Cinema has always sought to find beauty and humanity in even the worst of times. Wars are often those worst of times. The new documentary In the Rearview seeks to put the spotlight on human stories as war ravages the country of Ukraine.
A driver, a cameraman, and refugees fleeing their homes: these are the real life characters that exist within In the Rearview’s running time. It’s not a film trying to unravel a great mystery or highlight the life of a famous person. No, this is a film that seeks only to share the stories of people whose entire lives have been upended by war. As the driver traverses dangerous situations, military checkpoints, and damaged roads, the camera captures these people talking about the lives they are leaving behind and the lives they hope to return to.
The despair felt by the people fleeing their home country is palpable. Many are leaving family pets behind or loved ones who are unable to make the journey. It’s devastating to watch families torn apart in real time – not knowing when they might see each other again.
The footage is matter of fact and presented without sensationalism. The war is only seen through images of bombed bridges, tank tracks, military run checkpoints, and the haunted faces of the van’s passengers. This lack of polish makes In the Rearview stand out from most contemporary documentaries.
In the Rearview is a riveting look at how the destructive power of war impacts more than just flesh and bone.
An old fisherman who’s never recovered from an unendurable loss saves the life of a little penguin. They become best friends. It’s a true story that was clearly designed by the movie gods, but luckily it fell into the hands of director David Schurmann, whose work may lean crowd-pleasing but never glossy or self-indulgent.
My Penguin Friend doesn’t need it. Though Act 1, introducing the tragedy that will haunt Joao (Jean Reno, a heartbreaking delight), does go a bit over the top in its cinematic tendencies, Schurmann and team settle into a more natural rhythm by the beginning of the second act.
Reno’s a broken, sunken old man who doesn’t go into town and hasn’t talked with his old fisherman friends in so long they barely remember. His wife Maria (Adriana Barraza, underused but as nuanced and authentic as ever) co-exists but the emptiness of their home is its own character.
Schurmann doesn’t rely on an imposing score or even a seasoned cast to manipulate our emotions, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t do it. It’s what he does not show in Act 1 that haunts Reno’s eyes and the surface of the ocean outside Joao and Maria’s window. Schurmann reminds us of what none of us could bear to see just often enough to make your breath catch for the fear that Joao might have to live through the heartbreak again.
Which would be unbearable if the film didn’t also offer the levity, goofiness and undeniable cuteness of this penguin who befriends Joao, baffles scientists, and swims 5000 miles from Argentina to Brazil every year or so to hang out and watch TV on the sofa with his buddy.
It’s about the dearest thing you’re ever going to see, which just about makes up for the fact that most of the ensemble has never acted and it shows. Any stretch of narrative without Reno feels twice as long as it is, but there is no denying the heartbreaking charm whenever he and Barraza are onscreen.
There are plenty of flaws that keep My Penguin Friend from really singing, but it’s not enough to dampen the joy to be found with this odd couple.
Is there any time of year more horrifying than back to school? We share the misery, taking a gander at some of the most disturbing and most fun teachers in horror.
5. Little Monsters (2019)
Basically, Little Monsters is Cooties meets Life is Beautiful.
Miss Caroline (Lupita Nyong’o, glorious as always) has taken her kindergarten class on a field trip. The petting zoo sits next door to a military testing facility, one thing eats the brains of another and suddenly Miss Caroline is hurdling zombies and convincing her class this is all a game.
Little Monsters is, in its own bloody, entrail-strewn way, adorable. Honestly. And so very much of that has to do with Nyong’o. Miss Caroline’s indefatigable devotion to her students is genuinely beautiful, and Nyong’o couldn’t be more convincing.
4. Diabolique (1955)
Pierre Boileau’s novel was such hot property that even Alfred Hitchcock pined to make it into a film. But Henri-Georges Clouzot got hold if it first. His psychological thriller with horror-ific undertones is crafty, spooky, jumpy and wonderful.
And it wouldn’t work if it weren’t for the weirdly lived-in relationship among Nicole (Simone Signoret) – a hard-edged boarding school teacher – and the married couple that runs the school. Christina (Vera Clouzot) is a fragile heiress; her husband Michel (Paul Meurisse) is the abusive, blowhard school headmaster. Michel and Nicole are sleeping together, Christine knows, both women are friends, both realize he’s a bastard. Wonder if there’s something they can do about it.
What unravels is a mystery with a supernatural flavor that never fails to surprise and entrance. All the performances are wonderful, the black and white cinematography creates a spectral atmosphere, and that bathtub scene can still make you jump.
3. Cooties (2015)
Welcome to the dog eat dog and child eat child world of elementary school. Kids are nasty bags of germs. We all know it. It is universal truths like this that make the film Cooties as effective as it is.
What are some others? Chicken nuggets are repulsive. Playground dynamics sometimes take on the plotline of LORD OF THE FLIES. To an adult eye, children en masse can resemble a seething pack of feral beasts Directing team Jonathan Milott and Cary Murnion harness those truths and more – each pointed out in a script penned by a Leigh Whannell-led team of writers – to satirize the tensions to be found in an American elementary school.
2. Suspiria (2018)
Yes, we did choose the 2018 Guadagnino reboot. Argento’s 1977 original is magical and boasts super sadistic teachers. But none of them is played by Tilda Swinton, so—for this list—Guadagnino’s wins.
Swinton is glorious, isn’t she? And her chemistry with Dakota Johnson as Susie Bannion draws you into the story of the American ballet student who finds herself studying in a witches’ coven in a way that felt entirely different than it had in the ’77 version. But it’s not just Swinton. All the teachers at Berlin’s prestigious Markos Dance Academy feel wicked—well, at least those loyal to Markos.
1. The Faculty (1998)
Holy cow, this cast! The student body—Josh Hartnett, Elijah Wood, Clea Duval, Jordana Brewster, Usher!—face off against a teaching staff dreams are made of. Bebe Neuwirth! Jon Stewart! Salma Hayek! Piper Laurie! Famke Janssen! Robert Patrick!
Robert Rodriguez directs a script co-penned by Kevin Williamson (Scream, etc.) that finds the conformity machine of a high school as the perfect setting for an Invasion of the Body Snatchers riff. It’s darkly comical fun from beginning to end.
I want very much to love that Cate Blanchett keeps making Eli Roth movies. Maybe I could find that love if Roth would put her in something he knows how to make—a horror film—instead of trapping her inside a genre he can’t seem to figure out himself.
Borderlands is Roth’s big screen adaptation of a popular video game, a Mad Max style fantasy that follows low life bounty hunter Lilith (Blanchett) to a vile planet of opportunists and thieves on a quest to retrieve the kidnapped daughter of a mogul (Edgar Ramírez).
But daughter Tina (Ariana Greenblatt, Barbie) doesn’t want to be rescued and soon, begrudgingly, Lilith becomes part of Tina’s ragtag band of misfit heroes (along with Kevin Hart, Jamie Lee Curtis, Florian Munteanu and the voice of Jack Black).
That’s a good cast, top to bottom. Black and Blanchett co-led Roth’s 2018 misfire The House with a Clock in its Walls. It wasn’t a big miss. It was a fine if unremarkable adaptation of the John Bellairs novel for kids. But Blanchett and Black were fun.
This go-round, Black’s limited to pointless annoyance as he voices robot sidekick Claptrap. Blanchett is glorious, naturally, cutting an imposing video game figure with sly wit and grace. Greenblatt’s a bit of fun, Hart’s underused. But the cast is not the problem.
Roth feels out of sorts. The action is not compelling, the comic timing is way off, there’s little chemistry among his merry band, the stakes feel low, surprises are few, meaningful transitions from one set up to the next don’t exist, the FX are not great.
There are two main action set pieces (that’s not nearly enough, by the way) that could have amounted to something interesting: one with a car and a giant piss field monster and the second with an underground tunnel full of lunatics. Roth can’t generate either the exhilaration or the comedy the first calls for. The second comes closer—it’s a horror set up, truth be told, and that should be an easier fit for the filmmaker—and it’s a natural video game fit. It’s the closest he comes to excitement, but it’s belabored, its end an utter disappointment.
In the years since the It Ends With Us novel was released, author Colleen Hoover has admitted that her main characters were just too young. That mistake has been corrected for the film adaptation, although leaving behind the Young Adult trappings isn’t quite so easy.
Lily Bloom (Blake Lively) is now in her mid-30s, and meets Dr. Ryle Kincaid (now late 30s – a much more logical age for any neurosurgeon not named Doogie Houser) on the roof of his Boston apartment building. Lily’s up there to reflect on the recent death of her father, while Ryle (Justin Baldoni, who also directs) is headed up to blow off some steam – our first clue that he has a temper.
He’s a chisled, forever stubble-faced playboy, while she’s the flower shop owning “girl you take home to Mama,” so their relationship takes time to build. This patience works in the film’s favor.
Baldoni and screenwriter Christy Hall (fresh off the smartly provocative Daddio) layer the present day romance with effective flashbacks to teenaged Lily (Isabela Ferrer) and her first love, Atlas Corrigan (Alex Neustaedter). Back then, they helped each other cope with violence at home, but his Marine commitment pulled them apart after graduation.
So imagine the surprise when Atlas (Brandon Sklenar) turns out to be the owner of the hot new restaurant that Lily’s bestie Allysa (Jenny Slate) loves. Jealousy only adds fuel to Ryle’s dangerous behavior, which pulls Lily into an all-too-familiar cycle of disfunction.
Lively’s committed performance goes a long way toward easing the awkwardness of the contrivances at play. She allows us to feel Lily’s caution, which makes her desperate feelings of guilt resonate when the “accidents” begin to happen.
Slate is always a treat, but the slightly kooky best friend character seems a bit forced here, as does Baldoni’s reliance on interchangeable pop songs to continue the conversation.
This is a conversation worth having, and the film does manage some moments of poignancy. It also wisely chooses Atlas to serve more as a reminder to Lily than her savior. But nearly every issue the film addresses – such as the circumstances that make it difficult for women to leave abusive relationships – are raised and lowered with an efficient tidiness that betrays the story’s beginnings.
It End With Us still has YA in its blood, after all. It’s older, wiser, and has learned some hard lessons, but ultimately finds comfort in the string-pulling formula they love back home.
Set in Turin, Italy, complete with stunning shots of architecture and natural landscapes, The Beautiful Summer, written and directed by Laura Luchetti,gives a sun-stained window into a love story between two women: Ginia (Yile Yara Vianello) and Amelia (Deva Cassell). It takes place in 1938 when Mussolini’s fascist regime grew more powerful and restrictive by the day. Ginia, a seamstress at an atelier in the city, and Amelia, a figure model for painters, have a chance meeting that sparks a relationship of infatuation, jealousy, companionship, desperation, and love.
There are several things that this film does well, but the lack of connection and follow-through creates a problem.
One aspect that The Beautiful Summer gets right is its portrayal of emotion as something that can change with every passing moment. The film doesn’t shy away from the nuances of the progression of a relationship, especially one that is not socially acceptable in the time period. Cinematographer Diego Romero captures all of these moments beautifully and leans into the natural landscape to create symbolism and little vignettes that deepen the story.
This film is consistently underlined with desire, although ambiguous and confusing, with men acting as conduits for the electricity between Ginia and Amelia. Sometimes, cryptic messaging can be beneficial and enticing for the audience, but The Beautiful Summer overuses this device, weakening the plot.
Two key aspects that were more ambiguous than they should have been were the time and setting. Ginia and Amelia fall in love right before the Second World War, which would seemingly add more stakes to their relationship, but it is only hinted at with some soldiers in one of the sequences and one of Mussolini’s speeches playing in the background. Perhaps this is intentional— the nature of their story causes everything else to take a backseat— but it is not a compelling enough reason.
The Beautiful Summer generally lacked clarity and served as an experiential rollercoaster: emotional highs plummeting to disorienting lows. Furthermore, the film swathed itself in clichés that made its originality invisible. A young, impressionable, innocent girl meets a mature, extroverted, flirty woman. What could possibly happen next?
Although it was off to a promising start, The Beautiful Summer got lost in the heat of the moment and took too long to warm back up.
Simon Verhoeven’s biopic on Milli Vanilli’s meteoric rise and devastating fall is the subject of his latest film, Girl You Know It’s True. The film opens by stating that this is not only based on a true story but on several true stories. As much as we want our truth to be objective, we’re reminded that the retelling of events is often based on memory—a faulty, frequently contradictory, wholly subjective experience.
Of course, certain parts of the story are not in dispute. The duo that put the face to the group were Rob Pilatus (Tijan Njie) and Fab Morvan (Elan Ben Ali). Both were recruited by producer Frank Farian (Matthias Schweighöfer) after they were seen dancing by his live-in business partner, Milli (Bella Dayne).
After the initial agreement to work together, this is where the story gets interesting. Even those who know the tale will be drawn into the elaborate ruse Farian puts together – fusing vocals and performers, stealing songs from other artists to use as singles for his newest “project.”
While Farian’s role in Milli Vanilli’s story is critical, it’s Ali and Njie who tie it all together. Both embody the characters they play with naivety and enthusiasm – often in equal measure. Their deal with the devil is understandable. And anyone paying attention to music at the time is aware that while this arrangement may have been the most egregious in terms of deception, there were plenty of shady deals going around in record studios.
And while there’s no sympathy for Frank Farian, Schweighöfer does manage to imbue him with some compassion. Instead of coming across as a one-note villain, there’s a bit of humanity to the character.
The film excels at blending humor and tragedy into Rob and Fab’s story. That news reports would interrupt coverage of the United States’s war in Iraq to cover the “lip-syncing scandal” is the height of cultural absurdity. The tragedy comes in the fact that while this was a team effort, just as Rob and Fab were the faces of the group, so they were the scapegoats of its demise.
No one disputes that Rob and Fabrice were complicit in the deceit, but the price they paid seems too heavy compared to the producers, managers, and studio execs who claimed they were just as shocked by the news as everyone else. Their pockets were lined with the dollars of those fans who felt betrayed.
It’s an intriguing story that is as fascinating now as it was then.
Go ahead, Affleck, Damon and company. Say those words I like to hear.
“It’s a heist movie.”
Apple TV’s The Instigators is indeed a heist movie. There’s a plan, a snag, a hostage, a manhunt, and plenty of interesting characters well played by plenty of veteran talents. Director Doug Liman, coming off the rollicking good ride that was Road House, assembles all the parts with precision.
The sum just needs to be a little more fun.
Casey Affleck and Chuck MacLean provide a script that finds former Marine, Rory (Matt Damon), confiding in his therapist, Dr. Donna (Hong Chau), about his downward spiral and desperation for cash.
Rory finds an opportunity for acquiring exactly the $32, 400 he needs by teaming with alcoholic ex-con Cobby (Affleck) to pull a job for local goon Mr. Besegai (Michael Stuhlbarg). The guys simply need to rob the Boston mayor’s (Ron Perlman) big election night soiree at the yacht club, and they’ll get a slice of the take.
Not so fast, Massholes. Things go haywire, which sends the boys running from Besegai’s henchmen (Alfred Molina, Paul Walter Hauser), the cops and the mayor’s enforcer (Ving Rhames) while Rory reaches out to Dr. Donna for some affirmations.
Damon and Affleck create a nice pair of contrasting criminals. Damon’s forthright, note-taking approach to the heist often runs afoul of Affleck’s jaded pro, while Chau’s Dr. Donna won’t let any active felonies derail her from working on Rory’s emotional growth.
The stellar ensemble also gets plenty of room to sharpen the edges of their respective supporting characters. But even with witty dialog inside an ever-evolving fugitive journey, nothing ever becomes as outright funny as you’re hoping it would.
Like Rory, The Instigators seems most interested in getting the job done in a timely and competent manner. That’s fine, and you could find plenty of worse ways to spend 90 minutes. But if might have been nice to take Cobby’s approach and get a little reckless once in a while.
Have you ever seen A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2: Freddy’s Revenge? Because you should, especially if you find yourself intrigued by the plot synopsis for Colby Holt and Sam Probst’s LGBTQ+ horror Ganymede.
In the Nightmare sequel, everything young Jesse Walsh sees around him—his gym teacher’s S&M outfit, the neighborhood bar where men make out with other men in the stairwell, shirtless frenemy Ron Grady—all seem to be pointing him toward his own homosexuality. Meanwhile, a shadowy menace stalks his nightmares, clearly a representation of the terror and horror he associates with the sexual orientation he’s unwilling to recognize.
If that’s not how you read that film, rewatch it because it’s clearly there in every frame.
Holt and Probst are not hiding their agenda behind slasher antics to maximize audience size. High school wrestler Lee Fletcher (Jordan Doww) buries his feelings and repeats the mantra I’m neither gay nor bisexual, I’m straight and heterosexual. But he knows the truth, and his parents—the honorable Big Lee Fletcher (veteran talent Joe Chrest) and tradwife Floy (Robyn Lively)—suspect it. But they all know that the fear of God is enough to turn the boy straight.
Except, of course, that it’s not. And when Lee finds himself drawn to sweet, out-and-proud Kyle (Pablo Castelblanco, the dearest kid), a repugnant, demonic image begins to stalk him. Seriously fundamentalist preacher Pastor Royer (David Koechner, solid) comes to the rescue with his own recipe for salvation.
The filmmakers, working from Holt’s script, juggle societal pressure, family trauma and damaging fundamentalist beliefs with a genuine tenderness for adolescence. A film that sometimes bares its budget gets a boost from Koechner, and the vulnerability Castelblanco brings to his darling character keeps tensions very high.
Doww, on the other hand, struggles to find a whole human inside this smothered, denied young man. Chrest is wasted with an underwritten cliché of a role and Lively’s character arc needed more development, particularly as it relates to Paster Royer.
But there is a refreshing boldness in Ganymede. The conflict between Kyle and Lee parallels those between the ordinary high school students and Carrie White. The idea that homosexuality is somehow abnormal is now the utterly backwards and ridiculous notion and those who cling to it are hypocrites and bullies.
So, give Ganymede a chance. And then, if you like it even a little bit, give yourself the gift of Freddy’s Revenge, no matter how many times you’ve already seen it. That movie was ahead of its time.
