Movie Review: An “Anniversary” that Democracy Shouldn’t Celebrate, but Dread

Critics — the thinking ones anyway — have been wearing out the phrase “a movie of its moment” these past couple of years.

A leader out to tear the country to pieces surfed a tidal wave of oligarch money, ignorance and hate to power. Films from “Joker” and “Civil War” to “One Battle After Another” have spoken — directly or indirectly — to America’s division and the current existential and Constitutional crisis.

But “Anniversary” is the movie that brings it all home, parking the autocrats with the democrats under the same roof. It’s a dystopian parable about the furious schisms in families wrought by political division, the normalizing of intolerance and indecency and “principles” that aren’t of much use when masked goons are knocking at your door.

Polish director Jan Komasa (“The Hater” and the Oscar-nominated “Corpus Christi” were his), first-time-feature screenwriter Lori Rosene-Gambino and a star-studded cast take us into a toxic landscape where battle lines are drawn and the only ones trying to keep the peace are ineffectual because they refuse to recognize the peril in not taking sides.

And it all happens under a single roof, a family torn to pieces over five years of “anniversaries” that devolve from pained celebrations to the muzzled, menaced lashing out against the autocracy one family cannot keep from taking over.

Ellen and Paul Taylor (Diane Lane and Kyle Chandler) are a D.C. “power couple” of the second tier. She’s an academic who declines to align herself as either a “conservative or liberal,” but lets her passion for the Constitution, the Rule of Law, freedom and human rights out every time she shows up on a TV political debate show. Paul’s a veteran restaurateur whose Capital City eatery has drawn a generation of the connected rich, the elected and the appointed.

Daughter Anna (“Orange is the New Black” breakout Madeline Brewer) has become a popular hot-button-issue comic. Younger daughter Cynthia (Zoey Deutch of “Set It Up”) is a hardnosed lawyer married to a fellow attorney (Daryl McCormack of “Good Luck to You, Leo Grande”) and partner with whom she tackles environmental cases.

And youngest daughter Birdie (McKenna Grace of “The Handmaid’s Tale” and “Ghostbusters: Afterlife”) is still in school, an aspiring biologist already expert in the funguses of the Potomac River.

But as the Taylors celebrate their 25th anniversary, only son Josh (Dylan O’Brien from the “Maze Runner” movies and TV’s “Teen Wolf”) is the one who turns over the table at this posh party Dad catered and set up. He’s shown up with his petite and ever-so-proper new lady friend, Liz. And Liz (Phoebe Dynevor of TV’s “Bridgerton”) and Josh’s mom have history.

Liz was one of those entitled young academics who wanted to speak her autocracy-embracing mind in class, whose entitlement included flipping out when her self-assured fascist certitudes got slapped down by Professor Ellen, who found the glib “one party” advocacy of her student “dangerous. Ellen isn’t buying Liz’s connection to her aspiring writer-son as a coincidence.

“What do you want, Elizabeth?”

Gullible, failing novelist Josh doesn’t see a problem here. “Give her a chance and you might like her.” Her husband dismisses her alarm at Liz’s “radical idealogy.” “College students…they’re all a bunch of little Mussolinis.”

But we and Ellen see through the calculation of the young woman with a right wing corporation/think tank’s book deal.

“You know, I used to be afraid of you,” Liz coos. “But I don’t think I am any more.”

That book, “The Change,” has big money backers and media amplification, thanks to its telegenic author. She may be the classic “stupid person’s idea of what a smart person sounds like,” a Bari Weiss, Charlie Kirk, Andrew Tate “influencer” of the easily influenced, spouting talking points the superrich tax-avoidances class are happy to underwrite.

Her book is quicjly ginned up into a “movement,” complete with bastardized Stars and Stripes flown by fools who fall for the Orwellian double-speak of The Cumberland Company and its compliant talking heads.

“Anniversary” is about the years-long consequences of this coupling, which may have begun as Liz’s ultimate revenge on a smug-smarter-than-her academic but which spirals into drone-enforced “curfews,” political persecution (Anna goes into hiding), where even the census is weaponized to intimidate those who don’t meekly fall into line.

Over the course of five years of future anniversaries, the Taylor family is torn asunder, and America falls with it.

The performances in this living current events dystopia crackle with brittle fury, with Lane snapping time and again, Grace channeling outrage into Anna’s woke lesbian stage act and O’Brien reminding us that dictatorships run on mediocrities just like him, failures empowered by finding the right whipping boy and joining those doing the whipping.

The “just a perspective outside your own” threat will be minimized and characters will be radicalized, recriminations will be whispered and doublespeak celebrated. Chandler’s nuanced turn stands out as Paul’s determination to hang on to a business with out-of-political-favor baggage and a family that won’t listen to his “no politics at the table” frustrates even a peacemaker like him.

Oh, how we’ll miss those “turkey and (Native American) genocide” Thanksgiving debates when the right wing thought police are in charge.

The narrative features assorted tugs-of-war over the mortal soul of some characters, with others of the Rally Around Mom No Matter What mindset. Who is “grooming” whom may be in doubt, but there is no arguing about which side has more sinister intent.

There are few accidents in movies, and making a Crowded House classic “our song” for the anniversary couple forces the viewer to consider what lyrics like “There is freedom within, there is freedom without” mean.

Director Komasa even plays with star Diane Lane’s punk film teen years in the music that Ellen jams to when nobody’s around. “Punk” is a word assorted right wing figures are appropriating to describe their idea of civil debate, their journalism and their ethos, something reflected in Liz’s espoused “philosophy.

And get a load of what the button-pushing comic Anna named her dog if you want to see where her finger points as to How We Got Here. “Garland.”

It’s a lot to take in, but considering how everybody’s favorite description of the past ten years is “It’s been a lot,” that’s only fitting.

“Anniversary” may be, like its “movie of the moment” forebears, another shout into the void. But everybody involved — especially Lane, whose performance is another career highlight — can take heart in trying to sum up democracy’s collapse as seen through one, generally slow-to-alarm inside-the-beltway family’s disintegration. Yeah, it happened like this.

Rating: R, violence, profanity, sex is discussed

Cast: Diane Lane, Kyle Chandler, Phoebe Dynevor, McKenna Grace, Madeline Brewer, Daryl McCormack, Dylan O’Brien and Zoey Deutch.

Credits: Directed by Jan Komasa, scripted by Lori Rosene-Gambino. A Lionsgate release.

Running time: 1:51

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Movie Review: Louis Mandylor commits another War (Movie) Atrocity — “Prisoner of War”

The director and star of the most laughably under-researched WWII action pic in ages strikes again with “Prisoner of War,” a Scott Adkins martial arts star vehicle that puts a kickboxing RAF pilot on the Bataan Peninsula of the Philippines in time for the “Bataan Death March.”

The director of “3 Days in Malay” — an ahistorical atrocity like no other — serves up a timeline-botched prisoner of war tale with kamikaze-attacked convoys, Navajo code talkers, captured Japanese walkie talkies with the range of modern sat phones and Bugs Bunny physics involving gliders.

As our RAF pilot claims to have taken off from a “banana boat” to end up getting his CGI Spitfire (Maybe it was a Hurricane) shot down in April of ’42 over Luzon, and soldiers use then-new and little-used in America police dept. “10” codes (“10-4”) there’s no point in turning the endless anachronisms and “goofs” into a drinking game unless suicide by alcohol poisoning is your aim.

Nobody wants a Louis Mandylor movie (or a Scott Adkins one for that matter) to be the last sights and memories you have in life.

Adkins plays Wing Commander James Wright, also an SAS commando, he insists, who gets shot down, slaughters assorted oddly-uniformed Japanese soldiers, is taken prisoner and hears the phrase “Tomorrow, you DIE” the first of many many times.

We first meet Wright as he stalks into a Tokyo dojo in 1950 hunting for the Lt. Col. Ito (Peter Skinkoda) who tortured and murdered prisoners at the camp where he was held during the war. Wright beats the hell out of the entire dojo when Ito’s son (Kansuke Asano) sics the lot of them on him.

Flashbacks tell us of the crash, the other inmates (Michael Rene Walton, Michael Capon, et al) and assorted guards Wright dispatches whenever Lt. Col. Ito sadistically ordains a fight between his guards and his prisoners. It does little for Japanese morale when Wright and a few hulking Americans hold their own with the vaunted martial artists of Japan.

Beheadings are threatened and delivered, just not to Wright. Prisoners are summarily shot for any infraction. Wright beats their behinds and kills more than a few, and somehow gets away with it.

Plans to escape are discussed, a glider turns up in the islands years before they were used in that part of the world (the timeline is borderline non-existant). And the Japanese cast members seem a tad discouraged and dispirited by taking this gig. They must have seen “3 Days in Malay.”

At least Adkins handles the fights with skill if not a whole lot of originality.

The script is an incompetent mash-up of WWII and Vietnam War POW picture cliches. The direction is lax and uninspired, which explains how 75 minutes worth of plot, characters and action becomes a 112 minute movie.

And yet Mandylor has other pictures in the can as I type this. Go figure.

Rating: R, violence, torture scenes

Cast: Scott Adkins, Peter Shinkoda, Gabbi Garcia, Michael Rene Walton, Michael Capon, Masanori Mimoto and Kansuke Asano.

Credits: Directed by Louis Mandylor, scripted by Scott Adkins and Marc Clebanoff. A Well Go USA release

Running time: 1:52

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Movie Review: A Twee Brit Romance with a Bittersweet Taste, “The Ballad of Wallis Island”

Ever so slight and so very, very British, “The Ballad of Wallis Island” passes the time like reading P.G. Wodehouse with a cup of Earl Grey on a rainy autumn afternoon.

A couple of supporting players from British TV cooked this up and play our not-quite Jeeves and Wooster, with a woman sort of coming between them or viewed another way, summoned to give them a reason to go on.

“Alan Partridge” survivor Tim Key is a bearded, redheaded walking/punning British cliche, a shy, repressed bloke who’s won the lottery and decided what he’d really like, after buying the nicest, biggest house on tiny,windswept Wallis Island (Ramsey Island and parts of  Carmarthenshire were the filming locations), is to hear his favorite folk pop duo, McGwywer Mortimer, reunite and play one more show.

He puts up the cash and signs the contract. But he doesn’t tell the estranged pair (Tom Basden of Ricky Gervais’s “After Life,” and Carey Mulligan) or their management anything in the way of details.

The place is remote, reached only by a weathered 16 foot beach skiff. This will be no “Glastonbury.” The place’s population is low, and how they can afford a store and a phone box with almost no residents is a wonder. The show is basically for lottery winner Charles.

And neither singer/songwriter/guitarist Herb McGywer nor singer and onetime songwriter Nell Mortimer know the other will be coming. The payday will be so big his manager and her husband (Akemnji Ndifornyen) didn’t ask a lot of questions.

Imagine their shock when they wade to the beach to be greeted by the fill-the-awkwardness-with-words chatterbox Charles.

“How many people” will hear them? “Less than 100” is as specific as Charles gets. As it rains a lot, he’s inclined to be prepared himself and pointlessly note that Herb isn’t.

“You are Dame Judi. Dame Judi drenched!

Being on the spectrum awkward has Charles hunting for puns in every sentence, often ruining them by “explaining” them as is the way of those who don’t pick up on social signals. “Let’s go, then” would never do when he can summon some twisted Shakespeare.

“Shall I plod on, MacDuff?”

Herb’s phone gets soaked and he can’t even find rice to dry it out at the tiny local story run by single mom Amanda (Sian Clifford). He needs change to use the phone, hands Charles a £50 pound note and is handed a full lack of coins.

He’s barely dried off and gotten his bearings when he realizes that it won’t be his solo work that he’s playing (he has a new album in the works) and that neither he nor Nell knew the other was coming. He won’t be able to dodge chatty/nosey Charles’ “Whom dumped or was dump by whom?” queries much longer.

When Nell shows up — she moved to Portland, Oregon after the breakup — she’s got a husband Peter in tow. We don’t have to wonder what Charles was thinking. And as Peter’s as avid birder and takes off on a puffin tour of the island, people who have and haven’t moved on will thrown together in what seems like an inevitable plot.

It’s a credit to Key, Basden and first time feature director James Griffiths that the story trips up expectations at most every turn, often to comical and charming effect.

Charles has a grass tennis court and a shockingly good serve, Herb discovers. But as the jackpot winner hasn’t had anyone’s serve to return in eons, their match is sure to be deadlocked.

In fleshing out a short film they made with these characters and this story back in 2007, Basden, Key and Griffiths reach for deeper hurt and fuller explanations of the how and why everyone is like they are. Mulligan signed on and made the film plausible, in terms of star power finances. But what all involved were hired to do was to underplay their characters. They explore the infamous British reserve, where so much is left unsaid, suffering in silence is a national sport and punning a birthright obligation, and do it all in a “Jane Eyre/Wuthering Heights” setting.

The songs are pleasant enough, with Basden a convincing troubador and Mulligan not bad at all at harmonizing. But this isn’t “Once.” “Pleasant enough” carries a lot of baggage in describing the tunes. There’s not much here that would seem to merit obsessive fandom.

That said, the performances are spot on. And all involved have made a marvelously melancholy “feel good” movie that ticks off so many Brit film boxes — eccentric characters, quaint and soggy setting, emotions kept under wraps and a charming, wistful story about moving on, being smart enough to realize the need for it and kind enough to help others manage it as well.

Rating: PG-13, smoking, profanity

Cast: Tom Basden, Tim Key, Sian Clifford,
Akemnji Ndifornyen and Carey Mulligan,

Credits: Directed by James Griffiths, scripted by Tom Basden and Tim Key. A Focus Features release now on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:38

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Documentary Review: The “Mr. Scorsese” Saga in Five Parts

Film buffs idolize him. Film students long to become him. His fellow filmmakers emulate him. Actors long to work with him. And film journalists relish the chance to bask in his presence and find something to ask or say to him that gets that infectious laugh going.

Martin Scorsese emerged as America’s most important movie maker with “Raging Bull.” Hollywood took a bit longer to figure that out. But his decades without Academy Award recognition just burnished his myth, the “maverick,” the artist, the “Hollywood outsider” who made the Greatest American movies in spite of “the system,” “the club” he was never wholly welcomed into.

“Mr. Scorsese” is a deep and somewhat intimate dive into the totality of one of the cinema’s greatest artists, the sort of epic treatment of the director of “Goodfellas,” “Taxi Driver,” “The Wolf of Wall Street” and “The Last Temptation of Christ” that Scorsese himself gave one of his idols — Bob Dylan — for PBS.

Actress turned director (“Personal Velocity,” “”Maggie’s Plan”) and “Mr. Scorsese” director and interviewer Rebecca Miller is part of the extended Scorsese film family. The daughter of the great playwright Arthur Miller is married to Daniel Day-Lewis, who starred in a couple of Scorsese classics — “Gangs of New York” and “The Age of Innocence.”

That gave her access to most everybody who was or is anybody in Scorsese’s life story — from his most famous collaborators DeNiro, DiCaprio and Pesci to his legendary editor, Thelma Schoonmaker, “Taxi Driver” screenwriter turned director Paul Schrader to his most famous ex-wife, Isabella Rossellini.

But her real coup might have been rounding up Scorsese’s paisonos — not just his fellow Italian Americans in the movies — director Brian DePalma, Robert DeNiro, writer Nicholas Pileggi, Leonardo DiCaprio — but his running mates from childhood.

The “small” and “asthmatic” Scorsese grew up with a rough and tumble crew in Flushing, Queens, and Miller interviews them and even has Scorsese sit down with them to joke around and talk about the world they came up in, with slackers, wise guys, “good” Catholics and aspiring cutthroats.

DeNiro grew up a block or two away. “Mean Streets” captured that world, and DeNiro revisited it for a Barry Levinson movie named for the local mob “social club,” “Alto Knights.”

Once Scorsese figured out the priesthood wasn’t for him and turned his passion for movies and drawing his own ersatz “storyboards” telling the stories of his favorite films into film school and then a movie making career, these figures and those settings inspired “Mean Streets” and much of the mob cinema that was to come.

“Mean Streets” truly launched his career and Miller talks Scorsese’s pals into getting the “inspiration” for DeNiro’s breakout character Johnny Boy to sit down with her and own up to the resemblence.

We learn about his earliest film education, “neorealist (Italian classics) on New York TV,” see glimpses of his early student films and learn that independent filmmaker John Cassavettes was an early mentor, one who kindly chewed him out for taking on a cheap Roger Corman-produced genre picture (“Boxcar Bertha”) and planning on another (“I Escaped from Devil’s Island”) rather than film stories from his heart.

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Documentary Review — Home Movies as Comedy Couples Counseling, “Stiller & Meara: Nothing is Lost”

They were the hottest comic “double act” of their day. Stiller & Meara were never as hip as Nichols and May, but reliably funny, TV (“family audience”) friendly and just edgy enough to give the live New York studio audiences for “The Ed Sullivan Show” knowing giggles. They were TV mainstays for decades.

They raised a couple of kids and kept a seriously unconventional marriage together for over 60 years while each eventually pursued solo stardom as a sometimes comic, sometimes dramatic actress and an always amusing — even in thrillers — comic character actor.

Their famous son, Ben Stiller, marvels at how they managed it even as he and sister Amy note how rocky things sometimes were in “Stiller & Meara: Nothing is Lost,” Ben’s documentary valentine to his parents.

It’s a sweet and comical tribute and an attempted dissection of a union that lasted, comedy routines that endure and the love and egos and shouting matches that somehow allowed it to work.

“Sometimes we couldn’t tell if it was real or they were ‘rehearsing,'” siblings Ben and Amy complain.

“Rehearsing,” they dad and then their mom would admit in scores of TV interviews with the likes of Johnny Carson, Mike Douglas and Merv Griffin. “That’s what we tell’em,” the parents would say of their kids. Jerry and Anne would get a laugh for the admission. But just as often, they’d admit that no, “We’re fighting” to their kids and to their TV hosts and audiences, which seemed more accepting of rancorous marital dischord in that earlier age.

Anne Meara was a self-described “Irish princess from Long Island,” and Catholic, when she met the short, intense Jewish striver from Williamsburg, Brooklyn in acting school. Stiller’s chutzpah and Meara’s sprawling, emotionally open presence made for a hilarious stage act which they launched in the ’60s — after Jerry convinced Anne that comedy was serious business that could make them rich and famous, to boot.

Their sketch act played up the seeming mismatch of their coupling with Stiller often the straight man to Meara’s droll put downs and broad, loud comical mood swings. Talent scout and taste-influencer supreme Ed Sullivan adored them and made them famous for reasons the documentary reveals.

The fact that they had their act spill over into comical bickering in TV interviews over the decades made for fun TV, but created confusion in their kids, who coped with childhoods in which one or both parents wasn’t around. A lot.

Both Amy and Ben got their intro to show business in films and TV shows featuring their parents and little Benjy eventually reached “the apex of show business,” a big box office star and producer/director who’d cast his family in his shows and movies. Jerry documented all this, Ben notes when going through his father’s vast “collection” — bad reviews (Jerry would sometimes write irate notes to critics) included.

Jerry “saved everything” his late wife lamented for comical effect, as if he expected they merited their own exhibit at the Smithsonian. But that vast archive made this documentary possible.

Stiller the elder provides much of the film’s visual and aural documentation of the parents’ career, the kids’ childhoods and the state of the Meara/Stiller marriage. Ben Stiller had access to decades of love letters and audio of parental arguments and state-of-the-marriage conversations, some of them recorded over the phone.

These were remarkably “public” lives, with the kids landing laughs with their parents in assorted gigs and Jerry and Anne perfecting their interview shtick on live or live-on-tape TV. They made “shaddup” a loving punchline.

“Shut up, Jerry, that’s not interesting” is how Jerry described Anne’s ability to get him back on the funny track in these interviews.

Looking at outtakes from Jerry Stiller’s finest hours as a comic actor, his turn in “Seinfeld,” it’s obvious he wasn’t the better actor or even that good at remembering his lines, something son Ben realized as he made “Nothing is Lost.”

“I don’t think Dad would have had a career in comedy without her.”

But Jerry did, and the painstaking ways he and Meara polished sketches, figured out laughs and perfected their act made her a future playwright and informed Anne’s dramatic work in her later career. Jerry pretty much stole every scene he ever undertook in “Seinfeld,” often earning a cackle just from the way he’d stumble into the wrong word emphasis in a line, an effect Larry David made sure to preserve.

“Nothing is Lost” is never quite the probing analysis of their marriage that it might have been, with Ben attempting to use how they made it work to understand whatever it was that almost ended his marriage (he and wife Christine Taylor separated, then came back together during COVID).

With Ben and Amy and Christine and Ben and Christine’s near-adult kids weighing in, this is very much the “authorized” version of the parents’ and their children’s biographies. The film doesn’t achieve “confessional” and there’s no hint of scandal or infidelity in either marriage in the movie. Anne had her struggles with alcohol, but Ben lets Christopher Walken describe his father as a “saint” and his mom as the one who “scared” him, which makes us wonder if Daddy’s Boy was a bit biased in how he pitches all this.

But it’s a wonderful time capsule and a warm — with some reservations — remembrance of growing up in showbiz, the children of famous people who’d get stopped on the street, in the restaurant or wherever by strangers, even when the kids were the ones desperately wanting and needing their attention.

Rating: TV-MA, profanity

Cast: Ben Stiller, Amy Stiller, Christine Taylor, Christopher Walken, Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara.

Credits: Directed by Ben Stiller. An Apple TV+ release (Oct. 24).

Running time: 1:38

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Movie Review: “The Astronaut” Came Home with More than She Bargained For

The new sci-fi thriller “The Astronaut” is a somewhat ungainly marriage of “Alien” and “E.T.” It begins with mystery and danger and the best of intentions. But the longer the marriage goes on, the worse things get.

Kate Mara has the title role, a space traveler whose splash down from a trip to the International Space Station didn’t go as planned. We see recovery teams racing to her half-sunken capsule, see the water inside when they pop the hatch and note the busted glass visor on her helmet.

Uh. Oh.

Sam has nosebleeds, bouts of tinnitus and “zero gravity hallucinations,” which can be explained away. But those bruises that seem to spread? Her doctor (Ivana Milicevic) seems concerned. That’s why Sam is parked in a rural safe house after quarantine. But the film’s logic has us wondering why she’s left there alone, and why she wouldn’t smell a rat by that fact herself.

“Sounds like a horror movie,” she jokes.

Her academic husband (Gabriel Luna of “The Last of Us” and “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D”) is halfway out the door of this marriage and the risks Sam seems hellbent on renewing. Only her astronaut pal (Macy Gray) understands the need for spaceflight speed.

“Even if you feel horrible, keep it to your damned self,” she advises if Sam wants to stay in the mission rotation.

But the nosebleeds, the nightmares, the blackouts, the visions and the things that go bump in the night outside this hi-tech “safe” house are a lot to keep from everybody. Her Air Force general father (Laurence Fishburne) is protective but strangely unconcerned.

Actress turned first-time feature director Jess Varley (her “Camping Safe” comedy does not appear to have been released) doesn’t hide her cards well. Every lapse in logic is rendered so obviously as to either make no sense or reveal “secrets” that the movie isn’t very good at keeping.

The jolts are mild by the horror/sci-fi standards of today.

Mara invests in the part and reaches for pathos amid the peril, and Fishburne, Luna and Gray are adequate in support.

But when the surprises aren’t very surprising except in ways that betray the picture’s tone and every illogical thing we can’t help but notice gives away those surprises, the only conclusion is that this “Astronaut” doesn’t have the right stuff even if Mara does.

Rating: unrated, violence

Cast: Kate Mara, Laurence Fishburne, Gabriel Luna, Ivana Milicevic, Scarlett Holmes and Macy Gray.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Jess Varley. A Vertical release.

Running time: 1:30

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Documentary Preview: Ben Stiller, his wife, sister and others remember his parents — “Stiller and Meara: Nothing is Lost”

Got Apple TV+? This new doc by Ben Stiller is about his parents, one of the great comedy acts of their era, mught be reason enough to subscribe.

Anne Meara and Jerry Stiller were married comic foils playing married comic foils, good actors and funny in their bones, but a couple that had a hard time keeping the work life and home life separate.

God knows their kids (Ben, his sister Amy and his wife Christine Taylor also appear) couldn’t see the boundaries.

April 24, we find out how a tall, barking Irish Catholic and a short braying Brooklyn Jew met in an acting company and partnered for life. At their peak, they were never more than a few days between appearances on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” “The Tonight Show” or wherever.

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Movie Review: “Black Phone 2,” a Busy Signal with Static

It’s helpful to remember 2021’s “The Black Phone” when pondering all the things that are different about the sequel, “Black Phone 2.” Because many of those differences point to why the second film spun off a Joe Hill (Stephen King’s son) short story doesn’t work.

Director Scott Derrickson did both films, and his early ’80s visual aesthetic (with flashbacks to the late ’50s) is an arresting revisit not just to the Golden Age of Duran Duran, Dorothy Hamill bob haircuts and add-a-gold-bead necklaces. The images are grainy, home movie/early home video quality. It’s a winter tale this time, so there’s snow and cold and forests rendered in simple, stark blacks

And the sound — silences were so important to the first film’s horror — is crackly, the static of a “Poltergeist” TV set or a land line on its last legs.

But the terror was almost mythic in that first film, like a story passed through generations of tweens and teens. Somebody was snatching Denver elementary school kids off the street in the ’70s, somebody with a black van with black balloons spilling out of the back, someone entirely happy to wear monstrous mask.

“The Grabber” would lock children in his basement for his torturing pleasure. The story’s lone supernatural element is the phone in that basement. Children are communicating through time about this monster and their fate, and ways to forestall it.

In “Black Phone 2” the supernatural pre-Android is a pay phone booth at a Alpine Christian Camp for kids in the mountains of Colorado. A voice from the past reaches out from the horrors of the late ’50s to Gwen (Madeline McGraw) in the 1982 present.

It’s not like her family needs more trauma. Her dad (Jeremy Davies) is blitzed and disconnected from life. Brother Finney (Mason Thames) has soured into a bully who only needs a “new kid” to ask him about being the boy who killed The Grabber (Ethan Hawke) as an excuse to beat the hell out of that child.

Gwen and Finney are still having nightmares, with Gwen’s connected to her dead mother’s 1950s camp youth. In “Nightmare on Elm Street” fashion, “Black Phone 2” is about interrupting those dreams and surviving them. Because The Grabber, whom we all saw finished off, has become The Thing/Jason Voorhees/Michael Myers/Pennywise and Freddy Krueger with a van. He won’t die.

The cliche of summer camp horror since “Friday the 13th” has been slaughter visited upon such places just before opening for the season, or just after. Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill (“The Gorge,” ugh) send Gwen and Finney and their pal Ernesto (Miguel Mora) to Camp Alpine for a dead-of-winter Christian retreat. A blizzard keeps other counselors from making it through.

Only camp counselor Mustang (Arianna Rivas) and lone adult Mando (Demián Bichir) are there to take them in from the cold and get tangled up in this family’s history with a monster who got the camp closed in the late ’50s thanks to his abductions.

The bodies of three little boys were never found.

A call from Gwen and Finney’s mother (Anna Lore) sets a new “test” for the siblings in motion.

“She reached out to me for a reason,” Gwen figures.

The wintry settings — often filmed in a dark, snowy void — look like green screen effects, with nobody really reacting to the icy cold — even when plunged into the lake that no summer/winter camp would be complete without.

The performances register little of the terror that the first film’s younger children in peril got across.

Hawke, in scary mask and gruesome makeup underneath it, milks the inexplicable villainy of monsters who prey on children — murderers or pedophiles.

“I am a bottomless pit of sin!”

Bichir adds a little gravitas to the proceedings. Not much. Giving him a line nobody in 1982 uttered into a phone (an anachronism) doesn’t help.

“It’s been a minute.”

Both “Black Phones” are derivative, as you might expect from material from Stephen King’s apprentice/son. But the derivations Derrickson went for in the sequel are simply not as arresting or interesting.

The setting — snowy or not — is a cliche. The jolts aren’t here. The pathos of the first film is mostly missing, thanks to the absence of innocent and helpless younger children. The “escape” element of that basement dungeon and suspense of whether anybody will get out is left out.

But “Doctor Strange” director Derricson took the assignment, brought in his “Gorge” writer, cashed the check and delivered an inferior photocopy. That’s no way to bolster one’s reputation as the New Sam Raimi or Wes Craven.

Rating: R, graphic violence, much of it directed at children, pot use, profanity

Cast: Madeline McGraw, Mason Thames, Jeremy Davies, Ariana Rivas, Miguel Mora, Demián Bichir and Ethan Hawke

Credits: Directed by Scott Derrickson, scripted by C. Robert Cargill and Scott Derrickson, based on characters created by Joe Hill. A Blumhouse/Universal release.

Running time: 1:54

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Movie Review: Have and Have-Not are flipped by a Guardian Angel with “Good Fortune” at his disposal

Keanu Reeves brings an offhand charm to his guardian angel turn in “Good Fortune,” Aziz Ansari’s season-neutral “A Christmas Carol” parable about America in general and LA in particular as a land of have-a-lots and have-nots.

Whatever inspiration the comic Ansari found in the State of the Nation, his nods to Dickens, Frank Capra and anybody else who’s taken an interest in the struggles of the working poor, his gig economy update features a star who is practically channeling “Starman.” Reeves’ line-readings always have an other worldly quality.

Ansari stars as a designated loser — a documentary film editor who can’t find work and can’t afford to live in one of the most expensive places in the country (LA) doing meal deliveries and “Task Sergeant” chores in an economy where the people doing the work get the shortest end of the stick. Arj is, angel Gabriel notes, “a lost soul” who shows lots of signs of “giving up.”

Arj is living in his VW Golf, chased from parking lot to parking lot night after night, lying to his family about his living arrangments, despairing that “nothing ever changes.”

Gabriel pleads his case to his boss angel (Sandra Oh). But his duties are limited to keeping drivers from killing themselves while texting and driving. Aged and sage Azrael (the great Stephen McKinley Henderson) is the Lost Souls specialist. Some angels are responsible for literary and musical inspiration, some change the course of lives. Gabriel just taps on people’s shoulders in traffic to keep them from GIF/emoji/texting themselves to death.

Gabriel is supposed to intervene in Elena’s driving. She’s played by Keke Palmer, who tones down her often manic patter to play the heart of this story. Gabriel thinks Elena and Arj have a future together. But making himself known to the struggling part-timer only shows Arj, who just lost a promising “assistant” job with an entitled venture capitalist Jeff (Seth Rogen) what a soul-crushing, impoverished grind that a life with her will be with no money.

So Gabriel figures he’ll show Arj of Little Faith the way to enlightenment. He’ll sample the “shallow” and indulgent hilltop mansion life of luxury EVs and $250,000 watches that Jeff — who seems isolated by his money and insulated from consequences firing someone as desperate as Arj is.

A car getting towed can create a life and death crisis for someone in Arj’s income bracket. Jeff, the son of a surgeon and a lawyer, hasn’t a clue.

Ansari cast this well and has easy rapport with Reeves, Rogen and Palmer. His script touches on everything from labor organizing in big box stores to a big reason so many underpaid restaurant workers smoke.

“It’s all I’ve got.”

That’s what Gabriel clings to as he’s demoted for his screw ups and rendered into a chicken “nuggies,” milkshake, taco and burger loving mortal. He can’t afford his simple pleasures on a dishwasher’s salary. So he lights up and takes a resigned drag or two every time he gets a break.

The film avoids the Great Depression era movie trap of showing us the rich as just as miserable as everybody else. Having money reduces struggle, uplifts your social circle and improves your prospects for a mate that will be a part of a happier, easier life.

Ansari takes pains to demonstrate that the big difference between the comfortable and the struggling is money — being born with it, getting access to the education and contacts as part of that privilege. Rogen does a marvelous job of showing a guy blind to head start his life gave him, and yet still sweet enough to pity (not much) when it doesn’t look like he’ll ever get his money, his house, his watches and his status back.

But this satiric fantasy-comedy plays like a series of pulled punches. When you’re doomed to struggle, finding a reason to carry on without falling into substance abuse escape can seem pointless, which the script ignores. The role-playing switcheroo never really lands a blow or draws blood.

The leads are engaging and some jokes land. But none of them cut deep because there’s little edge to any of this. This isn’t “Meet John Doe” or “It’s a Wonderful Life” or even “Wings of Desire.” It’s a movie the bard Randy Newman summed up in a three and a half minute pop song decades ago.

“It’s money that matters.”

Rating: R, drug use, profanity, smoking

Cast: Aziz Ansari, Keanu Reeves, Seth Rogen, Sandra Oh and Keke Palmer.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Aziz Ansari. A Lionsgate release.

Running time: 1:38

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Documentary Preview: Eddie Vedder Goes Home and Goes Solo in Search of a Cure — “Matter of Time”

This is a solo concert film by the Peal Jam frontman, with the performances filmed in Seattle, on behalf of charity aimed at finding a cure for epidermolysis bullosa.

The pitch is that this is more about the disease and those who suffer from it than it is about the grunge icon doing the singing.

“Matter of Time” opens in a platforming release in Nov.

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