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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Movie Review: “Tony” Bourdain Comes of Age in a Kitchen Bildunsroman

Anybody who’s ever done restaurant work knows that you grow up fast in a kitchen.

The speed and urgency, the pressure cooker of it all — people thrown together in hot, confined spaces, trying to work in concert with each other without injuring themselves or each other or poisoning the customers, it’s a bubble life out of time, where the hundred deadlines a day can dictate your life’s path — who you sleep with and what pharmaceutical compromises you make just to make it from prep to closing time.

Anthony Bourdain knew this world better than most. He lived in it and then wrote about it, first with his blockbuster tell-all “Kitchen Confidential,” and then in the decades of TV food and travel shows that spun out of that culinary success.

He stressed respect for those “honored” to do this work — feeding the public — all through his writing and public pronouncements. And despite his carefully cultivated hipster/traveller/chef image, he’d let slip the cost of this grueling lifestyle while playing up the commitment it takes to thrive in it.

“Tony” is a thoroughly entertaining biography of the bookish dishwasher who became a chef, a man and a man of letters. Everything fans came to love about him is here — dashing Leonard Cohen look-alike, a world-weary traveller, sucking down another smoke, voice-over narrating with wit and an ear for old film noir style in the gravelly voice and performative cool of hosting exotic travel programs.

Matt Johnson, who made the equally entertaining and just as conventional “Blackberry” movie, takes us back to the mid ’70s, when a mop-topped, entitled poseur who loved calling himself a “writer” first struck a pose and came of age. This college kid talked the talk and lied the lies — all great writers are liars and “unreliable narrators” — and dropped literary names and the German word “bildungsroman” to describe what he planned to write and what he — by accident — actually wrote.

He was “coming of age” in his teens. But he really grew up when he had the life experience to “write what you know.” And what he knew was cooking and kitchens and Michelin stars and great food the world over.

We meet the upper middle class Jersey kid with Bruce Lee and New York Dolls posters in his room — and a very big globe at the foot of his bed — just as he’s throwing “I’m a writer, now” around and telling one and all he’s got this writing fellowship at Vassar in the bag.

The globe? That helps him “imagine” fantastical places “I’ll probably never” visit.

Dominic Sessa of “The Holdovers” and “Now You See Me, Now You Don’t” gets the awkwardness that 19 year old Tony Bourdain — “Only my mother calls me ‘Anthony.'” — figures his new status allows him to shake. That cute upperclasswoman (Emilia Jones) he had a crush on in high school? He comes right up to her in an approach both brazen and delusional.

He’s got nunchucks shoved down his pants, for Pete’s sake.

But maybe he’ll make some headway with her in the fall, at Vassar. Because he’s a writer destined for great things. And when he doesn’t get that fellowship? He lies to his family (Dagmara Dominczykm plays his bookish, hard-to-please mother and Leo Woodall of “Mad Men” is his dad). And he sets out to Provincetown on Cape Cod, because that’s where the fair Nancy will be spending her summer.

Seeing her in the arms of a cook at the pizza joint that’s her summer job sends him on a loutish, beer-fueled bender. And that’s how he ends up under the care of this demanding Portugeuse chef at The Flagship seafood house.

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Movie Review: A Buddy Comedy with “Idiots”

“Idiots” is a buddy comedy with raunchy promise, funny players and no pace. I mean NONE.

If this was “Midnight Run,” which it resembles, it’d be “Midnight Stroll.” If it was “The Last Detail,” which also figures in its plotting, they’d have to title it “The Next to Last Detail, The Last Detail, And Then Some.”

Pairing up Dave Franco and O’Shea Jackson, Jr. — Ice Cube’s kid — as two losers who take on transporting a sociopathic, substance abusing rich kid to “rehab” pays some dividends, even if Jackson could use some “testy/funny straight man” lessons from his dad, a buddy picture veteran.

But scenes, even the ones with comic shock value, drift on past their payoff. And some don’t pay off at all. Many a comedy has gotten by on “hit and miss,” but this one whiffs a few too many times to delight.

Davis (Jackson) is a church going goof given to weeping. That happens when his pastor calls him to account for driving a church youth group to a porn film. It happens when that pastor (Killer Mike) fires him. Son, what did you think “NR, not rated” meant?

Mark (Franco, James Franco’s goofier brother) got canned from a call center job for giggling, drinking, smoking and goofing-off watching painful prank videos on his phone when he was supposed to be selling senior citizens things they don’t need.

Shady boss of many hustles Mrs. Dorindo (Grace Junot) hires Mark because he has a car and Davis has lost access to the church van he was going to use to haul often unwilling patients whom family members or guardians are committing to rehab.

Sure, the car’s an aged Buick Century with almost as much Bondo as paint showing. But it’ll get them there. With luck.

Sure, Mark spent the afternoon he got fired on a drug buying/abusing bender himself. But this is just “a frightened and confused child,” Davis wants to believe they’re transporting. What could go wrong?

Mason Thames of the “Black Phone” thrillers is well-cast as Sheridan — “Sherry” to his online fans — an heir with an air of sullen entitlement and a teen so out of control his parents have their attorney (Lee Eddy) commit him rather than evict him from their mansion themselves.

Sheridan’s an influencer in all the worst ways — social media-shared binges, stunts that hurt others. And being moptopped, rich, thin and pale white, he’s catnip to the teen and tween girls who follow him online.

He’s also a master manipulator, getting in his drivers’ heads, “dosing” one who isn’t already down to dose, foiling their plans to drive him across Virginia to a place where he can “get some help.”

Kiernan Shipka plays an Eastern European “private dancer” lured to a motel they check into. She’ll need her wizened granny’s (Lynn Wanlass) intervention to get out of this. Najah Bradley and Nicholas Braun are wacky psychopaths led by mastermind Koko (Peter Dinklage) into “intervening” in Sherry’s delivery to rehab.

There ae a lot of promising or potentially promising characters and situations thrown in this comic quest’s path. But the narrative has a stumbling, lurching quality that interrupts the flow — the build-up towards big laughs — even if pays off in keeping the viewer wrong-footed about where things might go next.

Franco’s a guaranteed laugh, and Dinklage shows up late and pretty much steals the movie. Others in the cast struggle with accents, reactions, pratfalls and punchlines that are directed and edited into sequences and gags that never quite get there.

Writer’director Blair, who did the recent “Toxic Avenger” reboot, never settles on a tone or how he feels about his “villain.” Unsavory characters float around the fringe of the story, are set up to join the pursuit of the punk and his “captors,” but are then forgotten.

And reminding us this “frightened confused child” has real victims and not knowing what to do with them once you’ve introduced them is a real buzzkill.

Rating: R, bloody violence, drug abuse, scatological humor, “sexual content” and profanity

Cast: Dave Franco, O’Shea Jackson, Jr., Mason Thames, Grace Junot, Kiernan Shipka, Najah Bradley, Melanie Loren and Peter Dinklage.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Macon Blair. An IFC release.

Running time: 1:38

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Movie Review: Ridley’s Believe in it, or Don’t — “The Dog Stars”

“The Dog Stars” is the sort of movie that late August is infamous for — a dog that the studio couldn’t figure out how to fix or market into a success, so they dumped it on Labor Day Weekend.

It’s the sort of science fiction that fumbles around for something to say, whose filmmakers throw up their hands long before the many climaxes followed by a deflatingly anticlimactic ending.

It’s the sort of night out at the cinema that one feels confident in recommending you take your bathroom break the moment Oscar winner Allison Janney shows up.

And it’s the sort of career hiccup that makes you rush to the Internet Movie Database to be sure this won’t turn out to be sci-fi icon Ridley Scott’s last film. The “Blade Runner/Alien/The Martian” director’s got half a dozen projects in development. Here’s hoping he gets one of those up and underway, and that he’s minding his health.

This post-apocalyptic tale is about the miserable, generally hopeless lives of those who survived the next pandemic — probably one the last and least of the Kennedys will preside over. That’s pretty much as topical as this adaptation of a Peter Heller novel gets.

We’re treated to murderous survivors of every stripe, people who kill rather than cooperate their way through The World’s End, which happened sometime before 2035. None of them are truly “motivated” murderers, except in a sort of blanket condemnation of survivalists way. The ones they call “Reapers” are straight out of “Omega Man” — rampaging, cultish killers who have no point of view, motivation or leader.

Josh Brolin is Bangley, a prepper who has an arsenal, some military hardware and a whole derelict airfield in Erie, Colorado as a kill zone when intruders come poking around.

But his “parter” is Hig (Jacob Elordi), a handyman who keeps an ancient Cessna in working order for runs to “the city” (Denver) for the last supplies nobody else already scavenged. Hig is just as armed. But Hig has a dog, the surest sign of humanity.

Hig touches down on city streets and visits his old house, the one where he lost his pregnant bride to “the virus.” If it weren’t very his very vocal Belgian Malanois, Jasper, who would be a jabbermouth if he spoke English, Hig wouldn’t have the will to go on, or to restart his airplane engine on all those occasions where he tempts fate and turns it off, just to see if he could actually go through with it.

He can’t make himself do “that,” or commit to moving in with the large Menonite family of orphans and adults he drops in on and helps out. Benedict Wong plays their farming patriarch.

Events conspire to send Hig packing, off in search of a phantom radio signal from Grand Junction, and that throws him in the path of a rancher (Guy Pearce) and his med student daughter (Margaret Qualley).

Things unfold in that corner of the plot exactly as you’d expect them to.

Don’t ask what Janney plays. Don’t ask about the size of the role of the most delightful character, Jasper.

And don’t question the “logic” of much of anything in a movie with the odd punchy line — “You’are dead as the world. You just don’t know it, yet!” “Shoot first and inquire afterwards!” — and veiled references to this middle class past or even the solitary, survivalist present as “the American Dream” and to the science denying idiots at the highest levels who did us all in.

“All it takes is one cough…We lost two kids last week. We think it was measles, this time.”

Having a first rate cast and a lifetime of experience making epics of every size and scope didn’t keep Scott giving this a go right up to the point where he threw his hands up at ever having a script worth all this time and money.

Not every movie is destined to work, and not all will be hits. Disney/20th Century gave up on “The Dog Stars,” which is how it got dumped on one of the worst weekends for movies of the year. But they were within their rights. Scott damned sure gave up on it before them.

Rating: R, violence, smoking, profanity

Cast: Jacob Elordi, Margaret Qualley, Josh Brolin, Allison Janney, Benedict Wong and Guy Pearce

Credits: Directed by Ridley Scott, scripted by Mark L. Smith and Christopher Wilkinson, based on a novel by Peter Heller. A 20th Century release.

Running time: 1:58

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Classic Film Review: A Catfight for the (Middle) Ages — “The Lion in Winter” (1968)

It was a gilded age for high-minded British cinema, of larger than life actors taking on epics as heroes and antiheroes — a life of “Lawrence of Arabia,” “Becket,” “Cromwell,” a dash or two of Shakespeare, and “A Man for All Seasons.”

But nothing in the costumed period pieces of the ’60s could match that Plantagent lions rampant catfight that was “The Lion in Winter.” As bawdy and funny as Burton and Taylor could be in their “Taming of the Shrew,” nothing of the age compares to James Goldman’s adaptation of his play about tyrannical Henry II, his scheming estranged wife Eleanor of Aquitaine and backstabbing sons John, Geoffrey and the brawling redheaded fury they’d come to call “Richard the Lionheart.”

“A knife! He’s got a knife!”

“Of course he has a knife! He always has a knife! We all have knives! It’s 1183 and we’re barbarians!

Giving that acrid, sneering bit of self-awareness at how all this will look to history to the formidable Katherine Hepburn hardly seems fare. Peter O’Toole at his grandest gets one and all in the holiday spirit as King Henry II. It’s a story set during the holidays in the French Castle Chinon after all.

 “Well, what shall we HANG? The holly, or each other?

And veteran character player John Castle may not be remembered for much, but giving “extra son” Geoffrey these lines is its own bit of immortality.

” I know. You know I know. I know you know I know. We know Henry knows, and Henry knows we know it. We’re a knowledgeable family.”

I’ve seen Goldman’s play on the stage and this film in cinema society and film festival showings. It plays. It is still laugh-out-loud funny, cutting and mean and boisterous with a parade of despicable characters and a few performances that go right to the edge of “over the top.”

O’Toole is ageing Henry II, who cannot rest on his laurels — or the large pieces of France, along with England and half of Ireland — which he has taken and rules. He has locked-up his rich and powerful wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine (Hepburn), former Queen of France and a bloody nuisance when it comes to Henry’s plan of succession.

He treats his youngest, John (Nigel Terry) as his “favorite,” but the lad is 16, not so much stupid as naive and headstrong. All the grooming Henry makes time for, and the lad is still unpolished, unimposing and unmannered. Having lost his oldest son, Henry wants to make the youngest John his heir and marry him off to the young French king’s (Timothy Dalton) sister, Alais (Jane Merrow), because Henry craves her county, Vexin, close enough to Paris for Henry to maintain a threatening presence.

As she shares Henry’s bed (talk about “grooming”) we figure the old dog may not just sire his heir, but have ideas of fathering his heir’s heir.

Son Richard (Anthony Hopkins) won’t have it, as he’s next in line, the most martial and imposing of the sons. He was his mother’s favorite. Now, he’s not sure he wants to scheme with her to ensure his ascent to the throne.

“You love nothing. You’re incomplete. The human parts of you are missing. You’re as dead as you are deadly.”

And then there’s Geoffrey, whom we meet as he’s directing other men in a beachside ambush he’s arranged. He’s cunning, but more of a backstabber than a front stabber. He knows he’s an “extra prince.” He has to teach his kid brother “what happens to ‘extra princes.'” What was true later with Richard III is true in 1183, too.

Henry brings all these relations, including imprisoned Eleanor and the teen King Philip of France (Dalton) to Chinon, to hash it all out — who gets what crown, who will marry whom, what Eleanor will have to agree to and what the Pope in Rome or a handy archbishop at hand can facilitate.

Editor turned director Anthony Harvey’s film — “Dutchman” and “They Might be Giants” were his — never quite sheds the staginess of the material, with its many characters entering a room, one at a time, as earlier guests hide in the curtains to overhear the scheming and insults of their rivals.

There’s lovely footage of Eleanor’s procession by barge up the river to the castle, which is as grand, austere and imposing as the players who inhabit it (Abbaye de Montmajour, Arles, Bouches-du-Rhône was the main filming location).

O’Toole is at his most wild-eyed as he shows off his swordfighting skill. He was too young to play a weary 50 year-old Henry II, but his performance has aged beautifully and he more than holds his own with Hepburn, in her most formidable role.

Hopkins gives us hints of a great screen actor in the making. Dalton brings dash and sexual ambiguity to Philip. He’d go on to play the least successful James Bond of them all. And Terry would age into a fine King Arthur for John Boorman’s “Excalibur” a decade later.

The history is more playwright’s fantasy than reality. This “Lost Weekend” never really happened. But the machinations, suggestions of schemes and same sex attraction, the “pawns” moved around by kings, would-be kings and a queen trying to pull a few last strings lines up with history.

Nigel Stock plays the real-life witness to this history, and generations and kings beyond, William Marshal. With another ’60s classic film of Henry II’s relationship with Thomas a’Becket (O’Toole was Henry II there, as well), Marshal, “The Greatest Knight” of all, might be the one character from that period piece-loving era that filmmakers missed the boat on commiting to film.

“The Lion in Winter” may be “a Christmas movie” in the same sense that “Die Hard” is. But this is a classic best consumed in cold weather with a bottle of the “brandy wine” that all involved seemed to crave, by fireside as a means of fortifying themselves for the slings and arrows to come. And the insults.

They all suffer their put downs. But Prince John, remembered in myth as the sniveling pretender who radicalized Robin Hood, is only capable of a “You stinker” and “You turd” or two. Which is why earns the coldest burn of all.

“If you’re a prince, there’s hope for every ape in Africa.”

Rating: PG, profanity, violence

Cast: Peter O’Toole, Katharine Hepburn, Anthony Hopkins, Timothy Dalton, Jane Merrow, Nigel Terry, Nigel Stock and John Castle.

Credits: Directed by Anthony Harvey, scripted by James Goldman, based on his play. An Avco Embassy release streaming on Tubi, other platforms.

Running time: 2:14

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