This biographical baseball film has three strikes against it: its acting roster is somewhat inconsistent, it fouls up some of its central notions about the limits of faith and it slides in too many familiar sports movie tropes – but even so, it’s largely a rousing run around the bases of feel-good sentiment. An earnest true-life story of a little-known sports miracle, Jeff Celentano’s The Hill (B-) is equal parts formulaic and inspirational. The central slugger who overcomes a handicap in order to try out for a chance at the big leagues is a real guy from history named Rickey Hill. He’s played effectively as a plucky child by the very talented Jesse Berry and as a twentysomething by Colin Ford, who is likable but not quite as natural. Dennis Quaid portrays his pastor father, who seems a bit world-weary in his stubborn role; the actor is powerful even if he never fully matches the age of his character (mercifully, no Indy 5 de-aging effects were employed). Scott Glenn as the legendary MLB scout and Bonnie Bedelia as the screenplay’s deus ex machina (a.k.a. the Hill family’s truth-telling grandmother) make lively impressions as the even more elder states-folk of the proceedings. The film is photographed in nostalgic tones which undergird its old-fashioned themes as the overprotective dad evokes unswerving devotion to religion as an excuse to forbid his son from a potentially disappointing career in baseball that will likely ruin the frail body behind his brawny batting arm. The script insists pop’s stalwart overprotection is somewhere beyond that of the parents in Footloose or Carrie, which gets far-fetched and tedious. Of course the staunch won’t short-change the launch. Still, when the inspirational sports and emotional moments work their magic, cheers and waterworks spring forth. There are some nice sequences of subtlety early in the film showcasing observant familial and congregational traditions which get mostly jettisoned for the inevitable montage sequences and grand finale. The movie is genial family entertainment and deftly demonstrates the majesty of both belief in a higher power and belief in a disciplined work ethic to field one’s dreams.
This summer’s great wish fulfillment romance is so high stakes, it just might cause an international incident. Taylor Zakhar Perez and Nicholas Galitzine play the U.S. president’s son and a British prince, respectfully, who find themselves falling in love in Matthew López’s winning romcom Red, White & Royal Blue (B+). Considering their roles as high-profile public figures, the young men who Meet Cute at a U.K. wedding party must keep their burgeoning relationship a secret at all costs. The lead actors are dashing and often amusing in their earnest roles, and López grounds the plot with enough political accuracy and contours about making history for one’s culture or community to make the cross-continental complications fairly credible. Strong supporting performances include Uma Thurman as the Texas-accented president and Stephen Fry as a smug member of the monarchy. The film, available on Prime Video, is a triumph of representation and a jolly good time in its own right.
Like Oliver Stone’s JFK more than three decades ago, Christopher Nolan’s epic of the so-called “father of the atomic bomb” Oppenheimer (A) examines the public life and significant trials of a misunderstood man from history buoyed by clever cross-cutting and prestigious panache. It’s perhaps Nolan’s most conventional movie to date, and yet every beat of the film is wholly original and affecting. As the title character, Cillian Murphy is mesmerizing: he’s an iconoclast, to be sure, who is equally ill at ease contemplating the morality of inventing a volatile creation and negotiating fraught relationships with the men and women in his professional and private circles. Murphy’s murky portrayal is absorbing and sometimes a little funny for a character under the gun to apply his scientific know-how to a morally dubious cause. The shades of gray factor quite literally into the director’s use of shadows and film stock as the period detail of early 20th century colors transitions to monochrome from sequence to sequence. Nolan masterfully fills in the contours and mysteries of his antihero’s dilemma and wastes few shots in advancing the story forward while zig-zagging through time. The film is packed with strong supporting performances including brittle and boisterous characters played by Robert Downey Jr. and Emily Blunt, who each get to chew considerable scenery in the final act. The film examines the toll of nuclear and psychological annihilation on the individuals bearing an unmistakable and historic burden. For a film as talky as it is, it moves briskly with deepening impact through its ample running time. It’s a blistering portrait and tough subject with high-stakes dramatic choices made throughout. It’s that rare biopic that sucks viewers in from the first frame and transports its audience into the many layers of its story. The score by Ludwig Göransson is also a stunner. This is a modern classic showcasing Nolan and his team at the top of their game. See this impressive, immersive and entertaining work on the biggest screen possible.
Watch the “Seeing is Believing” podcast for Silver Screen Capture video review and discussion of a faith-based hot take on the #Barbenheimer phenomenon:
Adapted by Adrian Tomine from his own graphic novel and directed by first-time filmmaker Randall Park, the Sundance comedy-drama Shortcomings (B+) is an enjoyable contemporary take on being a young Asian-American male in American society. The story’s moody protagonist, an underemployed movie theatre manager and lousy boyfriend, is winningly played by Justin H. Min. His lesbian best friend portrayed by Sherry Cola is an absolute hoot and always knows just what to say. Ally Maki is also memorable as the hero’s polar opposite; the whole ensemble enjoys time in the spotlight. The cross-country, cross-cultural story transports viewers from Berkeley to New York City with wryly observant misadventures. Park plumbs heritage and hot takes for a film that feels like it’s not trying all that hard and yet still it says so much about its subjects. It’s genuinely funny and also moving at times. Expect this one to be a cult hit, a kind of Reality Bites for modern times.
A B movie with an A message, Alejandro Monteverde’s Sound of Freedom chronicles an unconventional mission by real-life hero Tim Ballard, a U.S. government agent turned mercenary played by Jim Caviezel, who courageously endeavors to rescue children from sex traffickers in Colombia. The writing and acting could have used substantial polishing as much of the film feels like a prolonged PSA (down to a barcode at the end to pay it forward). But as an eye-opening expose of a major societal issue, it’s insightful and at times riveting. Sometimes this undercover thriller feels like it wants to attain the gravitas of a Donnie Brasco or The Departed but often gets sidelined with the craft of a late-season 21 Jump Street episode. There are genuine pacing issues especially in the final reel, after one of the most ingenious acts of entrapment has already taken place and somewhat bursts the momentum. The kid actors are almost roundly better than the adults as the movie relies a little too heavily on obvious tropes, overly sensationalized sentimentality and a moment or two of Rambo meets Taken ham-fisted histrionics. A pencil-mustached pedophile and a supportive wife character played by Mira Sorvino with fewer than three lines didn’t help add to the nuance. However, the film’s message is both faith-based and universal, that God’s children are not for sale. The power of storytelling is crystallized in a meta message from the lead actor in that much-ballyhooed mid-credits narrative and could have been streamlined throughout with judicious edits. But the cause to celebrate is that this movie is inspiring action to tackle a truly dark topic and promoting a global conversation. The director handles sensitive issues delicately and motivates viewers to action.
Premiered at Sundance Film Festival 2023 and opening in Atlanta in June.
Some famous Irish troubadours once declared humanity must stridently walk on, emboldened with “all that you can’t leave behind,” and a new movie rummages through the lived-in baggage we tote to each stage of our existence. A story of Seoul mates who may also be soul mates provides the profound connection at the center of Korean-Canadian writer/director Celine Song’s memorable and melancholy debut drama Past Lives (A). Nora and Hae Sung, two deeply connected childhood friends, played as adults by Greta Lee and Teo Yoo, are separated after Nora’s family leaves South Korea to immigrate to Toronto. Decades later, they reunite for several fateful days in her adopted hometown of New York City as they confront love, longing and the choices that impact their destinies. In a way the movie posits we are all immigrants or refugees from a stomping ground in our past where we came of age and where our self-concepts imprinted. Lee and Yoo are phenomenal in the crucial roles, exhibiting an incredible bond even as they share very few sequences together IRL. Both affecting actor John Magaro who humorously gets meta over pillow talk and NYC play crucial supporting roles; Manhattan looks like a dream lensed by cinematographer Shabier Kirchner. Song frames the story with splendid grace and intimacy; her screenplay and directorial choices prove both instantly absorbing and universally resonant. Christopher Bear and Dan Rossen’s lovely music underscores this delicate and sensitive tale gorgeously told. Many of the notions explored in Richard Linklater’s Before trilogy and John Carney’s Once get a fresh examination here. You’ll believe the Korean concept of In-Yun, that who we are today is a version of who we were in our past lives, is indeed working its quiet machinations on the film’s characters. The film will undoubtedly spark conversations we all wish we were having.
The grand tradition of the dramatic road trip movie, so splendidly rendered in films such as Rain Man andY TuMamá También, can add a new sentimental two-hander to its ranks in Sheridan O’Donnell’s Little Brother (A-), an intimate and inspiring indie that world premiered at the Atlanta Film Festival. Jake, portrayed by Daniel Diemer, has been tasked by his father (J.K. Simmons) to reluctantly transport his suicidal older brother Pete, played by Philip Ettinger, home for a family intervention. The dynamic between the central brothers in motion through a brittle journey to face their sometimes fractured bond, is thoroughly captivating, alternately heartbreaking and hilarious; and their pathway through the gorgeous West in locations such as Albuquerque and Twin Falls makes for an enjoyable and enlightening ride. As Pete, Ellinger diffuses the effects of mental illness with humor and regression to juvenile highjinks to mask his inner tumult. He’s consistently absorbing and magnetic in the tricky part. As the sometimes stoic straight man, Diemer has a tough role too and slays it with steely restraint. His tender depiction of abiding brotherly love is also sublime. When the siblings come to breakthroughs in how to confront and reconcile mental distress that’s not likely to vanish from looming large, O’Donnell continues to nourish the story with direction and dialogue which is rarely reductive or overly sentimental. This is the kind of movie that can save lives, and its notions of making the most of one’s lived experience and savoring the familial bonds to lift us when most needed have the power to deeply move.
Indie writer/director Kelly Reichardt is generally regarded as the matriarch of “slow cinema,” and her leisurely paced drama Showing Up (B-) focused on a ceramics artist played by Michelle Williams could be characterized as next of kiln: a slow burn with the effect of making the viewer feel quite glazed over at times. But ultimately the minimalist auteur punctures the porcelain veneer of her peculiar observational character study with moments of pathos and humor bordering on therapeutic. There’s nary a plot, aside from Williams’ character readying her whimsical figurines for an exhibition night while nursing an injured pigeon back to health and checking in on a brother suffering a declining mental state. This sibling is effectively portrayed in an off-kilter performance by John Magaro, providing an allegory about how artistic obsession isn’t too far removed from going a little crazy. Williams sculpts an idiosyncratic performance at the film’s center opposite a talented cast in bit roles including Maryann Plunkett and Judd Hirsch as her estranged parents and Hong Chau (winning as always) and André Benjamin as fellow denizens of an insular artist colony. Reichardt’s voyeurism into the process of creation has a way of growing on the viewer and soon enough conjures a mild bit of a maelstrom in its timid teacup. Although the pigeon might be the undisputed VIP character in the heart of this art house fare, this film should reward those seeking a story that breaks the mold.
Do you hear the peoples’ strings? A French Revolution set historical costume drama about a virtuoso violinist whose contributions to classical music had been heretofore lost to history, Chevalier (B+), directed by Stephen Williams, is old-fashioned entertainment with a twist. The illegitimate son of an African slave and a French plantation owner, Joseph Bologne. brilliantly portrayed by Kelvin Harrison Jr., rises to inconceivable heights in French society as a celebrated violinist-composer and fencer, dangerously liaising with a married woman (Samara Weaving) and Queen Marie Antoinette (Lucy Boynton). The women in the ensemble are uniformly strong (including a vamping Minnie Driver) and more than compensate for the supporting male performances, largely a predictably disapproving lot of prune faces. Although Williams won’t win any prizes for cinematic breakthroughs, he moves the story along briskly and frankly hits some operatic crescendos at times. In the lead role, Harrison commands his every sequence and commendably connotes his heartbreak of being caught between two worlds punctuated by the braggadocio of his public persona. It’s a rousing, crowd-pleasing biography with high relatability for those who liked Moulin Rouge or The Woman King, plus the music is also magnificent at the end of the day.
It’s the ultimate “inside baseball” about the world’s most iconic basketball shoe. Director Ben Affleck’s ‘80s-set chronicle about Nike’s courtship of rookie hoops star Michael Jordan, Air (B+) is a crowd-pleasing triumph. Matt Damon is effective as the wonkish mid-level exec fixated on attaching his swoosh to a champion of the court, with Affleck offering comic relief as the new-age company head. Jason Bateman and Chris Tucker also get plum roles as their business associates in a film that’s essentially a talky bake-off between Nike and adversaries at Adidas and Converse, not to mention a battle to outwit a sleazy sports agent middle man, played masterfully and mercilessly by Chris Messina. Delivering grace and gravitas to her role, Viola Davis makes her mark as MJ’s mom and unofficial sponsorship gatekeeper. The film succeeds with the rat-tat-tat of hilarious bro banter and the sparks of being scrappy. Setting his movie to a banger of a vintage MTV greatest hits soundtrack, filmmaker Affleck tells an unlikely true story with humor and pathos, giving Damon space to set just the right tone at the center of the quest. These real-life underdogs fight red tape with metaphorical mixed tapes in glorious fashion. For a movie about famous sports shoes, it keeps things loose and limber and pivots in an instant.
Sitisiri Mongkolsiri’s Bangkok-set Hunger (B-) is a visually appealing film meant to provide commentary on the upper echelon of society as far as it applies to perceived (and perhaps well substantiated) pretentiousness when it comes to the finer things in life. Aoy, played by Chutimon Chuengcharoensukying, is a chef working at the family restaurant she is intended to inherit, but when a customer working for a fine dining chef tells her she’s too good for the establishment, she decides to make a switch. This is where Chef Paul (Nopachai Jayanama) comes into play, the owner of a private catering service serving high paying clients. The film makes a point to present the food in a manner that isn’t entirely appetizing, showcasing scenes of surrealism as the clients devour dishes such as animals. The film, while well executed, slips into some derivative territory with its “eat the rich” mentality. It puts forth the message that decadence and money aren’t everything and when compared with the simple things life can provide, the alternative is soulless. We’ve heard this message before so don’t go into the film thinking you’ll be met with any deep philosophical questions. It’s still a fun watch, while not particularly challenging, and will certainly be palatable for a Friday Netflix night.
A.V. Rockwell’s A Thousand and One (B+) is a glorious parallel tale about motherhood against all odds set against an unfolding story of gentrification in Harlem in the ‘90s and 2000s. Teyana Taylor is brilliant as the unapologetic and free-spirited Inez who kidnaps her 6-year-old son Terry from the foster care system. Together mother and son set out to reclaim their sense of home, identity and stability in a rapidly changing town while harboring secrets. A talented Josiah Cross shares several gripping sequences opposite Taylor as her character’s young adult son (played earlier in life by Aaron Kingsley at age 6 and Aven Courtney at age 13). Will Catlett also gives a winning performance as Lucky, her love interest. The film will have audiences questioning whether Inez is making good choices but never doubting the sincerity of her maternal love. Rockwell also plumbs issues of erasure as literal human lives and real plights seem to be wiped away in the name of NYC’s progress. The soundtrack music by Gary Gunn is brisk and propulsive, dotted with radio voices of mayors prattling about jaywalking and other inconsequential issues while the film’s central characters seek food or shelter for the night. It’s an effective movie with tear jerking moments but an indomitable spirit. And a star is born in Taylor.
