Movie Review: Prospective Parents Olsen and Patel quake at “The Assessment” by Alicia Vikander

“The Assessment” is smart and sinister sci-fi of “The Handmaids Tale” school, a striking, minimalist parable about humanity’s failings in facing an inhumane future.

A geographically and architecturally stark setting hosts a grim lecture on family, population and the psychology of loss, with all involved presided over by a ruthlessly pragmatic and fascist “State.” And a fine cast humanizes the toll that takes on the psyche, and the true costs of a disaster twisted into a lonely, self-actualizing utopia.

Elizabeth Olsen and Himesh Patel play Mia and Aaryan, a couple of high-value scientists living in a roomy, efficient, AI-equipped mansion on a remote rocky beach. She’s a plant biologist, studying and tinkering with everything from algae on up the evolutionary ladder, looking for future food sources. He’s a virtual reality engineer, perfecting the simulated behavior and tactile texture of a VR cat and a chimp.

You don’t want to know what happened to “real” pets in this future, under the “dome” that separates the “New World” from the Old.

This is post-climate change civilization, when a disaster has empowered a State to compensate for human pettiness, greed, pollution and waste. Simply adding a new baby to the populace requires state permission and state involvement. An “assessment” is required, and even if a couple passes, there’ll be no bringing a baby into this Brave New World the old fashioned way.

Sex is strictly for pleasure.

Alicia Vikander is the stern, primly-dressed state appointed assessor, Virginia. It’s going to take a lot more than their assurance that “We would be really great parents” to sell her.

Virginia is to stay with them for seven days, questioning and “testing” their fitness for this grave responsibility, and it is implied, strain on the “resources” of the state.

It begins with intrusive questioning.

“Why do you want a child?” makes sense. “How often do you have sex?” seems immaterial. And questioning smart people — scientists — makes it go more slowly. Because Mia in particular has questions about Virginia’s questions. Almost anything out of Virginia’s mouth is worth an “Is this part of the ‘test?'”

Virginia insists on a different bedroom — theirs. And when they have sex on the single bed they take in her stead, she sneaks up to watch.

“Just act as if I’m not here.”

As they explain their work and their daily routines, as they assemble a state-approved geodesic dome nursery/playhouse, Virginia watches, taking notes and judging with every glance.

It’s when she starts acting the part of an unruly, rebellious, won’t-eat/won’t-cooperate child, that this “Assessment” turns truly hairy.

The rational viewer can accept some of what’s going on as “EVERY parent should be able and qualified to handle this.” We’re all social workers when it comes to how other people raise (or don’t) their children. But the Darwinian extremes here are fascism laid bare.

The script, by Mr. and Mrs. Thomas (see below) and John Donnelly, ratchets up the pressure on the couple as it exposes traumas in their pasts and shortcomings in their personalities. Tests like a surprise dinner party with other parents and a child, relatives and that one rude child-intolerant adult (Minnie Driver, deliciously despicable) forced to contend with Virginia behaving monstrously reveal much.

The Oscar-winning Vikander lets us see the calculation in Virginia, and hints at her own “issues” and shortcomings. Is this “Assessment” really by the book?

Patel (“Yesterday,””Tenet”) lays bare the rift that being “the favorite” parent sets up, and the human failings Aaryan sees in his wife but not in himself.

Olsen makes Mia earthy but flinty, motherly with an edge, lawyer-sharp in her logic, sexy with an agenda.

Director Fleur Fortune, a music video veteran, insists on setting up a sleek, austere “classic” sci-fi future of under-populated affluence with big open spaces outside and inside the McMansion by sea — Mondrian stained glass window, the works. But the emptiness conveys loneliness and doesn’t hide the ugly realities of how such star-kissed lives are achieved in civilization’s idealized next stage.

She’d have been well-served to give the third act a vigorous cut, as the story reaches a conclusion and wanders into an epilogue that suggests (sci-fi) logical extremes beyond that outcome, which is anticlimactic by design.

But “The Assessment” is still a most impressive debut feature. It manages to chill and even amuse as we ponder the consequences of our impractical, self-destructive, selfish and politically shortsighted present in a future that might look utopian, with the horrific dystopian reality merely papered over by choice real estate.

Rating: R, sexual content, nudity, violence, profanity

Cast: Alicia Vikander, Elizabeth Olsen, Himesh Patel, Leah Harvey, Nicholas Pinnock, Charlotte Ritchie and Minnie Driver.

Credits: Directed by Fleur Fortune, scripted by Mr. and Mrs. Thomas (Nell Garfath Cox, Dave Thomas) and John Donnelly. A Magnolia release.

Running time: 1:53

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Netflixable? Master Documentarian Errol Morris takes on Manson’s Motives and MO — “Chaos: The Manson Murders”

Over fifty years after the Charles Manson/Tate-LaBianca murders, the “Helter Skelter” slaughter continues to entice and challenge the American psyche.

With all the books, all the films and TV miniseries about it, with even Quentin Tarantino weighing in with a wish fulfillment fantasy riff on the crimes committed “Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood,” it would seem impossible to find a fresh angle on the subject.

But America’s greatest documentarian, Errol Morris, got Netflix money to find one, and he did — “Motive.”

What if the narrative we’ve been fed, that cult leader Manson was obsessed with starting a race war and found legions of compliant 1960s hippies to buy in to his mad obsession with triggering that and join his “family,” was just spin? What if it was just what the “government wanted you to believe,” perhaps motivated by a coverup? Or a Hollywood prosecutor’s angle to help sell a book?

“Chaos: The Manson Murders” wades into possible CIA CHAOS operation connections and MK-ULTRA” experiments, FBI COINTELPRO motives, probing the role LSD was suspected of playing in “mind control” and Charles Manson’s post-prison, pre-murders metamorphisis into a guru.

It taps into the “establishment” paranoias of the time, the “Manchurian Candidate” thinking, a mysterious CIA Dr. “Jolly” with ties to — wait for it — The Kennedy Assassination.

The film is anchored around interviews with journalist/researcher Tom O’Neill as it is largely based on O’Neill’s book, “Chaos: Charles Manson, the CIA and the Secret History of the Sixties.”

“I know that what we were told,” O’Neill says with certainty, “ISN’T what happened.”

As Morris interrogates O’Neill, samples archival interviews (by the likes of Diane Sawyer, Tom Snyder and Geraldo Rivera) with Manson and others convicted of the murders, we start to wonder, as Morris himself must have, if O’Neill has a point.

We hear from a surviving prosecutor, Stephen Kay, who sounds quite reasonable in remaking the state’s case — that the Beatles were prophets in Manson’s mind, that he preached “Helter Skelter” chaos creation to his “family” at the Spahn Movie Ranch where they were holed up, that his racial paranoia drove his thinking and was absorbed by his minions, who painted “Pig” and “Helter Skelter” on the walls and doors of the crime scenes of their murder spree to make “it look like the Black Panthers” did it.

But hearing that the case’s lead prosecutor, Vincent Bugliosi, had his co-writer Curt Gentry in the courtroom, taking notes for the planned book, “Helter Skelter: The True Story of the Manson Murders,” which they knew they could sell the movie rights to, gives us doubts.

When Morris interviews murderous Family member Bobby Beausoleil by phone in prison, he lends a second voice to debunking the Bugliosi “narrative” this story has been sold by for over 50 years.

The Bugliosi bashing is joined by some odd connections between Manson, his San Francisco parole officer and a supposed CIA-experiment-linked “clinic” there during the ’67 “Summer of Love.”

O’Neill has lots of documentation underscoring his CIA theories, but throws a lot of such coincidences and connections against the wall. And while Morris occasionally catches him equivocating, backing down from The Big Conspiracy, we watch and wonder if the great documentarian has wholly bought in. Is there genuine “pushback” coming?

Is that moment where O’Neill, interviewed in an easy chair sitting in a pool of light, glimpses his dog passing behind him a comment on his “Will this dog hunt?” credibility?

Details pile up as we wait for some shoe to drop — the number of blunders in the murders and their planning by Manson & Co., and by the cops, who didn’t tie three separate blood-writing-on-the-wall killings in the same short period of time together.

We hear Manson’s music, a brooding folk crooner who sounds creepily like the “lost” and found singer Rodriguez, and piece together some (but not all) of the connections he made with the music industry in LA.

And as Morris asks more and more pointed questions off camera and we catch snippets of the classic film “The Manchurian Candidate,” we, like Morris, consider all our options.

Do we believe the now-dead, got-rich-on-the-case Bugliosi and his team? Do we think the FBI and CIA manipulated/trained/turned-loose Manson, or that they contorted the case to fit their “discredit the left/anti-war movement” agenda?

Or do we believe the guy who’s still in prison for murder, who unravels what has been pitched as “random” wanton slaughter as a series of mistaken addresses, misplaced grudges and crimes to cover up other crimes?

How important was “the music” in all of this?

Morris, the master interrogator, keeps his powder dry to let the assorted spokesfolks make their cases, only occasionally allowing the filmmaker’s incredulity into his finished film.

We’re meant to make our own judgement as to who makes the best case. As for me, let’s just say I left this film waiting for Bobby Beausoleil’s book on the subject.

Only Errol Morris could make a murderer in prison come off more credible than pretty much anybody else in a true crime documentary.

Rating: TV-MA, violence

Cast: Tom O’Neill, Charles Manson, Stephen Kay, Vincent Bugliosi, Bobby Beausoleil, Tex Watson, Bernard Crowe, Gregg Jakobson and Errol Morris

Credits: Directed by Errol Morris, based on the book by Tom O’Neill and Dan Piepenbring. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:39

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Movie Review: A boy’s “Camera” captures an Elegy to Age and a Dying Fishing Town

“Camera” is an indie ode to taking photographs on celluloid wrapped around a poignant coming of age story set in a fishing town that’s going down — emptying out and dying of old age.

It’s right in the wheelhouse of director Jay Silverman, whose “Saving Paradise” has similar sentimental themes and a setting about to lose its pencil factory. Filmed in scenic Morro Bay, and patient to the point of “slow,” “Camera” is lifted by the grace notes only seriously seasoned actors can add to your independent film.

Beau Bridges twinkles into the sunset and Bruce Davison rages rages “against the dying of the light” as two elders in tiny, shrinking Jasper’s Cove.

That’s where young Oscar (Miguel Gabriel) and his widowed mom (Jessica Parker Kennedy) have settled, a pretty spot with zero prospects — she waits on tables at the diner — and just enough kids for silent Oscar to face relentless bullying.

He walks around the village, silently observing, often through the waist level (“look down”) viewfinder of his classic Mamiya large format twin lens reflex camera. It’s broken, but he can still pretend it works.

Wandering into Eric’s fix-it shop brings the introverted child under the influence of widowed owner Eric (Bridges), a tinkerer with a bit of an edge, but a soft spot for kid who draws pictures of photos that he can’t capture with his busted camera. Eric learns, through Oscar’s limited collection of communication cards, the boy’s name. And he lends him a functioning Mamiya, with a roll of large format film in it, to go out and take real photos with.

“Great photographers think before they click,” he advises.

The scenes where the boy the locals have labeled “odd” “sees” the town — and occasionally photographs people who don’t want to be snapped — are pretty close to magical.

Oscar picks up on the weariness and despair — especially among the dying-out fishermen. They’re rude to Oscar’s waitress mom, pinning their hopes on elder statesman Frank Flynn (Davison) and his efforts to land a fishing cannery for a fishery and dining palette that probably have no need for it.

Frank’s in conflict with his pub-owning son, Dermot (Scott Partridge), who is leading efforts to lure a resort hotel to this gorgeous spot.

Manny (Jorge-Luis Pallo) is caught between the two, a last generation fisherman ready to give up and find something else to do.

As Oscar relishes learning from his grandfatherly new friend, his hustler uncle (Scotty Tovar) rolls in, another source of conflict in a village with no shortage of unhappy inhabitants. Tested by this, bullied and obsessed by this camera, Oscar can’t hope to grow up happy unless something changes.

“You can’t live your whole life behind a lens,” Eric advises.

Silverman, working from a just-edgy-enough-script by Jamie Murphy and Joseph Gamache, drifts from Oscar’s point of view to that of sentimental Eric and embittered Frank. The character arcs don’t have anyone taking a particularly long journey of the heart. And melodramatic “miracles” are for other, Hallmark Channel-bound versions of this tale.

It’s a slight story engagingly told, with through-the-viewfinder moments that take us back to the days when everyone wasn’t a photographer and the world wasn’t a sea of cell phone images, few of them as composed and well-considered as those captured here.

And Bridges and Davison preside over this elegy with intimate, subtle and affecting performances that lift the entire undertaking to the edge of poetry.

Rating: 16+, violence, drugs, profanity

Cast: Beau Bridges, Miguel Gabriel, Jessica Parker Kennedy, Jorge-Luis Pallo, Scotty Tovar, Ross Partridge and Bruce Davison.

Credits: Directed by Jay Silverman, scripted by Jamie Murphy and Joseph Gamache. A VMI Releasing film on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:52

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Movie Review: Kurdish Immigrant in Norway gets a Visit from “My Uncle Jens”

Akam is a young teacher who instructs kids from many cultures in the finer points of reading and writing in Norwegian, but who rarely gives a thought to his own Kurdish heritage. Until that night his the doorbell of his Oslo flat rings, and an uncle from the Old Country — Iran — stands outside in the rain until he lets him in “My Uncle Jens” a lightly charming, semi-serious Norwegian comedy about family, immigration and an immigrant’s guilt over the world they no longer know and those they left behind in it.

Uncle Khdr (Hamza Agooshi) is mysterious about his unannounced arrival. Teacher Akam (Peiman Azizpour) checks with his mother, who lives in Bergen, and she sounds downright insulted that the Iranian brother-in-law just showed up without letting anybody know he was coming.

And that name? “Too hard” for Norwegians to pronounce. He’ll go by “Uncle Jens” just to fit in.

But as he asserts his right to hospitality — “It’s our culture!” (in Kurdish and/or Norwegian with subtitles) — Uncle Jens starts to intimidate Akam, and make him wonder what the cagey, pushy and 60ish “stranger” is up to.

Writer/director Brwa Vahabpour’s debut feature touches on classic fish-out-of-water immigrant comedy tropes. Uncle Jens has a DVD, and his way of haggling with the locals to get a good price on a player preys on those famous Scandivanian manners. He stubbornly guilts a “yellow haired” guy into accepting a much lower price, and Akam is appalled.

Norwegian tolerance is tested further as Akam shares this three bedroom flat with Stian (Magnus B. Bjørlo Lysbakken) and yoga-obsessed Pernille (Theresa Frostad Eggesbø), who are young enough to bend over backwards about “How long is he staying?” and other inconveniences “Jens” presents to their routine and practices.

“Cultural differences” is all it takes to make them back down at every fresh violation of their roommate agreement.

Challenged by all he doesn’t know about his culture and heritage, dragged into meals at an Iranian restaurant, where politics and duty to his fellow countrymen — Kurdish or not — is hotly debated, Akam comes to resent Khdr and suspect him of getting into the country by means that could get him into undeserved trouble.

He questions an immigration services official (Sarah Francesca Brænne), allegedly for a “short story I’m writing,” learning about protocols, penalties and the like. But she’s a cute redhead and he finds himself drifting off task. “Love” could get in the way of his duty to family or her duty to her job.

Vahabpour’s picture has a hint of “cultural differences” about it in other ways. It unfolds slowly, almost leadenly in the middle acts. He takes little pains to explain/remind the viewer who the Kurds are and the role of the Peshmerga in Iranian life.

But his film stoically wrestles with how easily or uneasily “they” fit into Norwegian life and in the conflict between those who “got out” and came to this icy but welcoming country, and what might be faced by those left behind. And Vahabpour finds just enough fun in the culture clash and in Scandinavians’ struggle to reconcile their tolerant liberalism to “cultural traditions” that have nothing to do with skiing and Lutefisk for Christmas.

Rating: Unrated

Cast: Peiman Azizpour, Hamza Agooshi, Sarah Francesca Brænne, Theresa Frostad Eggesbø and Magnus B. Bjørlo Lysbakken

Credits: Scripted and directed by Brwa Vahabpour. A True Content/Tangaj production reviewed at SXSW.

Running time: 1:38

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Movie Review: Chinese Mob Lawyer insists “I Did It My Way”

“I Did It My Way” is a Hong Kong cops-vs-Dark Web/Drug Trade thriller that unfolds like a tragic opera, one set to the strains of Frank Sinatra’s third biggest hit.

The action, emotions and sentimental turns in the plot are heightened, but never come close to being as over-the-top as they needed to be to come off. It’s a melodrama with cops threatening gangsters — mid SHOOT OUT, mind you — with “You’ve got 15 minutes to surrender!”

Fifteen minutes? That’s awfully generous.

A mobster screams about all he’s lost and cries in fury about why the cops and their families should be spared the same heartache.

Nobody bothers to tell him, “Because you’re a drug supplier and ruthless thug who’s tortured and executed cops, rivals and anyone in your gang who could tie you to crimes, and scores of drug users have died thanks to you.”

Cinematographer turned director Jason Kwan, who helmed the “Chasing the Dragon” thrillers, does little to lift his stock with this slick-looking/dumb sounding B-movie. But the suspense plays, I’ll give him that.

Veteran producer and star Andy Lau (“Internal Affairs,””House of Flying Daggers”) plays the heavy, a Hong Kong lawyer named George Lam who always gets the bad guys out of jail and always keeps the “Boss” beyond the reach of the cops.

Eddie Peng (“The Rescue”) plays the intrepid People’s Republican cop on the case, heading a cyber crimes task force who’s trying to protect China from the perils of Silk Road and the unchecked flood of Colombian drugs about to be unleashed by The Dark Web.

And Ka-Tung Lam of “Ip Man” and “Limbo” is the mob’s top lieutenant, trusted by Lawyer Lam, and a “mole” the cops have inside this vast criminal enterprise.

Suspense here is provided by “Will they find out who our family man/undercover cop is?”

The film’s poorly-handled “ticking clock” comes down to scenes of the gang’s hackers and Dark Web business facilitators staying one step ahead of the over-matched cyber-police trying to prevent a flood of cocaine and “Super Molly” from pouring into China.

The mob’s code, expressed by a lieutenant who’d rather die that talk, is “Glory to those who put honor over profit. Shame to those who put profit over honor.”

The cops? They debate their “sense of purpose” when they’re not letting Lam and others off, even though they have them in custody after bloody shootouts where policemen have died.

No, they didn’t catch them “red handed” and online, which is much more serious. Apparently.

“I Did It My Way” has one fine martial arts throwdown which stands out among the utterly generic shootouts, which are numerous.

The characters are thinly sketched in, even if the leads manage something approaching two dimensional.

The film reeks of sexism, never moreso than when the mob lawyer deigns to hide his much younger pregnant bride’s (Yase Liu) eyes as bullets and mayhem rain down on them. Hey, she knew what she was marrying into. And she’s been hiding her pregnant smoking from you, chief, in case you didn’t know.

Here, that’s what amounts to a minor sin. Because when everybody on every side (Let’s not forget the Westerners supplying this trade, Colombians among them) is doing it “their” way, there really isn’t any room for judgement, negotiation or any sort of moral high ground.

Rating: unrated, graphic violence, torture, profanity

Cast: Andy Lau, Ka-Tung Lam, Yase Liu, Philip Keung, Hedwig Tam, Simon Yam and Eddie Peng.

Credits: Directed by Jason Kwan, scripted by Juan Huang and Phoebe Zhao. A Well Go USA release.

Running time: 1:55

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Classic Film Review: Not all Hackman “classics” are created equal — “The Domino Principle” (1977)

Some vintage cinema you begin watching with the idea that you’re to see a “classic” featuring an Oscar winner, a famed producer/director and a handful of legends of the big and small screen. And some of those movies remind you that the legal definition of a “classic” car in any state is any vehicle that’s over twenty-five years old.

That’s it. It’s just the age, not the quality, that denotes “classic.”

The passing of screen legend Gene Hackman just before this year’s Academy Awards ceremony added poignancy to that event’s annual “In Memoriam,” and sent a lot of cinephiles out beating the streaming service bushes for titles he starred in that we’d missed.

Hackman made a lot of servicable thrillers and dramas over the decades, and a couple of decent comedies. And, as those of us who check in on “Company Business,” “Split Decisions,” the later “Superman” films, “Lucky Lady,” “The Chamber” or “Welcome to Mooseport” can attest, he took on a lot of work that paid well, but which was never going to come off.

Crusading producer-director Stanley Kramer was the conscience of Hollywood for much of his career, touching on race (“The Defiant Ones,””Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner?”), American nativism and backwardness of the anti-science variety (“Inherit the Wind”) and the dangers of nuclear war (“On the Beach”).

It’s safe to say that by the time Kramer produced and directed “The Domino Principle,” he’d lost his fastball and maybe his changeup. A deathly dull post-Watergate “Big Conspiracy” thriller about how “they” find and control assassins and manipulate regional and world events through murder, it’s “Winter Kills” without the satiric laughs, “The Conversation” without suspense.

And Hackman, playing Tucker, aVietnam vet/sharpshooter in prison for murder, is at something less than his best in a creaky, corny, old fashioned riff on the paranoia that was rampant in the cinema of the ’70s.

Tucker apparently killed his wife’s ex and is facing 15 more years in prison for it, locked up with a veteran con (Mickey Rooney), trying to “read” his nervous warden (Ken Swofford) when he’s told he must take a “little talk” with this fellow “who might be able to help you.”

Tucker is wary of the suited Tagge (Richard Widmark), who is full of questions about his crime, his service, etc., and not forthcoming with many answers to Tucker’s queries. By the time he’s chatting with Tagge’s subordinate (Edward Albert), Tucker’s a tad testy.

“They,” as his cellmate refers to such men, offer to get Tucker out. What they “want” in return is something he can’t get out of them.

They do get him out, reunite him with his wife (Candice Bergen) and set them up under new identities in Central America. And then “they” come calling again. And this general (Eli Wallach) who works with them is all business.

The film’s most chilling scene comes when Tucker, throwing his leverage weight around one last time, tries to get out of whatever “deal” they have in mind. He’s dropped at a police station, only to have an LTD barrel past him with the muffled screams of his wife, her terrified face staring at him through the rear window as it shoots off into the night.

But “chilling” moments are few and far between, and that signature scene comes over an hour into this 100 minute thriller. From the get-go, Kramer gets it wrong.

The film opens with a creakily old-fashioned news photo/footage montage narrated by a stentorian voice who references Franz Kafka and conspiracies and asks “Who’s BEHIND them?” Kramer is hell-bent on throwing subtlety to the wind for this sermon on how “the world” really works.

“You’re a pair of hands” to wrap around a rifle, Rooney’s Spiventa warns. “They OWN you.”

Everything about the film feels studio system antiquated — from the canned sound effects to the looped dialogue of conversations filmed at a slight distance to theatricality of the performances.

Rooney’s presence parks the picture in an earlier epoch, but the actors alone cannot give it the grit and nervous energy of the great cinema of the ’70s.

The third act action features some pretty serious stunts and explosions, but Kramer dawdled away more than an hour to launch into the thrills, and by that time the viewer’s already called a code on this corpse.

Hackman did action pictures into his ’60s, and almost all of them were better than this. Curiously, he worked with the almost-as-tall-as-him Bergen three times, on “The Hunting Party,” “Bite the Bullet” and this one. Those are among Hackman’s worst reviewed outings.

Even the title of this adaptation of an Adam Kennedy novel seems ill-considered. It’s a clumsy variation of Cold War era “domino theory.”

“The bigger the stink, the more there is to cover up,” Widmark’s Tagge explains, rationalizing assassinations for those who want them to happen. “And the man who worries the most is the man who gave the original order. If he panics, the dominoes start to fall.”

If you want to see Big Conspiracies rendered in broader, more entertaining strokes, watch “Winter Kills.” And if you want to see the late great Gene Hackman in a prime part, pick another movie — almost any other movie — instead of “The Domino Principle,” which is one of his worst.

Rating: R, violence, profanity

Cast: Gene Hackman, Candice Bergen, Richard Widmark, Edward Albert, Eli Wallach and Mickey Rooney.

Credits: Directed by Stanley Kramer, scripted by Adam Kennedy, based on his novel. An AVCO Embassy release on Tubi, other streamers.

Running time: 1:40

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Movie Review: Keaton, Lulu and Hodge taste the benefits of “Arthur’s Whisky”

Of all the “Mad Money,” “Poms” and “Book Club” trifles that Oscar winner Diane Keaton has made since stardom faded, “Arthur’s Whisky” might be the most trifling.

But this British nothing of a “fountain of youth” comedy manages to go down easily, despite or even thanks to its triviality.

Patricia Hodge, a mainstay of British TV (“All Creatures Great and Small,” the latest version), the singing sprite Lulu (“To Sir with Love”) and Keaton play three longtime friends who benefit from an elixir invented by Joan’s (Hodge) husband, who was promptly struck by lightning in his “Eureka!” moment.

How convenient. The entire screenplay’s a set of such conveniences.

We never learn how the three mismatched personalities met, never “get” the connection, for instance. It’s just there.

And when they drink this “whisky” that makes them young (Emse Lonsdale, Hannah Howland and Genevieve Gaunt give their all to impersonating Hodge, Lulu and Keaton in the bloom of youth), their “bucket list” of things they’d like to manage before they die, things they can survive that they’re young again, is inane and banal when it isn’t bathetic.

Hodge’s Joan doesn’t seem to miss her newly-dead husband (Ossian Perret) that much when he goes. There’s a reason for that. The American Linda (Keaton) has an ex she’s determined to get even with. Susan (Lulu) never married. Perhaps that’s something she can pull off once she’s a younger version of her cute self.

They stumble across the whisky and immediately set out to avail themselves of all the perks of youth — slang, clubbing, coffee shop hangs where they quaintly order Earl Grey tea, flirting and um, waxing — “Brazilian, Hollywood, Bikini or ‘landing strip?'”

Joan resolves to revisit an affair of her youth. Suze meets a handsome Venezuelan food truck owner (Adil Ray, not the most convincing “Venezuelan”). Linda wreaks havoc on her cheating ex’s new romance.

They travel, check off items from their “bucket list,” and manage all this even though this “whisky” has effects that wear off quickly.

The extent of the “message” to all this is “You’re never too old to become young.”

Cute bits include a vicar who can’t be bothered to get details right at funerals and the various eternal pick-up lines the ladies hear when they decide to “club” with the kids.

“Here I am. What’re your other two wishes?”

A bucket list trek to Vegas is an excuse to visit a drag revue that hosts a Boy George concert.

Lulu steals the picture — petty theft, in this case — and Gaunt gives us a fun, younger take on Keaton.

And that’s kind of how all this goes — “surprises” that aren’t, “bad news” that is almost expected and a tinkerer’s de-aging “whisky” which they never bother to investigate or try to replicate because who’d be bothered with a little thing like finding the formula?

Despite all that, the cast is pleasant and the Walton-on-Thames locations pretty. Of all the bad movies Keaton’s kept active with over the past 20 years, this may be the least of the lot. It’s certainly the least grating.

Rating: 16+, adult themes

Cast: Patricia Hodge, Lulu, Emse Lonsdale, Hannah Howland, Genevieve Gaunt, Boy George, Adil Ray, and Diane Keaton

Credits: Directed by Stephen Cookson, scripted by Alexis Zegerman. A Sky Original/Vertical release on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:34

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Netfixable? Beware of anything the Germans deem “Delicious”

Writer-director Nele Mueller-Stöfen’s “Delicious” hides its secrets well. But if you’re observant, the clues pile up long before the thriller’s too-patient build-up drops its big revelations on you.

She’s tapping into international inequality in this horrific tale of German “haves” who have gained the notice of pan-European have-nots. And as we see and hear a group of employees at a posh French hotel ponder if they’re “rich enough” to be worth their trouble, we develop expectations about what’s to come.

Is this a “Parasite” variation, with the working class/working poor simply pilfering from and squatting on the rich? Is it another “Funny Games,” where they’re punished for their greed-gotten affluence? A Baader Meinhof kidnapping? Or is it something worse?

You have no idea. But you will once you start looking at that occasionally glimpsed “gang” and the predelictions and manipulations of its cunning Spanish housekeeper/leader, the obvious becomes obvious.

Valerie Pachner stars as born-rich corporate IT guru who brings her husband (Fahri Vardim) and children (Naila Schuberth and Caspar Hoffman) on vacation to her family’s villa in the south of France.

But to get there, they have to be driven through the latest notorious round of French street protests, this time over income inequality and soaring food costs.

“Those people don’t care about us,” biologist-dad John tells the kids. If “care” broadly means “notice” in this case, John could not be more wrong.

Because when they arrive, unpack and go out to dinner at the restaurant of a swanky local hotel, some of the staff raises its eyebrows. Once enough conversations — including high-pressure business cell calls — have been overheard, the die is cast.

“A drink, for the road, on the house?”

That “innocent” offer sets a whole plot in motion that involves intentionally gashing ringleader Teodora’s (Carla Diaz) arm for the “accident” they let tipsy John think he’s driven into in the family’s Jaguar.

“No hospital” will be necessary, take-charge wife Esther says, when the panic subsides and she’s gotten her “This is why you shouldn’t drink and drive” (in German with subtitles, or dubbed) judgement snipe in.

Yes, and who got into the car with their KIDS after he’d been drinking, eh?

Esther’s band-aid first aid for an injury that A) needs stitches and B) which obsewrvant eleven year old Abby says “looks like a cut” by a knife, and a few hundred euros “bribe” sends Teodora on her way.

But she comes back. Of course she comes back. And as she’s noticed how sloppy the family is, with their villa housekeeper out of town, Teodora makes them a deal. She’ll be their housekeeper and cook, which gives her a place to stay as she was “let go” from her hotel job because of her “injury.”

“The long con” here has Teodora corrupting and winning the trust of the kids and working herself into a position where she can exploit rifts in this marriage of unequals. “Secrets” play to her advantage, as her seldom seen accomplices watch and wait.

The pacing here is somewhat ponderous as actress-turned-writer/director Mueller-Stöfen takes her sweet time setting her up “surprises.”

But the foreshadowing gives a lot away, and once you’ve gotten past “No, she wouldn’t” yes she will. And the only shock in that is elementary and generic.

Diaz makes a cryptic but not-exactly-compelling cunning planner/manipulator/seducer, and the rifts in the family are obvious to the point of melodramatic, with some so poorly set-up that they have to be explained away.

“Delicious” is creepy enough. The character flaws — obvious or occasionally subtle — intrigue.

But Mueller-Stöfen loses track of the “politics” of this variation on “The Menu,” and the picture has too little else going on that surprises or wins us over. The “battle of wits” is pretty one-sided. We end up investing in a slow-moving, low-heat thriller that never really comes to a boil.

Rating: TV-MA, violence, sex, alcohol abuse, profanity

Cast: Valerie Pachner, Carla Diaz, Fahri Vardim, Naila Schuberth and Caspar Hoffman.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Nele Mueller-Stöfen. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:42

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Movie Review: R. Patts is Labor at its Most Disposable — “Mickey 17”

Oscar winner Bong Joon Ho’s latest film is an arch sci-fi parable about the troubled world we live in.

An Earth-born colonist/laborer on the distant planet Nilfheim has been recruited by a charismatic but dimwitted poseur/ex-senator/cult-leader whose “propogate the species” enterprise features a bird mascot. Too on the nose?

The laborer was in a jam and needed to get off Earth in the worst way, and being pretty dumb himself, he didn’t read the fine print on his contract.

Mickey isn’t just to be exploited, dictated to and endangered on the four and a half year journey to Nilfheim. He’s an “expendable,” to be treated as a guinea pig, lab rat, worker drone and canary in a coal mine by his employers, who cavalierly let him die or kill him off on dangerous jobs only to 3D print/process a new version of him, a perfect copy in appearance and a wholly updated adult with all the memories, up to the week, of oafish Mickey Barnes.

Every time he’s killed on a spacewalk, purposely exposed to deadly radiation for study and slowly murdered by being forced to test the atmosphere of Nilfheim as a lab rat as Science finds a vaccine to save the other, more valuable colonists, Mickey’s “number” changes.

“Mickey 17,” who narrates his story from its narrative midpoint beginning, with flashbacks and a story that picks up and takes him to his epiphany and final fate, is the incarnation of this sad sack we become most familiar with.

Robert Pattinson, once the Timothee Chalamet of his day, plays the various Mickeys in a sort of Keanu Reeve stupor/Buster Keaton stoicism. Mickey is known to all of the other colonists, a hapless object of fun who faces just one question from these tactless cultists over and over again.

“What’s it feel like to DIE?”

Mickey found love on the long voyage out, a cop/detective/soldier “agent” named Nasha (Naomi Ackie of “Blink Twice”), who revels in experimenting with the digital Kama Sutra with pretty-but-dim Mickey.

Mickey regards Timo, the partner (Steven Yeun of “Minari” and “Nope”) who got him into that fix on Earth, and into a more terminal one in space, as his best friend. On a ship packed with the cruel and tactless, Timo is a particularly loathsome, callous creep who’s used his partner as a scapegoat and thinks no more of killing him or letting him die than he would an ant trapped in an unflushed toilet.

Their Dear Leader on this church-driven colonization is cheerleading cult leader Kenneth Marshall, an unseated senator who found a new hustle and is leading the faithful to their new homes on an ice-covered hellhole of a planet.

Mark Ruffalo makes this puffed up dunce half Trump, half Elon Musk, a “celebrity” whose cunning wife (Toni Collette) is in his ear, trying to steer him clear of this scandal or that ugly revelation about how he REALLY feels about his red baseball-capped clown car of colonists.

Another police agent (Anamaria Vartolomei) seems to have the sweets for Mickey, for reasons we can’t guess, and the only compassionate member of the careless, cretinous science team Dorothy (Patsy Ferran) also seems to care for his well-being.

Everybody else just uses and abuses this non-union loser as they see fit.

“Snowpiercer,” “The Host” and “Parasite” director Bong Joon Ho summons up memories of his least likable “hit” “Okja” with this icky, overlong wallow in “life is cheap for working folks around the world” allegory.

But in adapting Edward Ashton’s 2022 sci-fi novel “Mickey 7,” he references Big Idea films from “Brazil” to Chaplin’s “Modern Times,” even as he fails to find anything funny in the repeated deaths of R. Patts in an “Edge of Tomorrow” sense, a goof on that film’s “Let’s kill off a famous actor for laughs” humor.

Pattinson and the picture turn truly interesting when Mickey survives one expected death only to find he’s been regenerated as Mickey 18, a tougher, wise-to-his-exploitation and hellbent on avenging it “version” of the usually passive dullard Mickey is. There’s to be a struggle for Mickey’s place in reality between these mismatched two.

I loved all the threads Bong Joon Ho weaves into this narrative even as I lamented all the ones he leaves hanging. The narrative takes a “Close Encounters/Starship Troopers” turn that seems shoehorned in, reaches a half decent “Pandorum” climax and promptly wanders off into a stunning dull anti-climax.

Our writer-director leans on that lazy screen adapters crutch, voice-over narration, to carry too of the novel’s account of Mickey’s dreads and dreams and jokes about his plight.

“You read through the contract?” one and all ask Mickey as he signs on for a life of endless suicide missions destined to end badly. There’s a hint of generational angst as a guy who lost a lot of loan shark’s money on a macaron delivery business.

“I don’t have any skills,” Mickey admits. Might as well join a space colonization mission he’s sure to not survive — to repeatedly not survive.

But Pattinson is a sad but silly stitch in the title role. Ruffalo and Collette dial up their villainy and Ackie sexes things up even if Yeun seems a tad lost and miscast, too subtle and straight-laced for a farce this broad.

Sure, “Mickey 17” waters down its messaging by broadening that message to Netflix mini-series extremes (a better place for this movie, I fear). But if the movies are going to talk about labor, human rights, cruel “leaders” and love in the world Gen Z is growing up in, the raw deal facing Mickeys 1-17 is a good place to do it.

Rating: R, violence, sexual content, drug abuse, profanity

Cast: Robert Pattinson, Naomi Ackie, Steven Yeun, Patsy Ferran, Mark Ruffalo and Toni Collette.

Credits: Scripted and directed by Bong Joon Ho, based on a novel by Edward Ashton. A Warner Brothers release.

Running time: 2:17

Bond

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Movie Review: When Ireland isn’t Enough, “The Problem with People”

A couple of top flight character actors — Irish mainstay Colm Meaney and American kvetcher Paul Reiser — pair up for an Irish comedy about family history, inheritance, grudges and cultures clashing in “The Problem with People.”

It’s got the sunny, soaked summery greens of Ireland, a friendly pub and colorful locals going for it. And you can’t make a credible comedy about Ireland without Meaney.

But the problem with “The Problem with People” is a script by people who don’t seem to “get” Ireland, who then cook up clunky reasons to pair these two “cousins” up and contrive clunkier concerns that drive them apart. Their research appears to have consisted of watching other movies about Americans in Ireland. Or um, Scotland.

There are grace notes — a lovely memory recited by the old man (Des Keogh) responsible for throwing these two distant relations together illustrated by charcoal sketched animation and black and white photos of a long ago rift in the family.

The American (Reiser) is convinced to go by his daughter, who reminds him his favorite film is “Local Hero.”

“That’s Scotland. Whole other country.”

“What’s the difference?”

But the charms of quaint Tinahely, County Wicklow wear thin and after an hour of charming or at least flirting with charming, the picture collapses into a contrived conflict that neither works logically nor plays comically.

Meaney is Ciáran, whose ancient “Da” (Keogh) uses his deathbed to demand “the last request of a dying man,” that his son track down an American relation and put an end to “the whole sorry story” of how their extended family became separated 100 or more years ago.

Ciáran neglects the Gorman family funeral home business, leaving Padraig (Patrick Martins) in charge as he plows through all the Gormans in the New York directory until he hits on the developer Da told him was profiled in a magazine article a while back.

Barry (Reiser) is taken aback by the call. No, it’s not a “scam.” No, they don’t “want” anything. OK, actually, they do. Barry’s about to close a big deal on a 57th St. redevelopment, but sure, he’ll fly off to rural Ireland to fulfill “a dyin’ man’s last wish.” His daughter’s (Jane Levy) “Local Hero” argument seals the deal.

Barry and Ciáran get along grand, and there’s just enough local color to charm him and us — two local lads who imitate American accents and Americanisms based on what they’ve heard from the movies, the attentive barmaid (Lucianne McEvoy) Barry takes a shine to.

And then the old man, who summoned up the strength for one last night down’tha pub, dies, but not until after sentimentally rewriting his will. He leaves half his property to the rich New Yorker.

It’s a silly conceit that might have worked had they played up how ridiculous and against-the-grain of such stories this rash act is. Instead, we’re with Ciáran, who’s in a fury over the way Americans grieve and the way Americans greed.

The picture has inane tit for tat escalations, a town dividing up to take sides and none of it making much screenwriterly sense as the whole enterprise goes plumb off the rails.

The moral of the story, that “it’s mighty easy to fall out, but the weight of carrying” a grudge “forward can be too great,” is trite and the forms the illogical feud takes — in the past and in the present — spoil the potential fun.

As we watch Reiser and the redheaded Levy (of “Evil Dead” “and TV’s “Zoey’s Extraordinary Playlist”) gnosh on Manhattan Chinese food and debate Irish motivations and a family murky past, with Reiser dipping into his “This is what I’m saying” shtick, the movie hints at something wittier that might have been.

Would it have been funnier to have the American Gormans as Jewish, via marriage, conversions and what not? THAT’s a culture clash with real friction — hopefully funny — in it.

“Mad About You” alum Reiser does New York Jewish well, Irish American distantly removed, not so much. The reasons for avoiding that subject area include steering clear of stereotypes, not that Reiser and co-writer Wally Marzano-Lesnevich do a bang up job with that, either.

More local color and more colorful locals might have helped, with a better root conflict than a blase battle over real estate and a will. Otherwise, this sweet nothing loses the “sweet” and never overcomes the “nothing.”

Rating: 16+, profanity, alcohol

Cast: Colm Meaney, Paul Reiser, Jane Levy, Des Keogh and
Lucianne McEvoy

Credits: Directed by Chris Cottam, scripted by Wally Marzano-Lesnevich and Paul Reiser. A Quiver release on Amazon Prime.

Running time:

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