Movie Nation

James Frey’s “A Million Little Pieces” has been discredited as a memoir of addiction. He made too much of it up for it to be “non-fiction.” “Confessional novel?” Maybe. Got him kicked out of Oprah’s Book Club, because gosh darn it, she ALWAYS wants to believe. That doesn’t seem to have dinged his career at all.

But does a film of that tainted best seller have value on its own merits? I mean, even assuming that the most melodramatic touches are made up?

Not a lot, it turns out. Although “Kick Ass” alumnus Aaron Taylor-Johnson and his director-wife Sam Taylor-Johnson saw enough in it to turn it into a star vehicle, and stars from Billy Bob Thornton and Juliette Lewis to Giovanni Ribisi and Charlie Hunnam were happy to sign on.

What they produced is the ultimate “addict revolts against rehab” drama, a tale of a young man fighting “the cure” every single step — 12 of them, remember — along the way. Because that’s what Frey was selling and what is debated in the film’s group therapy scenes, its “inventory” confession to a Catholic priest (a non-starter). He, as a character, is anti-Alcoholics Anonymous, anti “addiction is a disease.”

“It’s a decision, NOT a disease,” he says defiantly. Perhaps he is living, walking, getting-rich proof of that. Then again, when you’re caught making stuff up, who’s to say?

“Million Little Pieces” introduces Frey (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) in the middle of that one last binge, complete with crack smoking, booze guzzling, nude dancing and falling out of a second story window.

He’s hustled onto a plane, blitzed — where he steals from the liquor cart — and into Minneapolis. That’s where the famed rehab hospital/halfway house/”facility” Waldensen (Hazelden, renamed for the movie) is.

Staggering off the plane, hallucinating a jetway oozing brown liquid from the walls, he doesn’t want to be there. Because, you know, he’s NOT an addict. “I’m not like THOSE people.”

It’s 1993, and this place is too strict for a guy who loves crack as much as James. No booze, no unprescribed medications and NO “fraternizing.” Ignore the hard-mileage young woman (Odessa Young) who comes on to him that first day.

“Wanna do some BLOW?”

She’s persistent.

“Are you deaf or retarded? I’m finding it really hard to tell.”

James doesn’t want to stay, doesn’t want to get kicked out, and kind of wants to stop vomiting. That doesn’t mean this “Christian” program is for him.

He rebuffs her, fends off a too-pushy convict (Giovanni Ribisi, born to play this guy), bristles at his clarinet playing roomie (Charles Parnell) and ignores the profane, sage sarcasm of Leonard (Billy Bob Thornton).

“Work the steps. Trust the process.”

Most everything that follows is straight out of every rehab drama ever filmed — combative group therapy, “cheating” the system, conflict with the resident “weasel” (David Dastmalchian), guilt over the family (Charlie Hunnam plays his older brother) he has wrecked with his addiction.

“God grant me the serenity…”

James rejects “the process,” resists help in sessions with his counselor (Juliette Lewis) and hurls Bibles out the window every time one is offered.

Maybe a shorter book, “Tao te Ching,” will do it for him? You know, “fortune cookie s–t?”

“If you have nothing, you have nothing to lose.”

“Addiction” is every actor’s license to take it over the top and down the drain, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson does that. It’s not a bad performance, just an over-familiar one. Thornton stands out among the rest of the cast, but nobody does colorfully crude colloqualisms like Billy Bob. Teasing a prize-fighter he knows, he stops well short of making the guy mad.

“I’ve got ribs like a f—–g blue jay!”

The Taylor-Johnsons hit just about everything here dead on the nose. That includes the music, lots of variations of “Everybody Hurts” by R.E.M. James walks into a bar, perhaps the only bar in America to put the rasping odes to alcoholism of Tom Waites on the jukebox.

But even a movie otherwise devoid of surprises finds at least one. Here, it’s a beautifully choreographed dance of co-dependency and romantic self-control, James letting himself care about that one junkie who came onto him that first day, not wanting either of them kicked out for caring.

Otherwise, “A Million Little Pieces” is little more than a million little melodrama rehab cliches.

MPAA Rating: R for drug material, language throughout, some graphic nudity and sexual content

Cast: Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Billy Bob Thornton, Odessa Young, Juliette Lewis, Charles Parnell, Giovanni Ribisi and Charlie Hunnam

Credits: Directed by Sam Talor-Johnson, script by James Frey and Aaron Taylor-Johnson. An Entertainment One release.

Running time: 1:53

The French drama “Mon frère” (“Brother”) is a “boys in juvie” drama, a genre pic about what happens in juvenile detention, or “Youth Custody Center” as the French call it.

It’s a sympathetic portrait about a system built to intervene just before a kid is given up on and sent to prison. And it’s a character study in what one troubled boy endures when he is hurled into this environment after a violent crime.

There’s not much new here, just a couple of plot twists that we kind of see coming. But it’s always interesting to note how another culture handles criminals, especially young ones.

Teddy (MHD) is a teen hurled into this fenced-in “center, not jail,” one of a dozen boys who face six month sentences to see if they are worthy of rehabilitation, or prison. He is challenged the instant he walks in.

“Gimme a cigarette,” (in French with English subtitles). There’s an implied threat behind every action, every remark. “Why so quiet? Spill your guts!”

They want to know why he’s there. The movie uses flashbacks to show us that. We see Teddy’s troubled home where he and his younger brother Andy (Youssouf Gueye) endured the terrors of their brute of a father (Mark Grosy), something even their mother (Neva Kehouane) couldn’t manage. She fled. Andy is being raised by their grandmother, their father’s mother (Lisette Malidor).

Teddy’s new environment is operated by case workers, counselors and teachers, but is run “Lord of the Flies” fashion. The psychotic Enzo (Darren Muselet) lives his days in one long lashing-out. The way the adults tolerate empowers him.

Enzo and Teddy are going to tussle. We know it.

The boys attend classes, get pep talks from the case workers — “I believe in you. I believe you’re the future of France.”

That future is troubled, with racial strife, abused kids and out-of-control sociopaths in the making, from the looks of things.

Teddy is identified as smart, but is resigned to his future. The counselor called Claude (Aïssa Maïga) tries to bring him out of his perpetual crouch. She uses soft-punch boxing sessions to identify what Teddy went through and if a talking cure will change him.

The first thing Teddy protects in the ring is the back of his head. It’s where his father used to hit him.

Teddy stands up to bullying, sort of. Then he uses his smarts to try and outfox the raging Enzo. And then an even bigger brute, Mo (Najeto Injai) shows up and upsets the dynamic.

Mo is all “Look DOWN,” as in “Don’t you DARE make eye contact,” and “No one here impresses me.” Will he be useful to Teddy?

Director Julien Abraham (“Made in China,” “Asphalt Playground”) never quite immerses us in this center and its world of fear and violence. The flashbacks to Teddy’s home life interrupt that.

The counselors tolerate entirely too many challenges to their authority and come off as weak. The power struggle there is the most interesting part of the movie, as it is with any “in the joint” tale. But that’s abandoned for a more fantastical turn of events. Or two.

MHD is a quiet presence in this, allowing most every other actor to overwhelm him in one-on-one scenes. There are reasons for that, but structurally, it knocks the film off balance.

“Brother” is more interesting in presenting a contrasting way of dealing with wayward youth than in showing us new variations on age-old genre tropes. The characters and situations are over-familiar, even if the language and setting are not. That makes for a generally dull, by-the-numbers take on the “boys in prison” genre, with only a couple of novel French twists to recommend it.

MPAA Rating: TV-MA, violence, nudity

Cast: MHD, Darren Muselet, Aïssa Maïga, Youssouf Gueye, Najeto Injai, Mark Grosy and Neva Kehouane

Credits: Directed by Julien Abraham, script by Julien Abraham, Almamy Kanouté and Jimmy Laporal-Trésor. A BAC/Netflix release.

Running time: 1:36
A BAC/Netflix release.

Running time: 1:36

A little righteous legal crusade for your holiday awards season enjoyment.

Sell out lawyer finds his soul in fighting a company that kills people.

Good to see Mark Ruffalo joint Scarjo and Chris Evans in finding worth while films outside of the Marvel universe.

It’s not the constant snorting, sniffing and nose-rubbing after the snorting and sniffing.

It’s not drinking, the endless, pointless sexcapades and grasping for ‘decadence.’

It’s not the vomiting after indulging, either. Vomiting and vomiting and sniff sniff sniff more vomiting.

No, the excesses of “The Madness Within,” the most misguided indie drama since “The Room,” are only signs of the power trip a deluded writer/director/star with cash backers was on.

It’s the sheer incompetence of it all, the “Room” level staging blunders, the boom microphone slipping into the frame, the movie posters on the office walls of coke-and-molly-maniac Russ Washington (writer/director/star Hunter G. Williams). They’re the completed films of this Hollywood producer, addict and all around rhymes-with-gas-pole shaker-and-mover.

The title of the biggest hit, the poster hanging right over Hollywood player Russ’s shoulder?

“Corpotate Games.”

That’s right. These dipsticks wrote themselves a “cautionary” Hollywood tale of drugs, sex and the piper wanting to be paid. They hired set dressers who commissioned graphic designers and a print shop for posters for “deadly.” and “From Another Dimension.” And the one that stands out is the one with the misspelled word in the title.

“Corpotate Games.”

Williams’ producer-Russ is out of control, and his production partner Marcus (Edin Gali) is not there as a sobering influence. This isn’t “Simpson/Bruckheimer.” There is no responsible sober partner. They’re both indulgent junkies who burn through production cash the minute they have a deal.

Every bit of good news deserves a bump. Every bit of bad news deserves a bump. Sniff sniff.

They get the deal even though they’ve shown up for their distribution/financing meeting late. Even though Russ declares he has stars lined up (he doesn’t) and presales of $22 million overseas, and $18 million in the U.S. He’s the last guy you’d lend $50 million to for a movie.

There’s little time spent on the set with temperamental stars, a little more spent trying to badger a movie star (Lily Tomlin, as herself) you’ve had a fling with into making your movie.

OK, that was funny.

Mainly it’s about Russ falling for his very own “Pretty Woman” (Tessa Farrell), a hooker who doesn’t charge him. Because like every other woman in the picture, she is compliant and eager to degrade herself to be with these two degenerates.

“In Hollywood, everyone’s a hooker, in one way or the other. Sniff SNIFF.”

“I’m starting to think you have a PROBLEM. SNIFF SNIFF.”

Restaurant bathroom sex, autoerotic asphyxiation in a Darth Vader mask sex, “Eyes Wide Shut” orgy sex.

Golly. At least there’s a little courtship, a montage of trips and sex and hot air balloon rides.

Sniff sniff sniff.

“The hero’s journey” here lacks a hero, or a journey. The performances are competent but not compelling, the dialogue profane and never profound. The sexism and sexual misuse rampant.

“EASY, Weinstein!”

It’s an appalling film on pretty much every level, and one only hopes that all involved — save Lily Tomlin — changed their names in the credits to escape blame.

Of course, it could’ve been worse. They could have signed on to “Corpotate Games.” As it is, they just made what might be the worst film of 2019.

MPAA Rating: R, drugs, sex, profanity

Cast: Hunter G. Williams, Edin Gali, Tessa Farrell, Arber Mehmeti and Lily Tomlin.

Credits: Written and directed by Hunter G. Williams. A Midnight Releasing release.

Running time: 1:37

Disney’s faith that a “Frozen” sequel would blow up at the box office proved well founded as the second icy animated musical pulled in a healthy $127 million on its opening weekend, over 30% better than the original, which opened over a long Thanksgiving weekend a few years back.

“Ford v Ferrari” came in a distant second to “Frozen 2,” at $16 million.

That bested an underwhelming opening for “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” which underwhelmed at $13.5.

STX didn’t do that well with the middling cop thriller “21 Bridges,” which copped $9 million and change.

https://variety.com/2019/film/box-office/frozen-2-box-office-opening-weekend-november-record-disney-1203414759/

Yeah. “In the Loop” and “Veep” creator Armando Ianucci gives Hugh Laurie a sci Fi comedy star vehicle.

Netflix, it would seem, has decided to take on The Hallmark Channel when it comes to seeing who can produce the most cheesy, inconsequential Christmas movies.

But really, dumping them all on us just in time for Halloween isn’t fair.

“The Knight Before Christmas” is a Vanessa Hudgens romance that turns her into a suburban Ohio science teacher visited by her literal “knight in shining armor,” literally, right before Christmas.

Josh Whitehouse of TV’s “Poldark” is Sir Cole Christopher Frederick Lyons of Norwich, a 14th century night who stumbles into an old crone (Ella Kenion) in the snowy forest during a falconry contest. We know she’s an “old crone” because she answers to that.

She promises the young knight “the quest you’ve dreamed of.” Thanks to a magical medallion, she’s sending him to “your destiny,” a place where there are “flying steel dragons” and “a magic box that makes merry.”

That’s what hurls him, in chain mail, broadsword in hand, to The Christmas Castle that dominates the center of Braceburg, Ohio every holiday season. He thinks he sees a way out. But Mrs. Claus is not the “old crone” he’s looking for.

Science teacher Brooke (Hudgens) is more his speed, taking him in, with her “trusty steel steed” and carols-upon-command Alexa. And that “magic box?” It’s loaded with Netflix, showing “Holiday in the Wild,” a somewhat better holiday stocking stuffer from the streamer.

Because as cute as Hudgens and Whitehouse are as a couple, as game as Whitehouse is to throw himself into this nonsense, there’s precious little nonsense to get into.  Screenwriter Cara. J. Russell finds a laugh or two, but leaves an AWFUL lot of funny potential at the poker table, here.

Sir Cole is quite taken with this “mead” they serve during long Ohio winters. Hot chocolate, is it?

“Delicious! WENCH! Another round!”

Brooke has an ex who left behind clothes she offers to Cole.

“SIR Cole!”

The ex? “He turned out to be, as the kids say, ‘a real douche.'”

“I should THANK the douche for the garments!” And later, “Your dalliance with the douche” questions come up.

“Douche” is a funny word that keeps on giving. Perhaps something might have been made of the fact that a knight of the realm of the early 14th century would be fluent in French, and is confused by this simple French word that’s taken on a whole new meaning in America. More “douche” jokes, I say!

Or hearing this or that carol via Alexa could have inspired a witticism. “Good King Wenceslas? I knew his daughter!”

Brooke’s “You’re really a Renaissance Man, aren’t you?” could have set up a quizzical look from the man from the Medieval, not (later) Renaissance, era.

And so on.

As it is, the playt\ers wring what little life there is out of “Medieval enthusiast” explanations for Sir Cole’s behavior, just one of “the cosplay knights at the Christmas castle.”

“Must be one of those ‘Method’ actors.”

Hudgens’ science teacher Brooke seems rather blasé about all this unscientific “time travel,” not particularly swept off her feet by the Knight in Shining Armor who is staying in her guest house (Teachers in Ohio are rich!).

Whitehouse has the fun part, but he can’t make mead out of powdered hot chocolate. The “quest” is remembered, here and there — rescuing this or that damsel in distress. Emmanuelle Chriqui is wasted in a bit part as the teacher’s sister.

But on the whole, “The Knight Before Christmas” is one to skip, a sweet nothing that’s a lot more “nothing” than sweet.

MPAA Rating: TV-14.

Cast: Vanessa Hudgens, Josh Whitehouse, Emmanuelle Chriqui and Ella Kenion.

Credits: Directed by Monica Mitchell, script by Cara J. Russell. An MPCA/Netflix release.

Running time: 1:32

“The Garden Left Behind” is a queer cinema throwback, a simple slice-of-life/what-we-deal-with portrait reminiscent of the early “Here’s who we are” melodramas of the “Lianna” (1983) to “Go Fish” (1994) era.

It’s introductory by nature, polished yet primitive, just like the films that dominated gay big screen storytelling long before the alphabetic expansion to “LGBTQ.”

Director Flavio Alves’ film — John Rotondo co-wrote it — is a “transition” primer, what one person coping with “gender dysphoria” has to go through to be happy in her own skin.

Tina (Carlie Guevera) drives a licensed Town Car around her corner of New York, supporting herself and her abuela (granny), her last surviving relative (Miram Cruz). She’s the only person in her life who still calls her “Antonio,” only speaks Spanish and longs for the day they might “return to Mexico.”

Tina’s got a support system of transgender women of color like herself, with Carol (Tamara M. Williams) her spirit guide through medical officialdom’s “process” of transitioning.

“It’s just so much,” Tina complains. “I have to go to the doctor to see the psychologist to get the letter to get the approval…”

The doctor (Ed Asner) is sympathetic, but serious-minded and very, very old. His probing questions make Tina cry. And no, you do NOT get to compare this to “getting a tattoo.”

She is not happy that she has to “convince some old-ass man” of her sincerity. But she’s undocumented. And the back-alley alternative isn’t something her ladies-who-lunch crowd will let her consider.

Tina also has a long-term boyfriend. But while Wall Street Jason (Alex Kruz) may finally get around to taking her out, he’s more interested in sex on the down low.

And then there’s the bodega clerk (Anthony Abdo) she flirts with. Chris is young, easily bullied and runs with a rough, homo/transphobic crowd. Fitting in with them means letting them shoplift, listening to a LOT of hate speech, playing baseball and keeping his sexual proclivities secret.

“The Garden Left Behind” weaves these threads together and resolves these stories in quite conventional — for the genre and subject matter — ways. We see the steps in Tina’s transition laid out. Tina is radicalized by violence against a trans woman she and her friends know. Chris and Jason will fight their true natures and reveal who they are.

And another  “name” actor will show support and help get the film made by playing a sympathetic, tolerant bartender (Michael Madsen).

The transgender actors aren’t nearly as polished as the established “names” in the cast — line readings that have a stiff theatricality, etc. That and the care-worn and over-familiar “my struggle” story are what I mean by “primitive.” If you don’t know where this is going early on, you’re not getting out enough. And haven’t been getting out enough for years.

By and large, though, “Garden” is shot, lit and edited as well as most studio pictures.

Its value in its topicality — transgender people are still facing violence, and not just in “Boys Don’t Cry” America — and in representation, putting people on the screen who still aren’t often depicted in screen dramas, treating them sympathetically and “explaining” their lives to those of us in need of a primer.

But “Garden Left Behind” is not “Tangerine” or “The Danish Girl” or “Boys Don’t Cry” or “Transamerica.” That it comes after all those “introductory” and groundbreaking films is why, as sympathetic as it might be, it’s just as forgettable as it is watchable.

MPAA Rating: unrated, violence, sex

Cast: Carlie Guevara, Miriam Cruz, Anthony Abdo, Tamara M. Williams, Alex Kruz, Ed Asner and Michael Madsen.

Credits: Directed by  Flavio Alves, script by Flavio Alves and John Rotondo. An Autonomous release.

Running time: 1:28

There is no franchise fatigue when it comes to cartoons for kids.

The “Frozen” sequel is far outperforming the opening of the original film — which earned $93 million over a long holiday weekend not that many Thanksgivings ago.

Deadline is saying a $45 million Friday puts “Frozen 2” on track for as much as $140 million by midnight Sunday, but over $130 for sure. A desultory couple of months since “Joker” means that the box office could surely use it.

Heaven knows Disney needs the money. For more Marvel, “Star Wars” and animated sequels. This weekend will push the House of Mouse over $3 billion for the year.

“A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood” is still on track to earn the $14 million it was projected to take in on opening.

That means that “Ford v Ferrari” will take second place, a somewhat less robust than was hoped for $16 or so. But Saturday could change that.

“21 Bridges” is set to clear $10, maybe $11.

https://deadline.com/2019/11/frozen-2
-opening-weekend-box-office-tom-hanks-mister-rogers-movie-21-bridges-1202792831/

“House Arrest” is a 22 minute sitcom pilot lost inside a 104 minute romantic comedy.

It’s got a cute couple with chemistry, a couple of wacky supporting characters, a daft dilemma and a couple of funny pratfalls. That’s not even close enough to sustain a rom-com of this length.

The premise — Karan (Ali Fazal of “Victoria & Abdul”) is holed up in his roomy New Dehli condo, and has been for 279 days. He cleans obsessively, keeps a car that he has a hired man come and wash, run the engine, etc., and absolutely refuses to cross the threshhold of his flat. Even when a delivery lady drops an eggplant that’s barely out of his reach.

He’s got a few friends who stay in touch — the womanizer J.D. (Jim Sarbh) phones him from whatever bed he’s waking up in, whatever toilet he happens to find himself needing, and the irrepressible Pinky (Barkha Singh), the daughter of a “don” (a mobster) who never hesitates to drop in and impose herself on hapless Karan.

He has his plants, his Roomba, his cleaning rituals and a daily parade of delivery folk (most of whom simply get his address wrong). Pinky? She’s always ready to offer sex for a favor, even if it means having her Lurch-sized body guard Rambo (Sunil Kumar) turn his back while she makes her move.

Not interested, Karan insists. But the favor she needs is an offer he can’t refuse. Because she won’t allow it. He needs to keep “this package” she’s having delivered. Just for a bit.

Figuring out that she’s stuffed a bubble-wrapped body in the trunk dropped at his door comes later.

J.D. professes concern for the shut-in (nobody calls him “Agoraphobic”). Karan is on the spectrum, some sort of spectrum, anyway. One picture is tilted, that means he’s tilting every picture on his wall. But there’s this reporter J.D. wants Karan to meet.

Saira (Shriya Pilgaonkar) is working on a story about the Japanese fad, “hikikormori,” young men locking themselves in their homes with only social media, electronics and food deliveries for company. Is this catching on in India? Karan could be a test case.

The comedy here comes from the bubble wrapped body, mostly. And Pinky. And to a lesser degree, Rambo and J.D. When the body “wakes up” there’s an amusing wrestling match to contain him, and a ditzy phone call to Pinky who tries to talk Karan through finishing the job on the phone. “Stick the knife just below the shoulder blades…or maybe slitting the throat (in a blend of Hindi — with subtitles — and English) would be easier!”

The romance comes from this pushy, pretty reporter and talks Karan into saying “I just needed a break” from his life as a banker, with its “responsibilities, promotions, ambitions.” She’s not convinced. Neither are we.

A day long visit to his immaculate, well-appointed and roomy home convinces her that “You’re loaded. You have it all! You can do anything you want!”

Anything except go outside. And he might have to do that if he wants to “get the girl,” in rom-com speak.

The film is meant to feel claustrophobic, with the limited settings — interiors that comprise Karan’s world. The colors, the light and the balconies undercut that design goal.

A clever sitcom effect — everybody Karan talks to on the phone materializes in the room with him — J.D. on the toilet, Pinky getting her hair done, Saira riding in an “auto” (three wheeled motorized rickshaw).

If you ignore my warnings and dive into this, I will give screenwriter and co-director Samit Bansu this credit. There’s a very sweet twist or two, right at the end. It’s the bulk of what comes before that finale that handcuff “House Arrest.”

MPAA Rating: TV-14

Cast: Ali Fazal, Shriya Pilgaonkar, Jim Sarbh, Barkha Singh, Sunil Kumar

Credits: Directed by Samit Basu and Shashanka Ghosh, script by Samit Bansu.  An India Stories/Netflix release.

Running time: 1:44