Category Archives: Outtakes

Movie-related whatnot

Scrolling in the Deep

Swiped

by George Wolf

2012, what a time to be young and upwardly mobile. Barack Obama was re-elected, “Gangnam Style” seemed to burst from every speaker, and Facebook’s IPO made social media technology the new capitalist battleground.

But when we first meet a young Whitney Wolfe – the future founder of Bumble – she’s a whip-smart, idealistic young woman looking for a tech startup that would easily connect volunteers to orphanages in need. Hulu’s Swiped presents her shift into dating apps as a dizzying, formulaic ride through ambition, greed, traumatic harassment and well-earned triumph.

Lily James is perfect in the lead. Wolfe’s seduction by the rush of the tech boom, and by her quick rise up the ladder at the firm launching Twitter, seems authentic. Whitney is well aware of how male-dominated the tech industry is, and when she initially puts aside some micro aggressions for a continued belief in CEO Sean Rad (Ben Schnetzer), James gives Whitney enough layers to craft a sympathetic internal conflict.

Director and co-writer Rachel Lee Goldenberg (Unpregnant, 2020’s Valley Girl) strikes a tone and pace that can feel rushed among the recognizable time stamp. These online rules “were written by men,” and Twitter’s explosion at the Winter Olympics ushers in the era of toxic behavior and dick pics. Wolfe’s subsequent push for some app safeguards at the same time her relationship with a fellow Tinder founder (Jackson White) is crumbling makes her a target.

The abuse gets intense, and sexual harassment charges follow.

An NDA eventually signed by Wolfe (now Wolfe-Herd) meant she couldn’t directly consult on the film – and Goldenberg makes it clear she did indeed take creative license – but Swiped paints an effective big picture. Could it have dug deeper? Most definitely, but you never get the feeling that it wants to explore any of the larger “social commodity” issues confronted by Celine Song’s Materialists from earlier this year, or the intricate empire building of 2010’s seminal The Social Network.

The aim here is an entertaining streamer, one that will engage with energy and polish while it introduces you to a hero from the tech wars that you may not know. And though you really won’t know her after watching Swiped, you’ll get a version of her story that’s always watchable, just never a match for memorable social commentary.

In and Out

Just Breathe

by Brooklyn Ewing

Given the chance to see actor Kyle Gallner in a movie, I will always flock to it. Gallner’s ability to make someone fall in and out of love with a character is something special. In Just Breathe, he brings his A game.

Directed by newcomer Paul Pompa III, Just Breathe offers up a game of cat and mouse that keeps you guessing, and yelling at the screen. 

After serving a year in jail for assault, Nick Bianco (Gallner) sets out to reunite with the love of his life, Mel (Amyri Crutchfield). He discovers that she has a new admirer named Chester (Shawn Ashmore), who also happens to be Nick’s parole officer, setting off his anger issues all over again.

Just Breathe sees William Forsythe’s return to the screen as Tony, Nick’s deadbeat dad. Forsythe brings so much life to this rough and tumble character. I loved to hate him. 

Gallner and Crutchfield are great together, and watching them makeup and breakup keeps you praying their relationship can survive Chester’s romantic, and offbeat, advances. 

Fans of traditional Lifetime movies will love this one, and it has the polish to hit the big screen. The acting is the star of this thriller, and I’m excited for folks to see it so we can all talk about how much we hate Chester together. 

Just Breathe is another Kyle Gallner classic to add to the collection. Make sure to give it a watch. 

Scenes from the Opioid Epidemic

What We Hide

by Hope Madden

At 19, Mckenna Grace has racked up 71 TV and film acting credits, with 11 more movies currently in post-production. That’s insane. Naturally not every project was a winner. But from her earliest film work, like Marc Webb’s 2017 drama Gifted, Grace’s control and authenticity make her memorable, even when the projects are not.

Writer/director Dan Kay’s streamer What We Hide benefits immeasurably from Grace’s presence. She plays Spider, 15-year-old daughter of an addict. With her younger sister Jessie (Jojo Regina), Spider discovers the overdosed corpse of her mother in the opening moments of the film.

Recognizing that foster care would almost certainly mean splitting her from her sister, Spider decides to hide the body and say nothing. Now all the girls have to do is steer clear of their mom’s volatile dealer (Dacre Montgomery), the town’s goodhearted sheriff (Jesse Williams), and the latest case worker, whom they not-so-affectionately call “Baby Thief” (Tamara Austin).

Grace is terrific, and the chemistry she shares with Regina buoys some otherwise clunky dialog. The cast around them does admirable work with even more obvious characters. The always welcome Forrest Goodluck (Revenant, Blood Quantum, How to Blow Up a Pipeline) carries love interest Cody with a naturalism that gives his scenes an indie vibe that comes close to offsetting the after school special tenor delivered by the rest of the effort.

Commendable performances from a solid cast don’t make up for Kay’s uninspired direction. Bland framing marries banal plotting to leech some of the vibrance this cast injects into scenes.

It doesn’t help that the story veers so rarely from the obvious that the occasional flash of originality—the couple from the motel, the case worker’s phone calls—stand out as opportunities left unexplored.

Had Kay been able to situate his tale from the opioid epidemic in a recognizable place, given the community some personality, or found a less by-the-book way to complicate What We Hide, he might have had something. Instead, the film is a well-intentioned waste of a good cast.

High in the Middle

Eenie Meanie

by Hope Madden

Remember how great Cleveland looked in Superman? Writer/director Shawn Simmons takes us back to The Land, as well as to Toledo, for his thriller set among Ohio’s low rent criminal underbelly, Eenie Meanie.

It’s not exactly as tourism friendly as Superman.

Samara Weaving is Edie, and when we meet her, she’s really struggling to make something of her life. A day job as a bank clerk, night classes, maxed out credit cards, bleary nights studying. And then her one mistake—she stops by to share some news with her ex, John (Karl Glusman, The Bikeriders, Watcher).

But John’s gotten himself into some trouble. And try as she might to leave him and his trouble behind, the semi-fatherly crime lord she used to work for (Andy Garcia, delightful) will kill John unless Edie saves him. And to do that, she falls back on some old skills as a getaway driver in a big score.

Simmons has crafted a fun, twisty, funny thriller full of sharp turns. Weaving effortlessly carries the film as the tenderhearted badass who knows better. Glusman is infuriatingly excellent as that epic dumbass you want to smack but can’t help but hug. And maybe also smack.

Solid support from Garcia, Steve Zahn, Mike O’Malley, and Randall Park fills every scene with laughs, pathos, violence, and fun. But it’s the sly way Simmons braids together tales of co-dependence, trauma, loyalty, and resilience that gives Eenie Meanie unexpected heft.

Weaving has proven her genre moxie again and again (Ready or Not, Mayhem, The Babysitter, Guns Akimbo, Azrael), so it comes as no surprise that she brings the goods as the lead in an action comedy thriller. What’s impressive is the honesty and the genuine emotional conflict she expresses within this relationship.

She and Glusman revel in the dysfunction, played for exasperated laughs in the early going. But as Simmons tale develops, unveiling more of their relationship and backstory, that same chemistry takes on a relevance and power that allows Eenie Meanie to deliver a climax more powerful than you might expect.

Bagheads

We’re Not Safe Here

by Hope Madden

The nightmarish images and unsettling sound design of writer/director Solomon Gray’s We’re Not Safe Here more than make up for its narrative stumbles.

A lot of films open on a scene of horror to be contextualized later in the movie. Likewise, Solomon sets the stage early with a swift, troubling little gem of a horror show. But interestingly, the tale he builds around it taps into a terror more subconscious and dreamlike than what you might expect.

Sharmita Bhattacharya is Neeta, a schoolteacher by day/artist by night who’s been unable to get started on her latest painting. Frustrated at the easel one night, she’s surprised by a visit from Rachel (Hayley McFarland), another teacher who’s been missing. Frantic and increasingly panicked, Rachel spills a story that began in her childhood. Something she thought she’d lost has found her again.

Aside from some very intimidating figures wearing bloody pillowcases over their heads (creepy!), We’re Not Safe Here is primarily a two-person show. McFarland is masterful, her paranoid madness tipped with a teacher’s command of the room. She’s mesmerizing.

Bhattacharya struggles a bit. Neeta is also troubled, and the performance feels stiff and unsure until the character gives into her demons. But there are moments between the two of them that are deeply upsetting. I mean that in a good way.

Gray’s use of setting—Neeta’s home, every wall cluttered with her sketches and paintings, every surface littered with books—creates a busy, fascinating space rich with potentially spookiness. A meandering camera and effective sound design capitalizes on what the set design has crafted: a lovingly lived-in space turned suddenly suspicious. The filmmaker evokes a kind of paranoia that feeds the perfect atmosphere for his film.

There’s a looseness to the script that often serves the film’s maniacal undercurrent. What’s delusion? What’s really happening? And is it contagious?

Gray refuses to fit all the pieces together, a choice that mostly pays off. The act structure and finale are rigid enough to give the tale a feel of completion. While a lingering vagueness in the backstory is frustrating, it also allows the imagination to veer into its own halls of madness.

On a Mission from God

Shaman

by Hope Madden

Director Antonio Negret and writer Daniel Negret have something interesting to say. Unfortunately, they can’t find a consistently interesting way to say it with their latest film, Shaman.

The film shadows an American Catholic missionary family working with an Ecuadorian priest in a mountain village. Candice (Sara Canning) teaches catechism and English, and she and husband Joel (Daniel Gillies) help Father Meyer (Alejandro Fajardo) with baptisms, school and church maintenance, and they serve meals to the community.

Out playing with his friends, preadolescent son Elliot (Jett Klyne) enters a cave, though warned by the two locals he hangs out with. He comes home carrying something much older than Jesus.

Candice notices immediately and blames the shaman who lives in the mountains, while Joel scolds her to stop giving them power they don’t have. Meantime, with something afflicting her own family, Candice finds that her own faith may be more of a false front, a façade of superiority and benevolence.

What is weird about Shaman is that both Klyne and Canning co-starred in Brandon Christensen’s 2019 possession horror Z, a film where a mother watches helpless as something ugly takes hold of her innocent son (Klyne).

At times, the atmosphere Negret creates offers a subtle but worthwhile change in the missionary horror of the past, which told of either a white savior discovering primitive evil, or in more recent years, a white savior who is, in fact, the evil. Negret combines the two tropes in ways that are sometimes provocative, sometimes predictable, sometimes tone deaf.

Solid performances all around, plus gorgeous locations and some genuine surprises elevate the proceedings, but the pace is slow, the FX are weak, and the story too often falls prey to the cliché it’s trying to expose.  (They also don’t get any of the Catholic stuff right. There, I said it.)

Drunkula!

Weary of the nightly chase for a meal, a vampire begins picking drunks off at last call in a neighborhood pub. Though it makes it easier to acquire a meal, eventually the blood alcohol content gets to him.

Behind the Scenes!

Prey for Her

Saint Clare

by Adam Barney

Clare (Bella Thorne, The Babysitter) is a college student who believes she is on a mission from God. Blessed with visions, she hunts down the men who prey on the women in her small town. Detective Timmons (Ryan Phillippe, Cruel Intentions, MacGruber) grows suspicious of her extra-curricular activities as she keeps turning up in the wrong places.

Guided by the ghost of Mailman Bob (Frank Whaley, Pulp Fiction), the first man she inadvertently killed, Clare begins to connect the dots on who’s behind the growing number of local women who have gone missing. Bob is a messenger from the beyond and he seeks to keep Clare centered on her righteous path of vengeance.

Saint Clare is based on the YA novel Clare at Sixteen by Don Ruff. A quick search yields book reviews that frequently compare the Clare Bleecker series to Dexter, the popular show that is still churning out sequel and spin-off seasons. It’s easy to see why – Clare is a serial killer who only pursues other killers and she has conversations with a dead person from her past who acts as her conscious.

Thorne delivers a solid performance as the melancholy Clare, but the rest of the film around her is tonal mess. It really feels like a pilot episode with the season finale tacked on as the final fifteen minutes. There are a lot of story threads and elements, like a goofy school play, that are introduced but dumped quickly in favor of rushing toward the ending. The film is uninterested in exploring its own central mystery of the missing women, Clare is simply propelled to the wrong doers by convenience. 

Co-writer and director Mitzi Peirone (Braid) provides a few moments that visually pop as the world around Clare becomes more colorful and otherworldly, but they are too few and far in between.

Saint Clare never quite picks a lane. It’s a revenge tale without a strong motive, it’s a mystery that isn’t remotely interested in the investigation, and it’s a supernatural fable that is too grounded and serious for its own good.

De”FIN”itive

Jaws @ 50: The Definitive Inside Story

by George Wolf

You may have heard Jaws celebrated its fiftieth anniversary last month. The celebrations and remembrances, the memes and mementos have been joyous fun, reminding us of a landmark film that changed the landscape of the movies.

And now, like the fashionably late party guest everyone was waiting for, comes Jaws @ 50: The Definitive Inside Story. Streaming concurrently on Hulu, Disney + and the National Geographic channel, the film serves up a boatload of BTS goodness that fans will wish was twice as big as the 88-minute running time.

At the heart of director Laurent Bouzereau’s deep dive is the time spent with director Steven Spielberg. His approach to adapting the book for the screen, his tales of how the shoot went months behind schedule, how there was real doubt that it could even be completed, and the PTSD that followed him into his filmmaking future are all completely captivating. Looking back, he still seems amazed that they pulled it off, and Bouzereau finds an effective contrast between Spielberg remembering what went wrong and famous fans such as Quentin Tarantino, Jordan Peele, Guillermo del Toro, Steven Soderbergh and more lavishing praise about what went right.

The Martha’s Vineyard location and its unique citizenry become characters themselves, but of course its Bruce the mechanical shark that always steals the show – for better or worse. Fifty years later, you’re glad that CGI wasn’t around in the summer of 1974, as Bruce’s “less is more” performance still holds up every time.

From the cast members to the score to the USS Indianapolis monolog to the film’s effect on studio production, marketing and even shark conservation, Jaws @ 50: The Definitive Inside Story covers just about every angle you’re hoping for. It is the perfect exclamation point to this month long birthday celebration.

I just wonder why the “fin” in Definitive isn’t capitalized.

I don’t find that funny. I don’t find that funny at all.

Never mind, then.

The Mushy Middle

The Old Guard 2

by George Wolf

Look, it’s just science. You get a glimpse of Uma Thurman and Charlize Theron in a sword fight, you get your hopes up. I did, hopeful that The Old Guard 2 on Netflix could match – or maybe even exceed the fun of the original.

But while it is a blast to see those two bad asses in a blade battle, it’s too little too late in a sequel that gets bogged down in speeches, heavy meaningful glances, and plans for the future of this group of immortals.

It also really helps to have seen part one, or at least be familiar with the graphic novels by Greg Rucka and Leandro Fernández. They’re both back as co-writers, with director Victoria Mahoney taking over for Gina Prince-Bythewood. They put the now-mortal Andy (Theron) and her crew (including Kiki Layne, Chiwetel Ejiofor and Matthias Schoenaerts) on a collision course with the long-lost Quynh (Veronica Neo) – who returned at the close of part one after centuries locked in an Iron Maiden.

Andy also has a new friend, Tuah (Henry Golding) who speaks a lot about legends, lore, and the power of Discord (Uma), the original immortal who rescued Quynh as part of a nefarious plan.

This veteran cast looks a bit lost amid the bright neon palettes, plodding dialog and awkwardly choreographed fight sequences. Mahoney never really lets the fun in, returning to tired blocking and exposition dialog every time you think we’re finally gonna get cooking.

And just when you’re wondering what the point of this sequel is…you find out.

Mild spoiler ahead.

This is a just a bridge to the next chapter. And when that works in a film series, it’s because the bridge also supports its own story arc, one that leaves you satisfied while still wanting to follow these characters into the future.

The Old Guard 2 just leaves you frustrated on all counts, with nothin’ mister but boring stories of the glory days.