Movie Review: A Veteran adjusts to Civilian Life with “My Dead Friend Zoe”

Perhaps only an Iraq War combat vet would dare to tackle Post Traumatic Stress Disorder with the sort of sarcasm and gallows humor of “My Dead Friend Zoe.”

Director and co-writer and ex-paratrooper Kyle Hausmann-Stokes’ film’s title character is a cynical smart-ass, a female veteran and a ghost. Zoe is, as advertised, “Dead.”

Zoe, given just enough edge by Natalie Morales, has the license to call her service in Afghanistan “the dumbest war of all time,” the sass to suggest she and her fellow GI trooper/ mechanic Merit (Sonequa Martin-Green) “watch ‘M*A*S*H’ again,” but this time not “as a drinking game” and the impatience to refer to the group therapy they attend back home as “kumbaya” nonsense.

But Merit is the one physically there at therapy. Dead Zoe is the snide commentator in her head and the ongoing presence in her life, and the most important thing Merit won’t talk about in “group,” no matter how much the doctor and Vietnam vet in charge (Morgan Freeman) demands it.

“My Dead Friend” is a nice showcase for constantly-employed TV actress Morales (“Parks and Rec,” Grey’s Anatomy,” “The Morning Show”). But it’s a star vehicle for “Walking Dead” alumna and “Star Trek: Discovery” lead Martin-Green.

It is Merit who must hide the “dead” friend she still communes with, among other unspoken traumas of her service. She does this while in court-ordered group therapy, something that’s interrupted when she has to care for her testy, “wandering” and increasingly forgetful grandfather and role model, a retired Lt. Col. played by Ed Harris.

That tells us this script is deep enough to attract talent, even as it gives Zoe and Merit Rihanna sing-alongs at work, even as Zoe serves up therapy-is-for-thee-but-not-for-me tough gal sarcasm softballs, even as she’s mocking Merit’s home state.

“Isn’t Oregon known for its serial killers?”

Freeman, who is as empathetic as he’s ever been on screen and the tightly-wound side of Harris lend the picture extra gravitas. But none of this would work if Martin-Green didn’t have the bearing of a soldier, one who has seen and experienced things. Compulsive jogging and visits to a cemetery are Merit’s coping mechanisms.

Introducing a possible love interest (“Pitch Perfect” alumnus Utkarsh Ambudkar) doesn’t add much that feels necessary, when layers of the Merit-Zoe connection and disconnection are left hanging. But even these mysteries benefit the film as we can infer “this” and understand without knowing “that.”

And Freeman’s doctor gives voice to talking therapy’s one essential truth in facing the many shades of PTSD, that one must “think very seriously about whether living in the past is worth it.”

Stay through the credits if you want to see how important this subject is, with or without jokes only those who’ve been through it truly “get.”

Rating: R, combat stress subject matter, profanity

Cast: Sonequa Martin-Green, Natalie Morales, Ed Harris, Gloria Ruben, Utkarsh Ambudkar and Morgan Freeman

Credits: Directed by Kyle Hausmann-Stokes, scripted by Kyle Hausmann-Stokes and A.J. Bermudez. A Briarcliffe release.

Running time: 1:38

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Movie Review: Cupid lets Mexican Couple Break Up in the Past, “With You in the Future (Contigo en el futuro)”

The Mexican romantic fantasy “With You in the Future” pretty much blows the “fantasy” part of its equation.

A sentimental “Peggy Sue Got Married/It’s a Wonderful Life” riff with a sprinkling of “Back to the Future,” “Contigo en el futuro” is about a couple whom Cupid revisits when they’re in the process of splitting up their belongings and abandoning their their twenty+ years of marriage.

Cupid, who “never f—s up,” offers them a mixtape from their youth and gives them “five songs” that they’ll hear that night to sort out erasing their present by interrupting their pasts.

“We’re like ‘The Terminator!'” Carlos insists to Elena, and Elena insists to Carlos. It’s a clumsy device that hobbles the film’s opening act and allows Cupid to overwhelm its finale.

But the sentiment in between is so winning it almost compensates for that. Writer-director Robert Girault taps into that universal cinematic truth — that for all the pain that life and romance hold, it’s always better to have lived, loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

Elena (Sandra Echeverría, radiant) dreamed of musical fame in her youth. She fell for Carlos (Michel Brown, brooding) and a conventional home and family. The day we meet her, she’s putting post it notes on everything she’s claiming in their house. He comes home to discover that he’s not just given her the house, but she’s taking most everything else as well.

That’s what happens when you say “I don’t want anything that reminds me of ‘us'” (in Spanish, with English subtitles) in the heat of the moment.

One thing they agree on? “Cupid got it wrong.”

But the ancient cherub (Mauricio Barrientos, not quite funny) who interrupted “my first vacation in 500 years” to haunt them would beg to differ. He “never f—s up,” he insists, more than once. Still, he gives them the mix tape and drives his new Corvette into the past, a Valentine’s Day in the early ’90s when teen Carlos (Fernando Cattori) met skating lead singer Elena (Mariané Cartas) of Elena and the Skates at his girlfriend’s Valentine’s Day party.

Carlos and Elena from the present will show up at that party and torment, trick, hoodwink and commit armed robbery to keep their youthful selves from falling in love.

Carlos from the present knows the history of soccer over the last 20+ years, which he might share with his dorky, sports gambling former “wingman,” Chickless (Harold Azuara, funny) if the aptly-named Chickless gives him a hand. And adult Carlos knows his life would have been easier had he stayed with his rich and connected girlfriend Cristina (Aminta Ireta) way back when.

Elena has the pain of present day loss and wondering “what might have been” had she stuck with pop music.

A cute touch here is that a key moment in their romantic past was meeting at a rock concert by the legendary Mexican band Maná, which by the way, was just announced as the first Mexican band up for admission to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

There are other cute touches, and funny bits in that Valentine’s Day party. And every so often, the script and the way the players perform it punches us right in the heart. The older leads grasp what they’re losing, the younger ones remind us of that first blush of true love.

Some such moments are surprises here, and some we see coming. But getting that part of this Back to the Romantic Past to End Our Romantic Future right makes a stumbling story of Cupid as God of Love fixing all that ails a couple perfectly bearable, and occasionally damned sweet.

Rating: TV 16+, gunplay, profanity

Cast: Sandra Echeverría, Mariané Cartas, Michel Brown, Fernando Cattori, Harold Azuara and Mauricio Barrientos

Credits: Scripted and directed by Roberto Girault. An MGM release on Amazon Prime.

Running time: 1:31

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Classic Film Review: Herzog’s “Cannes Darling” “Woyzek” (1979)

The great German director Werner Herzog and his muse, Klaus Kinski, marched through three films together in their peak years, 1978-82.

“Nosferatu the Vampyr” was a hit, and “Fitzcarraldo” was a career-defining epic for both director and star, an ordeal recognized, then and now, as a landmark of filmmaking megalomania and madness.

“Woyzek” was a small, inexpensive film tucked into the days just after production of “Nosferatu” wrapped. It was the quintessential “Cannes darling,” a movie celebrated at the film festival famous for its “groupthink” moments and breathless endorsements of movies that were never destined to thrive or even be heralded outside of the Cannes bubble.

“Woyzeck” can be appreciated today as Herzog’s “Rope” or “Psycho,” a minimalist parable with long takes and few edits, a filmmaking-on-the-cheap “experiment” from a filmmaker whose dreams were turning grandiose. The technical experiment doesn’t really pay off, although the long takes build tension as we subconsciously wait for a scene to pay off and an edit to release that scene and that tension.

But the story, adapted from the oft-staged and filmed play “fragment” by Georg Büchner, is simple to the point of simplistic, harsh and obvious and primitive and perhaps the least satisfying Herzog theatrical film of his earliest years.

A character portrait of a downtrodden, humiliated, under-promoted and unappreciated soldier in a 19th century provincial village, a man who descends into madness and murder over his lover’s infidelity, it’s appreciated as a near masterwork of German theatrical literature, one taught in German schools. In the hands of Herzog and a wild-eyed, foaming at the mouth performance by Kinski, it’s about as deep as a puddle and subtle as a cudgel.

The 40 year-old infantry private Woyzek (Kinski) is fast-marched into the frame as his introduction. His movements are played back in fast-motion, his face comically contorted with pain and fear.

Woyzek is disregarded by his captain (Wolfgang Reichmann), who has him shining his shoes and shaving him, a manservant in uniform. The local doctor (Willy Semmelrogge) has experiments in mind he might perform (for pay) on this lowest-of-the-low soldier on a dead-end career path.

The village doesn’t exactly shun Woyzeck. But he and his live-in-lover Marie (Eva Mattes) had a child out of wedlock, so they’re not blessed by the church.

As all the pressures of menial work, outsider status and assorted quack diet “experiments” by the doctor build up, Woyzeck realizes Marie is cheating on him with a handsome drum major (Josef Bierbichler). The private can’t even gain satisfaction from the man who is cuckolding him, as the drum major beats Woyzeck up when he’s accused.

This isn’t going to end happily.

The period detail is folk-tale perfect, but this narrative of oppression, revenge and madness plays out like an opera everyone in the audience can sing along with. It’s silent-cinema simple, with dialogue that rarely adds to our understanding of the obvious.

“I’d rather have a knife in my body than your hand on me,” Marie tells the father of her child (in German with English subtitles). That’s short enough to fit on a title card in the silent cinema, and foreshadowing at its most elementary.

Mattes doesn’t give much color to Marie, but still won Best Actress honors at the 1979 Cannes Film Festival. The “villains” here are bland archetypes.

But Kinski brings his usual savage commitment to this broken man fast-marching towards his doom.

With Büchner’s genius-who-died-young status in German letters, there’s debate about the plot turns “added” to this unfinished play and other ways it’s been edited, staged and filmed over the decades. Erring on the side of “logical” in determing the story’s course and outcome definitely renders “Woyzeck” less interesting than the madman-in-the-making that Kinski portrays.

Herzog somewhat downplays “Woyzeck” in his working-with-Kinksi documentary “My Best Fiend,” noting that Kinski was distracted and exhausted coming straight from “Nosferatu” to this role (they were filmed weeks apart) without mentioning that he himself was lurching from directing a demanding film to this far less demanding one.

One can appreciate the economy of budget and attempts at a new “style” that Herzog brought here. But unless you’re a count-the-27-edits obsessive, about the best one can say for this is he shot his “Rope” “Psycho” cheap and quick, and Kinski never disappoints.

And where is “Fitzcarraldo” streaming these days? There’s a tale of doom and madness worth sinking one’s teeth into.

Rating: unrated, violence, sexual situations

Cast: Klaus Kinski, Eva Mattes, Wolfgang Reichmann, Willy Semmelrogge and Josef Bierbichler’s

Credits: Scripted and directed by Werner Herzog, based on an unfinished play by Georg Büchner. A New Yorker Films release now on Tubi, other streamers.

Running time: 1:22

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Netflixable? The Hallmarkish charms of “La Dolce Villa”

You have to get past the sneaky feeling that the rom-com “La Dolce Villa” wasn’t just conceived and rigidly scripted according to “Hallmark” formula, but by some new AI that the greeting card company rents out to production companies.

Find a hunky, just-past-50 TV star as your lead, a “Pretty Little Liars” alumna willing to go “perky” and play the sweet, naive daughter and a lovely age-appropriate-but-unknown-in-North America Italian leading lady.

Park them in a scenario that involves such middle-age passions as home renovation and food, and set the whole enterprise in the most scenic, quaint and ancient Italian town (San Gregorio da Sassola) you can find, and you’ve got yourself a winner.

That “get past” is a big ask in a wish-fulfillment fantasy that’s about as surprising as a calzone, as original as pizza and as romantic and chaste as a 1960s romance novel. It’s Hallmarkish to the point of mawkish. All that’s missing is a Christmas tree or three.

But it plays. Scott Foley, a TV regular from “Dawson’s Creek” to “Felicity” to “Scandal” anchors it all in a sort of bland, dreamy unreality and there’s just enough scenery, “local color” and cooking to let this “It’ll all work out, we just know it” pass the time.

Foley plays Eric, a consultant who travels to Italy to check in on his drifting, hasn’t-found-her-purpose daughter. Olivia (Maia Reficco) is out of college, nannying, olive-picking and Renaissance Fairing her way through Europe. Part of a genration with “no job security, no health insurance” and stuck in a country that keeps voting itself further away from fixing that, she’s decided to buy a house in a shrunken, aged Italian village and make her life there.

It’s not as “trust fund baby” as all that, although we hear there is indeed a “trust fund” that her dead mom (another Hallmark cliche) left her. She’s buying an abandoned house for one euro in scenic but dying-out Montezera.

Dad’s efforts to intervene in this “insanity” meet Olivia’s determination to go through with it, and Mayor Francesca’s (Violante Placido) too-helpful “Let’s make this happen” attentions. The house shopping commences, as abandoned villas are totally a thing in dying-out rural Italy.

Sure, “We’ve got a renovation genius” (Simone Luglio) in town. Just one, though. Sure, the Italian “permit” bureaucracy is daunting. But Bernardo (Giusseppe Futia) is all over that. He’d like to be all over the mayor, whom he’s sweet on.

Sure, enough people there speak American English so that Olivia’s obsession with “vibing” is understood with many an Italian reassuring her “I got you.”

Wouldn’t you know it, “consultant” Eric used to be a chef and “consults” on restaurant operations. He’s swept up — a little — by the food. And this house? Maybe the “kitchen” has possibilities beyond a way-too-much-room-for-a-single-24-year-old’s “villa.”

Romantic complications abound in a story that doesn’t come close to committing to its first, best destiny — teaching a wound-up 50something workaholic the Italian “sweetness of doing nothing.” The sumptuous food is hinted at here and there, but that also lacks “commitment” by the screenplay.

“Are you seeing dollar signs again?” is as sharp as the criticism of the ever-so-American dad gets.

The home renovation stuff is sanitized for our protection. Makeup isn’t mussed, nary a hair it out of place, and our 20something tidies up a garden and helps with a little wall demolition without dirtying her belly shirt.

The cute little old gossips in the town square might have provided some seasoning, and Eric’s insistence that trips to Italy are “cursed” for his family is brought up and abandoned.

A script lacking surprises or true “tests” of its no-edge-at-all characters lacks drama, another hallmark of Hallmark-style romantic melodramas.

“Passes the time” is about as challenging as “La Dolce Villa” — the title’s a play on the Fellini classic “La Dolce Vita” (“The Sweet Life”) — gets. But it’s pretty enough and just engaging enough to suggest it might just become a series pilot.

And if that happens, you can bet they’ll get around to the Christmas trees.

Rating: TV-14, suggestions of intimacy

Cast: Scott Foley, Maia Reficco, Violante Placido, Simone Luglio, Giselle Gant and Giuseppe Futia

Credits: Directed by Mark Waters, scripted by Elizabeth Hackett and Hillary Galanoy. A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:39

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Movie Review: A Young Hitman is tested by “Old Guy” Christoph Waltz, his Mentor

Hitman thrillers long ago ran out of anything new to do with the genre, lapsing into glib sometime after “La Femme Nikita” back in the ’90s. Nowadays, “glib” isn’t enough. If you’re not aiming for “flippant” like 1974’s “Thunderbolt and Lightfoot,” why bother?

That’s the benchmark film of the “hitman and protege” subgenre, which is where “Old Guy” tries to find a home.

It’s a hired-assassin and his protege thriller from B-movies-made-with-blockbuster-budgets specialist Simon West (“Con Air,” “The Mechanic”), whose lean decades have include “Wild Card,” “Stratton”and “Skyfire.”

As Christoph Waltz has the title role and Lucy Liu’s in it, and it’s set (mostly) in Ireland, it can’t be all bad, right? “Not terrible” about covers it. “Kind of sloppy” is a given.

Waltz is an aged Polish emigre named Dolinski who has finally recovered from the joint-fusion surgery that “cured” his inability to pull the trigger with any confidence. But his boss in “London” (Ann Akinjirin) is all about “a youth movement, across the board.”

Enter young American Wihlborg (Cooper Hoffman). He’s a “prodigy” in this profession, a gauche, tactless teetolater who dresses loudly and is known for killing a few “innocent bystanders” every time he pulls the trigger.

The “Old Guy” with 30 years experience, someone with polish and cunning, even if he’s not as on his game as he once was, is ordered to train his replacement.

“Mr. Millenial? Gen Z? Who can tell the difference?” He has “a lot to learn” from the disco-dancing alcoholic whom the kid assumes can’t miss his “morning nap.”

A twist — the “Old Guy” really has lost his fastball, at least as far as the first act is concerned. But all sorts of scripted shortcomings, cute touches and foreshadowing are tossed away early on, blandly setting us up for a “suicide mission” and its consequences finale.

It’s fun seeing Waltz lose himself on the dance floor as a conflicted character who is often blitzed to his gills. He disabuses the booze, drugs and carbs-avoiding youngster of any delusions Wilhborg has about their “craft.”

“We’re no artists. We’re sanitation workers, taking out the trash.

But Dolinski has his own delusions, about “never killing anyone who didn’t have it coming.” As “London” is all about taking over “Belfast,” that ethos is about to get tested.

Waltz is kind of fun in the part, as he inevitably is. He tries to give the guy a little humanity, which registers in a sort of ironic way. Liu plays his old friend from a London karaoke bar, and has just a couple of scenes to make a (humorless) impression.

Young Hoffman? He’s a bit lacking in the charisma/screen magnetism thing. The character is blandly written, and the son of Philip Seymour Hoffman can’t find anything colorful — other than wardrobe — to make this guy remotely interesting.

Our screenwriter has only the most facile grasp of the current “generation gap” and those Hoffman’s Wihlborg is supposed to represent, and the writing repeatedly gives this away.

As the film punches through decent stalking session and a couple of good shoot-outs, we’re grateful for the Irish locations if not the mostly colorless villains.

Waltz usually compensates for that, but his burden is too heavy here, and the screenplay and supporting cast offer too little help.

Rating: R, graphic violence, drug abuse, sexual situations, profanity

Cast: Christoph Waltz, Cooper Hoffman, Ann Akinjirin, Tony Hurst, Rory Mullen and Lucy Liu

Credits: Directed by Simon West, scripted by Greg Johnson. An Avenue release.

Running time: 1:33

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Series Review: A Canadian Comic Moves to a Farm — “Tom Green Country”

The Canadian cut-up Tom Green was always an acquired taste.

He showed up on the Canadian comedy scene post-“Second City,” a young self-promoting prankster who got “The Tom Green Show” on fringe Canadian TV and then MTV, making a name for himself for his manic, goofy persona, unfiltered mouth and his sometimes off-color pranking.

At its “best,” The Tom Green Show” was “Young Benny Hill gives birth to ‘Jackass.'”

In his peak years, Green ventured into movies — kudos for paying Wikipedia to describe the fiasco “Freddy Got Fingered” as a “cult film, chief — hosted “Saturday Night Live,” married and divorced Drew Barrymore and survived testicular cancer.

As his career faded, he took shots at posing as a rapper, tried to be a talk show host, podcaster and stand up comic and kept his “brand” alive by doing documentaries about his life during this or that change in focus.

“Tom Green Country” is his latest venture. And considering the success of “Clarkson’s Farm,” Amazon picking this series up isn’t the stupidest money Jeff Bezos ever spent. It’s a comedian-takes-up-“hobby”-farming reality series. That could work.

Green tells us he sold a house in “the Hollywood Hills” and bought a quite primitive, old Ontario farm. It’s rustic as all get out, even if the log cabin he lives in has seemingly all the modern comforts. We see his elaborate TV/podcast production studio set up. Then we watch him have a new outhouse installed and wonder how much, if any, of this is “real.”

Green buys a custom-made henhouse to raise chickens and gets “instructed” on how it’s done. He samples one of the dead, dried meal worms that are their feed.

He buys a donkey and a mule, and learns about them and is taught how to ride.

He leans on hired assistance and the help of his once-pranked parents, Mary Jane and Richard, who show him how to raise asparagus with his mom calling him a “spoiled baby” for only wanting to eat the “soft tops.”

And Green wrote and sings the title tune, which is as “country” as it gets.

“Headin’ home to the country, to the place I’ve always been. Goodbye to California, and all the things I’ve seen. Goin’ back to Canada, to live my American dream…”

A lot of people with the money to do so — rich newspaper columnists among them — bought small farms when COVID brought the world to a halt. And those farms became column fodder and book pitches for some, video blogs for others.

So there’s little novelty to Green going “country.” The stakes are low, as he’s not making a living farming or trying to make a farm “pay” the way Jeremy Clarkson does in his far superior and funnier (and sadder) series.

Green picks up his companion/dog Charlie and carries her on stage with him for stand-up performances in small-cities and large all over Ontario. And we’re reminded again of that “acquired taste” thing. The shtick barely provokes so much as a smirk.

He’s not particularly original in his ’50s. Tom Green has aged into Red Green, a Red Green with a fondness for “poo” and “pee” jokes and lots of F-bombs.

The best way to describe the show comes from his mother, who gives him “notes” on his attempts at humor, suggesting his comic instincts have faded. He tries to say something funny and then “belabors” the joke, Mom reminds him.

Always listen to Mom, Tom Green.

The hobby farm is lovely — not sure where it is, but he grew up in Pembroke, and Lyndhurst is also mentioned — and my favorite bit from it was having an Ontario wildlife official help him set up a wildlife camera where they spy bears, porcupines, raccoons and wolves on the property.

But the sucky stand-up, limp “interviews” (an unfunny, delusional “Sasquatch” expert) and aged out of his brand Green don’t give this show much of a future.

Rating: TV-MA, profanity, scatological humor

Cast: Tom Green,

Credits: Directed by Tom Green. An Amazon Prime release.

Running time: four episodes (+?) @:30 minutes each

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Movie Review: There’s Always a way Out of a Jam when you’re “Trigger Happy”

“Trigger Happy” is a bloody-minded dark comedy that at least managed to get the “dark” right.

A stumbling misfire of a satire packed with repellent characters and rarely creative means of murder, it misses on most every level that matters. And while no cast could likely bring this to life, this one doesn’t exactly decorate their resumes with their work in this clunker.

Tyler Poelle plays George, a debt-riddled doofus in a dead marriage and a dead-end job — waiting tables for a bully (Caitlin Duffy) who inherited her mom’s diner.

Wife Annie (Elsha Kim) is an aspiring actress whose aspirations seem limited to landing an info-mercial. Even when she lands one, she’s not contributing. It’s “non-union,” non-paying.

“I get paid in EXPERIENCE!”

At least George has a job. Mikey (Matt Lowe) is unemployed, throwing himself into making and eating pies and growing less attractive by the minute to his hot school principal wife Gemma (Christina Kirkman), who is A) Annie’s bestie and B) cheating with the “hot skiy diving instructor” Tye (Kevin Kreider).

In this alternate universe where the Department of Gun Ubiquity ensures firearms are everywhere, and “required” to get things like health insurance, George sees two ways out. One, he can win the lottery, which he plays religiously. Or two, he can kill his wife, collect the insurance and escape to the Bahamas.

George isn’t creative at all when it comes to ways to unload Annie. He isn’t even all that good at hiding his intentions or frame of mind.

“I have never felt more ‘hinged,'” should convince no one.

About the only shock laugh in director/co-writer Tiffany Kim Stevens’ “romp” comes when a monstrous, dart-gun wielding tween gets what she has coming to her.

The script is minimalist dreck, telegraphing its limited supply of “moves” and botching murders, attempts at murder and fantasizing about murder.

No turn of events or twisted character connects, clicks or delivers anything funny or that even justifies sticking around for the end.

Rating: violence, sex

Cast: Tyler Poelle, Elsha Kim, Christina Kirkman, Caitlin Duffy, Matt Lowe, Kevin Kreider and Tre Hall

Credits: Directed by Tiffany Kim Stevens, scripted by Daniel Moya and Tiffany Kim Stevens. A Gravitas Ventures release.

Running time: 1:26

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Davey Tennant & Co. set the Awards Show Bar “500 Miles” High

Well, this is delightful. And kilted. Kudos to Kendrick and Colman for helping David Tennant, Helen Mirren and Brian Cox kick it up a notch at this year’s BAFTAs.

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Classic Film Review: A late life James Earl Jones gem is restored — “The Annihilation of Fish”

One of the first accomplishments of the then newly-created National Film Registry was to rescue the work of Black indie filmmaker Charles Burnett.

The Registry was Created by the Library of Congress in 1988 and set up to “preserve” as “”culturally, historically or aesthetically significant films.” Burnett’s “Killer of Sheep” was among the first 25 movies deemed endangered and worthy of recognition and preservation. That film stood out in that initital list because it was only ten years old, a little-seen indie film before “indie” was a thing, and was destined to vanish if no attention was called to it and its merits weren’t acknowledged.

Burnett’s still making films and remains almost as obscure as ever. But his small output over the decades has its gems, “To Sleep With Anger” among them.

“The Annihilation of Fish” is the only comedy he’s tried, a serio-comic character study in eccentricity. This slight but sweet 1999 film, a late career highlight of James Earl Jones, Lynn Redgrave and Margot Kidder, all of whom have since died, is the UCLA-trained Burnett’s How to Make an Indie Film primer to the generations of filmmakers that follow him.

Get a script with wildly colorful older characters, roles with range and good dialogue that shows they have something to say. Pitch it to under-employed older actors with names still big enough that they will get the movie financed. That approach got “Annihilation” financed and filmed, although few got a chance to see it when it was finished.

Kino Lorber has restored this film festival darling of the last millenium and given it a limited re-release in cinemas before streaming it so that it might finally find an audience. “Slight” it may be, but it’s well worth a look.

Jones plays Fish, a Jamaican-American retiree who is a handful for any landlord. He’s a sad widower who lacks purpose, he feels. So he “wrassles” a demon almost on a daily basis, creating a ruckus as he shouts and tumbles about on the floor before temporarily vanquishing it by tossing it through a window.

Redgrave is Poinsettia, a San Francisco screwball whose great love is Giocamo Puccini. She swoons in his presence and drowns out performers of his operas as she sings along. She’s tried to marry him, but even in San Francisco, the “groom” must be “corporeal” and not an Italian composer who died in 1924.

These two delusional flakes are destined to connect at the boarding house of a Pasadena fellow traveler. Mrs. Muldroone (Kidder) is a widow obsessed with the spelling of her last name, and with a “weed” her late husband hated but which she cultivates in her immaculately kept garden.

Her “no peculiar habits” question to her prospective tenants isn’t serious. She has a few of her own.

Poinsettia drinks and often passes out in the hallway when she does. Fish gallantly takes her in, and after complaints at the effrontery of that, also noting the “weirdo’s” habit of wrestling with a literal demon, Poinsettia flowers in his presence.

“My loneliness has made me crazy,” she confesses to a card-playing companion who understands and sympathizes with her mania.

“Anybody can see the difference between ‘dead and gone’ and ‘dead and come back,'” he says of her passion for Puccini.

As for himself, Fish might never get over his “wrasslin.” But his daily mantra, delivered in a soft Jamaican patois, may change.

“At your age, why ain’t you dead?”

Lovely Pasadena makes a grand setting for this “Annihilation.” But there’s not much more to this than three lost souls finding comfort in one another, and three accomplished actors — two of them onetime Oscar nominees — sinking their teeth into juicy, colorful eccentrics.

Jones, who experienced a late career revival thanks to theatrical successes and films such as “Field of Dreams,” “A Family Thing” and other roles in the ’80s and ’90s, is in grand form.

Redgrave, decades removed from her “Georgy Girl” breakthrough, similarly had a last hurrah in her as this film and the Oscar nominated “Gods & Monsters” came out the same year.

And Kidder, summoned back from the obscurity that worsened her lifelong mental health issues, was at her best one more time in a film that went unseen when it was new.

Sentiment may be the rest reason to see “The Annihilation of Fish.” But three great performers committing to their parts will always be a pleasure, and the fact that each was beloved by generations makes this dramedy an easy sell for most film buffs.

Rating: R, some sexual content

Cast: James Earl Jones, Lynn Redgrave and Margot Kidder.

Credits: Directed by Charles Burnett, scripted by Anthony C. Winkler. A Kino Lorber re-release.

Running time: 1:48

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Movie (Documentary?) Preview: “Cheech & Chong’s Last Movie”

This looks sweet, a couple of old stoners mending fences and having the last laugh.

It smokes out April 25 (April 30 “previews”), and is basically self-distributed. So maybe it’ll be in a theater near you. Man.

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