Movie Preview: Colman Domingo is in stir, “inside” stuck in “Sing Sing”

An “actor” in prison.

The arts as rehabilitation.

“Uplifting” by design, and another feather on Mr. Domingo’s accolade-bedecked hat.

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Movie Preview: The Chat Show from HELL — “Late Night with the Devil”

The ’70s, man. You had to be there. The disco. The drugs. The cheesy TV chat shows.

And the Devil! He might just show up as a guest on Merv or Mike Douglas or Cavett’s or Carson’s couch.

Love the ’70s look of this trailer, and those David Dastmalchian sideburns. Too much? Just right.

March 22.

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Movie Preview: A decently-mounted Western with a little known cast — “Trail of Justice”

I like the locations, the shot framing, the lighting and some of the action beats previewed in this March 19 release.

The cast looks literally wet behind the ears — green, unknown and too-freshly-scrubbed to be convincing Westerners of the late 19th century. But maybe it’ll live up to its convincing locations.

(Update: Here’s my review.)

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Movie Review: Italian single needs help believing she’s “Still Fabulous

The Amazon folks who loaded the Italian rom-com “Pensati Sexy” on Amazon Prime under the title “Still Fabulous” did this teetering sex farce no favors. None.

The proper translation of the title is “Think Sexy” as this “Think Sexy, Be Sexy.” As the film is the tale of an Italian 30something with low self-esteem, a “wallflower,” at least in her mind, it’s also accurate.

“Still Fabulous” means nothing in itself, and makes it sound like a further reboot of “Absolutely Fabulous,” which it most certainly is not.

It’s a clumsy, never-quite-humorous attempt to show our heroine discovering her “sexy” and learning to work it and to value herself by developing the confidence to “pick yourself” rather waiting for some man — “always the wrong guy” — to pick you.

Diana Del Bufalo of “My Big Gay Italian Wedding” stars as Maddalena, a temp — contract worker — at a quick-and-dirty publishing company. Easy Edizioni specializes in “ghost written” bios of actors, jocks, pop starlets, influencers and others too busy to write their own quick-turn-around autobiographies, which, as the publisher puts it, are sold “at truck stops” all over Europe.

Influencers like one-named beauty Lara (Jenny De Nucci) become their star “authors.” She wants her fans to know “all of the obstacles…brittle fingernails, oily scalp, split-ends are their vapid bread and butter.

Maddalena is the star ghost writer, a wit (barely demonstrated) who can get the flavor of the client, write a hit and in no time flat. Only the boss cannot recall her name and won’t promote her to staff, and the chief editor (Raoul Bova) only recalls her name because he’d like to sleep with her.

Her low self-esteems means that’s exactly what Maddalena agrees to do with the married Donato, only to discover that she’s no good at flirting, seduction or the nuts and bolts of being “sexy” at sex. He tells her so.

Add to that the anxiety of her prettier, more popular, happily married and very pregnant younger sister, their mom’s “favorite,” and Maddalena would seem a prime candidate for therapy.

Or maybe just a bite or two of her gay roomie’s (Fabrizio Colica) hashish-laced cake. That’s what gets her online, sampling porn for “research,” accosted by online sex star Valentina (Valentina Nappi) who sees her as a potential customer.

The screwy logic of dim-witted screenwriters dictates that Maddalena have hash “flashbacks,” that she start hallucinating Valentina, who offers advice about oral sex, about owning your femininity — “All women are beautiful!” — dressing sexier and asserting herself with men and with her bosses.

That’s a simple and workable plot for a formulaic rom-com. It should work. But this meandering, stumbling narrative wanders from attempted self-empowerment to the cliched “going viral” moment to unlikely “better offers,” little of it resonating, almost none of it funny.

Alessandro Tiberi plays the bearded hipster stand-up comic she meets at her sister’s mildly grotesque “gender reveal” party. Leonardo tries to talk Maddalena into taking up stand-up as a way of developing material for her own comical self-help book. He’s Mr. Right, we realize before she does, which is pretty much how the formula works.

Del Bufalo is cute and game, and entirely too reserved in this part to ever be funny. Nappi steals the picture, but even her role is limited and somewhat muzzled. Lurid tongue-licking and various vulgar suggestions are always good for a smirk, if not a wholehearted laugh.

That suggests that the title translation from Italian to English was nothing more than a dispirited compromise. “Pensati Sexy” promises more sex and sexiness than the filmmakers have the nerve to attempt. And “Still Fabulous” suggests laughs and fabulousness that is nowhere to be found.

Rating: 16+, nudity, sexual situations, profanity, drug abuse

Cast: Diana Del Bufalo, Valentina Nappi, Alessandro Tiberi, Raoul Bova, Fabrizio Colica and Jenny De Nucci.

Credits: Directed by Michela Andreozzi, scripted by Michela Andreozzi and Daniela Delle Foglie. An MGM/Amazon release on Amazon Prime

Running time: 1:32

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Movie Review: “Kung Fu Panda” comes back for Fourths

A lot of the charm has been deep fried out of “Kung Fu Panda,” a not-uncommon malady among successful kids’ cartoon franchises that have produced multiple films, and multiple seasons of a TV series.

Three credited writers and the vocal stylings of Jack Black and Awkwafina can’t render “Kung Fu Panda 4” into anything but semi-organized repetition, recycling and random riffs that rarely manage to interrupt the tedium or flatlining one-liners.

“I wish I had a dumpling for every time a villain told me ‘how much we have in common.'”

It’s like a later “Transformers” or Marvel movie, an umpteenth installment of your average action anime, where fan service and endless fights are all anybody involved can dream up.

Our Dragon Warrior, roly poly panda Po (Black) is in his prime, cocksure in fights and enjoying his celebrity. That makes this the perfect time to “Choose your successor,” Master Shifu the wee red panda (Dustin Hoffman) intones.

Po is reluctant to take “the next step in your journey,” senior spiritual management for The Valley of Peace. But that’s of little consequence when old foes like the tiger Tai Lung (Ian McShane) come back from the spirit world, because a new foe, The Chameleon of Juniper City (Viola Davis) is summoning them and adding to her powers to theirs to take down The Dragon Warrior.

A thieving ninja fox (Awkwafina) is arm-twisted into helping Po. His two dads (James Hong and Bryan Cranston) whine and fret over that. But there’s nothing for it but to face a new enemy by making their way to Juniper City.

That “choose a successor” business, all about “You know when you know” you’ve found the right warrior, will have to wait.

Fortune cookie one-liners abound. “Every step leaves a footprint, no matter how small.” “It is easier to hang onto the life you know than reach for the life you don’t.” “It’s never too late to do the right thing.”

There are a few chuckles, here and there, but “the right thing” as far as this movie is concerned is more and more comical brawling. It’s never quite a nine year-old’s idea of “cool” and never as funny as one would hope.

As Black’s Master Po asks in the film’s most telling line, “Where’s the skadoosh?”

The biggest laugh comes from the skipper whose Chinese junk sails to Juniper City on a regular run. Po negotiates with the pelican in charge. He thinks. Then the pelican opens its mouth and the “real” captain turns out to be a fish floating in seawater in the bird’s bill. The comic Ronny Chieng, voicing the fish, makes more amusement out of that sight gag than anybody else here manages.

Dreamworks built its animation empire out of smart-mouthed, sight-gagged character comedies like “Shrek” and “Puss in Boots” and “Madagascar.” It’s not shocking that they came back to the “Kung Fu Panda,” as, like Pixar, they’ve hit the wall when it comes to new ideas. But even they’d have to admit that cashing-in on a time-tested intellectual property may make business sense, and that Po and Co. deserved better than this.

Rating: Cartoon violence, “rude humor”

Cast: The voices of Jack Black, Awkwafina, Viola Davis, James Hong, Bryan Cranston, Ronny Chieng, Ian McShane, Ke Huy Quan and Dustin Hoffman.

Credits: Directed by Mike Mitchell and Stephanie Stine, scripted by Jonathan Aibel, Glenn Berger and Darren Lemke. A Dreamworks/Universal release.

Running time: 1:34

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Netflixable? Japan’s ghosts join “The Parades” in search of reconciling their life’s regrets

Slow moving and unmoving in the bargain, “The Parades” is a sentimental Japanese exercise in world building in the supernatural.

There’s a taste of “The Sixth Sense,” a hint of Pirandello’s “Six Characters in Search of an Author” and a lot of Rod Serling’s “Five Characters in Search of an Exit” in this downbeat fantasy about purgatory and the unfinished business, the “regrets” of the dead.

Writer-director Michihito Fujii (“A Family” is his best-known credit) emphasizes tone over pace and creates a movie of gently challenging twists, wish fulfillment fantasy and characters and performances so flat that there’s little incentive to finish “Parades,” or stay awake through it as you do.

Masami Nagasawa, star of “Mother,” is Minako, a woman we meet in the middle of a beachside reverie. She is abruptly swallowed by the sea. A “tsumani” we figure.

But she wakes up and starts searching for her little boy, Ryo. We learn she’s a single mom. We figure out she is a TV reporter. We’ve guessed which earthquake and tsumani hit her.

And by noticing her immaculate outfit that somehow survived, unblemished, by the second or third rescue worker who ignores her pleas, people she cannot grab to get their attention, we’ve figured out she’s dead. She quicky reasons out that she’s not the only ghost wandering the ruins of this disaster’s aftermath.

It’s only when she flags down a van driven by Akira (Kentarô Sakaguchi) that Minako starts to piece things together. He drives her to a ruined amusement park, with a functioning bar and tiny bungalows for living space. It’s an emcampment of the undead, dead people with “regrets.”

There’s the filmmaker (Lily Franky) who failed to complete his final film, set against student protests in Okinawa during the Vietnam War. A yakuza (Ryûsei Yokohama) didn’t live long enough to inherit his father’s gang or make a life outside of it with his bride. The upbeat bar owner (Shinobu Terajima) sadly checks in on her many children, the pregnant daughter whom she hopes to see give birth, even if she’s not literally “alive” to savor it.

A banker (Tetsushi Tanaka) is cagier about his past. And the newcomer (Nana Mori) with a schoolgirl’s uniform and a slit wrist barely needs to tell us her story. We can guess.

Every so often, these ghosts join others in “parades” to recognize their plight.

Minako has a hard time fitting in, because these people are “lazy” and incurious — stuck in place, some of them for years and years. They’re not settling their “regrets,” not moving on, not that curious about “What’s on the other side.”

But the filmmaker Michael has thoughts of finishing his final film in the afterlife. Akira is taking extensive notes about their netherworld, hoping to pass them on to the living. Minako is just looking for answers, hoping to find her boy still alive and figure out a way to speak to him.

There is most definitely a movie in this material, even if it’s mostly recycled afterlife fantasies — a “Sixth Sense” without the scares or big twist, “It’s a Wonderful Life” or “Heart and Soul” without the humor, joy or heartbreak.

Scene after scene drags on past its usefulness. We “get” the tone, and yet are then subjected to 132 minutes immersed in that tone telling about 90 minutes worth of story.

Hell isn’t serenely dull films like “The Parades.” But I’ll bet purgatory is.

Rating: TV-MA, adult themes, suicide

Cast: Masami Nagasawa, Kentarô Sakaguchi, Ryûsei Yokohama, Nana Mori, Shinobu Terajima, Tetsushi Tanaka and Lily Franky.

Credits: Scripted and directed by  Michihito Fujii. A Netflix release.

Running time: 2:12

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Next screening? An immigrant finds a crazy art world outcast   “Problemista” solution

Julio Torres is writer, director and star, Tilda Swinton the eccentric life of the party, Isabella Rossellini and RZA are along for the ride in this March 22 release.

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“Panda” Time

The voices of Jack Black, Awkafina, Ke Huy Quan Viola Davis, Bryan Cranston, Ian McShane, James Hong, Seth Rogen and Dustin Hoffman?

Dim sum pretty big names.

Opens Thursday night, review at noon Eastern on Wednesday.

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Movie Preview: “The Wild Robot” learns animated lessons in nature

This falls’ big Dreamworld animated fantasy is a sci-fi tale about a robot that crash lands on a verdant, wild and people free Earth.

Or a version of it.

A lot of famous voices are in the cast, almost none appear in this very early trailer.

Very strong “Wall E” vibes. But with all those voices cast, that may be misleading.

Looks lovely.

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Documentary Review: The Indigo Girls get their due — again — “It’s Only Life After All”

They’ve been singing and playing together since high school, and that was over 40 years ago. And their most popular period, with hit records and big tours, was the late ’80s.

But there was no getting around the fact that in 2023, Georgia’s fast folk duo Indigo Girls had themselves a moment.

Their exultant late ’80s hit “Closer to Fine” was given a grand showcase, front and center in the biggest movie of the summer, the hit of the year — “Barbie.”

A musical romance based on their tunes, “Glitter & Doom,” delighted the film festival circuit, as did the Sundance documentary-biography, “It’s Only Life After All.”

Now it’s 2024 and those last two films are coming to theaters, a “moment” of added curtain calls and much love for two activist singer/songwriters with some of the most devoted fans in all of music.

“It’s Only Life” lets them tell their story, in detail, and reminds us of what they endured even after they’d “made it,” being dismissed or ignored by the partriarchal rock and pop hierarchy and opinion-makers.

Amy Ray, the animated brunette of the duo and their unofficial archivist and home video and audio collector, thumbs through press clippings in her house and finds “one of the only times we were ever in Rolling Stone,” with the “boys’ misogynist magazine” insisting on photographing Ray and Emily Saliers in white robes, preachers baptising the audience with their music.

Yes, the sexist and probably racist Jann Wenner, publisher of the mag and myopic overlord of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, had the same problem many journalists did — figuring out where to pigeon-hole a self-described “lesbian Christian folk” duo that played loud and sang “earnest” grad student lyrics.

They became, to some, pop culture punchlines for their sexuality — Ray and Saliers have been “out” since the early ’90s — and being “your basic bleeding heart liberals,” outspoken environmental and social justice activists.

But as they pass age 60, this “moment” invites us to remember all they’ve been, why their fanbase is so devoted and the work that they haven’t stopped doing — playing, leading sing-along concerts and often raising funds for a wide range of charities, even during the COVID lockdown.

Filmmaker Alexandria Bombach (“Frame by Frame,” “On Her Shoulders”) dives into Ray’s extensive archives — early ’80s high school cassette rehearsals, photo albums, performance footage from their early Atlanta days — and interviews the “Girls” extensively, between photo shoots and shows — as they talk about their lives, their long history and their focus these days.

Saliers and Ray poke fun at their images and ridicule some of their early work and “overly ardent” stage performances, and their “earnest” singing and songwriting subject matter.

Bombach even has them read a particularly laughable — in a sexist and patronizing way — review they once got from New York Times critic Jon Pareles.

They met when Connecticut-native Saliers moved to Georgia with her theology professor father and librarian mother. They recognized each other as “the other girl with the guitar” in their high school.

Saliers was voted “most talented” at that school. But in her teens she was “an English major nerd” composing tunes like “Play it Again Sam,” riffs on Tennyson’s “Lady of Shallot” lyrical ballad, she remembers, with a laugh.

Ray was younger, “idolized” Saliers, but was “jealous” she confesses — and utterly taken with the mature performer Saliers was becoming and the harmonies they created together when they sang duets.

Each started college at a different school, but both “came home” and transferred to Emory U., where Saliers’ dad taught. That coincidence was a moment of “grace,” to Emily. They renewed their partnership, became Indigo Girls, started packing an Atlanta bar, Little Five Points Community Pub, and got “discovered.”

Anybody who remembers the pop radio of the late ’80s will pick up on the phenomenon that drove their stardom. Often it’s performers who sound nothing like anything else on the radio who break through. Nobody sounded like Indigo Girls.

No, they were “never a couple.” Saliers calls them “opposites” in so many ways, “like a chemical compound that won’t compound.”But on stage, in song, their singing harmonies are sibling-close in pitch, and spine-tingling in many of their most loved tunes.

Each talks about their sexuality, Emily sneaking into the groundbreaking lesbian romance “Personal Best,” the fears of “coming out,” the degrees of acceptance from their families.

And they discuss, with charming frankness, their clashes, “on the spectrum in a lot of ways” battles with substance abuse and discriminatory backlash, the latter being an issue they deal with to this very day.

They never did get to play for the kids at Irmo High School in South Carolina.

Bombach lets each singer’s personality find its natural footing in their group dynamic in the film — assertive, articulate and sometimes temperamental Ray, who does most of the talking, matched with smart, sensitive and expressive Saliers.

We glimpse lots of TV coverage of the band, that first appearance on “Late Night with David Letterman,” the many interviews they sat for over the decades.

And we hear from fans — the photographer who mentions how they “changed my life in college” because he “fell in love to the Indigo Girls,” the legions of Indigo enthusiasts who, almost to a one, insist “The Indigo Girls saved my life!”

Emily Saliers, for one, gets it. “I know what it’s like to have music save you at a particular time.”

One thing the film lacks, perhaps with some reason, is any voice of outside authority singing their praises and noting what makes them “special.” Yes, pop music criticism is still male-dominated and both Indigo Girls are “old” and “not cool,” as they’ll tell you. But having played with folk legend Joan Baez, with Michael Stipe and R.E.M. (fellow Georgians) hiring them as their opening act, and having the likes of Woody Harrelson introduce their shows back in the day, surely somebody outside the two singer/songwriters could add some perspective.

As Amy says early in the film, “I hope it’s about something besides US.

But that “something” turns out to be their activism, their battles against homophobia and injustice, their “community building” work that has energized activist fans.

And that’s enough. Because as the film’s title reminds us, it doesn’t have to be wholly serious, “It’s Only Life After all.” Even the shortcomings in this documentary suggest it’s just another part of a long-overdue “moment” for two most-deserving musicans, still not in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, but “Closer to Fine” than ever.

Rating: unrated, PG-ish

Cast: Amy Ray and Emily Saliers, with Winona LaDuke, others

Credits: Directed by Alexandria Bombach. An Oscilloscope Laboratories release.

Running time: 2:03

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