Category: Marc’s Reviews

TRADING PLACES

By Marc S. Sanders

Dan Aykroyd and Eddie Murphy are the unaware invitees of a Prince And The Pauper R-rated, yet whimsical, scenario in John Landis’ Trading Places.  They are one of the best on screen pairings in film, and this is one of the best comedies to come out of the 1980s.

Randolph and Mortimer Duke (Ralph Bellamy, Don Ameche – another brilliant on-screen duo) are the filthy rich misers who live to make more and more money and use their wealth to cheat and make even more monies or to perhaps use those that are at their behest to test certain social experiments.  Namely, Randoph believes that regardless of a man’s environmental upbringing, anyone can become a success based on their merits.  Mortimer believes otherwise.  It’s in the blood, he claims.  Who you spawn from is how you are destined to become.  To settle this debate, they make a modest bet of switching out their protégé investment representative, Louis Winthorpe (Aykroyd), with homeless bum/con artist Billy Ray Valentine (Murphy).  Deplete Louis of all his possessions and wealth along with his sparkling reputation, his lovely fiancée, his friends and even his faithful butler, Coleman (Denholm Elliot).  At the same time, establish Billy Ray as an up and comer in the WASP Hoi Polloi and award him all of Louis’ assets, along with assistance from Coleman.  Then they will see what shakes out and who wins the bet.  A plot like this was staged in a few Three Stooges shorts during a post Great Depression phase.

The premise for Trading Places allows for a lot of gags that consistently serve the story set mostly in Philadelphia around Christmas and New Year’s.  The holidays lend an atmosphere to the picture.  The brutal cold seems to only make it downright worse for poor Louis, the suddenly accused drug dealer and petty thief.  It only looks worse for him when he’s dressed in a dirty Santa Claus suit and getting peed on by a dog just before the cold rain arrives.  For Billy Ray, the warm comforts of Louis’ home seem like a welcome respite from the chilly, damp streets he likely has slept upon night after night.  If not on the street, then in a jail cell. 

The characterizations are perfect.  I get a kick of Dan Aykroyd’s performance of Louis, the contemptible snob with not one hair out of place and the arrogant tone of his line delivery.  Eddie Murphy is basically doing his routine from all of his early work like Saturday Night Live and 48 Hrs or Beverly Hills Cop.  Yet, I have no complaints.  He’s just funny as hell and the dialogue lends to his basic schtick.  This is the Eddie Murphy I miss from most of his modern film releases.  Denholm Elliott is great at often breaking his regal character to refer to someone as a scumbag.  Bellamy and Ameche are equivalent to wicked stepsisters from a fantasy story.  They are scheming and dreadful with glee.  Paul Gleeson is that “seen that guy somewhere before” henchman working in line with the Dukes.  He’s a great jerk who gets Louis and Billy Ray into their unexpected predicament.  Jamie Lee Curtis is unforgettable as a hooker with a heart of gold, convinced to help out a poor down on his luck Louis when there’s nothing else available to his assist.  She portrays Ophelia whose got the street smarts and sometimes the Judy Holliday squeak in her voice to lend to the spoof comedy this film relies upon.  It’s hard to believe this is the same actor who was a scream queen in a couple of slasher flicks a few years before this film’s release. Never a glamourous actor, but Jamie Lee Curtis has such an amazing range that still surprises in newer films of today (see her Oscar winning performance in Everything, Everywhere, All At Once).

The imagination into this film’s story has to be admired.  When Louis and Billy Ray become aware of the ruse pulled against them, it’s suggested not to kill the villains in cold blood. Rather do unto them what they already committed. Thus, a wonderfully energetic third act is welcomed on the floor of the New York Commodities Exchange that hinges on insider trading and realistic mass hysteria for a silly, yet highly valuable commodity such as Frozen Concentrated Orange Juice.

John Landis incorporates so many side gags into Trading Places.  Imagine Billy Ray intruding upon the wealthy’s exclusive club of snobs and you get a memorable caption of ten police officers pointing their guns in his face.  Poor Louis being subjected to a strip search conducted by nerdy Frank Oz.  Randoph and Mortimer explaining how commodities trading functions to Billy Ray thereby inviting Eddie Murphy to break the fourth wall for a moment.  Even one of my favorite actors of today, Giancarlo Esposito, makes a blink and miss it appearance as Billy Ray tells a tall tale of how he got arrested after using the “Quart of Blood Technique” on ten cops at one time while two hilarious jail cell thugs listen in to his BS.  A train ride to set the victims’ plot of revenge in motion is great involving silly disguises, a New Year’s Eve costume party attended by James Belushi, and a live gorilla.  Even Bo Diddley gets a scene with Louis trying to sell his expensive wristwatch while wearing the ugliest sports jacket and tie combination.

I yearn for another comedy that reunites Aykroyd and Murphy.  We were treated to a little sampling of Bellamy and Ameche in Murphy’s later film, Coming To America.  Oh, how I wish those guys could have capitalized on that small scene.  They pair just as well as Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau did. 

Trading Places is always a perfect holiday movie to watch in December.  It’s funny, charming, and very smart.  It remains one of the best comedies ever offered by any of the cast members listed in this film.

Looking good Billy Ray!

Feeling good Louis!

LEAVE THE WORLD BEHIND

By Marc S. Sanders

Anxiety and the unknown are the themes of Sam Esmail’s apocalyptic Leave the World Behind.  Actually, I can’t even be sure it’s apocalyptic or not until the end arrives.  Even then I wasn’t so sure.  

A family (Julia Roberts, Ethan Hawke as the parents, Farrah Mackenzie, Charlie Evans as the kids) make an impromptu getaway from New York City and rent a luxurious upstate air B & B for the next five days.  Upon arrival they are quickly relaxed amid all the amenities and beautiful outdoor pool.  A visit to the beach is refreshing until an oil tanker arrives from the deep ocean waters and drifts upon the shore with no warning.  Strange, but okay.  No need for that to ruin the vacation.

Then other unexpected occurrences happen.  A charming gentleman dressed handsomely in a tuxedo and his formally dressed daughter appear on the doorstep of the home in the middle of the night.  They are played very well by Mahershala Ali and Myha’la.  The man claims that he’s the owner of the house and while attending a concert in the city, they needed to make a quick exit and the best place to hold up was at this house.  Conveniently, he does not have any ID to prove his identity along with no specific personal items in this home he claims to own, not even the title ownership papers.  No photos of family tucked away anywhere.  He does have a key to the liquor cabinet, however.

Quickly, the scene is set where the internet goes down.  Federal blue screen warnings appear on every television channel.  Cell phones don’t work.  Deer, lots and lots of deer, appear in the backyard and then disappear.  Pink flamingos wade in the pool.  Elon Musk’s white Tesla cars have a stand out scene.  Roberts then recalls seeing a grizzled Kevin Bacon collecting an abundance of supplies when she made an earlier shopping trip in the local town.  

The paranoia starts to set in beginning with Julia Roberts’ character Amanda.  Amanda declares early on that she fucking hates people.  Hawke’s husband character, Clay, is not ready to hit any panic button and is happy to accommodate the strangers on the doorstep and just wait for the internet to be restored with a logical explanation.  Ali’s character, known as G.H., lends a welcome smile but it’s clear he’s not sharing all that he’s thinking or maybe what he knows.  

Sam Esmail’s film wants to provide a demonstration of how people respond when they don’t know all that’s going on, particularly when modern technology fails us.  A more relatable inconvenience is suggested as Mackenzie’s character Rose is frustrated that her streaming channel shut down just as she was starting to watch the final episode of the sitcom, Friends.  I felt her anguish immediately as my daughter consumes the trials and tribulations of Ross and Rachel on a repetitive cycle.  Ironically, streaming goes down and now the girl can’t watch Friends.  Netflix is the distributor of this film.  Yet, I think they just gave a ringing endorsement for a dying medium.  If only this girl collected the DVDs.  

My problem with Leave the World Behind is the slow pace of it all.  This is one of those movies where its triumphs hinge upon the final five minutes or so.  Either you applaud what sums up the last two and a half hours you invested, or you roll your eyes at where the picture drops you off with the urge to throw your popcorn at the screen.  

Watching Leave the World Behind brought back experiences of shows like Lost or The Walking Dead.  The set ups are brilliantly intriguing from one development to another.  The follow through on each new happening amounts to nothing or at least not anything where I can suspend my disbelief.  Questions are answered with questions.  It’s like calling an insurance company for information following a car accident.  You just want to slam the phone down.

When Ali’s character chooses to check on a neighbor, he sees a watch embedded in the sand nearby.  He picks it up only to get a fright that makes us jump.  The viewer sees nothing else and we are led to believe that Ali sees nothing else, until Esmail goes to a wide overhead shot showing the massive wreckage of a commercial airplane crash, complete with black smoke and flames and endless amounts of luggage and debris.  It’s hard for me to buy a scene like this.  G.H. doesn’t smell any burning fire nearby?  He doesn’t hear anything? He doesn’t see any other debris left mere inches away from the wristwatch only until Esmail’s direction goes from closeup to wide?  I cannot accept the character’s tunnel vision.  My eyes would go towards the crashed plane before I’d ever discover a wristwatch.  It’s just eerily quiet.  The director’s manipulation is a set up shock for me, the viewer, to grab my attention.  Yet, it backfires because it’s completely implausible.  There are many moments like this in the film.

Other than Marhershala Ali (who I still insist should be considered a viable candidate for the next James Bond or a 007 adversary), the rest of the cast is not dynamic enough.  Julia Roberts is working a little too hard.  Ethan Hawke is not working hard enough.  The dialogue is often boring arriving at no conclusions.  Thankfully, most scenes are enhanced by unusual camera angles from Esmail’s artistic freedoms with his lens.  It’s reminiscent of the deliberately weird structure that Stanley Kubrick often did with The Shining.  Nevertheless, it’s exhausting after a while.

Sam Esmail’s work is no doubt shown through long ponderous imagination.  I certainly felt Julia Roberts’ frustration on display, but still, I got the point.  I see no reason to repeat the same lines at higher volume.  I got the point of a lack of trust between the two parties being brought together.  However, I just got tired of the act.  The racial elephant in the room is even suggested.  Though I wish it wasn’t. People quickly forget that George Romero’s Night Of The Living Dead steered clear of any racial factor, and just look at the legacy of that film from the era of the Civil Rights Movement.

The ending that arrives seems inevitable.  Without revealing anything literal, it is doom and gloom.  However, I might have had more appreciation if suddenly the TV and internet got restored and these odd occurrences all just happened to be one big nothing.  At the very least, then I’d understand that this whole freaking planet would just go nuts without their You Tube, Instagram and Netflix.  

You might have had a conversation at one point in the last decade or so that began as “How did we ever manage to survive before the internet?”  The truth is we did just fine.  The adults in Leave the World Behind never stop to remember that though. 

MAY DECEMBER

By Marc S. Sanders

A blaring piece of pounding piano music from Marcelo Zarvos hearkens awake the silent opening few seconds of Todd Haynes’ May December against that of a caterpillar/butterfly terrarium.  I don’t like the music and I’m immediately reaching for the volume control on my remote.  It’s only as the film progresses, however, that I develop a grateful appreciation for the often-disruptive soundtrack.

Julianne Moore and Charles Melton are Gracie and Joe Yoo, the relationship referenced in the film’s title.  Twenty years prior, Gracie, at age 36 who already had children and a husband of her own, had an affair with Joseph, a 13-year-old seventh grader at the time, in the storage area of a Savannah GA pet shop where they worked together.  Gracie went to prison for the crime of statutory rape and delivered their baby while serving her sentence.  Once her term was finished, the two continued their relationship and got married, bearing a set of twins, a boy and girl.

As the twins are approaching graduation, a television actress named Elizabeth (Natalie Portman) has arrived in town to do observational research and interviews to prepare for her portrayal of Gracie in a made for TV account of what occurred.  On the surface, all seems calm with the past put behind everyone.  Townsfolk will say that Gracie and Joe are so appreciated and loved in the community, and they love each other.  However, the script from Samy Burch will reveal otherwise as Elizabeth develops different kinds of connections with Gracie and Joe, respectively, as well as others she speaks with in town, including Gracie’s attorney, her ex-husband, the pet shop owner, and Gracie’s now adult son from her first marriage.  His name is Georgie (Cory Michael Smith) who was close friends with Joe until the affair was revealed, and now let’s everything hang out avoiding any kind of subtlety.  He’s even candid about what he believes occurred in Gracie’s childhood that could have dictated why she committed her act.

Todd Haynes’ picture is a complete character study of a story that many would regard as sordid or seedy trash material to talk about over dinner with friends.  People like Gracie and Joe may seem real to any of us who live in another part of the country.  We will never have any kind of relationship with them.  They are meant for cover stories in People magazine and The Inquirer.  It’s soap opera junk or trashy romance novels brought to reality.  It’s easy to judge the kind of person Gracie in particular is because what she has done is wrong and disturbing.  All these years later and they are still receiving packages on their doorstep that contain feces.  Gracie committed a terrible crime, but what does an act like this say about someone who would go to that length, so many years later? 

The performances in this film are astounding.  Charles Melton especially.  Samy Burch writes a disturbing and well-drawn character with Joe.  He’s thirty-six years old now, in 2015 when this story takes place, and as his children are graduating and are about to make their home an empty nest, he seems so much more immature than them.  A telling scene occurs when his son takes out a joint and practically instructs Joe on how to use it.  Joe coughs uncontrollably.  He gets ill, and it is his son who is calming him down.  Gracie also appears to treat Joe like the child she bedded all those years ago, instructing him to straighten up the house and put away his butterfly garden, or not to get into bed because he reeks of the BBQ he used earlier in the day.  Joe lives in an adult body, but he skipped his progressive years to go straight into marriage and fatherhood, and therefore he has not had an opportunity to grow up.

Julianne Moore plays delusional all too convincingly.  She might have confessed guilt to her crime.  She served her time, but as her attorney and Georgie will imply, none of that means anything if she still believes she did nothing so terrible.  She’s now married to Joe, who is now well past legal age and has had a twenty-year relationship with him, as well as the children they share.  Gracie happily accepts her new role as a baker in the community.  Yet, it doesn’t even occur to her that some acquaintances merely place orders just to keep her occupied.  Either Gracie chooses to wear blinders or she’s truly unaware of how she’s considered; still remaining a pariah within her social circle.  It’s devastating when someone cancels a cake order, tells her to keep the money that was paid for the work, but is also told that the cake no longer needs to be baked.  Especially now, as her children from her second marriage are leaving the home for college, she is realizing that she has no worth or value to anyone anymore.  No one even wants to sample her cake any longer.  Part of me wants to say it serves her right, but with Julianne Moore’s performance, it’s also terribly heartbreaking.  There are acts we commit in our lives that we will never, ever recover from.

Natalie Portman adds another accomplished performance to an outstanding resume.  Todd Haynes assists with demonstrating how manipulative and subtle Elizabeth, the starlet actress, is supposed to be.  When she first arrives at the couple’s home for a summer barbecue, Haynes captures Elizabeth with no jewelry on and wearing a hat and sunglasses that she never takes off.  Gracie, Joe and the others come to greet her and offer her a hot dog, but Elizabeth doesn’t reveal herself.  She keeps herself hidden.  She’s begun a camouflage as she initiates her observations.  As the story moves on, we get to see how perhaps a Julliard trained method actor prepares.  She begins to apply her makeup just like Gracie would.  Elizabeth dresses like Gracie.  She wears her hair like Gracie.  Elizabeth duplicates Gracie’s hand gestures captured in news articles.  Most significantly, she develops a bond with Joe, just like Gracie did.  A crumpled-up letter from Gracie that Joe has held on to since they began their affair twenty years ago, is reintroduced later in the film that Elizabeth pounces on.  Todd Haynes captures an unbroken take of Portman reciting the letter in a mirror and it’s an eye-opening moment for the character.  Suddenly, I don’t see Elizabeth anymore.  I see Gracie, and Natalie Portman is playing the predatory sex deviant.

By 2015, this story is a been there/done that.  The general public has stopped caring.  Only a few still carry an anger with those packages that are left on the doorstep.  Otherwise, there’s nothing left to share or care about.  Yet, May December does a fine job of showing the residual detritus of what’s come from such an illicit affair.  Gracie’s husband before the affair will say he’s over the betrayal and humiliation, but clearly he’s not.  Gracie now has two families.  The first family from a standard marriage with adult and teen children she greets as if they are neighborhood kids.  She’s on the outside of what she used to have as a mother. Then there is the second family consisting of the college age daughter she delivered while in prison and the twins that came thereafter.  An awkward moment occurs in a restaurant when the two families run into one another.  No one is well recovered from Gracie’s transgressions, even if she served her time.

Reflecting back on the music, I wondered why it made such a presence in this intimate, quiet drama.  It literally pounds at you every time it is reintroduced.  I believe it first serves as an abundance of the cheesy melodrama that naturally spawns from an unwell story like this.  Elizabeth is set to appear in a television movie adaptation of this ripped from the headlines account, much like a Lifetime movie of the week which shamelessly thrives on this kind of gossip trash.  The music seems to tell me to “LOOK AT WHAT SHE DID!!!!!!”  Later though, Marcelo Zarvos’ composition seems to remind me that this is not just “another story” as Elizabeth freely dismisses it when talking to Joe during a personal crisis of insecurity.  Joe immediately snaps back at her that this is not just some story.  “This is (his) life!!!!!” 

Before Todd Haynes’ film begins, terrible acts have occurred.  During the course of the movie, we see that terrible results remain.  The narrative of May December is kept interesting because we don’t learn everything at once.  There is exposition to uncover as soon as the film begins all the way to the very end where Gracie undoes all of Elizabeth’s prep work with a curveball truth.  Then, we witness Elizabeth do one take after another on a soundstage with a pet shop prop snake twisting around her arms as the seduction of a young, teenage boy is reenacted.  I don’t think Elizabeth got a convincing grasp on what makes Gracie and Joe tick, and now she questions what she invested in and what she sacrificed of herself in order to learn about the character she committed to portraying.

It’s disturbing what Gracie did.  Perhaps it’s at least as ominous that it is now being duplicated for the sake of entertainment in front of a worldwide audience.

SEA OF LOVE

By Marc S. Sanders

Al Pacino is a twenty-year veteran New York City cop, working out of Manhattan, on the trail of a serial killer in Sea Of Love.  The profession is nothing new to Pacino’s repertoire of roles, but the portrayal is unique thanks to a smart and suspenseful script from Richard Price and intense directing from Harold Becker.

The killer leaves a calling card.  A 45 LP record of Phil Phillips ’50s classic crooner, “Sea Of Love,” spinning on the turntable.  The victims are naked men lying face down in bed with a bullet to the head.  Turns out that a cop from another precinct played by John Goodman has uncovered a similar crime scene in Queens.  So, the two team up.  They believe the murderer is a woman.

All the victims have posted a Lonely-Hearts Club blurb in a magazine. The invitation for a date stands out because the text rhymes.  The detectives decide to post their own ad in the same kind of format, meet the women who respond and hope to nab the killer.  It gets complicated when Pacino encounters a breathtaking and sultry woman played by Ellen Barkin. 

Pacino’s cop is a smart guy.  He’s got instincts.  Yet, perhaps due to his constant drinking, insomnia, and the bitterness he carries now that his partner (Richard Jenkins) has hooked up with his ex-wife, he’s also quite vulnerable.

The mystery is strong, and the tension builds as Sea Of Love moves on.  Barkin has Pacino and the audience convinced that she’s the prime suspect.  Still, he lets his defenses down because he’s easily getting seduced by her advances.

Whether you’re watching Al Pacino share scenes with John Goodman or Ellen Barkin, the execution is fantastic.  Great performances from the three.  Pacino and Goodman have a natural exchange with one another. Often humorous, but the guys always talk like cops.  When Pacino admits to tossing away a fingerprinted glass from Barkin, Goodman suggests lifting the prints from something- ahem – more personal of his.  A cute wink and nod exchange.

More important to the film is the erotic chemistry between Barkin and Pacino.  Harold Becker uses a late-night supermarket visit in the vegetable aisle to evoke the risky and irresistible nature the two characters develop for one another.  Other scenes build well on the relationship between these two lonely strangers who’ve only recently met. 

Moments of isolation and drunken stupors also work towards fleshing out Pacino’s burned out cop.  He’s got a schleppy posture to him and an exhausted expression with his sullen eyes and shaggy black hair.  At the same time, his character’s twenty years of experience seem to uphold his alertness.  This cop knows he’s letting his guard down. Without any dialogue, you see the internal struggle Pacino has with what should be done against what he is deliberately neglecting.

This film was Ellen Barkin’s breakthrough role.  She received rave reviews as someone who takes care to uphold a New York City trendy appearance by day as a shoe salesperson in contrast to a woman looking for some carefree lust in the evening.  For Pacino, Sea Of Love reinvigorated a career slump following a series of poorly reviewed films.  Together, they make for a sexy yet untrusting pair.

Circumventing this relationship is the mystery.  Is Barkin the culprit? She seems to have a dark way about her that may not surprise you.  Price, Barkin and Becker designed the character quite well for her to at least have the potential to be a killer of men.  Is she setting Pacino up to be the next victim?

New York City from the late 1980s looks great, even though interiors were shot in Toronto.  Trevor Jones offers a nail-biting soundtrack to keep the suspense heightened at just the right beats of the picture with Becker’s camera pointing down dark hallways or when new clues are discovered.

I’ve seen Sea Of Love a few times and even with knowing the surprise ending, the film still holds up thanks to the performances from its three stars, along with its taut editing, well-paced writing, and smart direction. 

This is a good erotic murder mystery.

THE MARVELS

By Marc S. Sanders

If you just want to join your family to have fun at the movies then go see The Marvels. 

The thirty third installment in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (33???????? Wow!!!) follows a trio of women donning the superhero costumes and getting caught up in an exchange of bouncing around their respective presences with one another.  One second Ms. Marvel (Iman Vellani) is in her Jersey City home with her family and then suddenly she’s in an astronaut uniform, floating through space, previously occupied by Monica Rambeau (Teyona Parris).  Another minute, Monica is in that uniform and then suddenly she is occupying the space once held by Captain Marvel (Brie Larson).  This happens a lot within the first twenty minutes and its edited so well for laughs and hijinks as the three main characters of the film are constantly having to switch adventures on a dime.

I have not watched the Ms. Marvel Disney Plus TV series yet.  I won’t lie.  This guy who grew up on Marvel comics, cartoons, and toys is getting MCU exhausted and I just have needed a break.   I’m told there are some elements of that show that lead to some things going on in The Marvels.  Didn’t bother me though.  While I like wink and nod subtleties, it is not why I go to the movies.  I’m not watching War And Peace.  I’m watching superheroes who wear spandex and capes and fly.  I trusted myself to pick up on who was who and what was what.

The Marvels works for the most part as a stand-alone story from the rest of the MCU stuff.  Ms. Marvel, aka teenager Kamala Khan, is a diehard fan of Captain Marvel aka Carol Danvers.  Her room is adorned with her idolized hero in various poses and flights.  Kamala finally gets to meet Carol when they share an adventure together.  Her parents and brother are the strangers in a strange world who give poor Nick Fury (Samuel L Jackson, who I think holds the record for most MCU appearances) a hard time for the sake of comedy.  Monica is the niece by friendship connection to Carol Danvers.  Monica was a child the last time she saw Aunt Carol.  Since that time, her mother has passed away from cancer while she disappeared during Thanos’ blip.

A new Kree villain is mounting an offence.  Dar-Benn (Zawe Ashton) has recovered a wristlet of power (meh…it’s a MacGuffin).  Kamala has the other wristlet (meh…another MacGuffin).  Dar-Benn is going to fight the trio and then another MCU film will have been completed.

The Marvels is not a perfect movie.  At times the characters are speaking in their own science fiction scientific speak to tell me what is happening next and honestly I have no idea what in the hell they are talking about.  Meh!  I didn’t care.  Just get to where you need to go.

What serves the film is the set ups of scenes.  Kree bad guys wreck Kamala’s house while the family looks on as one dining room chair or another dish gets bashed.  Holes get smashed through the ceiling as well.  Three Stooges kind of stuff.

There’s also a planet The Marvels travel to for help where the citizens are dressed in pastel colors and ribbons and only communicate in song and harmony.  This could have been a season 3 episode of the original Star Trek series.

The most inspiring and memorable scene is especially catered for lovers of cats and Barbra Streisand.  This sequence that comes late in the film gives new meaning to the phrase “We are herding cats now.”  As silly as this moment is, it should remind you that producer Kevin Feige and his squad of MCU writers have not run out of inventive ideas yet.  This is on the level of the best Saturday Night Live skits you can find. 

Everything is still good in the MCU.  I still enjoy most of what has come down the pike.  The products are just oversaturating themselves by releasing so soon after each other. The MCU is not so enjoyable when it feels like homework to know who and what everything is and where it all left off.

With this installment, the cast is having fun.  The writers are having fun.  The visual effects are having fun.  The story and the bad guy really don’t matter.  The Marvels is simply a kaleidoscope of rainbow color sci-fi silliness and that’s enough to satisfy me.

What would have been a nice touch though is if Babs herself made a cameo appearance.  Then again, the reference joke made in the film during that cat scene left the teenage guys sitting next to me dumbfounded as to why I was laughing so hard at the inclusion of a Streisand number in the film.  Guys, have you not heard of Broadway?????????

THE HUNGER GAMES: THE BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES

By Marc S. Sanders

The Hunger Games: The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes is a stellar prequel to Suzanne Collins’ well-known franchise approach to reality television within a barbaric dystopian setting.  Francis Lawerence returns to direct this characterization of the would-be antagonist Coriolanus Snow played by unknown Tom Blyth in a blazing performance of innocence eventually corrupted by a warped environment of law.

The story takes place just over sixty years before Collins’ first trilogy that centered on the heroine archer Katniss Everdeen.  A vicious annual tournament known as “The Hunger Games” has reached its tenth year and interest in the programming has waned.  Rebellion throughout the twelve districts of Panem is getting stronger and the idea of selecting children to compete in a battle royale to the death is frowned upon. 

The elite students, which include Coriolanus and his best friend Sejanus Plinth (Josh Andrés Rivera), have been assigned to a new development in the Games.  They are to serve as mentors to the selected contestants.  Sejanus, who is the son of one of Panem’s wealthiest entrepreneurs, protests the games altogether.  He’s outspoken and determined in his efforts to put an end to the event.  Yet, his father’s wealth always bails him out.  Coriolanus does not seem to have an opinion on the matter.  He’s more curious about the showmanship of the contestant that he’s been assigned from District 12, a wildcat by the name of Lucy Gray (Rachel Zegler, giving a magnificent presence to her role).

Lucy Gray is a free-thinking troublemaker wearing a wardrobe of colors and design.  She is a bursting talent with a guitar as well and an attitude to boot.  While the other contestants appear malnourished, poor, sad and legitimately pitiful, Lucy has a guise of confidence and independence.  She certainly stands apart from her competition when they are all locked up in a zoo cage for the public and press to look upon as hype ahead of the grand tournament.  Lucy is not a skilled fighter, but even without Coriolanus’ guidance she knows how to develop a following.

Elsewhere, there are the puppet masters.  There’s Dean Casca Highbottom (Peter Dinklage), the inventor of the games, and teacher to the mentors.  He stresses a promising future for the best mentor performance, but there is to be absolutely no cheating.  As well, Viola Davis plays a devil of a villain as a Dr. Volumnia Gaul.  Think of her as the equivalent to the Nazis’ Dr. Mengele who experiments with new inventions of hideous creatures and process.  Her towering canister of colorful snakes is chilling anytime it appears on screen.

The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes has a long running time for a science fiction piece catered for young adults.  However, it confirms the error that was made with Collins’ film adaptation of her third novel, Mockingjay, which was split it into two films for the sake of greedy revenue commercialization to line Lionsgate’s pockets.  Because this prequel is contained as one piece, Tom Blyth is invited to perform a thrilling character arc of a poor, but intuitive, and good-natured young man who is eventually transformed into an evil personification. 

Lawrence’s film has multiple opportunities to end and roll the credits.  However, it carries on and becomes a journey for its principal characters, Lucy Gray and Coriolanus Snow are much like in the same vein as Vito and Michael Corleone in The Godfather.  Novels often have the luxury of spanning a wide berth of time to inch their way towards a protagonist’s destiny.  Movies tend to want to hurry things along.  With Francis Lawrence’s film we are granted the time to see how Lucy Gray performs during the leadup to the games as a character of confidence that a public is willing to follow and bet on, but most importantly care about.  Accompanying her is Lucy’s mentor, Coriolanus Snow, who is curious and concerned for Lucy’s wellbeing.  While being separated from one another for large portions of time, the two characters convincingly fall in love. 

The second act of the film is the sport in an arena, far from the technologically sophisticated nature found in the other films.  In this prequel chapter, it is simply an in the round stone coliseum of wreckage following a rebellion strike with barbaric weapons left in the center to grasp for advantage. 

The third act, which in another director’s hands might have been saved for a churned-out sequel, follows the aftermath of where the characters go from here.  Coriolanus becomes an infantryman in District 12 along with Sejanus.  A whole new design is introduced late into the film, and it is as if we’ve begun a brand-new episode of a franchise series.  What keeps The Hunger Games installments feeling fresh is that we are granted both the events preceding the games as well as what’s occurring thereafter. 

The cast is outstanding.  Viola Davis and Peter Dinklage have those jaded and unusual appearances suitable for this disturbing setting.  Davis especially absorbs the scenery whenever she is on screen.  Her costume wear, hair and makeup only enhance her chilling performance.  Jason Schwartzman does a superb interpretation of Lucky Flickerman, an ancestor of Stanley Tucci’s flamboyant character from the other films, and the MC for the games.

Rachel Zegler lends her talents for song and guitar to the film, and I loved every second of it.  I know she is currently not favorable in the public eye based on comments she has made.  However, if she continues to follow a course of picking smart roles and playing them as well as she does here, and like she did in Spielberg’s West Side Story, then she is destined to becoming an elite leading actor in the likes of Julia Roberts and then later Anne Hathaway.  I loved every song she performed in the film as well.  She lends a twang to her vocals that blend beautifully with her guitar strings.

Tom Blyth is so trusting with his boyish complexion and bleach blond curly mop top.  He fits well into the destitute role of the son of a dead would have been tyrant.  His wardrobes are described as hand made at home, even with small bathroom tile pieces serving as fashionable buttons on his dress shirt.  Blyth, while humble, wears everything with confidence, remaining the exact opposite of the President Snow we knew from Donald Sutherland’s performance in earlier films.  This Coriolanus is someone I can trust.  Someone I do not question.  Yet, when the end of the film arrives, I’m left surprised by the outcome of the character even though I know what’s expected of him.  It’s a positively inventive characterization from Suzanne Collins, interpreted with a subtle balance between protagonist and antagonist from Tom Blyth.  This guy might have been a better casting choice for Anakin Skywalker in the Star Wars prequel films. 

I’m angry at myself for not having yet read The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes.  I imagine it’s a crackling good read.  The film concludes with doors open for questions that leave me curiously thinking, four days after having seen the picture.  I can only hope there are additional films to come that explore even more deeply into Suzanne Collins’ rich tapestry of dystopia and the complex characters that occupy it.

The Hunger Games: The Ballad Of Songbirds And Snakes is one of the best pictures of the year.

NAPOLEON

By Marc S. Sanders

I never knew much about Napoleon Bonapart.  He was short.  He’s French of course. There’s that famous painting with his right hand tucked into his tunic. Or was it his left?  The big hat. I’d heard he was kind of a brat.  Ridley Scott’s latest period piece, Napoleon, confirms most of what I recall.  The painting was nowhere in sight though.

Joaquin Phoenix portrays General Bonapart, and he surely had a great challenge ahead of him. I cannot say that I was bored with any part of the film, but I did find Napoleon to be quite bland during the first act of the film.  Phoenix, doing his best with a script by David Scarpa, seems to be a stand in with nothing of much consequence to say.  It is only when the Captain all but invites a promotion upon himself to the rank of General, following the guillotine beheading of Marie Antoinette, that his arrogance begins to show.  Thereafter, he takes it upon himself to force the hands of the governing council to resign from their positions, a very entertaining sequence for sure.  Then Napoleon sees no other purpose but ongoing conquest. 

With each passing scene in Napoleon, the ego of the title character grows and grows and that is the underlying theme of Scott’s picture.  We journey to the pyramids of Egypt to witness Napoleon lead his armies towards further conquest.  Alternatively, we also trek through the raw winters of Russia and on to a blazing Moscow.  Who set the Russian city alight is a question that history may contradict of the General’s claim.

Napoleon is sure to get a slew of Oscar nominations.  However, it will likely not be in any of the major categories.  The numerous battles are outstanding in whatever setting Ridley Scott offers.  Whether it is in the desert or murky winter grounds, I could not tell if the armies were physical extras or CGI.  It all looked seamless in its construction.  David Lean would be proud.  Sound editing was also perfectly in sync.  The set designs of the many scenes throughout are exemplary from bedrooms to halls and the wallpapers, furnishings and floors and even the outdoor landscaping of the French estates.  Even Napoleon’s tent on one battlefield after another are absorbing.  The costuming always makes a statement.  Every stitch and distressed shade of blues, reds and whites tell a story.  Yes, it’s all very impressive.  However, I did not go to Napoleon to grade a college project assignment in fine arts.  Overall, it has to be the movie itself that grabs me.

Unfortunately, Ridley Scott’s film suffers from shortcomings that cannot be forgiven.  I have to lend credit to my wife who pointed out flaws that did not come to my attention until I heard her input, and thus could not deny.  There are topics brought up in the film that are either not followed through clearly or are left with questions. 

One moment in particular occurs when Napoleon opts to marry the daughter of a leader. Do not ask me to remember which leader. Characters leave the picture just as quickly as they enter.  One daughter is of proper age.  The other daughter we are told is only age fifteen and Napoleon turns down the idea of the latter, but in the scene afterwards it appears that he actually did choose to marry the fifteen-year-old.  The girl certainly looked like a teenager.  So, how did that come to be? 

A storyline I really took an interest in was Napoleon’s marriage to Josephine (Vanessa Kirby).  The widow of a dead soldier, with three children, he marries her for love.  Then he leaves to conquer some more and more around the world.  Yet, the general returns when he realizes she is happily having affairs in his absence.  The bruised egotistic response of Napoleon is very well played out. Joaquin Phoenix has his best moments in the storyline he shares with Vanessa Kirby.  However, while I thought I understood, my wife pointed out that the film does not clearly explain how the relationship continues.  There’s animosity at first but then there is a mutual love between the couple and how exactly did that flourish and change?  When was the mutual affection eventually sparked?  What works best is how the two are unable to bear a child together.  Napoleon is nothing but forceful in his moments of sex with Josephine.  He will damn well force a pregnancy even if it means he has to thrust harder and harder inside of her.  Yet, no results come of his efforts. An heir must carry on the Bonapart legacy.  Since one does not appear, it taxes heavily upon the powerful leader.

Later in the film, following the couple’s dissolution of marriage, a child is born but who exactly carried the offspring?  Details like these seem to be glossed over.

Few directors are as skillful at showing grand scenes of battlegrounds with sharp, clear edits of how the fighting progresses.  Ridley Scott demonstrates that over and over again with one scene after another.  He accomplishes fare like this so well in other films like Gladiator and his interpretation of Robin Hood.  The dark hazy cinematography works beautifully on a big screen.  However, I’m not sure if it will be as effective on a sixty-inch flat screen where there’s a risk of intrusive glares in your living room.  These magnificent scenes need to be watched on a big screen.

Unfortunately, the attention to detail is not lent to the story as effectively. Napoleon’s mark in history did not just happen in a period of a few years.  For a brief window of time, France was a superpower ahead of the likes of Egypt, Britain, Austria, Prussia and even Russia.  Two hours and forty minutes may seem like a long film and yet Napoleon likely needed at least an additional hour to serve a complete historical recount.

If you want to see Napoleon, now is your chance while it plays in theaters.  Again, I do not believe it will have the same effect at home.  Regrettably, the film does not offer enough on the plate.  No one in the cast is doing anything of Oscar caliber accomplishments.  Ridley Scott comes up short of end of the year award considerations for not inviting tighter storytelling, and that also goes for David Scarpa’s script. 

The visual marvels of this period piece are what is to behold.  Watching Napoleon, I certainly felt like I was there amid the glorious costumes, set designs and cinematic photography.  Nevertheless, while I may have been in the room, the hosts of the picture were not sharing their entire conversation with me around the dinner table.  Alas, at times, I was left to stand in the corner, feeling like an unwelcome guest.

GLADIATOR

By Marc S. Sanders

Ridley Scott’s Gladiator is a terrifically sweeping sword and sandal epic adventure.  It contains well drawn characterizations of its heroes and its one tyrannical villain, along with superbly bloody hack n chop violence and action that live up to its title. 

Rome has finally finished its campaign of conquer throughout at least one quarter of the world.  General Maximus (Russell Crowe) is ready to return to his wife and son to live out the rest of his days as a farmer and family man.  However, the dying Emperor Marcus Aurelius (Richard Harris) begs him to take over his position so the Roman Empire may carry forth with prosperity.  If Maximus does not take over, the empire is at risk of being inherited by Marcus’ spoiled son Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix).  While Maximus ponders the request, Marcus dies and Commodus quickly takes over, and orders the immediate deaths of the celebrated General and his family.  Maximus and Commodus will eventually circle back with one another, however.

Gladiator feels like an epic film in the vein of a David Lean picture that would require time and work to follow through its various developments.  Maximus certainly goes through a widespread arc.  One of the advertising bylines described it as the man who was General, who became a slave, who became a gladiator. Russell Crowe is right for this role.  Not only is he lean and built for the part, but he brings a empathetic approach to the character.  Maximus is loyal to his country, but he also carries pain and longing for his family and when he is wronged, Crowe does very well at displaying his character’s plot of  vengeance against Commodus with strategy and skill.

Joaquin Phoenix rightly earned his first Oscar nomination as a wonderful villain.  The screenplay from David Franzoni, John Logan and William Nicholson offer memorable pieces of dialogue for the bratty son.  “I feel vexed. I am very vexed.”  – a line that sounds so minimal and yet when Phoenix delivers it, it’s only more terrifying.  This little monster captured in an adult body can respond to anything that slightly irks him.

The battle between Commodus and Maximus is hardly physical.  Maximus realizes through his companions that a better and wiser form of revenge is to win Rome’s admiration away from its ruler.  Commodus lives off his ego.  So, when Maximus is encouraged by his slave owner to “win the crowd” amid the games performed in the famed coliseum, it not only lends to the gladiator’s ongoing survival, but it tears away at Commodus’ rule.  A great subplot is included focusing on the ruler’s nephew, Lucius (Spencer Treat Clark).  The expression on Joaquin Phoenix’ face when young Lucius role plays as the great Maximus works like a frozen moment in time.  Imagine a famed quarterback’s child cheering for the defensemen who performs an unforgivable sack during the final ten seconds of a game.  It’s terribly bruising.

When Gladiator was first released in theaters, I found the CGI to lack texture and it appeared very dark like a bad 3D film.  It looked too animated.  This most recent viewing was on a restored 4K transfer and the picture quality is astounding.  Every element of the broad landscapes within the battlefields and especially in the gold sheen photography of the coliseum battles blend perfectly.  If you still don’t understand the importance of 4K, turn to this film to uphold the argument. 

Ridley Scott does not waste a shot in this picture.  Reactionary sequences are just as effective as the cuts to the action.  Blades and barbaric weapons shed gorgeous splashes of blood. Every thrust and parry are easy to see. I’ve never forgotten when a chariot rider is cut in half at the torso from an oncoming blade attached to rolling wheel.  The choreography and editing of the battles are thrilling with sound editing that compliments the moments. 

Beyond Russell Crowe and Joaquin Phoenix, the cast is wonderful.  I’ve always admired Richard Harris’ quiet approach in the twilight years of his career.  He never had to do much to offer a presence.  Connie Nielsen portrays Lucilla, Commodus’ sister who he has affections for.  Her subtle resistance allows Joaquin Phoenix more opportunities to feel “vexed.”  Oliver Reed passed away during the making of this film. Fortunately, Ridley Scott and company did not opt to cut out his role as the gladiator/slave trader, Proximo.  He works well as a kind of mentor to Maximus and the band of other warriors, coaching them on how to stay alive and rise above Commodus’ monarchy.  “Win the crowd and you win your freedom.”  Djimon Hounsou is a loyal sidekick to Crowe’s character. Derek Jacobi is once again that guy you have seen before allowing his expert craft in Shakespearean performance to flesh out the political angle of the story among the Senators.  Every actor serves a valuable purpose in the film.  None of these performances feel like walk on roles.  So, the overall casting of the picture must be commended.

Gladiator is a crowd-pleasing film. Though it is based in ancient history, there remains a fantasy element to the movie when you look at grand designs of the settings, costumes, and dialogue.  Storylines of politics and tyranny hold relatable to modern current events.  What can occur when one man takes over everything for his selfish purposes?  Pointless displays of theatrics can occur at the behest of others who were once heroes, instrumental in placing a despot atop a throne.  I presume Ridley Scott’s film is just one more example of the inherent nature found in humans.  Some of us are destined to rule and control.  That alone is cruel and selfish.  It is even worse when this totalitarian mindset is unleased upon those that put these rulers in their place.  History and especially modern times demonstrate that loyalty is only fleeting.  The ability to possess totalitarian control, however, is hopefully even more short-lived.

THE MEAN SEASON

By Marc S. Sanders

I get caught up in movies focused on serial killers.  As an actor, I imagine it must be fun to portray a deranged psychopath like Norman Bates or Hannibal Lector, or maybe even John Doe from Seven.  On the other hand, maybe not because an effective screenplay needs to be nearby.

The Mean Season from 1985 has an effective premise but that’s where the positives of the picture stop.  Kurt Russell portrays Malcolm Anderson, a burnt-out reporter for the The Miami Journal.  He is the paper’s most reputable writer but just as he is ready to resign and move to Colorado with his loving girlfriend, Christine (Mariel Hemingway), he’s tasked with writing an article about the murder of a teenage girl on the beach.  Soon after, he’s getting phone calls from the killer himself, played by Richard Jordan whose face is concealed through most of the film by his hand holding a telephone.  The killer insists on only maintaining communication with Malcolm and no one else, especially not the cops.  He relays that the city of Miami can expect four more murders.

The title of the film stems from south Florida’s well known weather variations that occur at the start of hurricane season, primarily in July.  That does nothing for me, but the title alone sounds marketable enough for a thriller.  Almost sounds like a Stephen King novel.  The Mean Season!!!!!  Unfortunately, that’s all that this movie has to rely on, even if Kurt Russell is doing his best like he always does in better suspense movies like Unlawful Entry and Breakdown.

The fault with The Mean Season resides with the director’s amateurish approaches.  Fifteen minutes into the film, with the story hardly in motion, a nude Christine is taking a shower.  The haunting music begins and suddenly the shower curtain is pulled for Malcolm to deliberately startle his girlfriend.  So, we have the Psycho salute.  Check!  Later, following an argument between the two lovers, Malcolm gets in his car and is startled by Christine coming up from behind in the backseat. Ha!!!! Okay and there’s the Halloween nod.  Another check!  I bet these cheap tactics were not even written in the script.  Director Phillip Borsos (never heard of this guy before; doesn’t surprise me) must be so insecure in his skills behind a camera that he just goes for duplicative tripe.

Threats to the couple elevate as the film moves on and when Malcolm gets wind of Christine being in danger, he’s in his Mustang racing to her.  The cops (Andy Garcia, Richard Bradford) are right behind him, and no one thinks of summoning a squad car to where Christine is expected to be?  Of course not.  If they did, then we wouldn’t be treated to a clumsy sequence where an elevated bridge gets in Kurt Russell’s way forcing him to make a leap across the gap and come down on the steep other side and continue his foot race.  Kurt Russell really looks stupid in this moment, and I’m sure he was thinking I can not believe I agreed to this.

As with any of these movies, there is a just when you think the bad guy is dead, there he is again.  No wonder we didn’t get a long enough closeup on the corpse found in the dense Everglades.  However, we get treated to seeing a long, meaningless sequence of Kurt Russell being a passenger on a swamp buggy.  Big deal.  Does this enhance any kind of suspense?  Does it move the story along?  The director got access to a couple of swamp buggies and a day of shooting in the Everglades and said we gotta get this in here.

The final fight is as moronic as the rest of the picture.  Richard Jordan and Kurt Russell are going at it in the living room while a hurricane rages outside.  Mariel Hemingway just sits on the sofa and watches.  She just watches.  She doesn’t reach for a kitchen knife or a vase to smash on the bad guy’s head and help her poor boyfriend.  We just get a sad excuse of a damsel who is not in distress. 

Thankfully, Kurt Russell’s career survived this junk of standard jump scares and shortness on intellect. 

As I’ve said before in other columns, there was a better movie here.  There could have been a movie that explored the endless hours that an investigative reporter must endure.  His editor and photographer (Richard Masur, Joe Pantoliano) could have shared the heightened fear and suspense.  The cops on the case could have applied more pressure and/or assistance to the reporter.  They don’t even tap his phone to trace where the calls are coming from.  In 1985, I think they already had the technology to do that.  A tape recorder was used though, and the audience not only gets to listen to the conversations once as they are happening but then again as the characters listen to the tape.  Why?  Is there something I missed the first time I heard Kurt Russell say hello?  This is filler crap. 

A better movie would have pursued what motivates this killer we hardly get to know.  We should have learned more about this guy because he’s the one making the phone calls.  So, it is obvious he wants to be heard.  However, the guy has nothing to say of any significance.  Even a psychologist who’s recruited for one scene doesn’t make any observation that gives me, or the characters in the film, pause. 

The Mean Season is an “I got it!” film.  It’s where the director gets his big break and declares “I’ve got it!!!!  We’ll do Psycho and then we’ll do Halloween.  Gotta make sure we see Marial Hemingway topless.  That’s definitely at the top of the list. Oh yeah, and then we’ll get swamp buggies and can we get some wind and rain machines for a really, really, really mean—I mean very mean—season!”

THE LEGEND OF BILLIE JEAN

By Marc S. Sanders

Growing up as a teenager, in the dog days of summer, and living in a new town with few friends at the time allowed a lot of binge watching of movies on Showtime.  Top Gun must have been shown twelve times a day.  So was Back To School.  The other movie on constant repeat was The Legend Of Billie Jean – a movie of few merits and yet the heroic sweep of the fugitive rebel on the run with her trailer park gal pals and her little brother was addicting.  It’s a brisk ninety-minute film, but each time I’d watch the movie it felt like the title character raised even more awareness and support for her cause than the last time I watched, which was likely four hours earlier in the day, during breakfast.

Helen Slater is Billie Jean.  Her younger brother is Binx played by Christian Slater, in his first film.  NO RELATION!!!! 

Under a hot sun-drenched setting in Corpus Christie, Texas, the siblings are bullied by Hubie (Barry Tubb).  Binx gets beat up.  Even worse, his shiny maroon motor scooter is stolen and trashed.  When Billie Jean approaches the bully’s father, Mr. Pyatt (Richard Bradford), to collect the six hundred dollars for the cost of the bike, she narrowly escapes a rape after Binx shoots the scumbag in the shoulder.  Now the kids are on the run with Ophelia and Putter (Martha Gehman and Yeardley Smith – eventual voice of Lisa Simpson).

A firestorm starts to spread with a loyal underground following for Billie Jean and her band, and they receive assistance from the District Attorney’s (Dean Stockwell) son Lloyd, played by Keith Gordon.  The cop on their trail is played by Peter Coyote.  Wait!  I’m not being fair.  This cop is never on their trail.  Somehow every kid in the state of Texas can find and help Billie Jean, except the cops.  Even with the DA’s son in tow, these fugitives cannot be located by one single, solitary police cruiser.  Yet, the kids on the playgrounds make no effort to find Billie Jean, Binx and the others.  Yes.  You shake your head at the whole thing.  When you are age fourteen though, you get caught up with Helen Slater, one of your first celebrity crushes, and the accompanying soundtrack of Pat Benatar’s rebellious anthem “Invincible.”

The Legend Of Billie Jean is a stupid movie.  I don’t think anyone can argue with me.  I mean think about this for a second.  Peter Coyote’s cop finds their getaway car with Putter and Ophelia.  Still, he doesn’t choose to search the vehicle for a significant clue to the hero’s whereabouts until the next day.  Isn’t this sloppy investigative fieldwork?  As well, during the climax a brushfire is started by Billie Jean and no one runs or calls for a firetruck.  The DA, the cops, the kids – they all just stand there watching in deep thought like they were directed.  I can only imagine the director with his megaphone yelling out the command to stare straight ahead at the growing flames.  Mind you, this isn’t a control burn firepit.  This is a BRUSH FIRE with hay and wood and clothes as accelerants.

Nevertheless, the movie is an only slightly embarrassing guilty pleasure.  It’s not as hokey as it looks on the surface.  The acting isn’t terrible because the young cast is embracing the absurdity of the whole situation.  It stands, albeit wobbly, on the same plotline of an eventual and exceedingly better film called Thelma & Louise.  More importantly, Helen Slater makes for a good lead role and heroine.  When she tells Mr. Pyatt “No,” and cries her anthem of “Fair is fair” you root for her.  Slater’s performance is far grander than the script she is working with. 

The Legend Of Billie Jean performs like an afterschool special without dubbing out the cursing. The cause of these kids’ plight enhances as the film progresses.  What starts out as a simple bullying story and a demand for monetary damages of only six hundred dollars turns into a fight for respect and honor from the adult males within a small, southern local community.  However, there is little to feel inspired by, and I’m afraid Billie Jean’s supposed legend unfolds into only a slightly miniscule smidgen of Legendary.