So you’ve got some time off work this week, maybe you want to just hang in, avoid the crowds and the heat, eat some Doritos and watch some flicks. We hear ya! Most all your options are solid this week, whether you’re looking for comedy, drama or horror. Here’s the rundown:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tP5N5XpGlYo
by Rachel Lewis
Director Brett Haley and co-writer Marc Basch have crafted a tender story of a father and daughter who spend a last summer together bridging their differences through a shared love of music.
Nick Offerman is charming as Frank, a man who’s never outgrown his dream of being a musician. Though his days are spent behind the counter of a record store, he wishes for something bigger. It’s his daughter, Sam (Kersey Clemons, from Dope and Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising), who is the family’s realist. Her goal is to go to college and become a doctor. The conundrum is that Sam has talent. A lot of it. Upon discovering how much talent Sam has during a family “jam sesh”, Frank’s dreams are reignited.
Much time is spent on the music itself. We watch as songs are written, revised, practiced, and recorded. These original tunes, written by Keegan DeWitt, are effective at highlighting the film’s themes, and the title song is catchy enough to stay in your head long after the credits roll.
The problem with this amount of attention on the music is that other areas of the film suffer for it. The relationships between characters are thin. We’re told there’s history present, but we never feel it. If the focus was kept on Frank and Sam, rather than expanding their world to include romantic relationships and a grandmother who adds little to the story, the audience connection might have gained more strength. As it is, we’re told to care about characters who have little dialogue and next to no screen time. Though this imbalance exists, the actors do their best with what they have.
There is a sweetness to the film, and Frank’s excitement is so contagious, Sam’s lack of enthusiasm is painful next to it. It’s a touching portrayal of a father and daughter who’ve grown apart, but find a way to reconnect. Terse conversations deepen as musical bridges are hammered out, with memories brought to the surface and shared through poetic lyrics. Moments that reveal pieces of the past are subtle, yet striking.
There’s much to like about Hearts Beat Loud, even if it does rely too much on the music to carry it.
by Rachel Willis
What happens to parents when they’re confronted with the truth about their child? In A Kid Like Jake, the titular Jake is not the kind of five-year-old boy who likes trucks and cars, but rather princesses and fairy tales. His parents, Alex and Greg (Claire Danes and Jim Parsons), see it as a harmless phase. But when it seems possible it’s more than a phase, they’re forced to confront their own fears and prejudices.
Writer Daniel Pearle (adapting from from his play) and director Silas Howard address a topic that deserves attention. With a sensitive touch, they’ve crafted a film that is heartfelt and earnest.
The film’s main shortcomings occur during the first act. It takes the film a while to get to the meat of the issue, spending too much time on inconsequential details, including a montage of private school tours that has no real bearing on the story. Rather than focusing on this minutia, the film would have been better served if some of the ancillary characters were given more to do. Friends and family members are introduced (and played well by the likes of Octavia Spencer, Ann Dowd and Priyanka Chopra), but never satisfactorily weaved into the main drama.
As Jake’s parents, Danes and Parsons work best together when they’re at odds. The dialog during Alex and Greg’s most charged moments is impeccable. Their idyllic scenes, on the other hand, are shallow. The attempt at showing us a loving family is superficial, and it’s hard to root for people we never get a chance to know.
However, there are interesting dilemmas explored in the film. When Jake wants to dress as Rapunzel for Halloween, Alex instead brings home a pirate costume for him. Her rationale is that she wants to avoid weird looks or negative comments. She wants to “protect” her son. But as Jake acts out, it’s clear that her protection is misguided. Rather than defending her son, she’s part of the problem. Greg comes to this realization more quickly, recognizing his son’s change in demeanor as a sign he’s unhappy. It leads to confrontations that are uncomfortable, yet recognizable.
As for Jake, most of what we learn about him comes from exposition. This is likely a result of the transition from stage play to film. In some ways, it works, as Jake knows who he is. But in a world that needs greater representation for gender nonconformity and transgender men and women, it would have been nice to spend time with Jake instead of only seeing him through other people’s eyes.
by Rachel Willis
Reminiscent of both Andrei Tarkovsky and Robert Bresson, writer/director Paul Schrader delivers a nearly flawless meditation on faith and despair with First Reformed.
Schrader’s film centers around Reverend Toller (Ethan Hawke), overseer of the small church, First Reformed. Reverend Toller lives a simple life. He delivers a Sunday sermon to a very small congregation, gives tours of the 250-year-old church, and occasionally ministers to a youth group. It’s a simple, but seemingly pleasant existence.
His life changes drastically when he’s approached by a young, pregnant woman named Mary (Amanda Seyfried). Mary seeks counsel for her despondent husband, Michael, and Toller agrees to meet with him. It’s a decision that will open the door to the question: Will God forgive us?
Much of the film’s success rests on Hawke. In what is possibly his best performance, he perfectly portrays the inner turmoil and anguish that seizes Reverend Toller. It’s a slow slide from a pleasant façade to destructive rage, and Hawke perfectly captures every emotion, every nuance of Toller’s internal crisis and its external manifestations.
The majority of the supporting cast is able to meet Hawke’s intensity with equal verve. Seyfried’s Mary is the dynamic foil to Toller, and she mostly manages to stay on Hawke’s level. At times, however, she seems out of place, unable to convey the depths of Mary’s feelings.
Schrader’s commentary on the state of the world is bleak, and there’s not much hope to be found in First Reformed. However, it can be seen in simple moments Toller spends with Mary. It provides a few moments of balance, and light, as Toller questions the right way forward.
As the tension builds, the understated score plays a phenomenal role in pulling the audience into Toller’s world. As he contemplates his future, there is a sense of dread that stays just beneath the surface, waiting to be released. There are many moments in which the stress is palpable.
Schrader’s film is a masterful character study that asks thoughtful questions about how our choices will be viewed in the eyes of God.
by Rachel Willis
There are a few directions a film can take when focusing on a hotel with the kind of history as the Carlyle Hotel in Manhattan. A historical retrospective of its place in New York would have cemented the hotel as one of the city’s vibrant hearts. A simple history of the hotel itself and its early struggles after opening during the Great Depression and its rise to prominence could have proved an interesting subject if explored.
However, director Matthew Miele focuses his documentary, Always at the Carlyle, on the shallowest of subjects—the hotel’s many famous guests.
A good chunk of the film feels like a promotional advertisement. Interviews with hotel staff highlight the hotel’s charms without diving too deeply into those charms. One of the staff was given the opportunity to stay in the room that Princess Diana frequented on her visits to New York. When asked by Miele if the room’s $10,000 per night fee is worth it, she says yes. It’s hard to imagine her saying anything else.
The rest of the film is interviews with its rich and famous guests. From George Clooney to Angelica Huston to Lenny Kravitz to Sofia Coppola, we’re told repeatedly why they find the Carlyle so inviting. They hint at scandals and extravagant parties, but no one ever divulges anything truly interesting.
There’s a lack of cohesion to the story Miele is trying to tell, so it’s not entirely clear what he hopes to accomplish. Part of the documentary focuses on the upcoming arrival of William and Kate, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. From the initial call booking the room to the couple’s arrival, it could have been a lynchpin for the movie, but their story is abandoned half-way through the film. Instead, it’s simply another entry into the Carlyle’s roster of celebrity guests.
Miele’s film is, in some ways, representative of the worst of our celebrity-obsessed culture. It equates wealth with class, fame with sophistication, and the past as a time when things were “better.” It’s the same kind of culture that led to the death of the hotel’s frequent visitor, Princess Diana.
While The Carlyle may have an interesting story to tell, this documentary doesn’t do it.
by Rachel Willis
To give away too much of the plot of Lu Over the Wall would be to steal the joy of experiencing this unique, quirky film. Director Masaaki Yuasa has crafted a sweet fantasy that explores the moving friendship between a boy and a mermaid.
The first half of the film offers an unpredictable journey that follows Kai as he gets to know the buoyant Lu. Along for the ride are Kai’s friends, Yuho and Kunio.
Before Lu, Kai is sullen and morose, having recently moved from Tokyo to a small fishing village with his dad following his parents’ divorce. Yuho and Kunio try their best to engage Kai, even talking him into joining their band. But it isn’t until Lu appears, drawn by Kai’s music, that he begins to open up to the world around him.
Though the first half of the film is unusual, and, at times, downright weird, the second half falls into a more predictable pattern. However, the shift into a more traditional story doesn’t detract from the film. And though the second section is more certain, the quirks and oddities of the story are maintained through the animation. Lu and Kai, along with Yuho and Kunio, face challenges as old prejudices and new curiosities are aroused by the arrival of Lu.
At times, the animation is reminiscent of Hayao Miyazaki’s work, but it also occasionally has the slapstick style of Tex Avery’s old Bugs Bunny cartoons. The blending of styles, along with the film’s own specific elements, merge together to serve the unconventional story well. From the monstrous creatures to the everyday people to the village’s shops and streets, the visuals are the most memorable part of the film.
Music also plays an important role, but the soundtrack is a little stale when paired with the rich animation. Too often, the score and soundtrack fade forgettably into the background when the movie would be better served by sound that enhanced the animation onscreen.
Though often strange and unusual, Lu Over the Wall is a touching tale.
by Rachel Willis
Like a fly on the wall, Raymond Depardon takes his audience inside a world most will never see, and many may never want to see again.
In France, anyone committed to a psychiatric hospital without consent must be seen by a judge within 12 days. At that time, the judge will decide whether to continue their treatment or release them from care. Each patient’s doctor, or group of doctors, provides recommendations to the judge. In every case Depardon is privy to, the doctors never recommend release for their patients.
Only one woman is okay with this decision. She admits she needs additional care and seems happy with the judge’s decision to continue her treatment for another six months. For the rest, they desire their freedom.
Many of the patients are lucid. They argue their cases before the judge, promising to seek treatment from their own doctors, find jobs, and do what they can to lead healthy lives. When they’re remitted back into the care of the hospital, they promise to appeal the decision (they have ten days to appeal any decision made by the judge).
For others, it is clear their mental health is poor. One man is unable to answer questions from the judge; it’s as if he is having a separate conversation, one that only makes sense to him. Another man begs the judge to find his father and have his father come visit him. Only after he leaves the room does the judge comment on why his father will never visit.
It’s an interesting conundrum for the judges, who must rely on the recommendations of the doctors to make their decisions. Do they struggle with their decision when patients have clear goals for their lives outside of the hospital?
Depardon doesn’t give us any answers. He remains an unbiased observer never offering a narrative to sway the viewer. We’re never given any information outside of what we see inside the small, claustrophobic courtroom. This may irritate some viewers who may wish to know more about each of the individuals seen before the judges or the circumstances surrounding their care. For those open to simply taking what Depardon gives, the film is likely to raise many important questions about the nature of mental health care.
by Rachel Willis
Patience.
It’s the first word that comes to mind while watching Thomas Riedelsheimer’s documentary about artist Andy Goldsworthy. But that’s not a critique on the film itself, rather a reflection on the meticulous nature of Goldsworthy’s work, as well as Riedelsheimer’s.
Crafting art from nature, Goldsworthy spends a lengthy amount of time gathering his materials—leaves, flower petals, branches—then fastidiously arranges and assembles his materials into stunning works of art. It’s not only an exercise in creativity, but patience. When a gust of wind destroys hours of work, Goldsworthy takes it in stride, even though it’s the kind of setback that would leave many fuming.
To truly sink viewers into Goldsworthy’s world, into his thought process, Riedelsheimer is with Goldsworthy from start to finish as he assembles each new piece. Interviews and time spent on the sidelines observing while he works is as close as one can get to being inside the mind of an artist.
With breathtaking cinematography, the film itself is a work of art. As the viewer follows Goldsworthy around the world, the film captures the beauty of nature as Goldsworthy sees it. Knotted tree roots take on deeper meaning. Ants marching become more than insects on the ground, but a reflection of society. One of Goldsworthy’s more impressive installations is sparked by the ants. Riedelsheimer is there to capture the moment of inspiration as it turns into a stunning work of art.
There are times when the film covers the same ground. Much of the viewer’s time is spent watching as Goldsworthy (sometimes alone, sometimes with his daughter, at times with an entire crew) works on different installations. While interesting to see, it’s also repetitive, and the documentary is most engrossing when we’re allowed to follow Goldsworthy as he mines the continent for ideas.
Often the film has the feel of a nature documentary. The camera fades into the background as Goldsworthy works, becoming a silent observer, which gives the viewer an intimate look into his world. Goldsworthy becomes a part of the environment around him. Using his body, he becomes absorbed in the environment. The viewer feels the same absorption as we’re drawn deeply into his universe.
Leaning Into the Wind is a gorgeous, glorious film.
Some super kick-ass women available to entertain you with tales of adolescence, murder, God and mayhem this week. Nicely done, ladies.
There’s also a man who invented Christmas, but honestly, only a man would claim to have invented Christmas. Sheesh.
Click film title for the full review.
by Rachel Willis
It seems strange that in 2018, romantic comedies continue to follow the same tired clichés. While some have mined new territory, The Female Brain isn’t taking any risks.
Focusing on four couples, the film explores the ups and downs of relationships through the studies of neurologist Julia (Whitney Cummings, who also co-writes and directs). Looking at how brain chemistry affects the way men and women behave, why they make certain romantic choices, and why they continue to make the same mistakes, Julia seeks to find answers to her own relationship traumas.
The film’s biggest issue is its lack of cohesion. The couples never share screen time, save one moment in which Steven (Deon Cole) and Adam (James Marsden) discuss how their significant others have changed or are trying to change them. And while it seems the couples are part of Julia’s study based on a few voice-overs, that fact is never quite clear. The movie would have been much stronger if it had kept a tighter focus on Julia’s story or found a better way to connect the couples and their foibles to her study.
There is some humor to be found, primarily from Cole and Cecily Strong. SNL veteran Strong shines, and plays well off of NBA veteran Blake Griffin, who does occasionally hold his own against his much funnier on-screen spouse. Unfortunately, most of the comedy falls flat, as the script relies too much on overused stereotypes: Women are either trying to change men or are too emotionally closed off to accept love.
Cummings is a capable actress. As Julia, she is sympathetic while managing to mine the humor from her role. However, as a director, she never manages to find her footing. The film’s pacing is off, resulting in a movie that feels much longer than its actual runtime. Cummings’s script (co-written with Louann Brizendine and Neal Brennan) suffers from banal dialogue. Any potential moments of originality are undermined by reliance on formulaic ideas of romance.
Hiding behind the guise of being scientifically sound in examining the difference between male and female brains, we’re sadly left with a film that reiterates the same stereotypes and problems of many romantic comedies.
