It’s Bruce Springstone Movie time!

Springsteen? Never hear the name without thinking of this parody.

Hope the movie’s epic.

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Classic Film Review: Steinbeck played by MGM Stars in Brownface — “Tortilla Flat”(1942)

The lightest of heart and most lightly regarded classic John Steinbeck adaptation, “Tortilla Flat” (1942) came by its “underrated comedy” reputation with the passing years.

It’s an ethnic farce by a writer with an eye, ear and empathy for the underclasses.  But Steinbeck wasn’t Latino. And whatever his espoused opinions on “prejudice,” racial stereotypes riddle his fiction.

MGM, which filmed this adaptation with “Gone with the Wind” mainstay Victor Fleming behind the camera, didn’t have many Latin American performers on its payroll, and didn’t reach out to Cesar Romero, Dolores del Rio or Ramon Novarro, or “discover” Fernando Lamas, whose movie career began the same year “Tortilla Flat” was turned into a film.

Watching the film anew, I was struck by all the decades of conflicted reactions to Steinbeck’s depiction of the “paisanos” living on the fringes of Monterey at its fishing town peak could have been avoided had Anthony Quinn been cast in the lead instead of Spencer Tracy in brown face. Quinn was just emerging as a character actor “star,” and he’d have been perfect. PERFECT.

Tracy, who’d played “a Portagee” in “Captains Courageous” and would go on to take the Cuban fisherman title role in “The Old Man and the Sea,” gives a canny and sympathetic performance as the rascal Pilon, a homeless master manipulator and dedicated avoider of hard work in “Tortilla Flat.” But hearing his Spanglish and seeing his face next to the likes of Frank Morgan (“The Wizard of Oz”), Sheldon Leonard (“It’s a Wonderful Life”) and John Ford’s favorite “By yimminy” Norwegian John Qualen in skin-darkening makeup is jarring enough to take you out of the movie.

The characterizations, depicting a community of descendents of the original European settlers to California, and more recent arrivals — Mexican, Central American, and Chinese — teeter on the edge of straight-up stereotypes. There are righteous, hard-working women, good Catholics and the lazy, shiftless unhoused who’d rather siesta, finagle or swipe that next jug of wine than fish or cut bait.

A viewer coming to the film today has to rationalize the fact that the attitudes of the time that made the film were odious, even in liberal Hollywood, and that Steinbeck wrote “Viva Zapata!” and “The Grapes of Wrath” as well as “Of Mice and Men,” which oversimplified disabilities and “East of Eden,” which featured racist characters.

We’re in “Cannery Row” country in “Tortilla Flat,” the hills and woods overlooking Monterey and the sea, and the canneries and fishing boats that employed so many there through the 1940s.

Pilon (Tracy) is the sweet-talking, laid back hustler content to sleep in the open with his flunky Pablo (Akim Tamiroff), always with an eye out for the next bottle of wine or free meal. The kids love Pilon, and the ladies tolerate his sweet-talking charms.

But when they cross paths with a gringo lawyer (Donald Meek of “Stagecoach”), we figure out very quickly that Danny (John Garfield), whom they direct the lawyer to, would be well-advised to steel himself to all the complaints that his “good friends” stir up once they figure out why the lawyer needs to find him.

Danny’s grandfather has died and left him two houses in town. Danny’s in jail, but to a sweet-talker Pilon, that is a mere formality. Soon the jailor (Leonard, later a famous TV producer of “The Andy Griffith Show” and the like) joins Danny and his friends as they visit the properties and Pilon plots a way to throw a party. Trade this for wine, that for groceries, “borrow” this or that, taunt fishermen until they throw mackeral at you, sweetalk the widow next door out of water to clean and cook the mackeral.

“It is strange,” Pilon equivocates to manipulate Danny. “When a man is poor, he thinks to himself, “If I had money, I would share it with my friends.” Then the money comes and his beautiful thoughts fly away. He forgets his friends – who shared things with him when he was poor.”

It’s no wonder Danny and Pablo and jailer Tito (Leonard) and fellow tipplers Jose Maria (Qualen) and Portagee Joe (Allen Jenkins) are easy pawns for Pilon’s schemes.

But the pretty new lass from Salinas (Hedy Lamarr) isn’t fooled by Pilon’s conniving charm, and she’s not moved by Danny’s rough and handsy courting. He’ll have to spend money to impress her, get a job, look like a real prospect.

Pilon’s “She’s a Portagee girl. Portagee girls are no good...They’re They ALWAYS want to get married!” warnings notwithstanding, Danny is smitten.

As he tries to win her affection, Pilon is gathering more and more “friends” for more and more parties, outfoxing his mates as he “rents” one of the inherited houses and ponders the wealth of the village madman, The Pirate (Morgan), who lives with five dogs in an old henhouse on the edge of the woods.

The Pirate collects and sells firewood and never spends a cent. Pilon and his crew greedily consider what it will take to find and steal that stash.

The scheming, thieving and general japery of these rogues is contrasted with their empathy — they scramble to feed a stranger (Tito Renaldo, the rare Latino in the cast) and his motherless infant who are passing through — and their piety. The Pirate is a devout Catholic who has made a promise to St. Francis of Assisi.

Not everyone in this world is “paisano” or “Portagee.” There’s a gringo doctor who ponders how the kids can be so healthy with such fine teeth on a diet of beans and tortillas, and Dolores from Salinas has a white grocer-suitor.

And not everyone in the cast is in brown-face makeup. Garfield and Lamarr don’t wear it, for reasons scriptural (She is Portugeuse) and perhaps contractual. The fact that it probably never occurred to MGM’s leadership to not paint up their payroll and instead cast this picture with culturally appropriate actors hardly seems a defense.

The film’s sentimentality is, like its tone-deafness on race. wholly in step with its time. You can write off the picture, with good reason, for patronizing characterizations and corny attempts at Latin wisdom.

“They say that a little love is like a little wine. Too much of either makes a man sick.”

But the black and white production design, blending backlots, rear-projection of docks and passing boats and painted glass shots of forests, the distant town and the like, is beautifully realized. The performances are shot through with a sweetness that excuses some of the lapses into caricature.

And whatever prejudices Steinbeck was filtering, parroting or trying to see past, there’s no denying this aimless little slice of sentimentalized poverty has its warmth and charm. Tracy is dry and amusing, Lamarr earthy, Garfield his most hotheaded and Morgan sweet and saintly, as we’d hope any addled homeless man who loves dogs might be.

The book isn’t considered part of the canon of modern Latin American literature and Steinbeck, whatever his critical reputation, goes in and out of fashion. So it’s no wonder that “Tortilla Flat” has never been remade with a real Latin cast. It’s too patronizing.

But I’d argue that the 1982 film of “Cannery Row,” which took its setting, sentimentalized poverty and tone from “Tortilla Flat,” didn’t just lean on this earlier “problematic” classic. It sanitized and sanctified its sentimentality and reminded us that we as a people, like the characters in the books and the author himself, have evolved.

Well, some of us, anyway. And that’s reason enough to look back on this classic as the amusing, romanticized and racially-tone deaf snap shot that it was and remains.

Rating: TV-PG

Cast: Spencer Tracy, John Garfield, Hedy Lamarr, John Qualen, Sheldon Leonard and Frank Morgan.

Credits: Directed by Victor Fleming, scripted by John Lee Mahin and Benjamin Glazer, based on the novel by John Steinbeck. An MGM release on Tubi, other streamers.

Running time: 1:45

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Movie Review: Lost Jewelry triggers romance in “The Christmas Ring”

“The Christmas Ring” is a new romance novel adaptation starring “One Tree Hill” alumna Jana Kramer and Benjamin Hollingsworth of the aptly-titled Netflix series “Virgin River.”

It’s a slow, bloodless romance built on “anticipation” because there’s no conflict, little drama or romance and even less mystery about it. Readers and viewers of the genre are meant to buy into the magic of that “first kiss,” and anything that delays that — not matter how cloying or obvious — is part of the charm.

Whatever the merits of the novel, as movie material this script anticipates how early AI will take over production of such writing and screenwriting. It’s so rigidly formulaic as to feel contrived by a machine.

There are musical montages showing people decorating, college coeds baking and adults and kids gingerbread house making, all set to holiday tunes, some sung by Sinatra or Andy Williams.

The virtue signalling begins with the fact that our two leads fated to fall for one another are widowed. None of that messy “divorce” business that creates the vast majority of over-30 singles. She is a regular Bible reader. His elderly father quotes scripture and keeps an oddly acquisitive quote from St. Matthew on his lips, and on a sampler framed on the wall of his shop.

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Virtue signalling in faith-based romance novels can also come camo-colored. One’s an Army Airborne widow. And hr daughter is dating a member of the 101st Airborne about to deploy.

Our leading lady has two besties, one Black and one white.

The plot gimmick is a lost family heirloom, a ruby and diamonds gold ring “found” by our heroine’s great grandfather when — you guessed it — he parachuted into Normandy in 1944.

And the “ticking clock” of it all is a Big Christmas Dance where everything and anything could be resolved in the finale. Will we have to wait until then for True Love’s First Kiss?

Kramer is Vanessa, who lost the aforementioned ring “in the Colorado snow” and figures hunting around Columbus and Marietta, Georgia antiques stores is the way to find it.

Hollingsworth is Ben, who helps run his father’s antiques shop and is there when she comes in poking about for the heirloom with a story behind it. He hears the story and drinks in the woman telling it, and is smitten.

His dad, the shop owner, doesn’t pay attention to the story. He’s played by Kelsey Grammer, who watched and listened to his fellow enunciator extraordinaire David Ogden Stiers’ affected Southern drawl in “Doc Hollywood” and decided to “Foghorn Leghorn it.”

As Vanessa’s daughter (Megan Ashley Brown) rushes home to see her about-to-deployer Ranger, there’s just never a right moment to spring the news to her that she’s met Prince Charming. The script’s lone laugh is this.

“What would you think if I started seeing someone?”

“Like, a therapist?”

There’s a sketchy obsessive (David Considine) determined to track down Vanessa’s ring and collect the reward she’s offered. Will he help or hinder her search for the ring and a true love to wear it for? Will daughter Sadie’s beloved be harmed when he’s sent in harm’s way?

The performances are understated to the point of bland.

Most films that earn the pejorative “Hallmark movie” label share one overriding characteristic. All the rough edges of life, the world the characters inhabit, their livelihoods and challenges, have been rubbed off. “The Christmas Ring” is pabulum that lives by the “Home on the Range” rule, a world “where never is heard a discouraging word.”

So it comes as no surprise that the most famous holiday schmaltz factory for chaste romances — not Netflix, the newer contender, but The Hallmark Channel — already produced a picture titled “The Christmas Ring” five years ago.

But this one is by Karen Kingsbury and coming to a theater near you.

Rating: PG

Cast: Jana Kramer, Benjamin Hollingsworth, Kelsey Grammer, Megan Ashley Brown, Debbie Winans, Jessie James Decker and David Considine.

Credits: Directed by Tyler Russell, scriptedd by Karen Kingsbury and Tyler Russell, based on Kingsbury’s novel. A Fathom Entertainment release.

Running time: 1:43

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Movie Preview: Fleeing a Dictatorship via aid from “The Secret Agent”

1977 Recife, Brazil.

This awards contender (Best International Feature) opens Thanksgiving week in limited release.

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Documentary Preview: A Murphy Love-in? “Being Eddie”

The Oscar-winning editor (“The Social Network”) turned director Angus Wall is behind the camera for this new “Eddie…in his words” documentary.

Lots of fellow comic fans appear to sing his praises and appreciate the shift he represented in films and the culture. Not sensing much in the way of questioning Murphy’s missteps over the decades, controversies, his personal evolution and the reasons he needed a “comeback.”

As he’s not dead like Pee Wee, Candy, Kaufman, et al, we’d hope for a little pushback.


Nov. 12 on Netflix.

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Movie Preview: Edgerton and Jones, Condon and Macy in a lush period piece, “Train Dreams”

Clifton Collins, Jr. joins Joel Edgerton, Felicity Jones, Kerry Condon and William H. Macy for this adaptation of Denis Johnson novella by the director of “Sing Sing.”

It’s an intimate, romantic and dangerous epic about the wonders of the woods in late 19th century lumber country, and it is one of Netflix’s awards bait prestige pictures this fall.

Nov. 7 in theaters, Nov. 21 streaming.

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Movie Preview: One more trailer for James L. Brooks’ Jamie Lee/Woody/Kumail and Emma Mackey feelgood film — “Ella McKay”

Dec. 12.

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Movie Preview: A Big Mistake means a future full of “Reminders of Him”

This romantic weeper is based on a Colleen Hoover (“This Ends with Us”) novel and Maika Monrue and Tyriq Withers star in it, with Lauren Graham and Bradley Whitford.

In theaters March 13.

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Netflixable? “Expert” must Solve a Mystery in under “27 Nights”

The orderlies who have shown up at the posh townhouse have a question.

“Is she aware of what’s happening?”

The two daughters waffle and deflect, with one more certain of the decision than the other. She’s the one who figures the phrase “It’s for your own good, Mom,” should be code for a nurse sedating their mother for the trip to a mental hospital should she give them any trouble.

The old woman, her hair still dyed fiery red, smiles and complies even as she wonders where they’re taking her “at this time of night.” She ponders the earrings her oldest is wearing. Weren’t those mine? She gives the 50ish “kid” such a pinch.

When she’s delivered to her destination, she’s just conscious enough to state her intentions from the gurney she’s strapped to.

“I am not spending a single night in here!”

“27 Nights” of her insisting “I don’t belong here” later, she is home and the courts are involved. The mystery? Does Martha Hoffman, 83 year-old art collector, bon vivant, drinker and partier, have control of her faculties? Does she need to be in care? Or is she just “eccentric?”

Director, writer and co-star Daniel Hendler‘s film is a mystery, a journey of personal growth and a quixotic quest to diagnose what constitutes “eccentric” behavior and what relatives and the courts might consider insane.

Hendler plays the “expert” forensic psychotherapist assigned the job of making that determination about Martha (Marilú Marini), a woman whose daughters Myriam (Carla Peterson) and Olga (Paula Grinzspan) and other experts have decreed is drinking, partying and giving away the family fortune to grifting, leeching artsy types.

There’s a missing Dalí among other objects, an impulsive intent to finance some sort of art center being set up by this sketchy artist’s collective, and a tendency to carry on like a randy, hard-drinking 25 year-old.

Martha resented the internment and is brittle under “interrogation,” resisting methodical plodder Casares, who may be an introvert and easily pushed around, but who is determined to grill her with his signature “questionaire” to get a handle on her sanity.

Martha evades. Martha insults. Martha distracts.

And stumbling into those sketchy-sketchier-and-sketchiest artists and their ringerleader, the flamboyant Girves (Humberto Tortonese), hauling stuff out of Martha’s townhouse, Casares can see the daughters’ point.

But pressure from the judge in charge (Roberto Suárez) to rush through this and sign off on it, mysteriously missing brain scans that the certain-of-his-own-brilliance psychotherapist (Ezequiel Díaz) used to justify her hospitalization and a general concern with “heirlooms” and other matters financial have our “expert” investigator in a quandary.

Add to that Martha’s efforts to bring him out of his shell, ply him with drinks and encourage him to be more sociable — helpful assistant Alejandra (Julieta Zylberberg) gets his attention — and Casares doesn’t know what to think.

Hendler as star makes a dogged “hero,” someone not above having his head turned by every fresh bit of “evidence,” every revelation of this or that “agenda.” Casares is a slave to his beeper (the film is an early ’90s period piece) and beholden to his father, whom he lives with and who has more of a social life than his son ever has.

As a director, Hendler parks us on that teeter-totter with Casares, uncertain who is taking advantage of whom.

The artists collective is a druggy, impoverished lot with a lot of radical ideas about economics.

“Money trickled down to the arts is a drizzle of justice” (in Spanish with English subtitles, or dubbed) would seem to excuse all manner of looting.

The daughters? They seem more worried about the dough-re-mi.

Screen veteran Marini doesn’t make Martha a cute “Harvey” eccentric cliche. She hints that the woman is paranoid. Perhaps she’s aged into someone naive enough to be preyed upon, gotten careless about who she associates with and is gullibly giving it all away. But as Martha she makes us wonder if that’s a reason enough to take away her independence?

The structure of the script — with the “investigation” happening in the fictive present (the film is “inspired by a true story”) and what happened during those “27 Nights” and days discovered in flashbacks — ensures that we invest in the mystery as Casares discovers things that should sway him to one conclusion or the other.

And the finale has a flash of warmth that is surprisingly moving.

It’s slow, but uneven narrative or not, the picture works, and probably better with subtitles (if you don’t speak Spanish) than with the colorless and over-simplified dubbed English language soundtrack.

Rating: TV-MA, drugs, alcohol, profanity

Cast: Marilú Marini, Daniel Hendler, Carla Peterson, Paula Grinzspan, Julieta Zylberberg and
Humberto Tortonese

Credits: Directed by Daniel Hendler, scripted by Daniel Hendler, Mariano Llinás and Martín Mauregui, based on a book by Natalia Zito. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:47

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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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