Category: Marc’s Reviews

CIAO, MAMA

By Marc S. Sanders

I’ve been listening to a podcast covering Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, and one of the commentators pointed out that too often Italian Americans are only depicted within a vacuum of mobster mentality.  Wracking my brain, I couldn’t disagree.  However, a small film written and directed by Luca Perito called Ciao, Mama sways away from that stereotype.  The mama of the title, whose name is Gloria, has passed on.  Family and friends gather in upstate New York to celebrate her life.

The film primarily focuses on Tony (Micah Joe Parker), the son who went to Hollywood with an ambition of becoming a successful actor.  Away for nine years and the best he’s doing is trying out for Cop #3.  He gets a call from his one-time girlfriend Danielle (Rebecca Radisic) that his mother has passed away from cancer.  Tony was never supposed to know until she was gone.  Gloria specifically told Danielle and his childhood friend Marco (Johnny Wactor) to keep her illness a secret.

Back in New York, the house is full of all who knew Mama, including her husband who is experiencing early onset dementia, plus Marco and Danielle, but Tony cannot bear to go inside.  It’s clear he is shell shocked by this news and holds his internal vigil in the backyard while nursing a beer.

Ciao, Mama needed to be a longer film, clocking in at roughly only an hour and fifteen minutes.  Especially because I quickly grew to love this collection of characters.  The problem is I did not learn enough.  What is fortunate is that I grew to love Mama (Alessia Franchin) through flashback. 

Perito’s film, adapted from his one act play, demonstrates how full a home is with the matriarch there to connect all who enter through its front door.  The past life moments of Franchin’s character makes whoever she is talking to the most important person in the world at any given moment.  A touching scene shows her being the inquisitor as she interrogates Danielle and then later Bianca, Marco’s girlfriend (Emily Alabi), on their favorite color, favorite drink, what makes them happy, what makes them sad and so on.  The natural chemistry of the two young ladies in front of this middle-aged woman set on a tranquil patio setting is so comfortable.  The girls enjoy her presence.  They want to be nowhere else and Mama does not have desire to do anything other.  I wanted Mama to question me next.

Shortly after, the temperature changes and Marco is learning that Mama’s cancer is getting worse and treatment is too expensive.  This lifelong friend of the family insists on paying for her medical bills.  I’ve seen conversations like this before.  It’s in every WB drama or Hallmark film.  I know where it always goes and what notes it hits.  However, Johnny Wactor, as Marco, with Alessia Franchin strike a special chord.  This is one of the few scenes they share in this short film, and I feel like I’ve seen a whole relationship.

Michah Joe Parker as Tony does good work as the anguished son who seems to be ten steps behind everyone else when he returns home.  His early confrontations with Marco are peppered with the f-word and angry roughhousing in the grassy backyard.  Wactor and Parker have good chemistry.  I do wish there was more substance to their conflicts, however.  When a film takes place over one afternoon into night with less than ninety minutes of running time, it’s important to be economical with these exchanges of dialogue.  Before Tony reveals that he hooked up with Marco’s sister, Danielle (Rebecca Radisic), what was truly eating away at these childhood best friends? Good scenes but there is definitely some treading water in a pool of f-bombs and not much else. I needed more back story for these two guys.

I also wanted to learn more about Danielle and Tony and what drew them together.  There’s an adorable flashback scene where they finally attack one another with passion only to get interrupted by Gloria, who has no serious objection. However, then not much else is shared beyond Danielle consoling Tony after the funeral and trying to fence off her inebriated brother Marco.

Great humor comes from the minister (Pete Gardner).  In between confrontations or flashbacks, the film cuts back to Father O’Malley in the kitchen, near the buffet table, savoring the delicious Italian food while chiming in with terribly inappropriate jokes.  To see a priest declare that he hates funerals…because he’s not a mourning person is hysterically ill timed.  To further see him roll his eyes to the back of his head and lose his footing while he chows down on lasagna with one hand and homemade brownies in another introduces a whole other dynamic.  Whenever Gardner shows up on screen, I fell in love with Perito’s film all over again.  This priest should be containing himself more with decorum. Yet, it’s hilarious that he does not.  This was a such a wise choice of Perito to uphold this side bit because it also welcomes an appreciation of Italian culture and cuisine…from an Irish minister.

It’s a terrible sadness to learn that Johnny Wactor was tragically murdered just before this film was completed.  Marco is a tormented soul plagued by addiction and pain, while appearing like he has it all together.  Wactor beautifully sets up a lot of different dimensions from Perito’s script of effective dialogue. I would have liked to see Johnny Wactor’s career flourish.  My wife watched him on General Hospital, a young actor with such promise.  Thankfully, he can be seen here in a delicately sensitive and unstable character performance. I welcome a sequel, perhaps at Marco’s funeral, where Wactor’s invention of the character can be celebrated next. Because of the short length of Ciao, Mama there is definately more to tell about this family and the surrounding community.

An adjustment I wish was considered was the instrumental soundtrack.  Often it is intrusive and unnecessary. Rather than amplifying any given scene, it is used as a crutch to build up emotions.  I found it too loud. On occasion, it was hard to hear the actors’ dialogue.  More importantly, this cast is very capable already.  So, I did not need a soundtrack to feel a connection.  These actors and this script had me already. 

Ciao, Mama is worth the watch, but again it begs for more.  There’s a lot of good, substantial baggage offered, but the film requires additional material to breathe and cover the promising stories that I was not ready to let go of. I was taken with the piece all the way through until its conclusion when a final farewell from Mama is read to Tony on a north shore beach. Otherwise, Ciao, Mama is a beautiful film.

BATMAN BEGINS

By Marc S. Sanders

The merits of a lot of action/adventure films is predicated on how strong the villain is to the story.  Often the hero is the straight character in the heroic garb ready to enter the scene just as the bad guy is on the brink of maniacally destroying the world.  In the early 2000s however, the focus diverted to the hero when big franchises opted to reinvent themselves.  James Bond’s origin was finally offered up in the best film of the series, Casino Royale.  Christopher and Jonathan Nolan served up one of the best cinematic Batman stories on screen.  The title said it all.

Batman Begins gets every note right with the all too familiar back story of Bruce Wayne’s drive to become Gotham City’s Dark Knight vigilante.  The film has its collection of villains but the center of the picture is always circumventing around Bruce Wayne, perfectly played by Christian Bale, with somber truth hidden by handsome playboy disguise.  As a child, he discovers his fear of bats and then attends the theater with his billionaire parents.  Upon their exit through a back alley, he witnesses their death and is left to be raised by his trusty butler, Alfred Pennyworth (Michael Caine, my favorite actor in the role to date).

This film achieves my undivided attention because it paints a full canvas of this character before he ever adopts an alter ego in a black costume.  We explore how he becomes motivated followed by his intense training in the zenith alps, on the Asian continent.  Then we see how he supplies himself with all of the familiar gadgets and costumes when he befriends an ally within his father’s company, Lucius Fox (Morgan Freeman). 

Jonathan Nolan’s script diverts away on occasion to embrace the capable villains of this story with the Scarecrow (Cillian Murphy), Rha’s Al Ghul (Ken Watanabe) and mob boss Carmine Falcone (Tom Wilkinson).  Bruce’s mentor, Ducard (Liam Neeson), is a big factor in the hero’s development as well.  Lastly, there’s Bruce’s childhood friend and legal connection, Assistant D.A. Rachel Dawes (Katie Holmes).  Lt. James Gordon is the uncompromised police detective that Bruce singles out to trust within this dense world of corruption.

Just to read this cast list is impressive as they fall beautifully within the matrix of Nolan’s blueprint.  Everyone is given enough time to make more than one impression as their storylines twist and alter.

Christopher Nolan’s films are always moving like a smooth ride on a never-ending stretch of road with no traffic in the way.  Nothing bears repeating from what was already shown in an earlier scene.  There’s something new to learn as the pace continues.  Nolan is one of the few filmmakers where you do not mind the time jumps he incorporates into his stories.  Bruce will first be seen as a ten-year-old boy, then in his muscular fit thirties in a Chinese prison completely departed from the wealth of Wayne Manor.  A step back before that shows him as a Princeton drop out with a mop top haircut.  Every different appearance of Bruce is interesting and you become intrigued with how he ends up in one place after another. 

Like the first appearance of Daniel Craig in the Bond series, this Batman/Bruce Wayne is repeatedly imperfect.  He’s flawed because he still needs to learn and the characters that enter and exit and reenter his life must teach him.  Alfred will lecture a short-triggered Bruce when he’s on the cusp of risking the reputation of his father’s legacy.  Rachel will slap him when he’s prepared to kill in cold vengeance.  Ducard will teach him the ways of physical survival and will test Bruce’s loyalty and the measures of crime with punishment.  Even the Scarecrow is smarter than Batman when he springs an unexpected trap.

The ongoing education of Bruce Wayne is the theme of Batman Begins, all the way to the end, when he finally learns to mind his surroundings.

Christopher Nolan made Batman exciting in a new unfamiliar way.  The Batmobile is a not a sporty kind of vehicle.  It’s a tank called The Tumbler and it bears a thunderous series of sound edits as it barrels through Gotham City.  After some slip and falls off rooftops, Batman becomes much more covert than in other interpretations.  You don’t have to physically see Batman to observe him operate.  If a thug gets swallowed into a void of darkness, you know what has ensnared him.  The crusader’s devices which stem from his gold utility belt are demonstrated with explained reason for why he selected them for his fighting advantage.  The Nolans proudly recognize the theatricality of this guy.

Cillian Murphy is unforgettable as he lives up to the name of Scarecrow, also known as Dr. Jonathan Crane, a criminal psychologist.  His choice to put his victims into a hypnotizing sense of fear lend to the back story of Bruce Wayne’s intent to become a frightening figure himself, where his enemies will recognize his dread.  Tom Wilkinson claws his gangster persona straight from a Godfather kind of picture, but he represents an old guard of Gotham City before costumed and makeup identities take over.  Gotham will transition from the sharp dressed mobsters over to the crazed clowns yet to come. 

Gary Oldman invents another unique personality – a strait-laced city guy who might have come from a 1970s ABC cops and robber show like Dragnet.  No two characters of Oldman’s are ever the same.  So much so, you almost wish they would all assemble in a movie for the various personalities to interact.  Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine are like comfort food who are so subtle and relaxed in front of a camera.  Neither one makes big waves with their characters.  Jonathan Nolan wrote their respective purposes for this Bruce Wayne and they execute their techniques of less is more beautifully.

Liam Neeson delivers the second-best performance of his career thus far, after Oskar Schindler.  He adopts the same kind of method that Freeman and Caine work with, but then he sways from that behavior when Ducard has to surprise Bruce as a means for his pupil’s development. Some of what he does comes from nowhere.  Early in the film, his first two scenes could not be more different.  Neeson works like an unpredictable entity.

The next film in this trilogy replaced Katie Holmes with Maggie Gyllenhaal.  I was disappointed because Holmes was maturing as a very formative actor by this time.  She was blessed with a well written character in Rachel Dawes.  When I watch the next film, The Dark Knight, I cannot help but wonder how she would have performed the role for a second and much more developed opportunity. 

There is not one flaw in Batman Begins.  This is the movie that placed Christopher Nolan in the echelon of top blockbuster directors like Spielberg and Hitchcock, along with Lumet and Mann.  Hans Zimmer’s soundtrack is thrilling as it speaks for The Dark Knight who is of few words.  Zimmer’s scores announce the introduction of Bruce Wayne first, and then later Batman. 

Gotham City makes for a sensational character with various rooftops, fire escapes, tunnels, bridges and a gorgeous, elevated train at its center.  The entire city breathes steam amid the distressed decay, wet streets and rusted architecture. 

Wayne Manor has a ghostly effect as Alfred and Bruce climb the large staircases and floors.  Further down under its platforms rests the cave that’ll serve Batman well.  The waterfalls and rocky caverns are immense. 

Batman Begins is not one of the best films of a genre like any other superhero movie.  I refuse to recognize it that way.  Instead, I see a character study where a man accepts a responsibility to fix what scarred him at a young age.  He wants to right a world that once had promise.  I don’t see the costumed protagonist announce himself as a superhero.  I don’t see the costume.  With the cape and the horns on the head and the car and the tools, I see an image, never a superhero.  With Christopher Nolan’s first film in what will become a well-received trilogy, I always see the man underneath the mask. 

LETTERS FROM IWO JIMA

By Marc S. Sanders

The companion piece to Clint Eastwood’s World War II film, Flags Of Our Fathers, and shot back-to-back, is Letters From Iwo Jima.  It’s not so much a war film as it’s a perspective of a losing battle during the height of the war, shown through the eyes of Japanese soldiers bearing little ammunition, food, and supplies while being plagued with dysentery and starvation. 

Right from the start, what I found interesting is how similar the Japanese mentality is to that of American soldier characters I’m all too familiar within other cinematic retellings. Paul Haggis recruited Iris Yamashita to write the screenplay, entirely in English, and then translated into Japanese.  The subtitles seem to read with a familiar English vernacular that my limited knowledge of Japanese culture would never expect.  I also find it interesting that rankings are the same from General to Lieutenant for example, and the salute to officers is precisely identical.  All of these similarities, and still the world powers find reason to fight one another.

The running theme of the picture reminded me of the television show M*A*S*H.  An assortment of characters take the time to write home about their experiences and fears along with the hardships they are enduring with unpure water, sweltering heat, infectious bugs and exhaustion.  One soldier’s letters are told will get censored if they ever reach the mother land.  These men are bakers and scholars, forced to serve a power that controls them.  They are not spies or regular army men.  They had no choice but to be here digging and preparing to kill.

Ken Watanabe portrays General Kuribayashi.  In the beginning of the film, he is writing a letter to his wife as he is landing on the island days ahead of the battle to come.  One of his biggest concerns is that he did not finish installing the kitchen floor in his home before leaving. Kuribayashi is a celebrated strategist and hero, who actually studied and worked abroad in the United States.  He even broke bread with famed American military leaders and carries a valuable gift from them in his holster.  Yet, he is committed to his country’s Imperial Army and he knows he will not return home from this island.  He also knows that he will have to kill the very same men that he shared a meal with just a few years earlier. That kitchen floor is what is on his mind. 

A young infantryman named Saigô (Kazunari Ninomiya) was forced to enlist while his loving wife is carrying their child.  I’ve seen character situations like these before.  It’s much more revealing to see what cinematic history has described as the enemy to my John Wayne and Clint Eastwood heroes, though.  Recently, I listened to The Cine-Philes podcast recap of the film Crimson Tide, and they focus heavily on the midway dinner scene among the officers.  Denzel Washington’s character concludes that “…the true enemy of war is…war itself.”  Letters From Iwo Jima delivers on that argument.

Ahead of the well-known battle, there’s a quiet tranquility among the Japanese troops.  They debate about digging trenches and even fighting on the island which is devoid of any stronghold or power.  It’s also an unwinnable battle as the Japanese have realized that they are getting no air or naval support because much of their military cavalries have already been decimated.  The ultimate purpose for these men is to hold off the Americans, who are ten times more powerful, for as long as possible.  No man serving the Imperials is to surrender.  They will fight until they are as good as dead.  General Kuribayashi’s best idea to hold out is to dig caves within the mountainsides, thus making it challenging for the American soldiers to locate Japanese within the darkness of the caverns.  It worked longer than it should have as the engagement that was expected to only last five days went as long as thirty-six days instead.

Disturbing moments within the film do not compromise.  A small unit’s unified shout of “BANZAI!” will live with you forever when you see what they jointly commit within the cave they occupy.  Eastwood convincingly shows you the carnage.  Another character recollects how he was enlisted for five days in the military before he was forced to serve at this miserable place for disobeying a direct order. His humanity undid him.  Letters From Iwo Jima tells the stories before the occurrences that left gravesites (estimated to be ten thousand Japanese men lost) on its black sand beaches.

In a way it makes me proud that Clint Eastwood chose to direct Letters From Iwo Jima.  While his war pictures (Where Eagles Dare, Kelly’s Heroes), and even his Dirty Harry films which lean on prejudice for the truth found in humor, are endlessly memorable, he opts to take a sensitive position to the other side of the coin.  Eastwood does not lose sight of the fact that his heroes celebrated during the first half of his career were heroically killing and taking out fellow humans.  Letters From Iwo Jima recognizes the loss of humanity amidst the rocket fires and artillery of violence.  Six Japanese men will take to killing a captured American by beating and stabbing him into lifelessness.  Later, faceless Americans concealed by the director’s familiar shadows of photography will point blank kill a pair of unarmed Japanese men. 

Flags Of Our Fathers points a critical eye at the celebrations of victory.  Letters From Iwo Jima acknowledges victory is beyond reach but the enemy of all of us, war, is never done with any of us.

THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY

By Marc S. Sanders

Love never dies.  Sometimes it just gets jammed in your zipper.

Ted (Ben Stiller) can’t put his finger on it.  Neither can Pat (Matt Dillon) or a couple of other obsessed, stalking paramours.  There’s Just Something About Mary.

In 1985, brace faced, insecure Ted gets the opportunity to go to prom with the prettiest girl in school, Mary (Cameron Diaz).  He’s a good guy, but disaster strikes in truly one of the most unimaginable ways and prom never works out for these kids.

Jump thirteen years later to 1998 and Ted gets the idea to hire Pat, a private investigator, to track down Mary in hopes of rekindling a new romance.  She’s in Miami, Florida now, working as a chiropractic surgeon and even more beautiful than ever.  Problem is that Pat has lied to Ted about what has come of Mary and wants to pounce on her all for himself.  Ted eventually gets up the gumption to trek from Rhode Island to Florida anyway.  Along the way complications ensue.  Let me change topics for one second and remind you to be mindful of rest stops when you are road tripping.

There’s Something About Mary is one of the all-time great comedies and my favorite of the Farrelly Brothers’ collection (Kingpin, Dumb & Dumber, Me, Myself & Irene).  I’ve described the spine of this film, but it’s the guts of endless sight gags within that uphold this picture.  Everything from a dog that gets drugged, electrified, drugged a lot more, and body casted to a handicapped friend of Mary’s who simply cannot pick up his keys without instigating terribly guilt-ridden chuckles. (I’m laughing as I write this.)  Special needs adults lend to the comedy as well.  The Farrellys are proudly nowhere near politically correct. Yet the material manages to not be horribly offensive either.  You need not worry, you will still get into heaven even if you laughed at There’s Something About Mary.  Still, that’s what comedy is.  Somebody always needs to be the victim of the stooges who lend to the mayhem.

This comedy is also perfectly cast from the three headliners all the way down to the extras.  A South Carolina jail cell setting draws big laughs at poor Ted’s demise. 

Cameron Diaz is such a sport though, always looking beautiful while willing to be the fool.  It was great to watch this with my seventeen-year-old daughter since she had no idea of that hair gel scene.  If you don’t know, don’t read about it.  Just watch and look at how well Diaz holds the moment together.  I remember SCREAMING in the movie theatre next to Miguel.

Stiller and Dillon are two dumbasses you likely never would have envisioned in a film together.  Nevertheless, they are perfect foils of stupidity against one another.  Matt Dillon is often recognized for his tough guy dramatic roles.  Yet, he puts it all on the line.  Stiller is primarily known for comedy, and this film is the first of a series where he becomes the unfortunate victim of circumstances (Along Came Polly, Meet The Parents).  I wouldn’t want anyone else in these scenarios though.  You laugh at what Ben Stiller ends up in but also feel sorry for the poor guy.  I would have no objection if Matt Dillon and Ben Stiller paired up again for another comedy, even all these years later.

Other cast members also lend their level of comedy from Chris Elliott to Lin Shaye to Sarah Silverman, Jeffrey Tambor, Markie Post and especially Keith David, who knows he belongs nowhere in this movie, but that’s exactly why he should be part of the cast.  He’s utterly hilarious.

A nice touch to the movie are the series of outtakes during the end credits while the cast lip sync to The Foundations celebratory number “Build Me Up Buttercup.”  This had to have been such a party to film and finally the audience is assured that they can laugh along in front or behind the camera as well. 

There’s Something About Mary is the movie so many of us need right now.  Turn off the news and turn on what went on between Ted and Pat and their pursuit of Mary. 

FROM THE WORLD OF JOHN WICK: BALLERINA

By Marc S. Sanders

Her father gets killed.  She grows up to become a skilled assassin.  She seeks revenge.

There’s your story.

Ana de Armas headlines this extended branch off the John Wick franchise called Ballerina.  She plays Eve.  I like her.  The same way I liked her all too brief appearance in No Time To Die.  

Keanu Reeves’ Mr. Wick makes some scant appearances to escort Eve into the ring where she can use guns, lots and lots and lots of guns, plus a bunch of knives too. Kitchen utensils including stacks of dish ware along with pots and pans.  Grenades to tape inside an goon’s mouth.  There’s also a flame thrower and to counteract against another flame thrower, there’s a fire hose.  

Ballerina takes a break acknowledgment when a flat screen appears behind Eve to quickly show the channels change from the slapstick beatings by The Three Stooges and then over to a Looney Tunes short.  Get the idea?

If there’s a story, it’s not even a full one note.  Gabriel Byrne is the distinguished Chancellor who Eve has a target for.  Despite his armada of endless assassins that come from every corner of the screen, and maybe they leap off from Lilo & Stitch playing in the theater next door, The Chancellor demands that Eve’s controller known as The Director (Anjelica Huston) call off her underling’s agenda.  Clearly though, Eve is under no one’s control.

Ballerina is high stakes action, and you get what you pay for.  However, I’d also pay for the 64 oz porter house and my middle age body will plead with me to slow down my pace before my gastrointestinal system implodes.  Every morsel of this movie is great and terrifically assembled but man is it an overindulging two hours and four minutes of slashing, shooting, exploding, breaking, crunching, pounding, punching, elbowing, kneeing, kicking, choking and strangling.  You drown in the beefy mayhem.

This actioner plays like a combat video game.  Drawn out fight sequences happen in one setting.  Then, Eve traverses to another location and the violence resumes.  It amuses me how Eve will do a number on one bad guy and once he’s permanently put away, only then does the next guy enter.  Wash, rinse, repeat. Whoa!!!! Here’s the next guy and then the next and next thereafter.  No one thug walks in to interrupt a one-on-one fight until Eve’s current opponent is put down with a bullet to the head or a grenade in the mouth or a flame thrower scorching.

It’s fun.  Yes.  However, there is a character that Eve encounters played by Norman Reedus, and I told Miguel later that I could not recall what his final fate was when we last left him in the picture.  I truly forgot that he’s a proud dad to a nine-year-old girl.  I mean, I truly forgot there was a little girl who was seen earlier in the movie.  I don’t even recall Reedus’ pertinence to the film. My mind was so paralyzed of thought process with the action overdose, that the few minute details there are, have escaped my short-term memory. I must have been suffocating in the fast-moving edits of the fight choreography and ballistic weaponry at play.  

After the film ended and considering what I know was left off with last year’s John Wick 4, I inquired of Miguel to piece together when this movie took place.  He looked it up.  I pondered for a millisecond at best, before I finally concluded it makes no difference.  Finally, after the production expended every penny on the last stunt man extra, the movie stops and the credits roll. Time to escape to the peaceful tranquility of my home.

The settings for Ballerina are marvelous and truly worthy of an Art Design Oscar.  I loved running up and down staircases and through underground corridors with Eve leading the way.  A snowy, mountaintop village occupies all of the action in the second part of the film, beginning in the saloon/dining hall, then going upstairs, then out a window, or three, and all over.  Director Len Wiseman cuts in great close ups of Ana de Armas in intense black leather with her hair in a neat ponytail.  Keanu Reeves is granted his own well-placed shots too.  

Wiseman also gets overhead shots to see the twisted stone walkways and stairwells of this area and where they navigate towards.  There are cuts to what comes around the corner and what’s thrust through doorways and windows, or down from the ceilings and rooftops.  It’s maddening and precisely cut.  The editing is superb despite how overstimulating all of the action becomes.  Eventually, you want to say “Oy!  Enough already!”

The script for Ballerina can’t be more than five pages.  It’s short on dialogue and what stands out to me is after Eve has set the whole town on fire and dispatched about three-thousands of The Chancellor’s militia, does his top henchman approach him and request to “Give the order!”  Buddy, after all this, if you have to ask, then this must be your first rodeo.  The Chancellor clearly overpaid for your services.

Ballerina is the female equivalent of the John Wick franchise.  Ana de Armas stands where Keanu Reeves stood for four pictures thus far.  If you’ve seen his four entries in this series, then you’ve seen Ballerina.  

Is it entertaining? Yes.  Is it mind numbing? After fifteen minutes? Definitely!  Do the filmmakers serve the product that was promised? Absolutely!  However, how does that ginormous porter house steak feel when it’s still lodged in your gut two hours later, and on until sunrise?

BOBBY (2006)

By Marc S. Sanders

There’s the distinguished doorman who is retired now but returns each day to play chess with a colleague in the hotel lobby.  There’s the open-minded girl who is inspired to prevent a young man from getting drafted into the Vietnam War by marrying him.  Her hairdresser is married to the hotel manager, who happens to be having an affair with the beautiful switchboard operator.  As well, the dining manager is a bigot who will deny his Mexican employees enough time to leave work and exercise their right to vote.  A busboy will have no choice but to miss what will likely be Don Drysdale record breaking sixth shut out game in a row.  A drunken night club performer can hardly stand up straight while she is completely dismissive of her caring husband.  A wealthy man is ready to introduce his trophy wife to an eventful evening in modern politics.  Two young campaign workers sneak away to drop acid for the first time.  A black man is at a loss following the recent assassination of Dr. King. Though he has hope that at least Bobby Kennedy will uphold his faith for a promising future in America for African Americans to carry equal rights. 

So, what does any of this have to do with Robert F Kennedy?  Not much I’m afraid.  Writer/Director and star Emilio Estevez tells us that all of these stories occur in the Ambassador Hotel on the fateful night when the Senator was assassinated in the hotel kitchen by Sirhan Sirhan.  In Bobby, the only character that is not a character is Bobby Kennedy and that is unfortunate.  More to the point, all of these short stories and other characters are precisely boring.

Estevez committed himself to grinding out stories that occur in the Ambassador that would lead up to Kennedy’s tragic death.  He’s admitted that they are all fictional. Based on his research and photographs, these characters are very loosely inspired by those that were there that night.  Before gathering in the ballroom to hear Kennedy’s victory speech after winning the California primary, these people were going through own personal ordeals.  If Emilio Estevez was not so personally inspired and researched in Robert Kennedy’s purpose to American history and politics, then perhaps Arthur Hailey (Hotel, Airport) would have pieced together this script of anecdotes and vignettes.

I commend Estevez’ efforts here.  The film looks great and even though the Ambassador was being demolished at literally the same time as this film was being shot, the scenic designs are very authentic.  The cast is even more impressive as the director reunites with many co-stars that he’s worked with before including Demi Moore, Anthony Hopkins, Christian Slater and his real-life father Martin Sheen, a lifelong loyalist to the Kennedy family.  The “importance” of this movie seems to sell itself.  Yet, everything is incredibly mundane and of little interest.  When your cast and your characters are just items on a grocery list to check off, there’s not much that’s interesting beyond the coupons.

The juicy gossip that surrounds the real-life actors is more captivating. Estevez cast Ashton Kutcher (Demi Moore’s real-life husband at the time) to play the drug dealer who provides acid to the campaign workers (Shia LeBeouf, Brian Geraghty).  Moore is also Estevez’ ex-girlfriend.  Yet, to watch Kutcher, LeBeouf and Geraghty experience an acid trip with weird visions they see when they open a bedroom closet is unfunny and not captivating.  Emilio Estevez is not living up to the Coen Brothers (The Big Lebowski).

A tryst with the boss (William H Macy) and his young, attractive and naïve switchboard operator (Heather Graham) is nauseatingly hokey.  The aged wife who works in the hotel salon (Sharon Stone) turns it all into squeamish soap opera tripe.

Bobby has an alarming opening.  A false alarm fire call is wrapping up at the Ambassador Hotel and you may feel like you are entering the middle of a panic storm, but things quickly calm down and the film resorts to cookie cutter editing to introduce its all-star cast.  None of what they say matters.  This is a game of who you can recognize.  Joshua Jackson, Nick Cannon, Harry Belafonte, and eventually the guy with the most significant role, Laurence Fishburne, is given his moment, the best scene of the whole film.  Fishburne is the kitchen chef who allegorically uses his creations in cuisine to compare the black man’s experience to the brown man’s, or Mexican. 

Having finished a trip to Martha’s Vineyard, I wanted to show my wife the under-the-radar and captivating film, Chappaquiddick, which covers Ted Kennedy’s personal story of controversy.  (My review of that film is on this site.) To continue on the Kennedy parade, we were motivated to follow up with Bobby.  Yet, this picture offers very little to the significance of Senator Robert F Kennedy.  There are samples of news reports complete with Cronkite.  Plus, the Senator’s own words ring through the epilogue of the picture.  Yet, I felt cheated of learning nothing new about the historical figure. 

Reader, you may tell me to kick dirt and go find another movie or read a book.  Fair!  However, this is film is called Bobby, and if I’m not going to learn about Bobby Kennedy from the man himself, then allow me to get to know the man through the eyes of these individuals.  Who hates him?  Who loves him? Who has a crush on him?  Who is inspired by him?  Who wants him dead and why? 

Estevez’ script does not allow enough material to describe what Kennedy meant to these campaign workers or hotel workers or guests.  They are primarily self-absorbed in their own personal battles to think enough about the fact that Bobby Kennedy is expected to make an appearance later this evening.  Again, their personal concerns for each other is very dull.  I don’t want to be around a drunk and obnoxious Demi Moore.  I don’t want to drop acid with some guys who hide behind a façade for caring about the candidate they are supposed to be serving.  I feel sorry for the busboy who will miss that big game, but that’s not enough to get me engaged in the entirety of the picture.

Bobby lends very little to the confusing times of the late sixties when an unwinnable war was persisting and championed leaders were being killed for others’ agendas.  Any of these stories could have been yanked from this script and slotted into a disaster flick like The Poseidon Adventure or The Towering Inferno. 

Bobby only picks up momentum when it arrives at its end that many of us learned about in school or witnessed firsthand in documentaries or directly from that very sad and unfortunate evening, June 4, 1968.  This day in history is so much more important than a Helen Hunt character trying to convince her Martin Sheen husband to let her buy a new pair of black shoes.  Bobby Kennedy deserves more recognition than what Emilio Estevez offered.

INSOMNIA

By Marc S. Sanders

Insomnia is an unusual kind of crazed killer pursuit because the hero is initially implied to be compromised, and before the first act of the picture ends, we see that he truly is not as noble as he is described.  This Christopher Nolan film, one of the few that neither he nor his brother Jonathan wrote, is headlined by three Oscar winners and they beautifully absorb this insightful script from writer Hillary Seitz.

Al Pacino is a celebrated Los Angeles Detective named Will Dormer.  When we see him arriving aboard a propeller plane into the foggy town of Night Mute, Alaska with his partner Hap Eckart (Martin Donovan), he looks weary and worn out.  Greeted with warm welcomes by a fan of his is Ellie Burr (Hilary Swank) and his old friend Chief Nyback (Paul Dooley).  Will has been special requested to investigate the murder of a young girl found in a trash heap, strangled to death.  Happenings like this do not occur often in Night Mute.  So, it is best to use the assistance of an expert.

Right away, Will is ready to get to work by visiting the girl’s boyfriend at school.  What he doesn’t realize is that it is ten o’clock at night. At this time of year, a midnight sun lasts twenty-four hours over this little getaway.  After he’s had a chance to investigate the victim’s body and go over the autopsy notes, the discovery of her bookbag leads to the prime suspect, mystery writer Walter Finch (Robin Williams).  A raid on his home near the beach is initiated and it does not go as planned.  Will screws up while chasing down the guy who gets away. 

While it seems that with some cover up, Will can keep his terrible error in judgment to himself, Walter knows everything. Now, with taunting phone calls in the middle of broad sunlit evenings, Will’s insomnia is becoming a hinderance as he tries to do his job while suppressing his own personal guilt and egregious acts.

The duality of Pacino versus Williams is reminiscent of Eastwood against Malkovich in In The Line Of Fire.  It works very well especially because of the departure that Robin Williams takes from his usual fare.  Ironically, he portrayed another creepy guy in the year of this release with a movie called One Hour Photo.  Williams is just a different kind of cut from Al Pacino and that’s why their conflict works well.  Pacino’s gruff tone, which is all too familiar within the second half of his career, has a roughness against the smooth and calm demeanor that Robin Williams relies on with his dialogue.  Walter Finch appears relaxed, rested and neat.  Will Dormer is wrinkled, tired, and lonely with guilt.  This killer has an inescapable edge over the cop, and thus Insomnia stands apart from the other fare of its time from the likes of Fincher, Demme or the Scott brothers’ respective films.

Christopher Nolan captures a creepy and uncomfortable setting for an environment bright with daylight amid a corner of the world that still embraces the nature of Earth.  He is thorough explorer with his go-to director of photography, Wally Pfister.  Clouds and the blurs of fogs keep moments unclear.  The sun blaring through windows is disorienting.  You can also feel the chill of Alaska, even if you are like me and have never visited the state. 

Though the film was primarily shot in Canada, there are amazing bluish/white overhead shots of snow-capped mountains and expansive rocky lakes surrounded by green woods.  A foot chase midway through the picture uses this unusual environment as Dormer chases after Finch across an expanse of floating logs that trap him underwater.  As Pacino desperately looks for an opening to the surface, Nolan really makes you feel like you are drowning amid this unexpected trap.  (Try to watch Insomnia on with at least a 5.0 surround sound.)

Hilary Swank’s role appears like a forgettable partner early on, but her significance opens up later in the story as more is revealed.  I look at her character of Ellie and it occurs to me that a theme of mentorship builds the backdrop of Insomnia.  Ellie has studied Will’s most famous cases and he’s much like a celebrity in her presence.  Finch is a well-known author that built a connection with the murder victim who avidly read his novels.  This film is a good reference to the adage that perhaps it is best to never meet your heroes.

I was very surprised by the directions that Insomnia takes, and quite early on.  There are unexpected moments that occur very quickly after the exposition is covered.  Nolan’s film is not a carbon copy of the tough cop working to nab the intelligent killer that’s on the loose.  Bodies do not just turn up before the final showdown, and the office Captain does not unleash on the detective threatening to pull him from this case.  What you observe in Insomnia is not what you have seen a thousand times before. 

Will Dormer is in an unsolvable conundrum of doing the right thing, but can he afford to surrender to his own misgivings after a decorated thirty-year career?  I could not predict how he would get himself out of this situation where Walter Finch, his antagonist, has got the clear advantage. 

Insomnia is a well thought out script superbly brought to vision by Christopher Nolan.  A thinker’s thriller.

NOTE: It’s a nice touch to call Pacino’s character “Dormer” which in French and Latin means “to sleep.”

MEMENTO

By Marc S. Sanders

Christopher Nolan’s Memento was Oscar nominated for his screenplay, adapted from a short story by his brother Jonathan, as well as for editing.  You’d be hard pressed to find a better example that lives up to the merits of these categories because without the inventive storytelling and how it’s cut together, Memento would not be so memorable.  

Guy Pearce plays Leonard, but he distinctly remembers that only his wife called him Lenny.  We observe him in two different narratives.  A black and white collection of scenes has him in a hotel room chatting on the phone with an unknown caller.  In modern color, Leonard is wearing a tan suit and driving a dusty Jaguar while traipsing from one place to another.  He’s trying to make progress with uncovering who murdered his wife.  The scenes in color though must be shown in reverse.  In other words, a scene is shown, then it will cut to Leonard back on the phone, and then another scene is revealed showing what occurred literally just prior to the last color scene we saw.

It must be done this way so we can be just as discombobulated as Leonard.  He suffers from a condition where he has no short term memory.  Therefore, if Leonard learns something or meets someone or arrives at a location, he’ll soon forget anything he just encountered minutes ago.  

While he pursues the mystery of his wife’s killer, Leonard tattoos his flesh with notes to help guide him when his short attention span can’t. He also takes instant Polaroids of people he meets and the places he goes.  As quick as he can, he’ll jot a note on the photos to aid him as he carries on.

Memento starts at the end of the story and when the film concludes, the viewer arrives at the beginning.  Perhaps the beginning will explain the end that was shown almost two hours before.

Christopher Nolan had a small budget to work with and the California city locales are nothing dazzling.  There’s little to offer with special effects as well.  So, it is impressive that he uses Jonathan’s idea to create a mystery we want to see resolved where the information we get seems to erase itself as quickly as it is told.

Leonard can’t remember anyone he’s recently met, but oddball cases like Teddy (Joe Pantoliano) and Natalie (Carrie-Anne Moss) certainly remember him.  Are these folks working with Leonard or against him?  Even with seeing the ending first, I could never spoil anything, and you’ll find it hard to decipher what these are these characters’ best interests.  

Nolan exercises some neat visuals to keep you on track.  We see a broken car window before we see how it got shattered.  Leonard can’t recall how that happened.  Leonard is also unable to remember why a bar patron is chuckling at him.  Christopher Nolan maintains well placed book marks to aid the viewer in this story that makes an effort at throwing off its protagonist as well as the audience.

What also helps is that when all the secrets are revealed, at least to the viewer, it’s a pretty solid crime set up that does not come off like a stale Murder, She Wrote episode.  It’s clever, tricky and unexpected.

Guy Pearce is really good in his role that eventually reveals some duality, but that’s where I’ll stop.  Carrie-Anne Moss always seems questionable, but what’s her agenda?  Joe Pantoliano is the sleazy guy with the mustache.  So why is he always turning up in Leonard’s way?

Like his future efforts to come, Christopher Nolan layers his films in great depths of dimension.  It never stops thinking. Often, he answers a riddle with one or two or three more conundrums.  What’s especially appreciative is that he eventually reaches a final answer to all of his questions.  Still, that doesn’t mean he ever would want you to stop thinking about what you ascertained from Memento.

FOLLOWING

By Marc S. Sanders

A young filmmaker scraped up six thousand dollars to make a short movie clocking in at just over an hour called Following.  The writer/director is Christopher Nolan.  While he may have been very limited on resources, his reach for imagination was already infinite at the start of his career.  Following is…well…challenging to follow, and I had to watch it twice to grasp the novel curves in time jumps and twists.  However, on my second go round I enthusiastically applaud its brilliance.  The wrap up to this short film is genius.

Gone for nearly fifty years, Alfred Hitchcock’s attempts at pursuing the questionable temptations that people undergo remain wholly intriguing.  His movies are still watched, studied, referenced, and duplicated.  Most importantly, they inspire filmmakers like Christopher Nolan.  Following leaps into its story with parallels from Rear Window and then segues into brief encounters like Strangers On A Train commits.  Mischief is at play which gradually develops into deceit and maybe murder.

Nolan makes an hour and ten minutes feel like a breezy fast moving two hours.  The script for Following throws a lot of information at you at a fast pace, which is something the famed director continued to do with the majority of his later films.  It’s to your advantage to stay alert and explore what’s shown in every frame.  Much of what comes at you will circle back for a twist or two.

Bill (Jeremy Theobold) is an unemployed writer who occupies his time by simply shadowing random people going about their lives within the streets of London.  There’s no particular reason for his behavior.  He relays to an older man that perhaps he’ll learn or become inspired by what he sees people do during their day-to-day business.  

A man in a suit carrying a large tote bag (Alex Haw) becomes Bill’s latest observation.  Bill keeps his distance and follows the man into a cafe.  As the man gets up to leave, he makes a surprising stop at Bill’s table.  He calls himself Cobb, and he has an unusual habit of his own.

Cobb demonstrates to Bill how he takes interest in learning about random people by entering their flats when they are not home.  He’s not there to necessarily burglarize.  Though he will tease the owners by planting a pair of women’s panties in their laundry or emptying their little box of knick knacks on the desk.  Maybe he’ll hide one earring to turn up later. In particular, he shows Bill how much you can learn about people by looking at how they keep their home, what they collect or what they furnish the place with.  So, how about the gentlemen pop the cork on a bottle of wine and have a chat while they stay a while.

These two strangers build a warped kind of mentality for this behavior, but as Bill becomes more natural at what Cobb has introduced him to, so do the risks become more apparent.

Following has some unusual ideas; the kind that are perverted enough to only see in the movies.  If I were to meet guys like Bill or Cobb at a bar and they started telling me of their derring do, I might excuse myself as subtly as possible.  In Christopher Nolan’s film though, I’m intrigued of what these men gain or how they entrap themselves.  

On occasion, it is hard to follow where the film turns its attention.  There are time jumps that come out of nowhere.  We see Bill with a different haircut.  At another time he has cuts on his face.  His wardrobe is different. Because of the small budget, the editing and cinematography must have suffered making these time jumps feel seamless.  So, on my first watch I was confused and wondered if the movie had some scenes cut or if I dozed off while watching it.  Then again, this is Christopher Nolan who is notorious for not keeping a straight and narrow narrative.  His well-known movies like Memento, Interstellar or Oppenheimer have all of his best tools at play to emulate different periods of time.  Following is presented in black and white and so it’s a challenge to focus on where you are in the story and where you left off.

The second time I watched the movie, it was much clearer to bridge everything together and you recognize when one twist occurs at the halfway mark followed by something else until it reaches its fascinating conclusion where every prop you see or line that was uttered serves their ulterior motives.

Following is a thrilling play on your thought process where one character might be performing a cruel sleight of hand on another.  Do not trust anything you see or hear.

Currently, Following is on You Tube and streaming on TUBI, but I had to watch with some limited commercial interruptions.  I encourage you to deal with it because Christopher Nolan’s first film shows some of the storytelling tricks he’s most appreciated for.  What you see in Memento, The Prestige or Inception was attempted early on with Following.  It was not as flashy, but it was just as inventive and brainy.

At just over an hour, Following is that perfect story to watch just after you’ve crawled under the covers and turned off the lights.  It’s a thrilling bedtime story.

TIGHTROPE

By Marc S. Sanders

The most recognizable cop Clint Eastwood portrayed is of course Dirty Harry Callahan, San Francisco’s finest.  Tightrope introduces a different kind of policeman though.  Wes Block covers New Orleans, and he balances the seedy underworld of crime in and around the French Quarter while being a single dad to two preteen daughters (the elder one played by Eastwood’s real life child Alison Eastwood).

There’s a serial killer on the loose whose victims of choice are ladies who work in the sex industry.  A skeleton in Wes’ closet is his penchant for getting involved in the world of kinky sex for satisfaction.  This killer seems to follow closely behind Wes’ investigation and his personal trysts.  Best he knows about this creep is he wears tennis shoes and he’s likely a Caucasian.  If Wes didn’t know any better, he could be as likely a suspect as the mayor.

Tightrope is a surprising film considering Eastwood’s resume in the nineteen seventies through eighties.  Usually, his tough, quiet persona never emulated weakness or questionable morals pertaining to rough sexual treatment of women.  Tightrope is not an action picture, but it implies ugly portraits of victimization for women.  It does not hold back on the nudity or the peril that the killer’s victims find themselves in.  It’s an uneasy crime thriller that does not compromise.  

On the flip side of Wes Block’s kinky obsessions is a genuine relationship he begins with a woman named Beryl (Geneviève Bujold). She specializes in helping women protect themselves from rape attacks as well as recovery.  The two have a good chemistry that begins with different interests with sex crimes. Later, they find a mutual appreciation for one another.  Wes might carry shame and fault, but considering Beryl’s background she might be the only grown woman who understands his personal demons.

What I like about this section of the story is that Wes and Beryl’s relationship does not rush itself.  He has an armor that covers his weakness.  She has a bold strength and will not be intimidated.  In order for them to connect, they’ll need to alter their nature when it comes to affection and respect.

There’s also a good dynamic with the two daughters.  To watch Clint Eastwood try to maintain composure while explaining a hard on to his youngest daughter is both hilarious but also stands for another conflict for this protagonist with a checkered background.  This is a different kind comedy routine than his prior connections with an orangutan or a bulldog named Meat Head.

I like that his older daughter played by Alison Eastwood offers empathy with little dialogue.  A great moment has her lie down on her father’s back while he’s in an anguished, drunken stupor. A young girl lending comfort to her pained father.

Eastwood lends a convincing portrayal of guy dealing with personal torment as both a parent and a cop.  The more he digs into what makes this psycho tick the more he seems to endanger what could be another victim for prey and even his own children, plus Beryl.

Writer/director Richard Tuggle captures great location shots of New Orleans along Bourbon Street and within the French Quarter, sometimes celebratory and frequently frighteningly lurid.  Jazz trumpets deliver an atmospheric soundtrack.  A lot of cuts, edits and photographic shots seem reminiscent of Eastwood’s techniques. It would not be surprising, especially since he’s a producer, if he sat in the chair behind the camera to bring the film to completion.

Tightrope is a slow burn potboiler with convincingly ugly material.  It’s disturbing but wholly engaging with different reasons for a familiar Clint Eastwood to quietly brood.  The suspense and frustration build as the danger heightens.  This is the kind of movie you watch after midnight when the rest of the household has gone to bed.