Chadwick Boseman, Viola Davis are dynamite in 'Ma Rainey'

Chadwick Boseman was a special actor. It may not have been apparent to us until it was too late, but when he passed away this year it hit a lot of us like a ton of bricks. He was both a star and a terrific actor, someone who invested his roles with passion and physicality. 

Anytime there's a posthumous release from an actor there's a tendency to invest to much in them, but this year, ironically enough -- two of Boseman's best performances in Da 5 Bloods and now Ma Rainey's Black Bottom have been released to great acclaim, and I'm happy to say it's deserved.

He looks considerably frailer here than he did in Spike Lee's war film and he very well may have been struggling in his courageous fight against cancer when he shot this August Wilson adaptation. His real life challenges only add more vulnerability to Levee the character he plays here -- an ambitious but also damaged trumpet player who plays in the band of legendary blueswoman Ma Rainey in 1927.

The action -- much of it claustrophobic takes place in a rehearsal hall and recording studio -- where Rainey (played brilliantly by Davis in a performance unlike any she's ever given) and her band do verbal (and sometimes verbal) battle amid a chaotic session. Their dialogue is never just about the music -- like all of the great playwright's work its concerns grapple with the toll racism can take on everyday and exceptional lives.

The film's great flaw is that it never really rises above the sensation of being a photographed play, albeit a gorgeously photographed one. The two major exceptions are the raucous opening number and the darkly ironic final one -- a perfect ending to a film that's more complex than it first appears to be,

It's impossible not to compare this film to Fences, the last high profile Wilson adaptation, which also starred Davis is a much different type of role. That film did a better job, in my opinion, of creating a world outside the insular, talky narrative. Wilson's dialogue can be florid and dense, sensational on stage I'm sure but not a natural fit for film. 

Still, his work is like fillet mignon for talented actors -- and yet again, Davis makes a feast of it. 

Here she has totally physically transformed herself into the rough and gruff Ma Rainey -- with heavy eye make-up, a mouthful of gold teeth and raunchy disposition -- this is not the sort of kind almost recessive character we're used to seeing her play. And what a relief! Davis clearly has been itching to show more sides of her persona and this is a big powerful tour de force from her.

Her scenes opposite Boseman -- who is playing a competitor not just within the band but also for the affections of Ma Rainey's trophy girlfriend as well -- are electric, and stand as a testament to their unique power as performers.

And in the end its all so bittersweet because Boseman is gone and if nothing else this film demonstrates how much potential he had. He gives this movie his all -- perhaps he knew it would be his last -- and while the film itself is not quite a masterpiece (it feels perhaps too small scaled) it will always be a testament to its stars' talent and a reminder to never take them for granted again.

Zappa, Bee Gees both get overdue respect in respective docs

There are two very engrossing and expansive new docs on two very well known -- or so it would seem -- music acts The Bee Gees and Frank Zappa, that are definitely worth seeing.

Alex Winter, who is best known for playing Bill in the Bill & Ted movies takes on the challenging task of directing a film about Zappa (called simply, Zappa), one of the most prolific and hard to pigeonhole artists of all time. It's decidedly not a traditional documentary in the sense that it doesn't follow a strict chronology or walks us through his oeuvre album by album.

Instead the film's preoccupation is Zappa's complex musicianship and brutal work ethic rather than the full depth and breadth of his career, which can make it kind of a frustrating watch for the uninitiated or even the somewhat initiated. You get the sense that he was a deeply committed artist, to a fault, and a pretty closed off, even cold person -- but the music is unique and his unwillingness to compromise this vision is admirable.

Because Zappa is gone, the film has to rely a lot of the people who lived with him and played alongside him. The interviews are solid, but the footage of Zappa himself -- as irascible as he was -- is the highlight of the film. His crusade against record censorship, for instance, comes across quite well. 

I left the movie appreciating his music more, but wishing the film had more of a cohesive center (it feels very haphazard, which perhaps the point) and some emphasis on the joy  -- if there was any -- in his efforts, rather than all the many thinks that made him cantankerous. Frankly, Zappa comes off as a bit of pompous grump -- albeit an immensely talented one.

On the other hand, The Bee Gees: How Can You Bend a Broken Heart, is a much more emotionally accessible film. It has an aura of sadness about it, not just because two of members of the band (plus their younger brother Andy) have all died, leaving Barry Gibb as the lone voice from the family -- but because the band was unfairly viewed simply as a disco act, when their career was much longer and far more complicated.

You walk away from this film with not just an appreciation of their one of kind voices, but their songwriting artistry (they were behind Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers' hit "Islands in the Stream"). You recognize that they were far more respected by their peers than people realized. They're also far more likable and self aware than Zappa was.

This film does what the best musical biopics do -- it puts you at the center of their creativity, shows you how they developed their signature sound (the reveal of how "Staying Alive" was conceived is riveting) and effectively conveys the emotional feelings their music inspired.

I've become an enormous, almost obsessive fan in recent years -- they're one of those artists that you know all the hits but you may not have really paid close attention to the lyrics of talent of the Gibbs themselves. And, sadly, they became a victim of their own success.

The most telling moment comes during the infamous "Disco Sucks" debacle in 1979 during a White Sox game. An anti-disco DJ led a cruel event where disco records were to be destroyed, but the film reveals that most of records being destroyed that day were by black artists -- and the Bee Gees, while white, were very much viewed as validating that culture.

To their credit they take great pains to pay homage to the black artists who inspired them, and this movie should inspire you, to seek out more of their work.

'First Cow' is the kind of beautifully made fable I admire

 

First Cow is the kind of movie film critics adore. It's slow as molasses, it's decidedly unglamorous and its meticulous attention to period details (it's set in the nondescript 1820s) show that it was made with a great deal of care and consideration. 

I approached it begrudgingly -- it has made virtually every best of 2020 critics' list but I was worried I'd find it a bore. I am not fully up to speed on writer-director Kelly Reichardt's oeuvre. I saw her Michelle Williams film Wendy and Lucy and remembered finding it effective but also slight.

I am happy to saw that First Cow is a very beautiful piece of filmmaking, if not an endlessly entertaining one. It feels like a fable or a thoughtfully rendered short story and its disarming in its simplicity and its heart.

Part of what draws you into the story is its unconventional heroes. I can't remember the last time I saw a film with leading men this -- gentle. There are no macho Revenant-style heroics in this movie. Just a soft spoken, put-upon cook nicknamed Cookie (played by John Magaro, who resembles a less twitchy Shia LaBeouf) who befriends a Chinese immigrant on the run named King-Lu.

The two men through a set of random circumstances end up going into business with each other selling delicious biscuits that become a big hit in the local town marketplace. The only trouble is they're made with milk they've been stealing by a cow owned by Chief Factor, a wealthy Englishman.

That simple transgression, made out of necessity and ingenuity, winds up spelling the two heroes doom -- which is foreshadowed by a haunting opening that takes place in present. 

The rest of the film is mostly gorgeously photographed atmosphere with an obtrusive score. Dirty, well-worn faces captured against an unforgiving landscape. There is an unspoken, almost sexual tension between Cookie and King-Lu that's interesting. And the movie ends on a jarring, abrupt note that doesn't fully sink in until you reconsider the film's opening.

All in all, this is the kind of film I like to I really admire more than I enjoyed it. It's certainly a change of pace to have leads who are more reserved and recessive, but sometimes that can make a movie feel a little monotone.

There are certain no big performances or flashy moments in First Cow. It's a very quiet, contemplative movie which may or may not be your cup of tea.

Still, with the world outside cinemas full of bombast and quite frankly absurdism right now, there is something refreshing about a story preoccupied with themes like kindness and class.

It'll almost certainly not win any awards love next year if for no other reason because it did nothing commercially and is so aggressively indie arthouse that it will never get enough an audience to be in the conversation and it's not the kind of film I see myself watching over and over again.

But the craft and sensitivity of the filmmaking here is undeniable.

 

'Dick Johnson is Dead' is both heartwarming and heartbreaking

The covd-19 pandemic has forced a lot of us to reckon with death. And the reality of my parents aging has hit home more and more. So watching the Netflix documentary Dick Johnson is Dead was an emotional experience for me. The film is about trying learn how to accept the inevitability of death -- and yet it's sort of a light comedy except for when it isn't.

The film is directed by Johnson's daughter Kirsten, who serves as the narrator and as the ringmaster of an elaborate project. She hires stuntmen and stages elaborate (and very real looking) fake death scenes involving her dad, to sort of soften the blow of the very real decline of her father.

Dick Johnson, who appears to be an incredibly genial and gentle man, is suffering from dementia and has already had several close calls, and yet, he seems to be incredibly good natured and is a good sport about the project, committing to playing dead repeatedly.

Tragically, he and his daughter have already lived through the deterioration of his wife -- whose body and mind collapsed. Courageously, Kirsten has decided to document her father before he has taken an irreversible turn for the worst.

The result makes for a very sad movie that is punctuated with joyous fantasy sequences and adorable charm. In a way the film is like death itself -- it's never not upsetting but it can also be reflective and even a little regenerative.

The production values are good but the movie has a ramshackle, homemade quality which makes it feel deeply personal, but it's also pretty universal. 

We all have ebullient people in our lives like Dick Johnson, people we couldn't imagine ever losing and what this film does is remind you how fleeting moments with these can be (especially at the end) and the movie makes a literal and philosophical case for making the most of your time this person before it's too late.

I'll admit I had been sort of afraid to watch it, having been broadly familiar with the premise. But it's really rewarding viewing and a special film for this strange time we've living in.

It's poignant finale is unbelievably moving, gut wrenching even -- but it's never manipulative or self-indulgent. It's transcendent. 

'Mank' is a masterfully made but somewhat stagnant drama

Your patience with David Fincher's new biopic Mank will depend a lot on your interest in the history of classic Hollywood and the politics of pre-WWII America. Lucky for me, I have an interest in both but I am not sure the movie will be as engrossing to the broader audiences. 

Perhaps, the film's fatal flaw is that its titular hero -- legendary screenwriter Herman Mankiewicz -- isn't a particularly compelling or charismatic one. Gary Oldman is a great actor, even a legendary one but he's miscast here -- far too old and one note -- for me, at least. Michael Stuhlbarg would have been perfect for this. Although, Oldman is very good at playing soused. We are all meant to understand that Mankiewicz was a genius screenwriter, and for fans of Citizen Kane that's clear, but the film simply repeatedly reinforces two character traits: his alcoholism and withering sarcasm. 

Far more successful are the color characters who circle around him -- a note perfect Amanda Seyfried as Marion Davies (the trophy wife of William Randolph Hearst), as well as Arliss Howard as Louis B. Mayer (who has a great, barnstorming monologue about the studios' relationship with the movies) and Charles Dance as an imposing Hearst. Tom Burke pops up occasionally, doing a slightly better than average impression of Orson Welles, but this film is less interested with Kane's iconic director-star, which I suppose is a virtue. Mank presupposes, as many critics have over the years, that it was the film's screenwriter who was the real brains behind its influential narrative.

Director David Fincher's reverence for Kane is clear. Beyond little specific cinematic nods, the film itself is impeccably crafted. It has been shot, gloriously, in the style of a studio picture of the era is portrays, and its firecracker screenplay, poignantly written by Fincher's late father, really captures the rat-a-tat style of classic Hollywood.

This is why the movie leaves me a bit torn and cold. Fincher is one our greatest directors and he has been sorely missed from movies since his last foray, the blockbuster Gone Girl. He is a masterful technician and his meticulousness always makes his films hard to ignore. But emotion has never necessarily been his strong suit, which is perhaps why his best films are either about stunted people (The Social Network) or are dense in plot (Zodiac).

In Mank, Seyfried does the best job of connecting but she's in the film for fleeting moments that get overwhelmed by its detours into sidebars on left vs. right politics of the era and behind the scenes studio backstabbing.

The film is clearly a labor or love -- and is likely a shoo-in for the Best Cinematography Academy Award -- but it suffers from comparison to the movie its nominally about the making of. Citizen Kane brilliantly charts the rise and fall of an innocent who turns corrupt but Mank's lead character never evolves much. He start the film as a stumbling drunk malcontent and finishes it that way too.

It makes for a movie that is not exactly boring but hardly exhilarating.  Which is surprising from the director of such propulsive fare as Seven, The Game and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

Ultimately, Mank is not the masterpiece I was hoping for -- but I am happy to have David Fincher back.

'Freaky' is so much fun I only wish I'd seen it with an audience

Freaky is afflicted with the same annoying trait that a lot of nominal teen movies have -- its young characters are so arch, self consciously hip and overwritten that they aren't even a little bit relatable or recognizable as real people. 

It yet again casts an improbably attractive lead -- Kathryn Newton -- as a mousy outcast (she's a put-upon high school mascot to boot), even when she resembles the mean girls that bully her.

And yet, it is a fun watch in part because it is disarmingly grisly -- if you like that kind of thing -- and somewhat charmingly old school. It's not exactly scary, but it's entertaining in the way that Scream was. its secret weapon is a committed and spirited performance from Vince Vaughn, who has had one of the most mercurial movie star careers in recent memory.

He blew up on the scene with 1996's Swingers -- but then made a lot of poor career choices (like an ill-fated attempt to portray Norman Bates), before resurrecting his career as a straight comedy star with movies like Old School and Wedding Crashers. But then he fell out favor again -- with his right wing politics not doing him any favors. That was until director S. Craig Zahler teamed up with him for Brawl in Cell Block 99, in which he was a revelation in a badass dramatic role unlike any he's played before. 

In Freaky he's the adult in a horror spin on the Freaky Friday franchise, but instead of being a stuffy adult in need of loosening up he's a bloodthirsty serial killer. The switch happens early in the movie, so we don't get much time to establish his character but the movie really comes alive once the switch happens. Newton does a solid job channeling a creep and Vaughn is instantly a riot as a somewhat stereotypical teenage girl.

I haven't seen the director Christopher Landon's Happy Death Day movies (they looked a little smug to me), which appear to have taken on the gimmick of turning another beloved comedy, Groundhog Day, into a horror film, but this material feels more fertile and fun. It's so stupid and silly that it becomes quite fun. The film make's great use (as Brawl did) of Vaughn's massive build and his crack comic timing.

It's all really crowd-pleasing stuff -- with some fun nods to the gender dynamics and some decent stabs at pathos. Although it does have its fair share of plot holes and cringe-y moments.

Still, it also moves like a bullet -- with a bright color palette that is uncharacteristic for the genre. It plays well on TV, but would have been a blast to watch with a big raucous audience, which is why the news that broke today that Warner Brothers is taking their entire 2021 slate to streaming is so disheartening. Freaky has gotten some good reviews and buzz, but I have a hard time believing it will get the same audience it would had it played like a normal release in the pre-covd times.

My only hope it finds an audience somewhere, sometime -- because it deserves it.

Steve McQueen's 'Small Axe' film series is a revelation

Mangrove, the first of what will be five films by director Steve McQueen about the black experience in the United Kingdom, is sort of like the anti-Trial of the Chicago 7. It's devoid of manufactured emotional moments and speechifying, there is a real suspense in its courtroom scenes and it's less clumsy about drawing parallels between its late '60s setting and modern day conflicts.

The film is about a chapter in UK history that I, and I suspect most American viewers, knew nothing about -- the case of the Mangrove 9 -- which wound up being a watershed in that country's own civil rights movement, which is not as well known or venerated as our own.

It starts simply enough -- Frank Critchlow (played sensationally by Shaun Parkes) is a popular local restauranteur whose local spot The Mangrove has become more than just a West Indian dining establishment. It becomes a beloved meeting place for the local black community -- to sing and dance, to talk politics, to revel in their own traditions.

Its very existence ticks off a bigoted local policeman, who, if the film is to be believed, almost singlehandedly leads a campaign of harassment of the establishment which ultimately boils over in a protest that is itself violently attacked by the police.

Critchlow, as well as activists like Altheia Jones-LeCointe (a moving and magnificent Letitia Wright), are unjustly hauled off to jail and later court with a tremendous amount of institution opposition against them. Some of the nine defendants take the extraordinary risk of defending themselves in court and this leads to some real fireworks that I won't spoil here.

McQueen has been one of the most consistent and also surprising major directors of the moment. His last feature, Widows, was an unexpected detour into genre filmmaking that was both exciting and exacting. It's one of the most underrated films of the last few years and I was very curious to see what he was going to do next.

Small Axe -- which is a series of five films that will stream on Amazon -- is the most ambitious thing he has ever done. It's billed as television, but the production values and craftsmanship are more than worthy of the big screen. Mangrove is the first and it really makes a powerful statement. Surprisingly, the second entry -- the shorter and more atmospheric Lover's Rock -- is somehow even better.

It takes place mostly during an extended, raucous house party and is aided tremendously by an irresistible soundtrack of mid-to-late '70s reggae and disco jams that will make you want to get up on your feet. It's incredibly immersive -- you will feel like an attendee -- and it also feels like a lost documentary of the era, since the action and acting is so naturalistic and authentic.

And, at a time in covd, you will sorely miss the freedom of an old fashioned dance party.

At its center is a tentative romance that occurs organically between Michael Ward and Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn, two incredibly charismatic young actors who both have tremendous star potential. The movie itself runs just a little over an hour and is almost like a Terrence Malick mood piece.

Every so often this safe harbor for black joy is punctured -- by the threat of violence or white oppression -- but it proves mostly resilient, and this film, which may seem insubstantial on its surface, has a delayed sort of power. It plays beautiful as a companion piece to Mangrove, which is a heavier work, and taken as a whole it points to a director working on another level than many of his peers

I can't wait to watch the totality of his vision -- which has been both edifying and entertaining during a particularly dreary moment in this country.