Movie Review: “Above the Line” and Far Below Par

It’s a movie about Hollywood and the dirty dealing it often takes to “get to the top” or even “get a break.”

But it’s hard to muster up any enthusiasm for the stumblebums in the plot, or behind the camera for “Above the Line,” which takes its title for the way the most important creative folks in a film are billed — writers, actors, director, producers

This Jeffrey Scott Collins action comedy is about wannabes/never-will-bes secretly hired to steal Oscar statuettes from a particularly vile and successful producer (veteran character actor Gregg Henry). Things go right and things go wrong, some rise to the occasion by improvising and some flee.

And the plot and editing are so confused that it’s damned difficult to sort out who is screwing over whom and who knows what among that sextet of would-be starlet, directors, a writer, a “Hero” and a producer.

An empty Beverly Hills McManson is the meeting place for our handsome “Hero” (John Way), the pretty “Princess” screenwriter (Sophia Ali), the “Dame” (Jamie Lee), the duo of young directing brothers, “Cowboy” (Dylan Playfair) and “Spaceman” (Jackson Pace) and the producer who’s basically still a “Ghost” (Reno Wilson) as far as Hollywood is concerned.

They’re summoned by a “golden ticket” and ten $100 bills each. There’s a cool $million in it if they can swipe the five ill-gotten Oscars that Jack Woodrow (Henry) keeps in his hilltop mansion for some unseen puppetmaster. A plan is laid out for them. It sounds nuts, but there’s a lot of money and that tempts most, but not all.

What really seals the deal for the five who agree to take the van provided and don the Halloween masks within to carry out this heist is each person’s Jack Woodrow “story.”

Our writer was screwed out of an Oscar-winning, break-out credit. The fading “I’m barely thirty
Dame got humiliated trying to sleep her way into a guest spot in one of Woodrow’s TV series. And so on.

They tell these stories on the way to the heist, during and after it, as we all figure out Jack’s at home, he’s got starlet-“company” and this robbery goes off the (cocaine) rails in a hurry and a lone cop (Adhir Kalyan) gets involved.

We figure out why everybody, including the two young director/brothers have a beef. But we can’t figure out why they’d know and party with a twice-their-age Hollywood veterinarian played by Cedric the Entertainer, whom they visit when one of them gets shot.

And we get Hollywood “lessons” that King of Hollywood Jack imparts to each as he’s shafting them in this way or that.

“Always read the contract.” “Speak up when you know you’re right.” Etc.

When a movie like “The Player” or “Swimming with Sharks” works, there’s credit enough to go all around. But when your movie isn’t remotely on a cleverness par with those acrid tales of Hollywood chicanery, the blame is rarely the players’ fault.

This or that character serves no real function, as scripted, or when they do (Suzy Nakamura plays Jack’s long-suffering assistant), what to actually do with them.

Old pro Henry knows the biz and the creeps who run it well enough to make Woodrow interesting, at least. The other cast are trapped playing “types” that barely register as the plot stumbles this way and that, trying to find surprises or credibility as a Tale from the Dark Side of Hollywood.

Something got lost by the “Above the Line” “creatives” in the writing, workshopping or editing that might have helped it make sense, or at least feel less confused and pointless.

Rating: TV-MA, violence, drug abuse, profanity

Cast: Sophia Ali, Gregg Henry, Reno Wilson, Dylan Playfair, Jamie Lee, Jackson Pace, Suzy Nakamura, John Way, Adhir Kalyan and Cedric the Entertainer.

Credits: Directed by Jeffrey Scott Collins, scripted by Jeffrey Scott Collins and Jono Matt. A Quiver release on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:33

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BOX OFFICE: “Resident Evil” Reboots with… $60? “Magic” Practically claws out $11

There was this dude — hardcore gamer, I gather, and fan of the “Resident Evil” film and game franchise, who did this to the beater he drove to work at a Subway shop in Roxboro, N.C.

You just knew they’d never abandon the Racoon City movie series, even after Milla Jovovich priced-out and aged out of being the nubile action heroine who anchored this 24 years and running film franchise. The fans are that dedicated.

So a franchise-best blockbuster opening — $24 million Thursday night and Friday, setting up a $60 million weekend per Deadline.com — should come as no shock. Especially when Trumpflation is considered.

It did $8.8 million Thursday night alone.

Actor turned director Zach Cregger’s take on the game-turned-movie franchise is winning the best reviews of the series as well. Go figure. I lost whatever interest I had in this game-to-big-screen enterprise long ago, but Cregger means I’ll need to see it.

The five million or so gamers and diehards and Cregger fans — he did the superior horror tales “Barbarians” and “Weapons” — and whatever you’d call somebody who paints his car in Umbrella Corp. livery are turning out for this one.

The Sandra Bullock/Nicole Kidman “Practical Magic 2” sequel is doing about half the business it did opening weekend, figure $11-12 million, and that’ll easily be good enough for second place.

“The Odyssey” wins weekdays in this portion of its summer-long battle with “Spider-Man: Brand New Day.” But the weekend is too close to call at the moment, with both films heading towards $5-6 million takes, with one slated for third the other coming in fourth.

“Coyote vs. Acme” seems on track to take fifth with a $4 million+ take.

Angel’s “Runner” is on its way to a sixth place $2.9 but the new release “Daniel and the Fiery Furnace” is doing middling business, but $2.9 has it looking like a tie with “Runner” and “Transformers,” re-released.

New releases “Shaun of the Sheep: The Monster of Mossy Bottom” and the outdoor action pic “The Weight” ($2.55) with Ethan Hawke might crack the top ten in limited release, as the lower ranks of this list typically don’t need to clear much more than $1 million to get in. Both are good and deserve an audience. Pity Gkids didn’t advertise “Shaun.” It’s delightful.

Somebody’ll be left out and several somebodies are destined to drop out of the Top Ten. “The Uprising” for sure, “By Any Means” and maybe one other title will fade out.

Look at the take for “Mutiny” and “By Any Means” and tell me Jason Statham and Mark Wahlberg aren’t seeing the writing on the wall.

Check back here over the weekend as I’ll be updating this tallies as data comes in.

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Movie Review: Hawke & Co. carry “The Weight” of Life, Loss, and Gold for Russell Crowe

The hero is a widowed veteran, father of a tiny girl who is taken away from him when he is unjustly imprisoned.

The warden of the camp where he’s jailed seems like a reasonable sort. He recognizes a man who is good with his hands who can solve problems menial or mechanical on the fly.

You want to shorten your sentence? Help me out with this onerous task, just a bit of backpacking across the mountains.

That’s the plot of “The Weight,” a lean, crackling thriller in the “Wages of Fear” (“Sorceror” was a remake of that.), “Treasure of the Sierra Madre” and “Deliverance” mold.

It’s a genre picture that follows formula and still keeps you guessing, another acting feather in Ethan Hawke’s hat and a reminder that Russell Crowe still does good very work — nuanced, shaded and dangerous.

Hawke reteams with his “The Good Lord Bird” TV series producer Padraic McKinley, who directs this murky, foggy saga in simple, mythic strokes, hitting each action beat hard, steadily raising the stakes every step of the way.

The Great Depression is on and police everywhere are making matters worse, hunting “vagrants” in the interest of the propertied people who always call the shots.

That’s how our downtrodden Everyman, Murphy (Hawke) is grabbed. He may be good with engines, construction and everything menial in between. But when you can’t find work in 1933, you get evicted. When the a crowd of out-of-uniform cops hassle him and get handsy with his little girl Penny (Avy Berry), he fights back and that’s how he ends up in jail.

Months later, facing the permanent loss of wee Penny, he’s transferred to a road work camp run by Clancy (Crowe). The Boss comes off as tough but fair minded. None of your Southern fried sadism in this forested corner of Oregon. When he picks up on Murphy’s plight, and his special skills, he makes his offer.

There’s this gold mine where they do their own smelting into ingots (apparently). With Franklin Roosevelt in the White House trying to turn the economy around, that isn’t going to be worth much to your average fat cat unless they rush it out and hide it or “speculate” their way to riches.

Murphy can hand-pick three feloow inmates — mouthy Rankin (Austin Amelio), leftist intellectual Singh (Avi Nash) and the stoic Olsen (Lucas Lynggaard Tønnesen) — and if they can retrieve that gold, under guard (Sam Hazeldine and George Burgess) and haul it over the mountains, they’ll earn early release.

The first thing that doesn’t go according to plan is the Native American cook (Julia Jones) who flees the mining camp with them. It won’t be the last.

The narrative, scripted by Matthew Booi and Shelby Gaines, takes these seven characters to the inevitable rotting rope bridge spanning a canyon, a structure that won’t support their weight and the weight of the gold.

They’ll be hunted by greedy prospectors, dogged by each man and woman’s human failings and bedeviled by the fear that this is all a set-up by mine company hustler Taggert (Alec Newman) and/or Clancy.

I love the world the film immerses us in right from the start — Murphy driving an ancient Ford like a banshee down back roads just to entertain his pre-child-seat daughter giggling in the back, a kind neighbor trying to find things she can pay Murphy for to help them survive, a “justice” system that’s nothing of the sort.

Politics come to the fore on the march, as the anti-capitalist Singh is badgered by chatterbox orphan turned criminal Rankin, only to have the mouthy dope schooled by “the wrong kind’a Indian.”

Every character may be a stock “type,” but every characterization is spot-on, especially in the ways those “types” surprise us.

The score tosses in a few bits of modern (“classic” rock) music that jars. I guess banjos are out of the question in this Depression Era “Deliverence.”

Some of the problem solving, woodlore and martial skills Murphy displays is convincing. Some of it invites us to second-guess him and common sense.

And the movie does that, too.

How will this play out when the whip comes down? We’re guessing right up to the end about how satisfying (crowd pleasing) or frustrating the finale will be. Lay some of that at the feet of Hawke, who isn’t shy about signing on to movies where right or good triumphs doesn’t triumph over evil or The System.

As the screen faded to black, several of us got up to leave the showing I attended. But to a one, we all turned and stared back at the screen from the hallway, just to make damned sure Hawke, Crowe, director McKinley & Co. weren’t serviing up one last surprise to send us home with.

Rating: R, graphic violence, profanity, smoking

Cast: Ethan Hawke, Julia Jones, Austin Amelio, Avi Nash,
Lucas Lynggaard Tønnesen, Sam Hazeldine, Avy Berry, Alec Newman, George Burgess and Russell Crowe.

Credits: Directed by Padraic McKinley, scripted by Matthew Booi, Shelby Gaines, Leo Scherman. A Vertical release.

Running time: 1:55

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Movie Review: “Shaun the Sheep — The Beast of Mossy Bottom”

Much of the charm and delight missing from children’s animated films this year makes a belated arrival in “Shaun the Sheep: The Beast of Mossy Bottom.”

Yes, it’s an aimated franchise and yes, there’s even been a VERY long-running TV series. So you’d think the Great Brits at Aardman Animation would be slap out of ideas for their mischievous, clever and non-speaking sheep, his fellow lambs, rams and ewes and every other non-speaker at the farm — animal and human — where he carries on.

But the short answer to that is no, they haven’t.

The trick seems to be to always augment a Shaun veteran with a new Brit wit in the script department. “The Beast of Mossy Bottom” pairs up Mark Burton, who’s had an Oscar nomination from working on both the “Shaun” and Aardman’s later “Wallace & Gromit” films as well as “Madagascar” and the “Paddington” bear comedies. Bringing in “Horrible History” alumnus Giles Pilbrow (the perfeect name for anybody assigned to write for Stephen Fry) pays off with with I expect will wind up being the year’s most adorable kiddie comedy.

The plot has Shaun dabbling in “mad science” from this “Homemade Science” textbook he’s gotten his hooves on with an eye to rapidly replacing the farm’s crop of pumpkins, ruined by the clumsy farmer just before Halloween. The pumpkins sprout and ripen and swell and swell and swell overnight.

But the farmer accidentally confuses the pumpkin-growing fertilizer for hair growing tonic that will get him a date with the cute veterinarian for the Mossington “Halloween Hoedown.”

The balding redhead furs up to such an extent that he’s mistaken for Bigfoot. The locals are up in arms, the vet wants to figure out what the huge hairy beast is and Shaun is put in the spot of making all that he’s messed up right again.

There are sheep doing the “Thriller” dance and “Psycho” and “Halloween” horror movie references, of course. The “mad sheep scientist” bits are straight out of every “Frankenstein” picture, right down to the windmill powered tech.

The villagers break out the pitchforks, scythes and tridents — plastic ones from the Halloween store — to chase The Beast. Some are holding torches — in one case, that’s a selfie stick with a cellphone whose screen has a flame from a torch on it.

One chef’s kiss moment has our hapless balding farmer accidentally rub under his nose after applying hair balm. Two tiny halves of a ginger mustache promptly sprout.

These movies have always appealed to eight and unders the most. But adults taking them to the cinema will be tickled too, as there are a lot more laughs — all of them coming from sight gags — in this “Beast” than the recent “Minions,” “Toy Story” and “Super Mario Bros.” blockbusters.

I don’t know if GKid their new studio, is advertising this in the right places. But take this review as a warning. You don’t want your 4-8 year-ld to miss out on Shaun as he strikes again.

Rating: G

Credits: Directed by Steve Cox and Matthew Walker, scripted by Mark Burton and Giles Pilbrow. An Aardman/GKids release.

Running time: 1:20

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Netflixable? French actors, directors and Venus the Wild Boar yell “Call My Agent! The Movie”

A movie spun-off of a TV series is inevitably going to be more rewarding to fans of that series who know all the back stories of the characters and get the jokes that come from being that character, or breaking character as that character.

And a common problem with such adaptations, or movies made by veteran TV writers, is not knowing what to cut, how many characters and incidents they can stuff in, since excess baggage can be a terrible drag on the pace of it all.

The first isn’t an issue in the Netflix film of “Call My Agent!” The second? Kind of an the elephant in the room, as this unfolding-disaster farce charms and tickles here and there, but only gets up to speed a couple of times over the course of its two plodding hours.

Because slow-burns and “anticipation” aside, film comedy is a medium that begs for speed.

“Call My Agent! The Movie” is based on a five-year-run TV series from France about talent agents and the talent they deal with. But the cutthroat agents and agencies and the thin-skinned “talent” they “handle” are more of a side concern, this time around.

The idea is to pick up the characters five years after the run of that show, when Ms. Ambitious, Organized Pushy-britches Andréa (Camille Cottin) has gotten a script together and is about to direct her first film. The far sunnier secretary turned agent turned producer Noémie (Laure Calamy) is already a succes, running one of the biggest hits on French TV.

The plot is basically everything that can go wrong with a movie ticking down towards its start-of-production date, and afterwards. And then there are child-rearing problems involving lesbian working mom Andréa. The fact that Noémie’s star is rising — she’s called on to produce the untiled “true story” thriller — and still sleeping with and living with her aged mentor, an agent (Thibault de Montalembert) who is losing clients for “somebody younger” — leads to more conflict, the melodramatic kind.

The inside-the-movies stuff is fun if over-familiar. One star would rather bail out of this to do a bit part in a new Wes Anderson film, and his replacement has “history” with his co-star.

A funny touch — French actors Laetitia Casta and Vincent Macaigne play daffy, highly-strung versions of themselves as reluctant co-stars in these roles.

Another cute bit — getting a meeting with George Clooney to see if he’ll agree to star. Noémie, whom Andréa has hired to be her “stand-in” producer, a push-over who’ll let Andréa walk all over her, crashes that meeting and procedes to test Clooney’s yen for working with people who’ll “tell me the truth” by critiquing his writer/director/star vehicle flop “Monuments Men.”

“There’s no pace” stings just as much in French accented English (the film is available in subtitled French or dubbed into English) as it would in any Hollywoodese.

That “pace” problem applies to this movie, as well. Longtime fans of the series may get a kick out of onetime office boy turned agent in training and now “actor” Herve (Nicolas Maury) overthinking his bit part as a hunter in the film and serving as bitchy gay confessor for Noémie. But there are too many characters in this for all of them — their foibles, concerns and “issues” — to be serviced into something funny.

Eva Longoria plays herself as a producer setting up shop in Paris, bashing Andréa’s script in classic Hollywood fashion. But that scene, like many others, doesn’t land a laugh or really serve the plot.

That plot has a “diva”(not really) tame wild boar and her handler on set, secrets the actors are keeping from their director and producer and vice verssa, accidents and domestic melodrama that’s never more than a cliche.

Cottin — she was Matt Damon’s foil in the Marseilles thriller “Stillwater” — is the stand-out in the cast, giving her first-time/writer-director character some edge, if not the quite the comically despairing agony of seeing her dream come to pieces due to the weather, timing, an animal and “other people.” She hits manic notes at time, and a lot more of that might have given this “Noises Off” some momentum.

I dare say most of the edges have been worn off the series. The back-stabbing, manuevering, cajoling and flattering lies that are in an agent’s repertoire are pretty watered down in director Émilie Noblet’s second feature film, in which several screenwriters ensure that there’s a whole lot of “make nice” going on.

That’s not usually amusing as a guiding principle in comedy.

If there’s a “message” here, it’s that agents might be more suited to directing than we’ve ever given them credit for — sweet-talking talent, organized and on-task hustlers who can keep the insane hours getting a film made entails.

The fun stuff is seeing actors vamp up alternate versions of themselves, but even that’s a tad hug-it-out mild by comic standards.

And whatever get-everybody-in-here fan service the producers had in mind, this film wants to be a streamlined farce. Situations and characters give us that expectation. But it never gets up that head of speed necessary to turn giddy.

So I guess George Clooney isn’t the only one who has a hard time with “pace.”

Rating: TV-MA, profanity

Cast: Camille Cottin, Laure Calamy,
Thibault de Montalembert, Grégory Montel, Laetitia Casta, Vincent Macaigne and Nicolas Maury, with Eva Longoria and George Clooney.

Credits: Directed by Émilie Noblet, scripted by Fanny Herrero, Lison Daniel, with Violane Bellet and Benjamin Charbit, based on the French TV series. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:57

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Movie Review: 120 minutes of Badly Written, Poorly Acted Poison — “Run, Hide Fight: Infidels”

Some are “canceled” but few truly remain that way in Hollywood.

Kevin Spacey and Armie Hammer aren’t around. But Roseanne Barr is, reduced to ranting into nearly empty convention halls and podcasts of fellow cranks.

But Woody Allen kept working after people finally started believing the child molestation charges against him. Granted, Wallace Shawn was the only “star” happy to be associated with the creep.

Mel Gibson’s anti-Semitism didn’t keep him from carving out a solid B-movie career, which is the fate of most action stars in their dotage anyway.

And here’s former Marvel man Jonathan Majors, rendered nearly unemployable after beating his then-girlfriend, “starring” in a thriller so Islamophobic you’d think it was released on Sept. 12, 2001.

Aside from Majors, “Run, Hide Fight: Infidel” has a no-name cast and a whole lot of hate packed into its 120 or so minutes of clumsy, lurching running time.

The latest from those Weenie Riefenstahls at The Daily Wire is an idiotically plotted and scripted terrorism thriller and a “stand alone” sequel to “Run, Hide, Fight” — which had real (B-list) movie stars in it.

It’s about a college campus taken over by terrorists, with assorted “woke” caricatures pitilessly murdered in what are meant to be “You figured it out” epiphanies, but actually here played for laughs among the bigot audience of The Daily Wire.

Consider — a gay college kid is tossed off a roof, tracked screaming all the way to the ground. Another coed wearing a rainbow colored cape is hung from the top of a flag pole.

Journalists are feckless bystanders who also get what the fascist right figures they have coming to them.

The large cadre of Muslims who show up, bearded and unloading duffels and rifle cases, aren’t noticed. We aren’t shown them toting sacks of black hajibs for their hostage/coed “brides” to wear before they’re raped.

Here’s how assorted terrorists are ID’d in the credits — “Pockmark, Scar, Cleft.”

Black characters — students and faculty — are anti protest, anti free speech and anti student, save for the one “security” employee whose girth is a punch line and who follows the younger, dopier Army vet video gamer kid into battle.

And Majors? Why, he’s a Bush era Iraq War veteran plugging a book, “America Unafraid,” accompanied by armed bodyguards onto a college campus because, I guess he saw what happened to Charlie whatisname.

Seven years earlier, Capt. Clay Saunders lost his best buddie in an insurgent hunt in the Middle East. That dead man’s son, Devlin (JC Kilcoyne) is now a student at Virginia’s Laughton University (actually defunct Limestone U. in Gaffney, S.C.), running cross country and crushing on classmate Lizzy (Tyler Aser).

The day Saunders is due to make his speech about “the three ways Islam replaces (Great Replacement Theory without Jews) us,” the college is to hold its student carnival, which is being disrupted by a corps of protesters led by Farrah (Charlotte Delaney Riggs), a shrill anti-Zionist who peppers every sentence with slogans and acronyms despised by the intolerant right.

“ICE out, Gaza IN!”

Devlin’s swaggering, combat vet game-addict roomie PJ (James Bingham) slings slurs at this Egyptian or that Korean on their dorm floor in that wingnutty “He don’t mean nothin'” way.

And then that Syrian refugee who took a custodial job on campus, Ibrahim (Stephen Hailo) and his team unleash explosions, flames and AK-47 fire on the campus, the lecture hall and the student union.

With protests going on and protesters throwing their own smoke grenades, you can see how everybody caught up in this is confused. I mean, that hail of bullets gunning down students all across the quad, should we run, or not?

The vague “demands” of the terrorists, who take hostages after killing scores, and then kill scores more, the involvement of a German-born employee of the bookstore, the non-response by “police” (mocked here) all swirl around a thriller designed to have the track star kid inherit his late daddy’s firearm skills, the vet and a security guard (David Lucas) free students — especially the girl crush — and take back the campus.

Take The Daily Wire release off the opening credits and you still find yourself facing a film where every scene is sloppily scripted and pointlessly progresses past any perceived dramatic or plot-function “payoff.”

The ’90s pop layered onto the soundtrack — Third Eye Blind, “Breakfast at Tiffanies” — is just…off, and there’s no explaining it away.

Writer-director Kyle Rankin’s so worried about “agenda” that his movie is laughably obvious and clumsy in expressing that agenda, and utterly lacking anything recognizably human in the caricatured characters or performances.

And through it all, in his few scenes, Majors looks something between glad-to-have-a-job and embarassed.

Because there are worse things than being “canceled.” Taking the wrong gig to make your “comeback” is one.

Rating: violence, racism, homophobia and profanity

Cast: Jonathan Majors, JC Kilcoyne, Tyler Aser, Stephen Hailo, James Bingham, Charlotte Delaney Riggs, Savannah Leigh James, Chase Ramsey and David Lucas.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Kyle Rankin. A Daily Wire release.

Running time:

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Movie Review: Son learns Extremist Politics from his Daddy via “The Militia”

I can’t speak for all critics, but “character arc” is not somthing I spend a lot of time musing over when evaluating a movie.

The heroine’s or hero’s journey is a given, usually predictable but a necessary component of compelling drama. The accepted wisdom that taking the viewer from where the character starts to how they’ve “changed” by the closing credits is cinematically essential.

But one pretty much has to address the absence of what one would call an “arc” to the hero of “The Militia.”

It’s a sturdy character study in radicalization and a sober portrayal of the disaffected, gun-fetishizing white men of rural America who don camo, tac’up and play soldier on weekends in the American tradition of “resisting tyranny.”

Except the “radicalization” has already happened when we meet the son (Sam Williamson) who is a Missouri home-schooled chip off the old militia-member dad (Michael Broderick) block. Son
Daniel’s “journey” is a short one, and father Lee’s is non-existent, allowing no room for regrets or remorse.

Daniel, who turns 17 the day after we meet him, has a regular hang with his buds from church. They don camo and helmets and gear-up for realistic laser tag combat. Daniel is the leader of this quintet (Elliott Daggett, Scott Callenberger, Noah Aronstein and Solomon Puckett) by training and by birth.

His Army vet father Lee doesn’t just train with the local militia, where he’s one of the higher ups. He trained Daniel as well.

Lee is a non-nonsense control freak, a less overly bullying version of “The Great Santini.” Farmer Lee has raised his son to be just like him, and mom’s (Laura Feierbach) home schooling — with special emphasis on Civil War battles and “what they teach” him — backs that up.

Dad’s “control” vanishes when the new sheriff (Luke Stratte-McClure) pulls them over and busts Lee for having a truckload of off-the-books assault weapons. Lee’s hostile non-compliance is by-the-book “Constitutionalist.” And obstinate.

“You wanna tell me where you’re coming from today?

“No, we do not.”

That starts up this low-heat thriller’s steady escalation — jailing, armed interference in a court trial, etc. — that slow-walks us toward us toward that moment of truth confrontation.

Writer-director Dylan King Welter’s arm’s length approach to his second feature means that the movie doesn’t take a stand on the issues it brings up.

The father’s unreasonable, unbending and determined to not comply with rules and treatment he has decided that he doesn’t deserve due to his “God given rights,” and the viewer can infer, his white privilege in rural Red State America.

“Aren’t you breaking the law,” the son wants to know?

“My law is complicated,” is Dad’s evasive reply.

Our lawman assures his suspect that “We’re on the same side,” which plays right into the image of policing in general, the rural American variety especially so. But militia tracking and logging sheriff’s department communications and travel routines is enough to get the new sheriff’s back up.

The viewer, depending on her or his politics, is left to filter what we see through our own prism. These are “rightous, God-fearing people” who take Constitutional liberties in the “literal” way they interpret or miinterpret the document. Or they’re belligerant racists who claim they’ve armed themselves to resist “tyranny” but do nothing when a tyrant takes over, starts wars, murders civilians at home, at sea and in foreign lands, steals and self-deals and is left unchecked by a feckless Congress and fascist sympathizing courts.

The acting is more competent than compelling — low heat, all across the board. And Big Dramatic Moments are so lacking that when one or two show up, they’re so underplayed as to land flat.

But it’s the not “taking sides” that robs “The Militia” of its dramatic potential. And without character arcs — “learning” or “growing” — or real consequences, the dramatic stakes are lowered in a movie that seems to lack nerve or a defensible point of view.

“The Militia” thus feels like an exhibition bout where both fighters pull their punches. These delusional yahoos want to re-fight the Civil War. Not coming out and saying it makes your movie gutless.

Rating: unrated, violence, profanity

Cast: Sam Williamson, Michael Broderick, Luke Stratte-McClure, Laura Feierbach, Chris Bylsma and Elliott Daggett.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Dylan King Welter. A Freestyle release.

Running time: 1:55

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Documentary Review: Mr. Navel Gazing “How To” Kvetches through “The History of Concrete”

“The History of Concrete” is an amusing amble through that construction material’s lineage, especially as it pertains to New York. And New Yorkers.

It’s by doc filmmaker/essayist John Wilson, which should tell you its light tone and short-attention-span aimlessness, if you recall his quirky and quixotic HBO series “‘How To’ with John Wilson.”

The new doc is basically an extension of that three-years-canceled series, a film about a documentary filmmaker groping about for a subject that interests him and lends itself to his voice-over-narrated drollery after losing that series.

He wants to “make art.” Wilson needs that “art” to be something other people will want to see and thus a film third parties will want to invest in. Tricky.

“You never felt so helpless,” he says, in that NPR “storytelling” style he’s adopted. Every pause in every second person point-of-view sentence is packed with performantive pauses.

“You live in a…historical designated neighborhood.” “You’re…constantly surrounded on all sides….by concrete trucks.”

That’s his experience of New York. That’ll be his subject, “the second most used material on the planet.”

Concrete. Not just “cement.” Wilson has others explain the difference as he learns it for the first time. He relates to the crumbling foundation of the old inner-city house with upstairs and downstairs apartments that he bought when his checks from HBO weren’t residuals for .49 cents. He sees the “poor craftsmanship” of the shoddy repairs of the boroughs’ gutters, kerbs and sidewalks. He has an expert point to the cracking and rusting (exposed rebar) state of bridges, overpasses and buildings all around him.

“You,” John Wilson, have your next film’s subject. It’s only after shooting lots of footage, chats and encounters and watching concrete as it is being made, worked, repaired and still crumbling, followed by Zoom meetings with possible financiers. that he begins to question it.

“The material…you had so far wasn’t really…exciting anybody.”

What’s fun here is Wilson’s roundabout way of getting to that point. He starts the film lamenting the loss of cachet and fame and salary that his series gave him, stumbles across a “How to Write Hallmark Movies” Reddit, and attends a Writing a Hallmark Movie workshop where he learns their magic formula and why The Hallmark Channel will be the last cable service standing.

A Hallmark employee, working at the mundane concrete warehouse/soundstages complex just across the border in Canada where a lot of these “Second Chance Love in the Boondocks” “Meeting Mr. Right at Christmas” tales are shot lets slip the brand’s best unkept secret.

“We’re telling the same story over and over…Wash, rinse and repeat.”

No, Wilson won’t make a Hallmark movie or shoot an Arby’s commercial. He’ll get financing, fly to Rome where he asks construction workers and Roman cops standing in front of the ancient concrete-domed Pantheon “the secret” to Roman “self-healing” concrete.

Like they’ll know.

He travels to Bellefontane, Ohio, home of the “first concrete street in America,” which was built in 1891 and is patched to death and still crumbling under the weight of modern traffic. He’ll ride along with a driving school instructor as she has students use that street, and where she also points out “The Highest Point in Ohio” and “The Shortest Street in the U.S.”

“The History of Concrete” is random by intention, quirky by discovery. The film coincidentally arrives the same summer as a “comeback” film by the documentary essayist who invented the genre, Ross McElwee. He’s the fellow who made “Sherman’s March” back in the ’80s, a doc that started out as a “lingering legacy of the Civil War” in the South and morphed into a navel gazing account of other our filmmaker’s quest — with the assistance of others — to find love that lasts in the Reagan ’80s.

“Concrete” comes out in the Youtube/Instagram era when we’re all “stars” of our own videos. There are laughs in it. Wilson’s mania for videoing any business or street sign with “Butt” or “Tit” in it ironically lowbrow. His cute interviews, ducking onto indie film shoots (uninvited), sampling the “apartment as music venue” mania among his peers, joining the city’s lone “Gum Buster” for a cleaning session of gun removal from sidewalks, are both revealing and cute.

But Wilson’s wandering efforts to connect with a musician or music group worthy of a “rockumentary” before lurching back to New York’s “too much/too little” concrete problem (affordable housing vs. organized “NIMBYs”) and his constant dry, semi-detached/semi-ironic second-person narration compensating for the lack of focus by declaring the metaphor in all this is “everything’s impermanent” makes this an acquired taste.

So in Wilson-speak terms, “You” might like it more than I did.

Rating: unrated, some profanity

Cast: John Wilson, Michael Rispoli, many others

Credits: Scripted and directed by John Wilson. A Magnolia release.

Running time: 1:01

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Movie Review: “Practical Magic 2” Stops the Clock

No major motion picture as mediocre as “Practical Magic 2” deserves the emotional response this film sometimes generates.

It’s released 28 years after the original film, with its two stars — Sandra Bullock and Nicole Kidman –– having collected Academy Awards in the interim. They’re rejoined by their grandes dames supporting “aunties,” Dianne Wiest and Stockard Channing, with the formidable Danish director Susanne Bier (“In a Better World,” “After the Wedding,” “Birdbox”) taking over behind the camera.

That earned them an impressive near-blockbuster opening weekend, so “Magic 2” feels like a celebration of sorts, especially for women who — like its stars — have survived a fraught couple of decades in a man’s business in a man’s world seemingly at war with them since the original film came out.

But if you have trouble remembering the “Practical” original, that’s because it’s forgettable. And the sequel doubles down on forgettability, an empty husk of an all-star extravaganza, a “Harry Potter” or “Hocus Pocus” for grownups.

The romance, source of a witch family “curse” in the first film, is downplayed to the point of nearly omitted altogether. The moment the stakes and plot turn towards “perilous” is laughably abrupt, one of the few real “laughs” in the damned thing.

And then the climax is slowly steamrolled by a parade of anti-climaxes, with any sense of a “graceful exit” beaten to death, even if there are plans for “Practical Magic 3.”

But don’t Kidman and Bullock look fabulous, returning to roles they first played in their ’30s? That seems to be the emphasis here, two 60somethings reprising versions of two sisters at war with their witchy heritage decades after they should have settled the matter, once and for all.

Sally (Bullock) found her “happily ever after” in “Magic 1” with Gary (Aidan Quinn), seemingly breaking “The Curse” that hung over the supernatural women of the Massachusetts branch of the Owens family. But Gary died between films, leaving the fussbudget librarian who finds “comfort in order” with two daughters, who’ve grown up to be a boy-magnet coed (Joey King) and a med student (Maisie Williams) about to be a full fledged doctor.

Sally’s dizzy, partying, don’t-love’em-and-still-leave’em sister Gillian, Gilly (Kidman) kept her vow not to do witchy things or tell Sally’s daughters about their bloodline. Gillian took the curse, that any Owens woman who falls in love is doomed to see that lover die, seriously. She never fell in love.

But the ageing spinster wiccans who raised them, Aunt Jet (Wiest) and Aunt Frances (Channing) are still around, still expressing concern. And Jet is having a birthday. It doesn’t matter that the town shuns them, save for the lovelorn or lovesick young women who seek the “weird sisters”‘ magical assistance. The three generations of Owens women can still have a party.

But that’s where we figure out what why they’re seeing ravens in town,. That’s what that “Raven” book Aunt Jet has been re-reading is for. That’s when we first see and hear the scarab, “The Deathwatch Beetle.” Someone in their ranks is doomed.

That death leads to blurted revelations to Sally’s daughters. And as daughter Kylie (King, of “The Kissing Booth” Netflix movies, “Bullet Train” and “Radium Girls”) is in the process of falling in love, she finds herself making a guilt trip to the Olde Country (Britain) to the family’s ancestral home to break the curse and save the life of her beloved.

Naturally Sally and by extension Gilly set off in pursuit. Slowly.

They’ll deal with hexes and curses and bad blood going back centuries and a naked professor (Lee Pace) who needs…reviving. And consulting.

That near-nude hex scene is as naughty or edgy as this romance novel piffle gets. Big questions hang around the periphery but are never addressed head-on in the story. Sally’s determined to never “like” again, much less “love.” Gilly’s issues are mainly with her sister’s denial of their “powers” and heritage.

The pacing is leaden, and then there’s the abrupt turn towards imminent peril, which is every bit as juvenile as the most inispid Harry Potter showdowns.

But King sells the pathos of young love, Kidman makes the most she can of the most fun character (the script is…lacking) and Bullock trots out her perfectly-preserved “While You Were Sleeping” sad and loveless face in most every scene.

The film seems structurally bound to serve the older leading ladies, leaving the younger ones (“Game of Thrones” alumna Williams has nothing to play) shortchanged and the elder stateswomen only a few moments to sparkle.

And yet for all that, it touches us here and there — even, for the briefest of moments, in that excruciating drawn-out finale.

As with her Netflixt film with Bullock, Bier is better than this material. The film has a fine sheen to it, and there’s gloss in the effects and in the makeup, which touches up what filler does its best to hide. But there’s almost nothing of substance here.

One would like to think our younger “older” stars would look to the example of Wiest, ageing with grace and beauty, instead of competing to see who can out-skinny or under-wrinkle their 20something supporting starlets.

But Nic and Sandy negotiated and bonded and worked out a deal and made a sequel to a film whose big screen success was magnified to the n’th degree on TV reruns and streaming into a fan favorite.

And if it’s no better than the first film — and in some ways worse — this feminine cast and crew still deserve this victory lap with their female fans. Let’s just hope the towering talents here all parlay this hit into better roles, ones they can sink their teeth into and not their magic wands.

Rating: PG-13, profanity, adult situations,

Cast: Sandra Bullock, Nicole Kidman, Joey King, Maisie Williams, Dianne Wiest, Stockard Channing and Lee Pace.

Directed by Susanne Bier, scripted by Akiva Goldsman, Georgia Pritchett and Kelly Marcel, based on the novel by Alice Hoffman. A Warner Bros. release.

Running time: 2:10

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Movie Review: Djimon’s the Shuttle Bus Driver, Kodi’s “The Passenger” with a Bomb

“The Passenger” is a classic “two-hander,” a thriller that parks two characters center stage and piles on suspense in a battle of wits, agendas and brawn over the course of a long shuttle bus ride.

It stars Djimon Hounsou as a Somali immigrant driver trapped in his vehicle on a long haul with a lone rider (Kodi Smit-McPhee) who, it turns out, planted a bomb at the Minneapolis-St. Paul airport and is now apparently making his getaway.

Now throw away all of the promise of that premise, all the bickering over who will get blamed for the bombing if they get stopped — the young white guy or the Muslim — all the fraught potential over being a hostage of a killer who might kill again.

Because this Vadim Perelman adaptation of a Bennett Fisher play is pretty much dead on arrival. I’d call it a non-starter, but it sets up well, showing us a bit of the background of our put-upon driver and suggesting some mystery to the mad-eyed bomber.

It’s well cast, and the setting has built-in claustrophobia. The stakes couldn’t be higher, a terrorist who could strike again and a hapless working man who sees that, and the personal cost that picking up the wrong passenger has for him, his wife (Leigh-Ann Rose) and child.

“If I get pulled over I lose it all!”

But director Perelman, famous for “The House of Sand and Fog,” fails at almost every turn when it comes to building suspense.

The film practically pauses as our manic, rambling, drug-snorting 20something launches into his manifesto — his scatterbrained reasons for carrying out this heinous act against innocents. And it’s not like “The Passenger” was hurtling towards a nerve-wracking climax before that, or after it.

“I tried to do something good!” may be the silliest line in the history of unintentionally silly villain lines. The questioning of Hassan, “Ever think about going back?” (to Somalia) and “The whole ‘Blackhawk Down’ thing,” provokes eye-rolls as well.

There’s an awkward stop at a convenience store, a racist tirade by a customer and young Lloyd’s profane, over-the-top response, which is just the thing a hoodie-wearing bomber needs to be doing, seeing as how the authorities are already looking for the Somali driver with a backpack seen looking sketchy on CCTV cameras at the airport.

But whatever forward progress the narrative makes on this “I’ll pay cash” off-the-books ride to Chicago, the lack of urgency takes away.

Former child actor Smit-McPhee (TV’s “Disclaimer”) doesn’t dial up the mania to make his character feared, fanatical or even understandable as a fictional creation. Disenchanted “Lloyd” is just a collection of tics and self-aborbed, murky grievances.

Hounsou never phones it in, but we can feel his loss of faith in the screenplay in the middle acts, before the melodrama of the Big (not really) Finish.

Everybody involved has been better in other films and series. Which is why we acknowledge the failed screenplay and blame it for the dull movie that came from it and the less-interesting-than-they-need to be characters portrayed in it.

Rating: TV-MA, violence, profanity

Cast: Djimon Hounsou, Kodi Smit-McPhee, Carolina Campos and Leigh-Ann Rose

Credits: Directed by Vadim Perelman, scripted by Bennett Fisher, based on his play. A Vertical release on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:33

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