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That Seventies Show

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The Man in the White Van

by Hope Madden

A teen prone to exaggeration is disbelieved when she tells of a white van following her around her small Florida town. Working from a script he wrote with Sharon Y. Cobb, director Warren Skeels recreates a time when doors were left unlocked, and rebels were listening to Credence instead of the Partridge Family for his true crime thriller The Man in the White Van.

It’s 1975, but as Annie (Madison Wolfe, The Conjuring 2) tries to protect herself, Skeels takes us back to 1974, 1973, 1972, 1971, 1970 with the menacing van and the other girls nobody believed.  

The story is ostensibly based on Billy Mansfield Jr.’s Seventies era crime binge, although no name is given to the driver stalking Florida streets. Skeels’s framing device—present-day Seventies storytelling punctuated with vignettes from across the murder spree—is reminiscent of Anna Kendrick’s Woman of the Hour. But where Kendrick used cutaways to serial killer Rodney Alcala’s previous victims to deepen our understanding of the psychopath and humanize his victims, Skeels uses it to tweak tension as we wait for what is to come for young Annie.

Skeels also develops anxiety with Seventies style hijinks—the frustration of a busy signal and rotary phone dialing when in a real hurry.  

Ali Larter and Sean Astin, who also serve as executive producers, help to generate a believable family dynamic as Annie’s loving but skeptical parents. Though the balance of performances are not bad, the writing is superficial enough that the ensemble can’t carve out much in the way of personality. Worse, scenes last a beat too long, the camera often lingering on each line long enough that the unnaturalness, the performance itself, becomes evident.

Interestingly, there’s something about this particular falseness and the sloppiness in the script that actually reflects Seventies horror, which is kind of fun—sort of the The Town that Dreaded Sundown era, before tropes dug in and determined every story beat.

Where Kendrick attempted to push the conversation about serial murder and horror in a fresh direction, Skeels reaches back toward an older version of the story. It doesn’t make for as compelling a film, but The Man in the White Van has its charm.

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Still Standing

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Elton John: Never Too Late

by George Wolf

It’s not easy to quickly sum up the legendary career of Elton John. He is the most successful solo artist in the history of the Billboard chart, he’s in the EGOT club, he’s raised millions for AIDS research, he’s been busy.

The Disney + doc Never Too Late follows Elton on his journey to be less busy, wrapping up a two-year farewell tour with a final North American show at Dodger Stadium in L.A. At age 77, he’s looking to be more available to husband David Furnish and their two young boys, and the film provides some sweet, fleeting glimpses into their home life.

But Furnish, who co-directs with R.J. Cutler, is mainly out to craft a historical bridge between Elton’s original Dodger stadium shows and his recent swan song. Those two sold out concerts in 1975 cemented Elton’s status as the biggest pop star in the world, and Never Too Late spends the bulk of its time reminding us how his career was first born, and then how it grew to those legendary heights in the 70s.

There is plenty of impressive archival footage (including a young Elton pulling out a page from some Bernie Taupin notebook lyrics and explaining how the words inspired his music to “Tiny Dancer”), and Elton’s description of his depression amid worldwide success is heartfelt, but too much of the film seems calculated.

While the excellent biopic Rocketman benefitted from its senses of unpredictability, self-aware honesty and zest, Never Too Late feels a bit controlled, as if Furnish was too close to its subject for a more well-rounded treatment. The worst years of Elton’s addiction and career are barely mentioned, moving the timeline quickly from 1975 straight to his sobriety in 1990, and then to preparations before the final L.A. farewell.

For Elton’s legions of fans (full disclosure: including me), Never Too Late will be a nostalgic and hit-filled salute. And if you don’t expect much more depth than a super-deluxe souvenir tour book, you’ll be plenty satisfied.

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The Hills Have Lies

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The Order

by George Wolf

Director Justin Kurzel announced his presence with authority in 2011 via The Snowtown Murders, a debut that showed the Aussie in full command of crafting a true crime story that pulsates with tension and simmering evil.

Kurzel’s setting is now the U.S., but he’s on familiar ground – and delivering similar results – with The Order, based on the violent domestic terror movement profiled in the 1990 book The Silent Brotherhood.

Jude Law is fantastic as Terry Husk, an FBI agent sent to Idaho to investigate a series of violent bank robberies across the Pacific Northwest. With some help from local lawman Jamie Bowen (Tye Sheridan), Husk becomes convinced that the heists are meant to bankroll the work of domestic terrorists planning to wage a race war and eventually overthrow the U.S. government.

He’s right, of course, and Marc Maron’s early appearance as talk radio host Alan Berg will help jog some memories. The crimes were the work of The Order, a white supremacist group led by Bob Mathews (Nicholas Hoult, who’s having a helluva year). Mathews broke away from Aryan Nation founder Richard Butler to pursue a more violent agenda, and connecting these two faces of the same evil is just one of the ways Kurzel keeps the history lesson gripping and vital.

“Just be patient,” Butler implores Mathews. “In ten years we’ll have members in Congress. That’s how you make change.”

You bet that line hangs pretty damn heavy in the air, but screenwriter Zach Baylin (King Richard, Creed III) never overplays his ominous hand. The relevance of this case hardly needs a neon sign to mark it, and Baylin and Kurzel favor a more nuanced reflection that can attack the present that much harder.

That’s not to say the film is not intense. Even if you could ignore all the true in these crimes, the procedural and manhunting layers of the story (especially once Jurnee Smollett arrives with FBI backup) make for a compelling thriller on their own. Kurzel engineers some crackling car chases and shootouts, while the entire ensemble – led by Law’s tortured outrage and Hoult’s sociopathic charm – boasts grit and authenticity.

In short, The Order is another example of Kurzel’s skill as a craftsman. He again re-imagines case history with the taut instincts of a narrative storyteller, leaving nothing but hard, compelling truths behind.

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Bark at the Moon

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Nightbitch

by Hope Madden

There’s something wrong with Mother.

That’s the only name we have for Amy Adams’s character in Marielle Heller’s darkly surreal comedy Nightbitch, because it’s all we really need to know about her. Whatever she was before Baby (Arleigh and Emmet Snowden, adorable)—a successful artist, as it turns out—hardly matters now. Some time before the opening credits rolled, she gave that up to be a stay-at-home mother. And like most humans on the planet, she had no real idea what parenthood would mean.

Adams is wonderful at articulating with a gesture or a glance the loneliness and isolation, the weariness and guilt and self-loathing that can seep into days spent truly loving the tiny, filthy, needy little monster eating up every waking second of your life.

But in case you miss it, Heller’s script, penned with Rachel Yoder, allows her a number of alternative ways to beat you about the head and neck with it. These include voiceover narration as well as fantasy sequences where she screams at and slaps those who insult or underestimate her. Plus, of course, there’s the larger metaphor at work in which Mother embraces her inner bitch goddess and indeed turns into a feral dog at night.

Parenting is exhausting, especially if it’s not a truly shared responsibility. Society is set up to judge women whether they work or stay home, and no matter how their kids behave. Adams delivers a delightfully subversive take on motherhood and navigates tough material to carve out a sympathetic and funny character. But the metaphor itself—Heller’s touch with magical realism—weaken rather than strengthen the effort.

The real problems with Nightbitch, though, are all first world. These parents can afford to live in a big, spacious suburban neighborhood on one income. Mother’s artist friends can afford nannies, and her “Book Baby” mommies also all seem to flourish financially without a second income.

Which is to say that Mother’s choice to give up her career and stay home with her son, while fraught with self-sacrifice, feels more like privilege than burden since most parents have no such choice in front of them.

And if the problems are only for the wealthy, the solutions are equally out of reach for most audiences. Which makes it hard to root for Mother, no matter how truly (and characteristically) excellent Adams is.

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And Hustle

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Flow

by Hope Madden

Have you felt recently like the world as you know it has changed irreparably, everything around you is dangerous chaos, and those who were once family are no longer reliable so you have to kind of cobble together a new tribe or go it alone?

Cat knows your pain.

Gints Zilbalodis’s stunning animated film Flow follows the solitary feline through a lush world where it does what it can to remain aloof and alone—fleeing other creatures, particularly those rambunctious dogs, to find its quiet spot in the top floor of an empty home. The time period is unspecific but ancient, the attention to detail magnificent, and the animation breathtaking.

A flood is coming, and this little black cat will have to work in tandem with a handful of other strays—one capybara, a lemur, a secretarybird, and a dog—in an abandoned boat to survive the rising tide.

There’s no dialog and precious little anthropomorphism to be found. That may sound like it could keep an audience at arm’s length, but quite the opposite results. The surprisingly natural, primal behavior of the animals, particularly in peril, gives Flow an anguished kind of thrill that is gripping.

The animals have personalities in keeping with their species (the capybara can’t be bullied or bothered; the lemur collects and covets shiny things; the dog is big, dumb and friendly) and Zilbalodis gives over to magical realism sparingly.

The animals’ surroundings, even in moments of catastrophe, are rendered with such care and beauty they almost conjure Miyazaki. Almost. That Zilbalodis crafted such gorgeously animated scenes entirely with an open-source platform to keep budget in check is indie genius that would be only a gimmick were his storytelling instincts less stellar.

The dog doesn’t look great. I have no idea why that is, but it can pull you out of certain scenes.

Otherwise, there’s not much opportunity to slight this animated Latvian treasure sure to scoop up awards nominations this season. Catch it on the big screen while you can.

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Leader of the Pack

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Werewolves

by Hope Madden

A supermoon is a full moon that occurs as the moon is at its closest to the earth in its orbit. And this one time, the supermoon turned everyone touched by its moonlight into werewolves.

Wow. I bet that would be a fascinating movie. But that’s not the movie writer Matthew Kennedy and director Steven C. Miller are making. Their Werewolves, starring Frank Grillo, takes place one year after the supermoon that turned everyone in its light into bloodthirsty monsters. Tonight’s the night of the next supermoon, and folks are expecting the evening is about to get pretty hairy.

Who can save us?

Oh, wait. Did I say Grillo? Well, there you go.

The film feels quite a bit like The Purge with werewolves: it’s over in one night, no emergency facilities until daybreak, don’t get caught outside, pray nothing outside wants to get in.

Grillo plays a physicist with a military background whose team has been working on a vaccine. Will it work?

It has to work, damn it! We can’t survive last year’s bloodbath all over again!

It is a funny notion – beginning with what is essentially the sequel. Anyone could change if the moonlight hits them, which makes you wonder why people don’t make the universal decision to walk in the moonlight. Would werewolves kill each other with nobody else left to eat? Another possibly fun movie, but that’s not this movie.

Apparently, most folks do not want to take the chance. But Grillo has to risk it—he’s been separated from his family and must make it through the city, the wolves and the moonlight to get back to them.

There’s a vaccine spray (it only lasts one hour!), goggled children in rain slickers, post-apocalyptic zealots, gun-happy militia types, and his own limited ammo.

But let’s talk about what really matters: the monsters. How do they look?

Mainly, OK, kind of The Howling meets Rawhead Rex. Practical elements account for the old school look, which is more than welcome and fuels the grindhouse vibe. But the truth is that this is a siege action film more than a horror flick.

There’s lots of gunplay, along with some car explosions and werewolf fist fights—paw fights? It’s ridiculous fun. And if you got full moon fever as soon as you heard “Grillo’s in a werewolf action flick,” Werewolves won’t disappoint.

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Party Over Oops, Out of Time

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Y2K

by George Wolf

Who can forget those crazy few years when people like my Mom were buying books called “Time Bomb 2000,” and then it struck midnight on 12/31/99 and…nothing much happened.

With Y2K, director and co-writer Kyle Mooney reimagines that New Year’s Eve as a night when plenty happens. The double zero year wreaks technological havoc that’s even worse than the doomsayers warned, and a bunch of teenage New York partygoers have to fight for their lives while reminding us about everything 90s.

Eli (Jaeden Martell) and Danny (Julian Dennison) are lifelong BFFs (“the Sticky Boys!”) but pretty low on the high school status bar. Eli pines for the pop-u-lar Laura (Rachel Zegler), and figures the big NYE party that they’re not really invited to might be his best chance to steal a midnight smooch.

So the Sticky Boys crash. But what the F? The start of a new millenium instantly turns everyday tech into killing machines, and bodies start piling up with a succession of comical blood-splatter.

Mooney co-wrote the underrated Brigsby Bear in 2017, but Y2K marks his first directing effort. He also joins the cast as a relentlessly upbeat hippie stoner, adding to the film’s array of characters who are sufficiently amusing inside some usual high schooler stereotypes.

And as the kids head out across Brooklyn looking for a safe haven, Mooney plays with zombie outbreak tropes while Fred Durst has some fun sending up his own image. There are laughs to be had before things get overly silly, but Mooney finds his groove by serving up plenty of nostalgic callbacks that will hit 90s kids in the feels and give the older viewers some knowing smiles and head nods.

I mean, remember how long it used to take just to burn one freaking compact disc?

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Santa Actually

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That Christmas

by Hope Madden

More than two decades ago, writer/director Richard Curtis made a very British Christmas film. It hasn’t aged particularly well, though many folks watch it year in, year out. Including, apparently, the inhabitants of Wellington-on-Sea.

Now, that may be because That Christmas—the new animated film set in the little port village—was co-written by Curtis. The Love Actually joke is a good bit in director Simon Otto’s holiday tale that’s a bit disjointed but never lacking in charm.

The film opens with Santa (Brian Cox—wait, really?) narrating the climax of one particularly problematic Christmas Eve night in the tiny community. The worries are larger than just this massive blizzard. But to do it all justice, Santa has to take us back a few days, to the school Christmas play.

One set of twins is split on the naughty and nice lists. One tween girl, left to care for her baby sister and three other children, breaks tradition but may also be negligent enough to allow tragedy to occur. And lonesome Danny (Jack Wisniewski) fears he will spend Christmas utterly alone.

Curtis, writing with Peter Souter, creates another crisscrossing of bittersweet, intimate, interconnected Christmas stories. And once again, Bill Nighy (this time voicing the character Lighthouse Bill) is underused.

The animation is delightful, the humor decidedly British, and the hijinks wholesome but relatable and often bittersweet. One bit about an under-appreciated single mum is not only beautifully tender but also quite welcome.

But none of it is particularly funny, or terribly fresh.

Five years ago, Netflix produced Klaus, a Christmas story that was stunning to look at and full of surprises. This year’s holiday offering is a charmer, and its understated humor and wry observations help to keep it engaging regardless of your age. But that’s not enough for That Christmas to transcend the glut of Christmas fare this year (and every year) to become an annual tradition.

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Jolly Holiday

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Get Away

by Hope Madden

It’s not a terribly unique set up. A carful of travelers stops off just before their destination and the surly local, upon hearing of their destination, warns them. They mustn’t go! It is doom!

Well, that’s not exactly the message. What the surly diner owner tells Richard (Nick Frost, who also writes), Susan (Aisling Bea) and their kids Jessie (Maisie Ayers) and Sam (Sebastian Croft) is that Svälta is not a tourist destination and that the Swedish islanders will be especially unwelcoming during this, their sacred celebration.

Pish posh, they’ve rented an Airbnb. They’ll take the last ferry, face the incredibly unwelcoming islanders, and find their way to the cozy little cottage where their host Mats (Eero Milonof, Border) lost his mother by beheading about 10 years ago.

Says Jessie, “My phone’s got no signal.”

Responds her brother, “Of course it hasn’t. We’ve come on holiday to a Swedish horror film.”

Even though Get Away quickly veers into Wicker Man territory by way of Midsommar, director Steffan Haars has already established the darkly humorous vibe that will permeate the film. But this is not a horror spoof as much as it is a retooling of genre tropes meant to keep you on your toes.

Frost and Bea make for a fun duo, a dorky pair just trying to have a nice holiday and keep their kids from getting too bored. Milonof delivers an unsettling villainous vibe, as is his way, but the comic elements here allow him to flex a new muscle.

Ayres and Croft steal scenes as a pair of teens ironically commenting on everything around them, their lofty adolescent mockery of anything and everything often serving for some well-placed comedy. Ayers even gets a couple of moments of emotional honesty, which she nails.

The film’s never frightening, but it does get bloody. The island population and all they’re planning feels a bit undercooked and the red herring is forgettable, but the core cast is having enough fun to keep the film upbeat and entertaining. With some well-placed Iron Maiden and an odd cover of the old Toto Coelo tune “I Eat Cannibals,” the soundtrack keeps you intrigued as well.