Tag Archives: Stephen Graham

The Rain in Spain

Heel

by Hope Madden

Few people who watched the Netflix series Adolescence would describe it as darkly comical.

And yet, Adolescence co-creator and co-star Stephen Graham lends his considerable talent to another look at the troubling behavior of young white men in Jan Komasa’s Heel.

Graham plays Chris, a well-intentioned family man. Anson Boon is Tommy. One morning, after a night of hard debauchery, Tommy wakes up in chains in Chris’s basement.

From there, Komasa’s film, written by Bartek Bartosik and Naqqash Khalid, could become something truly horrifying. Instead, it reimagines The Clockwork Orange by way of My Fair Lady.

There’s obviously something terribly wrong with Chris, his wife Kathryn (Andrea Riseborough), and probably their young son Jonathan (Kit Rakusen). But they don’t think so. Indeed, they’re so convinced of their benign purposes that the family hires a part time maid (Monika Frajczyk), even though there’s a human being chained up just off the laundry room.

Of course, during the interview, Chris does ask if Katrina has any distinguishing marks. That could be a red flag.

The performances across the board are marvelous. Certainly, we’ve come to expect nuanced, even surprising turns from both Grahan and Riseborough. But it’s Boon who really impresses. His Eliza Doolittle arc is fantastic and frustratingly believable.

Komasa plays with your expectations and manipulates your emotions. It’s really hard to root for the kid in the cellar, and it’s often a little tough to dislike this broken family, although there is clearly something very cracked and likely dangerous about them.

The sharp script never overplays its themes. Heel keeps you guessing, keeps you fascinated, and sometimes has you almost breathless. It’s also quite funny and touching.

The longer you watch, the more provocative Heel becomes. Even if you’re furious by film’s end, it’s hard to deny its power.

Nowhere Man

Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere

by George Wolf

My sister-in-law Ellen still tells the story of when she bought Bruce Springsteen’s new album Nebraska in 1982. She was a college student, and was ready to rock out in her dorm room with the guy who was coming off the top ten singalong smash “Hungry Heart.”

What she got was a collection of stark, acoustic songs about murder, desperation and dead dogs. Not much to dance to.

Why would a rock star on the verge of global superstardom make such an unexpected move?

Writer/director Scott Cooper explores that question with Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, a heartfelt and emotional story of a man caught between the echoes of his past and the promise of his future.

Jeremy Allan White is sensational as Bruce. The look is right, and White’s playing and singing often get eerily close to the real thing. But even more than that, White captures the tortured soul of a rising phenom seemingly terrified of the success he knew was suddenly within his grasp.

Adapting Warren Zanes’s 2023 book, Cooper revisits some themes from his Oscar-winning Crazy Heart and makes the film a collection of small moments that capture a pivotal snapshot in the life of a living legend.

And none of it pushes too hard. Glimpses of a Flannery O’Connor book, the movies Badlands and Night of the Hunter, and the Suicide song “Frankie Teardrop” quietly tell us much about Bruce’s inspirations for the album. Black and white flashbacks to Bruce’s childhood with a troubled father (Stephen Graham) and a protective mother (Gaby Hoffmann) take a similarly understated approach, effectively layered as the lingering memories they were.

Bruce’s relationship with fictional girlfriend Faye (Odessa Young) begins as an awkward choice amid all this attention to detail, but the device ultimately gives us some insight into his fear of any happiness he felt was undeserved.

Lighter moments do come, almost always with the reactions to Bruce’s new direction. Manager Jon Landau (yet another terrific supporting turn from Jeremy Strong) gently tries to steer him toward the songs that would become Born in the U.S.A., while a record exec (David Krumholtz) throws up his hands in exasperation. And through it all, everyone (including Marc Maron as longtime engineer Chuck Plotkin) keeps wondering where the case is for Bruce’s cassette of homemade demos.

Bruce fans know well that those demos became the album, one now regarded as a seminal statement of untold influence. Those longtime followers will appreciate Cooper’s respectful approach that doesn’t feel the need to explain who people like Jon Landau are and where they fit in.

Because even for people who haven’t listened since 1982, Deliver Me From Nowhere presents a richly satisfying story of inspiration, artistic passion, and finding an inner peace that has long eluded you.

And yes, there’s a bit of “Born to Run” in here, too.