(Netflix) Radha, a black woman living in NYC is on the verge of turning forty, re-evaluating her life as a struggling playwright, and contemplating revisiting her teen rapping aspirations.
I love a film that draws a full portrait of the protagonist immediately out of the gate and damn, the opening of this film deserves to be framed. Thankfully, the rest of the film spends its time spooling out everything that brought her to her current state, then explores how she’s trying to move forward.
Deftly shot, utilizing numerous inventive, but not gimmicky, techniques, it’s a visually sumptuous black-and-white film, but it’s the script that really shines. While the story beats are familiar, they’re very welcome, and Radha (Radha Blank, who also wrote/directed/produced VERSION) is exceptional at undercutting a scene, at penning rhymes, at acerbic comments, at maintaining a joke rate that you’d expect from a sitcom, and also finely timing the scenes. To say she’s the writerly equivalent of a triple-threat would do her on-screen performance and direction a disservice.
(hoopla/kanopy/Netflix/VOD) A delightfully filthy ‘last summer before college’ tale co-written by and starring Hannah Marks (DIRK GENTLY’S HOLISTIC DETECTIVE AGENCY, the previously mentioned I USED TO GO HERE). Marks plays April (coincidentally, also the name of her character in I USED TO GO HERE) who, after a whirlwind senior year relationship with Nick (Dylan Sprouse, as in the Sprouse that -isn’t- in RIVERDALE) — swiftly conveyed through a montage set to X-RAY SPEX’s -Obsessed With You- — the two break up. Nick rebounds with new-to-town Clara (Liana Liberato, THE BEACH HOUSE (2020)) who, much to April’s surprise, isn’t a terrible person. In fact, the two hit it off and become fast friends, despite their shared history with Nick.
It’s a winsome look at the intensity of both young love and teen friendships, earnest and honest but never too serious, and features in-jokes that are earned as opposed to a litany of pop culture riffs. First-time director Benjamin Kasulke (hard-working indie cinematographer who has shot everything from Guy Maddin’s BRAND UPON THE BRAIN to BETWEEN TWO FERNS: THE MOVIE) keeps the pace lively, embellishing bits here to wring the most from a scene, but often gets out of the way and lets Marks lead the way.
“We are going to have -one dinner- that doesn’t end in kissing fat asses or sucking dicks!”
(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.
(Netflix) Natalie Palamides’ comedy special is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Plenty will compare it to Hannah Gadsby’s NANETTE or the original theatrical production of FLEABAG, but it’s completely different; it’s extraordinarily audacious, often puerile, but always surprising and challenging. I’ll mention that it’s EXTREMELY NSFW, both aurally and visually, but if you’re okay with that, do yourself a favor and go in cold and watch to the end.
(HBO MAX/Hulu/Netflix/VOD) Yes, I know the title is terrible, and it’s exactly why I didn’t watch this show until several years ago. Sure, it’s supposed to reflect how you can still be friends with your ex, despite her leaving you at the altar, but 1) that’s not what anyone thinks of when they hear that term and 2) that’s hardly what this show is about. It’s a hangout show that’s best described as a filthy Z-grade FRIENDS. (Okay, so maybe the title is slightly representative of the show.)
The worst part of the title is its poor use of phrasing, because this show -loved- twisting phrases. If you love the Marx Bros., you will love this show. Take, for instance, the rom-com-con cold open. (Yes, I’m skipping over the racist parrot bit because no one needs that.)
Or the following what-if joke regarding Mary Tyler Moore:
However, wordplay won’t get you very far if you lack a cast that can convincingly deliver quips, and HAPPY ENDINGS had one of the great ensembles; they wrangled a melange of brilliant comedic and improv actors (Adam Pally, Eliza Coupe, Damon Wayans Jr., Casey Wilson) and straight-laced performers (Elisha Cuthbert, Zachary Knighton), all of whom brilliantly handle their ‘so smart it’s dumb/so dumb it’s smart’ banter.
Not all of the humor has aged well, like uh, the racist parrot, the ‘Dave is 1/16th Navajo’ bit, and all of the fat jokes made at Max’s (Adam Pally) expense, but it holds up better than, oh say, 30 ROCK. Also, as a resident of Chicago, I’d be remiss to note that it severely misrepresents the city layout, almost to a hilarious degree, where many of the streets and addresses simply don’t exist. (One address cited would land them in the squarely in the middle of Lake Michigan.)
Those qualifiers aside, HAPPY ENDINGS is perhaps better than any other modern sitcom at what the show calls ‘pile-ons’. Taken out of context, none of the jokes are rarely amazing, but when unfurled over a scene they build on each other, and while the first or second gag maybe elicited a slight chuckle from you, by the time the scene has ended you’re doubled-over gasping for breath and have to rewind because you couldn’t hear the final quips over the sound of your own laughter.
(hoopla/Netflix/VOD/Vudu) A ‘truth is stranger than fiction’ doc from the writer/director of GRACE about a welder, and that’s all you should know going into it. One hell of a slow burn, but I wish the film had dug deeper into his psyche.
(IMDbTV/Netflix/tubi) YOU’RE NEXT’s Adam Wingard gave us this absolutely gonzo departure for DOWNTON ABBEY star Dan Stevens. A modern THE STEPFATHER that goes balls-to-the-wall in the final act, liberally cribbing from THE LADY FROM SHANGHAI. Also features an unappreciated Lance Reddick and one hell of a moody goth soundtrack.
(Netflix/VOD) A little too aggressively idiosyncratic for my tastes, although Hosking is clearly talented and one hell of an auteur. Regardless, Matt Berry has a rather lush role, and he gets to sing some Dr. Demento-worthy songs, which made it worth my time.