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Good Night and Good Luck

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Come True

by Hope Madden

There are elements of Anthony Scott Burns’s sci fi horror Come True that put you in mind of early David Cronenberg, although what Canadian filmmaker hasn’t been inspired by the master?

Like Cronenberg, Burns sets his unnerving tale amid the humming florescents, beeping machines and grainy medical equipment displays of an institution—someplace hospital-like, if not quite hospital-proper.

But where Cronenberg usually populated these dreary medtech landscapes with the most disturbing body horror, Burns has other, slower terror in mind.

This is where 18-year-old runaway Sarah (Julia Sarah Stone) finds herself. Nights spent on friends’ couches or at the local playground have Sarah strung out enough that a two-month sleep study sounds exactly like the safe, sound rest she needs.

Unfortunately, Sarah suffers from nightmares.

This is where Burns develops a marvelous sense of universal dread. As his camera (he also acted as cinematographer) weaves through hallways and caverns too dark to truly make out, human shapes or something like them hang, drape, congeal and otherwise loom in shadows. They are at unnatural angles and heights. Some seem to be looking at you.

What Burns sets in the corridors of Sarah’s mind abandons the Cronenberg universe in favor of a terror more reminiscent of Rodney Ascher’s documentary, The Nightmare.

Whew—heady stuff, and big shoes to fill. Burns follows through with the tone and look of the film, creating a dreamy, retro vibe that he amplifies with a score by Anthony Scott Burns, Pilotpriest and Electric Youth.

He also has quite a find in Stone, whose elfen look perfectly suits the project. She projects something scrappy, vulnerable and otherworldly and she carries this film on her narrow shoulders.

The cast around her does wonders to suggest a backstory that isn’t shared, each pair or group with its own lingo and worn in rapport.

Where Come True falls short is in its story. The slow pace eventually works against the film. Worse still, it’s hard to see the climax as anything other than a cheat. Come True leaves you feeling massively let down, which is truly unfortunate after so much investment in a world this well built.

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Strangers on a Plane

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The Last Right

by Hope Madden

A few months back, Jamie Dornan and Emily Blunt stupefied us all (well, the dozen or so of us who saw Wild Mountain Thyme) with an Irish romance about as authentic as a Shamrock Shake. Writer/director Aoife Crehan’s The Last Right takes us back to the Emerald Isle to see if there’s any romance or magic left.

Oh, there is? Well, fine then.

Dutch actor Michiel Huisman plays Daniel Murphy, Irishman. Or American. Well, that’s fuzzy, but he’s certainly not Dutch, although his accent is tough to pinpoint. Daniel’s been called back from Boston to County Cork for his ma’s funeral, and to look in on his younger brother Louis (Samuel Bottomley, Get Duked!)

And old man – also named Murphy – dies on the airplane and authorities believe Daniel is his next of kin. They want him to deliver the remains to a church on the northern tip of Ireland, but that’s not his responsibility plus he has all this work to do and he can’t wait to get back to Beantown where his fancy lawyer job waits for him.

But Louis wants to go, and Louis has autism, which is where the film really gets a bit off the rails.

Crehan nods to Barry Levinson’s Rain Man early into the cross-country drive between two brothers with a large age gap, a long way to go and a lot to learn. Along for the ride is mortuary assistant Mary (Naimh Algar) and more contrivances than you can shake a shillelagh at.

Performances are solid. Algar brings a fiery spirit to the roadtrip experience, and Crehan fills small roles with the venerable talents of Brian Cox, Colm Meaney and Jim Norton. Plus the scenery is gorgeous.

There is a perfectly middle-of-the-road romantic dramedy here somewhere. You may enjoy it, assuming you can get past the tangle of convenient plot twists and you don’t wince at the device of an autistic character (played by an actor who is not on the spectrum, although Bottomley delivers a layered and respectful performance) teaching the real lessons.

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Watchu Talkin’ Bout, Grillis?

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Cosmic Sin

By George Wolf

Knowing that Cosmic Sin comes from the writers behind last year’s Breach probably won’t fill you with confidence about their latest sci-fi adventure.

But the good news is Edward Drake and Corey Large are improving. Very, very slowly.

Drake also takes the director’s chair this time, and coaxes a mildly interested performance out of returning star Bruce Willis (which Breach could never manage).

The year is 2524 (remember that) and Earth’s forces have formed the Alliance of colonies throughout the universe. Willis is General James Ford, renamed the “Blood General” after he wiped out one of the colonies with a “Q-bomb” and was stripped of rank and pension (ouch!).

But minutes after learning of first contact with an alien life form, General Ryle (Frank Grillo) calls Ford back to duty, where he’ll join a rag tag group of you know who to make a heroic you know what and save you know where.

Drake and Large (who also plays Ford’s sidekick) clearly blew the budget on Grillo and Willis (Grillis!), with a side of Costas Mandylor. 500 years from now looks a lot like next Tuesday, while planets light years away look like next Tuesday in Michigan.

And still, cinematographer Brandon Cox manages some slick deep space panoramas…that are often ruined by Saturday morning-worthy effects of our heroes flying through the stars and “pew pew pew”-ing in battle with the aliens.

Likewise, Drake and Large’s script toys with the meaty issues of war, sacrifice, and colonialism, only to abandon them in the name of heroic grandstanding. Potential threads (and Grillo’s entire character) grab our attention and then vanish at random, rendering much of the 88 minute running time a meandering mess.

Still better than Breach, though.

Shudder Premiere

Man Oh Man Oh Mansion

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Stay Out of the F**king Attic

by George Wolf

Big, old, empty houses are creepy, right? Lots of dark, musty spaces to get the imagination conjuring up all manner of nasty things that might be lurking.

There are some nasty things lurking in Shudder’s Stay Out of the F**king Attic, but the way they’re conjured leans more toward laborious and silly.

Shillinger (Ryan Francis), Imani (Morgan Alexandria) and Carlos (Bryce Fernelius) are three ex-cons working for the Second Chance moving company. When they show up to move the elderly Vern (Michael Flynn) out of his mansion, he surprises them with a hard-to-resist offer.

If the three will work through the night to get the job done by morning, Vern will reward them with a nice chunk of cash. Two things, though: stay out of the attic and the basement.

Bet they don’t.

The use of the edited F**king in the title suggests a mischievous, knowing tone that got off the bus in a totally different zip code than director/co-writer Jerren Lauder. That’s too bad, because this film is in serious need of lightening up.

Almost every element – from performances to dialog to cheesy score to practical creature effects – lands as stilted and overly staged. Though Flynn does make an effective villain and one particular creature ain’t half bad, even the brisk 80-minute run of Lauder’s feature debut seems like an overstayed welcome.

As our Second Chance movers uncover secrets about Vern (and each other), Lauder leans on body horror closeups and weak jump scares on the way to a big reveal that is bigly ridiculous.

Shudder’s been on an impressive run of originals lately, which makes this misfire a little surprising. Here’s hoping Lauder’s second chance will be a bit more worthy of the investment.

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Gone Girl

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Antigone

by Hope Madden

Any deep dive into the day-to-day realities of asylum seekers and the racism they face can end in horror (His House) or tragedy. Sophie Deraspe’s Antigone takes the second path, obviously.

Though the story is thoroughly updated, Deraspe keeps the ancient Greek names for her Algerian family living in Quebec. Antigone (Nahéma Ricco) also retains the strength and rebellious nature of the heroine created more than 2500 years back.

In the original story, two brothers died in battle. One died a hero because he fought on the side that won, so he receives a hero’s burial. Because the other brother fought with the rebels, his body is left to rot in the sun.

His sister doesn’t care what her brothers have done, her responsibility to them as family requires that she risk her own future to do what she believes is right.

An imaginative reworking of the Sophocles play, Deraspe’s drama still sees one sister challenging institutions to do what’s right by her family.

Ricco astounds in the title role. Her fiery grace impresses, especially as her physical performance flows effortlessly from wide-eyed searching to crumbling vulnerability to straight-spined resolve. She develops a timeless quality for the heroine, a conscience rooted in some primal virtue.

The cast around her matches her step for step, and as Deraspe subverts tropes and expectations, her performers rise to the challenge. Rawad El-Zein is especially powerful in the role of frustrating brother Polynice, and both Antoine DesRochers and Paul Doucet excel as the filmmaker finds new directions to take very old characters.

Deraspe’s film explores institutional hatred, justice versus family loyalty, and the nature of heroism. It’s a powerful look at generational, religious and cultural fractures. It’s a beautifully written and executed reworking of an all-time classic.

More than anything, it is a singular performance that demands attention and respect.

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Folk in the Road

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The Independents

by George Wolf

Is it karma? Kismet? Dumb luck?

Whatever it is, New York neighbors Richard (Rich Price) and Greg (writer/director Greg Naughton) are brought together by the fate of a fallen tree limb. Both are musicians, and after an eye-opening impromptu jam session they decide to throw caution to the wind.

Rich, a teacher and grad student, will blow off working on his dissertation, and the guys will take to the road. They’ll stop in Ohio to pick up Greg’s estranged girlfriend, then hit the Eagle Rock folk festival to play original tunes on one of the side stages.

So what are the odds weird hitchhiker Brian (Brain Chartrand) also plays guitar and can provide the missing voice for perfect three part harmony?

The guys sound great together, and they should, because they’re an actual group called the Sweet Remains. Taking inspiration from his real life, Naughton filmed his directorial debut over several years, shooting around the band’s touring schedule.

The result is a sweetly earnest and often funny ode to the simple joy of making music, and the value in even the most unlikely dreams.

So yeah, a fast-talking record exec (Richard Kind) hears the guys play and sets up an L.A. showcase, but give Naughton credit for adding plenty of unexpected, sometimes pretty clever speed bumps on the road to overnight success.

As actors, the three leads are all talented musicians, with just enough easygoing charm to get us rooting for their characters almost immediately. That’s a big help when those brand new songs sound polished on the first take, or when someone conveniently has an uncle who can get them out of the latest jam.

How much of Naughton’s art is imitating his life? Hard to say, but it hardly matters. In both cases, it took the guys some time to arrive, but now that they’re here, what remains is pretty sweet.

The Independents will be released virtually via LAEMMLE THEATRES and ANGELIKA CINEMAS for a special limited engagement beginning Feb 26, then it will be released via TVOD on March 9.

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Shipping Up to Sligo

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Pixie

by Matt Weiner

There was a time in the late 90s when you couldn’t go six months without a quippy crime comedy that was obviously pitched as “Pulp Fiction, but this time you get to be the studio making a boatload of money.” Some of these, like Doug Liman’s Go, were quite good. Others, like The Boondock Saints, belong in the Hague. Most of them, though, were simply reliable—reliably watchable, and equally forgettable.

Thankfully, the new action comedy Pixie takes as many cues from its distinct local sensibilities as it does from forebears like Tarantino and especially Guy Ritchie, the capo di tutti capi of British gangster cinema.

It all starts, naturally, with a drug deal gone bad—and things just get worse from there. Pixie has all the convenient plot twists and beyond belief interconnectedness you’d expect in this sort of crime thriller. But it also has heart, anchored by Olivia Cooke (Ready Player One) as the title moll.

A nonstop series of crosses, double crosses and double-double crosses take Pixie and her inept partners in crime on a scenic if slightly murderous tour through the West of Ireland as they attempt to make their big score without getting snared by misfit hitmen, killer priests and country gangsters hot on their heels. This includes Pixie’s own family (with the great Colm Meaney as patriarch, who seems to be thoroughly enjoying this “teddy bear who might also kill you” stage of his career).

For all the contrivances of the genre, director Barnaby Thompson, working off a script by his son Preston Thompson, imbues the film with an archness that keeps the action entertaining even at its most improbable. So much of this falls to Cooke, who switches effortlessly from femme fatale to agent of pure chaos, a beguiling anti-heroine who has figured out how to entice others to clean up the carnage she leaves in her wake.

And if the bawdy jokes, nun-related gunplay and jaw-dropping vistas still aren’t enough, perhaps Alec Baldwin chewing through his scenes and an Irish accent with equal aplomb will seal the deal.

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Eye Spy

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Keep an Eye Out

by Hope Madden

If there is one filmmaker whose movies resist summarization, it’s Quentin Dupieux. I have tried (Deerskin, Wrong).

His latest, Keep an Eye Out, takes us on a murder mystery in the most charmingly monotonous of ways. In fact, as Chief Commissioner Buron (Benoît Poelvoorde, Man Bites Dog) questions suspect Fugain (Grégoire Ludig), the officer complains that this is the most boring interrogation he’s ever done.

It’s not just the questioning (Fugain bought bug spray, then ate some potato chips, then accidentally knocked over a planter and broke it…) that’s mind numbing, though. Dupieux situates this aggressively dull conversation in a French police station leeched of color—everything in the room an unflattering shade of putty, except for the bizarre abundance of overhead lights.

It’s often tempting to seek symbolism in Dupieux’s absurd situations. Many of us are still wrestling with the message in his 2010 breakout, Rubber, about a discarded car tire on a nationwide killing spree.

Perhaps there’s no hidden meaning. In Keep an Eye Out, in particular, the filmmaker seems simply to be setting up jokes. As soon as Philippe (Marc Fraize) arrives on the scene—one eye on the accused, the other missing and grown over with skin—things take an almost Monty Python level of lunacy. It’s uncomfortably silly, stupid even.

There’s a freedom to the absurdism of a Dupieux film, although Keep an Eye Out feels far more superficial even than Deerskin (a film released prior to but filmed after Keep an Eye Out). Even his most focused work lacks the cynicism or bite of Yorgos Lanthimos, maybe the most consistent absurdist working in film today.

Which is not to say a Dupieux film can’t be as enjoyable. In many ways, they’re easier to enjoy than a Lanthimos film because they’re less likely to fill you with existential terror.

They’re weird. They’re delightfully unpredictable. They’d grow tiresome, but they’re all so short. (Keep an Eye Out runs barely longer than an hour.)

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Bad Heir Day

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Coming 2 America

by George Wolf

A quip about unnecessary sequels is just one of several “wink-wink” gags you’ll find running throughout Coming 2 America. And though the original was heavy in sexism (even for 1988) and light on LOLs, there’s little doubt that the film’s huge fan base has been anxious for a follow-up.

Eddie Murphy teams again with director Craig Brewer, which is reason for optimism, since Brewer helmed one of Murphy’s career highs – 2019’s Dolemite Is My Name. But screenwriters David Sheffield and Barry Blaustein return from the original film, and while they thankfully update the sexual politics, the humor is again scattershot at best.

Most of the cast is back, including 90 year-old James Earl Jones as King Jaffe of Zamunda. He’s ready to pass the throne to Prince Akeem (Murphy), but is worried that Akeem and Lisa (Shari Headley) only have daughters, and tradition calls for a male heir.

What’s this? The loyal Semmi (Aresenio Hall) has been keeping a very big secret all these years, which means Akeem and Semmi must return to New York to find Akeem’s long lost son.

That would be Lavelle (Jermaine Fowler), who makes the trip to Zamunda for royal training with his mom (Leslie Jones) and uncle (Tracey Morgan) in tow. The additional family is good for Lavelle, and for us, as Jones and Morgan’s “fish out of Queens” antics give the film its most consistently fresh and funny moments.

They’re just aren’t enough of those moments to pump real life into part 2. The girl power is overdue and and love lessons are generic, each as predictable as getting more insults from the barbershop guys and more R&B stylings from Randy Watson.

Buy hey, you go to see Sexual Chocolate, you want to hear the hits. And if you’ve been waiting for Coming 2 America for reminders of what you liked the first time, you’ll get them.

Otherwise, a return trip isn’t necessary.

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Hoop Fantasies

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Boogie

by George Wolf

What’s the greatest moment in Asian-American history?

According to Alfred “Boogie” Chin’s father, it’s Micheal Chang’s upset of Ivan Lendl in the 1989 French Open final. And though Boogie’s sport is basketball, the Chin family is hoping some similar court magic will take them all the way to the NBA.

And that’s the first trouble sign with writer/director Eddie Huang’s first feature. From what we see on the court, the idea that Boogie (Taylor Takahashi in his screen debut) is good enough to play in college – let alone the NBA – is laughable.

Wisely, Huang keeps the in-game action to a minimum, focusing instead on the pressures of an Asian teen who must shoulder the burden of being his family’s savior while coming of age in Queens, New York.

Boogie transferred to City Prep High School, so a high-profile showdown with Brooklyn phenom “Monk” (rapper/musician Pop Smoke, is his last role before his tragic murder last year) would help land a college scholarship. But so far, the scouts aren’t promising anything more than walk-on opportunities.

The opportunities with Eleanor (Taylor Paige, so good in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom and the clear standout in this cast) are looking much brighter. As the big game draws near and the “manager” Mom hired makes things even more tense at home, Boogie leans on Eleanor for a quiet sense of comfort.

Huang (creator of TV’s “Fresh Off the Boat”) throws out some solid ideas, but his attempts to develop them stop at vague generalities. Much like the hooping talent, the cultural struggle of the Chin family is told more than shown, never giving us a reason to get emotionally involved.

And if you’re going to cast a completely inexperienced actor as your lead, why not someone who’s actually a basketball talent? Takahashi was apparently a high school standout, but that doesn’t translate here. Still, even without the inexplicable basketball charade, the coming-of-age drama is only G league material. Huang may yet prove he got game, but it’s going to take some work in the film room.