Category Archives: New In Theaters

Reviews of what’s out now

Play It With Feeling

The Piano Lesson

by George Wolf

You can often find ghosts lurking in the plays of August Wilson. His characters work to forge a better future for their families, haunted by the trauma and systemic racism that has beaten them down for generations.

Those themes also define Wilson’s The Piano Lesson, while a vengeful spirit from the past adds a layer of the supernatural to director and co-writer Malcolm Washington’s debut feature.

Malcolm’s brother John David Washington plays Boy Willie, who brings his friend Lymon (Ray Fisher) and a truck full of watermelons to visit his sister Berniece (Danielle Deadwyler) and uncle Doaker (Samuel L. Jackson) in 1936 Pittsburgh.

Boy Willie’s plan is to buy a piece of farm land back home in Mississippi, and all he needs is cash he’ll get from selling all the watermelons…and the family piano sitting in Berniece’s living room.

That second part is going to be a problem.

The piano is an important piece of the family’s history, and we feel its weight thanks to the way these remarkable actors – several of whom also played their roles on Broadway – illuminate Wilson’s wonderful prose. The well-defined living room scenes recall the film’s Pulitzer Prize-winning stage roots, while Malcolm Washington displays understated skill with weaving in more cinematic shades.

Flashbacks to the early 1900s deepen the resonance of what Berniece holds dear, and add to the mystery of the ghost sightings that occur upstairs. Visits from the talented Wining Boy (Michael Potts) spur breaks into song, allowing the musical pieces (and another moving score from Alexandre Desplat) to provide more organic building blocks toward a memorable narrative.

As a strong-but-cautious woman fighting for both her past and her future, Deadwyler is an award-worthy revelation. John David Washington has never been better, managing an impressive balance between Boy Willie’s manic ambition and his sobering reality. Mother and daughter Paulette and Olivia Washington join the ensemble, with Denzel and daughter Katie Washington’s producer credits rounding out the true family affair.

And for a story so deeply rooted in family legacy, that seems only right. The Piano Lesson is played with a committed intensity of feeling, giving a symphony of talent the room to honor its source material with lasting resonance.

Good Evening

My Name Is Alfred Hitchcock

by Matt Weiner

My Name Is Alfred Hitchcock isn’t the first Alfred Hitchcock documentary in the last decade. It’s not even the second prominent one. But this unique take on the director’s entire filmography sets out to show why these movies have not only endured, but continue to speak to audiences—and some of our seamiest impulses.

My Name Is Alfred Hitchcock is a welcome companion piece to the other recent documentaries, falling somewhere between the broad interrogation of 2015’s Hitchcock/Truffaut and the technical hyper-focus of 2017’s 78/52. Writer and director Mark Cousins uses Hitchcock’s “voice” and—more importantly—almost exclusively clips from his films to take a fresh look at the legend.

Thankfully for anyone tackling a feature-length video essay, you’re at a huge advantage when the subject is Alfred Hitchcock. Cousins breaks the documentary up into six key themes, some expected (height, escape) but others taking a surprising metaphysical turn.

It’s hard not to want to dive into a full Hitchcock movie after watching the clips. Especially notable is the amount of time that Cousins devotes to the less usual suspects. There are the silent films and early movies pre-Hollywood, but also plenty of love for techniques in his late films that show him fully in command of his craft.

Even the classics that have been analyzed to death show off new themes. If you want more on the shower, well… there’s an entire movie for that. It was novel to sit with some of the other parts of movies like Psycho or North by Northwest without getting caught up on “that scene.”

The documentary’s strict adherence to showing us “what’s on the page” has some limits, though. Hitchcock’s wife, Alma, gets a section of the movie. But it doesn’t do justice to her role, not just as beloved muse, but extremely influential collaborator. 

And then there’s the voice. Hitchcock gets a writing and voice credit at the start of the film, and it isn’t a spoiler to point out that Alfred Hitchcock is not writing new scripts in this century. The voice belongs to English impressionist Alistair McGowan, who does a solid job sounding equally plummy and put-upon.

But it’s an affectation that wears across the two-hour runtime, especially when it shouldn’t be a surprise reveal to tell the audience that this was just part of the artifice of film. Cousins’ script, plus the exceptionally deep range of highlights, stand on their own without the gimmick. The shots speak for themselves to reveal even more than the voice of the director himself ever could, if you buy into the psychology behind the movies. And Cousins makes a decent case that you should.

You Need Involvement

The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

by George Wolf

It is surprising that it’s taken this long for The Best Christmas Pageant Ever to come to theaters. Well, it’s here now, courtesy of a release date that brings with it some sad irony.

Barbara Robinson’s 1972 children’s novel did get a TV adaptation in ’83 with Loretta Swit and an 11-year-old Fairuza Balk, but now a team of faith-based filmmaking veterans brings the wholesome Holiday message to the big screen with easily digestible intentions.

Beth Bradley (Lauren Graham) is set to direct the latest production of her church’s Annual Christmas Pageant in the small town of Emmanuel. But before beginning auditions, Beth narrates the uplifting story of the town’s 75th pageant, when some misfit kids taught everyone about loving thy neighbor.

Beth takes us back to when she was a child (played by Molly Belle Wright) watching her mother Grace (the always welcome Judy Greer) volunteer to take over the play when longtime director Mrs. Armstrong (Mariam Bernstein) breaks both her legs. The town busybodies aren’t wild about this, especially when Grace allows the six feral Herdman kids to join the cast.

They smoke, cuss, steal and fight, and are often left on their own thanks to a runaway father and a mother working several jobs to get by. The Herdmans wander in to the church looking for snacks, and end up volunteering for the best roles in the play, including the intense Imogene (Beatrice Schneider, a natural) as Mary and wild little Gladys (Kynlee Heiman) as the Angel of the Lord.

Even if you aren’t familiar with the source material, you can probably guess how things turn out and what lessons are learned. Director Dallas Jenkins (“The Chosen” TV series) wraps everything in a nostalgic picture book presentation that recalls A Christmas Story, making sure all the brushstrokes of character, circumstance and humor are broadly drawn and safely conservative. The congregation is predominately white, with women as the sanctimonious busybodies, and the men as patient, understanding elders. Jenkins and his writing team of Platte Clark, Darin McDaniel and Ryan Swanson do manage to squeeze in one nod to a deeper conversation with a reference to the Herdman clan looking “like refugees.”

But remember, this larger-scale Best Christmas Pageant Ever is still aimed at young viewers, and for that target it is serviceable. For adults, the most compelling aspect here is the glaring hypocrisy of so many who will be recommending it. We in America want the children to know what Jesus taught about compassion, charity, inclusion and judging not, and we’ll spend this Christmas season giving plenty of lip service to peace and goodwill. And then we’ll just keep refusing to practice any of that.

Maybe this film could be a small step toward turning things around?

Check the current headlines, and get back to me.

Not So Silent Night

Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point

by George Wolf

So, what happens on Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point?

Murder mystery? Love triangle? A miracle of faith?

No, none of that. Director and co-writer Tyler Taormina is more interested in an observational approach, just letting the night play out as members of different generations prepare for some major life changes in the coming new year.

The Balsano family is gathering in their ancestral home in New York. Drinks are flowing, songs are being sung and young cheeks are being pinched by relations wondering how this little one got so big!

But the adult Balsano kids (including Ben Shenkman, Chris Lazzaro and the always wonderful Maria Dizzia) are realizing this may be the last chance to come home for the holidays. It just might be time to finally put Mom in a senior care facility and sell the family house.

This is a big decision, but teens Emily (Matilda Fleming) and Michelle (Francesca Scorsese) are more concerned with sneaking out to meet their friends (including Eighth Grade‘s Elsie Fisher) for some Christmas break hang out time.

And then there’s Officer Gibson (Michael Cera) and Sergeant Brooks (Greg Turkington), two nearly silent partners who observe the socializing while a shameless bagel thief lurks in the shadows.

The are plenty of characters here, but instead of arcs, Taormina (Ham on Rye, Happer’s Comet) serves up some terrific production design, visual mischief (watch for a wandering cardboard standup attached to a Roomba) and plenty of throwback needle drops to keep the mood festive.

And that’s how this film is able to work on you, through its total commitment to a warm, nostalgic tone. Taormina dedicates it to “the lost,” in hopes they “find their way home” for the season. Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point makes you feel like you’re already there.

Have You Seen This Mollusk?

Memoir of a Snail

by Hope Madden

Adam Elliot is an artist of singular vision. His stop-motion plasticine adventures discard whimsy in favor of almost Dickensian storylines told with eccentricity, dark humor, heartbreak and grit.

Memoir of a Snail trails Grace Pudel (voiced by Succession’s Sarah Snook). Grace is a twin, an orphan, an introvert, and a lover of snails. And as she ages, each one of these labels takes up a deeper, more complicated, more pathological space in her life. The one reliable bright spot is her best friend Pinky (Jacki Weaver), the town oddball (and that’s saying something).

The film begins near its end, as Grace shares her life story with Sylvia, her favorite snail. It’s not a particularly happy tale—in fact, it’s marked by genuine tragedy and haunted with loneliness—but there are moments of joy, and Snook delivers every clever, bittersweet line perfectly.

The voice cast shines, top to bottom. Kodi Smit-McPhee, Nick Cave and Eric Bana deliver the perfect vocal personalities to do justice to the endearingly odd inhabitants of Elliot’s charmingly homely little world.

Elliot’s writing is as impressive as his stop-action artistry. Memoir of a Snail delivers poignant insights and clever gags, astonishing depth of character and well-observed idiosyncrasies.

There’s a real sweetness to the film, and the grimmest possible story turns are delivered with a unique blend of tenderness and bleak humor that’s tough to describe. It’s a tone Elliot’s mastered as evidenced by his Oscar winning 2004 short Harvie Krumpet and brilliant 2009 feature Mary and Max.

Elliot treasures time spent with characters ignored and disregarded in their own worlds. His narratives don’t condescend or judge, and the characters are so wonderfully warts-and-all compelling that you hate to see your time with them come to an end.

Adam Elliot’s world is a darker, drearier spot than the neighborhoods populated by Aardman’s characters. (Sidenote: There’s a new Wallace & Gromit movie this year! Woo hoo!!!) His films are not as silly, their homes not as brightly lit, their cheese selections more limited. But the world Elliot creates—this ranch home on a small street in Canberra, Australia, crammed to bursting with ceramic snails, randy novels, Guinea pigs, and longing—is the flip side of the same plasticine coin. It’s ingenious, moving, hilarious and required viewing.

For the Women’s House

Paint Me a Road Out of Here

by Hope Madden

In the spring of this year, the world lost a fearless, vivid and deeply American voice when Faith Ringgold died at 93.

The artist, author and activist who made sure New York understood that art was political shared her talent in 1971 to inspire the women incarcerated on Rikers Island.  Her painting “For the Women’s House” depicted, in glorious color and bold images, what their future could be, answering the request from one inmate to “paint me a road out of here.”

Director Catherine Gund catches up with that painting 50 years later, creating a parallel between “For the Women’s House” and those incarcerated women with her documentary Paint Me a Road Out of Here.

Ringgold wanted the women incarcerated on Rikers to be able to see a future for themselves without Rikers, without prison, without cages. Gund wants viewers to see a future without mass incarceration.

Gund fills out the narrative with the perspective of a newer voice in the activism and art worlds, Mary Enoch Elizabeth Baxter. In many ways, Baxter carries the torch Ringgold lit. But Baxter lived a life much closer to those of the women in Rikers, and the clarity of that insider’s view defines her art and powerfully influences Gund’s film.

The spine of the movie is the painting’s journey from Rikers to freedom. Like those imprisoned on the island off NY, “For the Women’s House” was subject to inexplicable, bureaucratic, sanctioned carelessness and cruelty that seemed meant specifically to damage it, hide it. The masterpiece worth millions was at one point painted white.

Gund surrounds the fight to free the painting and bring it home to the Brooklyn Museum with archival footage of Ringgold over the years, uncovering her struggle to find recognition. We also witness Baxter’s similar challenges, from helping incarcerated women to create their own inspirational murals to finding her own success in the contemporary art world.

The full picture is one of hope in art, of power in challenging institutions, and of women demanding freedom.

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.