Who isn’t happy Zoe Saldaña won an Oscar?

Not the fangirls and fanboys who grew up watching her embellish or flat out carry her share of sci-fi franchises — “Star Trek,” “Avatar” and “Guardians of the Galaxy” among them.

Not pre-“fanboy” fans who realized what she brought to the table beyond the ability to master fight choreography, firearms and general badass personae, something first exhibited in the first film I ever interviewed her about, “Colombiana.”

Not the Latin community, which earns Oscar recognition again in the same category Rita Moreno broke through in over half a century ago.

But there’s been pushback against the somewhat overpraised Netflix film “Emilia Perez.” More than a little. Some of it warranted.

Can’t please everybody, I guess. She’s great in the part and a “career” Oscar is certainly her due. A gracious, emotional speech, and recognition for all she’s done for the movies by being a part of more than her share of blockbusters.

Plainly, they’re going to have to find ways to give Tom Cruise and Samuel L. Jackson Oscars as well.

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So “Anora” was the Best the Movies had to Show us Last Year?

Sure. Right. Yeah. But come on.

A tale of Russian oligarchs and a first-gen immigrant sex worker’s tangle with them — the exploited and the exploiters switching roles, if only briefly — is a movie of the moment, of this dark American moment?

For my money, “The Substance” had more to say to women than our Best Actress/Best Picture etc. winner. And for damned sure Demi Moore gave a better performance playing the hell out of a more fascinating character than Oscar’s Best Actress winner.

Sean Baker’s obsession with sex workers and that exploited and increasingly threatened corner of American life has paid off with a dominant night at the Oscars. But “The Florida Project” was his best film, one that had more to say, and “Tangerine” had more edge and a lot more laughs.

Screen scrolling The Morning After the Oscars has produced a “generational” disconnect for the five time Oscar winner, with one some of the most salient points being made on Gen Z Central, Reddit.

“We must be rich while we’re young or what’s the point of life?”

It’s a slippery, sex-lubed saga (the damned thing was too long, too) to try and get a handle on in terms of its appeal. The story is simple to the point of simplistic, and the “improvised” dialogue is nothing to quote on a T-shirt, or quote period.

Films gather a “cachet,” and one can point to “The Brutalist,” the Best Animated Feature winner “Flow” and “Anora” as having that this year, the movies eating up a lot of major media outlet conversation. Most years, that cachet carries the day. But is anybody still talking about “The Artist” or “The Shape of Water?”

An editor I had early in my career used to quote her grandmother whenever given evidence of a further slide into depravity by the culture, as evidenced in film, media or politics.

“Fall of Rome,” she’d mutter. “Fall of Rome.”

So here we are, another Oscars where the “message” Hollywood is sending is a sort of futile shout into the void and against the grain, and not against a nation sliding into Russian oligarchical fascism.

Our only champion here is a sex worker determined to land her whale or at least get her cut. That’s “Golly, we really ARE doomed” dark.

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Classic Film Review: Hackman’s a Working Class CIA Joe taking care of “Company Business”

Not every actor’s all that picky about her or his wardrobe. But the great ones are.

Glenn Ford didn’t find a character until he picked out just the right hat. Piper Laurie would fuss over what purse somebody she was playing would carry.

The late Gene Hackman? Hats and ties would tell the story.

So a movie about a CIA agent dodging “the Russians” and “The Company” in post-Berlin Wall Berlin might demand a trench coat. But Hackman always gave his characters with working class origins a tie tied entirely too short. And the hats were something you might see on your average New York cabbie of the day.

When he played high priced lawyers, presidents and such, the tie was normal length. But for a Popeye Doyle (“The French Connection” movies) or ex-CIA agent Sam Boyd in “Company Business,” the tie was short and the cap was baldspot-hiding working class.

The film, a serio-comic cat-and-mouse chase through Berlin and Paris, probably seemed a safe bet in 1990-91. Nicholas Meyer, who scripted “Time after Time” and whose light writing and directing touch saved the early “Star Trek” movies, cooked up a sort of “Hopscotch” comic thriller/working vacation in Europe for the Oscar-winning Hackman, paired up with Russian dancer/sex symbol turned actor Mikhail Baryshnikov.

But even if the film gave Hollywood the sense that veteran villain Kurtwood Smith (“Robocop”) could pull off perpetually PO’d in comic strokes, setting him up for “Hearts and Souls,” “To Die For,” TV’s “Big Wave Dave’s” and eventually “That ’70s Show,” “Company Business” barely manages a chuckle.

The set pieces are cleverly handled, the action beats play and the picture moves along at a nice clip. And Hackman — 61 when this caem out — is in fine form, giving better than the whole enterprise probably deserved. But if this is one of the forgotten titles of Hackman’s last decade on screen, there’s a reason.

We meet “old guy” Sam as he’s pulling a documents heist the Old School way — busting into headquarters in black mask and jumpsuit, dodging the guards, rappelling down a wall from an upper story of the glass-encased promontory to make his getaway.

The next day’s visit to his handlers gives away the game. He was stealing industrial secrets — cosmetics formulas. And a nerd in the lobby, also waiting to see the corporate types coveting this cache, got the same info simply by “hacking,” with the old guy tricking the kid to save face and his payment for the job.

When his former employers summon him to Langley with their old “Who do you like in the Fifth?” (a horse racing cliche) phone call, Sam’s first question is the only one that matters.


“Why take the battleship Missouri out of mothballs?”

Sam’s a Cold Warrior, and the Cold War is over. The Berlin Wall’s down. And we’ve already heard the CIA brain trust (Kurtwood Smith, Terry O’Quinn and others) gripe that they “HATE old guys” like Sam.

But there’s one more “exchange,” a long-imprisoned U2 pilot they can get for a chunk of cash and a Russian spy they’ve held for seven years. Post Iran-Contra, this bit of spookwork has to be off-the-books, as they’re using a Colombian drug lord’s cash and they don’t want Congress coming after them and Sam, who’d be an “Oliver North without all the medals” if caught.

Sam dutifully accepts the cash, fetches the Russian Pyotr Grushenko (Baryshnikov) and gets him to Berlin.

The banter is mostly dull and ill-considered, as the eagle-eyed and memory like a steel-trap Sam can’t recall the name of the vodka that the Russian keeps recommending.

Berlin’s sex district would make a great hide-out when things go haywire, and Meyer tries to find some fun in that. A transgender bar with a version of Marlene Dietrich singing “See What the Boys in the Backroom Will Have” (from “Destry Rides Again”) is about as funny as all the gay references get.

Baryshnikov wouldn’t show a lot of comic flair until his last significant role, a story arc on “Sex and the City,” later in the decade. Lines muttered about his reluctance to “go home” — “Who do you think I am, E.T.?” — fall flat.

Smith and O’Quinn take sturns sputtering “It’s no longer fashionable to ransom hostages with Colombian drug money!” and “What’re you trying to do, restart the COLD WAR?”

The American Sam may crack that “We still have Fidel,” when it comes to international boogeymen for the country to obsess over. Petulent Pyotr could still crack back “So do WE.”

Not a knee-slapper in the lot.

Screen icon Hackman’s workmanlike turn holds the picture together, as far as that goes. But in a movie that tries to work up a fine comic fury over Reagan/Bush crimes and criminality, and that proves to be an exercise in futility. Nobody was hearing that.

The next year, Bill Clinton would win the White House because the clueless patrician Republican Bush didn’t know the price of a gallon of milk.

And lines about how “The Japanese own your whole f—–g country” may be reminders of how long “The Japanese Century” lasted about ten years. But for a viewer today it just underscores that “The American Century” is certainly over and with half the country voting to emulate Russiam Cold War action comedies have lost any cachet they once had.

Rating: PG-13, bloody gunplay, nudity,

Cast: Gene Hackman, Mikhail Baryshnikov,
Géraldine Danon, Terry O’quinn, Oleg Rudnik, Daniel van Bargen and Kurtwood Smith

Credits: Scripted and directed by Nicholas Meyer. An MGM release on Tubi, other streamers.

Running time: 1:38

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Netflixable? Mexican Commandos fend of the “Dogs” of a Cartel — “Counterattack (Counterstrike, Contraataque)”

An elite Mexican commando unit battling cartels and corruption must shoot and fight its way north — to safety in Brownsville — in the chest-thumping shoot-em-up “Counterattack.”

Nothing is made of that irony, and that’s just one of many loose threads in this loose cannon B-movie from South of the Border.

Luis Alberti is Captain Guerrero, who finishes up an afternoon of drinking and gambling with a pal by intervening when two women (Mayra Batalla and Frida Jiser) trying to report a mass grave they’ve found are hassled by cartel goons and corrupt cops.

The captain is so celebrated and intimidating that he wins the stand-off with a legion of armed mob minions and local police, and gets to just walk away after having shot a couple of bad guys — including one with a badge.

That’s the logic here. Don’t judge “how they do things in Mexico” and don’t pay too much attention to how things transpire. Try not to get too far ahead of the utterly formulaic plot and don’t sweat the layers and layers of plot lapses and genre tropes and cliches.

When’s that next shootout, compadres?

Captain Guerrero is part of a unit called Murcielagos — “bats.” The cartel leader they’re hunting (Noé Hernández) and his brother (Israel Islas) have it in for these soldiers, blaming them for killing their father. That’s why they filled a ditch with dead soldiers, which the two women — one of them on her way for an abortion — find.

The villains ambush Guerrero and his closest subordinates — nicknamed Tanque, Pollo, Toro and Combo (Leonardo Alonso, Luis Curiel, Guillermo Nava, David Calderón León) — when they’re off duty, heading north for a U.S. shopping trip.

When the army men turn the tide and wipe out their ambushers, it’s game on as they’re on foot, the bad guys’ “dogs” are in pursuit (Ishbel Baustista plays their ace tracker) and the only hope for our heroes is a “safe” extraction either near the border, or across it in Texas.

The movie sets up several promising subtexts, and all but forgets almost every one of them as we lurch from shoot-out to shoot-out, with the Murcielagos battling long odds and never missing what they aim at — unless it’s a senior bad guy, whom they wound. So he can make a speech.

After every firefight that the five survive, they “report,” aka “sound off” — “Combo STANDING,” “Tanque STANDING…”

The shootouts are first-rate, in that “bad guys mostly miss, good guys never do” way.

Alberti is a most charismatic lead, and Hernández does what he can with the doting dad/ranting, raving and murderous drug lord at work stereotype. The willowy Bautista was an interesting choice to play the tough broad killer/tracker “Cobra.”

But nothing here is written or directed in a way to make it memorable beyond that moment when the credits start and Netflix is trying to convince you to begin watching something else without giving you the chance to say “Not so fast.”

Rating: TV-MA, graphic violence, drug abuse, profanity

Cast: Luis Alberti, Leonardo Alonso, Luis Curiel, Guillermo Nava, David Calderón León, Mayra Batalla, Frida Jiser, Ishbel Bautista, Israel Islas and Noé Hernández

Credits: Directed by Chava Cartas, scripted by Jose Ruben Escalante Mendez . A Netflix release.

Running time: 1:24

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Movie Preview: Ron Howard takes Sydney Sweeney, Ana de Armas, Jude Law, Daniel Bruehl and Vanessa Kirby to “Eden”

The Galapagos Islands, 1934, Germans get away to “Eden.” Things don’t work out the way they’d hoped.

This parable of human nature and class and the venality of man opens April 3.

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Movie Preview: Waiting for “The Surfer” to snap — Because he’s Nicolas Freakin’ Cage

Payback’s a Bitch, Down Under. And it comes courtesy of an Academy Award Winner.

May 2.

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Movie Review: DIY Cinema at its Indian Best — “Superboys of Malegaon”

A plucky crew of India’s working poor, tired of being busted for pirating movies, set out to make their own in the amusing and engaging true-story dramedy “Superboys of Malegaon.”

They’re do-it-yourselfers of the most adorable variety, turning a bicycle with training wheels into a camera dolly and a loom operator in a sweatshop into a superhero in a picture that’s a little “Meet the Fabelmans,” a little more “Cinema Paradiso” and a lot “Be Kind Rewind.”

Nasir is a film fanatic working in his brother Nihal’s Prince Video Parlour in 1990s Malegaon, a little regarded backwater city in Western India. Nasir (Adarsh Gourav) adores Keaton and Chaplin and can’t understand why the locals won’t show up when he puts their silent films on the screen of this “parlour,” which is more a makeshift storefront cinema than a video store.

Who has money for VCRs or DVD players? Shell out a few rupees and watch whatever this parlour or its many competitors are “showing.” Yes, it’s “illegal.” But in a country famous for a century of traveling truck cinemas serving a cast country with few theaters and almost no TV sets, it’s a business model that fits the marketplace.

Nasir shares his love of Bruce Lee movies with the beautiful Mallika (Riddhi Kumar). But can a part time ticket taker at the Prince and sometime wedding videographer support a wife and family? His brother (Gyanendra Tripathi) knows better. Her family doesn’t think so, either.

Nasir watches movies like a student, straining to understand how scenes, close-ups and editing achieve emotional responses. He experiments with framing and shot selection as he shoots those wedding videos.

Being Muslim, he’s learned the difference between films that are chaste and “halal” and those considered too racy for Indian Muslim consumption — “haram.”That’s how he learns to edit, substiuting other scenes — often goofy — for romantic sexuality in the cinema. And that’s how he realizes he has a flair for visual comedy.

When the police single out the Prince Video Parlour for a raid, bribes won’t be enough to bring them back from the dead. They need unique content, big crowds and no raids or fresh bribes. Let’s “make our OWN movies.”

No, this isn’t Bollywood. But with assorted pals pitching in, the kid brother figures he can crank out a parody of an Indian hit for 12,000 rupees.

“Sholay in Malegaol” will “end all this nonsense about ‘piracy,'” he enthuses (in Hindi with subtitles).

His idealistic, prickly older writer-friend Farogh (Vineet Kumar Singh, quite good) will help him come up with a script. Others can pitch in as crew and even as actors. Some are born to be on camera. Will long-suffering weaver Shafique (Shashank Arora, terrific) realize his dream of escaping the sweatshops and acting his way to fame?

They need to find one Muslim woman willing to act, and act without a veil or hijab. The sassy dancer Trupti (Manjiri Pupala, delightful) will do it for a price. And perks — “separate dressing area” and somebody to look after her baby during takes — are a must.

The plot features artistic vs commercial debates between our director and writer, the uncertainty of whether the comedy they’re making will “play” for local audiences, domestic life changes and challenges and all the usual pitfalls of group filmmaking as it’s depicted in movies — some get “rich” and famous, others are misued, cast aside, passed-over.

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Movie Preview: Cera leaves K. Stew for a Road Trip with Michael Angarano to “Sacramento”

That’s the most Michael Cera thing ever, right?

April 11.

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BOX OFFICE: This Oscar Weekend, you should catch “Last Breath”

Yes, “Captain America: Give the ManChildren What they Crave” will probably collect another “win” in the doldrums of February’s box office.Will it earn the $15 million some are projecting, based on Friday’s numbers? Probably not. I’m thinking $12 is more like it, seeing as how it lost close to 70% of its opening weekend take on its second weekend, which was Feb. 21-23.

But “Last Breath” is the best movie opening wide this weekend. OK, it’s the ONLY movie opening wide this weekend.No, Fathom Events doesn’t really count.

“My Dead Friend Zoe” is taking up fewer screens in limited release, and it’s a good bet for a moving and entertaining afternoon or night out as well.

If you missed any or a lot of the Oscar contenders this year, most have fled the screens and you’ll have to wait for Sunday night’s outcome to see “Conclave,” if it cleans up as it has in some earlier awards outings, or “Anora” (God forbid), or anything that wins and isn’t already on Netflix or Amazon Prime.

“A Complete Unknown” is still in some theaters and steadily hanging around as it climbs towards the $80 million mark.

Deadline.com is predicting a $15 million weekend for the latest “Captain America” iteration. That may be high. $12 million?

“Last Breath” has Woody Harrelson and Simu Liu and little chance of clearing $10 million. Or $9. Maybe $7, based on the $1 million it earned from Thursday night previews. Good thrillers deserve better. Check it out.

“The Monkey” should clear $6, with the best kids film in theaters, “Paddington in Peru”($4.5), “Dog Man”($4) and “Ne Zha 2” ($1.6), “Heart Eyes” ($1.3), “The Unbreakable Boy”($1.2) and a new GKids (anime) release, “Mobile Sult Gundam GQuuuuuuX-Beginning,” ($1 million) whose title rolls off the tongue in Japanese, will pick over the scraps of what will be one of the worst performing box office weekends on Hollywood’s biggest night of the year.

As the theaters will be largely empty, it’ll be a great weekend to go — seeing as how measles is back in Texas and cranks are in charge of the nation’s health. You don’t want to be sitting too close to anybody, especially with your kids.

I’ll update these figures as the weekend progresses.

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Movie Review: Cute and sweet and challenging — REALLY challenging — “The Unbreakable Boy”

In the years since Hollywood “discovered” autism, the tendency has been for movies to treat those carrying this burden as more “Rain Man” quirky and cute than “Rain Man” challenging.

Symptoms and behaviors might come and go as the plot required. The burden for the caregivers and for the person trapped in autistic tics, coping mechanisms and manias would show up as the occasional “reminder” of the day-in/day-out difficulties facing those diagnosed or undiagnosed and their families.

But the ebullient autistic child in “The Unbreakable Boy” reminds us that this malady is a lot to deal with. Because he’s a LOT. Period.

Austin, aka “Auz Man” is a manic chatterbox who lives his waking hours at near full speed and top volume. All it takes is a mean and clever classmate to crack “I want the truth!” to send Auz Man on an uninterruptible run through the entire “You can’t HANDLE the truth” speech from “A Few Good Men.”

Class at his Oklahoma middle school? It might as well be dismissed until Austin is done — which could be never as he’s memorized this entire movie, among many others — or removed from their midsts.

“The Unbreakable Boy” is a manipulative weeper that doesn’t so much hurl one huge challenge/obstacle/setback/test or unpleasant revelation after another at the viewer, as gently introduce them for our entertainment.

Austin is born not just with autism, but with Osteogenesis Imperfecta, brittle bone disease. He’s a manic, uncontrollable child who demands constant attention lest he heedlessly break another bone.

Austin’s mother Teresa (ahem) (Meghann Fahy) had it. That’s not something she mentioned on the first, second or third dates with his pharmaceutical-rep Dad, Scott (Zachary Levi). No, she brought it up after she lets baby-daddy know she’s pregnant, and before he’s learned her last name. Or that she’s been married before. Twice.

That’s OK, because Scott is an alleged grown-ass man who never gave up his “invisible friend.” Now “Joe” (Drew Powell) is dad’s invisible drinking buddy.

There’s an Oklahoma joke in all that. But the movie is too cheerfully upbeat and bubbly to tell it and frankly too-invested in turning this kid into a life-affirming metaphor for boundless optimism, ignoring all obstacles and sugar-coating a whole lot of problems that come with a family this challenged.

The line between “uplifting” and “cringy”; is a narrow one here.

In writer-director Jon Gunn’s script, chatterbox Austin (Jacob Laval) narrates the story of his life, mostly in a flashback from “the day everything broke” as his alcoholic dad took one drunken drive with the kids (Gavin Warren plays Auz-Man’s younger brother Logan) too many.

The endless parade of medical problems facing Austin’s birth and the accidental family formed by this child (Patricia Heaton of “Everybody Loves Raymond” plays dad Scott’s mother) can only be surmounted by constant adjustments, constant stumbles, the occasional ultimatum, a smile and a homily.

“I wish I could enjoy anything the way my son enjoys EVERYthing!”

There’s a faith-based subtext clumsily and half-heartedly grafted onto the story (Peter Facinelli plays a pastor who’s had his “challenges”). And the “true story” anchoring all this doesn’t tidy up the logic or unreality of it all. A tiny but telling example — there’s a father-son church group campout coming up. Scott drives a Toyota Land Cruiser, with roof rack, snorkel and front bumper towing wench. Scott lives in Oklahoma. But Scott tells us “I HATE camping!”

At least the kid is gratingly bubbly, if a tad insufferable.

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