Tag Archives: Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor

New In Theaters

I Can’t Live Without My Radio

Leave a comment

Lucky Strike

by George Wolf

The song that plays over the closing credits of Lucky Strike couldn’t be a more appropriate choice. Co-written by Rod Lurie, who also co-wrote and co-directed the movie, the theme is passionate and well meaning. It is also overwrought and heavy handed.

So again, perfect for this film.

By all accounts, Lurie (The Outpost), co-director Todor Kotzev, co-writer Marc Frydman and their fellow producers have gone to great lengths to ensure this film gets the thumbs up from WWII historians. From the jeeps to the artillery, the terrain and beyond, the clear aim of the production was to create an authentic bridge between recorded history and battlefield reality.

And on the note, Lucky Strike hits the mark. An authentic feel for the characters being developed proves a much harder target.

Scott Eastwood takes the lead as Capt. John Castle, who in December 1944 is ordered by his superior (Colin Hanks in a brief cameo) to oversee the blockade of a road in the Ardennes forest often used by German soldiers.

Castle and his team come under heavy fire, eventually leaving John and his invaluable radio “Lassie” – which will become even more valued later on – alone behind enemy lines.

Based on true events from the legendary Battle of the Bulge, the film becomes one man’s journey of commitment and survival, as Castle sets out on the 30km trek to safety in Elsenborn, Belgium.

As correct as all the details may be, the writing and direction never miss the opportunity to overplay a hand. Despite some tense and well orchestrated one-shot action sequences, much of the dialog lacks nuance, the editing and reaction shots continually aim for the back row, a third act twist isn’t hard to see coming, and there’s even the inclusion of an actual pale horse (apparently ridden by subtlety).

Eastwood shoulders a big load but doesn’t show the family gift of understatement, and cannot elevate any of this material. Only the great Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, as a grieving mother in some touching bookend scenes with Eastwood, can give the film a fleeting layer of humanity.

Lucky Strike needed more of that. There’s plenty to respect here on a technical and historical level, but any true emotional connection is lost in the wilderness.

New In Theaters

Perspective

Leave a comment

Nickel Boys

by Hope Madden

You’ve never seen a film quite like RaMell Ross’s Nickel Boys. The filmmaker, with an inspired Jomo Fray behind the camera, delivers a visual poem of tragedy, resilience and American history.

Ross, along with Joslyn Barnes, adapts Colson Whitehead’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel, but brings such human and humane treatment that the nonfiction roots cannot be ignored. Whitehead wrote about the Dozier School for Boys—the same American institution that fueled Tananarive Due’s horror novel, Reformatory. But Ross does not mine the institution’s 110-year history of dehumanization, abuse and murder for horror. Instead, he shows us how powerful that evil was by allowing us to see it through the eyes of two best friends.

You might find point-of-view filmmaking in bursts in other films—Michael Myers watching his sister through the eye holes of his Halloween costume, for example. But Ross never deviates, never leaves the most intimate and personal perspective of the events unfolding. His camera represents either the view from Elwood’s (Ethan Herisse) own eyes, or his best friend Turner’s (Brandon Wilson).

Elwood’s a good kid, smart, kind, and devoted to his grandmother (Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) and we see what he sees in lyrical bursts: a party in his childhood, his grandmother praying for him, successes and trials at school, an opportunity to begin college while he’s still in high school, the approach of white police officers, incarceration, the first small piece of kindness offered by a fellow teenage inmate.

And then, for the first time, we truly see Elwood because the camera becomes that one friend, Turner. This is not Turner’s first run-in with the law. He’s begrudgingly protective of the innocent Elwood. 

The perspective shift, the elements of Whitehead’s novel that made it seem too difficult to adapt, becomes Nickel Boys’ greatest strength. You cannot watch this film and distance yourself from the injustices or from the small joys. This remarkable subjective intimacy is what made Ross’s documentaries so magical and moving—you come away with a personal relationship with the film and its subject because you have born witness as the subject.

Wilson, Herisse and Ellis-Taylor guarantee that the style is more than gimmick, bringing their characters so tenderly to life that their story will devastate you. The story of a school that dehumanized and murdered Black young men for over 100 years should do that.

New In Theaters

Hiding in Plain Sight

Leave a comment

Origin

by George Wolf

Origin is so loaded with theories, facts and history, you may wonder why writer/director Ava DuVernay didn’t just make the film a documentary. After all, 2016’s 13th showed DuVernay can certainly command the genre.

I’m guessing she gives us the answer with a telling line of dialog: “Real people, real things.”

The main character, Isabel Wilkerson, is a real, extraordinary person, and author of the source book, “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontent.” And the film works as well as it does because of how well DuVernay unveils both the results of Wilkerson’s work and the personal journey that made it possible.

Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor’s tremendous turn as Wilkerson doesn’t hurt, either.

We first meet Wilkerson shortly after the news of Trayvon Martin’s murder first breaks. The Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist is looking to take some time off to care for her elderly mother, but her colleagues (Blair Underwood, Vera Farmiga) are hoping she can address the issue in print.

Even Wilkerson’s husband Brett (a wonderful Jon Bernthal) thinks she’s happier working, but Isabel is hesitant.

“I don’t write questions, I write answers,” she explains. And Isabel finds many lingering questions in the Martin murder, the Charlottesville tragedy, and the increasing drumbeat of fascism in America. Her mind is restless, because while racism is a symptom, using it as “a primary language to understand everything isn’t sufficient.”

But as Isabel suffers heartache and loss in her personal life, she researches history in Germany, India, and America’s Deep South to find the connective tissue she sought – caste systems perpetuated through unending violence until they’re accepted as the natural order.

DuVernay utilizes Wilkerson’s classroom presentations, conversations with her cousin Marion (Niecy Nash, terrific) and fact-finding interviews as sufficiently organic vehicles for flashback. The history lessons are rife with discovery and heartbreak, and compelling enough to keep a firm grip on your attention.

There are flashbacks to Isabel’s personal history as well, including a look at her relationship with Brett that is tender, funny and poignant, buoyed by the sweet chemistry between Ellis-Taylor and Bernthal.

And though the third act can get especially lecture heavy, the material works as a narrative whole because DuVernay finds her own layer of tissue that connects us to both the real people and the real things.

The cycle of trauma -be it personal or systemic – can only be broken by confronting it. Origin confronts it with questions and answers, humanity and inhumanity, in ways compelling enough to change the very way we look at the world around us.