Tag Archives: Rachel Willis

No Treat

Dutch

by Rachel Willis

Drug kingpin Bernard “Dutch” James (Lance Gross) rules the streets of Newark, New Jersey. In co-directors Preston A. Whitmore II and David Wolfgang’s film Dutch, we watch the primary event that frames this crime thriller: Dutch is put on trial for an act of domestic terrorism.

There is some mystery when the film opens. Is Dutch truly guilty of the crime? Is he being railroaded by the system? We get a glimpse of Dutch committing a crime as a teenager, but nothing at the level of what he’s on trial for. It’s easy to wonder if this is a set-up.

Whitmore and Wolfgang don’t sustain the mystery for long. It’s quickly forgotten as we bounce between past and present. You sense a powerful theme, but the movie isn’t interested in more than a surface reference to the legal system’s injustices.

Dutch maintains a decent balance between the events of the past and the present drama. Unfortunately, the film contains quite a few dull moments. We’re forced to watch a prosecutor’s entire opening statement, which is about as boring as they are in real life. There’s a lengthy discussion about a meatball that could’ve been funny had it been delivered with more conviction by characters with a little more meat to their roles.

And the acting is sometimes painful. Gross is the best of the bunch, but Dutch never seems truly dangerous. Gross brings the right amount of charisma to the character, but there’s nothing sinister. His history, as it plays on the screen, speaks to heinous crimes, but there’s never a moment where we feel we’re in the presence of someone who is capable of that level of cruelty – even as we’re watching him commit these shocking acts.

This is the first film in a planned trilogy, but it’s hard to muster up the interest in any sequels after a painful first installment.

Rough Around the Edges

Sometime Other than Now

by Rachel Willis

Opening on a man sprawled on the beach, a crashed motorcycle and a wallet floating into the ocean, Sometime Other Than Now is immediately intriguing. Written and directed by Dylan McCormick, this is a quickly-paced drama that will just as quickly hook you.

The pacing of the film is the first thing that stands out. It’s faster than you might expect. Characters pop up and interact rapid fire. In the age of the slow-burn, it takes a minute to adjust. But it’s rewarding to watch as instant attractions pay off, as we come to know the characters and their situations. Not every question is answered immediately, but you’ll enjoy yourself as you wait for the solutions.

The dialogue is the next element setting this film apart from similar stories. It’s realistic, funny, no bullshit talk that draws you in and makes you care for characters you haven’t known long.

As the man on the beach, Sam, Donal Logue shows off his talent for drama. Both endearing and frustrating, you want to know where he’s been and to see where he’s going. Playing off Logue with near equal talent, Kate Walsh brings depth to her character, Kate.

The rest of the cast isn’t given same level of attention.  Characters pop up in the beginning that are given some weight, making you think they’ll come up again as a larger part of the story. While they do appear later on, they don’t receive the resolution you might expect. Everyone who plays a role in the film does a fine job, but when compared to the two main characters, they feel hollow.

McCormick is also partly responsible for the film’s score, and it pales in comparison to his writing/directing talent. There’s nothing exactly wrong with the score; it’s just not the right music for the film. Although, there is a particularly lovely song that plays over the end credits that’s worth a listen.

This is only McCormick’s second film (and his first came out 15 years ago), and it’s a bit rough around the edges – a lot like its main character. But that’s part of what gives it its charm.

I’d Vote for Him

My Name is Pedro

by Rachel Willis

Pedro Santana is the bright, innovative, caring teacher/school administrator that every child deserves and some desperately need.

It’s not surprising that in her first documentary feature, director Lillian LaSalle chose such a larger-than-life personality to concentrate on.

Most of LaSalle’s doc focuses on one-on-one time with Santana, but there are plenty of interviews with those who have been touched by him: students, parents, and co-workers. All have glowing praise for Santana’s inventiveness and compassion.

The film’s extraordinary subject helps hide the more mediocre elements. Apart from from Santana himself, there isn’t much that stands out. Some of the shots are distractingly blurry, and harried animation sequences detract from the spoken words. With someone as animated as Santana, why would you ever take the camera off him in favor of line-drawn cartoons?

But the audience gets to see inside struggling school systems – sadly, something already too familiar to many parents and students – and how someone like Pedro Santana can make a world of difference in a short time. The children who have been impacted by Mr. Santana over the course of his career brim with self-confidence in their interviews.

We’re also shown the dynamics of school politics at one suburban school district in upstate New York. A school board at odds with members of the community makes for heated scenes in which parents confront the board over decisions made for their children. The bulk of the board is comprised of men whose own children don’t attend the local public schools, yet in whose hands rests hiring decisions and money matters for those schools.  

These scenes make for some of the most interesting, and infuriating, moments.

But at its heart, this is a movie about the impact caring educators have on children. Santana recalls his own experience with such a teacher and how she drove him forward in life. From a stint in the Peace Corps to the Teacher’s College at Columbia University and beyond, we see how a good teacher does make a difference.

Santana’s approach to education is a good lesson for anyone who works with children. He pushes them to be their best, and the results speak to his skills in the field of education. And that’s probably because Mr. Santana is interested in more than test scores and homework. He is fundamentally invested in seeing children succeed – at school and in life.

Far From Wonderland

Alice Fades Away

by Rachel Willis

Watching Alice Fades Away is akin to stepping into a Flannery O’Connor short story (without the overt religiosity). The film crackles with ominous energy as a larger-than-life villain haunts the rural, isolated landscape. As a horror/thriller blend, this one hits the mark.

In his first feature, writer/director Ryan Bliss crafts a film that seamlessly blends genres: horror, drama, mystery. Set in the early 1950’s, the film is reminiscent not only of O’Connor, but films such as The Night of the Hunter. The tradition of the Southern gothic lends itself well to Bliss’s vision.

Seeking refuge on her uncle Bishop’s farm, Alice (Ashley Shelton) is on the run. She is accepted by a group of people suffering from their own terrible pasts, all taken under the wing of her generous uncle. We’re not quite sure of Alice’s story, but we’re given disturbing glimpses as past and present merge on screen.

As Alice’s past catches up with her, we’re held hostage to the increasing dread the situation conjures. The cinematography works wonders at turning the idyllic setting of Bishop’s farm into one of dreadful isolation. Its setup as the ideal hideaway melts beautifully into a desolate trap.

All of the actors in the movie are well cast, but the one to watch is Timothy Sekk as Holden. His performance, along with Bliss’s writing, adds depth to a character that could have easily been a lifeless stereotype. Sekk’s energy adds to the mounting horror of what has followed Alice.

With so many great scenes, the film’s blunders are even more obvious. It performs best when it has minimal dialogue, some lines are melodramatic while others are poorly delivered. Many themes are broached, but only a few are explored. A character disappears, leaving us scratching our heads. And what’s with the rabbits?

However, the few moments that don’t land can’t wholly detract from the film’s overall effect. Bliss knows how to invoke dread, and the moments that take us out of the film are easily ignored considering what works. You’ll care less about some of the details and more about what’s ahead.

Same goes for the filmmaker, as Alice Fades Away is a debut that will make you curious to see what Bliss does next.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBZJCLqUO6c

Table for Three

First Blush

by Rachel Willis

When Nena (Rachel Alig) meets Olivia (Kate Beecroft), there’s an instant spark. So even though Nena is married to Drew (Ryan Caraway), that doesn’t stop her from pursuing Olivia. In writer/director Victor Neumark’s first film, First Blush, an unconventional relationship forms as a duo becomes a trio in an exploration of a polyamorous relationship.

The best part of First Blush is that the characters seem like normal people. Save Olivia’s background as a Parisian model, the rest of the people we meet feel a lot like people we know. There were several moments that nailed the transition from single (or dating) twenty-somethings into married thirty-somethings – anxious Nena particularly reminded me of quite a few people (myself included).

Overall, these are characters who struggle with happiness, with what it means to be grown up, and with how to be brave. Nena’s resolve to say ‘yes’ more often is what leads her to pursue Olivia. While at first Drew seems simply along for the ride, Neumark makes sure to insert him (no pun intended) into the relationship as more than a bystander but an equal part.

The predictable ménage à trois montage, when it comes, is light on the sex, and more interested in illustrating the fun the three have as they fall into a relationship. The movie never stoops to voyeurism, instead it plays out as one would expect of any romantic dramedy – not to say it entirely follows a pattern, but by following a semi-predictable model, the film means to normalize the polyamorous lifestyle as a valid choice.

But the third act flounders. Following the film’s unnecessary time jump, Neumark isn’t as skillful at navigating the complications that arise within the trio. Unlike the naturalistic first and second acts, the third relies on things we’ve been told rather than shown. It would have been more interesting to see the interim time between the second and third acts, to give us a chance to watch as the tensions arise between the characters.

However, the movie never fails to engage emotionally. We’re invested in this relationship, we want to know how it will work, where it will go. While it might not be a relationship style most of us will experience, that doesn’t mean we can’t understand the appeal. You want the characters to be happy, in whatever relationship style that works best for them.

Breaking the Pattern

Breaking Fast

by Rachel Willis

Most rom-coms, or rom-dramedies, follow a very specific pattern. You already know when each plot point will happen: the meet, the first date, the montage of falling in love, etc.

Writer/director Mike Mosallam’s first feature, Breaking Fast, follows this predictable model to the letter.

So, what makes Breaking Fast different? Mainly, the characters.

Mo (Haaz Sleiman) is a gay Muslim living in West Hollywood. His best friend, Sam (Amin El Gamal) is eager to see Mo get back into a relationship after his last ended when Mo’s closeted boyfriend broke up with him to marry a woman.

As the holy month of Ramadan begins, Mo meets Kal (Michael Cassidy). From here, you know the plot, but Mosallam weaves into the narrative elements with which you might not be familiar. Mo is adamant that his faith is not incompatible with his sexuality. And as he gets to know Kal, the two grow close as Kal breaks fast with Mo nearly every night during Ramadan.

Most of the gay men we meet in the film, including Sam, have turned their backs on any form of religion due to the harassment they have experienced in the name of faith. But Mo’s experience has been one of love and acceptance, and his devotion to his faith is a large part of the film.

Awkward dialogue makes for some tedious moments. Part of the problem is that Mosallam wants to paint us a new picture of Islam, one that is full of love and acceptance. Unfortunately, that lands on the screen feeling more like a lesson than an integrated narrative layer.

This isn’t the first movie to try to educate its audience, but the clumsiness of the execution weakens the film.

There are also some uncomfortable moments between Kal and Mo, and not the kind of uncomfortable that comes across as cute. These scenes are not awkward enough to leave you rooting for a couple, but embarrassing to the point of being hard to watch.

But then, there are the sweet moments between the two, and you do find yourself pulling for them as they weather the difficulties of a new relationship.

Too bad Breaking Fast never finds the right balance between what it is and what it wants to teach you.

Love Notes

Sylvie’s Love

by Rachel Willis

Writer/director Eugene Ashe (Homecoming) helms a charming, if paint-by-numbers, love story in Sylvie’s Love.

Young saxophonist Robert (Nnamdi Asomugha, Crown Heights) is instantly smitten with Sylvie (Tessa Thompson, Annihilation, Little Woods) when he walks into her father’s record store and sees her at the counter. Though Sylvie’s engaged, that doesn’t stop two from forming a connection.

The chemistry between Thompson and Asomugha is undeniable. Particularly in the early stages of the relationship, these two characters radiate attraction. The early sexuality of young love then gives way to a sensuality that blends seamlessly into something more mature as the years pass. Thompson and Asomugha bring an unmistakable authenticity to the relationship, and to the depth of their characters’ feelings for each other.

The first two acts follow a conventional pattern, much of the dialogue you could voice before the characters do. But at times, Ashe surprises with a few well-chosen moments. The third act strays outside the realm of predictability, but not by much. It’s not hard to figure out where the film is going to take you, but whether or not that bothers you depends entirely on how invested you are in Sylvie and Robert’s relationship.

The focus is sometimes too narrow, which one sees very rarely. Far too many films take on more than they can handle. One of my biggest criticisms of the film is too much of a spoiler to reveal, but a particular character feels like an afterthought in much of Sylvie and Robert’s orbit. This is their world, and other people barely inhabit it. This leaves a few irritating loose ends that, while not essential to the film to clear up, are a thorn in its side.

An epic love story must have its characters go through a few ups-and-downs and navigate obstacles to determine if theirs is a love that will last. There is some fun in watching Robert’s career as a saxophone player over the course of the film, and as a jazz musician in the 50’s and 60’s, you can be sure there’s a fantastic soundtrack boasting some of the greatest songs of the era. The same can’t be said for the score, which is often distractingly sappy.

The holidays seem a perfect time to get lost in an epic love story, but Sylvie’s Love isn’t quite compelling enough to join the ranks of the truly great romances.

Woman On the Verge

I’m Your Woman

by Rachel Willis

Jean (Rachel Brosnahan) is desperate for a baby. So, when husband Eddie walks in the front door with a baby strapped to his chest and says it’s theirs, Jean happily accepts the situation.

It helps that director Julia Hart (Fast Color) sets her newest film, I’m Your Woman, in the 1970’s when certain pesky questions surrounding adoption are a little easier to sidestep.  

Whether you believe a man could present a random child to his wife without her raising many suspicions, is a pivotal question that hovers over this film. Most of Jean’s life is spent in the dark. She doesn’t quite know what Eddie does for a living, (“he steals things”), she doesn’t know how to drive (Eddie doesn’t want her to), and she doesn’t know how to crack an egg without breaking the yolk.

So, when Jean’s world is turned upside down, a lot of tension is built mostly on the fact that neither Jean nor the audience really knows what’s going on. It’s best to experience this ride with Jean, too many details will derail the nicely built tension that fills the entire film.

Let’s just draw attention to the fact that Rachel Brosnahan (The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel) is on fire in this movie. The role of Jean is made for her. As the ‘in-over-her-head’ housewife, we can sympathize with her as she struggles to deal with all the challenges of motherhood while also navigating the reality of her husband’s world. You might shake your head over some of her naivety, but Brosnahan handles Jean’s awakening to the world around her with touching sincerity.

Playing against Brosnahan for big chunks of the film are Arinzé Kene as Cal and Marsha Stephanie Blake as Teri. Both characters help push Jean where she needs to go – both literally and metaphorically. And both actors match Brosnahan in their dedication to their roles. This film works as well as it does because these three bring it to life.

Unfortunately, there are times when I’m Your Woman embraces some cheesy clichés, with some character decisions appearing predetermined by the type of film rather than because the situation warrants it. It’s disappointing such an overall strong film doesn’t avoid certain predictable pitfalls.

But with such a stellar cast in a film that bristles with energy, it’s easy to overlook the few flaws.

Secret Santa

Dear Santa

by Rachel Willis

Director Dana Nachman’s feature documentary, Dear Santa, is delightful.

Highlighting the 100-year-old United States Postal Service program, Operation Santa, the film captures the spirit of the season as ‘adopter elves’ make Christmas special for children and families across the United States.

When children post their letters to Santa every year, USPS makes those letters – hundreds of thousands of them – available to the public to ‘adopt.’ This is a chance for individuals, families, schools, and non-profit organizations to read through the letters, select one (or several), and do what they can to fulfill the wishes of the children penning them.

Starting three weeks from Christmas and working forward to the big day, we see how the letters move through the system – starting with the children writing them, to their delivery to the postal service, then on to the adopter elves. Two locations in the US – Chicago and New York – allow the adopters to physically read through the letters, while the rest are available online for those around the country who want to participate.

Nachman (Pick of the Litter) interviews several ‘elves’ in the postal service who work with Santa to read, sort, and deliver the letters received every year. She also follows several adopter elves who help Santa distribute gifts to ‘nice’ children across the country. Then, there are the children themselves, so eager to have their deepest wants and desires met by Santa. One child is particularly keen on receiving a moose for Christmas.

Interspersed throughout is a highlight reel of kids of all ages talking about Santa, who he is, what he does, where he lives, and it’s charming to watch the children explain what makes Santa so special.

This is a family-oriented treat, with the filmmakers and ‘elves’ doing their best to keep the Santa myth alive for any believers. However, older kids who might be starting to question whether the man with the bag is ‘real’, might see through the illusion. Some of those interviewed are more convincing than others when it comes to their work with Santa.

The film is an ode to the United States Postal Service, the hard work they do each year to make Operation Santa a success, as well as to the adopters who make it possible for children to have the merriest of Christmases.

If you’re feeling Grinchy this Christmas, Dear Santa might be just what you need to remember what makes the season so special.

Sit Down

All Joking Aside

by Rachel Willis

All Joking Aside is an appropriate title for director Shannon Kohli’s first feature. Because it seems writer Brian Pickering left out most of the jokes from a film centering around a woman who dreams of becoming a stand-up comic.

Charlene (Raylene Harewood) has her work cut out for her if she wants to be a comedian. Heckled off the stage at her first open-mic night, she then decides to seek out the man who heckled her, a former comedian named Bob (Brian Markinson), to get his advice on how to achieve her dream.

It’s a bit of a stretch, even if there are a few pieces involved to get these two together. Bob is a cynical, down-on-his-luck alcoholic. Charlene is a broke young woman who sleeps on the floor of her apartment. You can see where this story is going; the curmudgeon and the promising young talent’s relationship is telegraphed from the start.

Added into the mix are several clichéd elements: cancer, an estranged mom, a dead father who also dreamed of being a comedian, an estranged wife and child. Pickering piles on the misery, but it doesn’t add much to the overall story. The film would have been better served by closer attention to the jokes peppered throughout. Or on building a more believable, or even a more unexpected, relationship between Bob and Charlene.

There are a couple of funny moments, some of Charlene’s jokes provide a minor chuckle. But much of the dialogue is delivered like a training video: Comedy 101. Or worse, if there was a retail store for comedy, this is the video they’d show you on your first day.

Markinson is the film’s highlight, which is disappointing since this should be Raylene Harewood’s show. But even he seems to be phoning in his lines and resembling a poor man’s Marc Maron. Not a bad actor to emulate, but Markinson lacks Maron’s acerbic charms. And Harewood just can’t muster the pluck to make the audience root for her.

This isn’t entirely the fault of the actors, as the film splits its focus across too many elements. Predictability may help to pull ideas together, but it does nothing to create a satisfying comedy.