Monthly Archives: November 2022
The Nose Plays
Guillermo Del Toro’s Pinocchio
by Hope Madden
Is it any surprise that Guillermo del Toro’s visionary style, sentimental sensibilities, and macabre leanings suit animation so well? If there was any question, he dispels it with his gorgeous, emotional stop-motion wonder, Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio.
Co-directed with sculptor/animator Mark Gustafson, the film begins, as all good children’s tales must, with devastating loss and grief. If you thought the opening minutes of Up! were heartbreaking, gird your loins for this one.
The tragedy begins to abate, albeit clumsily and with much shouting, once Geppetto (David Bradley) hacks away at the tree recently occupied by one Sebastian J. Cricket, homeowner (Ewan McGregor, charming). Cricket’s home becomes Geppetto’s disobedient new puppet. You may think you know where it goes from here, but you do not.
Del Toro’s script, co-written with Patrick McHale and Matthew Robbins, establishes itself immediately as a very different story than Disney’s. The 1940 film – and, to a degree, the live-action remake Disney launched earlier this year – offers a cautionary tale about obedience. So does del Toro’s, although, in true GDT fashion, he’s warning against it.
Set between world wars in rural Italy, the film – as so many of del Toro’s do – examines the presence and pressures of authoritarianism, specifically Catholicism and fascism, on families and on the young.
A magnificent cast including Cate Blanchett, Tilda Swinton, Tim Blake Nelson, Ron Perlman, Burn Gorman, Finn Wolfhard, John Turturro, Christoph Waltz, and Gregory Mann as Pinocchio brings charisma and dark humor to their roles. This matches the sometimes darkly funny images. Waltz, in particular, is garish, frightening fun as Count Volpe, puppet master.
The animation itself is breathtaking, and perfectly suited to the content, as if we’ve caught an artist in the act of giving his all to bring his creation to life. Everything about the film is so tenderly del Toro, whose work mingles wonder with melancholy, historical insight with childlike playfulness as no other’s does.
A Little Wicked
Disenchanted
by Hope Madden
Amy Adams’s small part in Spielberg’s Catch Me If You Can stood out, even in that pool of talent. Her role in Phil Morrison’s 2005 indie Junebug nabbed her the first of many Oscar nominations. But she wasn’t really a star until she donned that enormous, sparkly white dress and went searching for love’s first kiss in Disney’s unabashed 2007 mash note to Disney, Enchanted.
Between 2007 and today, Adams has earned an additional five Academy Award nominations and worked with many of the greatest directors and actors to live. The fact that she chose to reprise her role as wide-eyed innocent Giselle in Disney’s tardy sequel Disenchanted is reason enough to be intrigued.
And Maya Rudolph as the evil queen? I’m listening.
Giselle and her beloved Robert (Patrick Dempsey) leave New York City behind for the fairy tale world of suburbia, the now-teenaged Morgan (Gabriella Baldacchino) and their own toddler in tow. Things don’t go as magically as Giselle had hoped, not because suburbia is so terrible, but because having a teenager is.
Desperate for the happily that’s supposed to come ever after, Giselle wishes for a life like a fairy tale. What she forgot is that she’s a stepmother, and that’s never a good thing in a fairy tale. Soon, she’s battling it out with Rudolph’s Malvina to see who really deserves the title of evil.
There’s also a bit about Morgan finding her inner hero, Robert discovering his purpose, there’s a teen romance, dire consequences back in Andalasia, a lengthy animated preamble, and, of course, singing.
Lyricist Stephen Schwartz and composer Alan Menken return with songs less memorable than the three that earned them Oscar nominations in 2007. In fact, besides a couple of exceptional villainous costumes, very little about Disenchanted stays with you.
It’s overstuffed and feels it. Rather than making an interesting point about midlife crises or – better still, the ill effects of a lifetime of Disney nonsense on a female’s outlook and sense of self-worth – Disenchanted settles for a watered-down “everything’s fine” message.
And that’s what the film is. It’s fine. It doesn’t take advantage of its potential, doesn’t even take advantage of its impressive cast. It’s a pretty slog through missed opportunities and aging odes that reflects Giselle’s angst: wasn’t there supposed to be something better than this?
System Failure
You Resemble Me
by Tori Hanes
How easy it is to cast mindless blame, right? How thoughtless an act to blindly hate those constructed to be our villains. The easiness of hate comes from the idea of the “other” – an unknown enemy, distant and different. The metaphorical peeling of the onion, cathartic and harrowing, is how first-time director/co-writer Dina Amer makes the “other” the protagonist of You Resemble Me.
You Resemble Me expedites this connection to the “other”, forcing bitter tears to stream down unready cheeks. Following alleged suicide bomber (later found to be homicide victim) Hasna Ait Boulachen through her twisted and harrowing past, Amer examines the universal pipeline from neglect to radicalism.
Amer strengthens this story with overarching themes. Whether it be a victim of abuse’s search for family, neglect manifesting into harm, or yearnings for connection, there is a strong and present backbone throughout Hasna’s tragic tale.
These ideas act as an anchor for Hasna’s orbit, and for the cast of performers. Young Hasna (Lorenza Grimaudo) embodies the fitful spirit being darkened by trauma, while adult Hasna (Mouna Soualem) shows mature yearnings.
Each performance surrounding the two leads molds itself to represent one of Amer’s themes. While this creates a spotlight around Hasna as a character, it dims the other actors – a tragedy of sorts, as the actors’ potential screams for opportunity.
While the delve into trauma is successful at humanizing, the pipeline effect Amer relies on leaves little room for nuance. This creates a tunnel vision rehashing of an incredibly complex existence, boiling down to its more traumatic cause-and-effect moments.
The discomfort in becoming what you’ve been bred to fear is the soul of You Resemble Me. Audiences who choose to engage will unwittingly participate in slicing the onion, with tears to show for it.
Drive-By
Lamborghini: The Man Behind the Legend
by George Wolf
The name “Lamborghini” probably brings to mind some beautiful, expensive cars that go very fast. In fact, they can reach speeds that are recommended only for the most skillful drivers.
That’s very much like the approach of Lamborghini: The Man Behind the Legend, writer/director Bobby Moresco’s drive-by telling of Ferruccio Lamborghini’s rise from the vineyards to the showrooms and the race tracks.
It is great to watch Frank Grillo dig into the lead role, though. He’s been a mainstay of action films for years, but here Grillo gets the chance to move beyond a reliance on brawn for a performance that shines with passion and charisma. He’s easily the best part of the film.
It’s also nice to see Oscar-winner Mira Sorvino as Ferrucchio’s loving-but-frustrated wife, Annita. But Moresco (who won his own Oscar for co-writing Crash with Paul Haggis) is simply content to check off the boxes of Ferrucchio’s journey, never giving any of them the depth or consideration required to resonate.
Moresco frames the biography around a late-night drag race between Lamborghini and rival Enzo Ferrari (Gabriel Byrne in a glorified cameo once pegged for Alec Baldwin). As the men trade steely glares and steady gear-shifting, Moresco quickly moves the flashbacks through Ferrucchio’s return from war, the launch of the company, personal and professional strife, success, and the constant drive for perfection.
The rush to get a car ready for the 1964 Geneva auto show instantly recalls James Mangold’s Ford v Ferrari, which is not a comparison that works in Lamborghini‘s favor. While Mangold wisely chose to limit his film’s scope so we could become invested in the lives and the details of a particular mission, Moresco is just reciting all these things that happened in a famous man’s life and hoping we might care as much as he does.
That’s rarely a winning formula. The film’s constant lack of authenticity undercuts any attempt to deconstruct Ferruchio’s need for recognition as more than a poor farmer, and Lamborghini: The Man Behind the Legend just can’t deliver the horses, or the power.
Going Like a Ghost Town
Sideworld: Damnation Village
by Hope Madden
Director/narrator George Popov and writer Jonathan Russell return to England’s shadowy past for the third installment of their documentary series, Sideworld: Damnation Village. We leave the forests and seas behind to peek inside the cottages, inns and public houses beset by residents unwilling or unable to leave.
The sixty-minute doc benefits again from the collaboration of a team that’s clearly on the same page. Russell and Popov have worked together, not only on both previous installments in this series (The Haunted Forests of England and Terrors of the Sea) but also the narrative features Hex and The Droving.
Cinematographer Richard Suckling once again helps Popov fill the screen with spooky but beautiful scenes, while composer Matthew Laming again breathes eerie life to the imagery with his whispering, whistling score.
Their focus this go-round are the tiny clusters of cottages dotting the English countryside, villages that have withstood centuries of war, pestilence and trauma that have left their marks. We begin, of course, in Pluckley – Guinness’s “most haunted village”.
The film moves on to Prestbury and the tale of, among others, the Black Abbott. Visits to the mostly empty villages are accompanied by Popov’s associated tale of the macabre. The filmmakers enlist actors Helen O’Connor and William Poulter to give voice to letters, articles and witness accounts.
As intriguing as the tales of lost love and criminal retribution are, it’s the mournful story of Eyam that stays with you. Perhaps it’s the connection to modern tragedy – Eyam voluntarily quarantined during the Plague, saving all the communities around it from infection but dooming themselves in the process.
As the series progresses, an interest in connecting the spectral with the scientific has become one of Sideworld’s prominent elements. In this case, Popov and company explore British archeologist/author T.C. Lethbridge’s Stone Tape theory to help explain recurring, looping paranormal phenomena.
Perhaps what best sets this series apart from other spooky folklore entertainment is its reverence for the subject – not just the scary stories, but the actual human lives behind them. Mingled with the solid storytelling – visual and aural – the heady concoction delivers another solid look at the unexplainable.
Someone Else’s Baggage
Bantú Mama
by Daniel Baldwin
When Bantú Mama first opens, we follow Emma (Claire Albrecht) – a French woman of African descent – as she quietly returns home on a city bus. She says hello to some neighbors, has dinner, feeds her parrot, and goes to bed. The next morning, she sets off on a vacation to the Dominican Republic, where she will spend a week relaxing at a luxurious resort.
Or so she thinks. Only a day or two into her stay, she gets a phone call. We don’t hear the other side of the conversation, but it’s clear that she’s going to be heading home early. We see her meet up with an unknown man and switch her belongings over to a different suitcase, before heading to the airport. There she is taken into custody by the authorities. The charge? Trafficking. It seems Emma is a drug mule.
Not long after, as luck would have it, Emma manages to escape custody and finds herself hiding/living in a dangerous Santo Domingo barrio with a group of children. They help care for Emma and she, in turn, helps care for them. After all, she’s not a bad person. She’s just spent her life surviving as best she can and this situation is no different. It might lack the luxury of the resort or even her previous life back home, but life is what we make of it. That said, maybe don’t go around carrying other people’s baggage? Literally, in this case.
Bantú Mama is a timely story of hardship, culture clash, compassion, and chosen family. The core performances are all compelling and refreshingly naturalistic. So too is the absolutely gorgeous cinematography, which primarily utilizes natural light. This is one of the most beautifully shot films of the year, so it’s no wonder that it is already in contention for awards season.
If the film has any major fault, it’s that it doesn’t really have a third act. There’s simply Emma’s life before the arrest and her life after it. Not every story needs to follow a traditional narrative structure, especially one like this that willfully plays around with more commercial thriller and dramatic tropes. It does, however, rob the story of some impact and staying power.
Still, this is a striking debut from filmmaker Ivan Herrera, who we should keep an eye on going forward. Ditto for cinematographer Sebastian Cabrera Chelin, who deserves some major recognition for the work on display here.
Work Trip
Presence
by Rachel Willis
Writer/director Christian Schultz, along with co-writer Peter Ambrosio, attempts to weave together a story of a woman haunted by darkness in his film, Presence.
The movie opens with Jen (Jenna Lyng Adams) pacing in her bedroom on a dark and stormy night. We see from her computer messages she’s been trying to contact someone named Sam (Alexandria DeBerry) for three weeks. A quick flashback lets us know Sam is a friend from New York who is essential in Jen’s life.
Sam’s disappearance weighs heavily on Jen, and it’s in this desperation for information that we get our first inklings of suspense. However, the strangeness of the film’s opening gives way to something more mundane. Despite its initial creepiness, most of the film offers a mishmash of ineffective hallucinatory moments and scenes of dull dinner table conversation.
Sam reappears to tell Jen she has found them a business partner, David (Dave Davis), to fund their venture. It’s not entirely clear what Jen and Sam do, but it seems that they create and design… zippers. Sam wants Jen to meet David, and the opportunity for this comes on board David’s yacht. Along with a small crew, the characters set sail for David’s factory in Puerto Rico where they will sign a business deal.
There is a lot left unsaid, but not in the subtle way that hints at something sinister. Instead, it suggests the writers had only a basic idea of how to get these three people in a secluded location and then ran with it. That it leaves us to get lost in a sea of questions that don’t really matter to the overall plot but are distracting nonetheless.
This lack of satisfactory backstory is telling for the movie overall. A lot of little pieces of information never connect. Some of it is unimportant, while other bits should have been expanded upon. If some of the unnecessary issues had been dumped, it would have left room for deeper exploration of what exactly is haunting Jen. The writers don’t seem to understand that general confusion does not equal tension.
The result is that nothing much happens and there is no clarity on what exactly is going on. We end up with bones instead of flesh, and it leads to disappointment.
Grass Is Green, Girls Are Pretty
Paradise City
by George Wolf
Until the recent news that Bruce Willis had sold his “likeness” for use in future projects, Paradise City was once targeted as his final film before the retirement brought on by aphasia.
It seemed like a good plan. Reunite him with John Travolta, add the talents of Stephen Dorff, and Bruce could bow out with a respectable crime thriller.
Turns out, they should have saved Gasoline Alley for last.
Paradise City lands as another cookie cutter production from Edward Drake, Corey Large and Chuck Russell, surrounding solid work by the three leads with a litany of dreadful supporting performances and careless construction.
Willis is bounty hunter Ian Swan, who goes missing in Maui after finally confronting the $10 million fugitive he’s been tracking for years. Ian’s son Ryan (Blake Jenner) wants in on the family business, so he travels to Hawaii where he teams with Ian’s old partner Robby (Dorff) and a Maui cop named Savannah (Praya Lundberg) to take up the mystery of what happened to his old man.
And odds are it has something to do with Buckley (Travolta), a local big wig who’s buying off all the Maui politicians for the rights to strip mine all over the island.
Explosions. Shoot ’em ups. Bikinis. Embarrassing fight choreography. Unsurprising surprises.
Fattening this holiday turkey to feature length also requires a side trip to the village of Paradise City, where the natives are resisting Buckley’s bribes. Why don’t Ryan and Savannah use one of her endless supply of off days to try on some skimpy swimsuits and learn about Hawaiian culture?
And then…back to the bad guys.
Travolta mercifully tones down scenery chewing, Willis is game for what he’s asked to do and Dorff seems like Olivier next to most of the cast members he’s often saddled with.
Really, I can’t imagine what was going through Dorff’s head during some of his takes. He may as well be teaching a class for mannequins who just came to life that very day. But they’re so excited to be acting! Painful.
But they all probably had a great time in Maui.
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