Category Archives: New In Theaters

Reviews of what’s out now

Dead and Loving It

What We Do in the Shadows

by Hope Madden

Which sounds more stale, a fake documentary or a vampire movie? Maybe it’s a tie, but don’t let that dissuade you. What We Do in the Shadows – a fake documentary about vampires – is a droll gem of a film, and it feels like a gift during this dreary cinematic season.

That’s right! Believe it or not, filmmakers are still doing something interesting with vampires. It’s as if the collective artistic mind decided to retrieve the once-worthy villain from the shame of Twilight. The great Jim Jarmusch made them cool again last year with Only Lovers Left Alive. That same year, newcomer Ana Lily Amirpour made them mysterious again with A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night. And now What We Do in the Shadows makes them ridiculous – but in a good way.

In the weeks leading up to the Unholy Masquerade – a celebration for Wellington, New Zealand’s surprisingly numerous undead population – a documentary crew begins following four vampire flatmates.

Viago (co-writer/co-director Taika Waititi) – derided by the local werewolf pack as Count Fagula – acts as our guide. He’s joined by Vladislav (co-writer/co-director Jemaine Clement), who describes his look as “dead but delicious.” There’s also Deacon (Jonathan Brugh) – the newbie at only 187 years old – and Petyr. Styled meticulously and delightfully on the old Nosferatu Count Orlock, Petyr is 8000 years old and does whatever he wants.

Besides regular flatmate spats about who is and is not doing their share of dishes and laying down towels before ruining an antique fainting couch with blood stains, we witness some of the modern tribulations of the vampire. It’s hard to get into the good clubs (they have to be invited in) or find a virgin. Forget about tolerating the local pack of werewolves (led by the utterly hilarious alpha Rhys Darby).

The reliably hysterical Clement is best known for his outstanding comic work in the series Flight of the Conchords, and the film benefits from the same silly, clever humor. Together he and Waititi spawned the underappreciated 2007 comedy Eagle vs Shark. Their work here is more charming and good natured, so likely more crowd pleasing.

The filmmakers know how to mine the absurd just as well as they handle the hum drum minutia. The balance generates easily the best mock doc since Christopher Guest. It’s also the first great comedy of 2015.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

 

Of Whales and Men

Russia’s contender for the Oscar last week is the devastating everyman struggle Leviathan.

The film is so intimate, so generously detailed yet provocatively ambiguous that you can almost overlook the larger metaphorical drama.

Hard drinking hothead Kolya (Aleksey Serebryakov) finds himself in a losing battle for his own property, a prime piece of beachfront real estate the town’s corrupt mayor wants for his own purposes. Still bullishly optimistic, Kolya calls in a favor from an old army buddy, now a high powered Moscow lawyer. The lawyer has dirt on the mayor, but justice is complicated in Russia.

Director Andrey Zvyaginstev draws wonderfully understated performances from his entire cast. Serebryakov is an aggravatingly empathetic center, profoundly flawed but deeply human. Equal to him is Elena Lyadova as Kolya’s world-wearied, enigmatic wife. And Roman Madyanov is sloppy perfection as the old school Russian thug/politician.

Zvyaginstev’s vision is one of Russia in transition. Old World practices mesh with a current sense of entitlement from the Orthodox Church, and the newly democratic Russia seems to find its footing in the same old place – the throat of the people.

The film is richly allegorical from start to finish. The visual metaphors, in particular, are sometimes heavy but never unintentionally so. Zvyagintsev means to slap the audience now and again with both the overwhelming plight of the Russian everyman, and with his fighting spirit – boozy and bruised, but hard to extinguish.

Cinematographer Mikhail Krishman’s astonishing photography connects the viewer to the rugged beauty of the Russian land, the very earthliness that holds Kolya so firmly. He can trace his attachment to this plot of oceanside property for generations and without it, he’s terrifyingly untethered – a lost soul.

Leviathan is not without humor, and though Kolya’s plight grows overwhelming in biblical proportions, Zvyaginstev refuses to lose sight of the intimate, personal battle that grounds his epic metaphor.

It’s a breathtaking feat of filmmaking.

 

Verdict-4-0-Stars

 

Brilliant Disguise

Force Majeure

by George Wolf

“Well If I would have been there I would’ve…”

You’ve heard it, and said it, so many times that the meaning is often lost. Force Majeure (Turist) studies the phrase like a social experiment, and brilliantly exposes the folly in convincing ourselves of our own righteous intentions.

Tomas (Johannes Kuhnke), Ebba (Lisa Loven Kongsli), and their two children are enjoying a ski holiday in the French Alps. Things are fine until they take lunch on an outside patio. Suddenly, an avalanche strike seems imminent, and the danger elicits very different reactions from husband and wife. Though the scare becomes a false alarm and everyone chuckles at their fear, the family dynamic has been rocked to the core.

Writer/director Ruben Ostlund pulls a terrific cinematic sleight of hand, employing a pleasant aesthetic while he cooly rips away at a host of societal assumptions. As Tomas and Ebba drop the pretense and begin to bluntly confront each other about what happened, Ostlund raises hefty questions about gender, class, and relationships.

Bruce Springsteen once sang, “God have mercy on the man who doubts what he’s sure of,” and Force Majeure, a Critics Choice Award winner and Golden Globe nominee for best foreign language film of 2014, illustrates the waves that can stir from just a few ripples of such doubt.

When Tomas and Ebba reveal their situation to another couple, the male friend is clearly thrown off balance, and not just for Tomas and Ebba. He transfers their predicament into his own relationship, keeping his girlfriend awake for hours of discussion until he can again feel confident in his own skin. It is a clever way to mirror the audience’s inevitable projection of themselves into the situation.

With all the internal conflict, it’s also worth noting that the film looks great, and it’s clear Ostlund’s mountainous setting was no accident. On the ski slopes, there can be plenty of rough spots among the beautiful terrain, and this backdrop remains a nicely subtle parallel to marriage itself.

Much like the conversations you may have after the film, Force Majeure can be uncomfortable in the way it shines a light on aspects of ourselves often kept under wraps. But Ostlund ultimately leaves any judgements up to us, along with the urge to question any we might make too quickly.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

 

 

A Pretty Fun Neighborhood

The DUFF

by George Wolf

The DUFF may not be the best teen movie ever made, but after the string of If I Stay‘s and Fault in Our Stars‘s the last few years, it feels like Citizen Kane. Characters, humor, smarts, acting…what a nice change.

It’s based on a “young adult” novel by Kody Keplinger and centers on Bianca (Mae Whitman) a high school senior who is aghast to learn she is known in social circles as a DUFF – the Designated Ugly Fat Friend. Ouch. Even though she is assured the label doesn’t mean she’s ugly and/or fat – just the one people use to get to her hotter, more popular friends – Bianca feels some changes are in order.

First, she breaks up with her longtime besties, then turns to her neighbor Wesley (Robbie Amell) – who just happens to be the football captain and a certified Mr. Popular – for advice on how to shed her DUFFness and catch the eye of her big crush, Toby.

So, yes, it’s a white suburban makeover movie with an outcome that’s never in doubt, but The DUFF is saved by winning performances and a confident self- awareness that trusts its audience enough to aim higher than YA melodramatic angst.

Josh A. Cagan’s script serves up all the teen movie staples, but does so with a lovable wink that never becomes outright parody, while it also manages to touch on some serious issues (cyber-bullying, hurtful stereotypes) with an amusing subtly. Even the overused devices of narration and lessons-I’ve-learned essay writing don’t seem quite so tired here.

Director Ari Sandel provides a lively pace and plenty of visual flair, surrounding Bianca with flashbacks, fantasy sequences and on-screen graphics. Think Mean Girls meets Scott Pilgrim, and you’re in the neighborhood, a pretty fun neighborhood.

Whitman (one of the few bright spots in The Perks of Being a Wallflower) is a treat, and she carries the film with a winning performance that shows a real flair for comic timing. Amell (TV’s The Tomorrow People and The Flash) is just as good, creating a genuine chemistry with Whitman that is perfectly endearing. Rather than the one-note fawning hot boy and the girl with hidden specialness, The DUFF gives us main characters that seem human, and both Whitman and Amell take advantage.

Okay, so maybe it does dip a toe in sentimental waters once or twice, but The DUFF has enough going for it to make it a breezy charmer. And I didn’t even mention the great Alison Janney as Bianca’s mom!

 

Verdict-3-0-Stars

 

Let’s Not Do the Timewarp Again

Hot Tub Time Machine 2

by Hope Madden

Every year or so there’s a film that simply should not work, but does. Machete. Kick-Ass. Hot Tub Time Machine. And every year or so, Hollywood leeches what it can from the fresh, silly, undemanding body of that film with a lifeless and inexplicably mean-spirited sequel. I give you: Hot Tub Time Machine 2.

Lou (Rob Corddry) turned his miserable life around at that ski resort in 2010/1986. Or not. Turns out, Lou is still a big problem in that he’s a toxic asshole, so someone shoots him and it’s up to his remaining friends (Craig Robinson, Clark Duke – John Cusack is noticeably, wisely absent) to fire up the hot tub and stop the murder before it happens.

The fact that the hot tub sends them to the future hardly matters in this lazily scripted semen joke of a film.

Gone entirely, along with Cusack, are the charm and good nature of the original, the light heartedness that offset the darker edges and made the toilet humor and sex jokes almost endearing. It was a nostalgiafest, complete with “I want my two dollars!” shouted at John Cusack from a ski slope. Priceless.

With no such built in fondness for 2025, and Corddry in the lead, the sequel is just a smattering of self-referential gags held together with homophobia and misogyny.

Corddry is a magnificent, unseemly talent, but he’s not a lead. With Lou in the center of the film, rather than the charming, curmudgeonly everyman of Cusack, the movie substitutes an anchor for flailing misanthropy. That’s hard to build on.

The lack of a lead is one of the film’s larger concerns. Corddry, returning time-tripper Craig Robinson, and new 4th wheel Adam Scott are all comic talents, but also all side characters.

With Steve Pink returning to direct another script from Josh Heald, you might think lightning could strike twice, right? No. Let’s be honest, no one thought this film would be any good. We’re all still stunned that the lightweight goofiness of the original was as entertaining as it was. Who knows how that worked, but whatever ingenious, low-brow magic put Crispin Glover (two arms or one) at that ski lodge, it’s missing from the sequel.

But rape jokes are always funny, right?

Verdict-1-5-Stars

Running Down a Dream

McFarland, USA

by George Wolf

Once, during one of my high school cross country meets years ago, a teammate and I were running together when we came upon a runner from another school who had collapsed in pain. As we passed our rival, my teammate looked down at him and unleashed a string of expletives meant to wish him anything but well.

The point is, I wanted to tell that story and reviewing a film about high school cross country seemed the best time to do it.

McFarland, USA, is the latest from Disney’s division of inspiring sports stories, and it’s a perfectly pleasant if unremarkable take on… an inspirational sports story.

In the late 1980s, a high school teacher and coach named Jim White started a cross country team in the small, mostly Hispanic town of McFarland, California. Despite very humble beginnings, the team won the state championship in its very first year and didn’t look back, ultimately becoming a powerhouse program.

It really is a nice underdog tale, and I’m surprised it took this long to get a film adaptation. It comes complete with the “white savior” angle, and an understandable logic in telling it from his point of view. Coach White’s (even his name is tailor made for suburbia!) status as the main character doesn’t hit you like a blind side (pun very much intended) of manipulation, and there are ample opportunities to make salient points about the changing fabric of America.

Though the script isn’t as serious about these issues as it could have been, at least the effort is there, buoyed by some graceful direction from Niki Caro (Whale Rider, North Country). We learn, as the coach does, about a segment of the country that’s often out of sight and out of mind. But as the team comes together and lessons are learned, the film is content to keep the cultural issues broadly drawn, toeing an awkward line between awareness and pandering.

As Coach White, Kevin Costner gives the film exactly the type of rock solid anchor you would expect. Through the periods when the narrative seems less than believable and his supporting cast wavers, Costner’s earnest authenticity provides constant forward momentum. And though Maria Bello’s role is reduced to the obligatory supportive helpmate, she and Costner do manage a sweet chemistry.

A touching introduction to the real people of McFarland, USA ensures the film hits the finish line on a high note, even if the result isn’t quite one for the record books.

 

Verdict-3-0-Stars

 

 

 

 

Spike Lee’s Next Remake

Back in 1973, sandwiched between blaxsploitation classics Blacula and its sequel, Scream Blacula Scream, Philadelphia playwright Bill Gunn quietly released his own Africa-rooted vampire tale, Ganja and Hess. Critically acclaimed yet virtually unseen at the time, the film has been lovingly reanimated by Spike Lee.

Da Sweet Blood of Jesus follows wealthy academic Dr. Hess Green (Stephen Tyrone Williams) through a very life-altering couple of weeks.

As in G&H, Hess suffers an addition to blood after being attacked with one of the ancient African artifacts he collects. He soon falls for his attacker’s brassy ex-wife Ganja (Zaraah Abrahams).

Though Lee’s film is nearly a shot for shot remake of Gunn’s, he wisely cuts and tweaks certain scenes to effectively update themes and improve pacing.

Vampire tales are always metaphorical, and Lee certainly keeps with this tradition. While Gunn’s original used the traditional vampire movie tropes to examine the era’s racial and cultural tensions, Lee’s film grounds the same examination with more modern concerns.

The object of Gunn’s wrath was, among other things, the cultural imperialism of the white majority. Lee puts this on the back burner in favor of more parasitic epidemics. Lee likens the spread of vampirism to irresponsible sex, leaving its own form of neglected children and disease in its wake.

Lee’s version also has a little more sly fun with race relations, injecting the picture with welcome comic relief now and again. Rami Malek, for instance, is an understated hoot as Hess’s uptight, formal butler.

Lee has less luck with the rest of his cast, though.

Gunn’s titular characters – Duane Jones (Night of the Living Dead) and the stunning Marlene Clark – were charismatic romantic leads. Abrahamson has all the swagger but none of the smolder, while Williams lacks the passion and gravitas Jones wielded so naturally.

Williams is the larger problem. The film opens with breathtaking footage of the actor dancing across NYC – his fluidity and grace are gorgeous. His acting, on the other hand, is as rigid and unbreathing as anything you’ll ever see.

There are also simple storyline problems that Lee neglected to address, and without the compelling romantic relationship to distract you, they are more glaring now than they were in ’73.

It’s not Lee’s first or worst misstep with a remake, and Sweet Blood certainly holds up better than his 2013 remake debacle of Chan-wook Park’s classic Oldboy. That film may have suffered from Hollywood entanglements, a problem Lee sidestepped this time around by crowd funding. But his limited budget likely led to actors who were not quite up to the task.

Verdict-2-5-Stars

Brushes With Greatness

Mr. Turner

by George Wolf

Mike Leigh is the best kind of storyteller: visual but never showy, patient and confident in his plan to let a collection of smaller moments resonate as a whole. His films, which include Vera Drake, Secrets & Lies, Happy Go Lucky and Another Year, reveal a natural gift, and Mr. Turner is another impressive entry in his catalogue.

The Mr., specifically, is J.M.W. Turner, widely regarded as the greatest British painter in history. Long before the populism of Kincade, Turner was known as “the painter of light,” with landscape works that many art historians point to as a vital forerunner of Impressionism.

And as is the case with many creative masters, Turner was a bit of an eccentric, and he’s brought to life onscreen through a career-defining performance from Timothy Spall. Known to many audiences as a longtime “that guy,” Spall captivates from the very first scene, making Turner an achingly human mix of God-given talent and curious motivation.

Leigh, who wrote and directed, is savvy enough to avoid trying to cover Turner’s entire biography, and instead settles on the last third of Turner’s life, years that found the artist both enjoying, and running from, his success. Turner’s interactions with his father (Paul Jesson), his housekeeper (a heartbreakingly good Dorothy Atkinson) and his longtime companion (Marion Baily) give us intimate glimpses into a complicated genius.

Cinematographer Dick Pope earns his recent Oscar nomination, providing a naturally beautiful bridge between canvas and reality that Leigh utilizes to perfection. Yes, he constructs various shots as paintings in a frame, but he does so with such a stylish, subtle touch the device never feels forced, and works on an almost subliminal level to enhance the richness of the film’s scope.

A legendary artist and a modern-day filmmaker, both with a calling to find the light, even in the most unlikely places. Kindred spirits? I’m guessing one of them thinks so, and I bet the other is just fine with that.

Verdict-4-0-Stars

Got Wood?

Fifty Shades of Grey

by Christie Robb

Let’s face it, Fifty Shades of Grey is probably not going to be nominated for an Oscar. It’s not the movie you watch for its subtle complexities of character development. It’s a chance to watch two hotties take a naughty little ride to bone town and maybe get some inspiration along the way.

Dakota Johnson as Anastasia Steele delivers, giving the role a bubbly charm that provides the occasional (and much needed) comic relief. However, her costar Jamie Dornan leaves something to be desired. As aloof billionaire Christian Grey, Dornan claims people find him heartless. I found him dull. I’ve seen marital aids with more personality.

And the film desperately needs the chemistry between the two. The plot—nerdy English major battling for the heart of a bachelor CEO while being initiated into the ways of light S&M—is as thin as Christian’s silk tie. This is a story about yearning and longing (and spanking). You gotta have passion.

And what’s with the R rating? There’re surprisingly few sex scenes and a lot of naked Dakota Johnson, but no sign of Dornan’s Johnson. When adapting erotic fiction popular with the ladies, you’d think we’d get to see something more titillating than a butt and a pair of low-slung jeans. Maybe I’m spoiled by premium cable.

Verdict-2-0-Stars

All the Kingsman

Kingsman: The Secret Service

by Hope Madden

Matthew Vaughn and Jane Goldman work well together. The writing/directing team produced two new era superhero movies – Kick-Ass and X-Men: First Class – and now they want to create a new kind of spy movie with Kingsman: The Secret Service.

Based on comics by Mark Millar and Dave Gibbons, their screenplay hips up the old Bond-style gentlemen agent when Code Name: Galahad (a very fit Colin Firth) introduces a talented street kid to the world of espionage.

Eggsy (Taron Egerton) is Galahad’s candidate to join the Kingsmen – a nation-agnostic spy organization as old and as prim as they come. If Eggsy makes it through training and beats the other candidates, he will take his place alongside Galahad as the group’s newest member, Code Name: Lancelot.

Unless, that is, some lisping billionaire (Samuel L. Jackson) takes his super villain role too seriously and ends the world before training is over.

Firth is a charmer and a joy in the mentor role, and though Jackson’s lisp comes and goes, he makes for a fun villain and his odd-couple onscreen chemistry with Firth is priceless. Egerton, who shoulders much of the film, is an effortlessly likeable presence.

But Vaughn is the star of this film. Kingsmen is often vulgar and crass but always fun and sometimes shockingly funny. The whole affair feels a tad like a British version of Kick-Ass: lovable loser turned unexpected hero, affectionate nods to cinematic forebears, brash new ideas taking familiar genre tropes in excitedly sloppy new directions. Aaah, the refreshing chaos of youth.

The comic timing is fresh and the action sequences are a blast There’s one scene in particular of hillbilly church service carnage set to Skynyrd’s redneck classic Free Bird that is magnificent.

Not every joke lands well. Some fly off in crass directions, but none more than the Bond-esque romantic entanglement that finishes the film. It starts off a saucy little homage, turns questionably but forgivably rank, then, quite unfortunately takes that ugly joke two steps further. Maybe you always thought Bond has too much respect for women? This is not that film, bro.

But, you know, leave after that last bit with Jackson and this movie is really good!

Verdict-3-5-Stars