Month: October 2023

BEETLEJUICE

By Marc S. Sanders

On Friday night, we watched Beetlejuice the movie.  On Saturday afternoon, we watched Beetlejuice the musical, and as soon as the curtain was pulled on the stage and the performance began, I knew exactly what the movie did wrong and what the play did so right.

I saw Tim Burton’s much beloved spooky comedy for the first time just last year with my Cinemaniac pals, which includes the other Unpaid Movie Critic.  The guys were laughing and laughing until it hurt.  I was off to the side thinking how I remember seeing that scene while flipping channels on occasion.  Cute, but ultimately boring.  That’s how I feel about Burton’s second film, following a hilarious debut with Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and just ahead of his blockbuster accomplishments with the first two Batman films.  Beetlejuice is full of big ideas but devoid of content, and I mean that literally, because the title character brilliantly played by Michael Keaton is scarcely in the film.  When he is not on screen, the remaining cast are quite bland or unwelcomingly weird.

Adam and Barbara (Alec Baldwin, Geena Davis) happily reside in a three-story Connecticut home.  Adam indulges in making a scaled model of their picturesque hometown and Barbara…well I can’t recall what she does.  On an errand trip, they haphazardly die and suddenly return to the house.  Yet, they realize quickly that they have expired and what is even less convenient is that they cannot leave the house lest they end up in a kind of limbo threatened by a monstrous sand worm and other unusual experiences. 

Shortly after, Charles and Delia (Jeffrey Jones, Catherine O’Hara), appearing with the typical Tim Burton flavor, move into the house along with his suicidal daughter Lydia (Winona Ryder) and their quirky interior decorator Otho (Glenn Shadix).  They plan to refurbish the house in their own way with Delia’s ugly art sculptures and Charles looking for a reading room.  Adam and Barbara want them out so they can roam free and avoid being contained within the attic. 

Upon discovering that Lydia can speak with them and following an entrance to the Netherworld, they get an idea to scare the new owners away.  Only whatever efforts they set out to make fails miserably and they consider reciting the name of the “ghost with the most” three times to carry him over to their side to do their bidding.

Great storyline.  Sounds great on paper.  So why didn’t it work for me?  Well, Lydia is resigned to her mostly miserable suicidal self and that is neither funny nor empathetic to me.  More importantly, conflict works best when different worlds clash and what I find lacking in several Tim Burton films is that the characters on both sides of the coin are not different enough from one another.  The ghosts or souls or comforts of the Netherworld do not look far enough apart from how Charles, Delia, Lydia and especially Otho behave.  Everyone is weird.  Where is the normalcy to ruin or undo or disagree with? 

Beetlejuice himself is a character to behold though.  Keaton is doing Jim Carrey better than Jim Carrey does and long before that guy was ever discovered.  The actor is working in the area of Robin Williams material, particularly as the Genie from Alaadin.  The issue I have is that Michael Keaton is seldom in the film.  It is a long first act with Baldwin and Davis not doing much of anything before they finally encounter Beetlejuice to have a couple of funny exchanges.  Then they leave him to have mundane conversations with everyone else in the film, particularly Winona Ryder who has nothing to do except dress in her signature, depressing black.  When Keaton finally is summoned, he takes possession of a dinner party with the beloved Calypso tune “Dayo.”  However, we don’t see Keaton in this popular sequence.  Instead, we get Jones and O’Hara with David Niven doing odd contortions to the music with some butt shaking and grotesque facial and body expressions.  I would rather have seen Keaton doing his funny best in a lip sync routine.  What’s in the final cut is just not funny enough for me. Kooky, yes.  Funny, no.

Eventually, the black and white striped suited ghost with green hair is called back for the final act and we get to see him pull all the tricks out of his hat.  However, it’s not enough.  Just as the routine is getting started, it’s over, and then the movie is over. 

There are some inventive sight gags.  Not enough though.  I particularly loved the shrunken headed ghoul with the googly eyes and the pink skinned prostitute whose legs are separated from her torso.  I love when Beetlejuice’s head gets shrunk, and I like when Adam and Barbara’s faces are contorted into odd shapes of gigantic beaks or zany skulls beneath their facial skin.  These are the highlights of this film’s Netherworld and the distance I travel to see it all is smaller than Rhode Island.  In the original Star Wars, I experienced what felt like thousands of alien races.  In Ghostbusters, New York is haunted by one different kind of afterlife from another and another.  In any episode of The Muppet Show, I get to see one breed of silliness before another ridiculous set up is put into play.  The Netherworld setting of Beetlejuice is simply not vast enough.

The stage musical makes up for the shortcomings I have with the film.  The spine of the story is what the two pieces have in common.  After that, the stage play takes more risks.  The musical numbers are absolutely winning.  More significantly though, all the characters are granted more depth and dimension.  The root cause of Lydia’s anguish is explored.  We see the snobbery of Charles just like in the film, but he is also a loving father who recognizes Lydia’s suffering following the loss of his wife/her mother.  Delia also has a desire to connect with her stepdaughter Lydia.  All the elements are given enough attention amidst the craziness offered by Beetlejuice himself who occupies the story from beginning to end.  The character works like a great two-hour stand-up routine with his unlimited imagination of ghoulish trickery and fun.

Burton’s film was released in the late-1980s when updated stop motion effects of the puppet kind were new to the medium of film.  The imagination was there, though it does not hold up as it is very outdated.  Still, Tim Burton was showing his gift for macabre creativity that he has become known for ever since.  Nevertheless, he did not go far enough with the vision of his film, and he did not award any of his characters enough ingredients to let them be unique.  It is not enough that they all speak weird and look strange.  It is better if we can know why they are so uncompromisingly odd.  Beetlejuice the film lacks its variety. More specifically, it lacks its Beetlejuice.

KILLERS OF THE FLOWER MOON

By Marc S. Sanders

Killers Of The Flower Moon reflects on a period in Oklahoma history that I imagine has hardly been told.  In the early 1920s, the Native American residents, consisting of four tribes, came into a blessing of wealth when oil was discovered on the land they occupied in Osage County.  Almost immediately, white folk from all over the country migrated to this area and built up an infrastructure of capitalism that included private practices, pool halls, movie houses, law enforcement, pharmaceuticals, and even cab drivers.  However, they didn’t want to just stop at developing the area.  They wanted to seize it and they proceeded to do so by wiping out the Native American residents.  Family lineages were all but erased as the whites married into the race and gradually found ways to kill and bring about surprising deaths that would ultimately allow them to legally inherit what was rightfully owned by the Indian people.

Director Martin Scorsese has introduced a new kind of historical education with a film that I believe will be my favorite picture of the year.  I was mesmerized by every photographic shot, closeup, edit, and musical accompaniment contained in this movie.  Everything works so well. 

Robert De Niro reunites with the director for the tenth time; an amazing legacy of a partnership spanning fifty years.  He portrays William “King” Hale.  King is a kindly old fellow on the surface, but his intelligence shows as he strategizes how to take over more and more of this area.  He oversees a control of the white gentlemen folk, leading them into quick marriages with the young women of the tribes.  From there, they have children and over time will gradually purify the bloodline.  It’s a ruthless and scheming tactic and it successfully works thanks to how taciturn Mr. Hale is.  De Niro might win his third Oscar for this role.  This character joins that exclusive fraternity of the best villains in cinematic history, ranking up there with The Wicked Witch, Harry Lime, Norman Bates, Darth Vader, Joker, Daniel Plainview and Hannibal Lecter.

Early on in the epic film, The King’s nephew, Ernest Burkart (Leonardo DiCaprio) has returned from the war to work under his uncle.  Ernest starts as a cab driver and meets Molly (Lily Gladstone), the Native American woman he will take as a bride and establish residence together.  DiCaprio does some of his best work following a very boastful career of roles.  He’s also sure to get at least an Oscar nomination.  This is already his sixth film with Scorsese.  Ernest is not very bright, but with The King’s guidance and instruction he’ll also come to own much of this territory.

Mysterious deaths of unexpected natures occur within the tribes of Osage County, particularly in Molly’s family.  Over the course of the film, one relative after another perishes until what’s left of her bloodline is practically only herself.  The children she bears are a mix of Molly and Ernest.  Molly knows something is amiss.  She is starting not to feel well, and her suspicions speak to her.  Others in the community are also suffering peculiar deaths following doctor’s visits or evenings of drunken binging.  An investigation is warranted before it becomes too late.

Lily Gladstone will become a surprise hit at Oscar time as well.  A breakthrough role where her feared silence and bravery matches well against the deceit emanating from the King and even the poorly hidden conniving of her husband Ernest.

Scorsese builds his film with suspense and shock.  A quiet beat of instrumental music haunts certain scenes.  Who will be the next target of the King’s bidding?  The King hides behind his empathy for loss by attending funeral services and allowing the survivors to cry into his shoulder.  On another side, he instructs Ernest to carry out an assignment to some flunky to make a murder appear like a suicide.  A shot in the back of the head will not send a convincing cause and effect though, and the King and Ernest must make up for that. 

The King is everyone’s friend in Osage County, but he’s also a puppet master Grim Reaper.  With the circular rim glasses that DeNiro wears along with his peaceful beige suits, it’s a wonder that this man is an executioner using the hands of others to carry out his bidding.  He dances in the middle of town during festive gatherings.  It even amuses the Sheriff’s office when he voluntarily offers himself up following a warrant for his arrest.  At the risk of getting politically sided, DeNiro was recently interviewed during a press junket for the film.  His animosity towards President Trump is no secret.  I was in the audience at Radio City Music Hall when he led a unified roar of “Fuck Trump” during the Tony Awards.  Still, the skilled actor said he used the enmity he harbors to his advantage for this role.  In the latter half of the film, William “The King” Hale preaches in a similar approach to Trump.  There are figures in our history who just know what buttons to push and absorb massive amounts of influence while earning respect through fear. 

Killers Of The Flower Moon covers a wide berth of its period in history.  Scorsese takes an inspired approach by cutting away on occasion with black and white footage and photographs of the Native Americans coming along with their good fortune and then on to how the white “immigrants” of this area enter this land and assume a daily life within the community, whether they were welcomed or not.  All is depicted from how Osage County quickly changed following the discovery of “black gold,” to how Ernest becomes wise to the advantages of power. 

Leonardo DiCaprio has a great undertaking.  Ernest is not very bright.  He can hardly read.  He’s not subtle with his approach like his uncle.  Yet, the actor maintains an expression of no choice to abide by but what he’s been told is right.  DiCaprio does this incredible expression with long frowned lips and a fat chin that stands out from beneath his nose.  It almost seems like a barrier to finding the humanity he may have once had when he was an infantryman fighting with the allies in Europe.  It is just a haunting performance.

The third act picks up with J Edgar Hoover’s newly established Bureau of Investigation entering the story to investigate the odd happenings in Osage.  Jesse Plemons again plays that guy that you have seen somewhere before.  Often, he occupies similar kinds of roles, and still, I like what he contributes to this picture as Investigator Tom White.  Screenwriter Eric Roth lends the character simple, plainly worded questions for Plemmons to work with and it seems to come off as nothing intimidating.  Rather, the presence of Tom White on Ernest’s doorstep, with Molly mysteriously sick in the bedroom, is enough to rattle Ernest, the King, and the whole county.

It’s no secret that Killers Of The Flower Moon has a long running time at nearly three and a half hours.  However, it is necessary.  This widespread crime is not done in just minutes.  How it is gradually orchestrated needs to be seen, followed by those that uncovered how sinister it became.  Then attention needs to be given to how biased the trials of Ernest and The King had become.  Men who conspired with the King and Ernest serve on the jury.  A lot of unfair wrongs occurred during this time spanning what I believe was at least a decade and a half. 

Roth and Scorsese bring the conclusion of the film with a welcome invention.  In a time where Netflix, Dateline, 20/20 and ABC News thrive off true life crime documentaries that become so addicting, the filmmakers resort to a radio show to sum up what happened to the main players of this devastating episode in twentieth century American history with the director making a cameo to offer his final words for the main victim of the piece, Molly Burkhart.  This bookend to the film has stayed with me since I finished watching the movie, and I applaud Scorsese and Roth for their execution.  Newsmakers of today go for the most sensationalized crimes that have occurred; the ones that leave the most shock and awe and even audaciousness.  What happened in Osage County is unforgivable.  Likely a genocide of bloodlines that were unjustly ceased so that what was rightfully theirs to own could be seized.

Killers Of The Flower Moon is a drama that had to be told because the motivations that led to the series of crimes happens not only to Native Americans, but to practically any other demographic across the globe.  This is a captivating story and one of the best films Martin Scorsese has ever made.

Again, this will likely be my favorite film of the year and Oscars are deserved for DeNiro, DiCaprio, Gladstone, Roth, Scorsese and for Best Picture of the Year. 

NOTE: As I watched this movie, I could not help but think of the film August: Osage County, the motion picture adapted from Tracy Letts’ Pulitzer Prize winning play.  There is one Native American character in the film who is hired to serve the white family living on a wide expanse of land in present day 2013 (2007 for the play).  The first time I watched the movie, I could not recognize the purpose of the character.  On a second viewing, following a conversation among the dysfunctional family of characters about Native Americans, it was much clearer.  Having now watched Scorsese’s film, this picture serves as a great companion piece to watch afterwards.  I’ll be directing a stage production of this soon and much of what I learned from both films will be incorporated into my interpretation.  Even the architectural designs of the homes in both films, interior and exterior, are uniquely similar. 

Look for my review of August: Osage County (featuring Julia Roberts and Meryl Streep) on this site as well.

CLOSER

By Marc S. Sanders

Mike Nichols is a director for those actors who really grind their teeth into the craft of performing with crackling dialogue.  Often, he goes for what makes a person drive awkwardness into a moment.   Equally he focuses on those folk who sustain the discomfort so apparent in a room.  Prime examples are his classic films Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf? and The Graduate.  There’s even some of instances in his slap happy comedy, The Birdcage. Towards the end of his career, Nichols adapted Patrick Marber’s biting play, Closer, into a film.  

Closer carries a four-pronged approach in the shapes of Jude Law, Natalie Portman, Julia Roberts and Clive Owen.  Law plays Dan who catches the eye of Alice (Portman), an alluring stripper who gets hit by a car on the streets of London.  Beginning with playful flirtation in the hospital waiting room, they develop a relationship mostly based on sex for the following year.  Later, Dan gets distracted by a beautiful, much more mature photographer named Anna (Roberts).  She rejects Dan’s horny advances and by some manipulation with online anonymous sex talk, he sways a sex starved doctor named Larry into meeting Anna at an aquarium.  Then, to Dan’s surprise, Anna and Larry get married. There’d be nothing more to discuss if these four lived happily going forward.  What follows, however, is a manipulative chess match of lies and deceit among the four.  

One after the other disarms somebody who they valued and thought they could live with at any given time.  Alice leaves Dan after he reveals an affair with Anna.  Larry has a regretful one-night stand with a woman in New York. Anna doesn’t mind because she’s been having an illicit affair with Dan.  Larry is miserable but begs Alice the stripper to justify his torment, assuming she’s also anguishing over being betrayed by Dan. Not likely the case as she erotically teases him in a private stripping room. This scene with Natalie Portman in control establishes as the best actor in the film.

The four players on the game board all start in their respective corners, only to go around the perimeter or advance diagonally across and pounce on what they don’t have. At any given moment someone is drawing the top card or rolling the dice, and it’ll have a direct effect on one of the other three or all of them at once.

Patrick Marber’s script gets more layered as the partners change hands, but it’s his dialogue that keeps you engaged.  Alice believes “Lying is the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off – but it is better if you do.”  An angry Larry confronts Anna by asking about Dan.  “What does it taste like?”  Anna’s reply: “Like you, only sweeter.” Ooooo!!!! Lines like these sting, and I’ve never met someone in real life who can think that quick on their feet with such savviness.

Just as in other scripts like Steel Magnolias and Glengarry Glen Ross, I think the characters in Closer (initially a stage play) speak a little too instinctively.  They’re just so quick with their hurtful insults, comebacks and seething expressions.  Therefore, should I like plays that perform on a higher, smarter plane; plays that work quicker than most minds can register with what to say next?  Well, I appease myself with a constant reminder that a piece like Closer is more performance art than truly authentic. These four characters are so quick with a verbal jab, while engaging in some foolhardy actions that promises to make their circumstance appear worse. How can they be so smart with a comeback while acting so stupid at the same time?

The cast of four are so sharp, alert and precise.  Most of the scenes in Nichols’ film are performed in different combinations of pairs.  Every one of them is expertly rehearsed and Roberts, Law, Owen and Portman are of course the strongest assets in the production.  However, Nichols wisely uses his lens in zoom close ups, practically justifying the quirky title of Patrick Marber’s work.  I never trusted a single character was entirely genuine in Closer.  How should anyone? They’re always stabbing one another in the back. However, when an actor leans in and Nichols meets their expression halfway, I’m being ordered to look that person straight in the eye.  Still, I won’t know what to believe, but that’s the point.  

Dan, Alice, Anna and Larry move the scenes along with question after question because every answer is so dubious.  You’ll likely never get a more skeptical response when a common inquiry such as “Do you love him?” is asked.  It can be frustrating, but thanks to the cat and mouse play of Mike Nichols’ stage direction, on film, I wanted to dig deeper into the bottomless rabbit hole.

You might conclude there is a surprising twist at the end of the film.  I don’t know if it holds much weight to what I learned during the course of the story.  Nevertheless, it reinforces the theme of Closer.  Being bad can be fun, offering an immediate high, and part of being bad is lying and betraying, and maybe the ending reveals who actually won this board game with four players at the table.

Look Closer and tell me what you think.

COLLATERAL

By Marc S. Sanders

A salt and pepper haired gentleman in a knitted suit with sunglasses arrives at LAX before the sun sets.  He exchanges bags with a man he runs into, played by Jason Statham. Elsewhere, a driver does a polish and check on his taxi cab before beginning his evening shift.  He picks up an attractive, overworked attorney named Annie (Jada Pinkett Smith) and before she hands him her business card, the driver has at least convinced the woman to re-examine her life’s purpose and consider simple ways to escape reality.  The man in the suit is Vincent played by Tom Cruise.  The cab driver is Max played by Jamie Foxx.  They are about to collide with one another on this night and put Michael Mann’s film, Collateral, into play.

Following being a massive fan of the TV show Miami Vice, and the films Thief, Heat and The Insider, I remember my anticipation sky rocketing when I saw the trailers and write ups for Collateral.  Mann, Cruise, Foxx, and crime in a cool looking L.A. with a symphonic soundtrack? I’m there!  It seemed like a perfect formula.  When I finally saw the movie, I think I was let down because it was too formulaic following a step-by-step recipe.  The editing for Collateral is abundantly cookie cutter, never taking any risks with its story.

Vincent chats with Max as soon as he gets in the cab.  He offers eleven hundred dollars to occupy Max’ evening, transporting him from one location to the next. Max has dreams of running his own limo company one day and this easy money is too good to resist.  It’s only when Vincent tosses someone out a fourth-floor window to land on the roof of the cab that Max realizes there’s a hitch to this arrangement.  

Vincent is a hitman out to check off a list of targets before sunrise, and he needs Max as a cab escort.  Threats to Max’ ill mother in the hospital will keep the driver in check, and if inconveniences like a shattered windshield draw the cops’ attention then Max will have to abide by Vincent’s demand for no interference with his plans.  

The two hour running time of Collateral is structured on one stop after another.  Mann abides by side scenes from Stuart Beattie’s script to look at the undercover night detective (Mark Ruffalo) who is one step behind the pair’s frequent stops within the city.   I guess it’s fortunate for this guy that ballistics and coroner’s reports are quickly and readily available within minutes and hours to connect some dots.  

In between the kills, Vincent and Max chat in the cab.  Standard stuff really where Tom Cruise is at one time charming and other times sociopathic.  Jamie Foxx is the bright but frightened guy with dialogue that doesn’t amount to much in convincing this unwanted passenger to either let him go free or to give up on his mission.

Ironically, the many scenes shared between Tom Cruise and Jamie Foxx are the least interesting parts of the film.  When the sound editing isn’t failing by making their dialogue sound like incoherent mumbling, neither guy is ever convincing the other to look in a new direction or consider another idea.  Therefore, the conversations never go anywhere.  Look at films like The Silence Of The Lambs, Cape Fear, Seven, and especially Mann’s best picture to date, Heat by comparison.  Those films work when either the antagonist or protagonist allow themselves to consider the arguments, even if it’s just for a second, against the ones they are debating.

There is action and violence in Collateral, but it’s really a talking piece.  Still, the best exchange of dialogue occurs with Foxx and other cast mates besides Cruise.  A great scene occurs when Vincent insists that Max act under the guise that he is Vincent when he has to report to the drug kingpin employer who originally hired him (a surprise welcome from an at the time unknown Javier Bardem); great acting and writing happening here.  The early scene between Jada Pinkett Smith and Jamie Foxx also works at a thought provoking and interesting level.  These scenes are short one act plays that belong elsewhere.  Jamie Foxx is doing some great work in these moments.

Unfortunately, when Foxx and Pinkett Smith reconnect later in the film, they are not written with the same kind of intelligence during a run and hide third act climax.  The suspense is absent here because the setup is ridiculous.  While standing on the top level of a parking garage, Max can easily see Annie in a fourteenth-floor office window, blocks away across the city, and specifically direct her where to run from the dangerous killer who is a few floors below, all while using a dying cell phone.  

More to the point, why is Annie still wearing a suit and heels, with her hair and makeup done up, at four o’clock in the morning? I know an aggressive lawyer never stops working, but don’t they go home, pour a glass of white wine, get into sweats and pop open the laptop while Miles Davis plays softly on the stereo?  How would these guys even know this is where Annie would be at four in the morning? Reader, you might tell me to dismiss what’s merely circumstantial here, and normally I would.  Yet, if I’m an expert hitman like Vincent is supposed to be, my first instinct is to go to Annie’s home first before the office in the middle of the night.  It’s the circumstances that negate the believability of the main character.  

As expected, Los Angeles looks moody and cool like in any other Michael Mann picture.  He’s got blazing overhead shots that emit a white glow in the thick of night.  The wolf is holding a fang and claw to the neck of the sheep as they careen through this endless city maze.  In that respect, the environment of this film works like a great character game master. What turn or straight avenue or bridge is going to work in either saving Max or getting him killed?

The technique of this filmmaker, who I usually favor, is here.  It’s been seen many times before for the other sharp, well-dressed killers in Michael Mann’s worlds. I welcome it back, but it’s not new or inventive in Collateral.  I guess that’s why the film is ordinary.  It lacks the depth that other productions from Mann rely upon.  The setups are quite amateurish and most of the talking is wholly uninteresting.

In spite of a phenomenal and reputable cast and crew, it’s a shame this Michael Mann installment is only ho hum in its finished product.  Collateral needed another script rewrite, followed by some additional reshoots.  There was a better movie to made here. 

PUMP UP THE VOLUME

By Marc S. Sanders

Travis Bickle, the character portrayed by Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver, is arguably one of the most famous lonely men in film.  There have been other iterations of the sad, angry and depressed individual that just can’t speak to anyone and vents his frustrations only to his consciousness that an audience is meant to hear while watching a movie.  An isolated guy that stands out to me is a radio DJ known as Happy Harry Hard-On played Christian Slater in Pump Up The Volume, a sleeper hit on early 90s videotape.

Harry is a lonely, quiet high school student by day who goes by his real name of Mark Hunter.  No one takes notice of him because he doesn’t socialize, and he hardly speaks.  He just keeps to himself.  Only an English teacher impressed with his writing and another student named Nora Diniro (perhaps a salute to Robert?) played by Samantha Mathis catch his eye.  Mark’s parents really don’t even take much notice of him, other than to believe that Mark has problems adjusting.  It’s much deeper than that, as the poor kid adopts his alter ego on a pirate radio station which reaches the neighboring homes around the school. 

Pretty soon most of the student body is listening and relating to Mark’s diatribes of loneliness, depression, and the school administration’s efforts to doctor passing grades and average GPAs to enhance its image within the state of Arizona.  The school proudly boasts of a program to help troubled kids too, but Mark as well as the other kids fail to see any legitimacy in that approach.  All of it is a sham. 

The efforts behind this ongoing fraud are being committed by the tyrannical Principal Cresswood (Annie Ross).  However, Mark has access to confidential records thanks to his father who now works for the school.   Drawing no attention to himself, he can uncover some students who were expelled just for having poor grades despite having no violations.  One student was dismissed under dubious circumstances when it was discovered that she was pregnant. 

Hard Harry’s radio show airs each night at 10pm where such secrets are revealed along with some of the most perverted and filthy material imaginable interspersed with the grunge/punk music of the time (Concrete Blonde, Ice-T, Pixies, Sonic Youth).  Before podcasts and the internet, there was pirate radio in a kid’s basement. Hard Harry vents his frustrations about not speaking with anyone all day or how difficult it is for him to approach a girl.  The student body empathizes even though they can’t identify this mysterious voice of airwaves.

Pump Up The Volume never made a huge impact at the box office, but my high school pals and I caught it anyway in movie theatres.  It spoke to us.  It was much more relatable than Taxi Driver because it was modern, and it was set in an environment that we were similarly living through.  Everything that Mark/Hard Harry had to say I could understand.  I felt his anguish.  Writer/Director Allan Moyle goes for an early surprise when one listener sends in a letter saying he wants to kill himself.  Wisely, Moyle doesn’t go for the standard call where the DJ talks the kid out of it.  Mark isn’t mature or intuitive enough yet to be an effective “fast-food therapist.”  Instead, Hard Harry makes the initial mistake of not taking the letter writer seriously.  The aftermath amplifies the pirate DJ’s presence, and then the debate of his servitude comes into question.  Mark can no longer toss this personality aside.  He’s making a difference, whether some believe it is good or bad and now, with Nora’s encouragement, he must continue his crusade, even if he’s not sure what that is.

Pump Up The Volume was released in 1990 before the Columbine shootings and waves of other school violence that’s occurred since.  It was around before social media.  Though it is hardly spoken of anymore, perhaps because it lives only in the time of its original release, the context of the film speaks more openly than most of John Hughes’ films.  A variety of different students reveal the pain they are suffering, from the genius student who only appears to have it all together in the brains and beauty department to the punk kid who was unfairly expelled to even the silly kids who just want to prank Harry while he’s on the air, and the kid who was cruelly tricked into coming out.  The stress and suffering of what students endure still exists and it is perhaps more visible now due to how much further some students publicly act on their frustrations.  In that respect, Allan Moyle’s film is not outdated.  It might not be pirate radio anymore, but similar content that Harry incorporates in his nightly show continues to be seen in podcasts, Instagram and Tik Tok posts. Public actions are now performed on campuses – such as protest marches, rallies, voicing sexual interests or regrettably school violence, and suicide.

Christian Slater is perfect in this role, maybe one of his best, next to the misfit he would later play in True Romance.  Slater has a Jack Nicholson personality. He’s great with the on-air smarmy comments and adoption of his own routines such as “pleasuring himself on the air with a cock ring.”    He’s not literally doing any of this, but he keeps his listeners’ attention, the same as shock jocks like Howard Stern.  Turns out Mark doesn’t even know what a cock ring is, but everyone is curious, nonetheless.  He makes Hard Harry confrontational, as well as regrettable, when Mark feels things are going out of control.  Another angle is the quiet student that Slater is by day wearing large glass frames and keeping his head down while subtly checking out the writings of Lenny Bruce from the school library.  Slater does well with the multi-faceted character, and I couldn’t envision other actors of his brat pack age in the role.

Samantha Mathis is also sensational, a real surprise.  This was her debut screen performance.  She has the appearance of a 1990’s Winona Ryder, but she exudes complete confidence as Nora, the girl who seems to know everyone at school and what they are involved in.  Moyle writes smart, and sometimes poetic, dialogue for her character. She delivers with a personality of being seduced or moreover being the seductress.  Mathis has great chemistry with Slater. She works very well at breaking down Mark’s outer shell while encouraging him to carry on with what he has started.

Pump Up The Volume enters a third act that becomes a chase scene of sorts when the FCC is called in to find Hard Harry.  The film ends abruptly because I think Hard Harry may have run out of things to talk about.  However, I walk away from the film having seen a hero in a pirate DJ, who brought the wrongs of an administrative body to light. More importantly, he allowed attention to focus on the trials that high school youth encounter.

You’ll feel good after watching Pump Up The Volume, and you’ll understand when Harry tells you to “Talk Hard!”

THE COST

By Ronnie Clements from Screen Gems – A Guest Review

Screen Gems checks out The Cost (2023) …

Introductory note …

I approach an assessment of The Cost (2023) with a significant amount of “baggage” (so to speak). Firstly, director and co-writer, Matthew Holmes and co-writer, Gregory Moss are very good FaceBook friends of mine. Secondly, I’m not overly into Australian films. My Cinema Studies concentrated on American films and most of my all time favourites are American ones. Thirdly and most significantly, as a true crime buff, I do often watch revenge thrillers and by default root for those exacting the revenge no matter what. However, I take writing reviews very seriously so I will off-load my “baggage” and appraise The Cost with a completely “cold eye”.

Review …

The revenge thriller is alive and well! We should be thankful and rejoice!

The sub-genre of the revenge thriller is an interesting one. It is very commonly tackled by American filmmakers but not so often by Australian ones. Of course the many American ones I have seen (1974’s Death Wish, 1982’s Class of 84, etc.) tend to be very “manipulative” and “framed” in such a way that we are consistently on the side of those in the business of getting even. This is where The Cost makes the sub-genre entirely its own!

Two regular guys abduct a crim who was given early release from jail for a rape and murder many years before. The husband and brother of the victim are intent on dispensing their own brutal form of justice. However, director Matthew Holmes (by way of the script which he co-wrote with Gregory Moss) does not make it easy for us to firmly and consistently root for any one character. We are constantly shifting our allegiances between the perpetrator of the sickening crime and the revenge seekers. This not only makes The Cost different. It makes it riveting! It makes it unforgettable! It makes it superb!

The setup for the film is quickly and clearly established at the very beginning with obligatory flashbacks and slick editing. We are introduced to the three principal characters who will carry us through a very emotional journey as two of them dole out their own payback: the husband, David (Jordan Fraser-Trumble), the brother, Aaron (Damon Hunter), the perpetrator, Troy (Kevin Dee). Then there is “the intruder”, Brian (Clayton Watson) who comes into the story later and enriches the narrative as it goes in different and unexpected directions.

Of course a film with a small number of main characters lives or dies on the strength of the acting performances and in The Cost the performances are stellar. Fraser-Trumble, Hunter, Dee and Watson are equally engaging in their disparate roles and adequately capture the “development” of their characters as the tale unfolds. It needs to be mentioned that all the supporting cast are great too, not one bum performance in the piece.

Overall The Cost is a breath of fresh air in the revenge thriller sub-genre because we are often shifting our allegiances from one character to the other and sometimes even feeling for the crim. We are never being “manipulated”, we are in control. And interestingly enough, The Cost’s violence is relatively restrained too. There is not the over-the-top blood letting as there is in so many American, European and Asian revenge films. There is a particular scene where the violence could have been horrific, but the clever script does not allow that: what we don’t see happen is as effective as what we could have seen happen!

Beautifully lit and shot with a script that is crisp to the core (not one line of dialogue is wasted), The Cost is an important Australian film that is highly recommended. It will definitely have you thinking long after the credits have rolled.

On balance if I had one “issue” with the film, it would be the ending. It is perhaps not quite as “dramatic” as I would have preferred but, to be fair, it still works. We are certainly left with questions and the ending, as it is, makes way for a sequel. I’d certainly love to see that!

So … I will finish as I began: The revenge thriller is alive and well! We should be thankful and rejoice!

I am and I do!

Trailer …

May be an image of 13 people and text that says 'O DELIVER THE COST'

All reactions:

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THE MULE

By Marc S. Sanders

Earl Stone (Clint Eastwood) was once considered one of the best horticulturalists in the country.  In fact, he devoted more of his time to raising the most unique flowers and plants that anyone could find than he ever did to his wife, Mary (Dianne Weist) or his daughter, Iris (Alison Eastwood).  He even missed Iris’ wedding, to attend an award reception in his honor.  At age 90, though, Earl is quickly forgotten by his ardent fans thanks to the ease of ordering horticultural specimens off the internet.  There’s no longer value in meeting the maker.  Just as Earl never took account for his family like he did with his beloved occupation.

Clint Eastwood portrays Earl Stone in The Mule, which he also produced and directed.  Written by the Nick Schenk, this film is one of Eastwood’s best directing efforts.  It is inspired by a real life story where the forced to retire horticulturalist finds himself working as a drug mule for the Mexican cartel.  Earl is corralled into making easy money by driving a duffel bag across country.   At the destination, he leaves his truck and returns shortly thereafter to find large amounts of cash in his glove compartment for his trek.  

Earl is so naive to all this activity though that he doesn’t even know how to use the various cell phones the dealers give him for each new journey.  It’s only on the third drive that he opens the bag to find kilos of cocaine.  

Earl is a perfect front for the cartel.  The Don (Andy Garcia) sees the value of this camouflage.  Who’d ever suspect a frail ninety year old Korean War veteran, who’s never gotten a traffic ticket, of doing their bidding? Certainly, the sharp witted FBI agents (Bradley Cooper, Michael Peña) could only get as close as determining this mule is driving a black pickup truck.  Beyond that they are at a loss, despite the leeway and patience awarded to them by their superior (Laurence Fishburn).

This film boasts an outstanding cast from all four corners of its various stories.

The Mule works so well because of Eastwood, the filmmaker.  He offers thrilling overhead highway shots (with no car chases) of Earl’s pickup truck running parallel to a helicopter as well as how the cartel escorts follow behind.  There’s humor in how impatient they get with the old codger by how slow he drives and the old time music he listens and sings along to.  Wait until you see two tough armed Mexican cartel members relent to singing along to Dean Martin.  Eastwood cuts and stages these hilarious moments that are most welcome, even if they had no business being in a story like this.

Clint Eastwood’s performance is really shining through.  You recognize his signature scowl and his heightened walk despite his frail physicality.  The Earl Stone character is so well drawn and Eastwood, as director and especially actor, answers every demand of the script sharing celebrated scenes with Andy Garcia who treasures his prize mule and gifts him a couple of women to make him feel comfortable.  Other moments allow wonderful exchanges between him and Dianne Weist as Mary, Earl’s estranged and very ill ex-wife.

The Mule is a crime picture, sometimes lighthearted and on occasion heavily serious.  Yet, it’s also a well-drawn out family drama.  Earl is grateful for the rewards that come with being a drug mule.  He’s generous to his friends.  He modestly treats himself.  He lends attention to his adult and loving granddaughter (Taissa Farmiga).  He accepts Iris’ disregard for him.  Yet, none of these gestures buy back or exchange any time he’s lost with the family he never got to know.

The film plays like two different movies until finally a sacrifice must be made to appease one part of Earl’s life versus the other.  I almost wished for everything new that came upon Earl in his late life to remain on that trajectory.  Yet, like the best stories, interference will eventually get in the way.  It’s that much more crushing when Earl’s new pattern is upended.  Still, that’s what makes for good drama.

I highly recommend seeking out Clint Eastwood’s The Mule. It surprised me in the best ways possible.  I did not expect to be so impressed.  Eastwood continues to be an inspiration with the persistent longevity of his talents as an actor, a screen legend, and a gifted filmmaker.  The Mule shows he’s as sharp as he ever was before in some of the best films of his decades long career. 

SIXTEEN CANDLES

By Marc S. Sanders

John Hughes became a pop culture pioneer of the 1980s when he directed his first film, Sixteen Candles. The movie adopted a slapstick approach to teen anxiety related to love, cliques and high school popularity. Had Hughes waited much longer, it’s fair to say the picture may not have ever gotten produced. In a current age of political correctness and “Me Too” movements, Sixteen Candles is more shocking than originally intended.

There is no way this film would be made with a character like Long Duk Dung as a run-on gag Chinese foreign exchange student with a stereotypical Asian accent of mispronunciations, presumptions of mental retardation, and an accompanying “GONG” each time the film circles back to him. It is fair to say this is equivalent to when Buckwheat would wipe the sweat off his brow against a nearby wall and it would appear as ink stains in a random Our Gang/Little Rascals film. Actor Gedde Wantanabe who plays Dong has gone on record saying he was vilified for the role since the release of the film. Likely he was also quite embarrassed. I wouldn’t blame him.

Date rape is also a common element of the film. Dong is implied to be a victim by a butch high school girl. In another storyline the hot guy Jake Ryan (Michael Schoeffling), who drives a cherry red Porche, implies to the geek, Farmer Ted (Anthony Michael Hall), an offer to have his way with Jake’s intoxicated girlfriend. Freshman nerd Ted takes as much advantage of the opportunity as he can by taking photographs with the girl and then even forgetting what exactly occurred the next morning but making hopeful assumptions nevertheless, simply to bolster his reputation.

I don’t draw attention to these tropes to celebrate and guffaw though. The film continues to have a staying power with Hughes’ name labeled on the picture as well its recognition for making Molly Ringwald an ongoing cover photo for Teen Beat and Rolling Stone magazines during the MTV Generation.

Perhaps John Hughes had no idea at the time that his material would carry a shock element beyond plain silliness. I’m almost convinced of that. It’s fair to say Sixteen Candles is a byproduct of the raunchiness delivered by Animal House. I’m content with that because it is very, very funny in spite of the offending and inappropriate material.

Molly Ringwald is Samantha who is beside herself when everyone has forgotten her sixteenth birthday while gorgeous Jake seemingly doesn’t even know she exists. The family’s focus is drawn to her older sister’s upcoming nuptials the next day. It’s a lot to deal with for a high school sophomore. Ringwald embraces the frustration nicely as she doesn’t try for the comedy but often becomes the embarrassing victim of Hughes’ set ups: invasively touchy grandparents, Long Duk Dong, Farmer Ted’s obsession with her, and even giving up her underpants as a special favor. Samantha is the straight character among all the clowns in the cast, including her jerky younger brother played by Oscar nominee Justin Henry (Kramer vs Kramer). Paul Dooley, known for a career as a notable schlub, offers a nice scene or two with Ringwald as her father. John Hughes allowed himself to demonstrate how much he respects the characters he’s invented even if he spent the first two thirds of the picture humiliating them.

The transitional arc of the script almost parallels Hughes’ method of writing in his career. The comedy is sketched primarily in broad strokes. I said earlier it is rife with prejudiced humor, raunch and slapstick. That is until the end arrives with a mature, candle lit first kiss over a birthday cake accompanied by the sweet, soft melodies of the Thompson Twins. It’s adoring, sensitive, and Hughes closes the book on Sixteen Candles with the love and care he awarded most of his characters during his filmography. In one film, John Hughes approaches a level of maturity by the time the story’s end arrives.

The tenderness Hughes shows in the concluding scene of Sixteen Candles would become more evidently special in his later films like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Pretty In Pink, (not directed, only written by him), The Breakfast Club, and Planes, Trains & Automobiles.

John Hughes’ legacy is unmatched. Sixteen Candles is proof of that, and though some today would be dismissive of its ingredients, it remains a defining film of what the 1980s provided, culturally. If you grew up during the decade of excess or likely the grunge of the ‘90s, chances are you attended a sleepover with friends watching Molly Ringwald as the lovestruck, but crushed Samantha. She had to survive the most awful night of high school, coincidentally occurring on the day of her sweet sixteen, while making wonderful memories of laughter, tears, love and bonding.

NOTE: I waited to post this review for over two years until the eve of my daughter Julia’s 16th birthday. Happy Birthday Jules. I didn’t fucking forget your birthday!

ELEMENTAL

By Marc S. Sanders

Ember and Wade are perfect for one another.  They truly belong together.  Yet, science dictates that they have zero chemistry.

Ember is a figure of fire.  Wade is a bubbling, joyful standing puddle of water.  They reside in Element City along with people of earth and air, respectively.  Pixar with Disney Studios, has transitioned from emoting human feelings in lovably figurative toys, monsters, cars and colorful emotions to the primary elements of our planet.  Hence the title Elemental.  It’s a blessing that the storylines and messages of this digitally animated feature are a winning combination.

Ember (Leah Lewis) is the daughter of her fire immigrant parents, Bernie and Cinder (Ronnie Del Carmen, Shila Omni).  She loves to work with her dad in his mercantile shop that he built from nothing, known as The Fireplace.  She’s hardworking and dedicated, but she can suffer from a short temper that turns her firebrand orange disposition into a raging purple. Suddenly, she’s charred the shop interior and maybe some of the customers.  

Wade (Mamoudo Athie) is a water made building inspector who by unexpected circumstance comes upon the aftermath of a temper tantrum from Ember.  He works as a building inspector for the city and simply by doing his job he cites enough offenses with The Fireplace that could shut down the shop for good.  Now Ember must work with Wade to avoid that from happening, including haphazard water leaks that are stemming from a mysterious source within the city.

Elemental works because while it bursts with magnificent color, it has a story to tell in a brilliantly inventive and functional environment, much like the Monster World in Monsters, Inc. Pixar does not just stop at the marvelous animation. Their products continue working even beyond their well planned stories and conflicted characters.

With this film, the immigrant crisis that is a prevalent problem in the real world is addressed, but simplified for all ages to comprehend.  Fire based citizens, inspired by Asian/Eastern cultures, are typically restricted to only fraternizing within their area of the city, among only their demographic.  They are regarded as harmful and unsafe from the other three elements.

On the other hand, people of water, air and earth live in harmony.  Director Peter Sohn, with a highly informative script from John Hoberg, Kat Likkel and Brenda Hsueh, is consistent with this reflection.  Water, air and earth make up the first three iterations of Element City.  Fire gets no recognition.  Fire was not invented by a higher power.  It had to be discovered.  Therefore, they are sadly treated as a minority.  The film doesn’t go so extreme as segregating the fire community to literal internment camps, but the feeling of isolation seems quite authentic.  

Yet, fire serves an important purpose. Bernie might envision his daughter taking over the business as he is getting older and slower.  Still, with Wade’s help Ember is realizing that she has talents that will make her happier and more fulfilled.  She’s a natural at honing glass sculptures with merits in practicality and art.

At the same time Wade and Ember are becoming friends and maybe there is something more going on in their newfound relationship.  Problem is they dare not make contact with one another.  What would actually happen if fire and water mixed?  Bernie and Cinder would never approve of this relationship either.  As well, poor Wade and Ember may be frowned upon with prejudice if seen in public together.  

My colleague Miguel reminded me that Elemental gets 98% of its science accurate.   I definitely appreciate that.  However, I’m also grateful for the remaining 2% left for my suspension of disbelief that is quelled by insightful imagination.  Ember and Wade are such wonderful characters that they deserve the happiness they long for.  As I watched, I longed for their destinies to outlast the seemingly impossible.

This is a special film from the Pixar factory.  Elemental demonstrates that nothing should limit what any us of yearn for.  No shortsighted policy of any kind should bar us from our pleasures.  There’s a way for anything to work together.  It only takes some thought.  So you know what I say as I root for Ember and Wade?  SCIENCE/SCHMIENCE!!!!

A HAUNTING IN VENICE

By Marc S. Sanders

There’s A Haunting In Venice and Hercule Poirot is on the case.  

Kenneth Branagh returns for a third time as Agatha Christie’s famed literary detective.  He also serves in the director’s chair again, and this is his best installment in the updated franchise.

The man with the exaggerated mustache is living in Venice, Italy, with the assurance of a bodyguard (Fernando Piloni) to fend off any pestering folk needing their own personal conundrums resolved.  Poirot is not interested to assist.  

On All Hallow’s Eve, he is invited to be a tag along with his American mystery novelist friend Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey) at Rowena Drake’s home. A celebrity Medium known as Mrs. Reynolds is to appear and perform a seance. My first impression of Fey’s character is a loose interpretation of Dame Agatha come to life to partner up with Hercule.  She’s sort of a wink and nod to the author’s fan base.  What if Agatha and Hercule actually worked together?  This is as close as you’ll get.  Branagh and Fey work so well together.

Poirot reluctantly agrees to accept Ariadne’s invitation.  Upon arrival at the affair, the best feature of the film is introduced.  Rowena’s home is a foreboding dwelling alongside the Venetian River, and this Hallowe’en evening is turning into a dark and stormy night.  A children’s costume party is wrapping up complete with creepy puppetry, ghost story telling and apple bobbing.  Then it is time to welcome the arrival of a figure dressed in black wearing a pearl white Kabuki mask.  The children have left, and the eventual suspects of a murder mystery are all that remain in the house when the seance begins.  Mrs. Reynolds will use her talent to communicate with Rowena’s daughter who passed away a year earlier following a fall off the rooftop and into the murky river below.  

Poirot is the most skeptical of the guests as he staunchly believes only in logic, not the supernatural.  Ariadne insists that he will be amazed at the unexplainable talent at play. A well timed falling chandelier and a typewriter that seems to answer the Medium’s questions are not convincing enough for him.  

Eventually, a gruesome and shocking murder occurs.  Like most formula mysteries, everyone appears to have an alibi.  Yet, Poirot refuses to believe this crime took place by means of a supernatural element.  Even if there are unexplained noises within the home and the appearance of Rowena’s daughter turn up, there must be a more logical resolution.  

A Haunting In Venice works especially well thanks to the atmosphere of its setting.  The multi-floored and darkened home lend to the eeriness necessary for a spooky story focusing on death.  The faucet of a sink doesn’t work.  The innocence of apples takes on a nervous feeling.  Lanterns allow shadows to float within the darkness while the lightning flashes and the thunder pounds outside with choppy waters in the river. This haunted place where a young girl recently died is not somewhere I want to stay overnight.  

One suspect that especially stands out is Leopold (Jude Hill), a preteen boy with a fondness for the macabre works of Edgar Allen Poe.  Poirot suggests he turn towards Dickens.  Leopold seems much wiser than his years, as he tends to and speaks on behalf of his unwell father, Dr. Leslie Ferrier (Jamie Dornan).  

Michelle Yeoh turns in another memorable performance permitting the strangeness of her Medium character, Mrs. Reynolds, to elevate suspense.  Poirot can choose to be doubtful.  Nevertheless, I’m convinced Mrs. Reynolds can speak to the actual dead.  

A Haunting In Venice has murder on its mind and the sudden death of one of the characters is horrifying.  I dare not spoil how it transpires.  Thankfully, this tale returns to an approach that so many classic films adopted.  You don’t need pools of blood and guts to get the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up.  It’s clear that with the approval from Agatha Christie’s estate, Branagh is well researched in what the author wanted to accomplish.  

The screenplay from Michael Green lends wonderful color to the characters, as Poirot interviews each person.  All of the performers are engaging.  This collection of actors especially works because unlike the other two Branagh films, this installment does not rely so much on stunt casting with recognizable marquee names.  For me, the who done it resolution was more challenging to solve because the actors portraying the assortment of suspects were deliberately vague, airing a sense of distrust in any one of them.  

This is a fireplace story to curl up with under a blanket and a cup of hot cider on a brisk Autumn night. The best compliment I can give A Haunting In Venice is that it’s a never-ending page turner.