Cold Pursuit

CP_01

We ventured off to the eastern Appletonion tundra for an exclusive viewing of Cold Pursuit, one of the whitest movies you are ever likely to see.  L&D had our usual spectacular reserved seats, but being the sole souls in one of the Marcus spacious megaplexes, we were free to throw our hands up in the air and wave ’em like we just didn’t care and we said “oh, yeah!”  Not too shabby for $5.

The verdict for this one:  Revenge is a dish best served cold.  Really cold.  By Liam Neeson.  And for the most part, we really enjoyed what director Hans Petter Moland served up, and you will probably find plenty to enjoy here, too.  There are great visuals, some compelling characters, high comedy, and some thrilling, efficient violence.  But while the movie has many good pieces, these pieces just don’t add up to a great movie.

The biggest piece, as you know, is Neeson himself.  He plays Nels Coxman (giving us a second reason to break out the “cock” tag), a snowplow driver tasked with keeping the road clear from Denver to the skiing community of Kehoe.   He is a great guy, he’s the winner of the coveted Kehonian-of-the-Year Award, though we aren’t really sure why, which is one of the many added elements here that never quite adds up.

Mrs. Coxman is played by Laura Dern, or perhaps a mannequin that looks like Laura Dern — given a long blonde wig and a handful of quaaludes I could have probably played this part as well.  Her best line in the movie is her farewell card, which in retrospect was pretty funny, though at that point in the movie it wasn’t clear that this was a black comedy, so it wasn’t that funny.  And she wasn’t around to deliver the card anyway, so that was too bad. But, hey, Laura Dern!

The spawn of the Coxman union doesn’t hang around for long, either.   He works at the local airport and gets Taken™ under highly suspicious circumstances, sending the movie on its bloody white trajectory.

As in other Neeson projects, he has a particular set of skills — learned from listening to true-crime novels while he drives, perhaps? — that allow him to rub out bad guys and get to the bottom of things.  Clearly, the hook here is that he is a man of all seasons.

The rest of the plot is just all over the place.  The Denver drug kingpin, “Viking” (Tom Bateman), is like a gluten-free Quentin Tarantino, in looks and in propensities for clever wordplay and idiosyncratic ultra-violence.  Viking is a pretty high-quality villain.  He is in the process of divorcing his wife, and the two battle over appropriate dietary choices of their son, who is sort of like a Lisa Simpson character, listening to Bach and picking football games.  There are also a couple of points of intrigue amongst the Viking henchmen that are essential to the plot but that probably warranted either a little more or a little less attention.

As Neeson works his way up the Viking food chain, he enlists the help of his mustachioed brother, a reformed gangster gone straight thanks to an assertive and colorful Vietnamese woman.  His brother seems affable enough, so it’s not clear why the two were estranged?  Hard to say.   His brother’s wife (Elizabeth Thai) is one of the reasons you might want to buy a ticket to this movie.  She is a woman to be reckoned with and it’s a shame we didn’t get more of a reckoning with her.

Viking initially attributes the damage to his gang to a Native American gang that runs things in Kehoe, putting Neeson in the middle of a gang spat.  This is being monitored by the Kehoe P.D., featuring the set-in-his-ways veteran and the savvy young partner.

That is a lot of characters competing for attention, not to mention the supporting and incidentals cast.  We are also hit with a shotgun blast of literary referencing, with the movie kicking off with a direct quote from Oscar Wilde, then an allusion to a Robert Frost poem within the first few minutes, and then the dropping William Golding shortly thereafter.  L started taking notes on the back of his ticket stub just to try to keep us up to speed. It’s also probably notable that pretty much every named character has a nickname, The Eskimo, Santa, Speedo, Limbo, Santa, Smoke, Windex, and on it goes. I bet that fits together in a clever way, but I don’t think the payoff is big enough for me to actually dump the pieces on the table and figure it out.

I learned that this film is actually a remake of his 2014 film In Order of Disappearance, which Morland directed for the more exclusive Norwegian audience (I just put it on hold at APL!).  I suppose the reason you make a remake is to take advantage of Hollywood money and Hollywood stars, such as Neeson and Dern.   Yet the film, despite its outrageous outdoor visuals, isn’t shot on widescreen.  Why is that?

Overall, this is an ambitious project, but Moland unfortunately never quite got a handle on his narrative.  He genuflects to the Coen brothers (especially and obviously Fargo, but also No Country for Old Men for its meditations on uncertainty) and Tarantino (see above), while also exploiting Neeson’s particular set of tools for the everyman vigilante angle.  This is probably closer to Fargo the television serial than Fargo the Coen brothers classic, but two hours isn’t enough time to flesh out the likes of ten or so principal characters. And so Moland ultimately failed to make the hard choices about choosing a theme and tightening the narrative.  Coupled with the onset of Neeson’s own foot-in-mouth disease, this film seems to be queued up for its own disappearance from the public’s consciousness.

 

 

 

 

Blockers

blockers.movie.poster

This film is hilarious. I would put it up there with some of my favorite comedies like last years’ underrated Office Christmas Party and the Will Ferrell classic Old School. Though it has more in common with American Pie. With Blockers I felt like I was watching an instant classic.  The film has a great innocence to it mixed in with plenty of full frontal dudity. Not the nudity we were expecting but comedicly perfect.

We don’t get paid (yet) for writing the L & D but let’s say we are a known quantity at the movie theater. From the moment we entered until we took our seats, we were asked several times what we were watching tonight. And I will speak for myself when I say that I blushed. It’s just the word cock. There, I said it, cock, cock, cock.  Even when you just have to say Blockers, cock is implied. Even sometimes, you know, I live on Hancock Street and sometimes I feel funny when I have to spell it out for someone. I mean, self-conscious.  “Sir, did you say Hancock?” “Yes, H. A. N. C. O. C. K.”

So what happened is that neither one of us would say what we were going to go see and just sort of walked away. But they knew. They knew. And would yell to us, “It’s supposed to be really good!” And really good it was. I laughed out loud and knee slapped like there was no tomorrow. It seemed to capture this zeitgeist and generational gap flawlessly and easily, while taking side steps to ask a few profound universal questions —in between bouts of anal abuse and projectile vomiting.

I want to congratulate the filmmakers and actors on a smart, inclusive, funny, irreverent and enjoyable work. I look forward to watching it again sometime. And that is rare. 

Phantom Thread

sniffer
“I smell the blood of an English mum”

 

We were about 45 minutes into this latest Paul Thomas Anderson piece when I realized I was completely transfixed by a movie about an uptight dressmaker who lived with his very measured sister and was making a lot of dresses for a young waitress.  Not exactly Thor for a plot line or for action.  I also realized I was pretty excited because I had no idea where this was headed.

The movie is set in 1950s London, and focuses a lot on gender roles and who gets what in a relationship.  The central tension is between the dressmaker, Reynolds Woodcock (Daniel Day-Lewis), and his love interest / model / protege / partner, Alma (Vicki Krieps).  The other major player is is Woodcock’s sister, Cyril (Lesley Manville), who is subtly managing the board to keep her brother on the straight and narrow.  In the deeper background is Woodcock’s mother, Woodcock is a mama’s boy, and the questions of matrimony and maternity are paramount throughout, even if the movie doesn’t ever come right out and say it.

So what do you need to know here?  First off, the movie is ostensibly about an insufferable male tyrant type, the type of guy who simply cannot start the day with a confrontation because he has no time for confrontations — if he has a bad breakfast, he may never recover.  The one who commends his own “gallantry” for eating asparagus that is not prepared the way he likes it.  Were you sent here to ruin his evening?

Second off, the movie is actually about the women around him. One set is predominantly populated with the Woodcock label’s army of skilled seamstresses, who spend their days watching Woodcock eye up his dresses, and then work their magic with the needles and thread.  This group is skilled but lacks agency.  Cyril lets them know when to come and she lets them know when they can go.

There is another group of women with various levels of authority based on either their wealth or their social status — indeed, the Woodcock empire is built on draping wealthy women with unimaginably beautiful clothing.  These women purchase Woodcock’s attention.

The third group is Woodcock’s love interests, including Alma, and there is some dissection of how a woman can move into a different social strata based either on her position or her money or on Woodcock’s interest.  There is some fluidity here between groups, and in the clumsiest exposition in the film, a competitor for Woodcock’s attentions dutifully (and annoyingly) attempts to undermine Alma’s claim on Woodcock’s affections.

And, finally, we have his sister, Cyril, who represents the meritocratic & perhaps nepotistic element.  It is Cyril who enables, encourages, Reynolds’ single-mindedness and surliness, and one suspects that without her machinations, Reynolds may well have gone the route of Bartleby the Scrivener. Cyril evaluates her brother’s potential companions like the second in command looking out for the alpha dog.  Indeed, when Cyril first encounters Alma, there is a prolonged scene where she sniffs her, up close like, and susses out why Alma smells the way she does, and then the Woodcock siblings literally take to sizing her up.  It is ridiculous and unsettling and evidently as normal as can be in the land of Woodcock.  I’m pretty sure I could make the case that she is playing the role of a protective mother, though I think there is something else going on here.  At any rate, Lesley Manville is both beautiful and marvelous in this role.

The bottom line is that you can take the movie at face value and you will find it beautiful and possibly that it has a lot to say about cut-throat competition in human interactions.  The dresses are certainly astonishing.  I’m no fashionista — I leave that to my colleague —  yet I enjoyed the sartorial splendor for the women and for the men. Krieps, Manville, and Day-Lewis are all phenomenal.  It is straight up quite the show.

But I would urge you to have an open mind about this being a comedy, because the movie is seriously hilarious.  After all, the main character’s name is Reynolds Woodcock, a name with tremendous comedic potential. If you don’t agree, I mean, what is wrong with you? Reynolds Woodcock?!?  That’s not an accident.  Consider this:  this is the same filmmaker that brought us Tom Cruise saying unspeakably filthy things, gave us Boogie Nights and all that entailed, and built an entire movie around Adam Sandler arbitraging coupons off of pudding cups.  We also have the sniffing scene, Daniel Day-Lewis ordering breakfast like he was expecting a table full of lumberjacks, Daniel Day-Lewis wearing purple pajamas and a tweed sport coat, and a running joke about how annoying  toast butterers can be. And then there is the wedding dress for the princess.  If you are watching this as a comedy, you are laughing at this dress.  Indeed, L&D laffed out loud throughout, and there was audible cackling from all corners the theater. Overall, I can pretty much guarantee that there are more laugh out loud moments in this than you will find in the film actually called Mr. Woodcock.

I encourage you to check it out because it is beautiful, awesome, hilarious, and may well be Daniel Day-Lewis’ last role.  As a P.T. Anderson junkie, this is way over the $5 bar for me.  L wasn’t completely sold on it, but I don’t think he had buyer’s remorse over his $5.  I can see his point and will admit that I was a bit disappointed in the final half hour and don’t think it was tied together as a masterpiece (like, say, There Will Be Blood), but it was certainly thought provoking — we had a good discussion about the differences between Wes Andersen and P. T. Anderson, the parallels to Mother! and The Beguiled (and here) and a bunch of other stuff.  I bet L would even put this over the $6 Thursday bar.