Mini Reviews for March 23-29, 2020

Quarantine, Week 3: Let me out.

Movies

Bisbee '17 (2018)
A documentary that asks the descendants of those involved in the Bisbee Deportation to participate in a recreation of that event on its centennial. If I hadn't seen The Act of Killing, I would say this is probably the most innovative use of reenactment in a documentary since Errol Morris's Thin Blue Line, but given the existence of The Act of Killing, it becomes kind of clear that this is the exact intersection between The Act of Killing and Errol Morris, which is fine but also feels a little thinner than it should in comparison to those heavyweights; specifically, I would have liked to see more of the movie dedicated to showing the aftermath of the reenactment itself, since that's where the movie's thesis—that of what it means for a community to confront its collective memory (or collective amnesia, in this case) of an atrocity. But oh boy, is this an atrocity, and there's an inherent power in the documentary wrestling with it at all. I had zero knowledge of the Bisbee Deportation before watching this movie, and apparently a good portion of contemporary Bisbee residents didn't either, which might be one of the starker and more effective points this movie makes about the barriers to even getting a community (much less an entire country) to reckon with its own relatively recent horrors. There's this one part where one of the Bisbee residents rants about how nobody teaches labor history in schools, which is a point that I 100% felt as someone living in a modern Appalachia that has all but erased its considerable history in the labor movement. It is a damning indictment of the way we Americans are taught history that I learned more about the lives of Thomas Edison and Henry Ford—hell, about medieval England—than I did the entire labor movement, a movement that reached its height during a generation that has not yet completely died out, a movement whose outcomes shaped contemporary life as much as either of the World Wars. The movie strains to connect the Bisbee Deportation with the Trump-era immigration crisis, but there's a subtler point being made here, that much as Bisbee itself can't reckon with an injustice it refuses to acknowledge, a nation without a past is doomed to live in the unsustainable fantasies that historical amnesia grants. Grade: B+

Gnomeo & Juliet (2011)
Despite teaching it every semester to my students, I really don't have any special affection for Romeo and Juliet, which I would put easily in the bottom half of Shakespeare's output. So it's not so much that this defiles a sacred masterpiece as it is that this movie just sucks. Points for pissing on the piety toward Shakespeare's genius, further points for playing up how horny the Nurse (who is a thicc frog here, natch) is for Paris; but negative points for all the dumb pop culture references and especially negative points for that American Beauty homage. Also really not sure what to do with the "When She Loved Me"-esque flashback involving the flamingo (who is Friar Laurence... I think?). Near the end of the original Shakespeare version, the Prince declares, "Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished." I don't know if I'm feeling quite so magnanimous. Punish all those involved, I say—especially you, Sir Elton John, Executive Producer. Grade: C-

Sita Sings the Blues (2008)
I really wanted to love this creative re-telling of the Ramayana. There is some really inspired stuff here—the animation is very good (particularly the couple of wordless psychedelic musical sequences, which go hard), and the device of having some Adventures of Prince Achmed-style shadow puppets give a stammering, off-the-cuff narration the story, each narrator remembering the story a little differently and occasionally disagreeing on the subtext, is very clever and yields some very good bits. I would have actually loved if the movie were just that. But then you've got the director's autobiographical sections, which, in addition to my misgivings about the cultural dimensions of this (a Western, white woman revising an important text from an Eastern culture in order to reflect over her own life—ehhh), is far and away the weakest material in the movie. And about Sita singing those blues: having Sita sing Annette Hanshaw songs is pretty fun, but by the end of the movie, it's clearly become a way to pad out the movie's already svelte runtime, and it definitely got thin. But I really do like the animation, so I'm letting that coast this movie into a vaguely positive rating. Grade: B-

Down with Love (2003)
A pitch-perfect pastiche/parody of an early '60s romantic comedy—only with the added benefit of actually being funner, more clever, and more visually engaging than any '60s comedy of this ilk I've ever seen. Clever screenplay, relentlessly clever visuals (the split-screen "sex" scene is maybe the hardest I've laughed in a movie in a year—ditto for the sublime visual gag of Paulson and Zellweger taking off their coats to reveal cocktail dresses matching each other's jackets). I have literally no idea why this isn't as well regarded as, say, The Man Who Wasn't There, to name another Classical Hollywood pastiche from the early 2000s, except that I guess rom-coms aren't as lionized a genre as noir. I would be interested in how this movie would be received if it were released now, in a post-The Artist, post-La La Land world, where people seem to be more willing both to engage with pastiche as art and also with supposedly "dated" Hollywood formats. Grade: A

Speed (1994)
One of the very best American action films of an era that produced an uncanny number of great American action films. Also a really great example of collective urbanism: a whole city coming together to make sure that a bus can go as fast as it can. In fact, once he gets on the bus, I don't think Keanu uses a private vehicle for the rest of the movie, which, by a certain metric, makes this the greatest movie of all time. He cheats a little by having the ambulance take him to the metro stop, but hey, this is America—a land where it is seemingly too much to ask for bus routes to actually connect to metro stops. Grade: A

Tammy and the T-Rex (1994)
Just a li'l old movie about a girl and her animatronic dinosaur boyfriend. You know, one of those. Tammy and the T-Rex probably prefigures the post-MST3K "intentionally so bad it's good" wave of the 2000s wherein a knowingly ridiculous premise is exploited for ironic yucks, e.g. Sharknado—only critically, this movie remembers that without some kind of sui generis innocent vision a la The Room or Plan 9 from Outer Space, "so bad it's good" still needs to be, ya know, good on some level. And oh boy, is this good. The gore effects are both ludicrous and enthusiastic, the plotting is brisk and surprising, and the acting is across-the-board excellent at bringing a professional sheen to a camp tone reminiscent of a goofy community theater troupe, particularly Denise Richards, who maybe gives the performance of her career here. Also, this is by the director of Mac and Me... does this mean I should listen to Paul Rudd and watch Mac and Me after all? Grade: A-

Halloween 4: The Return of Michael Myers (1988)
The most overtly goofy and sloppy of the Michael Myers Halloween movies I've seen so far (we'll just let that third one be its own thing). Scene by scene, this movie's tone slips wildly from something that's just kind of fluffy (the teen relationship drama) to some astoundingly mean character moments (the bullies laughing at Laurie's kid because she's an orphan... I mean, golly) to some almost over-the-top gore (someone gets stabbed... with a shotgun barrel). There's also the completely unremarked-upon scene with the alcoholic doomsday preacher that gives Loomis a ride into town, which is itself a sort of masterclass in wtf-ery as well as one-and-done character work. And also, there's a redneck militia in Hadonfield now? But it's all kind of fun in a way that the other direct sequel I've seen, Halloween II, was not, and the final twenty minutes or so do an admirable job of jettisoning all the goofy stuff to make room for a seriously bleak and lean finale—probably the best sustained Michael action the series has seen since the first movie. It's a largely dysfunctional movie, but I had a good time. Grade: B

Music

Talking Heads - True Stories (1986)
Finds Talking Heads basically in full pop mode, which isn't necessarily a bad thing (I'm a big fan of Little Creatures), but this is a pretty mediocre effort at that sound. "Puzzlin' Evidence" is a good Stop Making Sense-style rocker, and "Wild Wild Life" is probably the best pop Talking Heads on the album. The rest of the record is fine but forgettable, though, and the last three tracks in particular are just snoozers. Thin lyrics, thin sound. Nothing's terrible, but very little is great. Grade: B-

Mini-Reviews for July 24 - 30, 2017

I'm beginning to think that looking for F-rated movies is a self-defeated project. Maybe one only finds an F picture when one isn't trying to find it.

Movies

Dunkirk (2017)
The structural games are fun and Nolan-y and a clever way to tell intimate stories while maintaining a sweeping scope. But ultimately, it's not a movie about the mechanistic approach to time (despite the best attempts of a tedious, obvious Hans Zimmer score that literally ticks like a clock—blerg, just go away, dude). It is, to simplify slightly, a rebuke of the exclusionary self-interest of patriotism, framed through an impressive barrage of kinetic, tense action sequences. To its great credit, Dunkirk nearly avoids Godard's old anti-war-film paradox precisely through how it handles these scenes (and there are plenty—it would not be an exaggeration to call the entire film 100% action), developing them as a series of small parables regarding the role of British identity in a time of crisis. The most British thing, Nolan argues, is selfless sacrifice in the opening of its borders to those in need. In our current political climate, that's practically radical. Grade: B+

War for the Planet of the Apes (2017)
There isn't a lot of hope in War for the Planet of the Apes, which shows humanity trapped between self-extinction and dehumanizing captivity and abuse at the hand of the apes—Woody Harrelson's Colonel, despicable as he may be, is fundamentally correct about humankind's future, which, alone, is one of the smarter and more startling touches to this already smart and startling franchise. And that's just the villains (War is the first of these new PotA movies that presents human kind as basically irredeemable). These apes, we know (provided this series follows the same trajectory as the originals) go on to create a brutally oppressive society on the foundation of Caesar's rebellion. Its grim battle scenes bear this out with as unflinching and bloody a portrayal of combat as the PG-13 rating is likely to allow, and the film's "happy" ending is further unsettled, not just for the actual events depicted but by the score of the film itself, which highlights the final shot with uneasy ambivalence. The feel-bad movie of the summer, for sure, and a vital, terrific success because of it. You'll be hard-pressed to find a movie with more brains and heart this summer's blockbuster landscape. Grade: A-

A Cure for Wellness (2017)
You likely won't see a prettier-looking movie all year, from the uh-MAZE-ing cinematography to the neat way that the set design and costuming blends modern society with a lush, Victorian-Gothic sensibility into a haunting timelessness. But holy Moses, this movie is demented—delightfully so for a large portion of its runtime, but by the end, culminating in a scene of sexual assault that I have severe reservations with, it's decidedly not delightful. But... I kind of love it anyway? It's rare to see a movie, even a horror movie (which Wellness most definitely is) go so all-in with artsy smut, and reservations and all, it's a singular viewing experience I'm not likely to forget soon. Grade: B+

Chef (2014)
Jon Favreau writes, directs, and stars in a gigantically cloying fantasy with wish-fulfillment ranging from the mildly implausible (starting your own restaurant and having complete creative freedom as a chef) to the downright ludicrous (hooking up with both Scarlett Johansson and Sofía Vergara, marrying the latter [twice!]). Good golly, though, the food looks amazing. So amazing that it inspired me to get up from the movie and make my own spaghetti sauce (which turned out great, btw). It's a very silly, inconsequential film, but its love for food is contagious enough that I'm not completely turned off by Favreau's obvious self-indulge. Grade: B-

In the Mood for Love (花樣年華) (2000)
To say that it's Brief Encounter wrapped first in a blanket of aching ennui before being crushed by the insurmountable uncaringness of the universe is technically accurate, but it does nothing to communicate just how gorgeous and moving every second of this film is. There's nothing surprising about one of the most acclaimed movies of the 21st century being amazing, but in case you haven't heard it enough, let me say it again: this movie is incredible. Grade: A

Stop Making Sense (1984)
In the studio, Talking Heads are inscrutable and alien, hermetically sealed within their chilly beats and existential dread. This is perhaps a consequence of their very late-'70s/early-'80s production or maybe an intentional choice of aesthetic, but regardless, it's a vital aspect of the band's sonic identity, and I regard it very much as a feature, not a bug, of the band. Which is why it's such a shock to discover that onstage, Talking Heads became an honest-to-goodness, heart-in-the-gut rock band without compromising a modicum of their essential character. Would you have guessed that the band that gave us "Houses in Motion" could break a sweat? Well, they can; in fact, the band practically spends the entire set drenched in perspiration. It's a fantastic feat of both the band's formidable, go-for-broke musicianship and Jonathan Demme's shadowy, evocative filmmaking that the band becomes as immediate as it does without sacrificing the cock-eyed existentialism that makes their music so compelling. And not to downplay any of the many, many talented individuals that make this film one of rock's greatest visual documents, but the protagonist here is unquestionably David Byrne, who thrashes about the stage like a human in exuberant agony at the realization that he doesn't know what it means to act human. From his herky-jerky dances was born a generation of Thom Yorkes and Annie Clarks; within Demme's frame, the strange geometry of this brilliant man is mesmerizing. Grade: A

Music

Brockhampton - Saturation (2017)
It's hard not to hear an album with a heavy, industrial feel and not jump immediately to the twin standards of heavy, industrial hip-hop, Death Grips and Yeezus, and while that comparison isn't entirely unwarranted (these beats are heavy—just listen to the opening "Heat," which is appropriately hot), the album's more surprising textures come on tracks like "2Pac" and "Swim," which abruptly pivot toward R&B and even soft rock. This brand of abrasive, experimental hip-hop tends to be a bit monochromatic, but Saturation is a cornucopia of sounds that paint the album's themes of self-doubt and coming-of-age with an egalitarian approach to genre. Plus, it's cool to see a hip-hop collective in 2017, as dominated by monolithic figures as the industry is. Grade: B+

Miles Davis - Sorcerer (1967)
On the brink of diving deeply into the jazz-fusion avant-garde, Miles Davis released Sorcerer, in many ways a summation of his '60s quintet work up to that point. There are peppy hard-bop numbers ("The Sorcerer"), smokey modal compositions ("Pee Wee," on which Miles doesn't appear at all), and even a vocal piece closing out the album ("Nothing Like You"). It's almost more of a Herbie Hancock and Wayne Shorter album than a Davis one, as they contribute five of the seven tracks, and as such, it's appropriately sax- and piano-heavy. In 1967, Davis had bigger things on his mind, and he only had one more fully acoustic album left in him before his electric period; one gets the impression that he was a little tired of this mode at this point, given his lack of involvement with the album's composition. So Sorcerer isn't "essential" in any sense of the word. But it's still very good and a fantastic document of jazz's left-of-center in the mid-'60s. Grade: B+