Movie Nation

I made a joke over on Facebook about not watching the Oscars at all. Well, half joke.

I don’t care about the awards or the show, and only tune in to get a feel for the evening. I caught the open, then watched a movie.

When “Top Gun” ended, I turned the telecast back on, and within three minutes was asking friends via Twitter and Facebook, “Wait, did that just happen?”

OK.

“But aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how’d you like the play?

“CODA” won best picture, “Dune” won the most Oscars, Kenneth Branagh and Jessica Chastain and Will Smith finally won Oscars. Jane Campion won her second, after 1994’s “The Piano.”

Will Smith didn’t manage a full apology.

Lovely sign language acceptance speech from Troy, moving speeches from Ariana, Jessica and Ken.

And this…

A man of violence who throws in his lot to protect the defenseless was a movie trope long before Brandon de Wilde yelled “SHANE! Come back!”

So let’s see how it fares in “Boon,” with veteran heavy Neal McDonough (“Walking Tall,” TV’s “Van Helsing”) playing Mr. “A History of Violence,” a hit-man on the lam who helps those once who helped him.

McDonough co-scripted this contrived star vehicle, a thriller that lets you see all the wheels arbitrarily set in motion and hear every gear that grinds along the way.

“Nick” is a wanted man, making his way to the border between Washington state and Canada. A Fed named Redd (Demetrius Grosse) is on his tail. But he’s playing catchup. There’s already somebody trying to silence this hired killer. But this guy (“Dragon” star Jason Scott Lee in a single scene) doesn’t even have time to fit his silencer on his pistol before Nick has the drop on him.

Wounded in the shootout, Nick stumbles through the woods and wakes up in the care of a widowed preacher (Christiane Seidel of TV’s “The Queen’s Gambit” and “Godless”) and her teen son (Jake Melrose).

She shares a bit of her story, but Nick is cagey and silent, which won’t fly with her.

“I think it’s only right that you tell me how you were shot” and ended up on her land.

Nick gets well enough to head off to a rental and extract the bullet himself (sure), but Catherine the pastor has other issues, which Nick figures out soon enough. She’s obligated to some seriously lethal scumbags who are “doing some work on our land.” Nick figures out what that might be, the “blind eye” she’s turning, and what her and her son’s fate will be once Fitzgerald (Tommy Flanagan) and his crew have no more use for them.

“Boon” does a terrible job of saying why the Baptist preacher is going along with these goons’ plans. It introduces her as a Good Samaritan owed a favor and mentions Nick’s Catholicism, as if any Catholic not “In Bruges” would be confessing his sins in BFE, Washington.

But all this script is concerned with is facilitating the characters moving from one violent encounter to another. Nick is handy with any firearm you can name, and when the chips are down and the odds are at their highest, he might just improvise.

Hey Nick, whatcha gonna do with that SPOON you just plucked out the kid’s cereal?

There are goonish henchmen and Fitzgerald’s vengeful Olivia Wilde-look-alike daughter-in-law (Spanish actress Christina Ochoa) also to contend with. And let’s not forget our lone Fed, on the clock and inexplicably by himself.

There’s more care put into bodies being yanked backward by a shotgun blast, and in McDonough’s fedora and turtle-neck hitman attire, than in any scene or exchange of dialogue in the script, co-written by director Derek Presley, McDonough’s co-conspirator for the little-seen 2021 Neal-as-hitman thriller “Red Stone.”

The big shootout is big enough, but is there enough leading up to it to make us suspend disbelief, invest in characters and care? I think not.

Rating: unrated, graphic violence, drug abuse, profanity

Cast: Neal McDonough, Christiane Seidel, Demetrius Grosse, Christina Ochoa, Jake Melrose, Jason Scott Lee and Tommy Flanagan.

Credits: Directed by Derek Presley, scripted by Neal McDonough and Derek Presley. A Cinedigm release.

Running time: 1:35

It’s been jarring to see the Walt Disney Company’s tepid, tone-deaf under-reaction to Florida’s “Don’t say ‘gay’ bill in light of everything that America’s greatest entertainment entertainment company has done that sends just the opposite message.

Many have been shocked at that in light of the corporate culture that seemed inspired by gay lyricist and eventual AIDS victim Howard Ashman’s reinvention of the screen musical, in animated form (“The Little Mermaid” and “Beauty and the Beast), which led to a more openly gay-friendly company. Disney, after all, not only tolerated but embraced the gay community’s creating “Gay Days” at Disney World.

And with all that, Disney has been reluctant to take a stand against hate-mongering legislation not designed to “protect kids/spare parents,” but to single out a minority group for increasingly authoritarian Republicans to attack and “erase.”

Disney has bought influence in the Florida legislature for decades, giving them free rein to develop Disney World, Celebration and everything about that happened “on property” from the start. Now, those same “Let Disney and its Reedy Creek Improvement District do whatever they want” legislators and their reactionary governor have passed a flagrant assault on free speech, gay rights and academic freedoms, one which carries “gay isn’t OK” messaging that many parents and students feel is dangerous and downright threatening.

What a time for “Better Nate Than Ever” to come to Disney+. But here it is, Tim Federle’s screen musical adaptation of his best-selling book about a 13 year-old Broadway baby and his “matter of life and death” dreams of singing and dancing on The Great White Way.

Our hero, Nate (Rueby Wood) has a classmate/confidante (Aria Brooks) who crushes on him — hard. But Nate, who is “just trying to survive the seventh grade,” struggles to find the words to let her down easily.

We know what he knows, and that “gotta dance” gotta sing call-to-the-stage, which comes with a fondness for glitter lip gloss, may “embarrass” his jock brother (Joshua Bassett). But Nate’s got a dream, got a purpose and has a tribe, and “theater kids” can isn’t just a euphemism for kids like him.

Because nobody in this movie says “gay” either. So maybe this corporate temerity is a bit more prevalent in the culture than we figured.

The film itself is an innocuous but pleasant “Junior High School Musical” from the writer/creator of that Disney blockbuster — Federle — with Gabriel Mann (“A Million Little Things”) serving up pleasantly forgettable songs.

Nate is short and earnest and tries his best, but he never gets cast in school plays. Yes, he’s only 13, but like gymnasts, ballerinas and mayflies, Broadway babies figure their window for “making it” closes a little bit every day.

Then he hears of a chance to jump past the drama teacher (Underdeveloped and underexplained –WHY won’t she cast him?) and straight onto Broadway. What is Disney’s next big movie-to-musical Broadway project? Only “the greatest animated film ever,” “Lilo & Stitch.”

Nate has the pluck to scheme his way, behind his struggling, working-class parents’ and his “babysitting” older brother’s’ back,s to get to New York. Can he pull that off, avoid getting mugged or just New York cheated out of his ready cash, ace the audition and realize his dream? Just guess.

The cute stuff Federle crams into this story include under-age fish-out-of-water gags about the kids — BFF Lily has to pitch in — bussing their way to New York, which Nate has “Guys and Dolls” era delusions about, “Billy Elliot” references, busking for bucks to survive the city, insufferable stage parents and their Broadway brats at auditions, and the movie’s ace in the hole.

That would be Lisa Kudrow as Nate’s semi-estranged aunt, a Broadway actress still acting and hoofing and hustling for a living decades after her “matter of life and death” dream came true. Sort of. Kudrow’s off-tempo way with a one-liner, her deadpan double-takes at this kid about to storm Broadway, who can use more than just her advice right now, kicks the comedy up a notch.

Nate’s irrepressible “THIS is where I’m supposed to be” renews Aunt Heidi’s enthusiasm for the cattle calls, the smell of the greasepaint and the roar of the crowd. She lives a vicariously — just a little — through Nate’s sudden stroke of luck (a “callback”).

The premise is so adorable as to give you a toothache. The production numbers have a “Guys and Dolls” era artifice that’s just as cute. And the dialogue has its share of zingers.

“Where in the name of Stephen Joshua Sondheim ARE you?”

Our lead, a veteran of the stage tour of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” has enough charm and musical theater chops to hold our interest even if the movie is aimed at more of a tween or young teen audience.

But even though you’d expect a movie looking for that demographic to not have much in the way of edge, you have to wonder if Federle lost an argument with corporate about mentioning the word “gay.” Is he kicking himself for not pushing back harder on that as “Nate” makes its way to TVs all over America, including the Banana Republic of Florida? I’ll bet he is.

Rating: PG for thematic elements, a suggestive reference and mild language

Cast: Rueby Wood, Aria Brooks, Joshua Bassett and Lisa Kudrow

Credits: Scripted and directed by Tim Federle, based on his novel. A Disney+ release.

Running time: 1:31

With the “Top Gun” sequel firmly (Hah!) set for release on May 27, it occurred to me that I should at least re-familiarize myself with this icon of ’80s “High Concept” cinema. And then it occurred to me that I’ve never actually seen it, start to finish.

I was reviewing films for a newspaper when it came out, and I’m guessing the fellow I shared those duties with drew this assignment. It’s not like I didn’t try to watch it, once or thrice. I’d get 5-20 minutes in while channel surfing, mutter “Why people ever liked this is beyond me” and move on.

“Top Gun” is Reagan Era American jingoism at its glossiest, something worth remembering when watching it. A common criticism of this film of-its-time/at-that-time was that it was a “recruiting film.”

Reagan’s gone, the Navy moved on from the ruinously expensive to maintain,/Achilles Heeled F-14 Tomcat, and Hollywood moved on from high concept.

In the ensuing years, I developed a fondness for Tony Scott’s films and interviewed him a couple of times, even chatted-up producers Jerry Bruckheimer and the late Don Simpson, the Kings of High Concept (a movie or TV show you can adequately describe in a seriously-short sentence fragment — “MTV-Cops” (“Miami Vice”), “MTV dogfights” (“Top Gun”).

I interviewed Val Kilmer, later read his autobiography and reviewed his documentary, which touched on the experience of making “Top Gun,” and even tried to dine at a Key West eatery Kelly McGillis opened with her husband some years back. I’d still be waiting for service if we hadn’t walked out after an hour and a half.

The Tom Cruise movie they all made is beloved, one of those pictures that at decades of public appearances, fans have asked, “When are you making a sequel?” of cast and crew. Why is that?

This film was the first “Tom Cruise” movie that shaped his big screen action persona — a swagger built on a determination to do as many of his own stunts as possible (motorcycles, jet fly-alongs). You can tell he’s in the thick of things, even if you can also tell they’re doing things to make him look tall enough to fly jets for the U.S. Navy and not look short next to his leading lady.

He even sings in this picture, not something we’ve heard him often attempt. With cause.

The aerial sequences, stunningly-shot by Jeffrey Kimball in sunbaked tones and breathlessly edited into fighter-bomber porn by Chris Lebenzon and Billy Weber, are still impressive — XCUs of jet exhaust ports, carrier landing crew protocols, wing-mounted/cockpit-mounted camera shots galore, and long before GoPro-sized gear made that easy.

The training simulations are adorably quaint, stick-outline aircraft graphics like the old “Battle Zone” video game.

The cast is packed with great character players, a future Oscar winner (Tim Robbins), and icons-to-be like Kilmer, Meg Ryan, McGillis and “E.R.” mainstay Anthony Edwards.

But. This. Story. It isn’t just the militaria that the military-minded have torn to shreds for its inaccuracy in the days, weeks and decades since the film’s release. The film’s repeated use of “bogeys” for hostile aircraft, which are “bandits” if you know they’re hostile, the strict rules that Maverick flouts with his “$30 million airplane,” which would have washed him out in an instant, etc. are eyeroll friendly.

There’s little attempt to wholly identify the “enemy” here, just an America against the World ethos

The stars have zero chemistry. There is no logical reason McGillis’s smart, connected civilian contractor would have been attracted to this callow pilot who seems younger and dumber, if exciting. As she’s been around a lot of these guys, his close-encounter with a Russian-made MiG would hardly justify her willingness to flirt and accept his childish come-ons. A “You’ve lost that Loving Feeling” duet with Edwards & Ensemble as a pick-up attempt?

 “Listen,” Charlie (McGillis) says, “can I ask you a personal question?”

“That depends.”

“Are you a good pilot?”

“I can hold my own.”

“Great, then I won’t have to worry about you making your living as a singer.“

Scott went on to greater glory, and even made a fine comeback picture (“Unstoppable”) before taking his own life in 2012. But here’s a reason these screenwriters graduated from “Top Gun” to write “Dick Tracy” and “Anaconda” and “Turner & Hooch.” Contrived situations, contorted insertions of drama, inane dialogue was kind of their thing.

Which is not to say that when this pre-digital celluloid film came out, it didn’t practically pop off the screen. But there’s very little to this PG-rated war-and-sex picture, and even less that suggests “sequel,” especially over 30 years later.

Rating: PG

Cast: Tom Cruise, Anthony Edwards, Kelly McGillis, Val Kilmer, Tom Skerritt, Michael Ironside, Meg Ryan, Tim Robbins and James Tolkan.

Credits: Directed by Tony Scott, scripted by Jim Cash, Jack Epps Jr., Ehud Yonay. A Paramount release.

Running time: 1:50

Yeah, that happened. A “GI Jane: II” joke from Chris Rock earns a mutter and eyeroll from Jada Pinkett Smith, and a HARD smack from Will Smith, storming the stage, and some pretty serious cussing from his seat, too. Not a good look on his part.

What the hell? Not the “nice guy” after all? Lots of people have taken direct hits from Chris Rock and grinned it off. I guess that Friar’s Club Roast is off the table?

The Oscars just got a blast of MTV Music Awards Kanye Krazy. The joke was TAME, whatever its inuendo. Jada has shared far worse about herself and them as a couple than anything Chris Rock said. Did Smith feel he had license for payback because of her condition?

What is the source of this bad blood? Maybe this?

Got to say, it casts a pall over the night that may last a bit longer than two commercial breaks. Only one presenter mentions it afterward, so far. But we’ll see.

Back in the ’70s, Vanessa Redgrave made a pro PLO acceptance speech that the Jewish screenwriter Paddy Chayevsky felt compelled to respond to later. Somebody will almost certainly bring it up.

Wanda Sykes? Paging Wanda Sykes? Will everybody shy away from it because Smith is expected to win best actor? Will WILL address it?

Amy Schumer, “Did I MISS anything? There’s like a different VIBE in here?”

Muted applause when Smith’s name as Best Actor winner comes up. Actors acting…

“In character” is his defense/explanation? Tears and lashing out at “people disrespecting you.” “Denzel just told me, ‘At your highest moment, that’s when the Devil comes for you.'” The show’s director is at a loss.

“I want to apologize to the Academy, I want to apologize to my fellow nominees.” Good. But uh, no apology to Chris Rock?

Wandering around, groping, finding a reconnection with the audience. “Art imitates life. I look like the ‘crazy father.'” Yeah, you did.

They don’t “play him off,” which is fine. Humility. “I’m hoping the Academy invites me back.” Invokes God a few times for good measure.

The director cuts away — because one Williams sister’s breast was hanging out of her dress (allegedly). Jesus, what a Smithshow.

Cannot WAIT for the psychoanalysis and columnizing on this. Joe Rogan/Faux are going to have a field day.

Aside from that, this was a very sweet, touching, representational awards show. Lovely speeches, deserving winners, “CODA” as best picture.

But all we’ll remember is Will Smith acting out.

An eyewitness/EARwitness account below. And below that, the Japanese feed of the event, uncensored.

You hear his name in films and on TV as a sort of inside British joke about pedophilia, but if you didn’t grow up with him on British radio and TV, you can’t really appreciate the scale of this public betrayal.

But it turns out he was a pedophile without peer, a platinum-white blond haired monster right under everyone’s noses.

Jimmy Savile was a Star personality of the ’60s and ’70s who became a lionized public figure thanks to great success as a charity fundraiser.

Here’s the film to tell us how on Earth that happened.

April 6, only Netflix.

Well, we’ve been hearing “King Richard” might be the Oscar sleeper. Why not start the show with a genuine show stopper?

The Williams Sisters and Queen Bey, a legion of singers, dancers and instrumentalists and everybody wearing the color of a Wilson tennis ball.

Performing to a track, lip-synced? Not the Queen, tho.

And here comes DJ Time-to-Tune-Out. I think I’ve got a movie to watch.

This April 27 release (HBO Max) has a lot of star power — Foster, Danny DeVito, John Leguizamo and Peter Sarsgaard.

And it was directed by Barry Levinson, Oscar winner for “Rain Man” and not working nearly as much as he did in the ’90s.

Based on a true story, a Jewish Auschwitz survivor fights Marciano? Never heard tell.

Oscar winner Sandra Bullock, Channing Tatum, Daniel Radcliffe and a taste of Brad Pitt proved to be a winning line-up at the box office, as the derivative adventure comedy “The Lost City” racked up an impressive $31 million opening weekend.

Paramount is doing its part to keep movies people want to go out and see in theaters, thanks to this and “Jackass: The Last Hurrah.”

“Infinite Storm,” a Naomi Watts true-life tale of survival in a blizzard, bombed. A good movie that only sold about $750k in tickets, according to Exhibitor Relations.

The much-hyped/much-loved horror film “X” ($2.2 million) and the anime “Jujutsu Kaisen 0.” ($4.5) both fell off cliffs on their second weekends.

“X” under-performed for a horror title. Too smart?

Anime is typically a one-weekend blockbuster, and this one rightfully has zero appeal to non-devotees. But that big open and a decent weekday numbers put “Kaisen” at $27.7, and it’ll clear $30 early next week. Crunchyroll, its North American distributor, is cracking open the sake right now.

“The Outfit” is making a fast exit, a solid thriller that only took in just over $560k this weekend.

Oh, and that little Warner Brothers blockbuster “The Batman?” It’s over $330 million in North America alone, thanks to another $20 million and change this weekend.

The morning after watching Andrea Arnold’s wordless, moving and sometimes unsettling documentary “Cow,” I found myself crossing the vast Deseret Ranches, the Mormon church’s beef cattle country that dominates the flat plains between the coasts of south central Florida.

And as I saw the free-roaming herds of Brahman/”Cracker” hybrids, hunting for shade, caring for their calves and grazing on the wide open and buggy spaces, I couldn’t help but think “You lucky bastards.”

Arnold’s film, which follows a mother and one of her calves through their short, sheltered lives on a British dairy farm, paints the portrait of a much glummer and limited existence. Looking the mother and calf in the eyes and seeing their circumscribed world through those eyes, we get a glimpse of what could pass for a soul in animals that most of us merely consider unthinking beasts raised for our nourishment, aka “what’s for dinner.”

There is no abuse of these Holsteins, raised and milked on a modest but industrialized dairy farm in Kent, England. From the human assistance with the mother’s calving to the attention paid to diet, the calm vocalizations that move them to corrals, pens and milking stations and the care given to trimming their hooves and ensuring the calves are well-fed and their pens mucked out, Park Farm passes Humane Society muster.

There’s no coddling, no “naming” of the animals that we hear. We know, of course, that they aren’t pets but “livestock,” an investment to be protected, used and even harvested.

But the unmistakable message of Arnold’s film — she did the downbeat hustler’s romance “American Honey” — is that this is no life, that any living thing, no matter how we “use it,” deserves better than this.

We see the calf separated from its mother quite early. They need most of her milk for their own purposes. She complains, and in extreme closeup, you sense the heartbreak, how shattering this must be for the animal. That it happens repeatedly over the course of the years shortens their lives, and not just in a physical sense.

The calf is kept penned-up inside for some stretch of time before ever glimpsing daylight and green fields. And then it’s penned-up again, in a tiny hut with a fenced-in space that would have the neighbors calling the cops if it was all that a medium-sized dog experienced of the world.

She’s seen her mother for the last time.

The calves kick up and try out the idea of play and cavorting, but there’s no room. It’s months before they’re allowed in a pasture, gorging themselves on real grass, glimpsing seasonal fireworks over the confining roof of a barn.

Arnold keeps her camera tight — on the cows’ shoulders or following them, always giving us a dose of the world as they’re seeing it. It’s a butt’s-eye-view take on “Escape to the Country.”

You have to take the filmmaker at her word on a movie like this. The editing, which conveys the sense that the cattle spend little time out of doors and are warehoused in soulless, rusty sheet-metal prisons for too much of their lives, has got to be honest for this message to be trusted.

I do trust Arnold, and can only shudder at the thought of conditions she might have captured on a larger American industrial dairy farm.

As mother or calf glances up and gazes at a passing jet, or into the night sky seemingly pondering the stars that form Ursa Minor, we absorb a “Charlotte’s Web/Babe” epiphany. Maybe artificial meat and plant-based milk is the future, and we’ll look back on our age and values with a sort of cannibalistic horror. Think of our evolving view of what goes on at zoos or Sea World and “parks” of that ilk.

And if we don’t, we’ll half to admit it’s only because we just don’t want to think about it.

Rating: violence, graphic calving scenes

Credits: Directed by Andrea Arnold. A BBC Films/IFC release.

Running time: 1:38