Our reviews of this week’s new releases plus on updated blockbuster calendar!
Tag Archives: Screen Wolf
Elemental, My Dear
Radioactive
by George Wolf
Honestly, I’m not digging this title, yet it somehow fits.
For the story of an intellectual giant, Radioactive seems too easy, too cheesy, and a bit dismissive. Similarly, the film itself becomes a sum of often conflicting parts, flirting with greatness while chasing too many bad pitches.
Rosamund Pike stars as Marie Sklodowska Curie, the Warsaw-born scientist who became the first woman to win the Nobel Prize, the first person to win it again and the only person to win it in two different scientific fields. Her groundbreaking work in France with husband Pierre Curie identified two new elements (polonium and radium) and the theory of radioactivity itself, leading to world-changing advancements in medicine and, of course, warfare.
Director Marjane Satrapi (Persepolis, The Voices) seems intent on honoring Curie’s spirit via the most experimental film treatment she can get away with. Animated graphics attempt to illustrate Curie’s theories on atomic movement, while tones are jarringly shifted with futuristic vignettes that glimpse the more devastating consequences of radioactivity.
Too often, Satrapi is hamstrung by screenwriter Jack Thorne’s overly broad and simplified adaptation of Lauren Redniss’s source book, which is itself a work of original art, photographs, graphics and text. Bringing such hybrid energy to the screen demands a unified vision from writer and director, but Satrapi and Thorne seem at odds whenever they try to expand their scope.
Pike is the unifier here, with an instantly engaging and fully formed portrait of a genius understandably ferocious about defending her work from being usurped or dismissed by male colleagues. Pike humanizes Curie with a mix of defiance and insecurity, frank sexuality and a fierce commitment to husband Pierre (Sam Riley, in a thoughtfully understated and effective turn).
The third act addition of Anya-Taylor Joy as the Curie’s eldest daughter Irene (who would also win a Nobel Prize in Chemistry) only cements the film as being most resonant when it is the most personal.
And it can’t go unnoticed that in these science-denying times, Curie’s story is a needed reminder of the importance of pursuing knowledge, of research and researchers.
Curie was one for ages. Radioactive does suffer from scattered elements, but ultimately turns in watchable, satisfying results.
Skin Trade
Impetigore
by George Wolf
In a remote Indonesian village, a garden of small headstones marks the effectiveness of a Shaman’s curse. Newborn after newborn dies, the one survivor growing to endure a mysterious, painful existence.
Creepy, right?
Shudder’s Impetigore scores some definite points there, which help to offset a narrative often hampered by convenience and confusion.
Maya (Tara Basro) and Dini (Marissa Anita) are best friends trying to make a go of it in the city. With no family to speak of, they scrape by with menial jobs while dreaming of a better future.
Though raised by her aunt, Maya learns of a spacious home left behind by her wealthy parents. Maya could very well lay claim to this valuable property through inheritance, so she and Dini make their way to the remote village, unaware of the curse and their place in it.
Writer/director Joko Anwar (Satan’s Slaves), an Indonesian genre veteran, seems to know he’s got some solid benchmarks here while not worrying too much about the strength of what binds them together.
Dialogue can range from awkward to WTF-worthy, amid a few convenient plot turns and one humdinger of extended curse explanation that strains coherence.
But when Anwar hits his creepy marks, Impetigore can leave one. The atmospheric isolation in the village feels authentic, and once blood begins letting, the tension is well-paced, bolstered with some satisfying visual payoffs.
There will be eyerolls, but if you’re keeping score, also enough frightful eyebrow-raising to make Impetigore a winning dive into twisted family values.
Godspeed Trailer
Screening Room: The Painted Bird, First Cow, Ghosts of War, Father Soldier Son, Lake of Death
Manhood
Father Soldier Son
by George Wolf
If Boyhood showed us how deeply affecting it can be to watch actors age with their character arcs, Father Soldier Son keeps it even more real.
In what amounts to a condensed version of Michael Apted’s Up documentary series, directors Leslye Davis and Catrin Einhorn follow a military family over a nearly ten year period of pain, hope and personal growth.
We first meet 13 year-old Isaac Eisch and his eight year-old brother Joey waiting for their father Brian – a third generation soldier – to come home from Afghanistan in 2011. The boys are staying with their Uncle during Brian’s tour, but are eagerly awaiting Dad’s two-week return to their Wisconsin home.
Three years later, things have changed.
Brian has lost his lower left leg to a battle wound but has gained Maria, an endlessly supportive and understanding girlfriend. As Brian deals with his anger and feelings of inadequacy, his boys are watching. Despite an earlier vow to remain unchanged by war, he has changed, and his sons are changing, too.
On the surface, this is an immersive and highly effective documentary on the commitment and sacrifice of military families. But the inescapable and important thread underneath is the complex bond of masculinity passed between fathers and sons.
Davis and Einhorn, in their feature debut, give us incredibly revealing moments with the Eisch family. From the simple joys and sweet affection to the missed opportunities and immeasurable pain, the film’s view is clear-eyed but without judgement, often speaking to themes of manhood and patriotism with a sobering honesty.
The point is a purpose in life, and how hard it can be not only to find it, but to feel like you’ve found it. We ache with this family and cheer for them, even when their choices might disappoint us.
The Water’s Not Fine
Lake of Death
by George Wolf
If your experience with Norwegian horror has you expecting Lake of Death to bring on the blondes and the folklore – you’re halfway there. The coifs check out, but writer/director Nini Bull Robsahm trades some homeland roots for flashes of decidedly American inspiration.
It’s a bit curious, since Robsahm (Amnesia) is updating the 1942 novel (and 1958 film) De dødes tjern– which is credited with kickstarting Norway’s interest in the horror genre. Clearly, a cabin in the woods can be creepy in any language.
A distracted Lillian (Iben Akerlie) brings a group of friends and one dog to a remote lakeside cabin for one more getaway before the place is sold. Her gang is ready for a good time, but Lillian is still haunted by the memory of her twin brother Bjorn, who disappeared one year earlier after taking a walk in these very same woods!
One of Lillian’s friends hosts a paranormal podcast, which is Robsahm’s device for filling everyone in on the local legend of the lake. You can get lost in its serene beauty, they say, lose touch with reality, and maybe even get the urge to kill.
Mysterious happenings, paranoia and suspicion ensue, but Robsahm sets the brew on a very slow boil, taking a full hour before we get one well developed visual fright. Lillian’s sleepwalking, hallucinations, and frequent nightmares lay down an overly familiar framework that’s peppered with music stabs and repeated name-dropping of horror classics from Evil Dead to Misery.
As an attempt to bridge generational horror, it’s all very commendable but little more than workmanlike. Robsahm has better success with her commitment to the lake’s spellbinding beauty, and with her repeated trust in cinematographer Axel Mustad.
Shooting in wonderfully earthy 35mm, Mustad creates a gorgeous tableau of woods and water, evoking the dreamy atmosphere required to cash the check written by the lake’s urban legend.
There may be little that surprises you in Lake of Death, but a sterling partnership between director and cameraman makes sure you have a fine souvenir from the visit.
We Are Family
Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets
by George Wolf
Similar to the hybrid reality it creates, Bloody Nose, Empty Pockets is an oddly compelling cocktail. It’s like a foul odor you step back from quickly, then find perversely comforting once you’ve had time to soak in it.
And no matter how many of the film’s most effecting moments are manufactured, there’s much authenticity to be found in the smoke-filled haze of the Roaring 20’s lounge.
“This is a place you can go when nobody else don’t want your ass.”
Sitting unceremoniously at the edge of Las Vegas, the “20s” is down to its final day. Directors Bill Ross IV and Turner Ross drop us off before noon, when grizzled regular Michael (Michael Martin) is cleaning up in the bathroom and daytime bartender Mark is hanging up some cheap decorations for the farewell party.
“What kind of party is it if an Australian guy doesn’t take his pants off?”
As drinks are poured, ashtrays are emptied and daytime TV gives way to nighttime jukebox singalongs, we get to know the parade of souls that have come to call this dive bar home.
What The Florida Project was to Disney World, Bloody Nose is to Lost Wages, eschewing tourist playgrounds for the world weariness of an existence in exile, and of outsiders no longer bothering to look in.
“You think I’m better than Fireball? I’m not!”
The Turner brothers shot their exteriors outside Vegas, but couldn’t find a suitable bar for filming until they landed in a New Orleans dive. Their cameras don’t always make it out of the frame, but the film’s mood is so encompassing you hardly care. This is a storytelling experiment left to its own ends, which end up being delightfully and desperately character-driven.
“You know how much I love you?”
As the night bartender (Shay Walker) tries to keep her teen son and his friends from smoking weed and stealing beer, we’re reminded how quickly the outside world will move on, scattering these barflies without mercy.
My friend Jason recently remarked that “bars are the only enduring sacred human places,” and these 98 minutes at the Roaring 20s are full of that sacred humanity. There may have been a few strings pulled at setup, but those tears – both theirs and yours – will feel plenty real.
“I always come to this bar…and feel like family.”
Best Films of the First Half of 2020
by Hope Madden and George Wolf
We can all agree on one thing: 2020 blows. It hasn’t been great for movies, either, what with every major film being pushed back until at least autumn. But, as is always the case, these challenges have created opportunities for spunky little movies ready to come into our homes, where we spend so very, very much time now, and help us make it through The Great Pause.
These are our favorite films of the first half of 2020.
10. Capone
You’ve seen Capone on film: films about him, films containing him, films about gangsters reminiscent of him. A lot of these movies have been great – some of them classic. But you have never seen Alphonse Capone the way writer/director Josh Trank sees him.
Wisely, Trank realized Tom Hardy would be able to translate his vision.
The film focuses on the final year of the infamous mobster’s life—the adult diapers and dementia year. Hardy finds the faulty humanity in this character. His depiction of Capone’s confusion is unerringly human, and in his hands Trank’s macabre humor never feels like mockery.
Trank’s loose narrative is less concerned with the scheming, criss-crossing and backstabbing from underlings trying to find the money than it is with Capone’s deterioration, and that’s what makes this film so gloriously odd. No doubt some viewers will be disappointed—those who tuned in to see Hardy play a badass at the top of his game. My guess is that the reason one of the finest actors working today was drawn to Capone was the opportunity to do something just this unexpected.
9. The Lodge
Several Fiala and Veronika Franz follow up their creepy Goodnight Mommy with this “white death” horror that sees a future stepmom having a tough time getting to know the kids during a weeklong, snowbound cabin retreat. Riley Keough is riding an impressive run of performances and her work here is slippery and wonderful. As the unwanted new member in the family, she’s sympathetic but also brittle.
Jaeden Martell, a kid who has yet to deliver a less than impressive turn, is the human heartbeat at the center of the mystery in the cabin. His tenderness gives the film a quiet, pleading tragedy. Whether he’s comforting his grieving little sister or begging Grace (Keough) to come in from the snow, his performance aches and you ache with him.
There’s no denying the mounting dread the filmmakers create, and the three central performances are uniquely effective. Thanks to the actors’ commitment and the filmmakers’ skill in atmospheric horror, the movie grips you, makes you cold and uncomfortable, and ends with a memorable slap.
8. Why Don’t You Just Die!
Given that 75% of writer/director Kirill Sokolov’s Why Don’t You Just Die! takes place in a single apartment—one room of that apartment, really—you might be surprised to learn that it’s an action film.
It’s pretty heavy on the action, actually, amplified by inspired framing, kinetic cinematography, sometimes hilarious but always eye-popping choreography, and blood. Just a ton of blood.
With a spare script, visual wonder and energy to burn, Why Don’t You Just Die! promises to snatch your attention like a duffle bag of cash and hang on until exactly enough blood is spilled.
That’s a lot.
7. The True History of the Kelly Gang
Planting its flag unapologetically at the corner of accuracy and myth, The True History of the Kelly Gang reintroduces a legendary 1870s folk hero through consistently bold and compelling strokes.
Director Justin Kurzel and screenwriter Shaun Grant – the duo behind the true crime shocker The Snowtown Murders nine years ago – go bigger this time, trading spare intimacy for a tableau of grand visual and narrative ideas.
With a direct nod to the moment when “the myth is more profitable than the man,” Kurzel spins an irresistible yarn that manages to balance the worship of its hero with some condemnation for his sins. And as the road to Kelly’s guns-blazing capture unfurls, the film incorporates elements of both a tense crime thriller and a Nightingale-esqe reminder of savage colonialism.
6. Capital in the 21st Century
New Zealand filmmaker Justin Pemberton has assembled an array of scholars and historians (including Thomas Piketty, author of the source book) for a 103-minute presentation that is so informative, measured and concise it should earn you college credits.
There are graphs, illustrations and pop culture snippets from film and television that Pemberton weaves throughout the lecture material to attract the eye and boost the film’s overall entertainment value. But make no mistake, his mission is about breaking down the 400 years of history that explain the social and economic precipice we’re teetering on right now.
And while some of the lessons are not new (i.e. we need a strong middle class) the context here is so vivid and relevant many observations may land with an echo of “eureka!” inside your head.
5. Never Rarely Sometimes Always
With her 2013 debut It Felt Like Love, Eliza Hittman brought a refreshing honesty to the teen drama. At its core, Never Rarely Sometimes Always could be seen as Hittman’s kindred sequel to her first feature, as two friends (Talia Ryder and a stunning Sidney Flanagan) navigate a cold, sometimes cruel world that lies just beyond the hopeful romanticism of first love.
NRSA shows Hittman in full command of her blunt truth-telling, demanding we accept this reality of women fighting to control their own bodies amid constant waves of marginalization.
Just three films in, Hittman has established herself as a filmmaker of few words, intimate details and searing perspective. NRSW is a sensitive portrayal of female friendship and courage, equal parts understated and confrontational as it speaks truths that remain commonly ignored.
4. The Vast of Night
Opening with vintage Rod Serling welcoming us to “Paradox Theatre,” director Andrew Patterson unveils an incredibly polished debut, one that’s full of meticulous craftsmanship, effective pacing and wonderfully engaging storytelling.
Peterson’s commitment to production and sound design results in a totally immersive experience. The period details – from costumes to recording equipment – are more than just historically correct. Paired with the rapid-fire, comfortably lived-in dialog from screenwriters James Montague and Craig W. Sanger, they create a throwback setting that charms without the tell of undue effort.
Peterson also flexes confidently behind the camera, moving from extended tracks to slow pans to quiet stills, all in service of the film’s wondrous tone. With Sierra McCormick and Jake Horowitz leading a stellar ensemble, what could have been a generic sci-fi time filler becomes a smart parable with an eerie grip.
3. Swallow
Putting a relevant twist on the classic “horrific mother” trope, writer/director Carlo Mirabella-Davis uses the rare eating disorder pica to anchor his exploration of gender dynamics and, in particular, control.
Where Mirabella-Davis’s talent for building tension and framing scenes drive the narrative, it’s Bennett’s performance that elevates this work. Serving as executive producer as well as star, Haley Bennett transforms over the course of the film.
When things finally burst, director and star shake off the traditional storytelling, the Yellow Wallpaper or Awakening or even Safe. The filmmaker’s vision and imagery come full circle with a bold conclusion worthy of Bennett’s performance.
2. Shirley
Director Josephine Decker’s languid style seduces you, keeps you from pulling away from her films’ underlying tensions, darkness, sickness. She specializes in that headspace that mixes the story as it is and the story as it’s told, which makes her a fitting guide for Susan Scarf Merrell’s fictionalized account of this slice of Shirley Jackson’s life.
Decker manipulates the pacing, melancholy and sensuality of her tale beautifully, drawing a stirring performance from Young. But my god, what she gets from Elisabeth Moss and Michael Stuhlbarg.
Moss and Stuhlbarg play Shirley Jackson and her husband, Stanley Hyman. To witness two such remarkable talents sparring like this, aided by a biting script that offers them ample opportunity to wade into the sickness and dysfunction of this marriage—it’s breathtaking.
The result is dark and unseemly, appropriately angry and gorgeously told—fitting tribute to the author.
1. Da 5 Bloods
A heist movie on the surface, Da 5 Bloods is clearly about a great deal more than making it rich. Writer/director Spike Lee has a lot to say about how those in power tell us what we want to hear so we will do what they want us to do.
As is always the case with Lee’s films, even the most overtly political, deeply felt performances give the message meaning. The entire cast is excellent, but Delroy Lindo is transcendent.
Lindo’s never given a bad performance in his 45 years on screen. As commanding a presence as ever at 68 playing Paul, Lindo again blends vulnerability into every action, whether funny, menacing or melancholy. His MAGA hat-wearing, self-loathing, dangerously conflicted character gives Lee’s themes a pulse. This may finally be the performance to get Lindo the Oscar he’s deserved for ages.
It should surprise no one that Lee’s latest happens to hit the exact nerve that throbs so loudly and painfully right now, given that he’s been telling this exact story in minor variations for 30+ years.
Music Man
David Foster: Off the Record
by George Wolf
Imagine being so successful at something that it bores you.
After decades in the music business, millions of records sold, 16 Grammy awards, scores of nominations, and multiple careers launched, improved or saved, that’s where legendary producer David Foster found himself.
His new passion is Broadway, where he hopes to launch a hit musical and maybe even check off the the T in EGOT (with a Tony award). This career shift has seemingly inspired Foster to look back, talking at length to director Barry Avrich for David Foster: Off the Record.
With an introductory promise to Avrich to “be over your shoulder the whole f-ing way,” Foster is very definitely on the record. The ego is healthy but understandable, and some frank self-assessment helps Foster come off as a complex, demanding, uniquely talented charmer who can be a bit of a Richard.
His perfect pitch was revealed during a self-described “perfect childhood” in Victoria, B.C., and by the time he was a young man was out-earning his parents through a variety of music gigs. After a year in London, he landed in L.A., became one-hit wonderful with Skylark (“Wildflower”) in ’72, caught the ear of Streisand in a recording session, and the rocket ride began.
Obviously, the man’s got some great stories. What Avrich has is a great editor in Eugene Weis, and together they set the perfect pace for a film about a guy who admits to only feeling comfortable in the fast lane.
Weis supercuts interview footage to create lively “conversations” between Foster and his colleagues, while Avrich lingers on Foster when he listens hard to one of his creations (such as Celine Dion’s “All By Myself”), drinking it in and relishing the effect.
Even if you don’t love all the tunes (and it’s clear members of Chicago aren’t exactly big fans of Foster’s bombastic 80’s ballads that rescued their career), it’s hard to resist the engaging nature of the storytelling. And they just keep coming, from crashing a party at Streisand’s and fighting over The Bodyguard soundtrack to saving a broadway star’s life by almost killing him and helping launch reality TV.
But while most of the film is gracefully laced with Foster’s honest introspection on his multiple failed marriages and concerns about being a good father, the final act wavers with a more glossy, choreographed concentration on his personal life.
Avrich recovers with a parting nod to Foster’s new focus on Broadway, the unconquered quest in the city he doesn’t enjoy. But hey, at least he’s not bored.
Thanks to what’s on the record in Off The Record, you won’t be, either.
