Tag Archives: George Wolf

Tale of Three Pretties

Kiss of the Spider Woman

by George Wolf

Trusting Bill Condon to bring the Kiss of the Spider Woman stage musical to the big screen is an understandable choice. With Dreamgirls, Chicago and even Beauty and the Beast, the man has shown he knows how to write and/or direct the necessary pop and pizazz.

He brings both again this time, just enough to offset what’s lacking on the political intrigue side of the ledger.

Based on the 1993 Tony Award-winning adaptation of Manuel Piug’s 1976 novel (which also spawned the 1985 film version), Condon’s Kiss keeps the core story intact. It’s set after Argentina’s coup d’état in the late 70s, when the military dictatorship began rounding up scores of political opponents.

One of these activists, Valentín (Diego Luna), is sharing a jail cell with Molina (Tonatiuh), a window dresser who has been convicted of “public indecency” with another man. To brighten their spirits, Molina begins regaling Valentín with the plot of one of his favorite movie musicals starring the glamorous Ingrid Luna (Jennifer Lopez).

All three actors impress in multiple roles, as Condon crafts the fantasy song-and-dance numbers with the staging, visual panache and aspect ratio to recall the golden age of Hollywood. Shifting often from lavish sequence to jail cell squalor, the film’s two plot lines begin to mirror each other, and some layers of love, loss, and sacrifice grow stronger than others.

The fantasy throwbacks, queer and Latin influences pull each other along nicely, but Condon never quite establishes the prison as a setting with real grit or tangible danger. Granted, it’s tricky to walk this line without recalling too much Man of La Mancha. But the lengths which Condon goes to differentiate the worlds visually only makes those slippery tone shifts more curious.

Is it entertaining? It is, even at just over two hours. JLo is award-worthy yet again, Luna is quietly heroic and Tonatiuh (Carry-On) delivers a smashing and star-making breakout turn. Give in to them all, and Kiss of the Spider Woman can get you lost in the fantasy.

Poison Pen

A Savage Art: The Life & Cartoons of Pat Oliphant

by George Wolf

“If Pat Oliphant couldn’t draw, he’d be an assassin.”

That quote gets your attention, even if you don’t know the name Pat Oliphant. Either way, you’ve probably seen some of his work, and A Savage Art: The Life & Cartoons of Pat Oliphant is a broadly effective intro to a legend of political cartooning.

Oliphant wielded a revolutionary artistic style and the kind of cynical mind that had him rebelling against the very committee that awarded him the Pulitzer Prize in 1967. Aided by his alter ego “Punk” the Penguin, Oliphant skewered the political landscape through five decades and ten U.S. Presidents.

In his feature debut, director Bill Banowsky keeps things pretty standard, rolling out a succession of Oliphant’s best cartoons, and chatting with family members and colleagues to provide some personal details that Oliphant himself seems averse to.

And though today’s political and social climate carries some issues that are very relevant to Oliphant’s legacy, Banowsky doesn’t dig in. We do get mentions of the increased threats to a free press, and to the rise of internet memes as a shallow imitation of cartoon commentary, but those seem to be conversations for another day.

Banowsky’s aim is to give a legend his due and maybe spur some interest in learning more. A Savage Art hits that target square.

Slippery

The Ice Tower

by George Wolf

Fifteen-year-old Jeanne doesn’t want to build a snowman. What she wants is an escape, but finds plenty more than she expected in The Ice Tower, Lucile Emina Hadzihalilovic’s dreamlike re-imaging of “The Snow Queen.”

In 1970s France, Jeanne (a wonderful feature debut for Clara Pacini) is among the oldest children in a foster home, where she comforts the younger ones and silently longs for a better life. She finally leaves one evening, taking refuge in an empty warehouse to sleep.

But in the morning, Jeanne finds the warehouse is home to a movie crew, with director Dino (Gaspar Noé, Hadzihalilovic’s husband) filming a new adaptation of the Hans Christian Anderson classic. Mistaken for an extra, Jeanne becomes part of the production and is instantly captivated by the star of the show, Christina (Marion Cotillard).

The Oscar-winning Cotillard is, of course, perfect as the detached and demanding diva who begins to take an equally strong interest in the young Jeanne. But to what end? Hadzihalilovic explores that question with a cold, barren beauty. The aesthetic is tactile and intoxicating, a perfect playground to envelope the film in strange fascination.

The Ice Tower casts an undeniable spell. Despite lingering a bit too long in some dry spots, it crafts an enriching trip to the darker floors of a fairy tale.

No Wake Zone

Bone Lake

by George Wolf

Not long after we meet Sage and Diego, they’re talking about his idea for a novel, debating about what qualifies as “gratuitous” and lamenting that cancel culture has neutered artistic expression.

Okay, intriguing. And then you remember that one poster for Bone Lake features the strategically large “R” rating positioned right after the first word in the title.

Alrighty, then, we’re gonna push some limits with both blood and lust, are we? Have some devilish fun with hot button topics and take no prisoners?

No, we are not. We’re going to play it safe and predictable, borrow heavily from better projects and hope some late stage blood splatter stops the questions about why that poster doesn’t read BonePG-13 Lake.

Sage (Maddie Hasson) and Diego (Marco Pigossi) have booked an incredible lakeside mansion for the weekend. Diego’s even brought a ring along to pop the question, but there are two very big complications. Will (Alex Roe) and Cin (Andra Nechita) have also booked the mansion for the weekend! What are four good-lookings gonna do except share the space and really get to know each other?

The character development is rushed but adequate. Will and Cin are openly sexy free spirits, Diego is more buttoned-up and Sage seems to be settling for the comfy life while missing some walks on the wild side. But more than anything, Diego and Sage both seem like a couple of first class idiots.

Writer Joshua Friedlander and director Mercedes Bryce Morgan want to sprinkle some White Lotus sensibilities over a mashup of Funny Games and A Perfect Getaway. But the inspirations are painfully evident, the revelations overly telegraphed, the internal logic gets shaky and the frolicking more silly than sexy.

None of it goes anywhere worth caring about. The marketing angle, an attention-getting prologue and that early art debate make some promises that are never kept, and this trip to the lake is more bore than bone.

Everyday People

The Lost Bus

by George Wolf

Paul Greengrass loves him a true survival story. And with Captain Phillips, United 93, Bloody Sunday and more, he’s shown great instincts for bringing those stories to the screen. That craftsmanship is on display again in The Lost Bus, a harrowing retelling of a heroic rescue from Northern California’s catastrophic Camp Fire that killed 85 people and destroyed ninety percent of a city’s homes in 2018.

Adapting Lizzie Johnson’s book, Greengrass and co – writer Brad Ingelsby get us up to speed early and effectively. The town of Paradise has not had rain for over 200 days, and the threat of wind gusts up to 90 mph bring multiple wildfire warnings.

Kevin McKay (Matthew McConaughey) is begging for extra shifts as a school bus driver, trying to keep his life together amid an aging mother (McConaughey’s mother Kay), a rebellious son (McConaughey’s son Levi), a disappointed ex-wife (Kimberli Flores), an impatient boss (Ashlie Atkinson) and a dying dog.

He’s also struggling with guilt after his father’s death, and it’s only McConaughey’s skill with grounding the character that keeps Kevin from collapsing under the strain of an overly tortured and reluctant hero.

A faulty power line ignites a small fire that quickly grows to overwhelm firefighters, and as evacuation panic sets in, a call goes out to any bus drivers able to rescue a group of stranded schoolchildren. McKay answers, picking up teacher Mary Ludwig (America Ferrera) and her class of 22 kids. The radios are out and the bus is unreachable, adding even more anxiety to the frightened parents waiting at a shelter.

Ferrera also does wonders with a broadly drawn character. She and McConaughey create effective snapshots of everyday heroes pushed to the brink, the perfect anchor for Greengrass’s frenzied shaky-cam plunge into the fire. What the effects team accomplishes with the mix of embers, wind and flame is just spectacular, and though none of the bus’s perilous moments surpass the white knuckle nerve-shredding of Sorcerer, just the fact that Greengrass can bring Friedkin’s classic to mind is a high-five in itself.

McKay and Ludwig certainly deserve plenty of those. And the bluntly titled The Lost Bus gives them their due in grand, appropriately no-nonsense fashion. Unimaginable circumstances bring on an unparalleled fight for survival, and heroes emerge. Hold on tight for a gripping ride, especially if you can catch this Apple TV release on the big screen.

My Mind on Mega and Mega on My Mind

Megadoc

by George Wolf

I saw Megalopolis when it debuted last year. I liked it, didn’t love it. It was a big, messy cinematic swing from Francis Ford Coppola, and even those who hated it – there were plenty – had to admire FFC’s commitment to a project that he started over thirty years prior.

Coppola put up his own fortune to get the film done, including selling a stake in his winery. And that meant Coppola answered only to Coppola, which adds a captivating element to Megadoc, Mike Figgis’s behind-the-scenes documentary on the chaotic production.

Coppola invited the veteran Figgis (Leaving Las Vegas) on set, which gave him nearly unlimited access to cast and crew. FFC’s head butts with the difficult Shia LeBeouf are frequently captured, while the more calculated Adam Driver needs some time to feel comfortable with Figgis’s presence.

The first run at filming Megalopolis came in the early 2000s, and footage from those early table reads and green screen shoots with some different cast members are juxtaposed with current footage to hypnotic effect.

But the real attraction of Megadoc lies well beyond any movie star posturing or agent demands. We get an up-close look at Coppola’s broad creative process, and the conflicts that come from the famed director thinking of his passion project as “play, while they want to work at it.”

Half the crew walks out, actors question the director’s choices, while FFC often retreats to the isolation of a trailer where he can call the shots remotely. And Figgis is always there, sometimes abusing his privileges and becoming more of a proud participant than impartial observer.

And ironically, that ends up making Megadoc even more of a necessary bookend to Hearts of Darkness, Eleanor Coppola’s 1991 doc on the making of Apocalypse Now. Decades later, the frenzied director on the verge of losing it all has become a legend more than at peace with risking it all. That’s a fascinating transformation to observe, and any fan of filmmaking should embrace the chance to do it.

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.