You can tell it’s an Anderson picture within five seconds.
The kitschy production design and graphics, the voice over, the Michael Cera/Jeffrey Wright/Rupert-Riz riffs?
May 30. Expect to be tickled to death by a tale of oligarchs and terrorists and bystanders in the Cinematic Wes Andersonscape.
In search of some vintage laughs among the “classic” collections of my favorite streamers, I stumbled back into the great British playwright Tom Stoppard’s lone directing credit, his star-studded big screen adaptation of “Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead.”
I saw this when it was in theaters, and I’ve seen it and a couple of Stoppard’s lighter plays (“The Real Inspector Hound” comes to mind) on stage over the years. I love Tim Roth, Gary Oldman and Richard Dreyfuss, and bits of droll dialogue getting at the existential/absurdist point of it all linger in the memory.
“What are you playing at?”
“Words!”
But the funny thing about it now is that, wordplay or not, it’s quite slow, almost cumbersome. Perhaps I’m conflating pleasant memories of it with brisk and bright stage versions I’ve seen, but the 1990 film is not subtle about underscoring why one of our great playwrights and screenwriters (“Shakespeare in Love,” “Brazil,” “Empire of the Sun,” “Enigma,” “The Russia House”) only stepped behind the camera to direct once.
On screen, “Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead” is something of a drag. Stoppard could have used an editor who cut the film into something quicker and flashier. “Period detail” is nice, but lingering on shots of our tragicomic heroes in vast Elizabethan ballrooms and “Waiting for Godot” bleak exteriors slows the pace and waters down the wit.
But at least Dreyfuss seems to be having the time of his life, hamming it up and even adding tragi-comic depth to the leader of the troupe of players who figured in the Danish Prince Hamlet’s scheme to unmask his possibly murderous uncle, and who entertains and enlightens the doomed heroes of Stoppard’s career-making 1966 play.
“Generally speaking, things have gone about as far as they can possibly go, when things have gotten about as bad as they can reasonably get.”
Stoppard’s timeless conceit was in taking these peripheral figures from “Hamlet” and deconstructing the play, the plot, the themes and the psychology of it all through the eyes of two witty but not clever enough layabouts.
Hell, they can’t quite decide which of them is Rosencrantz (generally speaking, Oldman) and which is Guildenstern (Roth, mainly by default).
We meet them on Samuel Beckett’s existentially empty road, endlessly flipping a gold coin Rosencrantz finds, gambling on the stunning succession of “heads” that turn up and its relation to “the laws of probability,” “the law of diminishing returns” and “the redistribution of wealth.”
They have received a royal “summons,” and are making their way to Elsinore to meet with newly-crowned King Claudius (Donald Sumpter) and newly-married to Queen Gertrude (Joanna Miles), a wedding which has driven Hamlet (Iain Glen), her son by the newly-dead former king, mad.
Stumbling across a band of “tragedians,” our duo is subjected to a lot of banter of the “love, blood and rhetoric” in the hopes that they’ll pay for a performance — or a sexual dalliance, for pay — with a member of the single-sex cast.
Would they like to see “The Rape of the Sabine Women…or woman, or rather ‘Albert?‘”
Slipping away, they arrive at Elisnore and are given their charge by the king — renew their old friendship with the prince, find out what’s eating at him and let Claudius know what he’s planning.
Stoppard masterfully weaves this script into the Shakespeare play, with its scant Rosencrantz & Guildenstern scenes and their lone scene with Ophelia’s father, the faintly doddering Polonius (Ian Richardson). They watch the touring theatre troupe’s direction (by Hamlet) in their production of “The Murder of Gonzago,” transformed by Hamlet to play up what he suspects Claudius and his mother did to his father. And they’re even unwitting participants in the way Polonius meets his end.
The film may have a somewht lumbering quality, with even the smooth transitions feeling drawn-out. But the back-engineering of the play is brilliant, and forshadows Stoppard’s similarly clever touches in “Shakespeare in Love.”
And that wordplay tickles in every incarnation of this show.
“I think I have it! A man talking to himself is no matter than a man talking nonsense not to himself.”
“Or just as mad.”
“OR just as mad.”
“And he does both.“
“So there you are.”
“Stark raving sane.“
Oldman gives Rosencrantz depth beyond the befuddlement that seems his main character trait when first we meet him. And Roth quickly disabuses us of the notion that Guildenstern is the cagier, the more paranoid, “the smart one.”
And Dreyfuss, finishing up his peak years of stardom, leans into the theatricality of it all, and what grated in excessive performances such as his Oscar-bait turn in “Whose Life Is it Anyway?” is indulged to a delightful degree. He gets to sum up acting, Shakespeare and the theater’s obligations to audience expectations and whatever contrivances cooked up by the writer, reminding us “the play’s the thing.”
“We are tragedians, you see? We follow directions. There is no choice involved. The bad end unhappily, the good, unluckily. That is what tragedy means.”
The generations of horror stories writers tell of what a director, a studio or “Hollywood” did to one’s script explains Stoppard’s determination to get the play that made him on the screen the way he wanted it. But one cannot help but wonder if another set of eyes and ears — or two other sets — might have juiced the supporting cast, freshened the line readings (which can be perfunctory), tightened the transitions and given the players that most hated of stage and screen directions actors, but one which would have given this more pace, urgency and life.
“OK, let’s try that again. But FASTER.”
Rating: PG, bare bottoms, hither and yon
Cast: Gary Oldman, Tim Roth, Iain Glen, Joanna Roth, Ian Richardson, Donald Sumpter, Joanna Miles and Richard Dreyfuss
Credits: Scripted and directed by Tom Stoppard, based on his play. An MGM release on Tubi, other streamers.
Running time: 1:57
Seriously? OK. Sure.
Note the musical touch, an instrumental of U2’s “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For” in this trailer.
May 25 Apple takes a shot at what looks to be a “National Treasure,” Brendan Fraser “Mummy” kind of overdone action goof.
There’s a laugh or two in this trailer for Seth MacFarlane’s reunion with Neeson (“A Million Ways to Die in the West”) for a remake of Leslie Nielsen’s comical triumph.
And there’s something fitting in MacFarlane’s “stretch” of putting aged avenger Neeson in a revival of a beloved comedy franchise.
MacFarlane produced this and didn’t direct the August release. And yes, the trailer does feel like a gag he might have had animated as a one-off for “The Family Guy.” But we’ll see.
One of the best reasons to take the occasional Around the world with Netflix trip is getting the pulse of another culture through its cinema.
It’s a great way recognize one’s own biases and Western ideas of “cultural progress” and see how the rest of the world lives, and how those lives are evolving, perhaps in part due to exposure to “foreign” ideas that much of the world takes as “modern.”
“Promised Hearts” is another tame, chaste romantic melodrama from Muslim Indonesia. It’s practically a faith-based film as characters counsel one another with suggestions of “prayer” and constant vocalized “by God’s grace,” “Did you tell God your problems” and mentions of the teachings/traditions of “The Prophet” in lives of varying degrees of religious piety.
A little of that counts as cultural seasoning in a movie. A lot of it turns the picture, its characters and its plots puerile.
But what this film, based on a novel by Habiburrahman El Shirazy, is getting at ever-so-cautiously is the notion that romantic love pays a price in a patriarchal world of arranged Islamic marriages, where dowries are openly discussed in the ceremony and where some men are still comfortable saying “Women, they’re nothing but commodities.”
Maybe arranged marriages aren’t the best way for college educated young people to pair-up for life counts as a pretty bold statement for an Indonesian film.
We meet Niyala and her closest friend Faiq as schoolchildren, with him protecting her from Roger, the school bully and middle schooler Niyala treating Faiq’s scrapes with first aid, a role she’s taken on at school.
Yes, she’s heading for a career in medicine, something the abrupt death of her mother underscores. Yes, her father sends her off with Faiq’s family to school in Jakarta, where they grow up as “almost siblings.” And yes, this screenplay (by Oka Aurora) is that contrived.
Years later, Niyala is working through med school in Jakarta as she says her good-byes to Faiq, who is going to Cairo to study whatever he’s going to need to know for his career. That’s practically the same moment doctor-to-be-Niyala learns that dad and her brother took on loads of debt to keep her in school, that setbacks have put them “millions” in the hole.
Embittered Herman (Imran Ismail) is the one who spits the news to her (in Indonesian, with subtitles, or dubbed).
Their debtor, the predatory entrepreneur Cosmos (Kiki Narendra) has given them one way out of this “debt or prison” trap.
“He wants you to marry his son.”
As that son is the same Roger (Dito Darmawan) who used to bully her as a child, Niyala is shocked. Her would-be husband’s assurances that “The Roger you knew has changed” notwithstanding, this wasn’t her plan. Not that she’d ever said anything to anyone about a “plan.”
And when Faiq at last comes home with a beautiful, sophisticated and worldly fiance, Diah (Caitlin Halderman), it really does seem Niyala has “no choice” or say in her future.
Perhaps The Prophet’s seventh century words about “learning to love” that arranged spouse will comfort Niyala her and the Iman’s explaining to Faiq (and the audience) how “dating,” which is about physical love and is thus forbidden, is inferior to Islam’s emphasis on “Kafa’ah” (compatibility), which is not just “traditional,” but the better way of coupling up for life will win him over.
Director Anggy Umbarara has made a fairly conservative movie that takes pains not to offend sensibilities within the Islamic world. But it’s a slow, ponderous and obvious affair, with even the ugly twists taking on an “Of COURSE that’s what happens” inevitability. And “inoffensive” is a pretty low bar to set for your movie.
If you’re unfamiliar with Islamic cinema, you might not know about”milk kinship” (riḍāʿa) as a melodramatic device sometimes used in such films for deciding who is actually related to whom. Breastfeeding/wet nursing matters.
The acting is reserved almost to the point of drab, although subtle moments peek through, and there’s something to be said for the stylish Asian version of the hijab, a tudong, for beautifully framing an actress’s face and allowing that subtlety, despite the “Handmaid’s Tale” look and implications of it.
“Promised Hearts” never for an instant lets us lose hope that true love will find a way, which is a universal message every romance hews to. But the film requires too much patience and relies on too many hoary plot devices to have a prayer of coming off, at least in much of the rest of the world.
Rating: TV-14, violence, crime
Cast: Beby Tsabina, Deva Mehanra, Caitlin Halderman, Imran Ismail, Kiki Narendra and Dito Darmawan.
Credits: Directed by Anggy Umbarara, scripted by Oka Aurora, based on a novel by Habiburrahman El Shirazy. A Netflix release.
Running time: 1:54
An abduction, a “Screw Loose” nobody takes seriously, except as a suspect.
April 25.
Greta Lee, Jared Leto, Gillian Anderson and Jeff Bridges, of course, star in this super slick looking sci fi updating of the inside gameverse thriller franchise.
Some indie films confound the viewer with a “What did these actors see in THIS?” connundrum. But not “The Uninvited.”
What looks like another onanistic Hollywood-skewers-Hollywood dramedy set in a tony Hollywood Hills party is actually a priorities-questioning, expectations-upending and surprisingly sentimental look at the 115 year-old Dream Factory and where even the young, the celebrated and the beautiful wind up when their moment in the sun has set.
First-time feature director Nadia Conners’ often sparkling and occasionally poignant script and the simple proximity of its setting ensured she’d land talent of the Pedro Pascal, Elizabeth Reaser, Walton Goggins and Rufus Sewell caliber. They were more than happy to play the Hollywood “types” whose take-stock moment is either confronted or avoided when a confused little old lady pulls her Prius up to the front gate.
A Hollywood agent (Goggins) and his actress-wife (Reaser) are prepping for a “fancy party” of his friends and clients, built around one who is more important than everybody else.
A bartender’s on duty. A “Spirit Photographer,” who ties into a just-finished film and a recent Hollywood fad, is here to capture everybody’s “aura.” Rose (Reaser), whose reputation was made on the stage, is dolling up for the one thing she’s been “good at” since giving up her career for marriage and raising their little boy, Wilder — “performing” the role of partygoer. And Sammy (Goggins) is scrambling to perfect his look and bracing himself to make a pitch to key client Gerald (Sewell), who has made them both rich and famous with some franchise he’s starred in.
Gerald might have the sexy starlet Delia (Eva De Dominici) on his arm, and that might further complicate a party where a big star (Pascal) who used to be Rose’s beau has also RSVP’d.
And then the 90something Helen shows up, someone who is still driving but certain that she “lives here” and who can’t understand why the gate won’t open for her. Screen veteran Lois Smith, a familiar face with over 150 credits from “East of Eden” to “Lady Bird” to “Law & Order” gives Helen a sauciness that comes and goes with her lucidity.
Does her license say Helen Hale?
“For goodness sakes, stop shouting my STAGE name!”
Rose talks to her, gets her to surrender her purse long enough to get that “STAGE name,” and finds an aged address book. A make-or-break party will begin at any moment, and she won’t finished getting dressed out of compassion, concern and a need to get this “problem” out the door for her husband’s big night.
“Call the police,” Sammy distractedly snaps over his shoulder. But Rose has “another stray,” “another project,” he fears. She’s taken an interest and wants to see that this 90something gets “home,” even if she thinks “home” is still at this address.
Helen? The babysitter thinks “she’s a witch.” Sammy considers her “some grave inconvenience.” But the nicely-turned-out little old lady has a few choice words for him, too.
“You swear too much. It cheapens life!” “You’re so angry. It will be the death of you!”
But Helen is just an occasional observer and commentator on the night, where Sammy will face his fears and test the waters of Big Change waters with his wife and his biggest client, where Rose will face the temptation of an old love, a recovering alcoholic all about “making amends,” and where their indulged, scene-stealing little boy (Roland Rubio) will warm to the grandmotherly old woman and insist Mommy tell him the same magical glowfish story she repeats every night
Not every direction taken here surprises, delights or touches. But more than a few do as characters take stock, sober up to unpleasant realities or decide to keep running, networking, drinking and snorting to avoid a reckoning that anyone paying attention is staring them in the face of a stooped and failing old woman sitting on their sofa.
Reaser, a fixture of the “Twilight” movies and most dazzling in the indie “Sweetland,” anchors this cast. But Goggins gives new shades to his unfiltered “Vice Principals” a-hole-in-the-room persona. De Dominici walks a fine line between striving starlet and young woman just figuring out how Hollywood turns “young” into “old” in a blink the length of Rose’s once-promising career.
Sewell is amusingly insufferable and Pascal delights in sending up the “type” a “hot” actor like him could become, if he lets his guard down.
And writer-director Conners makes the most of her good fortune in casting. She has Smith be the grandmotherly gravitas at the center of this quiet storm, wise with her years and so old she’s aged into the truth teller so many need to hear, with only a couple daring to listen.
Rating: R, drug abuse, profanity
Cast: Elizabeth Reaser, Walton Goggins, Pedro Pascal, Rufus Sewell, Eva De Dominici and Lois Smith.
Credits: Scripted and directed by Nadia Conners. A Foton Pictures release.
Running time: 1:37
As much of the country and even the world flips out over the Trump-crashed stock market, and millions are summoned to a Saturday of thousands of protest marches on the dismantling of American democracy, video game fans are filling the cinemas from coast to coast and around the world.
Hey, it’s not like it’s SUPER BOWL weekend, with “real” distractions, right?
“A Minecraft Movie” isn’t getting good reviews because it isn’t good cinema. But it does offer escape, built into a cut-and-paste plot, enthusiastically hammy turns by Jack Black and Jason Momoa and a vivid CGI and soundstage realization of the candy colored world Minecraft invites gamers to play in, build in and flee to.
And millions are buying tickets to it on its opening weekend. In a year when horror movies aren’t drawing, when nobody got an “Oscar bounce” to brag about from the awards season hype around movies with mostly fringe appeal, when “Captain America” opened big and came to earth and “Snow White” never got off the ground, “A Minecraft Moive” blew through expectations from two weeks ago ($100 million), two days ago $130 million) and twelve HOURS ago ($135) to earn $157million on its opening weekend.
Wowza.
Glancing over other reviews, few are coming right out and saying they hate it. But even the endorsements are from the resident lightweights at the “major publications” that used to have a lot more influence than they do. Reviews be damned, it’s giving the fans what they want and rescuing the dying movie-going habit.
I saw it at a Thursday night showing in a far-from-any-interstate small southern city cineplex and the joint was packed. “A Minecraft Movie” took in some $11 million in Thursday night previews, setting up a $52.7 million Thursday-Friday “opening day.” Even if it’s front-loaded and does most of its business Thursday-Sat., that blows up the early “over $100 million” predictions based on pre-sales — too low.
Sure, it still works better as a “creatively” challenging video game. But give Warners credit. They bought the rights to the right Swedish IP video game property. “Sonic the Hedgehog” and “Super Mario Bros.” are pointing the way towards non-Marvel blockbusters, with “Minecraft” pushing over the $260 million mark worldwide for its opening weekend.
The fans? They’re getting all worked up over a “Chicken Jockey” wrestling match. And they’re more enthusiastic than the “Captain America” crowd.
“A Working Man” adds over $7 million to Jason Statham’s hold on action stardom (It’ll clear the $30 million mark by Wed. of next week) and holds second place.
The second “Last Supper” two-episode “film” from “The Chosen” streaming series is set to collect a healthy pre-Easter $6.7 million this weekend.
“Snow White” is already VOD and is fading at the box office so fast — just over $6 million on this, its third weekend — that it may not clear the $100 million mark ($77 by Sunday) before it loses its screens to the earliest summer films. .
Blumhouse’s “The Woman in the Yard” didn’t bring the horror audience back from the dead, as it enjoys its second and final weekend in the top five with a take under $4.5 million.
“Death of a Unicorn” is dying fast, sixth place, $2.7
“The Chosen: The Last Supper Part 1” did $1.86 million.
Neon’s “Hell of a Summer” ($1.75) and Bleecker Street’s “The Friend” ($1.6) — for dog loving adults — won’t move the needle much and will compete with the fading “Captain America: Brave New World” (just under $1.4), “Black Bag,”($950k), “Novocaine”($250K) and the barely-opened “The Penguin Lessons” ($400k) for spots in a 20 that is all “Minecraft” until “summer.”
The mass murdering doll is redesigned and comes back to emerge s a social media star? Who saw that coming?
June 27, the deadly “doll” is back.
Movie Nation 