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As ultra-violent prison dramas go, Steven Craig Zahler‘s Brawl in Cell Block 99 pushes the envelope and really wails in a crazy caveman sort of way. The most rancid bad guys pay for their awfulness in the worst way when their arms and legs are snapped like twigs and their heads are pounded upon and opened up with all kinds of glistening brain matter spilling out. Somebody called it “a grade-A piece of meathead cinema.” I’ll go along with that.

It gets really hardcore in the third act. I mean really hardcore. I was watching it last night on Amazon and going “Jesus H. Christ…this is fetishy!” A lot of bruising hand-to-hand action. Fisticuffs, beatdowns, bone-snappings, eye-gougings.

And it’s a very right-wing thing. Zahler and Vaughn are serious righties (i.e., libertarians) in the Mel Gibson vein but not, as far as I know, Trumpies. And boy, are they into idolizing and protecting mothers and unborn children! I only know that the more a movie idolizes a loyal pregnant wife and the more the pregnant wife is threatened by sadistic villains, the more right-wing it is. Protect the pregnant mom with a big club! Protect the children, protect the bloodline!

The thing is that Brawl in Cell Block 99 is exceptionally well-made, and as uncomfortable as I am with head-squashing movies I have to at least convey respect for Zahler’s craft.

On top of which it establishes Vince Vaughn as the reigning right-wing action hero of the moment — a six-foot-five Mr. Clean who speaks quietly and politely with a gentle Southern accent and who thoroughly thinks things over before pounding guys and squashing skulls. It’s not really my kind of movie, but it’s kind of Zen in its approach to character and payoff. It takes its time, takes its time. Liam “paycheck” Neeson has announced that he’s finished with this kind of film. Vaughn is the right-wing heir apparent, a kind of successor to Clint Eastwood.

If anyone wants to make a new series of 21st Century Harry Callahan movies, a new manifestation of a right-wing rogue cop or soldier of fortune who despises p.c. lefties but plays it straight and clear on a personal basis, Vaughn is the guy. 

It just needs to be understood that Zahler knows how to apply the right kind of discipline in the making of this kind of film, and that Vaughn knows how to play it cool and steady as he waits for the inevitable bad shit to happen. Badass bone-snapper!  I will make you whine and beg for death.

Criterion’s forthcoming Breakfast Club Bluray (1.2.18) feels like a cultural curio. Like their 2008 Armageddon DVD, it’s one of their gesture releases — an attempt to persuade the physical-media-owning world that Criterion product isn’t entirely about catering to elitist Richard Brody-level dweeb favorites and sensibilities, and that it has a populist bone or two in its body. Criterion understands, in short, that every so often mainstream popularity actually counts for something or other.

Everyone regards this John Hughes high-school dramedy (released on 2.15.85) as some kind of Brat Pack or Reagan-era landmark event. It is that, I suppose. An ’80s fetish thing. If you were to give me 15 minutes to list the most culturally significant films of the ’80s, I would probably include The Breakfast Club on the lower third of the list. Risky Business would be in the upper third, and in fact near the top. Don’t even think about mentioning these two films in the same breath.

The Breakfast Club was decently shot by Thomas Del Ruth, but it’s not like Del Ruth set the world on fire with what he captured. (I’m sure he’s a nice guy but his no-great-shakes resume speaks for itself.) It looks fine but calm down. Plus it was re-released theatrically and offered as a Universal Home Video 30th Anniversary Bluray two years ago. Criterion’s Bluray comes from a new “4K restoration,” but you and I know it won’t look all that different from the 2015 version.

One of the reasons Criterion is putting out a Breakfast Club Bluray, at least in part, is that last year it was “selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress as being ‘culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant’,” blah blah.

In the HE realm the final measure of quality or importance is whether I, Jeffrey Wells of West Hollywood, have ever re-watched The Breakfast Club since I attended a Westwood all-media screening 32 and 3/4 years ago. The answer is “no, I have not.” And that includes ignoring the 30th anni re-release, the Universal Bluray and the streaming opportunities.

My reasons can be summed up as “it’s an okay, moderately winning film but let’s not get too excited…it’s just a clever, occasionally on-target Hughes slider that accurately reflects certain modes of alienation known to the ’80s high-school mindset ….zeitgeisty and conceptually catchy as far as it went, okay, and yes, it launched or re-enforced the careers of Emilio Estevez, Molly Ringwald, Anthony Michael Hall and Ally Sheedy (but not Judd Nelson‘s), and…I don’t know, is there anything else?

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How much of a “bump” does Criterion’s Barry Lyndon Bluray provide? A modest one — the enhanced colors and slightly finer detail don’t exactly blow you against the back wall, but they’re noticable. It’s in no way a letdown, but it’s a wee bit short of a knockout. (If you’re familiar with the 2011 Warner Home Video Bluray version, I mean — side by side the Criterion is superior but only by a horse-length or two.) What attracted me, whether I imagined it or not, is the vivid, well-layered sound. Michael Hordern‘s voice sounds extra-rich and deep and buttery. 4K scan, 1080p, 1.66:1 aspect ratio.  As good as this film is ever going to look, short of the 4K version that will probably come along within two or three years.

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We’re all here together on the same planet, sharing space and trying to be kind and maybe make some things happen. Nobody’s better or worse than anyone else, but it’s not unfair to explore the overall with a sudden-death calculus. If Harvey Weinstein were to die in a plane crash today, some might argue that the world would be a slightly better place. If Kyle Buchanan, Kris Tapley or Scott Feinberg‘s luck were to suddenly run out, the film industry would be a less quantifiable place. If Oliver Stone or Paul Schrader were to fall off a 200-foot cliff, film culture would suddenly have less wit and dimension. If Saoirse Ronan were to get hit by a bus, we’d all be short a Best Actress contender. If Irving the plumber catches a stray bullet, a lot of sinks, bathtubs and toilets wouldn’t function as well. But if Kris Jenner, Kourtney Kardashian, Kim Kardashian, Khloe Kardashian, Kendall Jenner and Kylie Jenner were to die in a plane crash tomorrow, in what way would the world suddenly be a lesser place? Be honest.

If you’re any kind of cinema hound the crisp, super-detailed capturings from 35mm big-studio films of the classic era should at least give you a semi-stiffie. If they don’t then what can I say? There’s something missing inside you, and there’s no medicine or special diet or surgery than can fix this. And I’m no fan of Sergeant York, mind. Even when I was a kid I found it dreary and sanctimonious, excepting that one portion when Gary Cooper kills several German soldiers and single-handedly captures over 100 of them, etc. But I love the cinematography by Sol Polito, whose other credits include Archie Mayo‘s The Petrified Forest and a slew of Michael Curtiz films including The Adventures of Robin Hood, Angels With Dirty Faces, The Sea Hawk and Captains of the Clouds (Academy Award for Best Color Cinematography) plus Irving Rapper‘s Now, Voyager and Frank Capra‘s Arsenic and Old Lace. A new Bluray is available in the European PAL format, but nothing for NTSC viewers.

“Ya home?…my son, this is your time…we own ya…I waited my entire life for this…the world’s gonna start over…what happens now?…the revolution will be live,” etc. Speaking as a dedicated hater of superhero films, as a sworn enemy of the DC/Marvel universes (except for Ant-Man and the first two Captain America films and maybe one or two others), I half-regret acknowledging that Black Panther feels like some kind of rejuvenation, and that even I feel revved about it. This isn’t just a superhero flick — it’s a major rattling of the Mike Pence cage. Yo bumblefucks…we own ya. Fred Hampton lives.

The Guardian‘s Emma Brockes has posted an interview with Tom Hanks about “Uncommon Type,” a collection of short stories written by the 61 year-old actor and former superstar.

Hanks is one of the best-liked guys in this business, in part because he’s always been delicate and diplomatic in airing opinions about this or that. But he ignored this social discipline when Brockes asked him about career limitations or hindrances.

Tom Hanks, the blunt-spoken author of “Uncommon Type.”

Brockes: “What’s the male equivalent of the Hollywood actress considered too old for a lead?” Hanks: “Unfairly, I don’t think there is one.” Brockes: “You don’t age out of some genres?” Hanks: “No. But here’s what you can do: you can fat yourself out. If you’re fat, you can’t play an astronaut. Take a look at the guys who are still working; they’re in really good shape. Otherwise, they become character guys. So that’s possible.”

First of all, you’re not allowed to say “fat” any more. Hanks surely understands that anyone who uses this word is a fat-shamer. In today’s p.c. realm there are no fat people — just cool people of different shapes and sizes. (Unless you’re talking about Donald Trump.) So right away Hanks has violated a major p.c. no-no.

Secondly (and I’m sure Hanks gets this also), fat actors might not be able to play an astronaut but they can definitely play a thinner person’s lover or fiancee. It used to be that corpulent actors were used only as comic relief types or the second-best friend of the handsome lead. Nowadays fat actors actually get laid in features and TV series, which never would have even occured to directors and screenwriters 25 years ago.

Within the last five years we’ve seen (a) the Santa Claus-sized Michael Chernus play the lover of a hot married woman in People, Places, Things, (b) the girthy Mel Rodriguez play a guy with an active love life in Will Forte‘s The Last Man on Earth series, (c) Forte’s character in Nebraska looking to keep a sexual relationship going with Missy Doty (who was described by Thomas Haden Church‘s character in Sideways as “the grateful type”), (d) the bulky, nearly bald Steve Zissis connecting with Amanda Peet on HBO’s Togetherness, and (e) the rail-thin Mamoudou Athie do the deed with Danielle McDonald in Patti Cake$.

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Six and a half months ago I was wowed by 20th Century Fox’s presentation at Cinemacon, and particularly by the footage from Michael Gracey and Hugh Jackman‘s The Greatest Showman (12.25), a musical about P.T. Barnum. It looked and sounded like a major wow — “a big, brassy, up-spirited musical…aimed at the ticket-buyers, full of feeling, going for the gold and the glory.”

A little more than three months later (on 6.29) the trailer popped. It felt a little bit corny and obvious, but I figured Fox marketers were just trying to appeal to the lowest-common-denominator lowbrows and that the first award-season promotions would begin sometime in…oh, late October or thereabouts.

This morning I was told in so many words that Fox doesn’t regard The Greatest Showman as Best Picture material at all, and that the big Cinemacon promotion was strictly about getting exhibitors excited about selling tickets to a big, splashy, hoo-hah musical. Oh. Congrats, Fox marketing, for conning me into thinking that The Greatest Showman might be an X-factor musical that would appeal to people like me as well as the schmucks.

From a friend: “They tested The Greatest Showman last night in South Jordan, Utah. They were offering 10 dollars to any woman between 18 and 24 that would attend. I’m guessing they’re looking to attract the Zac Efron crowd.”

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It sounds unkind if not cruel to say this, but the invisible subtitle of Woody Allen‘s Wonder Wheel, which I saw this morning, is “I got nothin’ left to say, but I’m gonna say it anyway.”

It’s not a substandard or dismissable film, but it’s not grade-A either. It’s basically a thrown-together stew of familiar Allen-esque elements and influences — a little Chekhov-Seagull action, a little re-frying of Blue Jasmine desperation mixed with A Streetcar Named Desire, a dash of Mary Beth Hurt‘s “Joey” character in Interiors, some gangster seasoning from Bullets over Broadway plus some onions, garlic, celery and sauteed peppers and a little Crimes and Misdemeanors.

But it has some magnificent cinematography by the great Vittorio Storaro. It’s totally worth seeing for this alone.

Wonder Wheel is basically a gloomy stage play — don’t trust any reviewer who calls it a “dramedy” — about a love triangle that ends in doom and despair. For my money it felt too stagey, too “written”, too theatrical. Every doomed character seems to be saying lines, and I just didn’t believe it. I never stopped saying to myself “the writing hasn’t been sufficiently finessed.”

Wonder Wheel‘s tragic figure is poor Ginny (Kate Winslet), a 39 year-old might-have-been actress on her second marriage, living in a Santo Loquasto-designed Coney Island apartment with a pot-bellied lunkhead named Humpty (Jim Belushi), miserable as fuck with a waitress gig at a local clam house and coping with a strange pyromaniac son whom I didn’t care for and wanted to see drowned.

There are two wild cards — a Trigorin-like would-be playwright/lifeguard named Mickey Rubin (Justin Timberlake), and Carolina (Juno Temple), Humpty’s unstable daughter who shows up in scene #1, looking to hide out after yapping to the FBI about her gangster ex-husband and concerned that friends of her ex might want to hurt her.

Early on Ginny falls for Mickey and vice versa to a certain extent. The problem is that Ginny starts to imagine that Mickey can somehow help her escape from her miserable life. But Mickey is just looking for writerly experience and not interested in being anyone’s savior, except perhaps his own. 

The second problem is that soon after meeting Carolina Mickey starts to think about easing out of his affair with Ginny and maybe….no, he doesn’t want to be a two-timing shit so he puts it out of his mind, but you know what they say about Mr. Happy. He wants what he wants.

Wonder Wheel is a lament for life’s unhappy losers — for those marginally talented people who never quite made it artistically, or who made one or two big mistakes and never recovered, and who are stuck in a dead-end job or marriage that is making them more and more miserable. It starts out saying “these people are not only unhappy, but nothing they can do can free them from the mud of misery.” It ends up saying “you thought these folks couldn’t be less happy? Well, we figured a way!”

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I’m hearing that Woody Allen‘s Wonder Wheel is “good but not great”, and that while Kate Winslet might snag a Best Actress nomination for her performance as the tragic Ginny, she won’t win because her performance, fine as it is, doesn’t match Cate Blanchett‘s Oscar-winning turn in Blue Jasmine.

Allen’s latest will screen for NY Film Festival press and Los Angeles press on Friday.

“Yes, there’s that meltdown scene that people seem to be talking about,” a guy tells me. “It’s shot, if I remember correctly, in a single take and is just heart-wrenching. It proved to me that Woody still has a fair amount of cinematic juice left in him. It also upped the entire movie’s quality for me as well.

“Jim Belushi is fine. Not much of a well-sketched character if you ask me, but you do care for him. Juno Temple is better!

“Overall Winslet is very solid, but she won’t win. No way, no how. She doesn’t even come close to reaching Blanchett-level greatness. Possibly a fifth slot awaits her? The fact that she’s already won all but seals it for me. Plus her accent is quite strange here. I’m not sure what she was going for. She’s still a great actress, but some notes didn’t ring true. If people are expecting a Cate Blanchett-level performance, they’d best lower their expectations. She’s really good and deserves that fifth slot, but Winslet is not Blanchett.

“Vittorio Storaro‘s cinematography is incredible. (HE: Deakins loses again?) There are some scenes where he uses the light in a given room so well, and in a way that’s very similar to the way he bright colors to light rooms in The Conformist. This is exceptional work from a true master of the form. He’s basically schooled Deakins with this film. As much as I hope Deakins wins that Oscar, Storaro deserves it way more.

“The scenes involving the mob felt like a mix of comedy and violence. Reminded me of Bullets over Broadway. They feel a little bit distracting, mess up the tone, especially when the soul of the film is Winslet.”

Yesterday News in English in Norway reported that Tomas Alfredson‘s The Snowman (Universal, 10.20) has gotten creamed by Norweigan film reviewers. They were generally “deeply disappointed,” the piece says, “with several panning it and giving the film a score of just two on a scale of one to six.”

The Snowman will screen for Los Angeles critics on Wednesday, 10.18, or a day before it opens. What does that tell you?

Straight from the shoulder: “The local film critics, well-acquainted with Nesbo’s books about the unorthodox Norwegian detective Harry Hole, had been waiting almost breathlessly for the film’s release themselves. It’s not often that a film shot entirely on location in Norway and inspired by a Norwegian is about to be distributed internationally, and expectations were skyhigh. When they finally got to see it, just prior to its festive premiere in Oslo on Tuesday, many were all but stunned.

“’What in the world has happened here?’ read the headline on the review published by newspaper VG, Norway’s largest tabloid distributed nationwide. It went on to complain that the ‘thriller’ was anything but, that it lacked the ‘page-turning’ characteristics of the book and contained so many “dramatic” changes in the plot of Nesbo’s Snowman that fans of Harry Hole (pronounced Hoo-leh in Nowegian) are likely to sound off in online commentaries.

“Norwegian Broadcasting (NRK)’s reviewer was just as unimpressed. Marte Hedenstad, part of the so-called ‘film police’ at NRK, was most disappointed that the depth and personality of the Harry Hole character ‘disappeared’ during the transition from book to screen. She claimed that also removed the intensity that made The Snowman an international best-seller.

“What’s left is a standard and quite boring crime story, that never got me to feel my heart in my throat,’ Hedenstad wrote. She conceded on national radio in Norway Tuesday morning that film versions of books often disappoint fans of the books who think they’re much better, but in this case, she and other reviewers believe director Tomas Alfredson made some major mistakes.

“’This is not my Harry Hole,’ she wrote, making it clear that in her opinion, the film does not do justice to the hero of Nesbo’s books who’s brilliant but struggles with alcohol abuse and self-destructive behavior.”

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