Movie Nation

Yes, a film buff can get his or her hands on every Bogart, Alan Ladd and John Garfield film noir in an economical amount of time. But it seems like there’s always another Dick Powell outing that you’ve passed-over, missed, or has become hard to track down.

And you want to track down Dick, who was Bogie-tough with William Powell’s sharp-edged patter and way with a one-liner.

In the Andre de Toth thriller “Pitfall,” Powell barks off a half a dozen zingers just in the opening scene, establishing what an “average American” insurance guy/family guy John Forbes is.

His second-grader needs cash for a school fund drive.

“Don’t spend it on a woman!”

John’s wife (Jane Wyatt) needs money for new shoes for the kid.

“What does he DO with his shoes? Eat’em?”

To the kid — “Until my rich uncle dies, stop GROWING!”

“Pitfall” is a shorter, more domestic variation of a “Double Indemnity” theme. Andre de Toth (“Crime Wave,” “House of Wax,””Day of the Outlaw”) never had Billy Wilder’s sophistication or cachet or studio security. “Pitfall” was released by Regal Films, which I’d never heard of before today.

But the movie crackles with sharply-drawn characters, deadly complications and murky motivations, a brisk, brief noir with bite…and Lizabeth Scott.

John Forbes is a recovery officer with Olympic Mutual, someone in need of the services of a “weird” private eye, played by Raymond Burr during his “screen heavies” period. Mack has tracked down the woman a jailed embezzler was stealing for — “quite a girl,” a looker, and as it turns out, a model.

But “finding” her is all the P.I. has to do, even though he tried to figure out where the money went. This is where Forbes comes in. And even though he doesn’t let on, Mister Married “Old Man of Routine” is smitten by this seeming innocent who had the bad luck to fall for a guy whose only means of spoiling her was stealing.

A leopard skin coat, an engagement ring, but will Forbes insist on seizing the weathered runabout motorboat she just repainted, too?

If she playing him? Is he ripe to be played? He seems awfully settled, even if he’s griped to his wife how unsettling that is. Mona flirts and judges him and he’s not happy with that.

“I’d shoot myself if I thought I was turning into the kind of guy you describe.”

“I have a gun,” she mentions, helpfully.

The script, adapted from a paperback potboiler, sets up the jealous jailbird (Byron Barr), the delusional stalker (Burr) and the “family man” who doesn’t let on that he is for reasons Mona might easily guess, if she’s noticed his ring. If she cares. If she’s looked in the mirror lately.

There are beat-downs and shootouts and “We can’t go to the police,” a plot that resembles “Double Indemnity,” without the acid-stained prose or body heat.

But Powell is a movie star in his element here, with de Toth parking him in lots of LA and Marina del Ray late ’40s locations for him to navigate, by land or by sea, chasing after the life he didn’t choose with the looker who might not offer the comforts of home. But then, femme fatales, if that’s who Mona is, never do.

Rating: “approved,” violence

Cast: Dick Powell, Lizabeth Scott, Jane Wyatt, Byron Barr and Raymond Burr.

Credits: Directed by Andre de Toth, scripted by Karl Kamb, based on a novel by Jay Dratler. A Regal Films release.

Running time: 1:25

Two-time Oscar winner, former member of Parliament, grande dame of the stage, the small screen and the big one, Glenda Jackson was one of a kind.

She lived 87 years, most of them bathed in glory.

Tough, flinty, a British Hepburn only less patrician with more middle class roots, adept at dramas, romances and boundary-pushing cinema of the daring ’70s — “Women in Love” — and loopy laughers like “A Touch of Class.”

She also made a helluva funny sparring partner for Walter Matthau in two pretty funny films of the ’80s, “Hopscotch” and “House Calls.”

And she still has one more movie “in the can,” as they say. Well done.

The journey isn’t epic, and it doesn’t cover a great distance — emotionally or geographically.

But Mikhaël Hers’ latest film, set entirely in the XVth arrondisement of Paris and taking place over just under ten years, shows us the little details, small-scale tragedies and minor triumphs of a woman, her children and a homeless girl they take in, all of them thrown together as “The Passengers of the Night.”

Charlotte Gainsbourg is Elisabeth, 40something and her kids in the car with her, giddy at the sight of the street celebrations that accompanied the election of a Socialist president in 1981. It is a high moment and but the prologue of a story with a lot of ups and downs to it as she and her family pass through the decade.

By 1984, she is weeping at the news that her husband has moved in with his girlfriend, leaving her with teenager Matthias (Quito Rayon Richter) and college-age Judith (Megan Northam) and a high rise Beaugrenelle apartment that she can’t afford without going to work. Her ex won’t even support his kids.

The fact that “you’ve never worked” shouldn’t hold her back, her father (Didier Sandre) insists. Any job that “requires common sense and sensitivity” (in French with English subtitles) would be lucky to have her.

Elisabeth despairs of finding anything until her desperate letter to the hostess of her favorite late-night radio show, Vanda (Emmanuelle Béart) gets her an interview and a job as a call screener.

In the world of night owls, confessional callers and empty streets, the insomniac Elisabeth finds a home.

Meanwhile, the witty, writerly Matthias is failing at school, more interested in girl-watching than buckling down. Judith is making protesting a full-time job. And a drug-abusing street urchin (Noée Abita) brought in as an anonymous, “tell me nothing but truths” interview subject on the radio show taps into Elisabeth’s empathy and she takes her in.

Talulah, as she calls herself, will change lives and have her own changed, but mostly in tiny, incremental ways as she drifts in and out of lives and Elisabeth struggles to get out of the funk a divorce and the rejection that comes with it entails.

The dramatic touches here are simple and real-world relatable. We see — early on — that Elisabeth is a breast cancer survivor. Gainsbourg, a French actress with a resting depressed face, wholly inhabits Elisabeth’s self-loathing plight, her journey and the impulses — good and bad — that guide her out of it.

Matthias begins the tale as a 16 year-old almost too shy to flirt. But he throws over anything that might develop with a cute classmate to fall deep into a crush on Talulah, who shows the siblings “the streets” and the easiest way to sneak into a cinema.

Sure, you may want to see Matthew Modine and Nicolas Cage in “Birdy.” But “Full Moon in Paris” will have to do. Street urchins can’t be choosie.

Talulah is troubled, and her connection to Matthias has its dangers. They end up in the River Seine at one point. But even this melodramatic moment plays as a slice of the life-that-happens-to-you while you’re wondering what to do about your addictions or how to express yourself to your first love or trying to figure out how one becomes a writer in Paris.

The story isn’t the most arresting, with Elisabeth’s journey from call-screener to part-time librarian and fill-in on-air hostess mere background to the family life/love life/”real” life outside of work that Hers (“Amanda” and “This Summer Feeling” were his) is capturing here.

The late night radio milieu is arresting, but barely in the film. Judith, the ever-protesting “leftist” daughter, is one character whose story is given short shrift. I generally like movies that give us more to grab hold of than intimate, myopic melodramas like this offer.

But Hers and his leading lady highight the minor miracles, little kindnesses and “we’re all in this together” idealism of the film’s socialist era and make the idea of traveling as “The Passengers of the Night” inviting, if never quite exciting or intoxicating.

Rating: unrated, sex, nudity, alcohol abuse, smoking

Cast: Charlotte Gainsbourg, Quito Rayon Richter, Noée Abita, Megan Northam and Emmanuelle Béart.

Credits: Directed by Mikhael Hers, scripted by Maud Ameline, Mariette Désert and Mikhael Hers. A KimStim release.

Running time: 1:52

Reviews out of Cannes weren’t enthusiastic, no surprise given the age of the franchise and the advanced years of its Man of Action leading man.

But this trailer is the one that sells it for me and gives me some hope that the delightful Phoebe Waller Bridge, villainous Mads and new director Mangold deliver the goods.

It opens June 30, but tonight I see for myself whether the early buzz is accurate.

A little one-eyed boy whose Mom works with…NORAD? The first guy you think of when aliens say, “Bring us your LEADER.”

Trying to build a lockdown drama around “What we learned” during the Pandemic — about outselves, our racial divide, our “privilege” and our empathy — would be a daunting task for anybody.

As yet, virtually no one’s quite gotten their arms all the way around it. “The Same Storm” came the closest, a film by one of our most’s empathetic filmmakers, Peter Hedges.

So there’s no shame in trying and failing. But Daniel Holland’s “Moon Students” opens its arms wider and wider…and trips, stumbles and exasperates as it does.

A bitter college professor (Nicholas Thurkettle) takes out his utterly-exhausted patience on two disorganized, unprepared students who botch their presentation on what turns out to be the last day of classes at L.A. Coastal College before COVID shuts the school down.

Ethan Cole dismisses Lita (Sydney Carvill) and Antonio (Eddie Navaro) with extreme prejudice. Antonio doesn’t take it well, and seems to go all punk on Cole’s “My first name is either Mister or Professor” attitude

A dean (Rachanee Lumayno) tries to make peace. As an assault was involved, the fact that she doesn’t toss the kid and/or call the cops says something.

Antonio is encouraged to drop out, the struggling professor teaches the remaining students remotely, and Antonio’s relationship with Lita deteriorates as he drinks and breaks quarantine, drives them to San Diego to “hang with my homies” and basically makes us wonder what Lita sees in him.

It’s a movie of long and somewhat inane monologues, starting with the bookish pal D’Andre’s (B.A. Tobin) San Diego soliloquy mashing up “Hamlet” with Lennie from “Of Mice and Men.”

Professor Cole’s obsession with the near-run thing that was the Apollo 11 Moon landing is his anaology for what he’s hoping for from his students, “American exceptionalism” of a sort, overcoming long odds to achieve greatness.

We’re a long way from that peak moment, the movie suggests. And maybe the white folks who mythologize should get a clue.

Lita is of the opinion that students’ struggle and back-stories are worth considering in how you treat them. What really happened in that office that last day of class?

Everybody deals with loss, before and during COVID. And everybody’s kind of asking for “one true thing” out of their human connections.

“Moon Students” has a couple of nice locations and a few theatrical scenes and moments in scenes. It’s collected awards from some lesser known festivals.

The players don’t embarrass themselves, but don’t really move us when they’re supposed to. The script? Kind of a collage of impressions and feelings about America at its peak — July, 1969 — and during the pandemic and after.

I found it pretentious in those moments where it wasn’t subjecting the viewer to some banality being passed off as insight, or some racial epiphany about John Sayles’ labor movement classic film, “Matewan,” with one of them mispronouncing the title.

These “Moon Students” missed their Moon shot, and not by a little. By a lot.

Rating: unrated, alcohol abuse, some profanity

Cast: Sydney Carvill, Nicholas Thurkettle, Eddie Navarro, Nicholas Heard, Rachanee Lumayno and B.A. Tobin

Credits: Scripted and directed by Daniel Holland. A Gravitas Ventures release.

Running time: 1:49

Kim Seon-Ho stars in this Park Hoon-Jung action pic from KPop Land

June 30 is when we see it in theaters.

Cage at his Cagiest, a “Collateral” plot, a July 28 release.

It’s not just the title that makes “One Night Stand” the raciest, most sexual Indonesian film to ever make it to Netflix.

It opens with a fevered road-side in-the-car hook-up — in broad daylight on the access road to an airport, no less — and ends with a bit of a bender that climaxes in the clenches.

But this being conservative Indonesia, it still earns a TV-14 rating — no nudity, nothing graphic and no profane come-ons or pillow talk.

Don’t let that smiley/flirty photograph posted above fool you. This is from late in the third act of what might be the slowest movie since that holiday favorite, the Yule Log-on-fire video.

The moment “they” meet inertia sets in. Ra (Jourdy Pranata), whom we’ve seen in the throes in that sex-before-flying prologue set one year earlier (?) has just landed in Yogyakarta for the funeral of his mentor’s wife. Lea (Putri Marino) was sent to pick him up.

And as the fetching assistant and the hunky young painter walk and talk through the airport at one third the normal speed, one first gets the feeling one is watching paint dry. In the humid, forever-to-dry tropics, no less. It’s as if the camera operator had a bum leg, or nobody involved wanted to leave the air conditioned indoors. SLOW walking.

There’s a lot of walking and talking and driving and talking in this film, with these two cute but dull characters sizing each other up and Ra not very coy about dodging the calls from some other woman back home. Was she the hook-up at the airport the year before? I think that’s implied, but their brief phone chats give NO clues, and do nothing to spice up the plot, or advance it.

He’s plainly interested in Lea, and after the funeral, makes his play. Would she accompany him to the wedding of an old friend?

The sole Around the World with Netflix value in this Adriyanto Dewo film — in Indonesian with subtitles — is in its depictions of Indonesian funeral rites and wedding traditions.

Agreeing to accompany a guy she just met doesn’t mean Lea won’t be subject to immersion in wedding prep rituals — made-up, hair-done and loaned a dress and welcomed as a member of the wedding party, even as a stranger.

It’s only after these two tentative, fairly tedious people get drunk on the beach that they “get real,” as the kids used to say. And get busy. But even that’s pretty tame.

Tedium itself, this “romance” has little point, and takes an absurd amount of slow-walking time getting to it.

Rating: TV-14, sex, drinking

Cast: Jourdy Pranata, Putri Marino

Credits: Scripted and directed by Adriyanto Dewo. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:20

“Anonymous Sister” is one filmmaker’s effort to tell the story of America’s “man-made”/Purdue Pharma engineered opioid epidemic simply by the impact on her family.

Writer-director Jamie Boyle tells the story of growing up during the birth of the opioid crisis and how it almost consumed her sister and her mother and the toll that took on a tightnit group, a toll that they’re still feeling today.

Boyle profiles and interviews her sister Jordan, siblings so tight that Jordan describes younger sister Jamie as “the other piece of my heart” pretty from birth. She intereviews her mother Julie and details their lives before, during and after her and Jordan’s addiction to Oxycontin, Vicadin and the opium-based pain pills America’s doctors were mad to prescribe from the ’90s to very recently.

She interviews other addicts, a Purdue Pharma rep, and a doctor who is one of the leading experts on this “epidemic,” its cause and its effects. She uses archival news coverage, old home movies and the years of family video about this struggle, including snippets from a student film about her mother and sister, to paint a personal portrait of a national tragedy created by marketing so pervasive it changed our notion of “pain tolerance” and “pain management” to suit the needs of Purdue and the Sackler family that controls it.

The film is both touching and infuriating as Boyle shows us as direct a cause-and-effect in an addiction case as any documentary ever.

Home movies capture pre-school Jamie begging her dad to let her do the video recording, the girls’ early fascination with figure skating after seeing Kristi Yamaguchi win Olympic gold in 1996, and Jordan’s body-and-soul commitment to the sport, with her parents detailing the staggering cost of training, equipping and supporting her. Mother Julie took on a cleaning job just to cover that.

Driven and perhaps guilt-ridden over the cost of her obsession, Jordan skates until she gets nerve damage in her feet. That pain leads her down the road to Oxy, in ever-growing doses.

“I will never be able to stop this,” Jordan recalls thinking as her elevated, “happy” state set in. The drug made her “so much better at my life.” What could be the harm?

Her mother travels her own chronic pain to Oxy/Vicadin path. And her husband and especially Jamie are witnesses to and eventual interveners in a years-unfolding family disaster brought on by drugs whose maker insisted were “not addictive.”

Julie Boyle notes that the “drugs alter your reality,” that “it didn’t feel like a ‘high.’ I’ve been high.”

This was an expensive, destructive new “normal” that grew more dangerous as tolerances built up and higher doses were required.

“Anonymous Sister” recounts the Oxy scandal that blew up just as the Bush Recession set in, and how little changed despite the admissions of lying, manipulation of public opinion and government complicity in this lax oversight of “prescription heroin.”

The Boyles are straight-up middle-class suburbanites, so there’s no “Hillbilly Heroin” labeling as “something poor fall into” here. This could happen to just about anybody.

The inclusion of extensive home movies and deep-embedded background that Jamie Boyle’s direct witnessing of all this lends “Anonymous Sister” an authenticity and personal investment that few films on this subject could match.

And the presence of experts and decades of news coverage — first hailing this “breakthrough” on “pain,” then decrying the rampant profiteering that turned whole states into mass-death Oxy Zones, the greed and cynicism that that made the Sacklers rich and almost consequence free — make one hope that “Anonymous Sister” will not simply be lost in a video market flooded with documentaries.

It should play on cable news network as a first person account of a major story, and programming that’s a lot less embarassing and repetitive than the standard fare on most of those services.

Are you listening, CNN?

Rating: drug abuse subject matter, some profanity

Cast: Jordan Boyle, Jamie Boyle, Julie Boyle, John Boyle and Dr. Andrew Kolodny

Credits: Directed by Jamie Boyle. A Long Shot Factory release.

Running time: 1:33