Movie Nation

You knew that somebody was going to take the piss out of the pretentious king of movie mashups, Quentin Tarantino.

And you knew that it would never be Adam Sandler & Co. who managed that.

“The Ridiculous 6,” which major studios passed on and Netflix got made, is a parody of Tarantino’s talky/violent/n-word riddled “event” Western, “The Hateful Eight.”

Tarantino releases his movie in “70 mm” (in select cinemas). “Ridiculous 6” is in “4K.” Tarantino pushes a slight story into three hours, with overture and intermission. Team Sandler reaches for the two hour mark.

Tarantino serves of Kurt Russell, Samuel L. Jackson, Tim Roth, Michael Madsen — his “regulars.” Sandler brings Rob Schneider back from the Old Jewish Comics Home, and gives more work to David Spade, Vanilla Ice, Jon Lovitz and sports talker Dan Patrick, condemned to be Abe Lincoln in his most disastrous Sandler cameo in one of Sandler’s worst films.

Which is saying something.

The premise here — a movie basically inspired by the trailer to “Hateful Eight” (which opens New Year’s) — is that Sandler is “White Knife,” an orphan raised by Apache.

“I jus’ dress like this so’s I don’t get scalped out there on the prairie,” he drawls. Sort of.

His long-lost Desperado Daddy (Nick Nolte) shows up, offers him the stash from his biggest job, and is promptly nabbed by his old gang (led by Danny Trejo).

White Knife, or “Tommy,” must leave behind his intended, Smokin’ Fox (Julia Jones), find Daddy’s treasure and rescue him. Along the way, he discovers Pappa Was a Rollin’ Stone. Schneider plays a half-Mexican dolt sired by the outlaw, Taylor Lautner an utter dope fathered by him, Terry Crews, Luke Wilson and Jorge Garcia play the the other half-brothers.

Ridiculous.

Unlike Tarantino, whose movie has about a dozen “hateful” characters to be dispatched, Sandler and his crew at least can count. The ridiculous are indeed six in number.

Will Forte and Steve Zahn and Nick Swardson are among the members of a gang of one-eyed outlaws out for the same stash.

Vanilla Ice plays Mark Twain, Lovitz a governor and Blake Shelton is Wyatt Earp in a big poker game. John Turturro is Abner Doubleday, trying to teach the Chinese building the railroad how to play baseball.

The humor comes virtue of donkey diarrhea, bad-pun “Injun” names (“Never Wears Bra”) and elderly Native American actors cracking jokes in the modern vernacular.

“Wow, that was uncool,” the aged chief (Saginaw Grant) complains.

The production values are pretty high. A Western with good locations, horses, a stagecoach and an Indian village isn’t hard to manage.

There’s just nothing to this — nothing funny, at least. It’s hatefully long, has some bizarre violence (Harvey Keitel and Steve Buscemi are involved) and is built around another inept-and-doesn’t-care-that-he-is turn by Sandler.

Sure, he’s always creating work for his cronies. It’s become very apparent, over the years, that his real reason for doing this is that they’re the only ones to reassure him on the set that he’s funny. When he isn’t.

If you’re trying to take the piss out of Tarantino, and somebody needs to, you need to bring more game than this.

MPAA Rating: unrated, with profanity, violence and defecation gags

Cast: Adam Sandler, Rob Schneider, Danny Trejo, Julia Jones, Terry Crews, Taylor Lautner, Luke Wilson,Vanilla Ice, Nick Nolte, Jorge Garcia, Blake Shelton, David Spade, Jon Lovitz, Dan Patrick
Credits: Directed by Frank Coraci, script by Tim Herlihy and Adam Sandler. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:56

“Phoenix” is a dark romantic melodrama about the Holocaust, an intimate study of guilt — survivor’s guilt, and survive-at-all costs guilt.

Nelly (Nina Hoss) survived the death camps — barely. She only returns to Germany after reconstructive surgery to repair the grievous bullet wounds to her face, a wounds the Nazis were sure finished her as they evacuated the camp.

Her friend Lene (Nina Kunzendorf) nurses her through this, gets her back across the border (from Switzerland) and brings her back to post-war Berlin.

Nelly regards her surgery as more “recreation” than “reconstruction.” All she wants is to find her husband, the man she had to leave behind when she was arrested. This is the thought that kept Nelly, a singer, alive when all around her were dying.

She’s not hearing Lene’s blunt warnings about “Johnny.”

“Johnny betrayed you.”

She searches as she heals, but when she stumbles into her piano playing husband, he does not recognize her.

Johnny does odd jobs at the Phoenix club, a sort of Weimar/”Cabaret” throwback that entertains the locals and the American troops who occupy that sector of Berlin. But something about this woman he doesn’t quite recognize clicks. He befriends her and enlists her in a scheme. She will impersonate his late wife, Nelly and he will split her inheritance with “Esther,” as she calls herself. After all, he says (in German, with English subtitles), “There aren’t many Esthers left.”

Co-writer/director Christian Petzold (“Barbara”) manages a subtle tension as his players try to hide a various obvious payoff that this premise promises. Zehrfeld’s Johnny is poker-faced, straining not to give away a flash of regret, remorse or longing as this woman reminds him more and more of a wife he is sure is dead.

Hoss (“A Most Wanted Man”) brings layers of ache to Nelly. As Esther, she questions and probes. She is trying to trip Johnny up, but only half-heartedly. Does she want to know that he betrayed her, can she left him off the hook or is he innocent of what Lene is convinced he did?

What trips this troubling and engrossing picture up are production values. It’s mere months after the war, and the street rubble is ever-so-neat, everybody is in nice clothes, and even the seedy bars and apartments feel production-designed to death. Every vintage car is in mint condition, freshly polished on the rubble-strewn streets, every GI has a German accent, not an American one.

The players and the situation (taken from a Hubert Monteilhet) novel make “Phoenix” an approachable, less-grueling Holocaust story than most. But the unreality of it all undoes some of that and makes this brief, smart and heartfelt story feel like a pulled-punch.

MPAA Rating: PG-13 for some thematic elements and brief suggestive material

Cast:Nina Hoss, Ronald Zehrfeld, Nina Kunzendorf
Credits: Directed by Christian Petzold, script by Christian Fetzold and Harun Faroki, based on the novel by Hubert Monteilhet . A Sundance Selects release.

Running time: 1:38

OK, that’s an exaggeration. Nobody figured a movie about a whale would make a fortune.

But as things stand now, a fictionalized film version of a non-fiction best seller about the true story that inspired “Moby Dick” may take down Katniss Everdeen and her band of YA warriors.

Friday night’s numbers show the Chris Hemsworth/Ron Howard adventure tale “In the Heart of the Sea” edging “Hunger Games PArt XVIII.” Or whatever. “Heart of the Sea” wasn’t helped by mixed reviews.

Neither film figures to pull in more than $12 million this weekend. “Hunger Games” has been out forever, but nothing that’s opened since has dented it too much (“Krampus” “Creed” “Good Dinosaur” all came close).

The other news is that this is the film that finally shoves “The Martian” out of the top ten. $222 million for the Oscar hopeful starring Matt Damon. “Hunger Games” is over $227, FYI.

“Krampus” is still making money, “The Good Dinosaur” sticking around, etc. etc.

“Star Wars” opens next week and it’s adios, “Hunger Games.”

Did they widen the Oscar field, or shrink it? What the Screen Actors Guild taketh away, the Golden Globes returned to “It’s still got a shot at the Oscar.”

Right?

That’s the true purpose of the Golden Globes nominations.

Yesterday, “Hateful Eight” and “Joy” felt like Oscar write-offs. Today, “Hateful” has a Jennifer Jason Leigh nomination (deserving) and one for composer Ennio Morricone (meh) and screenwriter Quentin Tarantino (meh, again), and “Joy” gets more recognition for J-Law. “Creed” lands a sentimental Sly Stallone nomination. An overpraised “Rocky” recycling, I thought.

“Beasts of No Nation” got one nomination. Another over-praised pic, PC and topical and pretty powerful, but never once feels like something made for the big screen.  Best actor-drama nominee Idris Elba? He’s big time. The biggest thing about it.

So “Joy” gets into the mix, as does “The Martian.” Best Motion Picture–Comedy.

Lawrence and Matt Damon got nominations in “comedy” categories.

“Steve Jobs” landed two acting nominations, and a screenplay nomination and one for best score. So now it’s back in the mix.

Alicia Vikander got an “Ex Machina” Golden Globe nomination. Hurray for that. AND she got a supporting actress nomination for “The Danish Girl.”

Will Smith got a “Concussion” best actor nod, first big acclaim that film has won this Awards Season.

Paul Dano got a “Love & Mercy” nomination. The only one for that film.

“Mad Max: Fury Road” got George Miller an overdue best director nomination, and a best picture nod.

No Johnny Depp “Black Mass” nomination. No Carey Mulligan for “Suffragette.” And unlike the SAG awards, no love at all for “Straight Outta Compton.”

Love for “Room” and “Spotlight,” but more love for “The Big Short,” with multiple acting nominations.

“Trumbo” now officially feels like a contender — at least for Bryan Cranston.
“The Revenant” got best director, picture, score and actor (Leo) nominations and feels like a film to beat. “Spotlight” pulled no acting nominations. Mark Ruffalo got nominated for a little-seen comedy.

But “The Big Short” going into limited release Friday and wider release next week, seems like the BIG winner from both SAG and the HFPA. It will have Awards Bounce as it opens, fresh awards buzz. Can’t hurt.

But nobody is honoring the “Short” director, and best directors make best pictures, so “Spotlight” and “Carol” and “The Revenant” feel like Oscar front runners, right this minute. “Mad Max” is more of a “Let’s give George Miller his Oscar shot” pick I figure. Ridley Scott’s “Martian” nomination is much deserved, but Miller’s the overdue one.

McCarthy and “Spotlight” seem like natural Oscar night winners, to me.

As for the Globes? They’re handed out in mid-January (Jan. 10) on NBC. Yes, they nominate and honor TV programs, too (Netflix is the big winner among those nominations). But since TV’s Emmys are so much later in the year, and the Globes tilt so heavily towards new shows, their TV honors are even less relevant than the Oscar ones.

Here’s the complete list

So. The Screen Actor’s Guild Award nominations for 2015 are out.

Takeaway one — “I Smiled Back” (the Sarah Silverman nomination) and “Beasts of No Nation” suggest that SOME folks just sorta stayed at home and watched whatever was on VOD, and then nominated it.

Seriously. These nominations, for the most part, seem…small.

“Beasts” as “best ensemble,” a supposed predictor for a Best Picture Oscar nomination? I don’t see it. Good film, solid work by Idris and the kids. But small-scale and “issues epic” don’t work here.

Plenty of “three star” movies out there in the mix that are just as good, and didn’t co-premiere on Netflix.

“The Martian,” for instance. Big Hollywood hit. Well-acted, big (at Mission Control) ensemble. Left out.

“Love & Mercy,” AWOL. “Hateful Eight” and “Joy” are utterly omitted. The reason nobody is talking about these three — well, there’s a REASON. OK?

“Straight Outta Compton?” No critics’ groups have mentioned it. “Creed” comes up before this one, a forgotten gem from August. Well-played. “Creed” is piffle. “Compton” is a top ten contender. Kudos to the SAG folks for spotting that, anyway.

Rachel McAdams wasn’t all that in “Spotlight.” Best supporting actress? It’s like they weren’t even curious enough to see the great female performances of the year.

Much love for “Room” and “The Big Short,” the expected nominations came in for “Carol” and “Brooklyn.” The expected nominations — and no more, Cate and Rooney and Saoirse. “The Danish Girl” got two acting nominations — to be expected. “Bridge of Spies” only landed one. Kind of expected. Tom Hanks has enough.

“Trumbo” got some recognition  — good to see. THIS is the Helen Mirren performance of the year, not that “Woman in Gold” pic.

Johnny Depp in “Black Mass”? Why not?

Here’s their list. SAG Awards are handed out Jan. 30.

Golden Globe nominations are tomorrow.

“In the Heart of the Sea” is a tale of whales and wooden ships and the flawed flesh-and-blood men who hunted them.

Nathaniel Philbrick’s best-seller about the true story that inspired “Moby Dick” becomes a solid, beautifully-detailed but conventional screen adventure in the hands of Ron Howard.

It’s about Nantucket capitalism, greed, and the whale ship Essex, sunk by a whale in the middle of the Pacific at the height of the whale oil boom.

The Charles Leavitt script makes that “inspired ‘Moby Dick'” element literal. It presents this yarn in flashback, as a tale remembered by an old salt, Tom (Brendan Gleeson).  The young writer Herman Melville (Ben Whishaw) is the one who sends Tom on that trip into memory, forcing him to recall the horrors of that one voyage.

The old whaler remembers that 1819 voyage, and the class struggle between an able and qualified first mate and the in-over-his-head captain born into Nantucket whaling royalty. And Melville smells his Great American novel in the making.

Chris Hemsworth, the cinema’s current ideal man’s man, is Owen Chase, a mate who was promised a command, but forced to serve under George Pollard (Benjamin Walker), son of a rich captain. Their every encounter is cutting, the “silver spoon” man of privilege dismissing the “landsman” whose family has not lived on Nantucket long enough to count.

Howard and the screenwriter set this “Mutiny on the Bounty” conflict on edge with a harrowing 3D squall. The brigantine Essex is tossed on her beam-ends, canvas flapping, every inch of hemp rope groaning, every wooden beam, plank and yardarm moaning and on the verge of snapping.

Howard takes us above and beneath the waves for a whale hunt, shows us the (digital) kill and the gruesome business of harvesting the blubber and oil. His arty touches include lots of extreme close-ups of men and metalworking, blocks and belaying pins, ratlines and rigging.

It was an unlucky voyage, with few whales and feuding commanding officers anxious to finish their deadly work and get home so they could never see each other again. In South America, they’re warned about a “white as alabaster” whale with a grudge. And they laugh.

Cillian Murphy makes a solid impression as a mate and friend of Chase’s. Young Tom Holland is an engaging younger version of Gleeson’s Tom Nickerson, a wide-eyed kid “learning the ropes,” as they say at sea.

Hemsworth is properly hunky and iconic. He looks studly in the stand-at-the-masthead shot (Russell Crowe in “Master & Commander”), and manfully does his best with the quasi-poetic dialogue.

“Look at him! Most fearsome creature ever to live on this Earth!”

Walker pretty much wilts in Hemsworth’s presence, which might be dramatically required but tends to deflate the sails, here.

The particulars of the “vengeful” whale are given plenty of Hollywood touches, the lost-at-sea/”custom of the sea” ordeal of the shipwrecked crew is more gruesome in the telling than the showing.

The digital storms and whales are beautifully rendered, and the 3D (broken lines whipping at you, harpoons and whales right in your face) tastefully used.

But what’s missing here is the overarching theme of Melville’s book, the sense that this story had more than just class conflict and that one account of a whale fighting back in common with “Moby Dick.”

John Huston’s famous 1950s version of “Moby Dick” was troubled and flawed, but a true epic poem that seems to grow in stature with the passing decades. If he’d had digital whales and storms, the “troubled” label that dogged that Gregory Peck/Richard Basehart/Orson Welles film would have been erased. He got at the Big Ideas and Big Themes.

Howard’s “In the Heart of the Sea” merely unravels the yarn that inspired the great book, a good-looking film that never sinks, but never really soars either.

MPAA Rating: PG-13 for intense sequences of action and peril, brief startling violence, and thematic material

Cast: Chris Hemsworth, Brendan Gleeson, Benjamin Walker, Cillian Murphy, Ben Whishaw
Credits: Directed by Ron Howard, script by Charles Leavitt, based on the book by Nathaniel Philbrick. A Warner Brothers release.

Running time: 2:01

Tom Hardy manages the brilliant trick of playing two physically, emotionally and intellectually distinct mobster brothers in “Legend,” a new film about Britain’s Swinging ’60s and the thugs who bloodied them up. They are played in different shades of brutality, and Hardy never lets us see them as one actor portraying two men, even if the effects occasionally give away the game.

It’s another movie about The Krays, the dapper, businesslike and mercurial Reggie and his psychotic and unfiltered brother Ronald.

Reggie was lean and clean, a sharp dresser you didn’t want to cross. Ever.

Ronnie was thicker featured (dental appliances help), wore glasses, might drop a bit of literature or mythology into a conversation. Before he’d flip out and toss a tantrum, commit assault or stab or shoot you.

Reggie was a lady killer. Not literally. Perhaps that’s what Frances Shea (Emily Browning, a pixie-cut/mini-skirted embodiment of Mod London) saw in him. She narrates this story of gambling, gang-wars and extortion.

Ex-Doctor Who Christopher Eccleston is the hapless cop, always tailing the lads as they slip into their gigantic 1960s American cars (Lincoln Continental, Ford Galaxy 500) on trips to their various “legitimate businesses.”

Ronnie is “homosexual,” and blunt about it. Freshly out of prison when we meet him, he keeps pretty boys with him. But he’s off his meds, and he needs his meds to stay sane. Without them, his demons get the better of him.

David Thewlis plays their manager and “fixer,” Chazz Palminteri shows up as an American mob lieutenant making business arrangements with these up-and-comers.

Writer-director Brian Helgeland (“42,” and he scripted “Mystic River”) delivers a handsomely-mounted mob period piece, conventionally structured with moments of flash. He got Paul Bettany (hilariously psychotic) to play the Krays’ London mob rival, and stages a somewhat bemused “gang war” that’s all fun and games, until Ron breaks the hammers out — literally. Ears are bitten off and heads are butted. These guys were savage toughs, no matter how much polish they tried to present.

Browning never quite gives us a clue about what made Frances look the other way at the evidence of she was dating a brutish gangster. There’s no morality here, but where’s the real allure? Her family was tied to the Krays, no matter how much her scolding mother (Tara Fitzgerald) protested.

It overstays the welcome its Point A to Point B narrative can support. But it’s a more ambitious film than the earlier, grittier “The Krays,” with more of a sense of class consciousness (the lads mingled with nobility, which liked hobnobbing with the mob) and features the odd poetic flourish in the script.

As in the line their “fixer” affixes to their name, cementing the legend of Kray.

“There’s an inherent threat in that one commanding syllable.”

MPAA Rating: R for strong violence, language throughout, some sexual and drug material

Cast: Tom Hardy, Emily Browning, David Thewlis, Christopher Eggleston
Credits: Written and directed by Brian Helgeland, based on the John Pearson book. A Universal release.

Running time: 2:11

“Krampus” is a holiday horror farce that teeters on the uneasy middle ground between “Gremlins” and the Finnish Santa-as-Monster movie “Rare Exports.”

Not that funny, not that scary, it falls somewhere between “Oh, why not?” and “Oh, why bother?”

It’s built around a German myth about Santa’s “dark shadow,” a hoofed, horned and bearded beast who shows up to punish kids who have been naughty around the holidays. Leave it to the Germans.

Omi, the grandma played by Krista Stadler (a Teutonic dead ringer for Sissy Spacek) knows this. But she doesn’t warn grandson Max (Emjay Anthony), in either German or English. Perhaps that’s because wishing the worst on his horrible extended family seems, well, justified.

Mom (Toni Collette) and Dad (Adam Scott) are stressed, and grown-up-too-fast older sister (Stefania LaVie Owen) rolls her eyes at Max’s lingering belief in St. Nick.

But it’s not until Aunt Linda (Allison Tolman) and Uncle Howard (David Koechner, the boss/neighbor/relative everybody loves to hate) show up with their redneck knucklehead brood that Christmas goes to hell.

Elderly Aunt Dorothy (Conchata Ferrell) is the indigestible nut at the center of this fruitcake.

“Looks like Martha Stewart threw up in here…Where’s the nog? I need to get merry!”

So much for Max’s wish for a “Christmas, like it used to be.”

One torn up letter to Santa later, a blizzard begins, menacing snowmen turn up in the yard, the power goes out and the family starts to shrink, one jerk at a time.

Co-writer/director Michael Dougherty (“Trick’r Treat”) tapped into an unknown horror goldmine here. But the monsters — assorted dolls, jack-in-the-boxes and gingerbread men come to life, — are more amusing than menacing. Nothing we haven’t seen in the “Insidious” sequels.

The laughs about gun-toting rubes, sugar junkies, bullies getting their comeuppance, are scattered and rare. Most of them come from unfiltered Ferrell (of “Two and a Half Men”), playing a cliche.

“Who doesn’t make a ham for for Christmas? What are you now, a Jew?”

Collette doesn’t give us much to cling to, and Scott barely registers. Koechner’s loser-lout doesn’t have enough funny things to say or do.

It’s better in conception than in execution, with all the energy hurled at the effects and murderous Krampus attacks. The actors fail to feel the fear.

And really, what’s Christmas without the horror?

MPAA Rating:PG-13 for sequences of horror violence/terror, language and some drug material

Cast: Toni Collette, Adam Scott, David Koechner, Emjay Anthony, Conchata Ferrell.
Credits: Directed by Michael Dougherty, script by Todd Casey, Zach Shields and Michael Dougherty. A Universal release.

Running time: 1:38

A scattering of early Awards Season honors have made “Spotlight” the picture to beat, and an early Oscar favorite.

“Mad Max: Fury Road” has traction, and honors are landing on George Miller as director, an overdue honor for the guy who did all the “Mad Max” movies, AND “Babe,” AND “Happy Feet.”

The LA Critics found some love for “Ex Machina” star Alicia Vikander, there’s a probable Michael Shannon supporting actor nomination for “99 Homes” seemingly in the works, Leo DiCaprio is earning early buzz from the earliest groups (NY Critics, LA Critics, Boston Critics) for “The Revenent.”

Kristen Stewart is a surprise contender, thanks to her work in the “Clouds of Sils Maria,” unreleased at this point.

“Room” and “Brooklyn” and “Carol” are scoring the expected actress nominations in both lead and supporting categories. No love for “Suffragette?” “Joy” likewise isn’t on any Oscar prognosticator’s radar.

“Beasts of No Nation” has some Idris Elba buzz, but no way Hollywood will honor a movie released in a few theaters AND on Netflix at the same time. Or will they?

Matt Damon (“The Martian”) and Michael B. Jordan (“Creed”) feel like outliers with a genuine chance to land a coveted Globe and/or Oscar nomination. Have to wonder if “Creed” will fade before that happens. “Martian” has legs, and it’s a terrific performance.

These results are tilted, early on, by the non-indicator groups “Boston Online Critics,” National Board of Review (humph), Gotham Awards, etc. Figure several titles will fade, a couple of others will rise. Those last two are notorious for honoring films that aren’t remembered come Christmas.

And let’s face it, journalist movie critics are going to LOVE a movie about heroic (print) journalists, so “Spotlight” might be earning the benefit of a little bias.

But attention is being shoved at “Love & Mercy” and some other little seen wonders at just the right moment. Some gold might emerge from this mid-December buzz.

“Chi-Raq” is Spike Lee’s most audacious film in decades. DECADES.

It’s as if he ignored everything after “Do the Right Thing,” which included a few very good films, a few mediocre ones and some dreadful “Spike is DONE” outings, and reached back to his outspoken youth.

A preachy, edgy riff on Aristophanes’ ancient Greek classic “Lysistrata,” “Chi-Raq” is as timely as the latest mass shooting, as topical as the gun violence body count on any evening TV newscast. It’s the best movie you didn’t get around to seeing last weekend.

Like “Lysistrata,” it’s a script built on topical rhymes — hip-hopped and slangy. Samuel L. Jackson, a veteran of Lee’s early films, dazzles as the foul-mouthed narrator Dolmedes.

He tells of Chicago, a town so riven by gun violence, so overwhelmed by murder that “the big money maker is the black-suit undertaker.”

He tells of the gang war — Trojans in orange, led by the one-eyed mobster Cyclops (Wesley Snipes, in his funniest performance in this century), vs. Spartans in purple, led by the charismatic rapper Chiraq, played and sung by Nick Cannon.

Yes, THAT Nick Cannon, the black Ryan Seacrest, the light comedian and game show host who married Mariah Carrey.

Cannon is the revelation here, giving a startling turn of menace, power and regret as the rapper/gang leader/lover whose charisma is never in doubt, whose morality is hidden deep in the recesses of his tattooed soul.

The one person who may have influence over Chiraq is Lysistrata, played with a searing sexual and intellectual dynamism by Teyonah Parris. She is the stiletto-heeled harpy who might be able to stop the violence. Once she’s been shown how.

Angela Bassett has the wise-old-woman of Englewood role here, the woman who points out to Lysistrata the example of Liberian activist Leymah Gbowee. Like the ancient Greek Lysistrata, Gbowee convinced the women of her troubled country to withhold sex until the menfolk dialed down the violence of Liberia’s civil war.

That is what Lysistrata talks Cyclops’ girl (Michelle Mitchenor) into joining her in — a “sex strike,” as in “no peace, no” um, sexual congress.

Lee and screenwriter Kevin Willmott (“The Confederate States of America”) stick close enough to the Greek source material to give this structure. But the fun stuff involves Lee revisiting “School Daze” and other earlier hits. The chaotic conflict of the sexes, of women on women, and its consequences dances off the screen. The humor can be low, broad, juvenile. Just as it was in “She’s Gotta Have It” and those earliest Spike outings.

Dave Chapelle  shows up as a strip club owner, rhyming and whining his worries about a lack of pole dancers during this strike. D.B. Sweeney is the comically embattled mayor. David Patrick Kelley is a Confederacy-loving National Guard general caught with his Stars and Bars underwear showing. There are references to Kelley’s defining role, in the classic gang film “The Warriors,” in other scenes.

And John Cusack yells himself hoarse as a white priest who hectors and lectures his mostly-African American congregation about their history, their leaders, the violence in their community and the National Rifle Association’s role in America’s culture of gun violence.

That last bit should have derailed the film, but it works. Lee plays things in alternating shades of seriousness and satiric silliness — a sexual “slow jam” sing-off, lots of choreography. And there’s Mister Senor Love Daddy reincarnated, Samuel L., donning suits of many colors, stepping out, front and center, to re-set the tale and reinforce the message of Lee’s most strident early films.

“Wake Up!”

Damn if it doesn’t still work.

MPAA Rating: R for strong sexual content including dialogue, nudity, language, some violence and drug use

Cast: Teyonah Parris, Nick Cannon, Angela Bassett, Samuel L. Jackson, John Cusack, Wesley Snipes
Credits: Directed by Spike Lee, script by Kevin Willmott and Spike Lee, based on the play by Aristophanes. An Amazon Studio/Roadside Attractions release.

Running time: 1:58