of an old vacation slide show presented by your most cringe-worthy relative. The nostalgic object lessons, told out of order in a taxonomy of themes, include vignettes of Native American rituals, Benjamin Franklin’s relatives, a crackpot inventor, a greatest generation couple, boomers delighting and struggling with modern family life (Tom Hanks and Robin Wright in various dreadful levels of de-aging effects) and the African-American family of the here and now. The only surprises along the journey are the effective use of pictures-in-picture delineated by rule lines, a late-breaking mirror effect and clever dissolves. Sometimes windows gracefully overlapping with the wilderness of bygone times or a novel show running on the family TV provide a welcome distraction from the human doldrums. The punishing pageant of various still lives accompanied by soaring Alan Silvestri music are comprised of such basic tropes that any moments of genuine drama are robbed of their gravitas. Latter stage Zemeckis films have been preoccupied with visual effects to the detriment of story, and this particular film finds little focus except for that omniscient camera in the same damn place the whole time. The film manages to be maddening and melodramatic when it was meant to be meaningful.

“Emilia Pérez” is Audacious Art for Adventurous Moviegoers

French filmmakers prove more artfully attuned to both the transgender experience and crime in the Mexican milieu than the product of billions of dollars of American political ad spending in a bold and brilliant subtitled melodrama paced, plotted and performed with the zest and scope of an opera. On the surface, Jacques Audiard’s Emilia Perez (A-) qualifies as a musical with piquant original songs contributed by Camille, a rousing original score by Clement Ducol and tight, cagey choreography by Damien Jalet, but the tone poem aesthetic echoes a fascinating central character study and crime adventure. The plot centers on a Mexican lawyer (a never better Zoe Saldana), who helps a vicious crime lord fake his own death and transition to life as the female title character (a fascinating Karla Sofia Gascon). A delightfully unhinged Selena Gomez portrays the widow who, several years later, believes Emilia is aunt rather than father to her two children. Meanwhile Perez embarks on a crusade to shed light on the disappearing victims of the country’s cartels. Audiard’s audacious work as writer/director, backed by Paul Guilhaume’s stunning cinematography and Juliette Welfling’s deft editing, creatively chronicles the journey of the story’s trio of remarkable women. Saldana and Gascon in particular are riveting and empathetic in authentic pursuit of their lives’ calling, and Gomez sneaks up in the final reel with some genuine scene-stealing too. Anthony Vaccarello of fashion house Yves Saint Laurent designed costumes for the film, impeccable in all manners of craft. This import is distributed by Netflix, but be advised it is best enjoyed without distraction on the epic canvas of a big screen.

Papal Procedural “Conclave” is Surprisingly Tense and Timely

The behind-closed-doors election of a new pope plays out like a whodunit in Edward Berger’s superb drama Conclave (A-). Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), tasked with facilitating this secretive and ancient event and surrounded by powerful religious leaders from around the world in the halls of the Vatican, uncovers a series of deep secrets that could threaten the very foundation of the Roman Catholic Church. Stanley Tucci plays one of the most progressive papal candidates and Sergio Castellitto one of his most conservative rivals in a well curated ensemble of wonderful actors. Fiennes carries much of the weight of the dramatic narrative on his shoulders and is quite impressive in the lead role. Berger stages the story in orderly and disciplined fashion, allowing twists to naturally reveal themselves. He explores the nuances of human judgment without resorting to sensationalism or sentiment; it’s an intriguing story well told. This film is likely to have significant continued resonance with motivations and messages sure to ring true any time new power structures are sorting themselves out.

Dark Romcom “Anora” Starts and Ends Strong But Lags When It Counts

In the noble pursuit of elevating the dignity of workers in an often dehumanized profession, a talented writer/editor/director often loses his way in creating a captivating narrative. Sean Baker’s Anora (C+) starts and ends strong, beginning with you-are-there bravado in a NYC nightclub where we meet exotic dancer Anora “Ani” Mikheeva played by Mikey Madison and watch her hold court over a VIP backroom where she meets man-child Ivan “Vanya” Zakharov (Mark Eydelshteyn), frivolous son of a Russian oligarch who strikes a bargain with the private dancer to spend time with her outside of the club. But this is a fractured fable take on the “stripper with a heart of gold” trope: Ani certainly buys into aspects of the fantasy – Brighton Beach mansion, designer drugs, bountiful bling and more – while being fiercely defiant of forces encroaching on her newfound relationship. Much of the film focuses on existential threats swooping in to split up the central duo, and these series of episodes are increasingly tedious and unrewarding. Despite often strong acting by Madison, her title character actually wears out her welcome and becomes shrill in the subplots. Karren Katagulian gets a thankless role as an Orthodox priest and Vanya’s godfather charged with protecting him from his own impulses. Yura Borisov gets a few good moments as a seemingly sympathetic Russian henchman. The film’s pursuit of truth in storytelling is often swapped for jaunty jet-setting and messy mayhem, even if Baker largely sticks the landing.

Kieran Culkin is “A Real Pain” in Buddy Dramedy

A Real Pain movie

There’s almost always that one person on a foreign travel excursion known for perpetually making the whole group late, constantly questioning the order of things and generally eclipsing the far-flung location with sheer force of personality. Kieran Culkin marvelously portrays such A Real Pain (B+) as one half of odd couple cousins abroad, opposite Jesse Eisenberg, who also wrote and directed the film. The gents’ mutual destination is Poland, where they trace Jewish family roots and trade barbs in an unlikely comedy set amidst a terrain of trauma. Culkin is a fabulous scene-stealer, full of bluster and usually brandishing a blunt, and Eisenberg holds his own as the uptight nebbish admiring and abhorring him in equal measure. In minor roles backing up this two-hander travelogue, Will Sharpe is solid as the group’s tour guide, and Jennifer Grey is delightful if a bit underused as an intriguing fellow traveler. In his mode as filmmaker, Eisenberg exerts incredible discipline telling the story of mismatched men on a mission while chronicling a concurrent commentary about the wry observations of traveling to painful places. Despite the novelty of most of the dramatic interactions, there is still an aching notion the film could have plumbed even deeper themes. In this artful production, subtle sentiment and amusing interactions go with the territory.

“Smile 2” a Dizzying Descent into Pop Star Madness

In a season of crazy conspiracies, extended delirious dancing and popular public figures melting under spotlights and scrutiny (describing not just the current political race but recent plots of Trap and The Substance), Parker Finn’s Smile 2 (B-) mostly delivers on its gonzo premise: that life as a global music icon is akin to enduring a perpetual horror movie. All eyes are on expressive actress Naomi Scott whose central pop princess character embodies all the requisite tropes: a raving fanbase, a beloved songbook, rumors, scandal, addiction, exhaustion and the company of a questionable squad from before the fame era. Finn as writer/director poses the question: What if those crazed demonic grinning faces popularized in his surprise 2022 hit film were just par for the world tour? In the age of the trauma narrative, why can’t the final girl victim simply be tortured for most of the film’s running time? And stage moms, crazed fans, paparazzi, even product placements are all the glaring, encroaching objets de terreur. It’s all overwhelming enough to make a mere mortal feel more comfortably numb than Pink Floyd in a hotel room adorned with lots of glass coffee tables. Revisiting this franchise’s formula meant re-imagining it, and Finn’s candid camera captures an ornate and jump scare filled glam paradise. After an awesome cold open set far from the neon lights, the film’s biggest surprise is there frankly aren’t many. With full “who’s afraid of little old me” gusto, Naomi Scott magnificently chews the scenery of life on the wicked stage and conjures myriad ways to generate poses of sheer fright. Scott bears the film’s repetitive burden on her shoulders and makes it all look good in lavish costumes and with pretty authentic songs. Only some of it is actually scary. It’s all highly watchable but could have used judicious edits to be a bit more, well, swift. Still, in a world of recent auteurs adding song and dance to supercharge their fever dream sequels, Finn hits most of his marks.

Pharrell Williams Deconstructed with Legos in Inventive “Piece by Piece”

Ah, to be young, gifted, Black and a Lego! Director Morgan Neville’s remarkable stop-motion animated documentary Piece by Piece (B) chronicles the life and career of contemporary musician Pharrell Williams through the kaleidoscopic lens of swirling brick building blocks, with many African-American mini-figurines and whimsical instruments developed specifically for the movie. A singular display of synesthesia as the young trucker hat clad creator imagines beats and compositions coming to life in vivid colors and shapes, the story transports viewers from Virginia Beach garage band grassroots of our hero’s bands The Neptunes and N.E.R.D. to his heights of hit-making for the likes of Gwen Stefani, Kendrick Lamar, Justin Timberlake, Busta Rhymes, Jay-Z, Britney Spears, Snoop Dogg and more, not to mention his own iconic anthem “Happy.” The voice cast is stacked. In this unconventional autobiography, Williams is frontin’ faith, falsetto, future centricity and ferocity of imagination while conjuring soundscapes as both performer and producer. The subject finds himself carried away and getting comeuppance, enjoying jokey interludes and participating in solemn episodes of protest and unrest. Undoubtedly the adventurous animation brings the mystical melody and milkshake to the fanboys and girls in the yard, but the film  too often skims the plastic surface, glossing over serious moments with mayhem and montage; and Pharrell’s five ho-hum original songs don’t add much to his already catchy catalogue. In terms of its visual palette, however, the movie is a Lego liquid rush of dreamers and drumlines, of freestylin’ and freewheeling creativity, transporting viewers to churches and cookouts, to studios and open seas, like a soulful Saint-Exupery expedition. The Lego aesthetic veers into a variety of textures: mock archival footage, behind the scenes segments, even rap videos and international travelogues with subtitles. The filmmakers’ purity of spirit and uplift and the sheer gorgeousness of the movie’s craft possess the artisan majesty of a picture book brought to life. The movie’s manner and style belie its subject’s seriousness; some will be tempted to drop it like it’s not for them. But this clever deconstruction of both a modern genius and the documentary form showcasing his life and times is undoubtedly Leg-it: a bountiful brick and block party capable of inspiring the next wunderkind of humble origins to dream big.

“Will & Harper” a Road Trip to Self-Discovery and Friendship

Trying out different environments for size, two longtime buddies contemplate changes afoot in their lives while embarking on a revelatory journey. Josh Greenbaum’s meditative documentary Will & Harper (A) traces a 17-day westbound road trip across America via station wagon with friends comic actor Will Ferrell and Harper Steele, a 61-year-old comic writer transitioning from male to female. Thoughtful questions, thorny run-ins, poignant discussions and witty encounters mark this life-affirming chronicle as Harper tells her goofy pal no question is off limits. Scored to a jukebox of great needle drops by the likes of Simon & Garfunkel and Bon Iver with some “Wagon Wheel” and “Luck Be a Lady” tossed in for good measure, the film contemplates the notion of living lonely versus living authentically out in the world. Joyful adventures abound, ranging from riding hot air balloons over Albuquerque to standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon and the Mighty Mississippi. Acceptance comes in unexpected biker bars, just as a restaurant stopover results in a cascade of mean tweets. Ferrell, known for doing whatever it takes for comedy, tones it down to put his friend on a pedestal (several moments overwhelm him) and assembles some of their well-known Saturday Night Live collaborators for some bright cameos. The movie makes an important statement about friendship and acceptance without ever being preachy or treacly. It’s a beauty of a film.