(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!”
(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.)
(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.
(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.
(Hulu/Freeform/VOD)? One of my favorite undersung TV shows of the last decade was PLEASE LIKE ME, a delightfully reflective queer Australian TV drama which introduced many folks to Josh Thomas and Hannah Gadsby. (It’s now available on Hulu.) Josh Thomas is now the showrunner of EVERYTHING’S GOING TO BE OKAY, on Freeform of all places, which positions him as the caretaker of his two teenage half-sisters after their widowed father dies.
While Thomas was the focal point of PLEASE LIKE ME, he takes a few steps back here. EVERYTHING’S GOING TO BE OKAY is primarily about his sisters, with the older sister trying to navigate teen life and her autism and the younger living in the shadow of so much grief.
However, like PLEASE LIKE ME, the show never wallows in sadness, and there are frequent moments of joy and warmth, as well as a fair number of laughs. I watched the last few episodes of the first season during the first lockdown and found it to be quite the balm. Perhaps you may, too. If all goes well, we’ll have a second season to look forward to.
Update (September 25th, 2021): Unfortunately, shortly after the second season finished airing, Freeform canceled the show, so two seasons is all we get.
(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.
(Fubo/hoopla/kanopy/VOD) Kathy, a struggling Asian-American single mom travels with Cody, her pre-teen son, to settle the affairs of her dead sister’s estate. While there, the son befriends an aging-but-able Vietnam veteran, who welcomes them into his small town.
While it’s a standard indie film premise, DRIVEWAYS excels in a number of ways, first and foremost by having Brian Dennehy (RIP, Brian — I’ll never forget you in THE BELLY OF AN ARCHITECT) as the neighbor, secondly by having a simple human story play out simply and, lastly, how it’s visually framed — lots of tight shots instead of expository shots, which are disarming for the first half of the film until it settles into a familiar sort of comfort.
While Dennehy is fantastic, I’d be remiss to neglect both Hong Chau (WATCHMEN’s Lady Trieu) and Lucas Jaye as the mother-and-son pair, who have an exquisitely honest mother/son relationship. Chau is especially brilliant as she tries to compose herself as everything around her is falling apart.
All of that said, my favorite part of the film is how much everyone swears around this kid.
It’s a film filled with melancholy, but is also a very sweet slice of life.
(Starz/VOD) Adapted from detective fiction writer Charles Willeford’s novel, this film is oddly not much of a potboiler, and not terribly thrilling. It does, however, attempt to examine critic-as-artist and vice-versa, as well as the different masks one wears in order to operate in order to ingratiate yourself to others in society, which gives it the trappings of a prestige neo-noir.
To summarize: art critic James Figueras (Claes Bang) hooks up with an enigmatic woman named Berenice (Elizabeth Debicki) and the two of them go on a road trip to visit his friend/art dealer Joseph Cassidy (Mick Jagger — yes, Mick Jagger). James is handed the possibility to reinvigorate his career by scoring an interview with the reclusive ‘last great modern artist’ Jerome Debney (Donald Sutherland), who just happens to live on Joseph’s Italian estate. Plans misfire culminating with an end that you may or may not enjoy. (That said, the final realization is extremely satisfying and, I imagine, taken from the book.)
As this is a ‘prestige’ genre flick, director Giuseppe Capotondi takes it slow, giving you all the time in the world to revel in the fantastic backdrops and production design* while the characters talk circles around each other. It is a nice distraction because the mysteries and secrets aren’t terribly intriguing, and the characters are maddeningly paper thin. While the film is explicit about its themes of critic-as-artist/artist-as-critic/the many masks folks wear, the execution is rather facile, and rarely paid much more than lip service. For example: Debney bluntly states to Bernice that “It’s masks all the way down.”
It’s disappointing because novelist/screenwriter Scott B. Smith (A SIMPLE PLAN, THE RUINS) penned the adaptation, and he certainly has a tendency towards noir-like duplicity and the ramifications of distrust, but there is very little friction or underhandedness on display. It feels as if Smith couldn’t quite get a bead on how to approach the adaptation.
However! This film does scratch a certain itch for me and, despite the wasted potential of Bernice, Debecki wrings as much out of it as she can, and Jagger is a delightful surprising, turning in a restrained devilish performance that — as someone who has seen FREEJACK — didn’t think he had it in him. Worth a watch if your tastes are THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY-adjacent.
(VOD) In January 2020, I had just watched FORD V. FERRARI at a cineplex in Evanston, Illinois as part of my obligatory Oscar viewing, and I had some downtime before I was due to meet up with my wife to watch 1917. I exited the theater and noted the poster for UNDERWATER on my right. “Well,” I asked myself. “I could eat popcorn for dinner again and squeeze this film in, or I could wander around town and look for a new pizza place.” Sick of popcorn, I opted to skip UNDERWATER and, while the pizza and unnerving quiet of exploring a college town in-between semesters was memorable, I have regrets because this film is best watched on a big screen, not at home.
UNDERWATER is a film that shamelessly borrows from ALIEN and THE ABYSS but, if you need a summary, here’s one: it’s about a ramshackle bunch of characters stuck in a corporate underwater mining rig that’s about to collapse upon itself due to what may or may not be some newly discovered creature. Despite that, it’s the film’s later clutch collection of set-pieces that makes it feel more inspired from videogames like BIOSHOCK, SOMA, and METROID PRIME. Cinematographer-turned-director William Eubank and cinematographer Bojan Bazelli (who shot the fascinatingly gonzo A CURE FOR WELLNESS) make this film into a visually relentless marvel; there is one scene that literally made my jaw drop and then start clapping — don’t worry, you’ll know it when you see it — but I realized I was clapping alone, and wished I’d witnessed it with a crowd, even if I’d be the only person clapping.
It helps that Kristen Stewart makes a fantastic action lead, as all of the Stewart tics that people (unfairly) complain about — her flat affect, her distanced glance, her disaffected air — also make her a great action hero. She isn’t given much to work with character-wise but she goes above and beyond to imbue it with something more meaningful. The supporting characters include T.J. Miller who, predictably, sucks up everyone’s air (and obviously improvs some terrible lines), and even tries to outshine French mainstay Vincent Cassel (LA HAINE), who is keeping it classy.
Obviously, this film was buried as production wrapped in 2017. You can visibly see that there were rewrites involved during shooting, re-edits, probably re-shoots. It wasn’t released until January 2020 and it bombed because who wants to see a underwater horror film in January? My guess is: the end tested poorly, which is understandable, but it’s a big swing that made my eyes well up and I love films that take big swings, and perhaps you do too.
(It’s worth noting that the expository dialogue in the trailer is -not- in the film, and it’s a better film without it.)