Tag Archives: Netflix

Linklater’s “Novelle Vague” Celebrates Artistry in Purest Form

Indie auteur Richard Linklater sets the table for a French New Wave banquet complete with dishy performances, select servings of asides, a main course with temporal tastings, napkin scrawls as spontaneous cues and signature jump-cutlery in a tasty treat for cinephiles, Nouvelle Vague (A-). Expect to sleuth diligently on the Netflix menu come November for this obscure bonbon, a subtitled 4:3 aspect ratio black and white tribute to the rebel filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard as chronicled through the ragtag production of his unconventional and groundbreaking first feature film, 1960’s Breathless. Guillaume Marbeck is wonderful as the obstinate, improvisational iconoclast Godard, pioneering an on-the-fly guerrilla style; and Zoey Deutch is a sublime standout as his film’s glamorous leading lady Jean Seberg, often aghast at her helmer’s terse techniques. Among a delightful largely unknown supporting cast of real people behind a turning point in world cinema, Matthieu Penchinat is a hoot as accommodating and towering cinematographer Raoul Coutard whom, at one point on the shoot, hides in a tiny wagon to capture Parisian street crowds of accidental extras. This dramedy deftly covers the landmark high-flying act of Godard’s 20-day film shoot, complete with frustrated crews and producers and ample helpings of wit and wisdom. Linklater’s approach is that of admiration rather than mimicry or experimentation, although only a modern director this creative would conceive the go-for-broke concept and film it so elegantly in the French language. It’s madcap and maddening at times but a fun ride for those who care to hop onboard. The pace isn’t exactly breathless. The director overuses famous quotes as convenient stand-ins for more original dialogue. And some characters could have used more development. But the placemaking and insights are first-rate, with find crafts all around carrying on a grand tradition. It’s a film about the tempestuousness of artistry and the effect of timing in invention; and like Ed Wood and The Disaster Artist before it, serves up its own distinctive and layered souflee.

Hey Ya, Frankonia/Outcast: “Frankenstein” Format Presents Identity Issues

Frankenstein Film Netflix

Note: This film is playing in limited release in theatres prior to November 7 streaming.

One of culture’s most enduring pop duos occupies an often fascinating double bill in Guillermo del Toro’s idiosyncratic retelling of classic gothic horror fantasy, marked by exploration of self-loathing and shared identity. The august director’s expansive Netflix adaptation of Frankenstein (B), is divided in half, focused at first on narcissistic Dr. Victor Frankenstein, played by Oscar Isaac, displaying epic rage, and then following the sapient creature’s perspective, embodied by Jacob Elordi, often more pensive and philosophical as he grapples with the dysphoria and isolation imbued in his cobbled together reanimated body. The presentation in two chapters, each from a different man’s POV, is almost too on the nose about the identity of the real monster. Call it ego then emo. The first half about ambition and scientific ethics is very much alive, with a very committed Isaac energized by experimentation, with grand production design and some grisly effects, plus some spry scene work opposite Christoph Waltz, a hoot as a curious benefactor. Horror staple Mia Goth is intriguing in her arrival but underused in this section, sidelined as the father figure tale takes full center stage. Chapter two largely tackles societal rejection through Elordi at the center and not fitting in very well; but this part of the tale is a letdown, downplaying action for more interior case study that just doesn’t pulse the same way as the preceding passages. The creature is a sympathetic character, born this way and yearning for answers, but the aesthetics  and plot don’t do him any favors in emoting and connecting through the pancaked prosthetics to the audience. The towering Elordi looks the part, for sure, but his character just doesn’t land with intended gravitas. The directorial choice of how all this is framed simply sucks the life out of the film rather than amplify the intrigue. The film’s crafts are more roundly impressive than anything in the story itself, ranging from Kate Hawley’s distinctive costumes to Alexandre Desplat’s lyrical score. There’s lots of good creative work here; it’s just put together in ways that don’t always elevate the familiar into the fantastic. For the two-chapter Netflix mentality, it’s one part binge and one part cringe.

“Happy Gilmore 2” an Abject Calamity

Kyle Newacheck’s legacy sequel Happy Gilmore 2 (D-) has such a “grip it and rip it” feel, it almost doesn’t even qualify as a movie at all. Undoubtedly a documentary about making this film would have yielded more laughs than those captured and presented on the streaming screen. Slapshot direction meets a scattershot script as the title character played by Adam Sandler returns nearly three decades later to battle alcoholism, incidental deaths on and off screen and a new extreme league of his adopted sport of golf. There’s nary a real threat, a funny gag or a compelling subplot to add to the first film in any substantive way. It just feels like the makers are casually marking time because they know there’s an appetite for more fun on the fairways with a character they’ve grown to love. Fan service flashbacks and throwbacks fill much of the bloated run time, with strained sequences on parade so Netflix can clock viewer eyeballs for a smidge longer. Adam Sandler exudes little of the rowdiness or rage present in the title character before, and his story arch about getting his life turned around and funding his daughter’s dance dreams prove quite incidental. A flurry of real golf stars largely ill-equipped to add to the comic or dramatic timing round out a cast of many actors from the original. It’s an indictment when Bad Bunny appears to be acting the hardest as Gilmore’s new caddy. This outing is a mulligan from nearly any perspective. 

“Kpop Demon Hunters” All the Rage

Kpop Demon Hunters

This is the summer sensation that’s equal parts singing and slaying. Canadian film director Maggie Kang taps into her Korean heritage with collaborator Chris Appelhans, best known as an American illustrator, to co-direct and write the musical fantasy Kpop Demon Hunters (B), an engaging and culturally rooted film about a trio of female singers who moonlight as monster assassins. The high production value style is inspired by the look and feel of large-scale concerts, promotional videos and globetrotting adventures with pop music sensations, blended seamlessly with aspects of mythology and demonology for equal parts authentic action. Arden Cho as lead vocalist of the fictional group Huntr/x, Ji-Young Yoo as the rapper/lyricist/knife specialist of the girl-group and May Hong as the rebellious dance lead are among the fresh voice talent delivering funny, contemporary dialogue and music, with assist from contemporaries such as the band Twice and veterans such as crooner Lea Salonga, plus Ken Jeong and Daniel Dae Kim, as agent and doctor, respectively. Ahn Hyo-seop also shines as the lead singer of a mischievous rival boy band, flanked by sly sidekicks: a grinning tiger and a cute bird with a hat The score composed by Brazilian pianist Marcelo Zarvos adds to the kinetic, electric atmosphere with a bevy of international talents contributing to bangers such as “Golden,” “Takedown,” “Soda Pop” and “Your Idol,” keeping audiences humming in sassy syncopation. Although it drags a little in the final act, the film is mainly breezy and exciting with infectious catchiness and colors. It is more finely and winningly observed than expected; and it’s no wonder this Netflix discovery has inspired sing-along cinema screenings.

TSA Thriller “Carry-On” Gifts Taron Egerton a Christmas Eve Crisis of Confidence

The square-jawed protagonist of a new Yuletide actioner is equal parts dubious and daring, and he’s definitely in danger. Director Jaume Collet-Serra’s Carry-On (B-) puts substantial decision-making on the shoulders of a humble LAX TSA agent played with aplomb by Taron Egerton, whose character is mid at adulting even as his pregnant girlfriend (Sofia Carson) shares he’s on the brink of zaddy-hood. But when an earpiece emitting the somber, sinister and sus voice of Jason Bateman comes through the conveyor belt tray with very specific instructions, it’s Nick of Time slash Die Harder vibes for our reluctant hero rizzing to the occasion to outwit terrorists commandeering a prominent plane on a Christmas Eve crash course with destiny. Meanwhile in what at first occupies a completely distinct tonal universe, Danielle Deadwyler is doing the most as the LAPD agent connecting a series of homeland homicides with the action afoot at the airport. Things get more interesting when hunty gets stunty. The film flashes some creative communications and surveillance graphics and waves some wondrous wands once the plot finally progresses into full cat and mouse-dom. It’s familiar stuff, to be sure, and it’s not quite as funny or fleet of foot as Egerton’s committed central everyman performance or American accent. It also feels Bateman’s screen time is so slight, he may as well have been contracted via Cameo for his flash of a part. Overall, expect a slightly better than average good time out of this thriller with just enough EQ in the eggnoggin to please those gathered for the holidays.

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.

“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.

“Saturday Night” Shows High-Wire Act Behind SNL’s 1975 Pilot

Saturday Night Film

When NBC’s SNL ushered in a new format of bawdy and topical sketch comedy nearly a half century ago, it arrived in the world via a most improbable birth. The 90 or so tense minutes leading up to the live pilot episode are the subject of Jason Reitman’s punchy, energetic ensemble dramedy Saturday Night (B+). Gabriel LaBelle masterfully plays optimistic show runner Lorne Michaels opposite an array of splendid fellow writers (a whip-smart Rachel Sennott and deadpan-droll Tommy Dewey are fantastic) and legendary on-air comedians (really solid impressionistic impersonations by Cory Michael Smith as Chevy Chase, Dylan O’Brien as Dan Aykroyd and Lamorne Morris as Garrett Morris). The movie crackles with kinetic energy as last-minute wardrobe fitting, set building, camera testing and script doctoring activities collide with the madcap antics of these delirious denizens of the famed 30 Rockefeller Plaza studio. Reitman justifiably ribs the old guard of classic TV production in the form of a smarmy executive (Willem Dafoe) and a really dickish Milton Berle (J.K. Simmons) as he curates a near real-time portrait of art and anarchy in the making. The film is consistently entertaining, even if a bit lightweight in terms of story or substance. It’s a whirling dervish energy fueled showcase of how unusual and disparate ingredients collide like fermenting hops in a creative home-brew. The film offers the thrills of artists working at the top of their game in a pressure cooker, and it’s a bright return to form for Reitman who cracks open what seems like a familiar vault and unleashes a vibe of his own. The inventive comic syncopations he puts into motion will tickle and tantalize.

“Thank You, I’m Sorry” Plumbs Bleak Topics in Delicate Comedy

By Christian Waltermire, Guest Critic

If Swedish film Thank You, I’m Sorry (C+) can be considered a comedy, it’s certainly dry with a layer of bleakness. There are plenty of heartwarming moments as we follow Sara (Sanna Sundqivist) navigate the death of her husband along with the new integration of her estranged sister Linda (Charlotta Bjork). Being in the late stages of pregnancy along with a 5-year-old son, she quickly realizes although reluctantly that her future endeavors can’t be undertaken alone.  Sara’s bitterness and flat almost emotionless tone is a center point of the conflict between all characters; her projection on each one of them as she attempts to give harsh advice only serves to reveal her own insecurities as well as qualms with her overarching life path. Linda and Sara have had minimal interaction since childhood considering Linda’s decision to live with her father following the divorce of their parents, which leaves Sara harboring resentment towards both her abusive alcoholic father and also towards her sister who merely seems to want to assist and reconnect with her. Along with a mother-in-law who is constantly attempting to interject with psychological analyses, Sara slowly begins to open to these individuals that merely want to assist with her grieving process and pregnancy. By the time the end credits roll, viewers may see the importance of letting go of one’s resentment and accepting the benevolent assistance offered in the face of one’s own pride.

Jonás Cuarón’s “Chupa” Offers Families a Mythical Creature

Now on Netflix.
By Christian Waltermire,
Guest Critic

Jonás Cuarón’s Chupa (C+) wastes no time jumping right into the action; and while there may not be much here to captivate someone above the age of ten, there’s still plenty of fun to be had with this Netflix original. Cuarón manages to turn a piece of Mexican folklore into a cute creature feature fallowing Alex (Evan Whitten), a kid from the U.S. who visits his grandfather (Demián Bichir) in Mexico for spring break. Alex initially doesn’t show much interest in his familial heritage; but along his journey, through discovering his father and grandfather were luchadores, and by making friends with a cuddly Chupacabra cub, our protagonist is launched into a whimsical adventure. The hero endeavors to dramatically dodge a researcher (Christian Slater) wanting to capture his new friend while also braving personal trials related to connecting with Latino culture. The lead creature is certainly the main attraction, stealing attention from anyone else on screen. Cuarón succeeds in making Chupa believable, leveraging a canine stand-in to allow a natural connection to form between the younger actors and the mythical animal. While this movie might not be on anyone’s re-watch list, its runtime makes it bearable, resulting in an easy film to throw on with the kids.

“Do Revenge” is a Clever Teen Comedy Now Available on Netflix

Now on Netflix.

It’s dish served deliciously. Jennifer Kaytin Robinson’s Do Revenge (B+) is a smart teen comedy loosely inspired by Strangers on a Train, set in a prestigious Miami high school with candy-coated colors and ‘90s music delights. Talented TV stars Camila Mendes and Maya Hawke get top billing in this fever dream of diabolical double crosses and hilarious one-liners. The film examines the truth and consequences of spreading secrets and starting rumors and demonstrates toxicity isn’t the domain of a single gender. Mendes and Hawke are a wonderful duo and play two ends of a spectrum with verve and vivacity. Austin Abrams is also a hoot as a hedonistic bad boy. This is a recommended comedy in the terrific tradition of Heathers, Clueless and Mean Girls with tinges of suspense and acerbic wit. 

Netflix Documentary “My Octopus Teacher” is Fascinating

You’ll want to wrap your tentacles around this feel-good, feel-sad nature documentary. James Reid and Pippa Ehrlich’s My Octopus Teacher (B) centers on diver Craig Foster who swims for a year with an octopus that lives in a kelp forest off the coast of South Africa. Through visiting her den and tracking her movements every day, he creates a symbiotic bond that rejuvenates his faith in his own human world. The octopus is a tad more interesting than the guy, and the human drama seems a little tacked on to add extra resonance. But the underwater camera work is spectacular, from camouflaging to evade pyjama sharks to feasting eyes on predatory seafood banquets. Much of the detail is nothing short of miraculous. It’s immersive and occasionally rousing and an unexpected find suitable for families.