Tag Archives: Cooper Hoffman

Walk This Way

The Long Walk

by Hope Madden

How fitting that Stephen King’s capitalist dystopian nightmare The Long Walk has finally been brought to the screen by director Francis Lawrence. Having helmed four Hunger Games films, including the most recent prequel, The Hunger Games: Ballad of Sonbirds & Snakes, he knows his way around these battles for what crumbs the wealthy deign to throw.

Based on King’s 1979 novel, the film follows a group of young men, each of whom signed up for and were chosen to participate in a last man standing competition: one road, one winner, no finish line. Walk until there’s no one else walking. The catch is that you can’t quit. Hell, you can’t even slow down. You walk until you die, either of exhaustion or by bullet spray (should you break the rules).

Lawrence has gathered a talented cast for these characters, beginning with everybody’s nemesis, the condescending voice of support and doom bellowing from the megaphone. Mark Hamill plays The Major with the perfect combination of swagger and benevolence to be contemptible without veering into caricature.

As Ray, our hero, Cooper Hoffman impresses, even when he’s saddled with King’s unfortunately quaint dialog. The camaraderie among the “four musketeers”— Ray, Pete (David Jonsson), Arthur (Tut Nyuot), and Hank (Ben Wang)—feels contrived from the beginning, Still, Cooper and Jonsson (so impressive in Alien: Romulus) share genuine chemistry, each elevating scenes with a glance, a shrug, a change in tone. Hoffman, in particular, plays nimbly with each of the other marchers, always delivering exactly the tone needed to keep someone’s head on straight and feet moving forward. Unsurprisingly, his moments with the invaluable Judy Greer (as Ray’s mother) are tender and heartbreaking.

This is a story most have deemed unfilmable given the utterly straightforward narrative. Cinematically, there’s not a lot you can do besides walk alongside 50 or so actors as they dwindle in number. There’s little opportunity to show rather than tell. Characters are defined by their dialog, and often, they’re narrowly etched.

But JT Mollner (Strange Darling) finds sly opportunities to broaden what is essentially a war metaphor—soldiers walking side by side, friendly enough but each hoping he’s the one who survives. Mollner and Lawrence subtly draw attention to the dystopian capitalist spectacle of boys walking themselves into an early grave, all so the rest of the country can watch and learn to be good, hard workers.  

The Long Walk, as is always the case, will upset King purists because of its handful of plot changes. But when it comes to delivering a cinematic experience with an unfilmable novel, the movie’s a winner.

Fright Club Extra: The Long Walk

It was so cool to get to host the Columbus premier of the new Stephen King adaptation The Long Walk! We’re grateful to the great crowd at Gateway Film Center for joining us for the screening and for sticking around for a spoiler-free chat about the movie.

That’s a Bingo

Old Guy

by Hope Madden

There were three reasons to be optimistic about Old Guy, the latest from director Simon West. West used to make big budget, memorably bad actioners (Con Air), then middle budget middling actioners (The Mechanic, The Expendables 2), and now low budget actioners that have to find a way to capture attention. Hence, the three reasons for optimism.

Number one, two-time Oscar winner and all around magnetic onscreen mischief maker Christoph Waltz plays the lead. He’s Danny Dolinski, an aging hitman with a penchant for drink, drugs and threesomes (and hideously patterned short sleeve button downs).

Dolinski’s recovering from hand surgery—his trigger hand—which is slowing him down. Thus, he’s been tasked with training a new man, Wihlborg (Cooper Hoffman). Reason number 2. The actor’s handful of onscreen performances—particularly, his remarkable lead turn in Paul Thomas Anderson’s 2021 Licorice Pizza—mark him as an actor I’m anxious to see in anything.

And reason 3, Lucy Liu, whose recent work finds edges and scars that give characters intriguing dimension. She’s particularly wonderful onscreen right now in Steven Soderbergh’s inverted ghost story Presence.

What’s most fun about the casting is that all three talents are playing entirely against type. And though not one of them is entirely convincing as their own particular fringe-of-society misfit, each is deeply charming.

West’s direction is frantic enough to do service to both the action and comedy Old Guy is trying to convey. Greg Johnson’s script is not helping. The dialog is not especially funny and worse still, the plot itself falls entirely apart under the lest scrutiny. But the veteran popcorn-and-car-chase director injects a bit of tension and giddy humor with image juxtaposition and punchy editing.

And there’s just a silliness in the cast that’s engaging. Liu’s character is an absolute afterthought, but the performance compels interest nonetheless. Hoffman’s been handed less a character than a handful of tics in dark nail polish, but he gives the guy a heartbeat and you find yourself rooting for him.

And Waltz, so charmingly miscast, characteristically finds insignificant moments to turn into cinematic highlights. You’ll forget Old Guy the minute those catchy looking credits stop rolling, but sometimes a brain needs to turn off and wallow in three solid performers having fun and making the most of a bad situation.

Live! From New York!

Saturday Night

by Hope Madden

Saturday Night Live has been on the air for 50 years. That is insane. Most people alive today in the U.S. cannot remember a time before SNL. But Jason Reitman wants you to recall that it wasn’t supposed to work, that it had no business working, and that whatever it is today, it once was an absolute cultural explosion.

Reitman, who directs and co-writes with his Ghostbusters collaborator Gil Kenan, delivers such chaotic energy that you almost forget there is a script. The choreography of longtime collaborator Eric Steelberg’s camera emphasizes the film’s livewire atmosphere, but the fact that Saturday Night pulls off this kind of frenetic lawlessness bears witness to Reitman’s mastery of his craft.

At the center of the whirlwind is Lorne Michaels (Gabriel LaBelle, The Fabelmans and Snack Shack). NBC doesn’t really expect this “not ready for prime time” experiment to work. At all. And based on the anarchy leading up to showtime, you wonder yourself, even though we already know the outcome.

LaBelle—an undeniable talent at this point—easily anchors the film with a vulnerability, kindness and optimism that makes Michaels hard to root against but almost as hard to believe in. That conflict is necessary for the film to build any real tension or make any meaningful connection, and LaBelle humanizes the madness.

He’s surrounded by a massive ensemble that impresses with every turn. Reitman chooses to highlight certain personalities you may not expect—Chevy Chase (Cory Michael Smith), sure, but also a show-stealing Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris, exceptional). Dylan O’Brien (as Dan Aykroyd), Rachel Sennott (as head writer Rosie Shuster), Cooper Hoffman (as producer Dick Ebersol) and Tommy Dewey (as caustic comedy genius Michael O’Donoghue) are particular stand outs. But the J.K. Simmons cameo as Mr. Television Milton Berle is priceless.

At its heart, Saturday Night fits into that tried-and-true “let’s put on a show” picture, but it’s the remarkable way Reitman captures the cultural shift this program marked that leaves a lasting impression.

Saturday Night also bursts with laugh-out-loud moments, little triumphs, fascinating callbacks and infectious energy. It can be hard to see today’s SNL in this riotous recollection, but there’s real history in these 90 minutes—and so much cocaine. History rarely looked like this much fun.

American Pie

Licorice Pizza

by Hope Madden

Each new Paul Thomas Anderson film defies expectations. Few fans of the lunatic frenzy of Boogie Nights or Punch Drunk Love would have expected the somber period dramas of The Master or There Will Be Blood. And I don’t know that anybody saw Phantom Thread coming.

Why not follow that meticulously crafted, deliberately paced tale of love and poison with a coming-of-age comedy? Well, Anderson’s latest, Licorice Pizza, is just that, and it’s a slice of Hollywood life awash in squeamish adolescent truth, politics, and waterbeds.

Anderson returns again to the 1970s, an era where few are as at home. In his 1997 breakout Boogie Nights, he used the porn industry to showcase the changing politics of the end of the decade while exploring alienation, family, and merkins. He journeyed back to the decade in 2015 with his underappreciated private dick flick Inherent Vice, again looking at individuals on the fringes and the choices that put them there.

While Licorice Pizza is far sunnier than those, it again examines choices and consequences against a vividly articulated 1970s LA.

Anderson’s film manages to be simultaneously familiar and entirely authentic. What does it feel like? If Robert Altman had attempted a coming of age flick, maybe? Or if Linklater made a screwball romantic comedy? Among Licorice Pizza’s many triumphs, the film nails its time period, not only in visual detail but in cinematic tone.

It is loose, forgiving, and along for the ride as 15-year-old entrepreneur Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman) woos life, Hollywood and, in particular, Alana Kane (Alana Haim), his much older paramour.

Both stars charm and disarm. Cooper’s sweet-natured confidence masks an adolescent tenderness that, when it shows itself, is almost crushing in its honesty. And Haim’s funny, awkward naivete mirrors the film’s own giddy feel.

Danger edges but never fully punctures the sunshine of youth that brightens every scene of the movie. But that darkness is there, looming like the creepy guy staring at your office window, or the cops who arrest you mistakenly, or the volatile Hollywood producer who may or may not smash your window (or your head) in with a crowbar. (Thank you, Bradley Cooper, by the way, for that brief but unforgettable performance.)

Cooper is not the only Hollywood big wig gracing a few minutes of screen time. Sean Penn drops in as a well-known action star and has not been this entertaining since Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Don’t ask him about Kuala Lumpur!

The massive ensemble, evocative soundtrack and party atmosphere conjure Boogie Nights, the comfortable family dysfunction recalls Punch Drunk Love, the lumbering walk and surprising charm from the lead is reminiscent of PTA alum and dearly missed Philip Seymour Hoffman, Cooper’s dad.

It’s nostalgic. It’s uproarious, dangerous, just-this-side-of-innocent fun. It’s a near-masterpiece.

It’s a Paul Thomas Anderson movie.