Next screening? “Villains”

Maika Monroe’s in it?

I am so… there.

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Movie Review: Team building turns terminal for these “Corporate Animals”

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A diverse workforce at an “edible cutlery” start-up are trapped in a cave during a “team building” spelunking expedition in the dark farce, “Corporate Animals.”

As it’s a comedy scripted by the Brit who wrote “4 Lions,”  there is a moment or two that shows potential and a hint of edge. And it was directed by the fellow who found a little ugly in the similarly claustrophobic, characters-in-a-crucible comedy “The Overnight.”

So no matter how thin the laughs and how ugly the messaging can seem, it never comes close to “awful.”

Demi Moore is the delusional dunce who founded “Incredible Edible Cutlery,” “Saving the world, one bite at a time.” She used that to launch a side business based on the “success” of the first — a “Wealth Institute” where you too can learn the secrets of making your mark in business.

Sound familiar?

Lucy is an ignorant, self-absorbed sociopath who uses threats, bullying and lies to get what she wants — including sex — from those under her thumb.

OK, how about now?

Her delusions extend to the caving route she demands her crew’s guide (Ed Helms) test them with on this day trip to the caves and caverns of New Mexico.

She wants “the advanced route,” and ignores the protests of one and all — including the guide — to get it.

“Are you a woman who runs with WOLVES?” she barks at an underling (Nasim Pedrad).

“I’m more of a woman who runs away from wolves…because they can smell the fear!”

They’ve already injured the intern (Calum Worthy) with the first “test” of the day. But what the hell?

No sooner have they crawled into “Cathedral Cavern” than an earth tremor kills the guide and leaves eight employees and their loathesome boss trapped.

Two top lieutenants — played by Jessica Williams and Karan Soni — bicker over a promotion both think they’re getting above ground, and don’t let up much underground. The debate is summer replacement sitcom worthy and requires a laughtrack to fool anybody into laughing along.

Jennifer Kim, Isaiah Whitlock, Jr., Dan Bakkedahl and Martha Kelly fill out this brain trust, which is not convinced by their lying, heartless boss who chirps, “Wake me up when the rescuers get here!”

Some will give themselves over to the sexual attraction they’ve felt but never acted on, some will use this boss-induced calamity to let the rhymes-with-witch know how they really feel. Finger-pointing and name-calling go hand in hand.

Some will hallucinate, with one’s visions involving the star of his favorite TV show and another the singer whose hit “Toxic” starts to apply to his infected leg wound.

All will whine. Not all will survive.

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Each has headlamps, which are no help when you’re groping around in the near-dark, hunting for a funny line.

“You’re looking at me like a turkey at Thanksgiving!”

“What a terrible, delicious thing to say!”

Yes, the movie “Alive” comes up, and “127 Hours.”

The over-the-top moments of conflict and psychotropic visions (animated hallucinations) are the closest “Corporate Animals” comes to finding the funny.

None of the “Let’s consider cannibalism” stuff pays off with laughs. And the film’s reach for satire — a company built on “diversity” grants — hits the ground like a boulder plunging from a cliff. “THUNK.”

Moore, doing a variation of her vile “Disclosure” character from back in the ’90s, makes a fine foil for the others, who only need sharper lines and more inventive situations to give this picture a chance.

Which it never has.

1half-star

MPAA Rating: R for pervasive language, sexual content, some gore and brief nudity

Cast: Demi Moore, Jessica Williams, Ed Helms, Karan Soni, Jennifer Kim, Isaiah Whitlock, Jr., Nasim Pedrad, Calum Worthy, Dan Bakkedahl and Martha Kelly

Credits: Directed by Patrick Brice, script by Sam Bain.  A Screen Media release.

Running time: 1:26

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Documentary Review: Get strong, live long, go Vegan say “The Game Changers”

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There was a moment, back in the dark ages, when “60 Minutes” cut to the chase at the climax of decades and decades of science, reports, government ad bans and warnings about cigarettes.

Smoking, the evidence showed in a famous piece that aired there, constricts blood flow. And guess what, guys? It REALLY cuts blood flow to that place no guy wants his circulation restricted. Not talking about the heart here, fellas.

Such a moment is echoed in the new documentary from the director of “The Cove.” In a giggles and squirm-inducing scene in “The Game Changers,” noted urologist Robert Vogel sets three college athletes up with muscle, bloodflow and erection monitoring gear (don’t ask) to check on them as they sleep.

He was checking on the impact of a vegetarian diet on “masculinity,” in effect. And damned if the chap who cut meat out of his diet didn’t, um, WAY outperform his compatriots.

“The Game Changers” is about the myths of vegetarianism and strength, stamina, longevity and yes, sexual performance. The host and narrator of the film, hand-to-hand combat coach and UFC fighter James Wilks leads us (with director Louie Psihoyos in tow) across America and around the world, finding athletes and ex-athletes, researchers and doctors by the score, making the argument that our meat-mania is mainly just marketing.

If you want to improve your health, increase your strength and oh, save the planet while you’re at it, eat your vegetables, kids.

Wilks introduces us to UFC fighters and weightlifters, sprinters and hyper-marathoners, all improving performance and recovery time from injuries by sticking to a  diet rich in vegetables and carbohydrates.

We’re shown, in the bluntest terms possible, how a single animal-based meal can foul the blood with animal fat and restrict blood flow.

Myth after myth is busted. Animal proteins vs. plant ones are broken down, scientifically, and the idea that “meat makes you stronger” is taken apart at the atomic level.

Soy foods “dose you with estrogen?” Nope.

Arnold Schwarzenegger‘s line from “Escape Plan,” “You hit like a VEGETARIAN” is repeated, and then we from The Man Himself about his discovery (post health and heart problems) of a plant-based diet.

Weight lifter Patrik Baboumian, who might be the world’s strongest human, does his Feats of Strength on a plant diet.

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Big Meat’s assault on harsh, widely-accepted global scientific truths is exposed as being driven by some of the same people and the same PR firm that defended Big Tobacco for half a century, the kings of the “Sow doubt” school of public opinion.

The film wanders quite a bit, getting all these people in, showing Wilks’ own conversion story, cherry picking which fight between vegan Nate Diaz and meat-chomping thug Conor McGregor to report on (they fought twice, and split).

The big arguments are solidly backed up even if there is a hint of “new convert’s zeal” to the proceedings. Yes, cattle and pigs consume land, feed and water and cripple the planet at every stage of production and consumption. Yes, people who eat meat tend to get more diseases and die younger.

It probably won’t convert a lot of folks, even if “The Game Changers” makes it on CNN. But those it does reach will have the last laugh, on their way home from the funerals of the Big Mac or Bust believers.

3stars2

MPAA Rating: Unrated, adult subject matter, some profanity

Cast: James Wilks, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Patrik Baboumian, Morgan Mitchell, Scott Turek, Lucius Smith

Credits: Directed by Louie Psihoyos, script by Shannon Kornelson, Mark Monroe and Joseph Pace. A Refuel release.

Running time: 1:27

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Wes Anderson’s “The French Dispatch” is set for 2020

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Animated or live action, the twee films of Wes Anderson have been onnan Howard trajectory with audiences after years of being “citical darlings.” A serio comic love letter to journalism” is his next project, and “The French Dispatch” has distribution and is in the pipeline fpr 2020.

From Fox Searchlight…

Fox Searchlight Pictures announced today it has acquired worldwide rights to Academy Award® nominee Wes Anderson’s THE FRENCH DISPATCH. Resuming a successful partnership that has spanned previous films including ISLE OF DOGS, THE GRAND BUDAPEST HOTEL, FANTASTIC MR. FOX and THE DARJEELING LIMITED, Anderson, Steven Rales and Jeremy Dawson return as producers while Fox Searchlight Pictures will distribute the film produced and co-financed by Indian Paintbrush.

THE FRENCH DISPATCH is a love letter to journalists set in an outpost of an American newspaper in a fictional 20th-century French city and brings to life a collection of stories published in “The French Dispatch” magazine.  The film’s cast includes Benicio Del Toro, Frances McDormand, Jeffrey Wright, Adrien Brody, Timothée Chalamet, Léa Seydoux, Tilda Swinton, Mathieu Amalric, Lyna Khoudri, Stephen Park, Owen Wilson and Bill Murray. The film will be released in 2020.

“We are excited to dive back into the unmistakable and entirely original world of Wes Anderson,” said Steve Gilula and Nancy Utley, Chairmen of Fox Searchlight Pictures. “Our collaborations with Wes in the past have been exceptional, and we’re thrilled to be back working with him and the Indian Paintbrush team on THE FRENCH DISPATCH.”

“Wes and our entire filmmaking team are delighted to again collaborate with our partners at Fox Searchlight, and excited to introduce audiences to THE FRENCH DISPATCH,” said Steven Rales.

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Netflixable? Brits can’t manage getting married laughs “For Love or Money”

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When the mind wanders during a comedy, or any film that isn’t quite working, the only constructive place to let it wander is to one question.

“Why did these attractive, talented people (the cast) decide to do it?”‘

Sometimes the answer is a payday. Mostly, it’s because the players see enough in the script and their read on how gifted the director is to take a gamble.

And every now and then, an actor will tell you how important it is that they’re in the final scene. Many a professional screen actor will tell you that this measure of the relative value of the character is a tipping point reason for committing.

It’s also a dead give away that they pay a lot more attention to the final act than the first.

“For Love or Money” — the latest unfortunate comedy to wear that title (Michael J. Fox was in an earlier one) — begins badly and goes on and on with virtually no signs of life, or at least laughs.

Hey, if you can’t make an opening funeral funny, you aren’t trying hard enough.

The priest at that wedding lapses into “blah blah blah” about the deceased. And “etc. etc.”

Our story’s hero, played by Robert Kasinsky (“Pacific Rim,” “Hot Pursuit”), showed up to “make sure” his childhood tormentor was “really dead.” Mark uses this opportunity to chat with his childhood crush, Connie (Samantha Barks of “Bitter Harvest”).

It doesn’t go well.

“Are you seriously making moves on me at my boyfriend’s funeral?”

It’s not just that it doesn’t go well, it’s that it doesn’t go amusingly. And laughs are few and far between over the following 90 minutes.

The lovably loutish best friend (Tony Way), the big business wheel who has been Connie’s “side piece” (Ed Speleers), the major players have nothing laughable to say or do.

Bit players are the only ones with a shot — the priest whose wedding instructions include “Speak now, or shut yer face,” the waiter who interrupts clumsy, unconfident Mark’s attempts at date night small talk with — “Just relax. Be yourself.” — before he opens their wine and instead of giving Mark or Connie that first sip to confirm it’s quality, sips it himself and says “‘S’alright.”

Because Mark and Connie do get together. He has a tech fortune that’s coming his way when he sells his big invention, the sleazy Johnny (Speleers) knows about it and convinces Connie that she can get half of Mark’s money if she just dates and marries him.

Piece of cake.

What must have gotten the cast’s attentions and lured them into “For Love or Money” is what happens next, and what goes on for the entire film’s length. Mark learns of their plot only after getting engaged, and spends the rest of the movie exacting revenge on her via pranks, insults, public and private humiliations.

He sabotages her coffee, puts hair remover in a shampoo bottle, buys clothes to match and replace her wardrobe with sizes too small, and reinforces that with cracks about her weight.

And as Mark enlists former roomie Tim (Way), old school chum and Connie-hater Kendra (Rachel Hurd-Wood) in the scheme, we see Connie brought low, and lower. She takes it because, well, she’s that greedy.

“If I have to ‘fake it’ any more I’m going to have a brain hemorhage!”

The revenge part of the tale, its dominant element, is usually a tiny portion of such movies. Maybe she gets wise to him being wise and turns it around, or maybe she starts to feel shame and then affection, etc.

What “For Love or Money” reaches is Mark figuring out if “There’s a big difference between getting your dignity back and getting revenge.”

The third act’s shifts in tone would if the first two acts had been the least bit funny. They aren’t. The script, co-written by the director and joked-up by another writer, has feeble jokes and worn situations, characters as caricatures, every comic sin in the book.

The leads are never quite engaging and not remotely amusing.

If we feel anything for their characters, it might be pity but never rises to sympathy or righteous glee at Mark’s avenging himself on a cruel, greedy person out to wreck his life.

Even those of us who get a grin out of British accents and British jokes and slang will find this not worth bothering with, “For Love or Money.”

1half-star

MPAA Rating: TV-MA

Cast:Robert KazinskySamantha Barks, Rachel Hurd-Wood, Ed Speleers, Tony Way and Anna Chancellor.

Credits: Directed by Mark Murphy, script by Mark Murphy and Sabrina Leage. A Gravitas Ventures release.

Running time: 1:35

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Movie Preview: “An Audience of Chairs”

A mother loses custody of her two a daughters, with cause. She is mentally ill. How she copes is the subject of “An Audience of Chairs,” a Canadian drama that is the quintessence of “fall cinema.”

It’s serious.

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Movie Preview: Mark Ruffalo, Anne Hathaway, Tim Robbins, Bill Camp and Bill Pullman wrangle over “Dark Waters”

Ruffalo is a West “By God” Virginia lawyer working for Big Corps out of state, when he takes on the case of a farmer (Bill Camp) losing cattle to chemical poisoning of the water supply.

Tim Robbins as a villain, Victor Garber, too.

Hathaway is the fiery supportive wife. Thankless part, but her name on the marquee it helps get “Dark Waters” made.

Todd Haynes’ new “inspired by true events” fight between a lawyer and The People against state government hand in glove with Dow Chemicals opens Nov. 22.

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Movie Review: The first decapitating cut is the deepest in Miike’s “First Love”

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You’ve got a Chinese mob soldier named “One-Armed Wang” with a grudge. You can guess what about.

There’s a drug-addicted heroine who hallucinates middle aged men dancing in their tidy whiteys.

The toughest Chinese assassin is, well, transgender.

The hero gets awfully brave when it comes to dealing with crooked cops, yakuza and Chinese mobsters after he learns he has a brain tumor.

And the grizzled mob boss is a goddamned poet — “Morning light doesn’t suit the wicked.”

Takashi Miike’s latest yakuza swords and sidearms epic (“Audition” and “Yakuza Apocalypse” were his) is a gonzo comic thriller that takes its time getting started, clutters the screen with characters, intrigues and subplots and only gets down to (funny) business when the guy with one arm shows up.

Trigger alert — if you can’t find it in your heart to laugh or at least giggle at the sight of a lopped-off head, maybe “First Love” isn’t for you.

A shy, orphaned young boxer (Masataka Kubota) is endlessly lectured by his cornerman that he needs to find something or someone bigger than himself to fight for.

“Without the love, you’ll eventually lose” he gripes (in Japanese, with English subtitles.

Even the news, after his first loss, that a brain tumor probably caused him to collapse in the middle of pummeling a foe doesn’t get a rise out of them. Then, a junky-hooker named Monica (Sakurako Konishi) screams for help, and Leo — a dead boxer walking with nothing to lose, has his purpose.

He clocks her tormentor. It’s just that the guy (veteran character actor Nao Ohmori) is a cop. It’s just that he’s a dirty cop, grabbing poor Monica, enslaved to pay off her father’s mob debts, because he wants her to be the fall-gal in a drug stealing scheme that could set the Japanese gang against the Chinese gang in the Shinjuku corner of Tokyo.

And that bad cop has a confederate, the cunning punk Kase (Shôta Sometani, hilarious). He’s the mastermind here, pulling one over on his fresh-out-of-prison boss (Seiyô Uchino), a tad inept and out of his depth, but ruthless. You’ve got to love the line he shouts when his rob-the-drug-courier ambush goes wrong.

“Cool DOWN! It’s only a…drill!”

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But Kase’s machinations run him afoul of the girlfriend of one mobster (Becky) and the Chinese mob’s nuclear option — Chiachi (Mami Fujioka). Let’s just say thugs should think twice before plotting a sexual assault or hate crime in Shinjuku.

Miike, working from a Byzantine Masa Nakamura script, cranks up the crazy as “First Love” lopes along. It may be a slow starter, with a whole boxing picture prologue. And it may doggedly march through a couple of anti-climaxes before making its exit. This is still rousing, over-the-top entertainment, with gunfights and swordfights, women in distress and women wronged and women out for blood.

I’m unfamiliar with this actress Becky (Rebecca Eri Rabone). But seeing her go off when revenge is in her eyes as “Julie” would have me side-eyeing every Japanese woman who passes, was I to take a Tokyo tour.

“I’m out to KILL! Everybody, LET’s KILL!” loses nothing in translation.

There’s a droll humor that makes all this exposition, confusion and mayhem come off, a tone set by having Leo so utterly unflappable in so many situations. The first guy to pull a gun on him just warrants a “Huh. My first hallucination.”

If you haven’t sampled the works of Miike before now, here’s the perfect introduction. And yakuza action-comedy fans, you never forget your “First Love.”

3stars2

MPAA Rating: unrated, graphic violence, drug abuse, near-nudity

Cast: Masataka Kubota, Sakurako Konishi, Nao Ohmori, Becky, Shôta Sometani, Mami Fujioka and Seiyô Uchino

Credits: Directed by Takashi Miike, script by Masa Nakamura. A Well-Go USA release.

Running time: 1:48

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Movie Review: James Franco’s alternate history is in the long-shelved “Zeroville”

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“Zeroville” is a surreal fantasia on Hollywood filmed in 2014, in limbo when its distributor went bankrupt in 2016.

Based on a Steve Erikson novel, it has morphed, on the shelf, into a veritable James Franco time capsule, a movie about “the secret movie within ALL movies” and the ultimate “Hollywood ending.” It presents an alternate 2019 for its director and star, a perfect representation of who he was five years ago.

Try to recall a time before “Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood,” because this film begins in exactly the same year, with a young aspiring set-builder (Franco) arriving just after the same Sharon Tate/Manson family murders that Tarantino’s summer blockbuster toyed around with.

And remember the films, the adventurously eclectic career that Franco, now 41, was pursuing before his sordid and destructive #MetToo history blew up his 2018 Oscar shot (for “The Disaster Artist”) and stopped his rise to the top.

This is just the sort of film he was making back then. He’d round up friends from his posse — Seth Rogen, Craig Robinson, brother Dave Franco and Danny McBride among them — direct and sometimes star in quirky, offbeat movies that rarely made much noise and sometimes showed great promise, at others made you laugh at the pretentions of the would-be poet/novelist/playwright/screenwriter, director and actor.

The ambitions of “Zeroville” are modest. A fitfully amusing/deliberately obscure movie about the movies made a nice dry run for “The Disaster Artist,” but there’s not enough here to make it “essential” or even easy to sit through.

Coming out after “Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood” and “The Disaster Artist” doesn’t help.

And neither does noting that one of Franco’s co-stars was a then quite-young Joey King, before her reinvention as a Netflix teen sexpot. Enough people come out and call you a manipulative, predatory creeper of teenagers — including your own admissions in print — and the viewer can be excused for fretting over what went on off the set.

Franco stars as Vikar, whom we see shave his head and get his scalp tattooed with an image of Liz Taylor and Montgomery Clift in “A Place in the Sun.” Sure, it’s 1969 and nobody was doing that then, but roll with it.

Vikar shows up in Hollywood a proverbial naif. Yes, he’s older than anybody who’s this naive should be. But he has an excuse. He was in seminary, studying church architecture. He’d never seen a movie until recently, and that first film, starring Liz Taylor and Monty Clift, changed his life.

He’s landed a job building sets, but he quickly reveals himself to have odd ideas and obsessions about films that go beyond the script, envisioning scenes that happen “23 years after” the events in the movie he’s supposedly designing and constructing.

A chance encounter with a jaded, older film editor (Jacki Weaver) convinces him to change careers. Meeting a loony, macho, gun-crazy screenwriter (Seth Rogen) imbeds him even deeper in the business. Glimpsing a struggling, older starlet at a party (Megan Fox) leads to a new obsession.

And over the next eleven years, his star rises even as his bizarre beliefs about what’s really going on when the lights go down make him come off as a tad psychotic — which in Hollywood, then and now, is not a deal breaker.

The most delightful scenes in “Zeroville” are built around Rogen playing a gonzo version of “Apocalypse Now” screenwriter and “Red Dawn” director and co-writer John Milius, infamous as a surfing right wing Hollywood gun-nut with an unfiltered mouth.

Rogen bellowing abuse at a young George Lucas and his “not robots, ‘droids'” and at young Spielberg who has “this great idea about a great white shark that terrorizes a town!” and at Lucas AND Spielberg (just called “George” and “Steven”) for saying “Think ROBOTIC shark” is a movie-lover’s hoot that is not to be missed.

We meet “John” as he hurls derision at Ali McGraw for blowing her lines on the set of “Love Story,” which is the first movie Vikar sees in production upon his arrival.

Will Ferrell plays a hilariously delusional producer Vikar finds himself at odds with as he edits/saves the dope’s picture. Producer Rondell’s delusions extend to his singing abilities, which he’s not shy about sharing at wrap parties. “The Tracks of My Tears” may never recover.

A common conceit of movies about Hollywood is how nearly everybody there is a cineaste, a classic cinema buff — even the guy (Craig Robinson) burgling your hotel room.

Versions of Marlon Brando and Coppola (Horatio Sanz) bickering on the set of “Apocalypse Now” and punk rocker Iggy Pop on the stage at late ’70s CBGB’s also add texture to a film which marries the whirlwind “rise to the top in Hollywood” tale to the bizarre stuff Vikar picks up when he sees “The Passion of Joan of Arc” or “Sunset Boulevard” or “The Holy Mountain.”

Vikar’s post-Manson murders grilling at the hands of LA detectives (Danny McBride is one of them) opens the film on the wrong foot. Yeah, the tattoo got their attention.

Scoring the opening credits with The Animals’ “It’s My Life and I’ll Do What I Want” for a movie directed by and starring a guy with Franco’s baggage is Woody Allen-level creepy.

And Franco’s sullen, scowling version of “an intellectual on a mission” is closer to Tommy Wiseau’s acting efforts than his own best work — playing Tommy Wiseau in “The Disaster Artist.”

The whole Fox as femme fatale storyline is poorly conceived and flatly acted. She can be better than this, but not often.

Whatever its virtues, the film comes together more adroitly than satisfyingly.

Think of “Zeroville” as an artifact, worth looking at as a piece of pre-history that cannot — at present — shed its baggage, and frankly didn’t need that off-screen baggage to be a bust.

1half-star

MPAA Rating: R for language throughout, some sexual content/nudity and brief drug use

Cast: James Franco, Megan Fox, Joey King, Seth Rogen, Will Ferrell, Danny McBride, Craig Robinson and Jacki Weaver

Credits: Directed by James Franco, script by Ian Olds and Paul Felten, based on a Steve Erikson novel. A MyCinema release.

Running time: 1:34

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Documentary Review — “Fiddler! A Miracle of Miracles”

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“Fiddler on the Roof” is not everybody’s favorite musical.

You see enough community theater or scholastic productions of it performed by folks who figure Jewish caricatures are the way to go with their performances, or that they can (in one burned into my memory) get away with having a synthesizer subbing for a “fiddle” in the pit orchestra, you get over it pretty quickly.

But if “you hear it once or twice,” says Ted Chapin, Executive Director of the Rodgers & Hammerstein company, “you know the songs for the rest of your life.”

And the man, who has nothing to do with “Fiddler,” really — neither did Rodgers or Hammerstein — is as right as rain.

From “Tradition” to “If I Were a Rich Man” to “Matchmaker” to “Sunrise, Sunset” and “(L’Chaim) To Life,” they embed themselves into the brain and pop up at any appropriate moment.

“Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles” takes its title from one of those songs, and is a delightful history of this unlikely blockbuster, interviewing the creators of it, scores of actors who have performed in it, from Broadway to Bangkok, and others who have embraced it as one of the great moments in musical theater, one that’s always in production somewhere on the globe because it speaks across cultures and across time.

“In moments of great upheaval,” Broadway wunderkind Lin-Manuel Miranda declares, hinting at the dark politics of bigotry and anti-semitism on the rise here and abroad, “‘Fiddler’ is going to seem relevant.”

Using animation, vintage TV performances and interviews, clips from productions ranging from Rotterdam to Tokyo, various Broadway revivals and the 1971 Norman Jewison film of the show, filmmaker Max Lewkowicz (he did the Morgenthau political dynasty documentary) gives us a great origin story, some funny anecdotes and lots and lots of “Fiddlers” and milkmen named Tevye.

Best of all, he lets us hear from the creators — Joseph Stein, who wrote the book (the narrative, dialogue), composer Jerry Bock and lyricist Sheldon Yarnick.

You don’t have to buy into Stein’s assertion (he died in 2010) that their initial pitch, “a musical about a bunch of old Jews in Russia going through a pogrom” earned them “You’re nuts!” brush-offs back in the early 1960s. Come on. New York? Broadway in the ’60s? Pretty doggoned Jewish. And many others had given a thought to doing this very adaptation.

But remembering the “Mad Men” era, when august Broadway and show business figures such as Jerome Robbins (Jerome Rabinowitz), Alan King (Irwin Allen Kniberg) and Joan Rivers (Joan Molinsky) were still hiding their Jewish surnames, you think “Maybe.”

The original idea was to do a particular Sholem Aleichem story, which was quickly abandoned instead for an adaptation of some of the famous Jewish author and wit’s “Tevye” stories, principally “Tevye and his Daughters.”

Harold Prince was approached to direct, but he pushed for Jerome Robbins (“West Side Story”), and the film gets at the personal and political conflicts Robbins brought to the process, in the writing and staging and in the casting.

He “named names” during the 1950s Congressional “Witch Hunt” of people in Hollywood and the performing arts, and original “Fiddler” Tevye, Zero Mostel never let him forget it. And Robbins didn’t get along with such collaborators as designer Boris Aronson, who settled on Marc Chagall-inspired sets, giving the production its surreal out-of-time 1905 Russia look.

Chagall’s 1921 painting “The Fiddler” gave the show its title, “Fiddler on the Roof.”

The show bombed when it hit out of town try-outs in Detroit, was tweaked and became a smash that set Broadway records that lasted until “Grease!” and “A Chorus Line” and their like came along a decade later.

We hear a hilarious if somewhat tone-deaf ditty cut from the play, “When Messiah Comes,” and see old TV bits with Bock and Harnick singing and playing pieces they were working on for a New York theatre TV show of the early ’60s (wow), of Mostel singing with talk show host Dick Cavett, and Chaim Topol, the Israeli actor who played Tevye in London before being cast in the film version.

There’s excellent analysis of the show and the film and the era from Fran Lebowitz, Chapin and others, and a splendid defense of the somewhat stodgy and stagey movie (having an Israeli play Tevye made his endless conversations with God a lot more assertive and aggressive).

And Topol, Joel Grey (star of a Yiddish production), Michael Bernardi, a Broadway Tevye and son of a Broadway Tevye (Herschel Bernardi), and actresses from recent revivals (Jessica Hecht, Melanie Moore) talk about the subtexts of characters, the nascent feminism that worked its way from Aleichem’s book to the all-male braintrust that created “Fiddler.”

The film gets sidetracked, here and there, diving deep into the horrors of matchmakers and their role in Jewish women being sold into slavery among its dead ends.

But by the time we visit the “real” village of Anatevka, the setting for “Fiddler,” and see how the show looks and sounds in public schools and in Tokyo, Rotterdam and Bangkok, “Fiddler” has worked its magic, all over again.

And we’re left with days of trying to get those damned songs out of our head. Again.

3stars2

MPAA Rating: PG-13 for some thematic elements/disturbing images.

Cast: Chaim Topol, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Jessica Hecht, Jerry Bock, Sheldon Harnick, Fran Lebowitz, Gurinder Chadha, Joel Grey, Michael Bernardi, Harvey Weinstein, Austin Pendleton, Harold Prince, Paul Michael Glaser, Melanie Moore

Credits: Directed by Max Lewkowicz, script by Max Lewkowicz and Valerie Thomas. A Samuel L. Goldwyn release.

Running time:

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