Usually the mere thought of a new entry into the mockumentary series pioneered by writer/director Christopher Guest brings a sly smile to the face. Alas the funny auteur’s Mascots (D+), a direct-to-Netflix take on furries who get fans in a frenzy, doesn’t get animated nearly enough. Perhaps after exploring theatre, dog shows, movie awards and folk music, the format is getting stale. The overall ensemble lacks energy, and the story has a paucity of punch. The lack of central protagonists or and major plot momentum lead to a ho-hum competition devoid of drama. Jane Lynch and Ed Begley Jr. get some of the best moments; but like all the others, their character arches aren’t sustained. Favorites Parker Posey and Jennifer Coolidge are wasted. Guest even uncorks his own cherished on-screen character from Waiting for Guffman and doesn’t give him anything to do. Most of the actors are simply lucky their faces are covered for much of the film’s duration.
Jesse Plemons and Molly Shannon might not be anyone’s first casting choices as a gay comedy writer and his dying mom, respectively; but boy are they a moving and marvelous duo in Chris Kelly’s alternately hilarious and heartbreaking melodrama Other People (B+). Plemons, masterfully playing a sad sack hybrid of Matt Damon and Philip Seymour Hoffman, anchors the film as a young man having a very bad year, unlucky in love and work and summoned home from NYC to Sacramento to care for his ailing mom. Molly Shannon is a force of nature as an idiosyncratic and intuitive mother fighting an aggressive bout with cancer. The film’s structure is basically a year in the life, but it colors outside the lines in splendid and droll ways. Like Terms of Endearment and other classic tearjerkers, the ache is earned. Folks will appreciate Bradley Whitford as the stoic father and June Squibb and Paul Dooley as eccentric grandparents. A smart script and surprising characters make this an offbeat indie worth watching.
It’s an inspired idea indeed to have celebrated actress Meryl Streep perform in a most meta Emperor’s New Clothes style homage as an infamous no-talent. But as the titular character, a songstress oblivious of her pronounced vocal limitations, in Stephen Frears’s 1944-set biopic Florence Foster Jenkins (B), Streep’s seriocomic riffs are often on the mark even while the notes are all over the map. It is clear Frears finds his mercurial Manhattanite subject endlessly fascinating; and like Ed Wood, Bullets Over Broadway, Grey Gardens or The Producers, he finds fits of dry wit amidst the Schadenfreude. Hugh Grant as Florence’s conflicted husband is serviceable and occasionally sentimental, despite the actor’s limited range. Simon Helberg is a bit of a misfire as the songbird’s pianist, registering on the nebbish scale somewhere between Alan Cumming and Jason Schwartzman but with little of the charm. Nina Arianda is funny as a gangster moll type but is given strange motivations during a critical sequence. At the film’s heart is Streep herself, demonstrating with droll doses of heart and high-note heinousness that throwing yourself into an artistic passion with gusto, even when all the pieces aren’t altogether effective, can still be somewhat satisfying.
At this point watching Woody Allen’s late-career films is a mild act of punishment, and the auteur’s latest Café Society (D+) is a pretty package of nothing. It’s got all the elements of a Woody Allen but no pulse. Set in the Golden Age of Hollywood and Manhattan, the film wins points for art direction and costumes; but alas it’s all dressed up for going nowhere slowly. Jesse Eisenberg is a remarkably dull leading man who falls in love with two women named Veronica – one in L.A. at the start of his career and one in his native New York where he returns to run a nightclub. The two ladies are played by the better-than-expected Kristen Stewart and the pleasant but bland Blake Lively. Allen fails to build any sustained momentum for some mild subplots about love and infidelity and has very little new to say about his go-to subjects. Moreover, there’s precious little to care about about the protagonist’s would-be career either. Steve Carell barely registers as a glib movie mogul, although perhaps he’s as bored as the man behind the camera seems to be. The only surprise in the whole movie is that, despite the delight that it’s actually over, Allen also delivers an unsatisfying ending. When you’re left pining for that Woody Allen film starring Jason Biggs, you know you’ve hit pretty close to rock bottom.
Despite being loosely based on a tale told better more than three decades ago, Paul Feig’s Ghostbusters: Answer the Call (B-) doesn’t necessarily lack for ideas. In fact, this all-female makeover of the let’s-capture-ghosts-run-amok-in-Manhattan story is a whirling dervish of special effects and fun gadgetry evoking a mash-up of a haunted Disney dark ride, Q’s invention laboratory and a whack-a-mole carnival gone mad with technicolor Pokemon-style gymnastics. As summer escapist fare, it’s a loud and overstuffed adventure with primary charms provided by Kate McKinnon who, armed with an occasional quip or queef for comic relief, is a welcome Willy Wonka type character entry into the franchise’s pantheon. It’s a bit like she’s working in another dimension from the other collaborators. The film’s biggest disappointments include squandering the talents of Kristen Wiig and Melissa McCarthy with rather bland roles, relying too heavily on throwback cameos that distract from forward momentum and unspooling lame and labored origin story elements. Once the action gets underway, however, the frantic pace glosses over many of the sins of the so-so screenplay. Leslie Jones and Chris Hemsworth are solid in supporting roles, and New York itself – in both a modern and retro dual universe – provides a pleasurable playground of practical effects for spectral warfare. The film rarely crosses the expected streams into the suck, and it’s still a rush to watch a ghost get boxed. This movie is strictly for your inner 13 year old, and the mostly fulfilled “girl power” promised by this reimagining gives enough reason to not give up the ghost.
A genre hopping film about being lost in the wilderness and summoning the courage that only a best friend can help you achieve, Daniel Scheinert and Daniel Kwan’s Sundance discovery Swiss Army Man (A-) is the year’s cinematic curiosity as well as a mild revelation. Paul Dano turns in a superb performance as a young man seemingly stranded on an island until he is joined by a one-of-a-kind companion played by Daniel Radcliffe, who brings with him an unexpected sense of magic and utility. A dramedy filled from beginning to end with flights of fantasy and a dreamlike approach to storytelling, the film’s furtive lessons will reward adventurous moviegoers. Prepare to be startled and astonished in equal doses in this rather wondrous parable. The lively and affecting a capella score by Manchester Orchestra is nearly a character as well. Too much description of what goes on would be reductive; but suffice it to say you’ve seen nothing like it, and its filmmaking craft is nothing short of life affirming.
For a film about a foursome of millennials behaving badly, Jake Szymanski’s comedy Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates (B) gets high marks for laughs and even a heartfelt moment or two. Zac Efron and Adam DeVine play troublemaking brothers known for making other peoples’ weddings all about themselves with their stag antics. Their attempt to reform by bringing sensible dates to their sister’s Hawaii nuptials leads them to partner with Anna Kendrick and Aubrey Plaza, who prove to be an even more devious duo than the dudes. It’s a hoot to see Kendrick play against type, and all four lead comic actors hold their own with fast-paced lines and pratfalls. At times both profane and poignant, the film is often too much of a good thing. It’s sometimes tough to follow the film’s moral compass as it’s progressive in a few ways and a bit backwards in some others. The physical comedy is pretty hysterical throughout, and it gets its share of signature gross-out moments. A summer lark packed with pleasures, it’s a successful descendent to funny fare such as Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Romy & Michele’s High School Reunion and Wedding Crashers.
Andrew Stanton’s animated aquatic sequel Finding Dory (B-) succeeds as a message movie about inclusion of characters with disabilities – showcasing a fish with short-term memory loss overcoming the odds – but stumbles in terms of its only mildly engaging protagonist, its flagging adherence to its own intrinsic logic and the lack of originality of its storyline. The film strives to deepen the Finding Nemo saga with Godfather II style flashbacks to back story while Dory searches for her parents but ends up closer to Evan Almighty territory with a minor character inexplicably nudged to the forefront. Despite noted objections, there are still imaginative touches involving the intricacies of a marine life refuge and an amputee octopus with clever camouflaging effects. We know we’re working in a talking animal universe, but there’s a jump-the-shark moment that might be termed invertebrate on the interstate or the mollusk motorcade and simply gets sloppy. Nemo and his dad are rendered rather ineffectual sidekicks while Ellen DeGeneres does what she can to squeeze out the waterworks of the film’s few poignant moments. The first film felt effortlessly entertaining, and this one more of a chore.
Balancing the enjoyable and the implausible, Shane Black’s The Nice Guys (B) is essentially a cartoon-like series of pratfalls and stunts, buoyed by Ryan Gosling’s funny, lived-in performance as a bumbling 1970’s L.A. private eye. The scruffy script and amusing set-ups in a sleazy stew of pleasant period detail are often quite entertaining, and many of the action sequences deliver the goods; but the film about mismatched mates on a case is built on a threadbare and generally preposterous plot line that doesn’t amount to much. Although Russell Crowe is billed as the “straight man” half of the central buddy comedy team, he rarely resonates. With all the strut and swagger on display, it’s instead Angourie Rice as Gosling’s character’s daughter who shines in her role and pulls off some of the shrewdest private dickery. Kim Basinger and Matt Bomer are wasted in throwaway roles. The filmmakers can’t decide if it’s supposed to be a straight-up thriller or a comedic counterpoint to noirish capers; either way the ambitions don’t much match the onscreen daring-do. The menace is minuscule, and the scope is silly. It falls together a little too easily.
The “some” of all things that Richard Linklater’s Everybody Wants Some!! (A) purports all people desire is becoming part of a loving and supportive community. Not really a spoiler if you admire this writer/director like I do! For the Texas student athletes hazing each other in the random days before university classes start, you’d never guess that this oft-imbibing tribe is an enduring community; but leave it to Linklater to capture a note-perfect ode to love and friendship. Blake Jenner is superb as the wide-eyed protagonist freshman, always equipped with a quip and the grip of an all-star baseball pitcher’s outstretched arm of gratitude. Glen Powell is a standout among a perfectly cast cavalcade of jocks as the wise, witty and literate ring-leader. And Zoey Deutsch scores one for the ladies’ team as a compelling theatre major love interest and perfect foil for all the frat-tactic acting out. Linklater’s fluid, episodic and unforced structure is just dandy for the lazy last days of summer as the college kids put on their different hats and try out different roles, quite literally in the dance clubs, country watering holes, house parties and dugout. The characters are sharp and funny and just vulgar enough to still be charming; and the through-line of tender acceptance and blossoming connections is a delight. The nostalgic ’80s vibe is perfectly evoked and the dreadful bro-couture consistently hilarious. Oneupmanship as the ultimate bond of brotherhood is carried out in sequences involving bongs, ping pongs and ’80s songs, often to revealing effect. The film is being billed as a spiritual sequel to Dazed and Confused, but it is really a continuation of the art of new love explored in the Before trilogy, the coming of age encountered in Boyhood and the rag-tag ensemble shenanigans of School of Rock. It’s a lark with lots of heart, and that’s quite an art.
There’s a fine line between a hot flash and a hot mess, and Sally Field plays nearly every facet of an amazing woman coming into her own late in life as the title character of Michael Showalter’s Hello, My Name is Doris (B+). Although some sequences and snippets of the screenplay veer into overly broad comedy (it’s no accident that Field’s supporting cast includes talented sitcom stars Max Greenfield, Wendy McLendon-Covey and Beth Behrs), the pulsing heart of the film is the protagonist’s journey of self-acceptance and renewal. After the death of the mother she cared for most of her adult life, Field’s awkward ad agency accountant becomes romantically fixated with Greenfield’s charming millennial creative director who has given her some suspicious side-glances. We are in delight watching Doris grow giddy as a schoolgirl; and while we root for her, we also ponder how to solve a problem like this sheltered high-flying “nun”-derkind breaking free of her self-imposed convent and getting her groove back. Showalter finds fun and pathos in the generational juxtaposition: everything old is cool again, from knitting clubs to artisan cocktails to day-glow vintage fashions. The film is every bit a commentary on ageism as it is a good-natured ribbing of hipster culture. Tyne Daly is a highlight in the best friend role of this unconventional romcom, and it’s nifty to see women in their sixties bond and bicker with the best of ’em. Grace notes include awkward set-ups and awakenings, a spirited soundtrack and an empathy for Doris even when we’re cringing at some of her most ill-advised antics. Field is really the reason it all works, and she brings out her best in playing the truth of her character while leveraging the subversiveness of her comedic chops. Equally resonant to all who are young at heart, this Hello is welcome.
