Series Review: Not Your Grandpa’s “Grand Tour”

The dropping of a new series of “The Grand Tour” held about as much interest for me as the announcement that the BBC is re-engineering “Top Gear” for another run, this time with a comedian/car-nut as its center.

It’s TV, remember. So British or not, you know all involved are thinking “youth movement.”

The rebooted “Grand Tour,” which is where the most celebrated “Top Gear” went when Jeremy Clarkson got fired and ended his and James May and Richard Hammond’s run of a series that began decades before them and continues after they left, throws three new strangers at the car review/car stunts/epic treks.

Old man Clarkson’s running “Clarkson’s Farm” and making bank for Amazon, thank you very much. Renaissance man James May is dabbling in travel shows and the like. And Richard Hammond, going grey and yet the youngest of those three — he’s 54 — is running a classic car restoration shop with a TV crew following him around.

The new guys are a personable, irritable Canadian youtube “car enthusiast,” Thomas Holland (38ish?), his “Throttle House” channel-mate James Engelsman (35), a Brit, and British engineer/nerd/trainspotting influencer Francis Bourgeois, the stage name of 26 year old Luke Nicholson.

If car culture and motoring enthusiasm is to have a future, the toothy, goofy, gawky Bourgeious is supposed to be its face, I guess? A little of him goes a long way, as he gives off this or that “Top Gear” replacement-who-didn’t-work-out vibes.

That’s one’s first take-away from this new series, which repeats “Top Gear” and “Grand Tour” gimmicks, takes us to a few new places — Malaysia and Malaysian drifting and car-decorating culture (think SoCal in the early 2000s), Pikes Peak for a race of tiny, underpowered but practical Japanese “Kei cars” — along the way.

Series reviewers have an unwritten code that says one must watch at least three episodes of a new show to review it, and even then you’re spitballing whether it’s going to work, who will rise to the top of the cast and if the chemistry will ever get there.

Series producers know that and make sure — no matter how pedestrian, derititave and blase the first two shows are — that the third episode is a winner.

That’s what happens here, as genre fans struggle to identify with this new trio, their forced bonhomie and their dental work. Even during Hammond’s “tooth whitening” days, we never saw this much toothy grinning from the old gits who used to get themselves in over their heads with this or that motorsports event or motoring predicament.

The third and fourth episodes send the guys off to convince America that “smaller is better,” and all most any pickup owner will ever need is a 40-60hp Honda Acty or the like, all any sports car enthusiast needs is a Suzuki Alto. But Kei cars are undersized and road-illegal in much of the U.S. So getting from Wyoming to Pike’s Peak, Colorado, will take some lumber roads and 4×4 trails, and one amusing bit of business involved covering the cars with a three-sectioned school bus shell to disguise them on Colorado tourist town streets.

The engineer is the enthusiastic pedant, the Canadian quick tempered and quicker with a U.S. policing/Teslas aren’t selling “I wonder why?” crack and the Brit is there because of well, birthright, I guess.

If this was an America-based series (they still refer to costs in pounds sterling, and horsepower in Brithis “brake horsepower”), you’d have to have a Latin car culture representative among the drivers. Because if car culture has a present and future in the U.S., it has a Spanish surname.

Some years back, for a magazine article on car collecting (the core audience of this sort of show), a successful dealer of restored classics told me men (mostly white) get into this in their late 50s and get out of it after ten years or so, on average.

That’s the “base” demographic these shows are pitched to. Most car repair/restoration shows skew “resto-mod” younger, and are just as dependent on “chararacters” at “The Grand Tour” and its “Top Gear” antecedent.

But as a guy keeping a 2003 Subaru Baha rustbucket going (fingers crossed) doing his own work on a ten year old Wolfsburg Edition Golf, I have to say that I look out the window at a drought stricken, over-heated part of America, that my tolerance for shows mocking the need to get away from hydrocarbons is spent.

It went away with the dinosaurs who retired from “The Grand Tour.”

If you’re younger than that and still burning fuel and burning tires oblivious to what that costs the planet, youtube is where you belong.

Maybe the chemistry will click more than we can tell from the first season. Maybe younger viewers hunger for a perpetually-grinning peer who gushes “It’s got me by the underwear, and it’s giving me a BRUTAL wedgie!” We’ll see.

But the odd remark about how “anti-social” America’s mania for two times the size we actually need a pickup truck to be is (I test drove a kei truck or two, and these three have no IDEA what the damned things cost) doesn’t justify the need for a show that covers too much of the same ground as its many predecessors.

It’s not your grandpa’s “Grand Tour.” Except it is. For now. Adding the three elder statesmen to the show as gurus they visit doesn’t work. At all, “torch passing” be damned.

The “car porn” that “Top Gear” heralded and that producer/creator Andy Wilman perfected is still very much an addiction for some. But the bloom has gone off that rose, and when it’s hot enough and the bees are dead, it won’t be blooming again any time soon.

We’ll see if these three mesh, if their geeky Power Rangersish “Kei Team” chemistry comes to feel less forced. Will they manage a little conflict beyond the odd moment of competitiveness?

And we’ll see if they find enough new wrinkles in old car quests/car tests/car gimmicks that decades of “Top Gear” and “Grand Tour” seasons trotted out to make the show a draw.

But it’s not just Clarkson and May and people their age who’re pretty sure the time for all that has passed.

Rating: TV-14, a bit of swearing, wot wot?

Cast: James Engelsman, Thomas Holland and Francis Bourgeois, with Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammon and James May.

Credits: Created by Andy Wilman, scripted by Sam Philip. An Amazon Prime release.

Running time: episodes six @ :55 minutes each

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BOX OFFICE: “Spider-Man” approaches All Time Record, “Odyssey” Clears a $Billion, “By Any Means” cracks Top Five

Labor Day Weekend is both a four-day weekend, and the “last weekend of summer” as far as the movies go.

So all the $numbers piled up and reported here will be for the four days of the first moviegoing weekend of September.

“Spider-Man: Brand New Day” devoured the summer of ’26, and adding another $21 million (per Deadline.com) which puts it within reach of “Star Wars: The Force Awakens” as the all time “domestic” (North America) box office champ.

“Force Awakens” earned $936 million pre-Trumpflation bucks back in 2015, in North America alone. “Brand New Day” will be over the $920 million mark by midnight Monday.

But the movie’s box office take is slacking off enough to notice. It’s losing some weekdays to “The Odyssey,” which just cleared the $1 billion mark, only that’s the worldwide take of Christopher Nolan’s greatest hit. It’s closing in on $1.6 million, domestic and worldwide.

“Coyote vs. Acme,” the movie Warner Bros. didn’t want to release, will add another $13 million over this four day holiday. That gives Ketchup Entertainment a prayer of earning back its $50 million purchase of the WB’s much more expensive than that cast-off. It’s over $35 and may clear $50 before September is done, making any post-theatrical sale to streaming something close to pure profit.

Smart, Ketchup. Very smart.

Fourth place is a dead heat between Disney/Pixar’s “Cars” re-release — a twenty year old film whose first fans are taking their children to see it — and the new Paramount mob muscles Mississippi bigots thriller, “By Any Means,” with both films on track to clear $8 million.

“Cars” struck me at the time as the first misstep Pixar made, a franchise launched by a studio that manufactured good reviews by cherry picking who got the “first look” at it. They built a whole, soulless franchise out of that, with “Planes” and increasingly crappy toy-sales-oriented pictures.

But rediscovering the found-money in re-releasing old titles could discourage Disney’s out-of-ideas/let’s remake-everything ethos (“Moana” was a warning shot). So “Cars” selling nearly a million tickets isn’t a bad thing.

“By Any Means” proves Mark Wahlberg still has an audience, even if it’s Yahya Abdul-Mateen II‘s movie, as far as leading man goes. It’s earning mixed to negative reviews across the board.

“Insidious: Out of the Further” keeps cashing in, with another $7 million (four day) weekend, good enough for sixth place.

I was going to stick around for A24’s “Onslaught” after catching “By Any Means.” But end of summer sci-fi — genetic soldiers, Dan Stevens and what not — is rarely anything worth sitting in a theater with. Weak reviews and a $2.7 million take won’t have anybody popping champagne corks at the distributor’s closed-for-the-holiday-weekend offices.

It’ll be battling for seventh place with “Fall 2: Deadpoint,” another dangling from very-high-places thriller from the makers of “Fall.”

That leaves “End of Oak Street,” “Mutiny,” “Buddy,” and “The Dog Stars” battling for the final two spots in the final box office weekend of the summer. Figure “Dog Stars” and “Mutiny” have the inside track on staying in the top ten, as “Tony,” “Spa Weekend” and “Paw Patrol” don’t have anything left in the tank.

Check back later in the weekend as I’ll update this when more data comes in, despite the fact that we’re all supposed to be off baking in the climate-changed heat.

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Movie Review: Eyes Off the Prize? Civil Rights Justice “By Any Means”

The all-too-human lust for vengeance collides with the faint hope for justice in “By Any Means,” a Civil Rights thriller set in the “Mississippi Burning” timeline.

It’s a violent “true enough for Hollywood” tale of torture and summary executions in pursuit of Mississippi racists who murdered a civil rights leader.

What director Elegance Bratton (“The Inspection”) was shooting for was an upending of the “white savior” trope that films since before “To Kill a Mockingbird” and after “Mississippi Burning” have leaned on.

uppose your “white savior” is a pitiless, amoral and murderous mobster?

But the film’s script (by Sascha Penn, a producer who wrote “Creed II” among other credits) forgets to give us a villain, leaving us a vague “They’re all guilty” parade of colorless, stupid, white supremacist rednecks.

And Bratton and Penn drain most of the pathos out of the deaths of a couple of civil rights figures played by the formidable Giancarlo Esposito and LisaGay Hamilton.

Two years after the Chaney, Goodman and Schwerner murders that were the basis for “Mississippi Burning,” and things are no better in the “Segretation now, segregation forever” Deep South. The F.B.I., a little more integrated since that notorious case, is embedded there and getting nowhere.

Special Agent Wayne Strider (Yahya Abdul-Matteen II, “Manta” in an “Aquaman,” a mainstay of TV’s “The Get Down”) has returned to his native Mississippi for a chance to make a difference, only to be consigned to the filing department archives.

But his bosses (David Strathairn and Josh Lucas) change their tune with D.C. higher-ups decide to bring back a “no rules” thug who helped them crack the Chaney, Goodman and Schwerner murder case by breaking some heads.

Gregory Scarpa (Mark Walhberg, at his most ripped) is only referred to by name in the closing credits. He’s a notorious piece of F.B.I. civil rights era lore (the Bureau denies hiring this killer) who loomed in the background of “Mississippi Burning.” You’ve got your guy and he won’t confess? Mr. “Uniquely Qualified” for this sort of work, Mr. “I HAVE no rules” is your man.

He’ll beat confessions, get bloodied torture subjects to name names, and bust up the murderous KKK and its various “white citizens’ councils” one broken man or dead body at a time.

Wahlberg plays the guy as almost irresistably loathesome, a monster with a family of five he cheats on, and leaves behind in Bensonhurst, blackmailed (he’s a mob informant) into heading back South and doing what he does.

Strider? “You’re to be his handler.”

A “buddy” picture is in the making, with Strider reluctant to try and “explain racism to someone like you” as Mr. Colombo Crime Family expresses disdain for Martin Luther King, Jr., and a preference for “that other guy, Malcolm.”

You know, the one who decided passive resistance against racist oppressors was too slow when winning equal rights and treatment under the law “by any means necessary” seemed like the quicker, if more violent way to go.

The movie’s glib and muted in its impact, right from the start. Screenwriter Penn makes the bickering cliched and the actors do nothing to stop him.

Having our mobster try to convince our “colored” agent to see things his way? No and then “yes” happen so close together it’s a wonder Mateen didn’t give himself the same whiplash the movie gives viewers. Of course it has something to do with “they came after my WIFE” (Nicole Beharie).

A racist, threatening Alabama highway patrolman gets it and all Scarpa wants is a “Thank-you.” Well, not exactly. Our screenwriter throws in “Can I get a smile?” to try and get a laugh.

Walhberg plays to the audience as he tortures this or that hapless, tables-turned oppressor.

“There’s a point where everybody talks,” he tells his victims. Former child actor Ethan Embry is the most recognizable member of the Hattiesburg, Mississippi KKK lynch mob.

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Movie Review: Godawful Gal can’t get “The Runner” up to Speed

The star is generally too easy a target when you’re looking for the ways a movie goes wrong.

So if we’re cutting Gal Gadot any slack at all for the debacle that “The Runner” turned out to be, let’s zero in on screenwriter Mark Gibson, who scripted um, “Snow Dogs,” the animated also-ran “The Wild” and nothing of any note at all starring flesh and blood humans.

Director and Bob Marley-fan pal Kevin Macdonald did “The Last King of Scotland,” “The Mauritanian” and terrific documentaries about Marley, Whitney Houston and others. If this pavement-pounding piffle has any pace or pulse at all, credit him.

Gadot? She stars as a dogged prosecutor and single mom whose son is kidnapped to coerce her into killing her star witness at a big mob trial.

She’s convincing as a lithe, athletic jogger who finishes off every phone call with “I’ve gotta run.” We can believe she’d be a willing trigger-woman.

But as a mother desperate to save her child, she’s about as empathetic as a shark. More to the point, whatever compelling touches the screenplay adds to the character — thinly-fictionalized touches of Charlize Theron’s real life background — Gadot fails on most every level in making her or her plight all that interesting.

Maia drops her clingy son (Rory Wilmot) off at his London school on the opening day of her big trial prosecuting a London mob leader for murder. Then she’s off on her morning run.

She and the viewer are utterly beaten about the ears with a parade of digitally-distracted pedestrians, bystanders, drivers and passengers, conversing on phones, swapping sexy texts, doom scrolling or distracting themselves with TikTok.

That’s the big subtext of the movie, our “devices” have disconnected us. Yawn.

A lawyer lady can’t even run with her Bluetooth ear buds without getting scam calls telling her she’s “already won.”

But one caller isn’t is scammer with a South Asian accent. “I have your son,” he purrs. Apparently, her fraidy-cat kid just wandered off with the first strange man (Damien Lewis, “Band of Brothers”) to offer him ice cream.

“Just think of me as a force for change.”

What she has to do to free her diabetic child is run across town to the hotel where Scotland Yard is guarding her star witness, take a gun the kidnapper’s put in her son’s backpack — which he hid in a dumpster — and gun down the mob turncoat.

The mostly-unseen stranger (we can see Lewis’s chin and hear his distinct voice), with the cliched world-of-tech screens and gadgets at EveryVillain’s disposal, knows all about competitive, can-do “killer” Maia. He can control her phone, AI mimic her voice to ward off work and school calls, and deep dive into her bikini or underwear-clad laptop photos just to show he means business.

What CAN Maia do, on the run through parks, crowded streets, along the river and canals, into The Tube, unable to call or even accost cops or strangers with her plight as our kidnapper keeps her line open and hears and tracks her every move.

Gadot’s Maiia will steal a cell phone — several — in an effort to reach out for help. She’ll outrun owners of various ages, have her own phone stolen, get violent and be chased by London’s finest for that.

The picture does a piss-poor job of maintaining the “ticking clock” element of this ticking clock thriller. The child in jeopardy is an underdeveloped plot point, as diabetic shock and diabetic coma are introduced and underplayed.

But the real failing here is in getting across our heroine’s breathless desperation and letting us follow along as she works the problem. The first is Gadot’s failing, and the second a scripted shortcoming that the director doesn’t fix.

It’s a bold thriller these days that allows a kid or the parent trying to save them die. Suffice it to say “bold” doesn’t figure in here. Showing us the far-fetched “solutions” to how what happens happens after the fact is always a cheat, and it isn’t well-handled here. At all.

“The Runner” might have merited a theatrical release, at least in someone’s eyes, at some point in the production process. But this script needed work, and if Ana de Armas or Leticia Wright weren’t available, plainly they should have kept casting until they found somebody with the warmth and mania necessary to convey a mother’s love for and then panic over the kidnapping of her darling boy.

Rating: PG-13, violence, profanity

Cast: Gal Gadot, Damien Lewis, Rory Wilmot and Alfred Enoch

Credits: Directed by Kevin Macdonald, scripted by Mark Gibson. An MGM release on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:25

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Movie Review: Ryan R. and Kenneth B. gun for “Top Gun” — “Mayday”

Let’s go with “adorably awful,” because “delightfully dumb” seems like a stretch.

“Mayday” is a pseudo-serious send-up of “Top Gun” starring two guys who should know better, but whose way with a punch line ensures it’ll at least serve up a few laughs.

Ryan Reynolds plays a hotshot 1980s Navy fighter pilot shot down “Behind Enemy Lines” who requires the help of an ex-KGB agent (Kenneth Branagh) gone Grizzly Adams, holed up in the wilderness, to get out.

They have many brawls and shootouts and narrow escapes in this action comedy.

When I first glanced at the ads for this Apple TV release, I thought they’d paired up RR with Zach Galifianakis, Look at that photo and tell me I’m seeing things.

I mean, come on.

We meet the hotshot pilot named Troy whose call sign is “Assassin” as he’s helping a fellow pilot get his F-18 on the deck of their carrier in the most outlandish or at least implausible means possible.

That puts Troy in line to fly in the second seat on an SR-71 Blackbird spy plane. No training or anything, he’s just plopped into the “black ops mission” jet and flown over the Soviet Union to photograph some new missile silos.

The pilot is killed when they’re shot down, and Troy is injured. But when he wakes up — to the sight of a Tom Cruise in “Top Gun” poster — he discovers he’s been saved by a big-bearded, half-ass-accented Ivan (actually Nikolai, “Call me NEEEEeek!”) who loves all things American — Springsteen and “Top Gun” especially.

Nikolai will help the out-of-his-depth Americanski escape, but not until “the Cold War is over.” Sure, Gorbachev’s in power and he and chickenhawk Reagan are talking. But Troy bolts free to try and call the AMERICAN EMBASSY from a Russkie roadhouse. That…doesn’t go well.

And so on.

This two-hander — with Marcin Doracinski as the KGB chief hunting them, Maria Bakalova as “the daughter” and David Morse as the sickly ex-shipbuilder dad “back home” — borrows from the titles mentioned above, “Top Gun” and “Behind Enemy Lines,” and also the Eastwood Soviet era thriller “Firefox.”

But co-writers/directors John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein (they did the latest “Dungeons and Dragons” and also “Game Night”) are more interested in finding laughs than fretting over plot points.

The running gags start with “Top Gun” references and Springsteen’s “Born in the USA” LP — on cassette, of course.

The punchlines are peppered with “ride into the danger zone” jokes and “Red Roof Inn” references. Not really side splitters, but the fights are fun and there are sight gags in the finale that will make your jaw drop before the guffaw comes out.

Just remember, the title has two meanings and Reynolds turns 50 in October and Branagh is 65 and no Liam Neeson, so it’s all kind of a stunt man/makeup team/CGI assisted lark.

And “dumb” becomes a given, right from the start.

Rating: PG-13, violence, some profanity

Cast: Ryan Reynolds, Kenneth Branagh, Maria Bakalova, Donald Sales, Wendy Crewson and David Morse.

Credits: Scripted and directed by John Francis Daley and Jonathan Goldstein An Apple TV+ release.

Running time: 1:50

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Series Redux — “Saturday Night Live,” the First Season

I’ve been thinking a lot of late about Martin Short’s assertion — in Lawrence Kasdan’s “Life is Short” documentary — that “80 percent of comedy” fails, and the fact that he wasn’t talking just about his own efforts in landing laughs.

It pops into my head every time I watch a “Monty Python’s Flying Circus” re-run that doesn’t work. We remember classic bits of wordplay, history mocking “Spanish Inquistion” sketches, roundtable discussions with Marx, Mao, et. al. that devolve into an English football quiz show, dead parrots and silly songs and sillier walks. But it’s fair to say that as much as 80 percent of that legendary series wasn’t all that. And a lot of what they were performing was recycled from earlier shows the assorted Pythons appeared on and wrote for.

A whole season of “Python” flirted with being a complete washout, as did bits, sketches and episodes all along the way.

The news that Netflix has picked up the old episodes of Canada’s zany and ever-so-Canadian “SCTV” promises more reinforcement of former ensemble member Short’s maxim. Iconic in status and beloved, it was a meaner show, I always thought — with showbiz riffs, hockey hosers, polka band goofs and a whole lot of written and re-written, rehearsed and recorded on tape bits that still tickle, or still bomb. I’ll have to dig back into that to see if Guy Cabellero has aged better than I expected.

But the first season of the Canadian-pitched and packed “Saturday Night Live” — along with many other seasons — is on Amazon streaming, and I’ve killed a lot of the dog days of summer rewatching that seat-of-the-pants “live” comedy series’ debut year.

“Eighty percent failure” seems about right, no matter how much nervous tittering the in-studio audience did in response to hosts who bombed, sketches that struggled and characters that didn’t land.

The feature film “Saturday Night” did a grand job of taking us back to the first episode and the manic production of it that managed to fill 90 minutes of airtime way back in 1975. Bits of that premiere worked, as did concepts that were trotted out for the first time. But a lot of what they tried lands with a thud, especially now.

“Weekend Update” looked slapdash and only Chevy Chase’s mugging and low laughs — faking the voices of voice-over “correspondants” to make the “newscast” was everywhere covering everything — put it over that first season.

That, and “Generalissimo Francisco Franco is…still dead” gags.

George Carlin struggled so much doing his stand up in a few segments as that first host that he swatted the under-reacting studio audience with a “Heard this material before?” shot.

Rewatching the episode confirms the insincts of “Saturday Night,” the movie. The Muppets didn’t work and didn’t really fit all the way through that first season. When all else fails, drug jokes and sex jokes are your lifelines. Chase was destined for instant stardom. But Billy Preston showed up and kind of saved opening night.

And that set the tone for the rest of the season.

Paul Simon hosted an episode that had entirely too much music to be a hoot.

The cast was finding its voice and introducing characters — Gilda Radner’s Emily Litella, Chase’s clumsy Gerald Ford, Land Shark, John Belushi’s Samurai and Joe Cocker impression, Dan Aykroyd‘s series of motor-mouthed pitchmen, experts, sleazeballs and presidential candidate Jimmy Carter.

Were the assorted “killer bee” costumed bits ever all that?

The world and “SNL” discovered Candice Bergen‘s funnybone as the show only really found its footing the first time she hosted. They almost immediately brought her back for the Christmas show.

Rob Reiner (with then-wife Penny Marshall) turned out to fit in. Robert Klein should have been a no brainer, but his turn as host struggled.

They didn’t know what to do with Dick Cavett, Ford White House insider Ron Nessen (with Gerald Ford himself introducing the show), Dyan Cannon, Desi Arnaz senior or junior, Raquel Welch or Buck Henry, even though they gave Buck many more hosting chances, seeing how well his old, square but pervy persona contrasted with the writers’ drugs, sex and rock’n roll fixation.

There’s little that’s memorable about famed British comics Peter Cooke and Dudley Moore’s outing, either. They did sketches from their then-current show on Broadway, which play as dated now.

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Classic Film Review: Hello, Dolly — “9 to 5” becomes a Clarion Call for Working Women

You know and I know the title song “9 to 5” was always better than the movie “9 to 5,” right?

Memory can fix a “classic” film’s failings, and this one — a big, touched-a-nerve hit when it premiered in 1980 — lumbers along for a solid 70 minutes (out of a bloated 109 minute running time) before getting around to what it’s really about.

The slapstick and cutting remark comebacks produce highlights that stand out in one’s mind.

“I’ll tell you one thing. If you ever say another word about me or make another indecent proposal, I’m gonna get that gun of mine… And I’m gonna change you from a rooster to a hen with one shot!

The leading lady trio that ran the show sparkled, with Lily Tomlin doing the heavy lifting, Jane Fonda channeling her dizzy, retro “Barefoot in the Park” past as a house wife dumped for a younger woman and Dolly Parton making her screen debut with a heaping helping of country sunshine and sass. Dabney Coleman, at his most sexist and dastardly, was the perfect villain. You could believe this version of The Boss as bully — limited, potentially violent, promoted by a sexist ol’boy’s network culture, willing to steal credit for others’ ideas and looking down on women as inferior.

One remembers every good moment set to its syncopated, perfectly-crafted jewel of a title song, written by Dolly and nominated for an Oscar, even though it’s really only in the opening and closing credits.

“9 to 5” earned over $100 million in an era when movies rarely did that, especially movies without Luke Skywalker or Superman in them, and as I recall, it was a genuine crowd pleaser and really played with live audiences.

Fonda plays Judy, the newly-dumped new hire at a big corporation housed in a city high rise. Tomlin plays the boss’s “right arm,” Violet, the sharp and hyper-competent fixer who makes the trains run on time, even as mediocre men are promoted above her.

And Parton, who passed away as one of the most beloved figures American pop culture has ever produced last month, plays Doralee, the boss’s lusted-after secretary. She drawls. She drives to work in a Chevy Luv, the tiniest pickup truck of the day. Oh, and she keeps a pistol in her purse.

Dolly’s role is meant to be the scene stealer, and the petite Smokey Mountain blonde delivers. When an accident at work forces the three women to team up against hated boss Franklin (Coleman), Doralee’s the one who hog-ties the creep and waves her pistol in his face like she means business.

And when they’re at a loss about what to do to extricate themselves from kidnapping and attempted murder charges, she’s the one who makes the most sense and lands the movie’s biggest laugh.

“Well, I say we hire a couple’a wranglers to go upstairs and beat the s–t outta him!”

The movie’s other comic highlights are provided by Coleman, blustering, cussing and threatening even after he’s amusingly trussed up in a getup designed to keep him from escaping from his house — for a month. Yes, he did his own stunts (hoisted by his own petard, via a garage door opener), and Coleman made damned sure he play that physical shtick land.

God knows how he must have hated re-takes.

I was but a college radio station critic when this picture premiered, and remember feeling it was better at messaging — with the boss in lock-down, the women liberate their workplace — than at delivering laughs.

As a director (“Foul Play,””The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas”), Colin Higgins was always better appreciated as the writer of “Harold and Maude,” “Silver Streak” and “Foul Play.” The originating writer of this workplace comedy was Patricia Resnick, who wrote Robert Altman’s “comeback” classic “The Player.” Higgins rewrote her script, but he didn’t write, shoot or edit it for pace.

He’d only direct four films, and none of them lost money. But his career and life were shortened by AIDS.

What’s a bit jaw-dropping about “9 to 5” now is the hot button issues it brings up in an America in the process of failing to pass the Equal Rights Amendment are still with us. Turning the movie into a TV series didn’t change American politics.

Equal pay for equal work? “Job sharing?” A workplace-provided daycare is still the Holy Grail in a culture that refuses to address that most basic “right” as the people who fight all these changes the hardest try to figure out ways to force women to have more children.

So the film is more of a “feminist classic” than a comedy for the ages. It’s still a classic, even if its greatest pleasure these days is in breaking down that title tune as you hear it on the soundtrack — the workplace timeclock ticking rhythm, the compact storytelling in every phrase and Dolly’s triumphant performance of what still feels, well, revolutionary 46 years after she composed it.

“‘9 to 5,’ yeah, they got you where they want you
There’s a better life and you think about it, don’t you?
It’s a rich man’s game no matter what they call it
And you spend your life puttin’ money in his wallet.”

Rating: PG, a little violence, a smattering of profanity

Cast: Jane Fonda, Lily Tomlin, Dolly Parton, Dabney Coleman and Sterling Hayden.

Credits: Directed by Colin Higgins, scripted by Patricia Resnick and Colin Higgins. A 20th Century Fox film now on Netflix, other streamers

Running time: 1:49

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Documentary Review: A Classic Film, Controversy, and Wounded Turkish Pride — “Midnight Return: The Story of Billy Hayes and Turkey”

There was a time when movies could create an international furor that could last for years — decades, even.

If you think North Korea’s war on Sony over “The Interview,” racist YA sci-fi fans fuming over the fact that Black people exist in the Future America of “The Hunger Games” or Marvel casting a woman as “Captain Marvel,” were big deals, you must have never crossed a picket line to see “The Last Temptation of Christ,” “Cruising” or “Caligula.”

And the biggest outrage of all might have been over the 1978 Alan Parker/Oliver Stone classic “Midnight Express,” which stirred up a stink at Cannes and went on to draw racist condemnation far and wide, and led to years of Turkish-led boycotts, which they talked racist Israel among others into piling onto.

It was an international incident which the Islamic world took seriously, at Turkey’s insistence, for decades.

That’s all remembered in “Midnight Return:  The Story of Billy Hayes and Turkey,” filmmaker Sally Sussman’s fine “as remembered/told-to” recounting of an American’s life imprisonment and escape and the making of one great films of that Great Film decade, the 1970s.

This documentary was finished and never really released outside of film festivals in 2016 but is now streaming.

It’s about a “true story” movie that had a real life “hero” drug smuggler and fantasist, Billy Hayes, who has never tired of telling and retelling his exploits, a narrator so “unreliable” that huge elements of his escape-from-a-Turkish-prison-tale absorbed inventions of Oliver Stone’s Oscar winning script and director Alan Parker’s revisions of it.

Hayes recounts his privileged upper middle class life and post-college exploits here, which climaxed with his encounter with Turkish “justice,” inhumane imprisonment and a harrowing escape, which everyone interviewed here admits was far less violent than the movie suggests.

Producers Peter Gruber and David Puttnam recount the media tsunami that drove them to get Hayes to put his story on paper (with a co-writer) for a book in a rush and their race to get the film in production once unproven screenwriter Stone (“Platoon,””Born on the Fourth of July,” “Salvador”) got his hands on that book.

Parker (“The Commitments,””Fame”) recalls “the greatest screenplay I’d ever read” while Stone remembers — smiling — the way the Brits Parker and Puttnam shunned him once he turned that script in, never inviting him to the Malta sets or to Cannes, shunning which the laugh-it-off Brits freely admit only ended when Stone took the Academy Award on Oscar night.

But the blowback on the film had already started, as we’re taken back not just to Cannes, but to the geopolitics of poppies — Nixon’s efforts to convince staunch ally Turkey, a rare secular state in the increasingly-hostile-to-the-West Islamic World, to stop growing the plants that heroin comes from.

Hayes was caught smuggling hashish (concentrated marijuana resin) — not his first time, he admits, something nobody knew until after the movie proclaiming his naivete was already out. At some point, the Turks decided to “make an example” of the young American who made the same pilgrimage as many of his classmates, to Istanbul — where scoring hash was easiest.

Life imprisonment was the judge’s reconsidered verdict.

Hayes’ friends, family and ex-girlfriend note his youthful bravado (recklessness) and the toll his actions took on them as a family as his imprisonment became its own international incident, a fact verified by U.S. consular officials of that region of that era.

But through it all, the Turks were raging at “this monster” and liar being treated as a “hero,” fuming over the movie’s negative depictions of Turks, the Turkish justice system and “Turkish prisons,” which became a cultural punchline that lasts to this day. It wasn’t just “The Simpsons” and “Seinfeld” that made “Turkish prison” jokes and “Midnight Express” homages.

The depths of the outrage — Turkish and Turkish American representatives talking about the “hurt” the film caused, the fictional speech Billy (played by the late Brad Davis) screamed in court about a nation of “pigs,” the lack of a single redeeming Turkish character (Wasn’t there a sympathetic inmate or two?) in a world of corrupt lawyers, nationalistic prosecutors and anal-raping prison guards — are surprising to see, now.

Turkey strong-armed other countries, from Ireland to Israel, to ban the film. They made threats about any Hayes plans to travel anywhere near the Middle East. And this went on for decades.

That was, to a lot of people, telling. And it points to the film’s great unasked question. No, Hayes never made that speech and Stone if not Parker (“Never apologize.”) has been apologetic about the film’s racial biases. No, the movie wasn’t wholly factual. Ex-girlfriend Barbara Belmont laughs off Hayes’ insistence that she bared her breasts to him while he was in prison, a scene Stone invented for the movie.

Hayes, as we watch “Midnight Return,” absorbs more and more of the movie as his “real experience,” never missing a chance to cash in and stay relevent by repeating the Hollywood exaggerations. I was reminded of Rudy Ruettiger, the real-life inspiration for “Rudy,” who validated his childhood obsession with playing for Notre Dame into a sentimental, fictionalized movie and who continues to live that fantasy to this day.

To her credit, Sussman doesn’t so much come out and say Hayes is a fantasist who can’t tell the difference between what really happened and what Hollywood exaggerated about his otherwise inconsequential life. She shows us these delusions as he finally returns to Turkey decades later and “remembers” this place or that one — not so much in reality, but in its cinematic production values — as he takes his “Midnight Express” tour.

But all these members of the Turkish diaspora kind of dance around the reasons for their depths of loathing for a movie that wrecked hashish tourism and most certainly had an impact on how Westerners perceived Turkey and avoided visiting the wonders of Istanbul for years.

It’s easy to conflate Turkey’s “massive resistence” to admitting it committing genocide against the Armenians with “proud” Turks insisting a movie exposing corruption and inhumane prison (and mental hospital) conditions and its role in the international drug trade as “offensive.”

I have thought, all along, that what really set these “proud” Turkish Muslims off was a plot element that Stone and the movie borrowed from “Lawrence of Arabia.” Sussman never asked the many Turks who appear on camera, “Wasn’t it the Turkish same sex rape that got your dander up?”

If they’re so resolvedly, uncompromisingly touchy about a fictionalized film with a lot of ugly truths tucked into it, might it be that Islamic homophobia was why Turkey took so very long to let its “Midnight Express” hatred go?

Turks may be relieved that “Midnight Return” dodges that as it transcends its “The Making of” documentary origins and asks non-Middle Eastern viewers to ponder the ancient prejudices that linger about Turks — who once overran Constantinople and Greece, enslaved European captives and threatened Europe for centuries.

But a more complete film would turn a mirror on the outraged and ask, “If your prisons and mental hospitals and courts were really like this, what is it that really set you off?”

Rating: unrated, graphic violence, drug content, profanity

Cast: Billy Hayes, Alan Parker, Oliver Stone, Barbara Belmont, David Puttman, Brad Davis, Turan Ayaz, Ahmet Ertegen, Robert Hayes, Dorothy Hayes and Michael Griffin.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Sally Sussman. A streaming on Tubi, Pluto TV and Plex.

Running time: 1:39

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Netflixable? DeNiro, Monaghan and Scott need answers from “The Whisper Man”

Crackling performances and a twisty plot that mixes melodrama with suspense recommend “The Whisper Man,” a new thriller based on an Alex North novel.

It’s “Silence of the Lambs” paying homage to “The Slender Man,” a tale of fathers and sons, missing children and a nursery-rhymed myth that’s all-too-real in this corner of North Jersey.

“If your window’s left unlatched, you’ll hear him tapping at the glass…”

“If you’re feeling sad and blue, The Whisper Man will come to you.”

Michelle Monaghan’s the efficient but seriously empathetic small city cop suddenly dealing with child abductions that mimic the crimes of a serial killer of decades before. “The Whisper Man” was caught, “doing life at Rahway (state prison).” So how could his crime spree be renewed?

The “hero cop” who caught him, “twenty, twenty-five years retired,” is played by Robert De Niro. He’s not able or necessarily willing to help. Until his grandson by his estranged, widowed novelist son (Adam Scott) is grabbed.

The clock is ticking on eight year-old Jake (Acston Luca Porto) as the police and the dad — unimpressed by lax policing and a lack of urgency in those in charge — chase clues and suspects, look at old files and ponder new clues.

If there’s an obvious gripe in this child-imperiled picture it’s the missing “clock” that should be ticking away, and the somewhat slack storytelling that New Zealand director James Ashcroft (“Coming Home in the Dark”) and his editor impose on it.

The frights come from violence that jolts as this sudden turn of events or that rash act blows up in our face. But a movie that should push its way from “routine procedural” to breathless desperation never gets up a head of steam.

We ponder who is little Jake’s imaginary friend in the blue sweater and if she is the one who talked him into letting this plastic-gloved stranger take him. And who is this “boy in the floor” the kid is obsessed with? Dad’s written off the kid’s mental struggles to the loss of his mother.

But De Niro’s retired Det. Pete Willis knew his quarry, Frank Carter, back then, and sees a new version of him now.

“Carter knew how to find the ones that wanted to die.

Carter would prod kids into giving cassette tape “interviews,” blaming their parents for their current plight. The new killer does that, too, peppering the tapes with vintage pop by Tiffany and En Vogue.

But Carter’s in prison. We finally get to sample Michael Keaton‘s tasty turn as Beetlejuice on lots and lots of Xanax, his lines delivered in a growled whisper, his “friendly” greetings and turns of phrase not hiding his malice or vengeful head games. Making the man who caught him — who lost his family over the obsession with catching this killer and rescuing his final victim — question his sanity and his own innocence is just part of it.

“Men like you and I don’t have friends, Pete.”

Hamish Linklater makes a big impression as a chic, urbane and inhumane “collector” of serial killer artifacts. You can smell the creep’s obsession and question his “I would never hurt a child” protestations.

Monaghan lets us glimpse a little heartbreak as she deals with deaths, new and old — the corpses of children hidden, buried or just dumped. That’s contrasted with the lazy unconcern of the first cop we meet after Jake experiences a near miss, something that the movie should have made much more out of, given what we know about policing in America these days.

De Niro is walking gravitas and lends credibility to every scene. It’s great to see him in something decent for a change, swapping moments with a cast striving to be his equal. Keaton lets us imagine the deep preparation and carefully considered disarming-with-an-edge tone he chose to play their scenes with.

Scott also holds his own with Oscar-nobility-Bob. But he plays the only character who gets manic over the time-running-out on his little boy, and he alone can’t juice the urgency that this brooding thriller needs in between the shocks.

“The Whisper Man” is good enough to sink your teeth into. It’s just not the exceptional movie meal it might have been with this cast and these performances.

Rating: R, graphic violence, images of child corpses, profanity

Cast: Robert De Niro, Michelle Monaghan, Adam Scott, Hamish Linklater and Michael Keaton.

Credits: Directed by James Ashcroft, scripted by Chase Palmer, based on a novel by Alex North. A Netflix release. \

Running time: 1:51

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BOX OFFICE: “Coyote vs. Acme” bests “Dog Stars,” “Insidious” slides behind “Odyssey,” “Spider-Man” takes another Weekend

I’m standing at the cineplex Thursday night pondering, “Do I duck into ‘Coyote vs. Acme’ after catching “The Dog Stars,” or do I just wait until those “Idiots” Dave Franco and O’Shea Jackson, Jr. show up?

Silly me. While we know Warner Bros. let go of “Coyote vs. Acme” as a write-off, with Ketchup Entertainment stepping in to get it into theaters, that’s a valuable if Looney brand to be leaving to the wolves, dumped on the last weekend of August.

Warners may be bleeding red ink over the title, but generations grew up with these Looneys, in various incarnations. The WB sold the film to modest Ketchup (“Bushwick,” “Memory,” “Ferrari,” “Goodrich,” “The Day the Earth Blew Up: A Looney Tunes Movie”) for $50 million.

The film is on track to clear $14-15 million on its opening weekend, with family audiences tired of “Toy Story 5” and the latest “Minions.” It won’t make back its Ketchup cost in the U.S. alone, but that’s not pocket change.

It was always going to be a hard sell — live action with animation and all, a solid B- list cast of players (Will Forte, John Cena, Luiz Guzman) interacting with tunes. But reviews have been damned enthusiastic.

Who would have bet that these Looneys would best Ridley Scott’s worst movie in ages, “The Dog Stars?” A B+ list cast, with Oscar winner Allison Janney as the lone (loopy) villain, it made little to nothing Thursday (half of what “Acme” did) and did no better Friday. It won’t clear $10, with Deadline,.com calling the code at $8..

That leaves the last of August the way all of August has gone, in the hands of your friendly neighborhood “Spider-Man.” “Brand New Day” will add $19 million to its bottom line, It should clear $900 by Labor Day.

Christopher Nolan’s “The Odyssey” ($14-15, second place, maybe third) will probably fall just short of $600 million by summer’s end, next weekend.

“Coyote vs. Acme” will come in third, even if it clears $14. Well, “probably.” The generation of early 2000s “Looney Toons” fans and “Tiny Toons Adventures” kids are old enough to show up with their children, so I wouldn’t be shocked at any number in the $15 range.

“”Insidious: Out of the Further” is falling off quite a bit to $9.3 and claim fourth.

“The Dog Stars” is looking at $8 and fifth place, although it could rally a bit and claim fifth.

The latest “Paw Patrol” ($4.8) is managing sixth.

The new Saban release “Buddy” — based on the TV show about a unicorn — is on track for $4.5+. million, good enough for seventh. Go figure. Late summer is smaller scale distributor Saban’s best shot at a Top Ten.

The End of Oak Street,”($4.5) will take eighth, “Mutiny ($2.5, ninth),” and the “Tony” Bourdain bio-pic ($2.1), or possibly “Toy Story 5” should finish out the top ten. Unless, of course, the “Idiots” rally.

Check back here as I’ll be updating those numbers as more data comes in Sunday.

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