I’M YOUR WOMAN (2020)

(Prime) There’s a moment early on in Julia Hart’s (FAST COLOR) I’M YOUR WOMAN where Jean (THE MARVELOUS MRS. MAISEL’s Rachel Brosnahan), while making breakfast for her husband as their baby cries, cracks an egg into a frying pan and you can see how her nail punctures the shell, resulting in a broken egg yolk. I noticed and muttered to myself: ‘I wonder how intentional that was.’

As you might suspect, it was very intentional and turned out to lack subtlety — hell, it’s in the trailer I failed to watch beforehand — but it’s a brisk character detail.

I’M YOUR WOMAN is a 70s period piece about Jean, a young wife who has a baby literally handed off to her by her charismatic, but criminally-minded, husband. Before she’s even had time to acclimate to the baby, one of her husband’s friends rings her doorbell, tells her she has to leave her home right now, and passes her off to Cal — played by Arinzé Kene (HOW TO BUILD A GIRL) who he says will watch over her. Matters spiral from there as Jean attempts to shine light on the underworld events that fractured her life.

The film moves quickly and swiftly establishes just enough about the characters involved to keep you wanting to know more, while managing to tease you through to the end without being needlessly frustrating. That said, at times certain events can be off-putting and needlessly bleak and, for such a character-centric movie, the supporting personalities often outshine Jean and her ‘newly independent’ arc.

I hadn’t planned on recommending it upon watching it a month ago, but its smaller moments have lingered in my mind. While it I’M YOUR WOMAN doesn’t always balance its character and genre work, it’s still a noteworthy attempt in a year full of similarly high-minded crime thrillers.

ROGUE (2020)

(Hulu/VOD) If you’re a big fan of Cinemax’s short-lived pulpy action programming — I, for one, am a big fan of one-season wonder QUARRY, based on Max Allan Collins’ gritty novels. — you’re probably familiar with M.J. Bassett, the writer/director of ROGUE *, and steadfast Cinemax action creative. (Bassett also helmed SOLOMAN KANE (2009) and SILENT HILL: REVELATIONS (2012).)

If you aren’t familiar with Cinemax’s action block, which includes STRIKE BACK and BANSHEE — the former of which Bassett contributed to — you know that you’re not watching for plot, but for jaw-dropping action set-pieces, stylish gunfights, and occasional bits of counterpointing character work. ROGUE is in the same mold: Megan Fox is a gun-for-hire, paid to form an extraordinarily well-armed troop to rescue the governor’s daughter (which governor? It doesn’t matter!) from a nefarious crime ring that traffics in guns, underage girls, and giant cats. (Before becoming a director, Barrett also was a nature photojournalist, so much of ROGUE feels like a big -fuck you- to the hurt that she’s witnessed.)

Shortly after Fox’s troop rescues the daughter and a few other girls from their cages, they find themselves stranded in the wilderness, pursued by the very angry crime ring and surrounded by the vengeful lions that they accidentally ended up freeing.

From there it dials into ‘survive until sunrise’ mode and, while the locked location could drag the material down, Bassett and the cast/crew elevate it into a thrilling romp. While Fox’s performance as an action hero is a bit hit-and-miss, the supporting cast — including Philip Winchester — insert their own quirky mannerisms and bring a bit of levity to what could otherwise be a mind-numbing array of bloody deaths. There are number of quaint little scripting details, such as one dude thanking another character for a hot grenade, during a massive firefight, that also ramp up the charm in a film that other filmmakers might not think to include.

* To be clear, this is unrelated to the giant croc film ROGUE (2007) that I recommended in October.

SAINT FRANCES (2020)

(kanopy/Starz/VOD) SAINT FRANCES won me over within the first five minutes by spooning out an absolutely perfect introduction to the protagonist, her whims, persona, and obstacles. It expertly sets up the achingly human story of Bridget (writer Kelly O’Sullivan), a thirty-something Chicagoan woman working through a lot of issues while being a nanny to Frances (Ramona Edith Williams), an extraordinarily interesting misfit child.

The end result is a delight, and pairs well with PRINCESS CYD — not just because it too was shot in Chicago.

“I don’t know why I’m crying! I’m an agnostic feminist!”

ANYTHING FOR JACKSON (2020)

(AMC+/SHUDDER/VOD) ANYTHING FOR JACKSON is the rare character-forward horror film that also holds more than a few delightfully gory frights, almost to the point where it feels like it commentary on the horror community.

The premise is stock horror: grandparents Audrey (Sheila McCarthy, I’VE HEARD THE MERMAIDS SINGING) and Henry Walsh (the extremely distinctive Julian Richings, who has appeared in any genre show you’ve watched over the past decade) are grandparents who kidnap a pregnant woman to bring their grandchild back to life via black magic. However, the Walshes are more empathetic and human than most horror films would treat them, and the film takes its time peeling away the layers to detail the steps as to how the grandparents ended up making a deal with the devil.

ANYTHING FOR JACKSON was directed by Justin G. Dyck, and written by Dyck and Keith Cooper, both of whom have worked together on a number of conventional made-for-TV Christmas movies (A CHRISTMAS VILLAGE, CHRISTMAS WEDDING PLANNER), which I suspect helped them to shape this subversive horror piece, as it feels like they’re used to flexing within genre constraints in ways that will surprise you.

(I’d suggest skipping the trailer, as it spoils a few startling moments, plus it’s not exactly a finely honed teaser.)

BLOODY NOSE, EMPTY POCKETS (2020)

(kanopy/VOD) Today is New Year’s Eve 2020, so I’m recommending a documentary about the last night of a faux bar but with very real people, because of course I am.

Of everything I’ve watched this year, this is the sole film I’ve felt the most conflicted about.

My favorite solo activity is to read in bars. I’m not a gregarious person, but I like to surround myself with camaraderie, to hear people bonding, all while edifying myself because I’m a dumb nerd.

Don’t get me wrong! If someone talks to me, I’ll put my book down and indulge them — I’m not that aloof! (Although, more often than not, that’s presented more problems in the past than it’s worth, but it always bestows a story.)

The last time I indulged in a proper public outing was to drink-and-read at Andersonville fixture -Simon’s- way back in March, the week before Chicago’s lockdown. It was a Monday, I was two-thirds through Sarah Waters’ THE PAYING GUESTS, and TCM was playing on their two screens. The -Simon’s- crew had shaped a contest out of some wind-up toys, while engaging more than a few of the locals during the sleepy night. I hit my reading word count, quaffed a final drink and left, fully knowing this would probably be the last time I’d sit on one of their barstools for some time.

I watched BLOODY NOSE, EMPTY POCKETS midway through July, shortly after it was made available via VOD. By this point in time, I was fully reminiscing daily about my actual local — Jerry’s, where everyone there actually did know my name — which had already closed and re-opened as a tasty Israeli/Middle Eastern restaurant.

I’d love to say that BLOODY NOSE, EMPTY POCKETS made me wax poetic about bar families.

It did not.

This is not a fault of the doc itself, even though the doc is constructed to basically facilitate that sort of faux-bonding through many, many free drinks via centrally located bar-going folks.

It’s simply that I missed weaving my own bar narrative, of being my own editor, ‘documentary writer’. Given everything I’ve lived over the last uh, unsaid number of years, this felt like a pale copy and made me long for the real thing, which will still be a long time coming based on current vaccination numbers.

Again, not a fault of the film, and I realize my opinion is unpopular. I still highly recommend the film, because most folks experiences aren’t my own, and the experiences detailed here -are- authentic. Despite the bar being a construct, the interactions are real — it’s documenting a moment and all of the interactions occurring in that moment. The emotional heartbeats here are true, folks seeking out connections — manufactured or not — which I think is something we’re all can relate to right now.

And with that said: good riddance to 2020.

Apologies if you hoped for a proper NYE recommendation. If you really want one, you can’t go wrong with BILL & TED FACE THE MUSIC which, despite the fact that it doesn’t take place on NYE, has the best feel-good countdown of the year.

EXTRA ORDINARY (2020)

(fubo/hoopla/kanopy/Showtime/VOD) EXTRA ORDINARY is an extremely charming and winsome Irish horror-comedy about a woman named Rose (comedian Maeve Higgins) who has been bestowed with paranormal talents, which include the ability to see ghosts. Unfortunately, those powers backfired on her, resulting in the death of her father, so she swore them off and instead became a driving instructor. Unfortunately, local man Martin Martin (Barry Ward, THE END OF THE F***ING WORD) and washed up musician Christian Winter (Will Forte, MACGRUBER, THE LAST MAN ON EARTH, clearly having fun playing a villain) will severely test that resolution.

EXTRA ORDINARY could coast along on the quality of its low-key goofs and gags and be a fun hangout horror rom-com, but the overarching story (penned by the directors Mike Ahern and Enda Loughman, with contributions from Higgins) jauntily moves along and escalates into one very fun but very odd climax. Literally.

It also features several finely produced video segments that recall GARTH MERENGHI’S DARKPLACE and LOOK AROUND YOU, fully rounding out the film into a terrifically satisfying film. Sadly, it was released in the US right before lockdown, but hopefully it’ll find an audience sooner rather than later.

BLOW THE MAN DOWN (2020)

(Prime) A taut crime thriller about the women who run a small fishing town in New England, the secrets that they keep, and the two teen girls caught up in the middle after killing a man.

Writers/directors Bridget Savage Cole & Danielle Krudy (who recently co-directed two episodes of the latest THE STAND adaptation together) do wonders with their whip-smart script. They shape their words into some amazingly considered camerawork (often leaning on an array of close-ups for context instead of expository long shots), ruthless editing, and a prickly score that features a viola, piano, oddly punctuating percussion, and occasionally a few interjected shanties.

More importantly, it’s a film about community, and family, especially sisters, sisters that butt heads. It’s a raw tale and town that feels so lived in that it might as well be an re-enactment.

Oh, and the cast! Morgan Saylor (HOMELAND) plays the fuckup, closes-out-the-bar daughter Zee, while Sophie Lowe (THE RETURNED UK, ONCE UPON A TIME IN WONDERLAND) plays the responsible daughter trying to keep everything together. Classic character actor Annette O’Toole (CAT PEOPLE (1982), SMALLVILLE, HALT & CATCH FIRE) is a voice of reason, and Margo Martindale oversees matters, all while putting a slight twist on her matriarchal JUSTIFIED presence.

As small town crime genre work goes, it doesn’t get much better than this.

“Fucking coleslaw.”

JINGLE JANGLE: A CHRISTMAS JOURNEY (2020)

(Netflix) Ordinarily I’d refrain from suggesting a newly released, heavily promoted Netflix holiday film here, but I haven’t seen much discussion about JINGLE JANGLE over the last several weeks, so hopefully the following will prod you into checking it out:

I went into JINGLE JANGLE not knowing much about it except for the cast and that several critics I respect gave it high marks. Consequently, I assumed it was a slightly conventional, well-made modern Christmas film. Instead, it’s a fantastical musical that feels like an extremely successful adaptation of a pre-existing, beloved Broadway blockbuster.

To summarize: it’s the story of Jeronicus Jangle (young Jeronicus played by Justin Cornwell, old Jeronicus played by Forest Whitaker), the greatest inventor of all time and his downfall, how he lost his prior inventions — stolen from him by one of his -own inventions- and his apprentice Gustafson (young Gustafson played by Miles Barrow, old by Kegan-Michael Key) — and the loss of his family and his talent.

The years go on and Jeronicus is now a pawnbroker, instead of the head of a magical shop of wonder, but his young granddaughter Journey (who prefers to measure and build) is so enamored by the stories her mother relays that Journey schemes a way to visit him. Journey arrives two days before Christmas, two days before the bank is set to claim his store unless Jeronicus shows the bank representative (Hugh Bonneville, apparently just happy to be included) an invention that is wonderful, something revolutionary.

Yes, all of that’s relatively conventional, as are the remaining beats to the story. However, they’re all done so effortlessly cleverly that it feels like new. The storybook framing devices are visual marvels and are worked in seamlessly. Jeronicus’ shop is a marvel of production design, with exquisite attention to detail. Even the sound design’s perfect, as one of the inventions has a ‘voice’ that seems modeled after Edison’s dolls.

Then there are the musical numbers — songs by John Legend and Philip Lawrence, choreographed by THE GREATEST SHOWMAN’s Ashley Wallen — which are perhaps best shown rather than explained:

This Day:

Magic Man G:

Director/writer David E. Talbert initially penned this as a stage play, and it shows, but in the best way. It feels like he endlessly workshopped JINGLE JANGLE and came up with something that perfectly translates to the silver screen. I would definitely not be surprised to see it migrate back to the stage.

Trailer:

TESLA (2020)

(Hulu/VOD) Was the world asking for another biopic about Nicolas Tesla? No, at least I wasn’t until I heard this one was helmed by cult filmmaker Michael Almereyda (NADJA, THE ETERNAL).

Michael Almereyda’s has recruited his regulars to bring TELSA to life: Ethan Hawke is Tesla, Kyle MacLaughlin is Edison, Jim Gaffigan is Westinghouse, and there are several other established, white, male actors. Eve Hewson (THE KNICK) is J.P. Morgan’s daughter Anne, who serves as the narrator in-and-out-of-time, trying to convince the viewer how Tesla’s current ranking in the cultural consciousness is unforgivably woeful (which goes against everything I know).

While it often looks and feels like an early naughts PBS docudrama, where the re-enactors often break the fourth wall to educate the viewers through a hazy digital video lens, Almereyda ladles out numerous idiosyncrasies to try to keep the audience off-kilter, such as roller skating scenes; anachronistic ice cream cones; obvious rear-projection with intentionally misplaced lighting setups; fictional interactions where Hewson’s character then informs the viewers that the scene ‘likely didn’t happen this way’; even a full-blown musical number.

Those bits of whimsy keep the film breezily entertaining. I know if my hungover high school science teacher screened it for class one day, I’d feel like a lucky boy (although I’d expect the teacher to make the requisite number of caveats that this biopic has ‘fictional elements for dramatic effect’). Despite the (presumably intentional) cheap sheen of the biopic, the blocking and camerawork is top-notch, and no one phones in a performance. I’m especially fond of Ebon Moss-Bachrach’s (GIRLS, BLOW THE MAN DOWN) loose turn as Tesla’s right-hand man.

That said, in the age of modern re-enactments like BIZEBEE ’17 and CASTING JONBENET, it feels like TESLA isn’t formally daring enough, doesn’t push itself far enough, which is a shame as Almereyda is known for grounded weirdness. However, this film is based on his first screenplay, which may account for why the tomfoolery feels quaint, as opposed to a grand remark on the unreliable nature of recreating history. Given the times we’re currently living in, perhaps a safely odd, comfortably unreliable biopic is what you need right now.

By the way, if you’re looking for some more fact/fiction-blended Tesla works, I highly recommend Samantha Hunt’s novel THE INVENTION OF EVERYTHING ELSE.