"Accomplishments"
In theaters: Rian Johnson hasn't lost his touch with the Benoit Blanc mysteries, in fact, cinematically, Wake Up Dead Man is probably the best of them. Visually, it just has a great sense of light and shadow, creating a faux-Gothic world in rural New England where the locked-room murder of a controversial priest has mystified the police. On a thematic level, it's feels mature than the other Knives Out films, with pregnant dissections of faith and (here) Catholic tenets that inform the story, but also move the action in novel ways. And it's more subtle than past "eat the rich" narratives, taking aim at dangerous cults of personality with the same stinging sense of humor, as the dead priest's flock fanatically anoint him and grant him immunity no matter what he does or says - which might remind us of certain public figures. The year is 2025, and a lot of name directors have given their takes on the Moment, but usually by slapping you in the face with them. Johnson keeps it thrumming in the background, but doesn't let it derail the mystery. In fact, he goes to an aspirational place, rather than an accusing one.
2024's triple-Tony-winning revival of George Furth and Stephen Sondheim's Merrily We Roll Along has a dramatic cinema presentation, full of close-ups that make you wonder if they filmed "overdubs" without an audience there, but nevertheless suck you into the action more fully (same people who filmed Hamilton, so you know it's quality). Though a decade separates the two original productions, this is very much a companion piece to Company, with a similar sense of humor, achronological sequencing, and end note. It's about friendship, and told in reverse, and so about three friends who "go way back, but rarely forward", a play on words that very much becomes the play's structure. As we know what's going to happen from the first scene, each scene - essentially a betrayal of that friendship by Jonathan Groff - intensifies the tragedy. Some of us only sour with age, but it's only in looking back that we see what they/we have lost. Beautifully done. Great ensemble. Fun costume changes. Daniel Radcliffe gets very difficult things to do and aces them. Broadway star Lindsay Mendez is who we attach our hearts to. Katie Rose Clarke plays the gamut. And Krystal Joy Brown is extremely funny as that hussy, Gussie. I'm generally a Sondheim fan, and to me, along with Company, this is one of the greats.
At home: Largely based on the Supermen of Malegaon documentary, Superboys of Malegaon is an inspiring biopic about an emergent DIY film industry started in the 90s in a small Indian town. The "boys" are mostly concerned with making parodies (I was glad to have seen the Bollywood classic Sholay before this, since it's their first and most explored effort) starring their friends and their town. It's a fine look at the transformational power of art on people and communities, with a healthy dose of melodrama, as if taking its cues from Bollywood itself. And the transformations aren't always positive, as in the director's ego finding a way to turn his friends against him, but THIS film's director, Reema Kagti, finds a way to take "transformation" to the meta-textual level. She's recreating scenes that are recreating scenes in the first place. Transformation of original material AS originality. And ultimately, she transforms how we might view the one internationally known film produced in Malegaon, a parody of Superman, making it more touching from our having the full backstory.
Kim Jee-woon's Cobweb is a lot of fun. Song Kang-ho (Parasite) plays a film director who is evidently running away from a mentor who looms too large in his work, and in the span of less than two days, endeavors to make a bunch of changes to his film before the sets are struck down. It's absolutely CHAOS. Intransigent actors, censor boards sniffing around (which is why this had to be a period piece), even those who want to help conspire in some way to preventing him from achieving his vision. And honestly, the masterpiece in question - which we see in black and white when the cameras are rolling, pre-edited so we know it's flashing forward to the finished film - is quite ridiculous and part of the comedy. Ultimately, Director Kim may himself be confronting the anxieties of his profession, in particular that certain dissatisfaction with finished products.
In Naked Acts, Cecily (Jake-Ann Jones) is the estranged daughter of her universe's Pam Grier, an actress who habitually took her kit off on film in the 70s. Now, it's her turn to be an actress, and her first film - an indie just like this one - may ask her to perform a nude scene, which she is reluctant to do. We often talk about "exploring" a theme or issue in a film, but Naked Acts really does. It's at once about exploitation of female bodies, playing coy with us as well watching whether anyone will disrobe, but also framing it as a kind of abuse. It's about body positivity, too, with our actress' reluctance grounded in part on body shaming she once suffered, and objectification seems to be on everyone's minds. And it's about taking back what's yours and celebrating it on a personal level, while never really letting society getting away with judging and monetizing the most personal thing each of us has. The explorations go beyond the premise, which in itself, is pretty interesting, and doles out both moments of high drama and comedy.
While the slow burn on Kelly Reichardt's pseudo-westerns (Meek's Cutoff, First Cow) seems to go against their "genre", it's entirely suitable to Showing Up's portrait of the art world (if you're not part of the art world, you're unlikely to get a line in this movie). Michelle Williams (who dresses like she kept her costumes from Meek's) is a ceramicist, a woman who is perpetually unhappy and has to work very hard to stay that way. Even when she finds solutions, they just feel like other problems. And so we're heading for an anti-climactic exhibition, a goal against which the universe seems to be working, and catharsis comes from another place. The title is important, I think. It's about showing for other people, so they'll show up for you, and I don't just mean for the vernissage (though that's a symbolic moment, in a way). It's also about showing up for the work (ceramics needs tender-loving care and could still explode in the kiln - there's tension there), as art isn't sorted by raw talent. One of the starring animals represents both ideas and is the heart of the film. This one sneaks up on you, much like First Cow did.
There was a time when prospective grooms living abroad would receive paintings of their brides for inspection. Portrait of a Lady on Fire, at first, seems a perfectly well made period piece about just such a subject, with the painter a young woman who falls in love with the reluctant bride, but no more than that. It looks gorgeous, as a film about art should, with many well-composed tableaus unfolding before our eyes, and the relationship is unsurprisingly repressed and tragic. But then something happens at the mid-point that made the film fly for me. As if unleashed by the women's forbidden sexuality finally sparking, the film itself becomes more transgressive, creatively. The turning point is the way it uses the myth of Orpheus, and from there, witch songs, hallucinations, more disjointed editing, a most memorable abortion scene, and other clever touches, on through to the perfect epilogues. A film unleashed by its characters. What seemed like Cannes-bait turns out to be fire indeed.
In that very special category of documentaries we like to call "You can't make this stuff up", The Painter and the Thief starts with an art theft. Now, it's one thing if someone steals the Mona Lisa and the only victim is the public, but what happens when the artist is alive and struggling? That was perhaps Benjamin Ree's thought when he started documenting. But then, the painter approaches the thief and asks to paint him (she definitely has an eye for the dark and macabre). And their lives become intertwined in ways we certainly weren't expecting when the whole thing started. Ree makes no judgments, leaving that to us. Is this relationship "safe"? Is it exploitative? The feelings are complicated, and in some ways, we might wonder if the camera's presence is (or initially was) pushing the painter's obsession with her subject. Conclusions are up to us, and though I like a good "Passionate Eye" documentary, that's how it should be in this case. But then, I also love a good "Stumbled Onto a Story I Wasn't Expecting" documentary.
[French Polynesia] A political thriller set in Tahiti, Pacifiction follows the genial French High Commissioner of the islands as he goes about his daily business, none of which seems to take place in an office, but is rather a portrait of the colony as pleasure center, as De Roller (BenoÎt Magimel) tries to protect tourism interests, though he fears he's been kept out of the loop about potential nuclear testing in the area. At first, I questioned the neon glow of the photography, but then realized the colors were more like the film was shot through a tropical cocktail. Everything looks gorgeous, but as to the plot, it can be hard to get through. We were one hour in (of an egregious almost three-hour length), and I couldn't tell what the film was about yet, if anything. A lot of improvised-sounding dialog, a lot of character introductions - the dotty admiral, the māhū hostess (truly, the highlight), the young revolutionary... - but very little actually pays off. When the third act opts to shut its characters up in favor of an extended clubbing sequence, it wants to connect geopolitics with a meaningless sensory overload, but I'm not sure about the opacity this far in. I liked parts of it, beyond even the cinematography, but I remain on the fence, whereas most reviewers seem to either love it or hate it.
[Bermuda] Sometimes, if rarely, a documentary is just happy. I know the subject of Mr. Happy Man has passed away since, but it's nice that he has a couple bids at immortality, including this little doc.
[Maldives] Is Nutter in the Night a self-portrait? Ehh, one could do worse.
[Bouvet Island] The 1989-1990 3Y5X Bouvet Island DXpedition (Expedition to Bouvetøya) is essentially home videos of the science team under 80s synths. No context. Repetitive. Very little "science". But if you're thing is listening to radio chatter in the dark, this is the "documentary" for you.
Books: This one is apparently controversial. Tasked with concluding the Faction Paradox arc in the Eighth Doctor novels, Stephen Cole and Peter Anghelides did a more than serviceable job with The Ancestor Cell. Controversial, because if I understand it, the arc was taken away from Lawrence Miles (who originated it in Alien Bodies) and is therefore repugnant to his fans (and certainly to him, as he is a very grumpy kind of fellow). Certainly, it doesn't give me the same "wow" feeling as Alien Bodies or Interference, despite all the loopy concepts. But the fact that The Ancestor Cell has to reference so many past story, going back YEARS, is part of the problem the line was trying to fix. I took a lot of things for granted because I couldn't exactly remember everything going back that far. So taken on its own, the Doctor's final battle with Faction Paradox has a lot to recommend (though perhaps not the new President Romana) and seems like a template for a lot of later Doctor Who, including all the Time War stuff, which seems heavily inspired by this. Fans of Big Finish's Gallifrey series would also find it familiar. I think it would be fair to say that it's all the big "Miles-ish" concepts mainstreamed to more basic, understandable versions. There's a lot of action, and plenty for Fitz to do. It's Compassion's last story and she's underused in that context, but I've long wondered if making her a TARDIS didn't make her impossible to write for. The unnamed Enemy is a disappointment after all this time, and even after reading it twice, I still don't understand how the Doctor beat his foe in the climax. So it's not perfect, by any means, but divorced from any kind of behind the scenes outrage, it's not terrible either.
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