Category: Review

Producer / Actress Margot Robbie’s ice skating vehicle is a Rashomon-like tale that will exact a worthwhile toll from anyone who watches it. What is the truth here? The truth is which lie would you like to believe. It may be simpler to figure out who killed Kennedy. But the answer as the song goes is always the same,“♫ You and Me ♫”.  Sports pundit Jim Rome likes to opine — often in reference to the New England Patriots — “The cover up is worse than the crime.” Her cover up cost Tonya Harding the one thing she truly loved, the ability to skate professionally. The crime may have cost Nancy Kerrigan and the US an Olympic gold medal. As for who knew what, when — and how it got out of hand…at some point you realize that in terms of a narrative, the story itself, unless told from multiple points of view in repetitive chapters or in a 4 way split screen (you may recall the Mike Figgis masterpiece Timecode), can only be told in one way…in this case with a plethora of disclaimers, caveats and plenty of fourth wall breaking. The narrative device employed by the filmmakers is documentary. Or here, pseudo-documentary. It’s a perfect 1990s Postmodern reference to itself. Using an original cinematic form that in its pure expression is intended to tell the truth —warts and all— in the end only exposes how each individual believes their own truth.

I am going to shift gears now to mention the outstanding Cinematography. It was as flawless as a patented Tonya Harding triple axel. A mixture of Stedi-cam plan-séquences with seamless cuts a la Birdman, combined with insanely graceful and controlled skating montages that would make Hitchcock choke a dinner guest at a cocktail party combined with gritty handheld work of Tonya getting the shit kicked out of her and her kicking everyone in the balls right back. A truly virtuoso performance for Director of Photography Nicolas Karakatsanis.

As for Tonya…At least in this characterization, she shifts blame for every event onto others or her circumstances. Her basically superhuman athletic prowess could keep her above the fray of her sordid life for only so long. Eventually events, and some of those events caused by her own hand and her own negligence come back to haunt her.

Sports is filled with cheating and cheaters. It’s almost built into the competition…the idea of winning at all costs. Take one look at the Russian Olympic program which is almost entirely banned from this coming Olympics for the systematic and state sponsored use of performance enhancing steroids. The story of Tonya spins out from here as a Shakespearean sideshow. Errors were made. The poison was accidentally taken. The sword was mistakenly plunged. The note was naively jotted, with Kerrigan’s practice arena, and practice times, by Tonya Harding, and tossed thoughtlessly away to become the concern of only the FBI and then the world.

What’s amazing about Tonya Harding is that she is simultaneously a victim, a superhero, a felon, blessed and cursed, you can always root for her and ultimately be disappointed in her choices. And you can be certain that at the same time that she is giving you the finger she also sincerely wants your admiration and respect.

“King George VI is underrated” — D

This seeming Dunkirk prequel is mesmerizing in its cinematography, set and costume design and concept — the power of the written and spoken word. As Viscount Halifax says of Winston Churchill, “He mobilized the English language and sent it into battle.” Its fatal flaw, like watching an Olympic high diver do a belly flop in super slo-mo, is the story. Darkest Hour is in an uphill fight the entire way in that we all know the outcome. Britain neither negotiated nor capitulated with the Nazis— “NEVER” as a little girl says to Churchill in the London Underground. The film does have many worthwhile and powerful moments. However, it also has something in common with a film we saw last week, All the Money in the World in that the story gets going and then hovers in an endless holding pattern, like Frontier Airlines trying to land at JFK on Christmas Eve. And so we watch helplessly as the brave Elizabeth Layton, played sympathetically by Lily James, tries to spur on a man who doesn’t really need pushing. It becomes tedious watching her float around the periphery of this story. It reminds me of another film we saw recently, The Lost City of Z, where Nina Fawcett, wife of explorer Percy Fawcett, is introduced and a sincere attempt is made to include her but it’s strained in that it is obviously not her story. I think it shows an earnestness on behalf of the filmmakers to be more inclusive in their storytelling but it falls to mere tokenism when the story is actually about someone who is an overpowering character. Theoretically we are supposed to see Churchill through the eyes of his assistant Elizabeth Layton but the story of Churchill is the story of a solitary man who is just as likely to have an epiphany in the W.C. as he is dictating a memo to her. The flat dimension of peripheral characters drag the narrative down to a repetitive, snail-like pace.

I still thought this film was okay. It captures a specific and critical moment in time spectacularly. If you are a history buff or are simply interested in all things WWII, it’s a must see. Also, if you are someone who really grooves on great acting, it is certainly on display here and worthy of acknowledgement. Gary Oldman will undoubtedly get an Oscar nod. Ultimately, Darkest Hour does provoke a lot of feelings about war, the toughest decisions and courage in the face of evil.

All the Money in the World is a fine example of what can go wrong if you don’t actually have a story to start with. Considering this, it is shocking that Ridley Scott Produced and Directed this film. It’s almost like he got carried away by the chance to shoot in remarkable locations, with an A-list cast and tell a story that in parts could inspire real horror and empathy. Yet there is no core to All the Money in the World. No one to sympathize with. No stakes to get raised. Furthermore, to the detriment of the narrative, the film continues to refer back to J. Paul Getty’s (played convincingly by Christopher Plummer) immense and constantly growing wealth. This serves to deflate the thin tension that exists in the story in the first place. Meanwhile, as contemptible as they are, you almost feel bad for the goofball peasants who kidnapped grandson Paul III. They just want to eat their pasta, play their music and expand their good quality knock-off Gucci bags empire. (Who doesn’t appreciate a good knock-off Gucci?) This is another slap in face to basic storytelling. Make your bad folks really bad. So the villains, though criminal, ultimately aren’t that villainous and the heroes, if you can call them that, aren’t that heroic. It seems like they are all just having a bad case of the Mondays that goes on for a few months.

You know that sooner or later the Getty’s will get back to those antiquities, paintings and villas. There is no psychological drama, no Stockholm syndrome, no real connection among anyone in the film. I started making up obstacles like, “Will Paul III fall in love with that home made gravy from the one lady cook who all these kidnappers seem to always have around?” Or how about the relationship between Mark Wahlberg and Michelle Williams? This would have been a perfect place to invoke artistic license and build up a strong fictional yet meaningful relationship. But the relationship here remains about as superficial as the flesh would Williams delivers to Wahlberg with the handset of a faded mustard yellow telephone. The telephone in the film becomes a main character, another storytelling faux pas breaking the show don’t tell rule. Yet the actors did do an admirable job in spite of having so little to work with story-wise.

Is the movie based on a true story? Yes. Loosely based. Instead of human relationships though, the film decides to fictionalize a Keystone Cops style chase in ACT III. It’s almost impossible to suspend disbelief in this case. The only thing this film does make me want to do is watch a survey of Patty Hearst movies like the 1979 made for TV classic, “The Ordeal of Patty Hearst.” Or any other kidnap movies for that matter. Taken comes to mind. Maybe Die Hard, since it is Christmas. Or since it’s minus 5 degrees out and more of a heist than kidnap movie, some egg nog and Dog Day Afternoon, you know, just to warm up a little. Like the lives depicted, All the Money in the World certainly left me cold.

When I lived in Hollywood I’d occasionally stop in at a cafe that was frequented by Guillermo del Toro. There were always tales of Guillermo sightings before he would go back to his office across the street. Everyone knew that the great Spanish Director of Pan’s Labyrinth was cooking up something good and The Shape of Water was well worth the suspense.

This morning I was listening to NYC news on internet radio and during the entertainment report just about every other new release for this week was mentioned: Perfect Pitch 3, The Greatest Showman, Jumanji 2 but not The Shape of Water. I think this is mostly because its premise is so absurd on its face that it’s not considered mainstream. Yet the film is inspired by the 1954 classic, Creature from the Black Lagoon. That said, The Shape of Water takes an original spin and is unafraid to deal with aspects of sexuality that society in general feels uncomfortable seeing portrayed on-screen. Not only that, as a period piece from 1961, it calls out segregation and fear of the other — of anyone or even in this case anything that is different.  It’s ironic that The Greatest Showman is about the circus itself and yet The Shape of Water has more in common with Tod Brownings edgy 1932 big top classic Freaks than Jackman’s sanitized vehicle.

With some incredible special effects The Shape if Water is unfettered in its ability to go deep into fantasy, early on paying homage to Dorothy’s ruby slippers and later a full blown black and white Golden Age of Cinema musical number. And like Dorothy, the amphibious creature will do a song and dance here and now but knows that ultimately there is no place like home.

Octavia Spencer, as Zelda D. Fuller, here easily slings the best laugh out loud zingers of 2017. However, as D. noted after the film, her character disappears for a large chunk and then sputters out at the end. Though I will say that the main characters all do have multidimensional lives and concerns. We follow the mute protagonist Elisa’s (an Oscar nomination worthy performance by Sally Hawkins) only friend, Giles (the masterful Richard Jenkins who was incredible in the vampire thriller Let Me In) get rejected from a big illustration gig and then also, in humiliating fashion, from a possible romance. We also follow Dr. Robert Hoffstetler (Michael Stuhlbarg, star of the Coen Bros. A Serious Man), his intrigue with Moscow lackeys and his personal conflict in putting science over politics. Then there is government contractor Strickland, who captured and hates the creature. He wants to eviscerate amphibious man before the scientists even get a chance to fully examine him. Strickland is played by Micheal Shannon in what has to be one of his greatest performances. It. Is. Creepy. Shannon made me squirm and alternately made my stomach turn in every other depraved scene he is in. He makes the audience ask, “Who is the real monster here?” Ironically Strickland wants to kill the one thing that could save him.

Thematically, the film resembles E.T. as a misunderstood being with unimaginable powers is tossed around a lab like a frog in Freshman Bio. Aesthetically, the film draws from Amélie and City of Lost Children with its stylized camera set-ups and movements, oxidized color palette and steampunk sensibility.

The general openness of this film will play much better worldwide than here in the States, where it can’t even make the entertainment section on the radio. However, I think it will become a cult classic and be appreciated when all the other more commercial titles from this week are long gone and forgotten. The Shape of Water gave me chills and may even have opened my mind…just a little.