Movie Review: A Dark Night of “La Dolce Vita” — “Finally Dawn”

Federico Fellini cast a jaded, bemused eye on the postwar Italian decadence and indulgence with “La Dolce Vita,” a cinema classic about a generation just removed from decades of fascism and war partying, reveling in paparazzo-pursued celebrity and an internationally celebrated film industry.

Marcello Mastroianni played our tour guide, a seen-it-all journalist reduced to chasing and documenting the whims of shallow celebrities for a culture that couldn’t get enough of that piffle.

Modern Italian filmmaker Saverio Costanzo looks back on that era and casts events and attitudes in a more sinister light with “Finally Dawn,” about a starstruck young woman who samples early ’60s “la dolce vita” (the good life) when she’s cast as an extra in an American film production at the famed Cinecittà film studios.

Mimosa may be the “plain” sister, just tagging along to see that nothing untoward happens to her prettier, talent-scouted sibling Iris. But she’s the one plucked from auditions to play a “featured extra” hand maiden to an Egyptian queen, portrayed by American screen siren Josephine Esperanto.

As a day on the set spins into a night on the town with the star-who’s-taken-an-interest-in-her and her entourage, wide-eyed Mimosa (Rebecca Antonaci), trapped in a whirl of rich and perhaps depraved sophisticates, starts to fear for her safety and wonder if her fate is tied to another extra on that same film, an aspiring actress who turned up dead in the surf of a seaside Roman beach.

Where Fellini found bubbly cynicism, Costanzo hints at rape, drugs and murder. And in trying to turn suggestions of a thriller into “art,” he makes aesthetic choices that drown his melodrama in dullness.

A dour, sentimental black and white prologue sets the tone. It’s a downbeat war movie Mimosa, sister Iris (Sofia Panizzi) and their mother (Carmen Pommella) are catching on a Sunday afternoon at the cinema. “The Sacrifice” builds tension by showing us a mother and child hiding from a murderous German on the day of Rome’s liberation, a scene that unfolds ever-so-slowly and suspensefully. Shots are held well past their payoff.

And that “slow,” almost agonizing wait for a “cut” and moving on to the next scene becomes the editing strategy of not just the overlong sample of a film-within-a-film. It tediously takes over “Finally Dawn,” and rarely pays off as it does.

Brit star Lily James (“Yesterday”) plays Josephine, the regal star of this “swords and sandals” epic. But as we watch her on the one excruciating long take in which the champion from a foreign empire (Joe Keery) bests her hulking proto-gladiator and wins the right to her young stepdaughter (Rachel Sennott), we pick up something from Josephine’s stillness and her extravagantly coiffed and made-up scowl.

Josephine’s an entitled movie star, but a bad actress. Her performance brings to mind Elisabeth Shue’s orders in “Palmetto.” Being told to play someone bad at acting in a movie that’s not a comedy almost never comes off.

Mimosa makes eye contact with the star during that long take fight and negotiation. And as she tries to find her “just another extra” sister and locate their mother, supposedly waiting for them, as she shyly tries to avoid changing out of her costume in front of other women, a fancy dress and shoes are delivered to her. From Josephine.

When she finally exits the nearly empty hundred acre studio lot, who picks her up to take her home but Josephine, co-star Sean (Keery) and Josephine’s “one friend in all of Rome,” the art dealer Rufus (Willem Dafoe). But they’ve got a stop or two to make on the way.

Dinner devolves into “Let’s go dancing” which takes them to a hedonistic party where rare “snow from Bolivia” (cocaine) is sampled. Even though she doesn’t speak English, Mimosa picks up on Josephine’s reputation — insecure, on her third divorce and “completely crazy,” the crew assures her. The star’s conversation gives away pretension covering for vapidity.

Films like the lavish spectacle she’s starring in can be classics. And “If it’s classic, it’s not old. It’s eternal.”

But what’s her interest in Mimosa, whom she takes to calling “Sandy” and passing off as “a Swedish poetess” to her fellow revelers?

“You’re her passtime tonight.”

Warning Mimosa to “keep your guard up” seems unnecessary. We’ve watched her wander the vast backlot, with sets and soundstages and other productions and film folk gathered in a screening room to watch a newsreel about the murdered actress-wannabe Wilma, who died while working on this very film.

No film buff could mind Costanzo (“Hungry Friend” was his) taking his time leading Mimosa past the hustlers and callous casting combo that they procure would-be-starlets for, through the teeming backlot at Cinecittà. What we can dismiss is his confusion of slow long takes for art.

This isn’t “I Am Love” and he isn’t Luca Guadagnino. Sometimes “slow” is just your movie telling you that whacking twenty minutes culled from the end of every take that goes on too long wouldn’t be a bad idea.

The picture is pretty, but hardly lavish or lovely.

Antonaci is properly wide-eyed and guileless, Sennott her usual intimidating self and Dafoe deftly manages the charm that might be a mask for something uglier for his character.

James? She’s moved on, no doubt wisened to be wary of any filmmaker who sees her as a femme fatale, and asks her to be a bad actress in playing her.

Rating: TV 18+. drug abuse, sexual situations

Cast: Lily James, Rebecca Antonaci, Joe Keery, Willem Dafoe,
Sofia Panizzi, Alba Rohrwacher and Rachel Sennott

Credits: Scripted and directed by Saverio Costanzo. A Samuel Goldwyn release on Amazon.

Running time: 2:00

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Movie Review: Cryptic Creepiness in Cymru (Wales) — “Rabbit Trap”

Existential musings about the nature of sound, past trauma and childlessness occupy the lovely headspace of “Rabbit Trap,” a quiet and obscurant folk horror tale set in 1970s Wales.

Dev Patel and Rosy McEwen (“The Alienist”) co-star as a couple who’ve retreated to a remote, bog, forest and stone corner of the Welsh countryside. They’ve filled their house with sound gear, from reel to reel recorders to oscillators, oscilloscopes and even a theremin.

Daphne is a musical fringe figure, an electronic music experimenter who has stopped touring to find new soundscapes to decorate her next album. Darcy is a sound designer, wandering the woods with a portable reel-to-reel deck, directional shotgun microphone and bulky Koss headphones to record everything from wind and birds to sheep.

He’s having nightmares, which she sometimes records. She’s having a touch of writer’s block.

And then Darcy chases down this odd local who seems to be spying on them. He apologizes repeatedly to a boy (played by actress Jade Croot) who asks a lot of pointed questions and never answers theirs. Like, what’s your name?

The kid is deep into Welsh folklore, talking about “the widows of the woods” (ancient moss-covered tree stumps), enchanted springs and holloww, assorted spirits and sprites and the “veil between this world and faeirie.”

The boy wants to know “what happens when a sound dies?” And nightmares or not, Darcy has an answer.

“When you hear a sound, you become its home.”

The kid, a self-described “hunter,” can be quippably cryptic, too.

“If you catch a rabbit, you catch the message it’s carrying.”

There are references to faeries as “a forgotten child,” as the kid’s attentions turn troubling and even scary.

Is this a demon in gender dysphoric form, a woodland sprite guarding the land or the child they might have had or might have? Are these interlopers in the Welsh hinterlands unwelcome or in danger?

Let’s just leave those many questions hanging there, because that’s what writer-director Bryn Chainey does with his debut feature. “Obscurant” as a descriptor is rarely a compliment.

But the stars and a startling number of producers (Elijah Wood among them) signed on to “Rabbit Trap,” with its daddy issues Slenderman nightmare images and vaguely menacing mystery “kid.” They saw something in the material on the scripted page.

The tone and atmosphere are immersive and decidedly analog, and the whole nature of “sound” thing makes an interesting metaphysical text or subtext.

But “Rabbit Trap” is like that rabbit the stranger caught for the couple. Darcy, like most of us, doesn’t know how to skin it. Neither, apparently, did Chainey.

Rating: unrated, violence

Cast: Dev Patel, Rosy McEwen and Jade Croot.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Bryn Chainey. A Magnet/Magnolia release.

Running time: 1:28

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Movie Preview: Jack Black, Paul Rudd, Thandiwe Newton and Steve Zahn — “Let’s reboot ‘Anaconda'”

Here’s a comic lark of a lark, alleged adults remaking “a movie we loved when we were kids.”

A remake about making a remake. A Christmas comedy of the “What could go wrong?” variety.

Love that cast. But…snakes?

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Movie Preview: Sweeney is “The Housemaid” to Seyfried — Scary

A job that’s a dangerous exposure to a family’s ugly secrets is the premise of this Dec. 19 release.

That Sydney Sweeney is the hardest working woman in show business. She almost managed a movie a month this year. Pairing her up/squaring her off with 2008’s version of Sydney Sweeney “It” girl Seyfried is inspired.

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Netflixable? Looking for Love via a Rich Bachelor in “The Wrong Paris”

As obvious as its title and as sexy as an all-gals bull-riding contest, “The Wrong Paris” is a Netflix romance novel of a movie whose creators don’t dishonor The Hallmark Channel Oath.

Keep it cute, keep it clean and make it watchable.

It’s a bon bon, a Hallmawkish wish fulfillment fantasy that riffs on the “reality” of reality TV. And it makes a fine star vehicle for “School of Rock” alumna Miranda Cosgrove, years removed from her child star days (“iCarly”) but still a pixie, still making media about making media.

She stars here as a plucky Texas metal sculptress who is accepted at a Paris art school, but who has to go on “Bachelor” style reality TV dating show (“The Honey Pot?”) to “earn” the cash for tuition, living expenses, berets and baguettes and what not.

Dawn’s younger sisters (Emilijia Baranac and Ava Bianchi) tip her off about the Dallas auditions. The show is promising to take contestants to Paris this season! You don’t have to win, place or “show.” All you have to do is get picked for the cast of 20 young women, collect that consolation check and you’ll already be in France!

At the video interview/audition, it’s obvious that show runner Rachel (Yvonne Orji of “Insecure”) is rooting for the plucky waitress with dreams of an art “career.” That gets in her over the bored objections of ratings-panicked producer Carl (Torrance Coombs).

Next thing Dawn knows, she’s on a plane with a brand-ambassador/influencer, an Orlando princess looking for her prince, a baby-mama in waiting, scientist, Tomgirl and assorted other “types,” sipping champagne and cooing “Ooo la la” on a chartered jet for Paris.

Kids these days. They don’t know their classic cinema. The German filmmaker Wim Wenders made a famous America film about “Paris, Texas.” Hell, Dawn grew up just down the road from it. She didn’t smell this switcheroo thanks to the Dallas auditions?

Dawn’s Montmartre dream becomes her nightmare of getting “stuck where I grew up.”

She’s furious, and who wouldn’t be? A LOT of Texas is like Paris, Texas — flat, dry and dull, aside from the local “characters.” I mean, the Wenders film was made ironically, after all.

Dawn meeting the rich ranch heir Trey McAllen III (Pierson Fode of “Swiped”) they’re “competing” for and seeing it’s the same handsome hunk that hit on her at the honky tonk the other night doesn’t lessen her fury. But she’s got a contract. She can’t get paid until she’s not selected for a “silver spur” as Trey thins the cast.

There’s nothing for it but to do the axe throwing, the haystack maze, the bull-riding and what not, trying to get the oft-shirtless Trey’s attention.

Orji, a fiesty Madison Pettis as the mean-girl “brand ambassador” with a huge social media following and a couple of other contestants make impressions.

There are chuckles but no hearty laughs in the assorted girlfight shenanigans and forced cornpone in Nicole Henrich’s low-hanging-fruit rom-com script.

“I like to two-step with a woman before I waltz with her.”

And Cosgrove and Fode kind of click in that pre-ordained rom-com way. She’s good at plucky and he’s been hitting the gym…a lot.

It’s all harmless enough even if it’s about as Paris, Texas as it is Paris, France. Yeah, they filmed it in Vancouver.

Rating: TV-14

Cast: Miranda Cosgrove, Pierson Fode, Yvonne Orji, Madison Pettis, Christin Park, Madeleine Arthur, Naika Toussaint, Veronica Long and Frances Fisher.

Credits: Directed by Janeen Damian, scripted by Nicole Henrich. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:45

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Movie Review: Can Orlando Bloom “Make Weight” for his Comeback Fight? “The Cut”

Just when you think there’s nothing new that can be done with “The Big Fight” picture, “The Cut” comes along and finds all its drama in the preliminaries.

The latest film from the director of “Anthropoid” is a fascinating exercise in reinvention and minimalism. It’s about boxing, and there’s a fight in the brief opening scene and some sparring sessions are featured. But this movie set against that deadly, gladiatorial and CTE-inducing sport is about something almost as hellish as getting your brains beaten in by an opponent in the ring.

Almost the entire picture is about a washed-up fighter struggling to “make weight” so that he fight the Light Middleweight (or Super Welterweight) champ and change his destiny. It’s just a few days in Vegas, in a gym or a hotel room or toilet — sweating, extreme dieting, pill-popping and inducing vomiting — trying to drop almost thirty pounds in under a week so that he’ll be allowed the shot at that “comeback.”

Orlando Bloom plays our unnamed Northern Irish boxer. He had a bit of a breakdown in the ring ten years before, “prematurely” ending his career. Now he and his corner-woman Caitlyn (Caitriona Balfe) run a gym, teaching boxing to little girls and boys and making a life together.

But the leading contender just got himself messed up in a stunt-brawl with a Youtube boxer. With a huge fight pre-sold and set for the following week in Vegas, the promoter (Gary Beadle) is desperate. But it was the Irish boxer who called him, not the other way around.

“People like ‘a comeback story,'” Donny the promoter shrugs. Making the cut-off weight to qualify for the fight is “just a formality,” the fighter and his trainer-partner are assured. Yes, the fighter’s in shape. But he’s got a middle-aged spread, or just a hint of one. And he weighs over 180 pounds.

The cut-off for light middleweight? One hundred and fifty-four pounds.

“Just a formality” or not, Caitlyn pitches in, and they bring in a nutritionist and an extra trainer (Ed Kear) once they land in Vegas. But eating a couple of bits of carrot and an aspargus stalk or three and a severely limited diet of “fat, protein and water” isn’t going to drop almost 30 pounds in six days.

The promoter tells them they need The Boz. But that extreme step, they’re warned, means “TOTAL commitment.” Because this guy (John Turturro) is unscrupulous, heartless and maybe a tad mad.

“Your team, their problem is they CARE about you too much,” Boz purrs to them when they meet.

The Boz? He doesn’t give a you-know-what about their fighter’s health or even his life. The boxer’s haunted past, flashbacks to a childhood in Northern Ireland where mum (Clare Dunne, excellent) was a sex worker and “The Troubles” were ongoing?

Your past, Boz hisses to him, “is the extra weight” he has to lose.

“The Cut” doesn’t hit its stride until it’s just Turturro and Bloom, with Boz client and Boz True Believer Lupe (Mohammed Mansaray) along for extra motivation as a more deranged “make weight” partner in a hotel room, in the gym, in the sauna and in the tub urging himself, Boz and the Boxer into the realm of the extreme.

The Boxer’s issues aren’t cured by this intense environment as he hallucinates more and more memories of the trauma of his youth. The partner/trainer’s back-story — “The gym is what’s kept me clean!” — is under-developed, the opponent is barely mentioned.

What matters here is the body horror show that Boz has in store for them and us, and Turturro makes damned sure he delivers.

He is uncompromising and utterly callous about long-term effects, the health of a fighter or whether he might put him in the hospital. He is sexist. “We don’t have TIME for hysteria, sweetie. Your soft touch doesn’t apply.”

He is a motivational speaker, a seriously twisted life coach and a sadist. “COMMIT.” Go “All IN.” “Full throttle, full SWEAT” never seemed so scary.

As time winds down and the desperation grows, something or someone in this sweatbox trio is going to give. And not just blood, drawn intraveously “just to lighten you up a little bit.”

Turturro is great and Bloom is pretty damned committed, even if he isn’t the most convincing boxer you ever saw. The man was “cut” coming in, and he lost serious weight (over 50 pounds, if you believe the hype) to get an authentically gaunt look.

The suspense rises steadily with Boz’s blood pressure. The boxer’s vital signs? He’s barely able to stay upright.

The compactness of Justin Bull’s script is an asset, and anybody who’s ever tried to drop a couple of pounds to get into an old suit, last year’s shorts or a wedding dress can empathize with this dilemma and its degree of difficulty, even when you take things to the medical and life-threatening extreme.

But the preliminaries — brisk as they are — need to be raced through or skimmed over. The meat of the movie is basically a play, just three guys in a couple of settings, frantically trying to change their lives and life trajectories by losing as much weight as possible in an insanely short period of time.

Perhaps little more workshopping this script was in order, because the three main characters put on their own three act play in the film’s latter half. Everything that delays packing us in that pressure cooker with them undercuts the most novel version of “a boxing picture” that most of us have ever seen.

Rating: R, violence, drug abuse, nudity, “sexual content” and profanity

Cast: Orlando Bloom, John Turturro,
Caitríona Balfe, Mohammed Mansaray, Clare Dunne, Ed Kear and Gary Beadle.

Credits: Dirrected by Sean Ellis, scripted by Justin Bull. An Altitude/Republic Pictures release.

Running time: 1:36

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Robert Redford: 1936-2025

Hard as it might be to believe, there is such a thing as being too “classically handsome” or just entirely too good looking when you’re a movie star.

Don’t ask Warren Beatty, whose ambition and range were obvious and whose connection with the zeitgeist could be uncanny.

But ask Cary Grant. Or Paul Newman. Or Brad Pitt. Or Robert Redford, who passed away today at 89.

A chronically underrated icon, THE leading man of his era — just after Newman and McQueen and Poitier, just before Denzel and Pitt — it took a lot of doing to get critics to take Redford seriously and for The Academy to not punish him for being the complete package — too damned tanned, rugged and WASPy beautiful for his own good.

I mean, awarding Beatty was enough, right?

But Redford dazzled in action, in comedies and action comedies, held the center in epics that wouldn’t have passed muster without his presence and made a handful of the most enduring films in American cinema history.

Tick off a list of your own favorites and weigh them against the Oscar winners the year they came out. We’re still watching “The Sting” (an Oscar winner, just not for Redford), “Downhill Racer,” “The Candidate,” “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” “Jeremiah Johnson,” “The Electric Horseman” and “All the President’s Men.”

“Three Days of the Condor” holds up, his “The Great Gatsby” is still viewed by kids looking for shortcuts in a book report. And “A Walk in the Woods” amused, his last fun “buddy” picture with Old Man Nick Nolte, who outlives him.

We should be watching “The Hot Rock” –still a hoot — and “All is Lost,” not his final performance, but one of his finest. He still brought that twinkle that could take your breath away in the charming “The Old Man & the Gun.”

Fans embraced the former high school baseball star as “The Natural” and “The Way We Were” was the most celebrated romantic schmaltz of its day. “Out of Africa” to “Sneakers,” “Brubaker,” in his prime — which lasted decades — his movies were events.

He directed with skill and “actor’s director” care on prestige pictures such as “Quiz Show,” making his debut behind the camera with “Ordinary People,” which finally earned him Oscar recognition — behind the camera.

He was the voice of The West in “A River Runs Through It.” He founded The Sundance Film Festival and helped launch the independent cinema movement.

I interviewed him a few times over the years and found him disarming and even amusing, a Hollywood Man in Full, so comfortable in his status and his own skin that he was among the first Big Names to move away from Hollywood to keep his focus, his sanity and his mystique.

Newman was his great role model.

A Santa Monica native who wound up in New York studying acting, and landing roles first on TV, he turned his big breaks (“Inside Daisy Clover,” “This Property is Condemned,” “Barefoot in the Park”) into status.

Redford’s move to Utah pushed his environmentalism into the spotlight, a passion that, like his politics, he wore on his sleeve and was hated by the hateful for it. The few late movies that leaned into those politics — “Truth” and “The Company You Keep” — were interesting failures.

Recent generations have rediscovered him, zeroing in on his turn as “Jeremiah Johnson” as if they discovering an overlooked Grand Master, which he kind of was.

Redford laughed and laughed about lying his way into the role of a solo sailor who faces disaster in “All is Lost.” At 77, he didn’t really have an idea of what he was getting himself into. Director J.C. Chandor had the last laugh on that “test,” which is riveting and “real” thanks to Redford’s commitment.

But another awards’ season passed without the acting recognition that should have come his way, yet never really did. He’ll make a helluva “In Memoriam,” thought. At least he outlived the generation of critics who never took him seriously.

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Movie Review: “Samurai Fury” Triggers an Insurrection in Old Nippon

A badass ronin swaggers and slices his way through Medieval Kyoto in “Samurai Fury,” an action epic about a tax revolt in a time of plague and famine.

Ryosuke Kakine’s historical novel — “Muromachi Outsiders” — was inspired by real events in 15th century Japan. Director Yû Irie (“8000 Miles,” “Ninja Girl”) leans into the tropes and archetypes that earned samurai films the nickname “Japanese Westerns” for this action-packed, Spaghetti-Western-scored Soba Noodle swashbuckler.

In the Kyoto of 1461 (Muromachi Era), plague and famine have killed tens of thousands. But the ruling shogunate, which “did nothing” to lessen the suffering or save lives, has allowed its ruling class, lords and monks, to maintain their lifestyle at the expense of impoverished peasants, who are in debt — taxed and tolled at every turn.

The regime’s fearsome head of security, Honekawa Doken (an imposing Shin’ichi Tsutsumi), is charged with keeping the peace even as the prissy, posh shogun forces debt slaves to haul a vast stone to decorate the center of his palace’s lake, a stone he then decides he doesn’t like after he sees it installed.

“Flowers would be prettier, I think,” he decides, in Japanese with English subtitles.

There’s talk of a revolt or insurrection among the peasants and ronin, with one form of uprising being more serious than the other. So Doken meets up with a ronin (unemployed “vagabond” samurai) he knows, Hasuda Hyoe (Yo Oizumi,) and commissions him to take the pulse of the public and help fend off the threat.

The canny, charismatic Hyoe not only drives a hard bargain, he cracks that his old friend Doken has become “the shogun’s pooch.” He agrees to do the job if the Doken will let him take this “brat” Saizo (former pop idol Kento Nagao) who resisted the “bloodsucking monks” who bound and gagged him over a debt with plans to have Doken execute him.

“Frog,” the roaming samurai nicknames his pupil. The kid fended off monks and their henchmen for a while with just his staff, is a lad with “spirit but no skills.” Hyoe gives him a few life lessons about “money,” and giving the monks what they deserve, drops Saizo off for a year’s training with his weapon of choice with the Old Master (Akira Emoto).

Because whatever he’s been paid to do by Doken, Hyoe is playing the long game. He paid the Old Master from money he robbed from a monk-run tolling station that he trashed and robbed after slashing up a score of monk minions. Hyoe cautions peasants and couriers (teamsters without teams, mostly) that the time isn’t right for a revolt. But it will be in a year, once “Frog” has finished his training.

The training montage features some clever twists in prepping a kid for combat with a blunt-pointed staff. His final test? A pay-to-play tournament in which he faces all comers in a “Kill Saizo, Win a Prize” bout.

The supporting insurrectionists include the Old Master’s mute lady archer and a small crew of would-be ronin — Hyoe fanboys — headed by the hilariously hulking Emontaro (Yasushi Ami), who speaks loudly and carries a huge club.

There’s an experienced courtesan (Wakana Matsumoto) in a bit of a love triangle with Doken and Hyoe, right up to the moment she bats her eyes at the suddenly buff Saizo. And the most callous and bloodthirsty of the shogun’s supplicants, Lord Nawa (Kazuki Kitamura) must be dealt with if there’s any justice to be had in this world.

Intrigues will make us wonder who is on whose side, a village will be slaughtered and the final assault on Kyoto and its house of money changers where debt records are kept is epic and set after dark, a furious, witty action set piece by torch light, where torches are the weapon of choice against the paper-pushing, record-keeping oppressers.

Yes, the acting is loud and often broad. There’s always a lot of shouting in samurai tales, and our young J-pop star bellows with the best of them. The leads are well-matched even if the story gets cluttered with supporting players who keep them apart, more or less, until the final act.

The fights are off-the-charts spectacular with Irie’s camera swooping in and around the various maelstroms of violence — trailing the thundering horde led by Emontaro and his club, staring down the shaft of Saizo’s staff as it pokes, fends-off, bludgeons or vaults over foes, and catching the clash of Tachi swords among the warriors, with peasants hurling rocks, stabbing and clubbing their way towards an elusive debt-free future.

It’s not “Lawrence of Arabia” or “Seven Samurai” or “Yojimbo.” But “Samurai Fury” is cleverly and patiently plotted, with good acting and very good fighting. And when the big battle finally begins (86 minutes in) it goes on and on until it proves its been worth the wait.

Rating: unrated, lots and lots of bloody violence

Cast:Yo Oizumi, Shin’ichi Tsutsumi, Kento Nagao, Wakana Matsumoto, Hannya, Yasushi Ami, Kazuki Kitamura and Akira Emoto

Credits: Scripted and directed by Yû Irie, based on a novel by Ryosuke Kakine. A Well Go USA release.

Running time: 2:15

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Movie Review: Coming Out in the ’90s is no Easy Thing for “Plaintclothes” Cop

“Plainclothes” is a simple but engaging “coming out” tale of the sort we’ve been seeing for decades now. But the performances are understated and spot-on. And writer-director Camen Emmi’s feature debut reels us in through the simple trick of not just telling this timeworn story, but making us come to the movie.

We have to unravel the when and where this version of coming out takes place, who the protagonist is and why this umpteenth version of such a story is worth our time. Music, clothes, beepers, payphones and a mall reveal it’s a ’90s period piece.

We’re forced to decipher the inconsistent timeline, and what’s changed for that now mustached and stubbled protagonist since the scenes where Lucas (Tom Blyth) was a cleanshaven plainclothes cop in suburban New York. In the past, he was dealing with peeper pages from his mother which might concern his ill father. In the present, Dad’s dead, mom (Maria Dizza, quite good) is chainsmoking and her obnoxious brother, his Uncle Paulie (Gabe Fazio, a “type” but spot-on), is showing off his homophobia to the entire family in the way he treats “pansy” Paulie Jr.

Lucas is a young cop who’s heart isn’t really in his work as “bait” at the mall where taxpayer dollars and police crimefighting hours are spent entrapping gay men who’d like a men’s room quickie while shopping.

Their indiscretion will cost them an indecent exposure plea as “exposure” is hung over their heads, since the aged old school lieutenant (John Bedford Lloyd) has a real Jones for hounding “perverts.” He lays out his misguided, outdated reasons as he plays old stakeout film footage for a new recruit to this squad. He’s passed this passion on to his sergeant (Christian Cooke) running the show. But Lucas doesn’t like the work.

Those exchanged moments of eye contact setting the trap have him seriously questioning his sexuality. That’s led to him breaking up with his longtime girlfriend (Amy Forsyth). And they’re part of the reason this one target (Russell Tovey), a few years older, eludes the handcuffs after they’ve met in a stall in that men’s room.

“Have you done this before?”

Emmi’s film can’t help but play as dated and a tad overfamiliar. And as a history lesson about “the way things used to be” it can feel almost quaint. Setting the film after the ravages of AIDS adds to that.

But Blyth and Tovey, as Lucas and a very cautious, more experienced Andrew, subtly remind us that those personal stakes could not have been higher in a closeted era as careers, family and futures are gambled by men grappling with who they really are and how low they must feel, seeking intimacy in a public toilet.

Lucas is new to all this, and infatuated. Andrew might be a “cruising” cliche, but he has his reasons and a compassionate side.

And as this story finds its way past the predictable towards a reckoning that’s both surprising and satisfying, the viewer is invited to ponder the phrase “We’re not going back” anew as we’re reminded of just how far we’ve come.

Rating: R, violence, sex, nudity, profanity

Cast: Tom Blyth, Russell Tovey, Maria Dizza, Amy Forsyth, Christian Cooke, and Gabe Fazio

Credits: Scripted and directed by Carmen Emmi. A Magnolia release.

Running time: 1:35

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Documentary Preview — “Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror”

Hell’s bells, has it really been FIFTY YEARS?

This doc about the loopy, toe-tapping, trans-happy, Meat Loaf rocking musical starring Tim Curry, Susan Sarandon, Barry Bostwick, Bond villain Charles Gray (“It’s just a JUMP to the left…”) and its creator, Richard O’Brien, that became the Greatest Cult Film/Best Midnight Movie/World Champion Audience Participation thrill show of them all.

Sarandon, O’Brien and Curry are here.

This looks sentimental, cool, timely and IMPORTANT.

Sept. 26.

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