Jay-Z and Paramount put together this limited docu-series, about the South Florida teen whose family visit to Sanford, FL ended in tragedy and infamy. A 2012 case and it still resonates. July 30 on BET (per Gizmodo media) and Paramount Network. Looks in depth, as it should be. Searing, an examination of the endless American race schism.
(A review of episode one of the series is here)
He finds her in the tub, waiting to die. She doesn’t.
“Why do you like me?” Daisy (Jordan Hinson, who scripted the film) asks.
“Because you’re young and rich and beautiful and you haven’t called the cops” is really the only answer Harry (Milo Gibson, Son of Mel) doesn’t reply. But should have.
Directed by “Twilight” actor turned director Peter Facinelli, “Breaking & Exiting” opens Aug 17. Limited release.
This small-distributor horror film/thriller was picked up at Sundance and earns a limited release Aug. 10.
Kind of “It” without the supernatural element, without every adult clueless to the threat.
“All serial killers live next door to somebody.”
A government bent on keeping the existence of and possible threats posed by “UFOs,” and the film presence of sci-fi fave Gillian Anderson made me wonder if this new movie was inspired by the 1970s British TV series about a secret planetary defense force fighting aliens right under the public’s noses.
It was another Gerry Anderson sci-fi project, lots of models.
I don’t see any evidence of that connection in Ryan Eslinger’s film.
A couple of years back, I reviewed an Idris Elba thriller, a high-toned B-movie called “The Take.”
One thing that surprised me was him singing the song that runs under the closing credits. Is there nothing Idris can’t do? I marveled over that.
And here it is, years later, and every day’s web traffic report for Movie Nation shows me all these people, finding that review because people watching “The Take” are wondering, “Is that Idris crooning over the credits?”
Yes, it is. He sings.
There are also plenty of examples of chat show hosts getting him to “Give us a song.” And he fancies himself somebody who could draw a paying audience doing it. More proof? This music video.
Every zombie fan has a secret plan for surviving Apocalypse Undead. We’ve all seen “World War Z,” maybe taken mental notes during “Zombieland.”
Do you stockpile food, water and arms and head for the hills? Signal for fellow survivors so that you can band together? Steel yourself against the day a loved one/fellow survivor is bitten and must be dispatched, and there’s nobody to do it but you?
This is part of the appeal of the genre, a logical, intellectual exercise exploring what you might do on that day (fast approaching) when logic and intellect don’t apply or may not be enough to save you.
“The Night Eats the World” is a French zombie parable about a sensitive musician, Sam (Anders Danielsen Lie) who tries a more passive approach. He’ll hole up in his Paris apartment, carefully poll the neighbors to see who hasn’t survived, fill his larder and seal off the building and his floor in it.
He has a gun, but no intention of using it. He surveys the streets from his balcony, but has little intention of venturing out onto them. Can you wait them out? Surely the walking dead run out of brains to dine on and starve, die of thirst or migrate in search of fresh meat. At some point, it’s got to happen, right?
Wasn’t there a “Zombieland” rule about “Forget logic, these are zombies,” or some such? No man is an island, even on Ile Saint Louis in the middle of a zombie takeover.
Dominique Rocher, making his feature film-directing debut, adapted a Pit Agarmen novel with the simplest of “28 Days Later” set-ups. Sam goes to his old apartment where his ex (Sigrid Bouaziz) is throwing a swinging party with the French dude she ditched him for. All he cares about are his “tapes,” his music.
He works through the crowd, locks himself in the office where he kept the tapes and passes out, drunk. His priority was his music.
He awakens in the aftermath of wholesale slaughter. The ex is among the undead. He’s got to make his way to his new place, implement some sort of strategy for survival and ride this debacle out.
He’s got his tunes, his drum kit and batteries for his playback and recording gear. He can make percussive music with every implement in the house, strictly for his own amusement.
Three telling actions give away his state of mind. The first thing he does on getting ome is hand-scrub his floors. The second? Carry out his door-to-door (sometimes chopping through the floor) survey. He sees suicides, and he deals with every body — first searching it for a phone. He hears final, tearful voice mails, a veritable 9/11 cell-phone account of the dead’s final moments.
And he would rather leave the mute, manic zombie neighbor (Denis Lavant) locked in the old fashioned grill-door elevator than kill him.
This is a parable about not really getting involved. Sam doesn’t talk to himself (What American film school screenwriter could have resisted this crutch?), doesn’t ponder “a cure” and doesn’t seek out fellow survivors. Agoraphobia sets in, pretty much.
Will his music — the drums draw legions of sprinting zombies his way — his solitude and survivalist paranoia be enough? Is that really living?
While the setting is striking, a Paris “28 Days Later/Rammbock/I Am Legend” dark and silent after the end of civilization, genre fans may find this passive narrative slow and largely devoid of action, despite the odd burst of menace. Because it is. Slow.
And “slow” and “quiet” are not the equivalent of “dark” and “deep,” though “Eats the World” does leave one with a little to, um, chew on.
There is almost no pathos here, nothing that touches us with the heartbreaking dilemma of loss or the “need” to shoot an infected loved-one. Our “hero” never brings that to his performance, and the script is largely heartless as well. Go to Schwarzenegger’s “Maggie” for that.
There’s not a humorous moment in it, perhaps because the metaphoric dissolution of society seems more serious, a “Zombieland” that’s closer than ever.
There’s just Sam, despairing that “Dead is the new norm now” to the undead doctor/neighbor in the elevator. “I’m the one who’s not normal.” The only decision left is whether to conform to the norm, or not.
MPAA Rating: TV-14, bloody horror violence, shootings
Cast: Anders Danielsen Lie, Golshifteh Farahani, Denis Lavant
Credits:Directed by Dominique Rocher , script by Jérémie Guez , Guillaume LeMans, Dominique Rocher, based on Pit Agarmen. A Blue Fox release.
Running Time: 1:29
In “The First Purge,” the Apocalypse is now.
The most politically potent sci-fi/horror film series since the early years of George A. Romero gets a bloody, visceral and yes, emotional prequel with “The First Purge,” the movie that tells how we got from “here” to “there.”
Turns out, it’s a damned short trip.
Yeah, they’re all B-movies. But when the satire is this overt, when “p—-y grabbing” villains do the dirty work of an NRA-backed, Russian colluding political party that decides to set up “the experiment,” a single night of rage-venting about the “death of the American dream,” when the victims are generally black and brown and don’t seem as “random” as was promised, you’re not just looking at a kill-or-be-killed splatter pic. You’re getting a hard-nosed Civics lesson about America as it is right now.
This is about how the New Founding Fathers Party seized power and used a scientist’s (Marisa Tomei) theories about human venting of rage to stage a test of their “one night of lawlessness, get it out of your system” purges. It will be on Staten Island. You can leave, but if you’re poor, you’re stuck. You’re even given financial incentive to “participate,” violent people given camera-contact lenses and tracking devices so the experiment can be “monitored.”
Gang members who’d like to be gang-leaders, off-the-hook psychotics like the deranged junkie Skeletor (Rotimi Paul, a scream) and an aspiring gang banger wanting revenge on Skeletor (Joivan Wade) all take to the streets when the sirens sound.
“I got my list,” one and all declare.
But there’s pushback from the sane, the righteous, be they preachers or protesters like Nya (Lex Scott Davis), who happens to be Isaiah’s sister. They’ve organized sanctuary buildings like churches, and defiant “We’re not falling for this” street parties.
So Big Brother has to put his Russian-flavored finger on the scales. Marauding mobs of AK-47 armed KKK, helmeted “Blue Lives Matter” cops and convoys of borscht-eating mercenaries amp up the mayhem.
And caught in the literal middle of all this is Dmitri, the dapper mobster played by Y’lan Noel of TV’s “The Hustle.” He’s worried about his drug business, fretting that others will use the night as cover for a power play, not trusting this government to play fair. Normal people, he knows, aren’t murderous. “Killing comes from our damaged hearts.”
When it all goes down, which way will Dmitri lean?
If you’re going to remake “Superfly,” you could do a lot worse than the charismatic Noel, of TV’s “The Hustle” and “Insecure.” But he still got to make his Blaxsploitation film, a gangster rolling through chaos in a Mercedes SUV with lieutenants all around him, riding to the rescue like an underworld cavalry.
This “Purge” cuts to the chase, starkly highlighting the racial divisions exploited by the NRA (on billboards) and others to distract the masses from seeking out the real villains.
The script leans too heavily on comic archetypes (mouthy neighbor) and “neighborhood” stereotypes, the saintly Latina mom and her innocent daughter, the sage “Three Wise Men” (Steve Harris is their leader) of the block.
But producer (“Fruitvale Station”) turned director Gerard McMurray keeps the action horrific in between the pause-for-conversation interludes, and builds to a furious climax. Yeah, it fits in just before the other “Purge” movies are set.
The result is exploitation with an edge, not on a par with “Get Out,” but alarming and perfectly recognizable down to the media coverage. Van Jones is here. Where are the expected Purge cheerleaders like Hannity and Alex Jones?
“Infowars” bloviator Jones must have seen the “Purge” TV commercials and been inspired to say “The Second Civil War” starts July 4. He’s confused, as usual. No, a movie opens, one that turns the gun back on him and those like him, the dividers, those who attack minorities, the Constitution and the rule of law.
Four “Purge” movies in five years, you’d think the message would have sunk in.
MPAA Rating: R for strong disturbing violence throughout, pervasive language, some sexuality and drug use
Cast: Y’an Noel, Lex Scott Davis, Jovian Wade, Marisa Tomei, Patch Darragh
Credits:Directed by Gerard McMurray, script by James DeMonaco. A Blumouse/Universal release.
Running time: 1:37
Will is the embodiment of a doting dad, and a “good provider” boiled down to that phrase’s essential meaning.
He spends all day, every day with daughter Tom. He keeps her clothed, healthy, warm and fed, home schools her and augments that education with every step they take through the woods of Oregon. Eat these greens, harvest those mushrooms.
You don’t need a stove or even a fire. Here’s how you use a solar oven. This is how you prep fire-starter for use with a flint and a knife.
And Tom (Thomasin McKenzie)? She’s a pale, fresh-faced teen, curious, questioning, smart and none the worse for wear. You could never tell she’s homeless, that they make their lives on national park land.
Will (Ben Foster) is quiet but antic, gets a bit too worked-up over starting a fire the most primitive way available and flinches at helicopters. He only succumbs to civilization when he needs his VA check and prescriptions. Other encounters? To be avoided.
“DRILL,” he whispers, with all the urgency he can muster. Cover your tracks, “Do it well,” he says. “Leave no trace.”
“Leave No Trace” is another girl-comes-of-age-under-extreme-duress drama from director Debra Granik, another “Winter’s Bone” set in an unconventional family tested in an alien world. “Trace,” based on Peter Rock’s novel “My Abandonment,” lacks the existential threat, the violence and Meth Belt desperation of “Winter’s Bone,” but you can see in Granik an “artist pounding the same nail over and over again,” here.
Young female protagonist, wise in unconventional ways, tougher than she looks, out to save her daddy, if he can be saved.
The always-present threat is “discovery.” The implied threat beyond that is “They’ll separate us.” But while we may question the efficacy of Will’s drills and just what value his teachings have for a girl in our real world, we know Tom wasn’t raised to be passive and unquestioning.
That’s obvious the moment they’re caught by cops with a tracking dog. “Cooperate,” Dad says. “We haven’t done anything wrong.”
“We need to find out what’s going on here,” a female officer tells a perplexed Tom.
“You needed a dog to figure that out?”
“The System” takes them in, quizzes each about possible criminal leanings, abuse, general cognizance and mental health queries. But a kindly social worker (Dana Millican) suggests sympathy for their situation, and a firm hand.
“We didn’t need to be rescued” cuts no ice with her.
But all this “help” — temporary housing, monitoring, temporary work, school, clothes, a bike, a phone — makes Will seethe, and hope his daughter sees why.
“You can still think your own thoughts.”
This world, hemmed in by a roof over your head, trapped in a job (Christmas tree farming), “paperwork,” rules, isn’t for him. Tom? Maybe it’s melodramatic, but meeting your first boy (he as a pet bunny), getting your first bike, connecting socially with kids your own age at school or in 4H, being clean and warm and well-fed creates a schism, their first.
“Maybe we should adapt.”
Most summer movies are imposed on us, but a few require us to seek them out and approach them on their own challenging terms.
“Leave No Trace” has a “Sullivan’s Travels” righteousness to the world it presents. Kindness and generosity greets them at every turn. Their fellow homeless vets leave them be and buy Will’s drugs, social workers, a farmer, a truck driver, VA employees and the working poor (the great Dale Dickey of “Winter’s Bone”) all sympathize with their plight, ask few questions and respect “the way you guys are living” — off the grid.
Foster’s sensitive side has turned up in a few films, “The Messenger” for instance. But the “Hell or High Water” dangerous, man-of-violence side as dominated his resume and creates baggage for this role that helps the film. Will seems broken, passive resistance is all he has left. But we wonder.
McKenzie, a New Zealand actress who cut started making her mark on the last “Hobbit” movie, has a potential break-out role here, and it’s only the memory of “Winter’s Bone” that puts a damper on that. She brings wonder to new experiences — the woods, peers, bunnies, bee-keeping. But while we could believe rawboned Jennifer Lawrence as a tough, resilient and desperate Ozarks teen, McKenzie doesn’t look like she’s seen the sun, much less roughed it out of range of a hair dryer. She evokes the intelligence and sad understanding of Tom’s broadening horizons, plays the “fish out of water” well, but she gives us doubt and lets us see the actress behind the performance, the young woman who doesn’t fit in this milieu.
Still, “Trace” works because even if this film avoids the classic “disturbed vet” story cliches, that this situation is untenable, dangerous and limiting.
The marvel of “Leave No Trace” is that we continue watching, utterly absorbed, to see if Tom will figure that out as well.
MPAA Rating: PG for thematic material throughout
Cast: Thomasin McKenzie, Ben Foster, Dana Millican, Dale Dickey, Jeff Kober
Credits: Directed by Debra Granick, script by Anne Rosellini and Debra Granick, based on the novel “My Abandonment” by Peter Rock. A Bleecker St. release.
Running time: 1:49
Vaughn is about to become a father. Marcus, his pal, figures he knows just the thing for “your last free weekend.”
The lads leave the city for a hunting trip in the Scottish highlands and Marcus loads his 90s Jeep Cherokee for action.
“Reckon you can take down a deer? The trick is, to put a check on your emotions and let instinct kick in.”
Vaughn (Jack Lowden of “Dunkirk”) isn’t really into it, but he goes along for “stalking,” as the locals call it. Marcus (Martin McCann of “Lost in London”) is there to ensure they have a good time in Culcurran. Which of course means a near bar-fight over local lasses.
“It’s your funeral” should scare them off. Not Marcus. Nothing like heading into the woods hungover, having made enemies of armed, woods-wise locals.
“Calibre” is one of those “Deliverance/Straw Dogs” thrillers about men softened by civilization, out to prove themselves in the wild and tested in ways they never imagined.
Because Vaughn isn’t a good shot. And somebody gets killed.
Sentient, sensitive people go to pieces when their actions, even accidental, take a life. In this story, accidents lead to escalations and the hopeless effort to hide the crime.
“Run. RUN,” for starters.
Is Marcus the one thinking clearly, or is Vaughn? Can they save each other? Should they?
“The alternatives are unthinkable.”
People who don’t talk, don’t get caught — or so the old saying goes. But carrying on as if nothing’s happened is going to be tricky. Not in villages where everybody knows everybody else’s business, outsiders’ goings and comings, not when the locals love talking about hunting and bloody rare venison is the diner’s choice.
Logan and Angus (Tony Curran, George Anton) are just trying to be friendly, just wanting to share stalking stories, hold forth about the sorry state of the local economy. But the city boys have bodies to bury. And one of them has neither the stomach nor the nerve for it.
“This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Calibre” follows the well-worn path of such tales, the decisive man more in touch with his primitive side, the smarter, more civilized one caught in this trap with him.
And trap it is, because getting out of this hole is going to be as unhurried and tricky as the locals can make it. The suspense comes with every encounter with a villager, friendly or unfriendly. Do these two soft city boys have the nerve for this? Are they cagey enough? What will trip them up?
Every question is double-edged, every suspicion underlined with menace.
Matt Palmer’s film is an engrossing but unsurprising swirl of self-preservation instincts, grief, panic and terror. It achieves pulse-pounding only once, and rarely strays from the predictable path set for it. Palmer reaches for that twist from the conventional way these narratives are handled, but gives away his sympathies too quickly, shows his hand too openly.
Style points for the striking scenery and setting. Demerits for delivering a grim anti-climax where the dramatic climax is called for.
MPAA Rating: TV-MA, violence, profanity
Cast: Jack Lowden, Martin McCann, Kate Bracken, Tony Curran
Credits: Written and directed by Matt Palmer. A Netflix release.
Running time: 1:41
Josh Brolin’s “The Great White Hunter” aka a drawling good ol’boy with a web series detailing his adventures, Danny McBride’s his trusty cameraman out with him on a stalk that’ll be a boy-bonding/”make a man out of him” weekend for hunter Buck’s son (Montana Jordan).
“Ah’ve always considered mah-self more of a MAR-riot guy.”
Looks over-the-top, possibly hilarious. It pops up on Netflix July 6.
Movie Nation 