Anywhere But

Here

by Hope Madden

At what point did Robert Zemeckis stop making movies and start executing gimmicks? I suppose all of his films have begun with a gimmick—as so many movies must. What if a kid goes back in time and accidentally keeps his parents from meeting? But at some point, the gimmick—often mistaken for artistic experimentation—overtook the story. Was it Polar Express? Was that the tipping point?

Here sees Zemeckis pointing his unmoving camera toward one single spot for one hour and 44 minutes.

That sounds like a stage play, doesn’t it? It’s actually Zemeckis and Eric Roth’s adaptation of Richard McGuire’s graphic novel. Zemeckis breathes some cinema into the static experience with artful cutaways to overlap time with place and spin the story of thousands of years of history taking place in this one single spot.

The bulk of that time is spent in a living room, camera pointed toward the picture window out of which we see the house that once belonged to Benjamin Franklin’s illegitimate son, of all things.

Though we travel back and forth through time, we sit mainly with one family. Al (Paul Bettany) and Rose (Kelly Reilly) buy the place with what Al received from the GI Bill after his stint in WWII. One moment they’re perching their baby Ricky for a Christmas photo, the next it’s Ricky and his baby sister by the tree, then a baby brother, and so time flies until finally Ricky brings home his high school sweetheart, Margaret.

High school Ricky and Margaret are played by Tom Hanks and Robin Wright (for all those who pined for a Forrest/Jenny reunion). They do not look like high school kids, and their voices are even less convincing.

As Zemeckis takes us forward and back through time, the fact that both leads always look like middle aged people does cause some confusion. But the two veteran actors are reliably great, as is Reilly and sometimes Bettany.

The rest of the ensemble doesn’t fare as well, often because the dialogue is so forced and stilted. Most scenes do little more than ensure that we recognize the important historical moments we’re witnessing: Covid lockdown, the Revolutionary War, the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, the comet that killed the dinosaurs (I swear to God). It’s like Zemeckis took the worst part of Forrest Gump and shoehorned it into this movie.

Like nearly everything the filmmaker has made in the last two decades (at least), Here feels hollow and slight, an experiment in technological execution rather than artistic experimentation.

Forget & Forgive

Absolution

by Daniel Baldwin

Sixteen years ago, a then-52-year-old Liam Neeson starred in the action-thriller Taken and his career completely changed. While he’s still made a few notable dramas since, the bulk of his work post-2008 has been in the action realm. This resulted in plenty of gems, particularly in his work with filmmakers Jaume Collet-Serra and Joe Carnahan. But it has also resulted in many duds over the last five years. The once-dependable aging action king began pumping out dreck like Honest ThiefBlacklight, and The Ice Road.

Lucky for us, Absolution is a big step back in the right direction. This film sees Neeson reteaming with his Cold Pursuit director Hans Petter Moland for a crime drama that leans very heavily on the drama side of the equation. This time ‘round, Neeson plays an aging gangster who is having a rough go of things. His memory isn’t what it used to be – sometimes to the point where he forgets where his house is – and that’s not a healthy problem to have when you work for a Boston mob boss (Ron Perlman), even if he is your longtime friend. This issue is further compounded by the fact that Neeson’s stuck babysitting Perlman’s son (Daniel Diemer), who is as entitled as he is inept.

With his mental faculties on the wane, our antihero decides its high-time to rekindle some sort of relationship with his daughter (Frankie Shaw) and grandson (Terrence Pulliam), while also striking up a romance with a local woman (Yolanda Ross). He’s a bad, broken man nearing the end of the road, trying to find a measure of goodness and forgiveness to cling to before he leaves this world behind. There’s a deep sorrow at the core of Neeson’s performance, showcased not only in his interactions with his limited number of loved ones, but also in a series of surrealist dreams about his own father (Josh Drennen).

This isn’t new territory. Toss a rock at the filmographies of earlier aging action heroes like Charles Bronson and Clint Eastwood and you will find at least a few similar films. It isn’t even new ground for Neeson, whose 2022 film Memory saw the actor as an assassin dealing with memory issues.

What sets Absolution apart is Hans Petter Moland. Moreso than Cold Pursuit or even Out Stealing Horses, Moland charges at it all head on with his penchant for lush, pensive visuals and aforementioned surrealism, turning an airport novel tale into something a bit more. This results in Neeson’s best genre flick since The Marksman and his best performance since Scorsese’s Silence.

Brighton Beach Memoir

Anora

by Matt Weiner

Sean Baker doesn’t shy away from seamy subcultures, and the worthiness of people trying to get by outside of conformity. Yet it hasn’t been until his Palme d’Or winner Anora that he has found one group without any redeeming qualities. This shocking and depraved group of people is, in this case, the jet-setting global elite.

Anora “Ani” Mikheeva (Mikey Madison) is no stranger to high rollers at her luxe Manhattan strip club. But there’s wealthy, and then there’s wealthy. When a party of Russians ask for a dancer who speaks their language, Ani becomes an object of desire to Ivan “Vanya” Zakharov (Mark Eydelshteyn, pitch perfect as a manic boychild whose naivete can turn on a dime from charming to something nearing sociopathic disinterest).

Vanya has taken up residence in his Russian oligarch parents’ Brighton Beach mansion. He is in America to study, but spends his days playing video games and his nights partying into oblivion—anything to avoid being sent back to Russia to join the family business. His relationship with Ani quickly escalates, from sex work outside the club to becoming an exclusive escort to an impromptu Vegas marriage.

This being a Baker fairytale, Ani’s whirlwind rags-to-riches marriage is only the beginning of her Cinderella story. What follows is a comically grotesque odyssey through the Russian-dominant Brighton Beach, as Vanya eludes his new bride and a superb supporting cast of family fixers and toughs sent to get the marriage annulled before more shame is brought on the Zakharov family.

With the callow Vanya on the run, Baker instead focuses on the chaos and damage (both physical and emotional) left in his wake. And while this is a deserved star turn for Madison, who is electric and enthralling, she is just one of the victims of Vanya’s selfishness.

She joins—or rather is dragooned into—the evening’s hunt for Vanya by a trio of Russian and Armenian strongmen, led by the beleaguered Orthodox priest Toros (Karren Karagulian, a Baker mainstay in his best role yet).

For much of their night together, Baker pulls off a risky balance between outright comedy and what is, essentially, the kidnapping of a sex worker by three large, powerfully connected men. None of this would work without Baker’s characteristic empathy for everyone. And it certainly wouldn’t feel so easy-going were it not for the relationship between Ani and the silent strongman Igor, played by Yura Borisov with a standout turn that nearly rivals Madison’s.

Baker’s most memorable characters are often wrestling with the American dream, and Baker himself seems like a Rorschach test for your own baggage: both pointed critic and secret optimist. Even at his most hopeful, though, there’s always a catch. Save the very few who can buy their way to hedonic bliss, carving your own real-life fairytale ending won’t look like it does in a Disney movie.

Soul Salvage

Emilia Pérez

by George Wolf

I’ll tell ya what, this year in movies is heading toward the finish line with some mighty ambitious swings.

In just the last few weeks, Francis Ford Coppola’s Megalopolis and Todd Phillips’s Joker: Folie à Deux brought grand, messy visions to the big screen. Such commitment is easy to appreciate, which made the results even more frustrating.

Jacques Audiard’s Emilia Pérez offers similar vision and commitment, but has more success finding the humanity and resonance to make it memorable.

And plenty polarizing too, no doubt.

Audiard, the French filmmaker known for simmering, intense dramas such as A Prophet and Rust and Bone, delivers his first Spanish language project as a transgender musical crime thriller that beats the odds. This brash clash of styles could easily bury the chance for true joy or heartbreak, but these characters will not be denied.

The always welcome Zoe Saldana is instantly sympathetic as Rita, an overworked and underpaid attorney in Mexico City who get a surprising offer from a frightening new client. Feared cartel boss Manitas Del Monte (Karla Sofía Gascón) needs Rita’s help to retire from his business, fake his death, and start a new life as Emilia Perez – the woman he has always dreamed of becoming.

Del Monte’s wife Jessi (Selena Gomez, terrifically against type) and their two young children are more obstacles for Rita to navigate. Emilia still wants them in her life, but doesn’t want them told of her life change.

After a long career as Juan Carlos Gascón, this is Karla’s first film since transitioning, and she plays the dual roles with wonderful clarity. Del Monte is sinister and mysterious, while Emilia glows from the freedom to “love myself as I am.” With Rita’s continued assistance, Emilia dedicates her life to changing her soul, and helping to solve the thousands of missing persons casualties from her former line of work.

Audiard – who also co-wrote the script and several of the original soundtrack tunes – doesn’t seem much concerned with balancing the film’s many tones. Instead, he throws melodrama, romance, lust, humor, noir, and camp at us with unapologetic zest and life-affirming music. These musical set pieces are uniquely well-staged and evocative, adding to the intoxicating nature of the film’s pull.

Gascón, Saldana and Gomez craft a fascinating triangle – one thrown into chaos with the arrival of Jessi’s boyfriend Gustavo (Edgar Ramirez), and their plan to get what Jessi feels she’s long deserved.

If you’re thinking this all sounds like a super-sized telenovela, I get it. And honestly, there’s a decent chance Audiard’s new fondness for the overt won’t let you see Emilia Perez as anything else.

But there is more here. As Emilia herself says, “I lack singing.” Give the film room enough to blend its many voices, and you’ll find some surprisingly touching, blood-soaked harmony.

Long Way Home

Black Cab

by Hope Madden

It’s a classic ghost story, complete with a creepy old car, winding English road and a figure in white. But who could be afraid to get in this friendly cab with affable old Nick Frost behind the wheel?

Frost plays Ian, and his fare for the night is a bickering couple: Anne (Synnøve Karlsen) and Patrick (Luke Norris). Ann doesn’t really want Patrick in the cab at all. Honestly, neither does Ian.

Writer Virginia Gilbert takes a very old timey tale—the most haunted road in England, a weeping mother who hitches a ride—and gives it some teeth. This old spook isn’t here just to relive the same ancient trauma across the centuries. She wants something. And Ian aims to give it to her.

Watching Frost (Shaun of the Dead) oscillate between jovial and deranged is a bit of fun. He complicates the character, layering desperation with menace, suggesting the film could take a psychological rather than supernatural road at any moment.

Norris manages to find some depth in the cad character, but even when he’s a one-note narcissistic gaslighter, he does it well. Karlsen struggles with a character lacking in dimension. There are flashes during heated moments with Norris, as one character clings more tightly and the other sees more clearly, but those instances are fleeting. She spends most of the film in a nameless state of unhappiness, an emotion that does not evolve as her circumstances change.

Director Bruce Goodison is at his finest when his three characters are confined to the cab, moving relentlessly away from the bright lights of the city, the squeak and slap of the windshield wipers their road tunes. But a needless side trip to an abandoned motel, coupled with unimpressive CGI creature effects, keep Black Cab from ever really grabbing hold.

Is It the Path to a Better Movie?

Across the River and Into the Trees

by Rachel Willis

Based on the novel by Ernest Hemingway, director Paula Ortiz’s Across the River and Into the Trees is a stunning-to-look-at film about an older man struggling with his past.

The film opens with Colonel Richard Cantwell (Liev Schreiber) receiving unpleasant news from an army doctor. However much the doctor pleads with Cantwell to check into a hospital, the colonel refuses, instead claiming he’ll do so after a weekend trip to Venice.

Along for the ride is Jackson (Josh Hutcherson) a naïve young soldier who wants nothing more than to leave the war behind and return to Kentucky.

Though based on Hemingway’s work, much of the movie’s dialogue feels like the creation of screenwriter Peter Flannery. For a film that relies on character interaction and discussion, much of the dialogue is either heavy-handed and unnatural or terribly banal. The moments shared between Jackson and Cantwell have little depth, despite the pair’s shared experiences with war.

There is also a distinct lack of chemistry between the actors, which only worsens when we met the young Italian woman, Renata (Matilda de Angelis). Though she and Cantwell are supposed to share a deep connection, the audience never feels it. And as Renata claims more of the film’s screen time, Jackson’s presence becomes even more superficial.

Of the bunch, Schreiber is the most effective, conveying more emotion with small moments of silence. Hutcherson is not without talent, but he is given so little to work with that his part is frustrating. His character’s lack of depth becomes more disappointing as we learn more about the reserved Cantwell.

As for Renata, her role in Cantwell’s story is the most superfluous. Her backstory is neither original nor compelling, and though de Angelis may be a fine actor, you wouldn’t know it from this film.

What works for the film is the setting, the costuming, and the cinematography. They’re a pleasure to behold in a film that otherwise brings nothing substantial to the table.

Pork & Pickles

Hitpig

by Hope Madden

Do you ever take one look at the villain in an animated film and know exactly how things will go? I don’t mean the villainy. I mean the comedy.

The second Leapin’ Lord of the Leotard (Rainn Wilson) pranced across the screen in Hitpig, spilling over his thong and tights, I knew. As flamboyant as he is round, Leapin’ Lord is comic relief wrapped in fat jokes veiled thinly beneath homophobia.

That’s just problem #1.

The film pits a bounty hunter pig (Jason Sudeikis) against an eco-criminal (Anitta) who routinely breaks animals out of their involuntary confinement. The latest escapee is Pickles the Elephant (Lilly Singh), the Leapin’ Lord’s dance partner.

The script comes in part from Berkeley Breathed, whose delightful Pete & Pickles picture book series inspires the adventure. Hitpig needs to get Pickles to Vegas for showtime, but Pickles just seems to get them into one misadventure after another.

Directors Cinzia Angelini and Davis Feiss can’t land on a tone (except when they go tone deaf with the fat jokes). The animation, basic plotting and quick scene changes would appeal to the very young. Much of the humor might entertain older kids who’d be put off by the very silly antics. Certain jokes seem aimed at adults, who are no doubt already bored into a fugue state.

Lessons are learned, stakes are low, animation style is bland, jokes go on too long and the slight story is stretched beyond breaking. A solid cast (RuPaul, Hannah Gadsby and Flavor Flav round out the voice talent) and a few charming moments can’t overcome the film’s lack of narrative cohesion or heart.

There is a moment in this film where the nasty villain slams Pickles the Elephant in a train car, only her terrified eyes visible behind the bars. This ode to Dumbo may have seemed necessary in another animated film about a mistreated show elephant. But that particular image—recalling one of the most traumatizing moments in the history of family films—serves as a startling reminder of just how mediocre Hitpig really is.

Something Personal to Say

Chasing Chasing Amy

by Hope Madden

Nearly 30 years ago, Kevin Smith did what he does best. He made a film so simple, so personal, so deeply human, so profoundly myopic, so densely problematic, so deeply heterosexual-white-dude that it was hard not to simultaneously hate and love it. In fact, of all Smith’s movies, his 1997 straight-boy-falls-for-lesbian romcom Chasing Amy fits that (rather lengthy) bill best.

Hell, just being the indie darling of 1997 – pinnacle Weinstein era – creates additional problems, let alone the way Smith’s script funhouse mirrors his offscreen relationship with the star (Joey Lauren Adams, who earned a Golden Globe nomination for her vivid performance).

Whew, that’s a lot to unpack, and it’s not even the primary focus of Chasing Chasing Amy. For documentarian Sav Rodgers, stumbling across Smith’s film in his parents’ stash of Ben Affleck flicks as a kid saved his life. Literally. During his toughest times, Rodgers would watch the film every day. He’d never seen queer people in a film before. And he wanted to believe that one day he would find the kind of love Holden (Affleck) expressed for Alyssa (Adams).

And yet.

For many (most?) in the LGBTQ community, Chasing Amy is nothing if not problematic. So, what begins as Sav’s odyssey through the film’s New Jersey landmarks turns into an investigation into the movie’s queer depictions, then becomes an enduring friendship with Smith himself before turning into a remarkable examination of the seedy state of independent film in 1997. And that alone would be more than worth the price of admission.

Indeed, Rodgers gets better, more insightful talking head interviews for this doc than I’ve seen in any documentary in the last several years. Guinevere Turner (who wrote 1997’s Go Fish and partly inspired the character of Alyssa), in particular, is a treasure.

But even as Rodgers’s film metamorphosizes, so does its filmmaker. Because Rodgers is himself a large part of his film – the film’s impact on his own life did inspire the documentary – the director cannot help but document his own journey. And not his journey as a filmmaker, but as a trans man.

Rodgers possesses sharp storytelling instincts and a cinematic presence so sincere and authentic it could break your heart. You come away from this film hoping genuinely for his happiness and waiting eagerly for his next film.

Games People Play

The Remarkable Life of Ibelin

by George Wolf

If you join me in sometimes wondering whether we all might have been better off if the internet was never invented, The Remarkable Life of Ibelin will turn your head.

It will also put tears in your eyes, so come prepared for a moving story about one young man’s very secret, very fulfilling life.

Norwegian Mats Steen was born with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy, a rare and degenerative muscle disease that took Mats’s life at the age of 25. As his disease progressed, Mats spent more and more time online playing World of Warcraft, leaving his parents despondent that their son would never know the simple joys of friendship, community and social interaction.

But Mats was careful to leave behind his password, And with it, his family soon discovered that Mats enjoyed all they wished for him and more as Ibelin Redemore, P.I., the role he played within a WoW community called Starlight.

And because of the the online game’s extensive archive, director Benjamin Ree (The Painter and the Thief) is able to recreate the life Mats lived inside the game.

On a broader scale, the gaming community will find plenty of reinforcement here, but the real power of this film lies in its intimacy. It is a story of empowerment, and how a special young man transcended his limitations to touch people’s lives in ways his parents could never imagine.

The Remarkable Life of Ibelin is remarkable in its own right. It weaves together interviews, home movies and stylized game recreations into a journey of stirring emotion, led by one young man whose humanity would not be denied.