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Ain’t Got No Swing

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London Calling

by Rachel Willis

Charming isn’t usually the first word to spring to mind when describing a movie about a down-on-his-luck hitman. However, that’s the word that comes up when thinking about director Allan Ungar’s film, London Calling.

Tommy Ward (Josh Duhamel) flees London for sunny Los Angeles after a hit goes terribly wrong. He finds similar work with a new employer, Benson (Rick Hoffman). Somehow, Ward also finds himself the unlikely caretaker of Benson’s son, Julian (Jeremy Ray Taylor, It). Tasked with turning Julian into a man, Ward takes him along on a series of hits. 

London Calling is suffused with humor, from the opening scenes through several bloody shootouts. Throw in Julian’s interest in LARP-ing and a penchant for Furry porn, and London Calling delivers the right mix for a solidly funny movie. 

Ungar’s script, co-written with Omer Levin Menekse and Quinn Wolfe, is very predictable, but Duhamel and Taylor’s chemistry keeps it fun. Their pairing is delightful. Duhamel plays to his strengths as a hitman who could clearly use a pair of glasses but refuses them. Taylor is believable both as a crime lord’s son (with a certain ambivalence toward violence), as well as a LARP-obsessed kid.

The film falters during its climax. Too many threads come together in unsatisfying ways. Worse still, London Calling loses its sense of humor and veers too close to melodrama. 

Thankfully, it’s a brief misstep, and the overall effect is a solidly funny, enjoyable film about two charismatic outcasts.

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Don’t Waste It Living Someone Else’s Life

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Everything to Me

by Rachel Willis

For a young woman growing up in Silicon Valley during Apple’s heyday, the role model for her coming-of-age journey is none other than Steve Jobs.

Writer/director Kayci Lacob has a new take on the perils of growing up in her film, Everything to Me.

The film opens on an adult Claudia (Victoria Pedretti) at a reading for her new book, The Book of Jobs. What starts as a reading turns into voice over narration as we follow Claudia through several life stages.

The most impactful iteration occurs with tween Claudia (Eliza Donaghy), who uses the words of her idol to not only navigate her parents’ tumultuous divorce, but to correctly insert a tampon for the first time. There is a lot of heart and warmth in these moments.

However, the bulk of the film follows teen Claudia (Abigail Donaghy). It’s apparent that Claudia’s hero worship has become off-putting to her best friend (Lola Flanery), reflecting, unfortunately, the way it feels to the audience as well. Claudia’s hero-worship no longer feel like a natural extension of her character, but a script she follows rather than lives.

This is a theme throughout the film: live life as it happens rather than trying to live by someone else’s bucket list. However, our teenage Claudia never quite comes across as someone who truly believes in what she does and how she lives.

But the film comes alive in other ways, mostly in the characters who surround Claudia. Particularly vibrant is way she navigates her relationships—with her mom (a winning Judy Greer), her dad, a favorite teacher, and the boy who likes her.

In these moments, the film excels, making it easier to brush aside less interesting and less believable scenes.

Growing up is never easy, Claudia’s journey toward finding herself delivers a memorable reminder of that..

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Viva la Revolution

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Sudan, Remember Us

by Rachel Willis

“Each time one revolutionary falls a thousand others stand up!”

Sudan has appeared in the news off-and-on for years. The region has been plagued by coups, civil war, terrorism, genocide, and oppression of anyone who dared resist the regimes in power.

It’s poignant for Hind Meddeb to name her documentary Sudan, Remember Us, as she forces our attention once again to a region plagued by war and uncertainty.

A bit of history may be helpful for those unfamiliar with situation in Sudan. The coup that overthrew the 30-year rule of President Omar al-Bashir in 2019 was meant to lead to democratic, civilian rule. But the military council set up to act as a transitionary government has not released its hold on the citizens of the Sudan. The film assumes a certain knowledge, but even without any historical knowledge, it’s clear what the people want and who they resist.

For several young activists and artists living in Khartoum, the fight for democracy is a daily battle. Meddeb drops us into the realities of a sit-in, a form of civil disobedience. She lets several men and women speak to why they demand change. They discuss the best ways to protest, to keep fighting when those in power want to break them.

The footage of the sit-in is juxtaposed with a military crackdown, accompanied by scenes of chaos. Gunshots, explosions, and beatings are caught on camera phones, many wielded by the perpetrators of the violence. It’s a disturbing reaction to the peaceful nature of the sit-in.

The scenes of viciousness help underscore the words of the protestors who speak to the importance of continuing to oppose the military government. They recite poetry, sing songs, march, and find as many ways as they can to register their disapproval with the situation as it stands.

The ways in which Meddeb allows these young men and women to open up, sometimes addressing her directly, creates an intimacy between the audience and the participants. The film does as much as it can to make us feel like we’re witnessing history as it unfolds, even as the result remains uncertain.

It’s a powerful testament to the importance of film (and art in general) in the making of history.

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Last Goodbye

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It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley

by Rachel Willis

Director Amy Berg (Janis: Little Girl Blue) paints an intimate portrait of songwriter Jeff Buckley in her documentary, It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley.

Berg understands her subject and skillfully weaves the story of Buckley’s life, which is bookended by tragedy.

Buckley’s mom (Mary Guibert) opens up about the tumultuous early years of Jeff’s life. With a father who abandoned his six-month pregnant wife, Buckley had no relationship with a man to whom he would draw comparison in later life.

Buckley’s biological father was singer/songwriter Tim Buckley, and as Jeff started to make a name for himself, those constant comparisons would wear on him. Berg artfully navigates these early years of Jeff’s career while he struggled to distance himself from his absentee father.

Berg weaves archival footage into the film, often using recordings of Buckley to invigorate interviews with Jeff’s friends and family. The footage helps the audience to know the person to whom everyone has such touching words.

Unfortunately, there are times when the film drags a bit as it becomes repetitive. A lot of similar ground is trod over the course of the film’s runtime, and Berg doesn’t bring anything new to the genre of music documentary.

It can also be hard to watch people talk about events in hindsight, particularly when the subject of such conversation is unable to weigh in on those opinions. There is speculation of Buckley’s mental state, perhaps that he suffered from bipolar disorder and psychosis. While this may be true, it’s difficult to judge the truth of someone’s memories 20 years on. It’s Buckley’s haunting cover of Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah that plays over the words of those who speak of Jeff after his death. It is undeniably an exquisite cover and a fitting tribute to a life cut tragically short.

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Be Loud

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Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore

by Rachel Willis

In 1986, Marlee Matlin won the Academy Award for her performance in the film Children of a Lesser God. Nearly three decades later, she remained the only Deaf actor to win an Oscar. This, as well as Matlin’s trailblazing career, is the focus of director Shoshannah Stern’s documentary, Marlee Matlin: Not Alone Anymore.

Stern herself is also Deaf, and there are many wonderful moments when she and Matlin (as well as Stern with other Deaf actors) converse on screen without sound. The film makes extensive use of subtitles and closed captioning, but if a hearing audience member were to simply watch the two communicate on screen it’s a good example of how a Deaf person may feel when surrounded by hearing people who may forget to include them in conversation.

This is something Matlin addresses, as she was the only Deaf member of her family. It is also a reminder that this sort of exclusion can lead to significant language deprivation for individuals with hearing impairment. This is a critical issue that the documentary touches on when speaking to Matlin about some of the situations in which she was unable to name her experiences.

Like the 2000 documentary, Sound and Fury, Matlin and others are quick to point out that they are not limited in their abilities. It’s the world around them that tries to force them into a box where their “disability” is a problem to be solved not a difference to be celebrated.

The bulk of the documentary focuses on Matlin’s career and role as an advocate for the Deaf community. Closed captioning, something modern audiences may take for granted, was once a rarity. Matlin’s efforts, including a hearing before Congress, ensured that closed captioning would be a given moving forward.

There isn’t a dull moment in this documentary. Stern expertly weaves Matlin’s career and activism into an overall conversation about the needs of Deaf people, and the ways in which we can all do better moving forward. It’s certainly a film worth watching.

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God Defend New Zealand

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Prime Minister

by Rachel Willis

New Zealand’s former prime minister, Jacinda Ardern, is the subject of directors Lindsay Utz and Michelle Walshe’s documentary, Prime Minister.

The film starts with Ardern’s election as leader for her country’s Labour Party, seeking to rescue it from gloomy poll numbers. That she actually wins the position of Prime Minister just a few weeks later comes as a bit of a shock, most of all to Ardern.

Ardern is an interesting central figure for the film. She was only 37 when elected, and even more fascinatingly, was pregnant at the time. She becomes the second woman in history to give birth while in a position of government leadership at that level.

But the documentary leans into the personal over the political, seeking to humanize Ardern and understand her approach to governance. It captures intimate moments in which Ardern gives voice to those emotions that leaders often have to hide from public view.

However, Utz and Walshe never dig too deeply into any one subject. Prime Minister neither focuses long enough on her political leadership nor her family life. At times, it even drags as it hops from one event to the next.

That’s not to say that the events that took place during Ardern’s time in office were without consequence. While leaders may always experience tumultuous events over the course of their tenure, Ardern’s seems especially marked by tragedy.

The film picks up speed in the second half, as Ardern faces an unprecedented event with the arrival of Covid-19 virus to New Zealand. The filmmakers devote the most time and attention here, rightfully, as it becomes Ardern’s biggest challenge as Prime Minister.

If the point of the documentary is to humanize those we elect to power, then it hits the nail on the head. Ardern herself opens the film with a plea to humanize those with whom we disagree. It’s a poignant message in a world that seems increasingly fraught with political turmoil.

It’s unfortunate that message will likely be lost to those who most need to hear it.

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Inconvenient Arrangement

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Sister Midnight

by Rachel Willis

Watching the trailer for writer/director Karan Kandhari’s film Sister Midnight did not prepare me for the wild ride I was about to take. It is best to go into this movie knowing as little as possible, so each change in direction allows for surprise. For that reason, I will give away as little as I can.

When Uma (Radhika Apte) travels into the city to marry Gopal (Ashok Pathak) in an arranged marriage, she doesn’t know exactly what to expect. She and Gopal knew each other as children, but it’s clear they no longer have any idea what makes the other one tick.

We’re treated to several comedic moments as these two newlyweds navigate their shared space in one very tiny apartment on a busy street. However, the comedy quickly gives way to Uma’s despair.

As her misery grows, she finds herself unable to eat, but the only thing her female neighbors seem to notice is how pale she appears. Many of them ask her which whitening cream she uses.

This is one example of how deeply embedded into the culture the film lies. While most of the film’s details transcend culture, Kandhari doesn’t beat anyone over the head with extraneous information. Some things will likely go over the heads of anyone unfamiliar with India’s cultural history and background, but the audience can still identify with how Uma feels, which keeps the story relatable.

Though Sister Midnight retains its humor, it’s impossible to deny the sadness that underlies it. As the film progresses, Kandhari peppers in horror elements. A couple of scenes even reminded me of Ari Aster’s Midsommar, though Sister Midnight never delves so deeply into outright terror.

Apte excels as the woman whose husband is incomprehensible to her. Equally enjoyable is Pathak’s turn as the bumbling spouse who is just as perplexed by his new wife.

Sister Midnight is funny, horrifying, and a little sad—a nice blend for an interesting take on surviving an unhappy marriage.

Outtakes

Fatherhood of the Future

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Daddy

by Rachel Willis

In a sterile conference room, a man speaks to a disembodied voice coming from a speaker. The voice is trying to determine if the man is the right kind of person to go on a government retreat that will decide if he would make a suitable father. If he’s not chosen, he will instead receive a vasectomy. So begins the dystopian comedy, Daddy.

Writers/directors Neal Kelley and Jono Sherman have crafted a new kind of hellscape with their look at toxic masculinity, the fear of vulnerability, and the competition that springs from the kind of scarcity that would lead a government to screen potential parents.

As four men arrive at the scenic mountain home, we’re given bits and pieces of the world that has given rise to such a scenario.  Mo (Pomme Koch) tells the others his girlfriend is at the female version of the retreat. The two decided to be screened at the same time. But while the men are housed in the lap of luxury, the women are apparently put through a more intense screening process. The subtle details that we pick up during the film’s run time make what we see on screen more interesting.

The men begin to descend into paranoia, leading to a certain amount of comedy as they try to decide what will make them seem like they’d be good fathers. The discovery of a realistic baby doll amps up the comedy.

Each actor brings a certain rigidity to their character that plays well with the idea that men have a hard time embracing their emotions. Scenes when the characters do display some vulnerability feel awkward – perfectly encapsulating how difficult some men find it to open up to other men.

When the film remembers that there is humor to be mined from such a situation, it shines. When it forgets, it becomes tedious.

However, it’s not hard to imagine this world, and Kelley and Sherman have fun wondering how men might react to the absurdity of it all.

Outtakes

I’ll Make Sandwiches

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Relative Control

by Rachel Willis

Sara (Teri Polo) has her hands full. Her adult son is living on the other side of the country and is still dependent on her. Her aging parents are beginning to show signs of mental and physical decline. And she was just hired to handle the biggest case of her career as a corporate attorney.

How can one woman balance all of this? This is the focus of director Dafna Yachin’s film, Relative Control. Working from a script by Charlene Davis, Yachin understands how much of a family’s responsibilities fall to women, even when they have lives of their own to consider.

More and more, this scenario has become the reality for middle-aged Americans. Sara, a single woman with no partner to rely on for financial or emotional support, is lucky enough to have a high-powered job that allows her son to live off – rather than with – her as she juggles work and familial obligations.

There’s an exasperated humor that lies at the heart of the movie. As Sara interacts with her stubborn parents, her father especially, you can’t help but chuckle at the situation. It’s very relatable.

Sara’s age is a significant factor. For those with careers, this tends to be the time in life when the demands of work rise as one climbs the corporate ladder. As the sole child responsible for her parents, Sara’s worlds start to collide with more and more frequency. There are a lot of things an audience can relate to as we watch Sara struggle to maintain balance.

But not everything in Sara’s life is so easy to identify with. Most working adults don’t have the kind of career that affords a son to fly home from the other side of the country at seemingly every crisis.

The characters do help to keep the story familiar. They likely resemble members of your own family, and as we watch the family interact, it’s not hard to care about them.

Relative Control is not a perfect representation of the “sandwich generation”—the one still supporting adult children when the need to support their own parents comes around—but it resonates nonetheless.

Outtakes

Dream Scenario

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Shudderbugs

by Rachel Willis

The ability to dream of things that happened or will happen is part of the family mythology that permeates writer/director (and star), Johanna Putnam’s film, Shudderbugs.

As we learn from Sam (Putnam), shudderbugs was what her mother, Eliza, called the eerie premonitions and feelings that allowed her to know when something was going to happen. After Eliza’s death, Sam begins having these same feelings as she explores what happened to her mom.

Grief, and the whys that surround death, are the main focus of Putnam’s quiet, contemplative film. We learn through a slow unfolding that Eliza’s death was unexpected. A visit with Sam for her birthday was big on Eliza’s mind, as we see reminders throughout the house of the expected visit.

The first inkling that something isn’t quite right occurs when Sam can’t find her mother’s dog. Then, the neighbor acts very strangely. The results from her mother’s autopsy require further tests. Sam’s suspicions grow as she uncovers new pieces of information while spending several days in her mother’s rural house.

The setting of Putnam’s film, upstate New York, speaks to tranquility. The gorgeous surroundings make it hard to feel that something is amiss, but there are moments that unnerve: sounds from inside the creaky old house, dolls set up in cribs and highchairs around the garage attic, and the neighbor who is wonderfully “off.” It’s hard not to be sucked in to the mystery, especially as Sam starts to experience her own shudderbugs.

The film starts off very strong, but it never quite pulls off the sense of dread that’s expected with such unusual circumstance. Sam carries the vast majority of the film. Unfortunately, Putnam’s talents are far better behind the camera. Her acting is fine, but not the caliber needed for such a quiet character study.

However, for all the weaknesses, the film’s strengths are far more engaging. The writing is exceptional, and the unsettling questions that surround an unexpected death lend themselves well to the film. While there are some moments that stumble, the overall experience is worth the time.