Category Archives: New In Theaters

Reviews of what’s out now

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Funny How?

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Here Today

by George Wolf

Billy Crystal is a likable guy, and frequently funny. Tiffany Haddish is a likable gal, and often funny.

So there are possibilities for some odd couple fun in Crystal’s Here Today, but almost all of them are wasted in an overlong, self-indulgent, misguided and unfunny misfire.

Crystal, in his first big screen directing effort since 95’s Forget Paris, also co-writes and stars as Charlie, a legendary comedy writer currently working on a TV sketch show. Haddish is Emma, a singer whose boyfriend wins lunch with Charlie in a charity auction. But when the boyfriend becomes an ex, Emma shows up at the restaurant instead, and an unlikely friendship is born.

Charlie’s memory problems are quickly becoming an issue, as are the flashbacks to a vaguely traumatic event involving his ex-wife (Louisa Krause). Frequent visits to the doctor (Anna Deavere Smith) help Charlie hide his condition from his grown children (Penn Badgley, Laura Benanti), so the speed with which Emma sniffs it out is just one example of the falseness that plagues the entire film.

From phone conversations to reaction shots to skits on Charlie’s TV show, there’s hardly an ounce of authenticity to Crystal’s direction. And because none of these characters feel real, Charlie’s dismissive attitude toward the younger writers’ brands of comedy – complete with an embarrassing riff on Network‘s “mad as hell” speech – comes off as sour grapes from Crystal himself.

The script, based on co-writer Alan Zweibel’s short story “The Prize,” has only enough humor to elicit some scattered smiles. The bigger goal quickly becomes telling us how Charlie comes to grips with his condition and his past, and more disappointingly, showing us how Emma puts her own dreams on hold to pursue her magically healing effect on this white family.

Crystal has enjoyed many high points in a long and legendary career. He may very well have more, which would help everyone forget the lowlight that is Here Today.

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Hillbilly Eulogy

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Above Suspicion

by Hope Madden

There are films that open with voiceover. Sometimes the voiceover is a character who is already dead. These films are rarely very good.

It’s no spoiler. As Susan Smith (Emilia Clarke) waxes melancholic over the opening images of Phillip Noyce’s true crime thriller Above Suspicion, she’s straightforward with us. She’s dead, we’re watching her body being found, there sure are a lot of trees, and now she has a lot of time to think.

Chris Gerolmo (Mississippi Burning) adapts Joe Sharkey’s book about the case, which was also the subject of Aphrodite Jones’s book The FBI Killer as well as at least one true crime TV series episode. Why all the fuss?

Susan Smith’s case represented the first in history to see an FBI agent convicted of murder.

Smith, a smalltown Kentucky addict with two kids, a live-in ex-husband for a dealer, took a shine to Mark Putnam (Jack Huston) the moment she saw him. The shiny new FBI agent, just two weeks on the force, had taken the gig to begin to build a career. He and his wife Kathy (Sophie Lowe) had a 5-year plan.

Smith would alter that plan.

Noyce’s movie looks good. It looks the part, plenty of dusty small towns, low rent lots, dive bars and trees. And he’s assembled a game cast. Clarke surprises as a hard and hard-headed woman looking for a way out.

A cascade of odd ducks and smalltown curiosities give plenty of supporting actors the chance to add some layers to the Appalachian backdrop. Johnny Knoxville especially impresses as Smith’s low key but dangerous ex.

Huston’s take on Putnam is pretty forgiving. The performance feels indecisive. In his hands, Putnam is certainly too smart to fall into this situation, but is he naïve enough to do it? This is partly where the entire film falters.

The voiceover lets us know whose story we’re hearing, and yet somehow we’re mainly on Mark’s side through most of this. Kudos to Noyce and Clarke for sidestepping noble victim cliches and giving Smith a backbone as strong as her head is wrong, but the film’s overall tone lacks conviction.

It doesn’t help that we know where everything is going from the opening scene, since Smith tells us. There’s no real tension to build, and Noyce never takes advantage of his opportunity to give us an unreliable narrator. At least that would have given us something to think about. Lacking that, or any real insight and certainly no deep empathy for anyone involved, Above Suspicion can’t help but feel like a couple hours of wallowing in someone else’s pain.

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Next-Level Flower Arrangements

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Queen Marie

by Christie Robb

Alexis Cahill’s biopic is a sumptuous surface-level look at Queen Marie of Romania’s impact on the negotiations leading up to the Treaty of Versailles—which wrapped up the first World War in 1919.

Promised by its allies to have all its disparate historical territories united at the conclusion of the war, Romania has been devastated by German occupation. Despite passionate pleas by the prime minister at the peace talks, none of the major players (Clemenceau of France, Lloyd George of the United Kingdom, and Wilson of the United States) can be bothered to lend an ear, much less lend some aid.

So, Queen Marie (Roxana Lupu, a veteran of royal portrayal), granddaughter of Queen Victoria, hops the royal train to Paris to lobby on her country’s behalf.

The attention to detail in the costumes, interiors, and settings is divine. It’s a joy to sit back and luxuriate in the opulence while historical personages debate national boundaries wearing haute couture in a variety of fancy reception rooms decorated by an almost ridiculous amount of freshly-cut flowers.

But once the delight of the visual treat starts to get old, there’s not much here to hold the attention.

We are frequently told of the sacrifices the Romanians made during the war and of the hardships they are currently suffering. But without grounding in the experience of a specific character, it’s a lot of tell with no show. (In fact, the film’s intro is several minutes of black and white footage with a voiceover summarizing Romania’s involvement in the war that’s more reminiscent of an early 2000s Biography Channel program than a feature film.)

We don’t get why a united Romania has any meaning for the people. We just have to take the well-dressed lady at her sometimes wooden word.

There’s also the issue that the story is overloaded with potential conflicts and character arcs that don’t seem to go anywhere.  There’s some sort of marital difficulties between the king and queen and a hint that Marie is having an affair. The heir seems to hate his mom and is conducting an affair with a woman who is unsuitable for reasons that are unclear. And more or less everyone tells Marie that she should probably just stay in her lane and focus on her clothes, children, and social engagements and stop with the politicking already.

I imagine all of this plays better for a Romanian audience for whom the history, characters, and subject matter are familiar. As an American with a very tenuous grasp on WWI and Eastern Europe generally, I found the film to be a pleasant enough introduction to an interesting person, but one that would have benefitted by sacrificing breadth of coverage for depth of character development.

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Memories of Murder

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Cerebrum

by Brandon Thomas

Every filmmaker dipping a toe into the science fiction genre is looking for that singular hook that will drive audiences wild. Think The Matrix with its kung-fu fighting in a simulated reality. Or Christopher Nolan’s Inception with its grounded look at dream invasion. Co-writer/director Arvi’s Cerebrum may not reach the heights of either of those movies, but it certainly seeks to have a hook of its own.

Tom (Christian James) has returned home at the behest of his father, Kirk (James Russo,  Django Unchained and My Own Private Idaho). The two men are barely on speaking terms, but Kirk has asked his son to help him on a project that could have a significant impact on retaining the memories in dementia patients. The project becomes much more complicated when corporate espionage, murder, and body-swapping come into the picture. 

Cerebrum doesn’t have the desire, or the budget, to go big like The Matrix or the movies of Chris Nolan. It’s not a film built around pushing technological limits or grand action sequences. This is a film that wisely knows its limits. Instead of a watered-down wannabe action-palooza, Cerebrum has more in common with a classic murder mystery. There’s even a pinch of neo-noir thrown in for taste.

Still, there’s an inherent cheapness to the film that’s hard to shake. The memory loading tech never goes beyond looking like anything more than a dollar store brand smartwatch. The movie would’ve benefited greatly from a better visualization of the technology and how the implementation of memories works.

Dual roles come into play in a big way during the latter half of the film, and James as Tom/Kirk does a commendable job swapping between the two. Sure, sometimes it’s as easy as throwing in a southern accent for Kirk, but James manages to get the interesting tics and mannerisms that Russo has as an actor. And speaking of Russo, the veteran character actor makes an impression with the limited screen time he has. I’ll admit, it’s a bit of a stretch to see Russo as a renowned scientist, but it’s not Denise Richards as a nuclear physicist Bond girl kind of a stretch.

Cerebrum lacks the “oohs” and “aahs” of a lot of modern sci-fi, but it still manages to tell an intriguing and economical story that’s worth a look.

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Hip to Be Square

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YouthMin

by Rachel Willis

Who needs a farcical mockumentary skewering both youth ministers and the types of kids involved in church camp? Directors Arielle Cimino and Jeff Ryan, and writer Christopher O’Connell bring you YouthMin.

Pastor David, aka “Pastor D” (Jeff Ryan), is dedicated to educating the members of his youth church organization, as well as getting them to the annual Bible camp for competition and games. So, he’s floored when the church assigns a new youth minister to his group, Rachel (Tori Hines). As we quickly see, Pastor D needs all the help he can get.

Ryan is the perfect combination of 90’s MTV reality star (he’d fit right in on early seasons of The Real World) and overenthusiastic youth minister trying too hard to connect with his flock. His attempts to educate the kids on the Bible’s tenets are both hilarious and misguided—a bottle of water becoming an amusing metaphor for sex before marriage.

The collection of kids is what you might expect. There’s a stereotypical jock-type who looks up to Pastor D, a girl who dresses very conservatively and who might have a crush on our inept pastor. Then there’s Stephen, who refuses to talk, and Deb, who dresses in dark colors but knows her Bible (especially the racier parts). There’s isn’t anyone in the group who truly stands out, but it doesn’t really matter since the best parts of the film are the ways these kids relate and react to Pastor Dave.

About two-thirds of the way through, there’s an abrupt tonal shift. The film stops making fun of its ‘subjects’ and tries for a heartwarming, root-for-the-underdog romp. It’s jarring and not nearly as entertaining as what precedes it. These aren’t characters we’ve been asked to care about, so expecting us to suddenly pull for them requires an abrupt shift in perception. Ultimately, it’s a disappointing change.

For most of the film, the comedy works. O’Connell’s writing is reminiscent of some of Christopher Guest’s funnier films. But then YouthMin forgets it’s a mockumentary. The comedy gets stale and the laughs become infrequent as the film putters to its predictable resolution.

It’s too bad this film falters so badly in its final scenes because these lackluster components overshadow the funnier material. If the filmmakers had remembered they were making fun of their characters, they would have had a solid film from start to finish.

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More Like Amateur

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The Virtuoso

by Hope Madden

Hey, Anthony Hopkins just won his second Oscar! The octogenarian was not the favorite, but there’s no denying that, after dozens of phoned-in near-cameos, he landed the role of a lifetime and gave a performance to match.

So, back to phoned-in near-cameos, I guess.

In director Nick Stagliano’s The Virtuoso, Hopkins plays The Mentor, an enigmatic man in a shadowy office. Mentor to whom, you ask? To The Virtuoso (Anson Mount), of course. He’s one of those “put my black ops training to good use responding only to this one guy by phone who sends me on my missions and otherwise I am utterly, stoically alone” kind of guys.

The Virtuoso is a man of few words—except in voiceover. In voiceover you cannot get him to shut up, his monotone musings on scheduling, technique, blah blah blah so wearying you can’t help but suddenly, brightly realize all over again what an absolute masterpiece American Psycho was.

One hit goes well. One hit goes south. Then we dig in for the next hit, where all the voiceover details about planning, timing, persistence and detail go straight out the window.

From here, we’re with The Virtuoso step by step as he bungles this and misunderstands that and misfires his weapon over here and makes poor decisions over there. It might make a half-decent comedy if it weren’t played so, so, so seriously.

Stagliano and writer James C. Wolf aim for neo-noir hipness but miss the mark by a wide distance.

Mount does what he can and almost generates interest as his character practices making normal people faces in the mirror before going out in public. Hopkins is saddled with nonsensical speeches meant to suggest his deadened soul. He doesn’t try too hard to make anything of it.

Abbie Cornish does try, bringing a flash of human interest as The Waitress. But no amount of homespun charm can save a movie this dumb.

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Whack A Mole

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Cliff Walkers

by George Wolf

At this point, Yimou Zhang could bring a two-hour rendering of my neighbor’s lawn maintenance regimen to the big screen, and I’ll be there opening night.

After Shadow, Hero, House of Flying Daggers, Raise the Red Lantern and so many more, Zhang has proven himself a bona fide stare-at-the-screen-in-awe visual master.

He’s no slouch in the storytelling department either, and those skills move a little closer to the spotlight in Cliff Walkers, screenwriter Yongxian Quan’s intricate tale of espionage in the years before WWII.

It is 1931, and four Russian-trained Chinese communist party agents parachute into snow-covered Manchukuo (a Japanese occupation that was previously Chinese Manchuria) to put operation “Utrennya” into action. Their orders are to locate a surviving witness to a Japanese massacre, and smuggle him out to shed light on the atrocities.

The four agents agree to split up in pairs, and the double-crosses come early and often. As one pair of agents attempts to find and warn the other, a cascade of spy games, torture, accusations and suspicion gels into a suspenseful and engrossing ride.

And though Cliff Walkers may be less overtly showy than Zhang’s usual visuals, it is no less stunning. The constant snowfall becomes a character in itself, deadening the footsteps that run through the streets and enveloping the wonderfully constructed set pieces in gorgeous color contrast.

Many a butt is smoked in Cliff Walkers, and many a deadly stare is leveled in the criss-crossing searches for moles, snitches, turncoats and witnesses. Blood will be shed, and sacrifices will be made.

And again, Yimou Zhang will make it easy to get lost in, and nearly impossible to look away from.

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Do Not Pass Go

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Murder Bury Win

by Cat McAlpine

Friends Chris, Adam and Barrett are trying and failing to launch their indie board game Murder Bury Win. When a mysterious benefactor expresses interest in developing the game, the friends have to ask themselves how far they’re willing to go to make their dreams come true.

Those unfamiliar with modern board games and the cutthroat, rarely lucrative industry that’s behind them may be left out on a handful of jokes. Especially the constant references to “Flaming Puppies,” a stand-in for the real game Exploding Kittens. But the film eventually descends into stakes we can all understand – life or death.

Writer/Director Michael Lovan spends a little too much time setting up the story and the other shoe could drop 10 minutes earlier. Murder Bury Win shines best when it’s being silly, and the more fun it has, the better it gets.

When Chris (Mikelen Walker) discovers he’s in the presence of his hero, he’s bathed in a holy glow from the window behind him. Fantasy scenes of the board game world make for fun vignettes. The horrifying use of a cheese grater pushes the comedic thriller into horror. These little moments stand out despite a sometimes stilted script.

The performances from the small ensemble cast shine across the board. Walker is a dreamer, and a stoic straight man who has finally had enough. Henry Alexander Kelly is able to summon grit for the soft and caring Barrett. And Erich Lane’s Adam becomes unhinged so easily, so seamlessly as the film progresses that he matches increasingly insane circumstances perfectly. Brian Slaten as Officer Dan and Craig Cackowski as V. V. Stubs both create fun, sometimes outlandish characters that counterbalance the main trio. And Lovan’s cameo brings such a weird energy that I wish he’d been in more of the film.

Lovan has an eye for color, effectively using red to bathe the remote cabin where most of the film takes place. The custom game mat, the too-long curtains, and even the backing of The Murder Wall (yes, you read that correctly) are all the color of blood. It trains you to recognize blood later as it appears in an otherwise white bathroom, in a fine mist across faces, and seeping through the bottom of a brown paper bag.

Each of the best friends is dressed in a bold signature color, yellow, blue, and green, like tokens on a gameboard.

Overall, Murder Bury Win is a zany look at our murder fantasies and what it takes for an ordinary person to suddenly become capable of such bloody acts. Whether you’re a board game fan or not, this film makes for a fun playtest.

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Without Explanation

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Tom Clancy’s Without Remorse

by Hope Madden

Michael B. Jordan is a bona fide movie star, a butts-in-seats celebrity ready to front his own spy thriller franchise. He’s ready to Harrison Ford.

He definitely is ready, there’s no doubt he has the talent, charisma, looks and mass appeal to bring a Tom Clancy story to the big screen. But should he do it?

Jordan’s John Kelly finds himself in an unexpected operation in Aleppo. He loses a friend and nearly loses his commanding officer (Queen & Slim’s Jodie Turner-Smith, wasted), much thanks to a cagey CIA operative (Jamie Bell) who’s hiding something from the team. Something Russian.

Well, those Russian secrets keep resurfacing, and they rack up a heavy body count. Next thing you know, Jordan has to take off his shirt and splash water on his bare chest because…I don’t know. It might honestly just be a contractual thing now.

I’m not saying I’m sorry it happened.

Stefano Sollima directs this espionage thriller, and he has even less luck than he did with his last feature, Sicario: Day of the Soldado. The problem this time around is not that his film suffers terribly by comparison. (Man, that was the problem last time.) The problem is that writers Will Staples and Taylor Sheridan just don’t seem to be trying very hard.

And Sheridan can be one of the finest writers working in film (Sicario, Hell or High Water). But you would not know that here.

The thrills are mediocre, the shootouts and fights are middling, and the only thing more obvious than the plot points are the performances. Worse still, the writing is sloppy and convenient. There’s an unmanned, unlocked, running vehicle right when John Kelly needs one, and don’t even ask how he gets unconscious villains from point A to point B. I guess that’s confidential.

It’s not that Tom Clancy’s Without Remorse is a terrible movie. It isn’t. But there’s no excuse for it to be utterly mediocre, which it is. The director’s proven to be competent and the co-writer has proven to be genius. Plus there’s a bona fide movie star at the height of his wattage leading the effort.

I blame Putin.

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The Right to Bare Arms

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Golden Arm

by George Wolf

You know it’s been 34 years since we got a funny movie about arm wrestling?

True, it was Stallone’s Over the Top and it wasn’t meant to be a comedy, but the point is…the drought is over! Golden Arm is here with a new tournament, new stakes and plenty of laughs.

Danny – aka The Dominator! (Betsy Sodaro) – is a tough lady trucker who enjoys a good bar fight and the womano y womano competition of arm wrestling. Danny’s good, but not good enough to beat “Fuckin’ Brenda” The Bonecrusher (Olivia Stambouliah) in the upcoming championship tourney.

But you know who could be? Danny’s old friend Melanie (Mary Holland, who stole so many scenes in last year’s Happiest Season). Mel might be a soft spoken wimp who can’t even stand up to rude customers at her struggling bakery, but Danny also remembers Mel as having one impressive right arm.

So we’re gonna need a training montage!

First-time feature director Maureen Bharoocha serves it up, along with some nicely organic info on the rules of the game that serve to get us situated (don’t forget to “suck and tuck!”). And as Danny and Mel take to the road, the debut screenplay from Ann Marie Allison and Jenna Milly provides plenty of room for inspired antics (the bit about Twister had me howling) on the way to the arms race that ends with a 15k Grand Prize.

Holland and Sodaro make an endearing odd couple, and it’s the pure engagement of their characters that keeps the film afloat during a shaky first act. But hang in, because from picking out Mel’s wrestling persona (“I’m ‘The Ex-Wife!'”) to a gynecologist’s detailed condemnation of the phrase “balls out,” it just gets funnier as it rolls along.

Call it “stupid funny” if you want, but it’s still funny, with some underlying themes about gender stereotypes, personal growth and female friendships that are far from dumb.

It’s the bawdy excess that’s in your face, so close you may even miss the wink-wink nods to both the Stallone flick and The Karate Kid. But those bits of subtlety are even more evidence that the rough edges in Golden Arm don’t come from sloppy construction.

With this one, it’s guns out, fun’s out.