Movie Nation

This trailer to the Alex Lawther Brit comedy “Old Boys” had me at, “SMILE, Amberson. These are the best days of your life!”

The hazing, the military training, the period (Cassette tapes, the ’80s?), the hapless/awkward way he carries himself, delightful.

Lawther was the young Alan Turing in “The Imitation Game.” Having him play the romantic intermediary for a French teen with a crush on his boorish, handsome and popular classmate just…works.

Hope this Film 4 production gets picked up by a US distributor (IFC, Orchard, Magnolia, are you listening?).

Andy wakes up in his basement, washes his face and when his little girl Sally sees him, enlists her in his conspiracy of silence.

Because Uncle Zeke is in the house, with Andy’s wife (Angela Vint). Andy’s “missing.” Uncle Zeke (Benjamin Walker) is a cop, the sheriff, and he’s on the case. And suspicious.

Something, we don’t know what, went down at “Shimmer Lake.” But as we know Andy’s played by Rainn Wilson, and we see a fellow sheriff’s deputy have a hissy fit, we know this is funny, or supposed to be — a dark comedy.

There’s a dark and sultry femme fatale (Stephanie Sigman). She’s married to a real tough guy (Wyatt Russell).

Rob Corddry and Ron Livingston are FBI agents who join the case and puzzle out what’s going on. “So, they robbed the bank, came back and stole the banker?”

Judge Dawkins “owns First Mackey Bank.” Judge Dawkins (John Michael Higgins) is lying in a pool of it on his kitchen floor.

The Feds think Banker Andy was in on the bank job, Zeke is sure his brother wasn’t in on it. Bad blood between them is…unavoidable.

“No no no, the CAMARO was black and the SUSPECTS are white.”

This grey, atmospheric black comedy, in which “Surprise is for the ill-prepared,” is a rarely funny tale told out of order. It’s a fall film broken into chapters denoting days of the week, beginning with “Friday: Andy Heads for the Lake.” Wednesday comes later. Tuesday, after that. Characters are “introduced” after we’ve seen them die. We think.

That’s a little confusing, as we see people shot and/or dead and then pop up two scenes down the road and wonder where we are on the timeline. Hey, I’ve done this for a living forever. If I’m confused, it’s needlessly confusing. Take that to the First Mackey Bank.

Day-episodes come and go, the femme fatale does what femme fatales do, bodies drop here and there and Heaven Only Knows where all this is heading as layers add upon layers and the incestuous nature of small town business, government and law enforcement congeal around the crime. Nobody smells like roses in this corner of rural America.

“We got a dead body in a county that doesn’t get dead bodies…”

The jokes include a violent toilet accident, the sheriff cussing in front of his cute niece (Isabel Dove) who repeats what she hears for a cheap laugh. A running gag? The deputy sheriff (Adam Pally), the one who throws a tantrum, is constantly having to sit in the caged back seat of the towns lone cruiser. Daffiness intrudes when the Feds show up, and the heist itself has that potential.

But writer-director Oren Uziel does a better job of keeping it (somewhat) interesting than he does at building suspense (deflated by telling the tale out of order), creating urgency or developing a single character we can identify with and/or root for.

Ill-tempered, cursing their kids, prone to violence. Well, not all of them.

The performances range from unconvincing to not-quite-compelling, with Wilson the sole standout.

Uzeil makes the fatal mistake of trying so hard to out-smart the viewer than he forgets to get the basics — tone, an engaging villain (villains), motivations.

All of which adds up to a heist thriller that isn’t thrilling or particularly witty, but on that “Well, we’ve seen everything else” scale, right on the cusp of “Netflixable.”

MPAA Rating: TV-MA, violence

Cast: Rainn Wilson, Benjamin Walker, Stephanie Sigman, John Michael Higgins, Rob Corddry and Ron Livingston

Credits: Written and directed by Oren Uziel. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:27

Oscar Isaac, Melanie Laurent, Peter Straus, Lior Raz, Greta Scacchi and Nick Kroll — Wait, NICK KROLL? — are involved in the hunt or the hiding of infamous Nazi war criminal Adolph Eichmann.

We know how it turned out, we’ve seen other filmed accounts. But Chris Weitz (“About a Boy,” “The Golden Compass,” one of the “Twilight” movies) is betting he has something new to say about it. Sept. 18 we’ll find out. 

Kind of over the whole “Lego Movie” thing after the last couple.

But Elizabeth Banks reciting “A lifetime has passed since the horrific events of ‘Taco Tuesday'” got a giggle out of me.

Chris Pratt, Alison Brie, Will Arnett (of course), Jonah Hill, Tiffany Haddish (who is EVERYwhere) and Channing Tatum do the voices.

Next February, might everything be “awesome” again?

“What Happened to Monday” is yet another dystopian spin on a future we are hellbent on refusing to avoid — overpopulated, polluted, climate-changed.

The formidable Noomi Rapace lends urgency, empathy and physical presence to what devolves from a smart, cerebral premise into something more conventional and illogical.

It’s a single-child-per-family future with the all the desperate, rational and draconian measures “society,” ordained by science, has taken to save the human race.

Yeah, “Handmaid’s Tale” and “Children of Men” and “Soylent Green” figure into this dark day that is frighteningly likely to come, with Glenn Close the overlord overseeing this “Future is Female.” And Yeah, her “Numbers add up” speech makes chilling sense.

Rapace plays seven identical siblings born into this world, hidden from it by assuming a single identity by their cunning and somewhat “selfish” grandfather (Willem Dafoe).

We see flashbacks that listen in on their grandfather’s lessons about “working collectively” and “selecting a career that takes advantage of your joint skills.” We see granddad preparing an apartment, Anne Frank Annex style, to secretly house one daughter plus six extras, drill them on hiding, tamper with government-issued ID bracelets to hide their numbers.

Each sister will leave the house only on the day of the week that corresponds to their name. Seven sisters, one identity — Karen Settman.

“The End of the Day Meeting” is how they debrief each other on what they encountered and how they keep their one story straight. Dinner time? A veritable smorgasbord of personality “types” bickering and belching, whining and biting into “bio-engineered” this or “genuine rat.”

At least Soylent Green isn’t on the menu.

“If we get this promotion, it’s all thanks to Friday.”

“Seven minds are better than one.”

Their adult life is seven widely different women — fearful or rebellious, violent or passive, sexpot or demure professional, tech nerd or violent head-butting brawler — sharing one look, one wardrobe and one career. Their doorman doesn’t realize the drunk he was talking to last night is not the put-together professional woman/adult he is dealing with today.

“They” have a nemesis at work, Jerry (Pål Sverre Hagen). And yeah, he says “I’m ONTO you.”

And one day, on the eve of a “big promotion,” Monday doesn’t come home. Run away, hurt in hospital, kidnapped and murdered? What do they do?

“I have a bad feeling about this” is just the start. Each sister must hunt for the missing one, piece together the clues, while carrying on, that day, as if nothing has happened. Everyone she encounters, from the doorman to the cops at checkpoints to the hated rival at the office could know something about Monday’s disappearance, could even be responsible for it. And now, here “Karen” is again.

Every encounter will be, as they say in the thriller game, “fraught with peril.” The six minds have to work together to save themselves and if possible, save Monday. And they still have to avoid Child Allocation Bureau thugs.

Rapace does a decent job managing every actress’ dream, the ultimate tour de force — seven disguises, seven personalities — even if even she seems embarrassed at having to call eac sister by her day/name every time one of them speaks to another.

The futurescape is the usual white on white interiors, chaotic, crowded exteriors, minivans dressed up in futuretech. Phones now throw their smart screens onto the palm of your hand from an implant on your wrist (No more texting and driving!).

But the plot takes an alarming turn toward the predictable and grows less interesting by the minute — the many MANY minutes — that follow it. In avoiding an “obvious” culprit the story cannot ignore the “obvious” quick end that would logically ensue by following the path taken.

“Mayhem” and slaughter ensue. In a society where “excess” children are put into humane “cryosleep” (so we’re told), it’s still a trigger-happy world.

“What Happened to Monday” becomes less an exercise in personalities, differing strengths dealing with a life-threatening mystery and more blandly conventional — chases, shootouts.

Visceral? Yeah. We’re talking Noomi Rapace, pound for pound the toughest actress in the movies, with or without a dragon tattoo. The violence is graphic and righteous and plentiful.

And as Rapace is involved, nudity and sex as well.

We get a gracenote, here and there, considering how circumscribed this sort of one-day-in-seven-outside life would be, even after 30 years of living. And sisters don’t share “everything.”

It’s rather less than the sum of its parts, but the action beats director Tommy Wirkola & Co. serve up ensure Rapace and “What Happened to Monday” keep punching above their weight.

MPAA Rating: TV-MA, adult themes, implied violence

Cast: Noomi Rapace, Glenn Close, Willem Dafoe, Marwan Kenzari

Credits:Directed by Tommy Wirkola, script by Max Botkin, Kerry Williamson. A Vendage/Netflix release.

Running time: 2:03

Richie Merritt might be the star, but Matthew M. is the patriarch, Bruce Dern and Piper Laurie raised him — not well, apparently — in this tail-end of disco tale of hustling your way to the top of the Drug Trade’s “Next Big Thing” in the Detroit of 1984.

Yeah, you saw Jennifer Jason Leigh in this trailer. You did. Eddie Marsan star in this late-September release, which might’ve bought some bigger “names” to play the black characters. Just an observation. Based on the trailer and the credits. 

It’s a remake of a little-seen “cult” 1977 horror film by Dario Argento and starring Jessica Harper.

Tilda Swinton is the artistic director, Dakota Johnson her star dancer and Chloe Grace Moretz is also in this November Luca Guadagnino film. 

The weirdest horror fans I’ve ever encountered were hardcore Dario Argento buffs. This promises to be smart and maybe a little sick.

Steve McQueen is years-removed from “Twelve Years A Slave,” and his latest has less of a social justice subtext than a gender parity one.

Liam Neeson and Jon Bernthal are among the husbands whose big money heist goes terribly wrong. Viola David, Michelle Rodriguez and Elizabeth Debicki are among the women they leave behind, who decide to follow through and keep the cash from the law and the bad sort who the money belonged to.

And if that’s not star-studded enough for you, try Colin Farrell and Robert Duvall and Jacki Weaver and Carrie Coon and Lukas Haas.

“Widows” opens Nov. 16.

British martial arts star Scott Adkins ventures into “Get Shorty” territory with “The Debt Collector,” a brute brawler of a B-movie, but a bloody-minded bore.

He plays “Frenchy,” owner of a “traditional” martial arts dojo that has him deep in hock. So he begs his partner (Michael Paré) to hook him up with a side hustle the partner squeezes in — debt collecting for hire.

Tommy (Vladimir Kulich) is the boss, not a “shylock” but a guy the underworld lenders contract to get their debts collected. Tommy pairs Frenchy up with Sue (Louis Mandylor  of the “Big Fat Greek Wedding” movies), a gruff alcoholic with a vintage Caddy and a grim attitude about the work.

He’s got a lot of rules for the “newbie” that first day. Remember to “think of these Johns as slabs of meat,” he counsels. “A little head butt” gets you in the door quicker than anything else.

He tosses “Frenchy” the keys with a “We drive on the right side of the road here,” and “watch my whitewalls,” and they’re off.

Every delinquent borrower has a gun, or enormous bodyguards. Sue and Frenchy punch their way through the seedy side of suburban LA, delivering bloody warnings, collecting cash and meting out “punishment” according to the numerical “level” Tommy has assigned each case — a slap around here, a kneecapping there.

It’s amoral work which has driven Sue to drink, but Frenchy supposedly still has some moral compass.

“Moral compass in this job is like a pinless hand grenade,” Sue growls. No, that makes no sense.

The banter is offhanded at times, groaning “So what’s YOUR story?” personal history at others. One power broker explains is unwillingness to repay his loan with “I’m parsimonious.”

He hears an English accent, he figures the guy’s educated. No, he’s ex-military, comfortable with making his living with violence. Sue? He used to do stunts and fights in movies and he’s constantly cracking “You know how things are in B-movies.”

We’re learning.

Adkins was in “Doctor Strange” and “The Expendables 2,” played bad guys or fighters in a Bourne picture here, an X-Men there. Mostly, he’s been adrift in a sea of Bs like this. Still, he’s got to know a thing or two about how important fight choreography is to a two-fisted action film.

Here, we see the choreography. We can count the swings and misses that lead to this pre-arranged takedown, that punch through a cardboard wall. That’s a no-no.

A strip club that looks like a rented storage unit with decorations from the local dollar store and strippers who look more like the real thing than the models who want to be actresses who adorn such scenes in pricier genre pictures also give away the game.

But stuntman turned director Jesse V. Johnson has notions he’s making art here. He intersperses random shots of cattle being raised, then shipped to the slaughterhouse.

“Slabs of meat” one and all.

The women in “Debt Collector” are here to be slapped around or treacherously drive the action as the duo makes its way to one subject whom a particularly villainous client (played by Candy Man Tony Todd) has marked for death.

It’s slow-moving and generally unpleasant, unless you want to see the bare bones of fight choreography exposed on screen, “one two three DUCK, one two KICK,” something much more commonplace in the action cinema’s past.

Adkins as a movie star? He’s interesting enough, but generic save for the accent. Mandylor has more presence and makes more out of a chewy supporting role.

Because like every movie martial arts star before him, Adkins is a bit too happy to dial back the hard work of fistfight scenes by picking up a gun. Usually, that’s a sign you’re Chuck Norris/Jean Claude Van Damme  — over-the-hill.

MPAA Rating: unrated, with explicit violence, sex, profanity

Cast: Scott Adkins, Louis Mandylor, Michael Paré, Vladimir Kulich, Tony Todd

Credits:Directed by Jesse V. Johnson, script by Stu Small and Jesse V. Johnson. An Archstone release.

Running time: 1:35