Movie Review: Green Book

In the movie “Green Card,” Gerald Depardieu plays a French composer who, when invited to tickle the ivories, proceeds to assault them for a prolonged period before a group of horrified genteel folks. After finishing to silence, he deadpans, “It’s not Mozart.”

“No,” stammers one of the visibly shaken audience members. “It’s not.”

Mahershala Ali’s piano music in “Green Book” isn’t Mozart either, but it’s enough to awe and delight his audiences from the North to the South, and probably enough to get your own toes tapping (especially at the end for one Very Special Performance). In this Oscar frontrunner, he plays real-life concert pianist Dr. Don Shirley, who hires Viggo Mortenson (sporting a paunch and an ever-present cigarette), a Bronx bouncer who’s recently lost his job, as a chauffeur and bodyguard to accompany him on his upcoming tour in the Deep South. The title refers to the guide that African-Americans used back in the days of segregation to identify hotels and restaurants where they would be welcome, and Mahershala’s manager warns Viggo that sometimes he and his employer will stay in different hotels on the road. This will turn out to be one of the least of their problems once they get going. Viggo isn’t too thrilled to leave his wife (Linda Cardellini) and extended family for two months, but he needs the gig, so he promises to write letters to Linda and departs. (We’ve see him dispose of a couple of glasses that “colored” workmen have drank out of in his kitchen, much to the quiet dismay of Linda, so we know he’s about to learn valuable lessons in life.)

Soon after they hit the road, Mahershala issues a list of orders for Viggo, which include a bottle of Cutty Sark in the hotel room every night and only performing on a Steinway. He also wants Viggo to improve his diction and refrain from cussing, at least in front of those people he wishes to impress. At first, he’s put off by Viggo’s crudity and lack of ethics, but after awhile, the two men start to grow on each other with Viggo introducing Mahershala to the joys of takeout fried chicken and Little Richard on the radio. “I’m more black than you,” Viggo protests at one point after feeling unfairly called out for racism. (Naturally, this turns into a very important discussion.) In return, Mahershala helps Viggo write his letters to Linda which thrill her tears and make one of her in-laws declare, “I want a letter, too.” Her husband’s response? “After you make me a meal.” (Oh, those wacky misogynist Italians!) As their tour continues, the two men also deal with police brutality and racial discrimination. It will come as no great surprise that after attending Mahershala’s School for Benighted Whites Who Want to Learn to Write Letters Good and to Fight Prejudice Good Too, Viggo graduates with honors.

In these troubled times, it’s nice to sit back in the theater and watch Hollywood’s take on race relations which seem to be that individuals of all colors can bond as long as they have a bucket of takeout, the right soundtrack, and perhaps a beer and some weed to boot to smooth the way. “Green Book,” is based on a true story, however, so audiences  can also have the satisfaction of knowing things really did happen this way. At least sort of.

 

 

Movie Review: The Upside

When “The Upside” first came out (not too long ago), it got its very own controversy because some felt Bryan Cranston (who is not disabled) should not have gotten the lead role of a paraplegic businessman widower who gets a new lease on life, thanks to his ex-con caregiver (Kevin Hart). I am just glad that these critics weren’t around back in the day when my first grade class performed “Annie,” as the lead was snared by a non-redheaded girl, and the lad who played Daddy Warbucks did not actually suffer from male pattern baldness being all of seven (he overcame this obstacle by wearing a bathing cap). In “The Upside,” based on a French film which I have not seen, both men overcome typical Hollywood movie obstacles to form a lasting friendship; there are no major surprises in how this plays out, but it is an enjoyable way to spend a few hours.

The movie begins with a flash forward when Kevin wriggles his way out of trouble by enlisting Bryan, and then we go back six months earlier to when Bryan’s assistant (Nicole Kidman hiding behind a pair of spectacles to show she is a Serious Unsentimental Type) is interviewing the expected parade of comical applicants for the caretaking job. Kevin, who shows up primarily to get a signature on his parole board form that proves he is trying to get work, barges in, and before you can say, “I know what comes next,” gets hired.

Swayed by the lucrative wages as he is eons behind on child support and needs a place to live, Kevin is at first daunted by such tasks as catheter insertion, but soon becomes a pro at this caretaking “gig,” introducing Bryan to late night city rambles which end with weed and hot dogs. Atticus Finch in “To Kill a Mockingbird,” tells his kids that you never really know a person until you have walked in his shoes, but the movie makers know it’s really not until you’ve both gotten high and engaged in wacky high jinks. In return, Bryan turns Kevin onto the joys of opera and painting pictures, the last of which turns out to be unexpectedly profitable. Eventually, there’s the Required Rift, but it’s all overcome when both go hang-gliding, which should get an Oscar nod for Most Obvious Metaphor.

I was planning on seeing “The Green Book,” soon before it leaves theaters, but now I feel I’ve kind of already seen it or at least a mirror version.  I still might, however, and there’s even an African American version of “Freaky Friday,” due out this year.  I hope, though, Hollywood attempts more ambitious types of movies, regardless of the color of the cast.

A Look Back: The Devil Wears Prada

When it comes to portraying the working environment of the average desk jockey, Hollywood has imagined some dilemmas that certainly most of us can identify with. Not only that, but it has executed them expertly making the viewer feel as if he or she is seeing their own life unfold on the big screen.

 
Just kidding! With the exception of the indie “Office Space,” the films set in the white collar world mostly star movie stars who don’t bother to de-glamorize themselves and so the problems they have are certainly absorbing but remain in the realm of fantasy. Also, if there is particularly heinous boss (complete with mustache to twirl if they identify as man), the minion tends to have some options if the abuse gets too bad – such as, say kidnapping the boss – that don’t exist in real life. The put-upon ladies in “9 to 5″ solved the problem of not getting any respect by doing this, and so did Frank Whaley in “Swimming With Sharks.” (Hint: Never inform your assistant that your bathmat means more to you than he does.) Either that, or there are whistleblower movies like “Erin Brockovich” in which Julia Roberts discovers that dressing and looking like Julia Roberts may be a hindrance in bonding with her frumpy co-workers but manages to triumph and get everyone to respect her brain in the end. But to be fair, that was based on a “true story.” (Men, however, can be frumpy whistleblowers, see “The Informant!” and “The Insider.“)

 
“The Devil Wears Prada,” based on the book by Lauren Weisberger about her former boss, Anna Wintour of Vogue, is also supposed to be nonfiction. However, it’s set in the fashion magazine world, so it only makes sense that the employees are almost all glamorous, and it’s not inappropriate for everyone to be obsessed with appearance. The one non-obsessee, at least in the beginning, is Anne Hathaway (Lauren’s stand-in), who graduates with a journalism degree and takes a job as assistant to the editor of Runway Magazine – Meryl Streep, in a place that turns out, to quote novelist Gail Godwin, to be a “hotbed of bitchery and intrigue.” Meryl’s senior assistant is Emily Blunt, who is currently on a starvation diet in preparation for her trip to Paris with Meryl – subsisting on a cube of cheese whenever she feels about to pass out. Emily is not exactly thrilled with Anne who appears not to take her job seriously enough. Moreover, Anne is a size six, prompting Meryl to remark that she went out on a limb deciding to risk hiring the “smart, fat girl.”

 
However, with help from Stanley Tucci, a fashion designer, Anne learns to stop expecting to feel appreciated and gets used to being dog walker, homework fetcher, coffee bringer, and coatrack, among other things for the imperious Meryl who does, to be fair, know a heck of lot more about fashion than anyone else in the room. She even manages to track down J.K. Rowling’s unpublished Harry Potter manuscript so Meryl’s twins can find out what happens next. Unfortunately, Anne gets so into her job that she begins to neglect her boyfriend (Adrian Grenier) and becomes in danger of losing perspective on What Really Matters In Life. It all culminates in Anne getting to fly to Paris instead of Emily, which is the wakeup call Anne needs to toss her cell theatrically in a fountain and quit.

 

Unlike say, the real world, quitting dramatically only earns Meryl’s respect, and we leave the theater confident that Anne will not need to apply for unemployment benefits anytime soon.  “The Devil Wears Prada,” was the first of several white collar boss from hell movies, and along with the television show “Ugly Betty,” made “Suddenly I See” an anthem for put-upon college grads everywhere. Even frumpy ones.

Movie Review: Mary Poppins Returns

From the start, “Mary Poppins Returns” scraps two expected premises of the books upon which it’s (supposedly) based. Readers of the original and its series know that the titular umbrella-toting nanny does return several times because – alas – her charges, young Jane and Michael Banks, don’t retain the life lessons she’s imparted the first time and their behavior regresses unsupervised by their activist mum and bank-employee dad. Instead the sequel focuses on the kids of the now-adult latter (Ben Wishaw). Those expecting hellions in Mary Janes will be surprised to be introduced to a trio of remarkably competent and cheerful young ones, especially since lack of funds means “herring for breakfast; marmalade for lunch.” Yum.

Those expecting genuine discord between Ben and the kids (Pixie Davis, Nathaniel Saleh and Joel Dawson) due to losing their mother (a.k.a. “The Sound of Music“) recently will also be taken aback, since given his circumstances, Ben is a loving but beleaguered dad. They also have their aunt Jane (Emily Mortimer) who makes time from her own activist work to help Ben. The real issue is that their home is about to be taken by the bank where Ben works, due to his evil boss (Colin Firth) and his two minions who are adorned in the Pinstripes of Nefariousness whenever we see them. So why exactly do they need Mary Poppins (Emily Blunt) to lend a hand?

This question really doesn’t get answered since the children do the lion’s share of the work in assisting Ben with relatively few pointers from Emily, but I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end. After some depressing exposition by Ben, Emily arrives one gusty day holding a kite, eagerly reeled in by Joel and Lin-Manuel Miranda, who plays a lamplighter in lieu of the Bert (Dick Van Dyke in the original) character. Although Lin could have kept a tighter grip on his Cockney accent, he is a charming narrator, belting out his numbers with gusto, though this time his love interest is the adorably flustered Mortimer. Emily, too, is a delight as the updated Mary who, at one points, kicks up her heels in a can-can outfit after she, Lin and the kids manage to vanish into the scenery of a Royal Daulton bowl. We get to see Meryl Streep in a cameo as Emily’s eccentric cousin whose world turns topsy turvy on a certain day; she, too, belts out a number. But eventually, the children take a break from their adventures to spy on Colin and discover that he’s up to no good, although of course, the adults don’t believe them and scold them for risking Ben’s job. You know how this is going to unfold.

 
Yes, surprisingly enough, the Banks family finds the crucial document in the nick of time so that they can keep their beloved home on Cherry Tree Lane. (Whew!) Dick Van Dyke makes a cameo to help save the day, and Colin gets what is coming to him. It all culminates with another cameo by Angela Lansbury, as the family attends a town fair with the cherry trees in full bloom. And once Jane has found a suitor (which sort of goes against the narrative that she’s a Strong, Independent Woman but whatever) and Ben has reclaimed his sense of childlike wonder, Emily’s work is done, and she vanishes up into the clouds.

Though the cast throws themselves into the movie, unfortunately, they are given some rather lackluster songs to perform. One problem is that, compared to the originals, they go on far too long. “Let’s trip the light fantastic,” might have sounded on paper as if it would trip off the tongue as easily as, “A spoonful of sugar,” but it doesn’t really. Some of the numbers do work, however, and the end scene is so adorable you want to pinch its cheeks. But you might want to take your kids out to fly a kite and wait for the DVD.

A Look Back: The Full Monty

Usually, especially nowadays, movie titles are unambiguous to a fault. If it’s a movie about X, then the title will in all likelihood include X, even if the title has been used the year before (see “Escape Room“). While this no longer has the risk of confusing video store visitors who wind up bringing home the wrong cassette, much to their housemate’s annoyance, it still can cause bafflement when looking up the title to rent or buy online. But if it uses a phrase that most people are unfamiliar with, it has the advantage of getting people’s attention. (Or, of course, they could just shrug and dismiss it.) If the title uses intriguing sounding slang, like, say “The Full Monty,” and it turns out – once deciphered – to be risque, that can be an advantage.

Or the film, an indie set in a depressing setting (Sheffield, England) in an un-glamorous era (1972) can catch on by word of mouth. Or people might just go for the very basic reason that they want to see if the characters indeed go the full monty, i.e. bare it all for the camera.

“The Full Monty,” stars Robert Carlyle who plays the de facto leader of a group of men who, when the movie begins, have been laid off and are “on the dole” in Great Britain. Robert is currently in hot water with his ex-wife over not paying child support on his preteen son, and so needs to acquire some cash in order to see the boy. As he lacks (unlike Robin Williams in “Mrs. Doubtfire“) a friend who is gifted at disguises, he is forced to try and find a non-nanny job. Eventually, he sees a poster for the Chippendales and decides to cobble together a group of mates to perform their own rendition – for a fee – before a women-only audience. Since none of them, except their ex-boss (Tom Wilkinson) knows anything about the mechanics of dancing, this might appear to be an even worse idea than dressing up as a female nanny, however, Robert and his best mate (Mark Addy) manage to recruit several others, including William Snape, Steve Hulson and Paul Barber, the latter of whom is called “Horse,” which gives you the basic idea of what he brings to the dance floor.

As these things tend to go in movies, the group starts out comically inept, then begins to overcome various obstacles to improve, but then there are setbacks to inject some realism. These have to do with Tom being ejected from his home for debt by his wife, who has a collection of garden gnomes (Oh, those quaint Brits!), which in a surprising twist, it turns out she loathes. Also, Mark (re) becomes self-conscious about his weight and temporarily quits. Then Robert, of all people, has an attack of nerves right before the Big Show, but they do manage to go out and perform – in front of blokes (guys), too. And it pays to believe in miracles because they succeed.

I don’t know if the director was perhaps unconsciously inspired by the Saturday Night Live sketch in which Chris Farley and Patrick Swayze play Chippendale auditioners, but the movie was generally well-received by both awards shows and audiences.  Frankly, I think there must be less extreme ways to arrange to see one’s offspring while separated, but perhaps not as satisfying for moviegoers to watch.

 

 

 

Movie Review: Escape Room

“Escape Room” is one of those movies that has a “twist within a twist,” at the end, but I still would recommend skipping the first five or so minutes unless you want one of the clues to be revealed right off the bat. Perhaps that was the director’s intention, but why make it so easy from the start? Sure, if like the six protagonists, you find yourself trapped in a game where you’re at high risk of dying, you may prefer to decipher clues quickly, but if you’re comfortably seated in a darkened theater munching on concession stand offerings, perhaps not.

A character in the college comedy “Everybody Wants Some!” brings a VCR with a complete library of taped “Twilight Zone” episodes (the classics, not the remakes), and watching “Escape Room,” I couldn’t help thinking he might be a good character to have on your side while playing the for-very-high-stakes contest in this movie since it’s essentially a feature-long TZ episode sans deadpan narrator. When it starts, six people with supposedly nothing in common receive a mysterious, hard-to-open black box from someone they know shortly before Thanksgiving break. They include a hotshot executive (Jay Ellis), a going-nowhere Judd Nelson in “The Breakfast Club” lookalike (Logan Miller), and a shy physics student (Jessica Sutton) who is instructed to “try one new thing” by her professor over break. When they break the code, they’re offered a chance to participate in a virtual reality game (or so they assume) with the last one standing receiving ten thousand dollars.

Arriving in the waiting room of the contest building, they meet a war veteran (Deborah Ann Woll), an overly enthusiastic games nerd (Nik Dodani) and a blue collar guy (Tyler Labine). Once assembled, the mysterious host wastes little time in plunging them into what Nik assures them are simulated rooms, each requiring a code to unlock the door of and proceed. However, once the first death occurs, and little orange men appear to sing an instructive ditty, the competitors realize they may not make it out alive.

The movie should come with Bad Song Alert warning as one room is decorated like a bar complete with Petula Clark’s”Downtown” blaring throughout the entire time the crew tries to unravel the puzzle.  Viewers may agree with Tyler who mutters, “I hate this room.” Others have worse danger than potential ear worms. Otherwise, “Escape Room” isn’t a bad way to spend a couple of hours.

A Look Back: Uncle Buck

When you were a kid, did you ever see a TV commercial for something that you just knew would be really cool to have? From the hours we spent logged on the livingroom couch in the eighties, my sister and I saw many things fitting this description including – yes, the Clapper. What could possibly more fun than turning the house lights on and off just by – clapping? (This was the pre-Alexa era.) Unfortunately, I think this was one of those products that adults were able to sense the Annoyingness Potential in advance, so the Clapper never materialized. But when I saw the Clapper make a cameo in “Uncle Buck,” I felt like cheering. And I knew that Buck (John Candy) would be the sort of adult who – like many in the movies – had a heart of gold. And also the heart of a child. Here was a grownup I wouldn’t mind spending a couple of hours with as a kid – even a week. (If Mrs. Doubtfire was unavailable that is.)

Looking back, I think the real mystery of “Uncle Buck,” is how two generic movie parents (Elaine Bromke and Garrett M. Brown) managed to produce such three personality-filled offspring. After a manufactured crisis which gets the parents out of the house, John – who does not have a steady job – arrives to look after Jean Louisa Kelly (who played Richard Dreyfuss’s highly age-inappropriate muse in “Mr. Holland’s Opus“), Gaby Hoffman (who was in a non-porno called “The Hairy Bird“) and Macaulay Culkin (who co-starred with Michael Jackson in the “Black or White” video which remains, to this day, some of his finest work). Jean Louisa , being a Rebellious Teen, is decidedly un-thrilled to have a babysitter; the other two, being preteens, are not. Jean Louisa especially isn’t after John sticks his nose in her “love” life, threatening her sleazy boyfriend (Jay Underwood) with an axe. But his name is “Bug,” so we know that John is in the right.

John also takes a stab at doing household chores, even bringing in the cat at night, although the family technically doesn’t have a cat. He visits Gaby’s anal-retentive principal with some truly unfortunate blemishes in loco parentis and puts the wrath of God in her for being a “brain dead scag.” He also rises to the occasion on Macaulay’s birthday, not only punching out an intoxicated party performer (this happened a lot in that cinematic era – see “Parenthood“), but making him an enormous stack of pancakes. When the parents finally return, things are just peachy, and John has even managed to patch things up with his own girlfriend.

I have a book of essays on John Hughes (“Don’t You Forget About Me”) which only mentions “Uncle Buck” a couple of times, but if we didn’t have that movie, we probably wouldn’t have had “Home Alone,” as that was when the director first took note of Macaulay Culkin. While “Buck” will never reach the heights of adoration that the Molly Ringwald trilogy inspires, it’s still not a bad way to spend a couple of retro-ish hours.

Movie Review: Vice

In a Saturday Night Live sketch, George W. Bush and Al Gore meet at a Chili’s so the latter can give the former some post-election advice. Upon hearing Bush state that he’s number two, and his veep is number one, Gore feels obliged to correct him. “Uh, Bush, I think you’re the boss.”

Bush’s eyes widen to the size of dinner plates. “That’s not what Dick Cheney said!” he protests.

Unsurprisingly “Vice,” the new Cheney biopic goes with that narrative, portraying Cheney as a sort of anti-Jiminy Cricket, albeit one with liver spots and graying hair, perched on the metaphorical shoulder of Bush (Sam Rockwell) and influencing all sorts of diabolical goings-on in the Oval Office that the public would be shocked – simply shocked – if they knew. Of course, if the viewer (like me) is someone whose outrage fatigue at politicians behaving badly with no consequences set in long ago, it’s too late for shock. Born during Watergate, my fatigue had its roots in the Iran-Contra affair, but your mileage may vary.

After flashbacks to Cheney’s (Christian Bale’s) misspent youth in which he flunks out of Yale – much to the consternation of his ambitious wife (Amy Adams), comes home to Wyoming to do mundane jobs and drinks a lot, “Vice” begins the morning of 9-11. Like many of us on that fateful day, it shows him staring at the TV screen in (presumable) shock as smoke pours from the Twin Towers struggling to make sense of it all, but unlike most of us (according to the narrator), Christian sees this as a fateful opportunity. Indeed, he’s already seized the chance to take control of jobs that the vice president ordinarily doesn’t do. So when it comes to manipulating the Cabinet and the public, Christian is comfortably positioned in the driver’s seat.

But again, it’s time for flashbacks to Christian’s internship in Congress where he latches onto Donald Rumsfeld (Steve Carell enjoying himself immensely), and a more Machiavellian mentor would be hard to find. Eventually, Christian has the first of several heart attacks while campaigning, giving Amy a chance to make speeches and do something besides simply stand by her man. When Christian is asked to run again later on, he chooses instead to become the CEO of Halliburton rather than subject his gay daughter (Alison Pill) to attacks from his opponent. But ultimately he becomes veep, and thus the US is thrust into war. We all know how that worked out.

“Vice” is not a subtle movie; at times it feels as if the director is whacking you with a sledgehammer, but it has some excellent performances including Rockwell as Bush Junior. Will Ferrell, who played Bush on SNL, is a producer, perhaps he gave Rockwell pointers. However, it’s received multiple Golden Globe nominations, so critics obviously think it’s worth seeing.

 

Movie Review: Holmes and Watson

Approximately ten minutes into “Holmes and Watson,” I had the premonition that a character was about to make a Trump joke. And indeed this occurred. I wish I could attribute it to my superior intelligence and powers of deduction, but it was probably just because I have seen my share of movies throughout the years. And even though “Holmes and Watson” is not as horrendous as most critics make out, it will probably go in the “Mostly Forgotten” bin soon after I complete this review. The creator of Sherlock Holmes, the great fictional British detective and his sidekick, Dr. John Watson, were created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who is duly credited, but I feel fairly convinced that Doyle would have preferred to have his name left off this one. Or maybe not – who knows?

When the film starts, Holmes (Will Ferrell) is trying on hats (hence the Trump joke) while his heterosexual lifemate Watson (John C. Reilly) tries to convince him to hurry because they have just received an invitation from the Queen (Pam Ferris) to Buckingham Palace. While there, a surprise birthday party is sprung on the Queen, and alas, a corpse tumbles out of the cake putting a damper on things. This all has to do with the recent escape of their nemesis, Moriarty (Ralph Fiennes), who is obviously taunting Will, and a message reveals that if the mystery is not solved in two days, the Queen will die. Once at the morgue, the duo runs into an American doctor (Rebecca Hall) and her mute patient (Lauren Lapkus) who believes she is a cat (don’t ask).

While Will is busy projectile boofing into a bucket outside the morgue and flirting with Lauren, John and Rebecca fall in love over dismembering the corpse to unearth clues. Rebecca also plants the notion that John is a wee bit unappreciated by Will and should angle to be named “co-detective.” Though Will shoots this idea down, he still needs John’s help, which will involve a wrestling match, a selfie with the Queen gone horribly wrong and the belated realization that he has emotions! This in turn helps Will slot the final piece in the puzzle and triumph – this time, giving John his due, even if it involves a series of progressively un-funnier Titanic jokes.

“Holmes and Watson” won’t win any places in the Cinematic Comedy Hall of Fame, but it’s amusing, and it doesn’t wear out its welcome. It has some moments that had pockets in my theater laughing heartily, and it had its share of jokes that landed with a thud. So your mileage may vary.