You can tell Cristian Mungiu‘s Graduation (i.e., Bacalaureat) is made of strong, jolting stuff. To his everlasting and glorious credit, Mungiu is not Zack Snyder. When disturbing or traumatic things happen in his films (such as in Beyond The Hills) he never slams them into your face. He captures incidents from a distance, in the corners of frames, sudden and unforeseen. Consider what seems to be happening in this trailer at 1:10 and 1:34. Pic has been described as “a powerful and universal study about the imprecision of parenthood, the relativity of truth and the ambiguity of compromise, revealed by a father-daughter relationship.” The Romanian drama will soon play in competition in Cannes.
Day: April 29, 2016
Boobs Are No Biggie
Hollywood Elsewhere approves of Jason Bateman‘s The Family Fang (Starz, 4.29). So does everyone else for the most part. But I have a very slight issue with Nicole Kidman‘s film-set boob scene, and more particularly the fact that she doesn’t flash. Not that I care one way or the other, but what’s the big deal about topless these days? Nobody cares. It’s one thing if biology has taken you down a peg or two but if you have a relatively nice rack where’s the harm? Why even do a boob scene in 2016 if you’re going to shoot it like Clive Donner shot Paula Prentiss in What’s New Pussycat (’65)? Julie Andrews flashed in Blake Edward‘s S.O.B. 34 years ago. If you’d rather not go there, fine, but if that’s the attitude why not shoot another kind of film-set scene that explores or reveals Nicole’s actress character?
Huey Newton Approves
When I think of Captain America: Civil War (Disney, 5.3), which I reviewed a couple of weeks ago, I recall three things: (1) how I began to feel numbed and debilitated around the 100-minute mark (i.e., right after the Berlin airport brawl), (2) how much I loathed hanging with corporate Marvel whore Robert Downey, and (3) the only superhero character who really got my attention was Chadwick Boseman‘s Black Panther, if no other reason than the fact that he’s the new guy. All that stands out are the steel claws but I remember thinking, “Okay, he’s cool, nice outfit, whatever.”
Skeptical, A Certain Distance
You can tell Justin Chadwick‘s Tulip Fever (Weinstein Co., 7.15) is a carefully honed, well-crafted thing. The cinematography by Eigl Bryld (In Bruges) is obviously handsome; ditto the production design. It’s probably safe to assume that the screenplay by Tom Stoppard, based on a book by Deborah Moggach, will have a certain rhyme. But it has Christoph Waltz once again playing a cuckold with a much younger wife. His last outing in this realm was in Water for Elephants, in which Reese Witherspoon cheated on him with Robert Pattinson. This time it’s Alicia Vikander having it off with pint-sized portrait artist Dane DeHaan (who replaced the much brawnier Matthias Schoenaerts). The Dutch locale and the portrait painting also recall The Girl With a Pearl Earring. Not to mention those ridiculous 17th Century collars that Waltz has to wear. Fairly or not, it just feels like recycled material.
There — You’ve Seen Trapeze
I was going to catch a 2:30 showing of Sir Carol Reed‘s Trapeze (’56) at the TCM Old Tourists Watching Old Films Festival, which kicked off last night. I saw part of this 1956 film on TV decades ago but never all the way through. But Bosley Crowther’s review gave me pause — “dismally obvious and monotonous story…you never saw so much rehearsing or heard so much dull and hackneyed talk.” And then I ran this brief highlights reel and said to myself, “Okay, that’s fine, but don’t blow an afternoon over this.” One arresting shot: Burt Lancaster (who performed some of his own stunts) falling from a trapeze and bouncing off the net and onto the ground.
Cold Feet
The N.Y. Post‘s Emily Smith is reporting that Will Ferrell has courageously abandoned the idea of playing a dementia-afflicted Ronald Reagan in Mike Rosolio‘s Reagan, a satirical comedy about Reagan’s second term. A spokesperson for Ferrell, 48, essentially told Smith that while the 48-year-old actor “had seen the script and considered signing on” to star in and produce Reagan, he’s decided to turn tail and quit the project in the face of outraged complaints about the project from the Reagan family.
Ferrell spokesperson to Smith: “The Reagan script is one of a number of scripts that had been submitted to Will Ferrell which he had considered. While it is by no means an ‘Alzheimer’s comedy’ as has been suggested, Mr. Ferrell is not pursuing this project.”
I presume I don’t need to explain that Variety‘s Justin Kroll wouldn’t have been fed the “Ferrell is doing Reagan” story if the idea hadn’t been fully vetted by Ferrell and his team. Kroll might have heard about the project on the fly, but if I know Variety procedure the story wouldn’t have run if Kroll hadn’t been assured by someone close to Ferrell (agent, manager) that Ferrell was definitely on-board.
Avoidance Day
Rotten Tomatoes scores are always more exuberant and thumbs-uppy than Metacritic tallies when it comes to well-made films. Team Metacritic is more measured, always hangs back, never throws the confetti. But when a serious stinker comes along Rotten Tomatoes always posts a lower score. Latest example: The RT 8% rating vs. Metacritic’s 18% score on Gary Marshall‘s Mother’s Day.
As previously noted, Marshall’s last decent concoction was 1999’s Runaway Bride and his last two, Valentine’s Day and New Year’s Eve, were groaners. So it wasn’t a tough call when I decided a couple of weeks ago blow off a Mother’s Day all-media screening in order to catch a 70mm screening of Patton on the Fox lot. Patton looked okay but a little bit dupey — that “stunning density and sharpness of 70mm” thing didn’t manifest. But I still think I made the right decision.
Nice Guys Dipped In Grindhouse Sauce
In for a penny, in for a pound. Embrace, flaunt, proclaim. The tanking of Quentin Tarantino‘s Grindhouse notwithstanding. There’s a suggestion (ignored in this corner) that The Nice Guys, is going to incorporate a scratchy-faded-blurpy aesthetic start to finish. Not that I’m hoping or expecting to be underwhelmed, but if it doesn’t deliver something richer than what’s being conveyed here, etc. Note: If I was lord and dictator of The Nice Guys, I wouldn’t allow face-punching. Creative challenge!