Screening Room: Scoob, Capone, Vast of Night, Fourteen, Monstrum
Long Distance Dedication
The Vast of Night
by George Wolf
The Vast of Night wastes no time in transporting you to another world.
Opening with vintage Rod Serling welcoming us to “Paradox Theatre,” director Andrew Patterson unveils an incredibly polished debut, one that’s full of meticulous craftsmanship, effective pacing and wonderfully engaging storytelling.
Picture the small town of Cayuga, New Mexico in the 1950s. As the gymnasium stands are filling up for the night’s big high school basketball matchup, a smooth-talking radio DJ and a wholesome teen have stumbled onto something very, very big.
Fay Crocker (Sierra McCormick) is filling in for the local telephone operator as WOTW’s nighttime show with Everett “The Maverick” Sloan (Jake Horowitz) playing in the background. But a strange transmission is also coming through the radio, and Fay lets Everett know about it.
Everett opens the mic to ask if any of his “five listeners” can identify the sound, and Billy (Bruce Davis) calls in with a mighty big story to tell. Mabel (Gail Cronaur) has one, too, leading Everett and Fay off into the New Mexico night to search for answers.
Peterson’s commitment to production and sound design results in a totally immersive experience. The period details – from costumes to recording equipment – are more than just historically correct. Paired with the rapid-fire, comfortably lived-in dialog from screenwriters James Montague and Craig W. Sanger, they create a throwback setting that charms without the tell of undue effort.
Peterson also flexes confidently behind the camera, moving from extended tracks to slow pans to quiet stills, all in service of the film’s wondrous tone. With McCormick and Horowitz leading a stellar ensemble, what could have been a generic sci-fi time filler becomes a smart parable with an eerie grip.
The Vast of Night is a film about listening. To each other, to the stars, to the ugly secrets of our past and to the great possibilities of our future.
And speaking of the future, Andrew Patterson has a bright one.
Rescue Me
Fourteen
by Hope Madden
Mara (Tallie Medel) and Jo (Norma Kuhling) make an odd couple, or so says Mara’s one-time dinner date who remembers the pair of best friends from high school. Mara’s quiet, no-fuss. And Jo?
“She’s cutting.”
In fact, Mara and Jo resemble any number of very real relationships, those that maneuver childhood and the dramatic complexities of adolescence to settle into something adult that may not be sustainable.
Jo is flashy, passionate, needy. Mara is level-headed and supportive. Dan Sallitt’s understated character study Fourteen picks up their relationship somewhere into adulthood and follows it from Mara’s point of view with a detached but caring comment on how life, responsibility and surrender finally look.
Matter-of-fact performances eliminate any hint of melodrama as Fourteen wades through a series of the duo’s scenarios across about a decade. The performers’ delivery and the director’s style undercut any artifice, nearly every scene focused exclusively on a conversation, most of which feel improvisational.
It offers a loose but relentless progression, a regrettable erosion focused on growing up and growing apart, caring for each other and caring for yourself.
Sallitt rarely focuses squarely on big moments. Jo’s breakdowns and histrionics remain almost entirely off screen, and what we see is Mara’s inevitable response as well as quietly significant moments: the first dinner with a new boyfriend, a trip back home for a timely visit.
The progression of time told in haircuts and apartments is handled more gracefully in Fourteen than what you might expect, but again, Sallitt’s style is not showy. More than the visual backdrop to mark a new era, it’s Medel and Kuhling’s recognizable reacquaintance, first halting then quickly entrenched in familiar patterns: this is who we are.
Medel’s performance, aided by her enormous eyes, is deceptively compelling. As the friend less likely to draw notice (she mentions at one point that, in Jo’s presence, she sometimes feels as if she’s not even there), she’s comfortable in the background. At the same time, Mara is clearly and constantly observing, making a mental note, internally balancing what’s best for Jo versus what’s best for herself.
Kuhling is a bit weaker, her believable amalgamation of tics in early scenes do not translate well to her climactic breakdown, which at times feels like a student actor’s workshop.
It’s a minor flaw, though, in a film that feels quietly courageous in its interest in one of life’s great heartbreaks.
I Can’t Go Out—Week of May 11
Coupla decent options in traditional home viewing. What are you going with?
Click the film title to link to the full review.
The Photograph
Birds of Prey (DVD)
Monster Mash
Monstrum
by Hope Madden
Very little in life brings me joy quite like a decent creature feature. Even the silly ones where a big, boil-riddled muppet winds up slathering pus leakage all over Korean mountain people in the 1500s.
Especially those.
Hun Jong-ho’s new import takes us back to 1506, a time when the king is beset by troubles: his disloyal prime minister, a plague across the land. That is a lot for one man to handle, and an even larger load once his most loyal guard, Yoon Gyeom (Kim Myong-min), abandons him to save a little girl’s life.
Fast forward a decade or so and strife still divides the nation, but that strife has a new name: Monstrum.
But is that monster really there? Or is it all just a figment of mass hysteria planted by a conniving prime minister? The sleuthing sets up a clever-enough through line and the deception creates space for plenty of gory action sequences.
Jong-ho’s story, which he penned along with Byeon Jeong-uk and Heo-dam, offers a relatively simple “the people have the power” narrative elevated by some nice set pieces and a handful of choice performances.
Myong-min cuts a properly heroic figure: quiet, savvy, handy in a fight. Kim In-kwan makes the perfect sidekick, his comedic moments (though often anachronistic) offer welcome moments of levity.
With K-pop’s Lee Hye-ri (of the band Girl Day), Jong-ho delivers a little 16th century girl power via one spunky adolescent who’s smart, capable, irreverent and fearless. (Another anachronism? Probably, but again, it’s a movie with a giant, pus-dripping puppet. You came looking for realism?)
And hey, who’s that handsome young man beguiled by Hye-ri’s badassedness? It’s Parasite’s Choi Woo-sik, charming as ever.
The film looks great, thanks in part to some exceptional costuming but mainly to cinematographer Kim Dong-Yeon’s capable maneuvering through interiors and exteriors, false backdrops and lushly wooded hills.
Monstrum is no masterpiece—go in expecting The Host and come out disappointed. But for creature feature fun and just a touch of flatulence humor, Monstrum delivers.
An Eye for Style
The Times of Bill Cunningham
by Brandon Thomas
In 1994, rookie producer Mark Bozek sat down with New York Times fashion and street photographer, Bill Cunningham. The casual chat about an award Cunningham was receiving was supposed to only be a quick 10-minute in and out.
The interview didn’t end until the tape in Bozek’s camera ran out.
Twenty-five years after conducting this interview, Bozek makes his feature documentary debut with The Times of Bill Cunningham. Less a look or critique of the New York fashion scene, Bozek’s interest is sharply focused on the unassuming Cunningham.
Bozek uses the ample footage at his disposal to let Cunningham share his thoughts and insights about his life and career. Cunningham’s almost child-like zeal for his work comes across as both disarming and curious all at once. From his beyond-modest “apartment” in the old Carnegie Hall Studios building, to his uniquely un-chic wardrobe consisting mainly of hand-me-downs, Cunningham wasn’t your typical New York fashion figure.
As the layers peel back more and more, Bezok is able to capture and celebrate Cunningham’s genuine kindness — whether that be his enthusiasm for catching people “as they are” on the street, or the financial support he showed a friend who was fighting a losing battle with the AIDS virus.
Peppered throughout the film are many of Cunningham’s photos. The juxtaposition of these wonderful photographs with his animated interview makes for an appreciative experience. Many of these photos were splashed across Cunningham’s weekly spread in the New York Times. A few gems, however, were never published during Cunningham’s storied career.
Sparse narration by Sarah Jessica Parker (Sex and the City) provides needed connective tissue and context. It’s one thing to take Cunningham’s word for it, but highlighting his accomplishments in the broader fashion world is a poignant statement on how important he was to the fashion industry and to New York City itself.
Documentaries focused on one individual aren’t new. Specific filmmakers, politicians, and athletes have all received this treatment. What’s so different, and enthralling about The Times of Bill Cunningham is how much Cunningham gets to speak for himself. It’s an honest, unfiltered look at a man that did what he loved — and did it well.
Gangster Lean
Capone
by Hope Madden
What a nutty idea.
You’ve seen Capone on film: films about him, films containing him, films about gangsters reminiscent of him. A lot of these movies have been great – some of them classic. But you have never seen Alphonse Capone the way writer/director Josh Trank sees him.
Wisely, Trank realized Tom Hardy would be able to translate his vision.
There are moments, especially early in the film, where Hardy and Trank seem to be conjuring Vito Corleone (Hardy has always carried the same dangerous charisma of Brando, anyway). But it doesn’t take long before the role defines itself as something we truly have not seen before.
The film focuses on the final year of the infamous mobster’s life—the adult diapers and dementia year. He’s served his prison term for tax evasion, the syphilis he contracted in his youth has taken its toll on his mind and body, and his money is quickly evaporating.
Maybe he’s hidden $10 million somewhere. Maybe he’s just nuts.
Trank’s loose narrative is less concerned with the scheming, criss-crossing and backstabbing from underlings trying to find the money than it is with Capone’s deterioration, and that’s what makes this film so gloriously odd.
There is a grotesque humor underlying many of these scenes. Trank doesn’t ask you to sympathize with this notorious villain, nor does he revel in his decrepitude. But he definitely explores it, and that’s a brave decision. Many a mobster film fanatic will be annoyed by this glimpse into the post-badass years, but defying expectations is something Capone does early and often.
If Trank doesn’t trade in sympathy, we can still expect Hardy to generate empathy. As is characteristic of every performance in his career, Tom Hardy finds the faulty humanity in this character. His depiction of Capone’s confusion is unerringly human, and in his hands Trank’s macabre humor never feels like mockery.
Linda Cardellini flexes more in the role of Capone’s wife Mae than she has in her many other turns as put-upon spouse. She’s a great sparring partner for Hardy, and their volatile but ultimately tender relationship creates a needed grounding for a film so busy with the shadowy unreality of a diseased mind.
Because of the borderline surreal nature of a film told from the point of view of a man in the throes of dementia, it’s often tough to suss out the reality of the events onscreen. This generally works, but there are certainly moments—generally those inserted to give us stepping stones of a plot–that seem stiffly ill placed.
Thankfully, Hardy’s there to command your attention. No doubt some viewers will be disappointed—those who tuned in to see Hardy play a badass at the top of his game. My guess is that the reason one of the finest actors working today was drawn to Capone was the opportunity to do something just this unexpected.
Screening Room: Streaming Movies, May 8
Hindsight 2020
Capital in the Twenty-First Century
by George Wolf
You want to understand the economic mess we’re in? Simple. It all comes down to horses and board games.
Wut?
Watch Capital in the Twenty-First Century, and more than just vague analogies will come into startling focus.
New Zealand filmmaker Justin Pemberton has assembled an array of scholars and historians (including Thomas Piketty, author of the source book) for a 103-minute presentation that is so informative, measured and concise it should earn you college credits.
There are graphs, illustrations and pop culture snippets from film and television that Pemberton weaves throughout the lecture material to attract the eye and boost the film’s overall entertainment value. But make no mistake, his mission is about breaking down the 400 years of history that explain the social and economic precipice we’re teetering on right now.
The breakdown is an accomplishment in itself, but Pemberton and his scholars never condescend or confuse, bringing an immeasurable value to the medium delivering this invaluable message.
And while some of the lessons are not new (i.e. we need a strong middle class) the context here is so vivid and relevant many observations may land with an echo of “eureka!” inside your head.
The history of nations carrying staggering wealth inequality and stagnant social mobility is not pleasant, but the ironic timing of Pemberton’s film helps fuel the hope that total socio-economic collapse may still be avoided.
The key lies in totally re-shaping the way a population thinks, which historically has only been achieved through seismic cultural shifts such as a war or a depression.
Or a pandemic?
We’ll see, but by the time Capital in the Twenty-First Century is done telling you about the horses and the board games, there will be little doubt why the “job creators” are so anxious to give us the business.
Persona Non Grata
Clementine
by Matt Weiner
A woman trespassing in a cabin in the woods tends to foretell a very different kind of film than Clementine’s smart, sensual coming-of-age story.
But writer and director Lara Jean Gallagher’s feature debut, while exploring the relationships that make (and break) us, also doesn’t spare the menace lurking just beneath the surface. Maybe it’s the remote cabin in the woods vibe, but it’s also in large part due to the beautiful gauzy shots of the Pacific Northwest from cinematographer Andres Karu that manage to feel always just on the cusp of sliding from languid daydream to nightmare.
Gallagher brings the same inseparable emotions to the story. When Karen (Otmara Marrero) flees Los Angeles and a toxic relationship to break into her ex’s cabin in Oregon, she discovers that she’s not the only interloper in the area. A young aspiring actress Lana (Sydney Sweeney) is also crashing at a nearby house, but quickly finds herself drawn to Karen, open to either validation or love, but undecided on which would be more important.
Their relationship starts out relatively chaste, with Karen still smarting from her breakup and wary about the age gap between her and Lana. Driven by a powerful and nuanced performance from Sweeney, Lana’s mix of aloofness and desire turns even the slightest touch into a highly charged event that seems to stop time.
There are the aching moments between Karen and Lana as the two bond over heartbreak and trauma. But the sharpest emotional insight that Gallagher brings to her tightly crafted coming-of-age story is to structure it as a psychological drama—one that gets increasingly fraught as the two women push and pull each other into their respective lives.
It makes perfect sense though. Trying to discover who we are as teenagers was horrifying enough, but Karen is an unsettling reminder that learning from these mistakes is an imperfect, lifelong process. The thought that adolescence can be a terror not so removed from Hitchcock is a sobering realization. That we might continue to repeat these traumas, and enact them on the ones we love most, is a horrifying one.
