New to the Queue

Our better half ...

A documentary highlighting the random reminiscences of 1960s-70s B-list actor Hampton Fancher, "Escapes."

The narratively bereft visual collage from Argentinean director Gastón Solnicki, "Kekszakallu."

 Gillian Robespierre again casts Jenny Slate from "Obvious Child," for this '90s-era family dramedy, "Landline."

God help us, but we're drawn to the Charlize Theron spectacle, at least for a rental down the line, "Atomic Blonde." 

SNL's offbeat Kyle Mooney and his pals made a bizarre movie about a 20-something who was held captive as a child, and we're in: "Brigsby Bear."

A tribute to pioneering Native American performers, including the trailblazing Link Wray, "Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World." 

Soundtrack of Your Life: Rock 'n' Roll Never Forgets

An occasional feature in which we mark the songs of our relative youth as played over public muzak systems and beyond.  

Date: 29 July 2017, 9:05 a.m.
Place: Walking past the Broken Arrow Tap Room, Inn of the Mountain Gods near Ruidoso, N.M.
Song:  "Feel Like a Number"
Artist: Bob Seger
Irony Matrix: 3.7 out of 10

Comment: I was big into Bob Seger as a teen. It was his potent mix of muscular Detroit rock 'n' roll and his earnest, confessional lyrics that spoke to a young male still forming an emotional self and a worldview. He was a cruder, cred'er Springsteen -- maybe it was the long hair and beard. It started with Night Moves, the album and the song, released in 1976 -- alongside the other hits, the cheesy "Rock 'n' Roll Never Forgets" and the wistful "Mainstreet," and the rougher workout "The Fire Down Below"

"Live Bullet," released the same year, allowed us to experience the band live and work backward into the catalog --- the blistering Side 3 culminating in "Katmandu," the most perfect rock song I could image at that time. There were the R&B covers, "Nutbush City Limits," the epic "Let It Rock." The howling saxophones on "Turn the Page" still pierce deep to this day.

Bob hit it big by '78 with the album "Stranger in Town," barreling out of the gates with "Hollywood Nights" and including my favorite song of his, "Still the Same," and my mom's favorite wedding reception song, "Old Time Rock 'n' Roll," not to mention the prom-theme standard "We've Got Tonight."

It's that album where you'll find "Feel Like a Number" closing out Side 1. It's a working-man song that rivals anything Springsteen or Merle Haggard could crank out on their assembly lines.

Gonna cruise out of this city
Head down to the sea
Gonna shout out to the ocean
"Hey, it's me!"
And I feel like a number ...

Fed up with being just a statistic, a "spoke in a great big wheel," just another folder in a bureaucrat's file, he implores: "Dammit, I'm a man!" When I heard it earlier today, I was taking a break from an attorneys bar conference just outside Ruidoso, N.M., at a majestic golf resort that burrows into the earth as well as puffing its chest out into nature via two-story window panels that gawk out onto a view that truly looks unreal, like a massive, meticulous painting. There's an elegantly rippling man-made lake, a sea of unnatural green, a forest that you wouldn't expect to see in a desert, its furry trees crowding hills and climbing mountains in the distance.  This human-engineered spectacle was created by the Mescalero Apache Tribe on their land and dubbed, immodestly, the Inn of the Mountain Gods. Nice ring.

Bob Seger's music had a majesty to it. But by 1980, his tank was nearing empty. He was running up "Against the Wind," and his feel for middle-class angst was slowly abandoning him. The earnestness was morphing into mawkishmess. He and the Silver Bullet Band struck live gold one more time with "Nine Tonight" in 1981, but by the mid-'80s he was churning out harmless adult-contemporary fare like "You'll Accomp'ny Me" and covering John Fogerty. And what the hell does "Like a Rock" mean? Was he truly feeling like that emotionally hollow post-WWII male? And what does it mean in the context of a commercial for a Chevy pickup truck? "Yessir, she drives like a rock!" No thanks. "Like a Rock" is rote, mechanical songwriting -- the same affliction that often doomed the likes of Billy Joel and Paul McCartney in the '80s -- stone cold proficiency.

But back in the '70s, there was a raw power to Seger's music that shared DNA with the rest of the Michigan crew -- the MC5, the Stooges, even Ted Nugent ("Stranglehold"!). It must have sounded corny at the time of punk and new wave, but it never felt like a guilty pleasure, either then or now.

With "Feel Like a Number" stuck in my head, I returned to the frigid Grand Ballroom for the remainder of the plenary session covering the various pitfalls leading to legal malpractice, including Pac-Man defense-attorney insurance policies (whatever those are) and proposed changes to Rule 16-101 regarding the use of social media. I earned 1.5 professional ethics credits toward my quota of continuing legal education (CLE) credits for the calendar year. I wanted to stand before that man-made lake and shout out to the world, "Dammit, I'm not a number!"

I wrote this up during a break between sessions and then met a new acquaintance at the Gathering of Nations Buffet for lunch.



Bonus track: "Still the Same":



Go on and "Let It Rock" ("We're reCORdin' tonight!"):

Love Story: Part II

LOVESONG (A-minus) - Riley Keough cements her status as a serious player in independent films in this story of an unhappily married mom who renews a crush on her best friend from college only to be frustrated by the timing of their interactions.

Keough, the best thing about last year's "American Honey," brings new life to the familiar role of the unsatisfied spouse. Years ago, we were convinced that Lisa Marie Presley (Elvis' daughter) was going to break big on the entertainment scene; she just had a look. She married Michael Jackson instead. But she also married a guy named Keough and begat young Riley, who makes you want to believe that talent skips a generation as she fulfills the promise of her mother.

Here she is as Sarah, a put-upon mom of a precocious toddler named Jessie (Jessie Ok Gray), who annoyingly dominates the first 20 minutes of the film. (We know that she's a plot device as a handful and a drain on Sarah, but damn, it is no fun in any context to watch some chubby-cheeked kid of one of the filmmakers (here, the co-writer, Bradley Rust Gray); it's an indie-film phenomenon that has sunk more than one Joe Swanberg project.) Sarah's husband is frequently off on lengthy business trips, so he is both literally and figuratively distant, while she bears the burden of this brat.

Sarah gets a surprise visit from college pal Mindy (Jena Malone from the "Hunger Games" series), a free-spirit and a positive-thinking pixie. You sense an old spark between these two from the start and a stirring of what might have been 15 years or so ago. The two grab Jessie and hit the road for a random adventure, smoothly reverting to their former carefree selves.

Some motel drinking leads to a bit of intimacy -- mostly hinted at -- but the trip ends abruptly after a spat, and Mindy grabs a bus back to New York City. Flash forward three years, and Sarah is on a road trip with the now 6-year-old Jessie (Jessie Ok Gray's much more tolerable sister, Sky), headed to Nashville to attend the wedding of Mindy to a charming guy named Leif (Ryan Eggold).

Sarah stands on the periphery of Mindy's surprising new life (with airhead bridesmaids played by Amy Seimetz and Brooklyn Decker), but as the weekend progresses she finds opportunities to get Mindy's attention, culminating in an attention-getting scene at a bachelorette party. The clock is ticking on Sarah's desires, a subtle nod to Benjamin and Elaine in "The Graduate," or any other rom-com with a race to the altar.

Writer-director So Yong Kim (sharing the script with Gray, who explored similar themes with Keough in 2012's "Jack and Diane") brings a documentary frisson to the proceedings, sharing in the intimacy between the two women.  She is happy to linger, for instance, on a shot of one friend laying her head on the shoulder of the other while smiling off into the distance, or dallying with Sarah and Mindy at a rodeo for no apparent reason.

Malone (who has that look high school girls did in the '70s) is strong as the enigmatic Mindy, particularly in a one-off scene with Rosanna Arquette, in a cameo as Mindy's disapproving mother. Malone has a powerful, natural chemistry with Keough, who expresses yearning in profound ways. Keough resembles Kristen Stewart but exhibits so much more depth. Sarah is deeply unhappy and indecisive, and she aches for real love. Keough's grasp of all of the nuances associated with that is impressive.

Is Sarah's crush on Mindy genuine and feasible or just the manifestation of her loneliness? The movie never really answers that question. Suffice it to say that on the weekend of Mindy's wedding, vows are exchanged and passion is expressed. Who ends up with whom is almost beside the point.

BONUS TRACKS
The pretty song over the closing credits, "Broken Hearted Love Song" by The Shoe:



And look for compelling Marshall Chapman in a tiny role as the mother of the groom. We first spotted her in "Mississippi Grind." Here's her version of "The Nearness of You," which isn't in the movie, but is perfectly appropriate. You can skip to the 2-minute mark for the start of the song.

Holy Crap!* A.M. 880

More road-trip radio ...

KHAC-AM (880) emits a powerful signal from Tse Bonito, N.M., along the state border with Arizona, across from Window Rock, Ariz., along Route 264 in Navajo territory. It was our latest road-trip discovery on the AM dial, as we returned from an arbitration hearing in Farmington up in the Four Corners down Highway 550.

And oh, my god, the station was pumping out some fascinating Christian music. No commercials, no voiceovers, a product, perhaps, of Moody Bible Radio. We stopped on 880 when we heard some wicked guitar distortion that would have made Neil Young and Crazy Horse blanch. Like Scott Biram on Adderall. No clue who the artist is or what the song was called. It sounded like it was coming from another universe. The sound quality was pretty awful. An internet search for a playlist proved fruitless.

That segued into a lovely song with much friendlier guitar picking (with slight echoes of Mark Knopfler's '80s soundtracks), from Anthony Quails, "Acres of Faith":



We were the 65th person to view that one on YouTube. Good luck, Tony.

There was power pop from a band called Foreverlin, sort of a neutered Buffalo Tom or a defeated U2, with the generic "You Remain":



As we approached Cuba, mesmerized by the striated rock formations, a dreamy song played. Shazam captured it and identified it as "New" by Headman, but now that we've traced it down online, that doesn't seem right. Well, anyway, here is the title track on the Headman EP (almost certainly not Christian techno) that also features "New," which we couldn't find, "Running Into Time." (First, the rocks.)

Did we have a religious experience during the 5 o'clock hour? Is there any way we could find that first song, the sonic guitar blast? Was that an illusion? A bleed from a nearby station?

Is there anybody out there?

* - Holy Crap is an occasional series about unique films, cutting a wide swath from brilliant to awful. This is our first foray into radio. Check out previous entries here.
 

Love Story

It's the feel-bad feel-good movie of the summer ...

THE BIG SICK (A-minus) - What so bad about cute? This heartwarming, touching, laugh-out-loud-funny biography tells the story of Kumail and Emily -- charming young people from vastly different ethnic backgrounds -- and the illness that brought them closer.

Kumail Nanjiani and his wife, Emily Gordon, wrote this script based on the early days of their relationship after meeting in Chicago while he was struggling as a standup comic. Nanjiani (a standout amid the stellar cast of HBO's "Silicon Valley") stars as his younger self, and the adorable Zoe Kazan steps in as Emily, who has a meet-cute with Kumail after heckling him during one of his sets at a local club.

The two have a warm rapport, each with the right level of Gen X sarcasm, but things fall apart after only a matter of months because Kumail refuses to reveal the relationship to his super-traditionalist Pakistani parents. His parents relentlessly try to set him up at family dinners with young Pakistani women who just happen to drop by while in the neighborhood. Kumail keeps a cigar box full of their head shots, but an arranged marriage is just one of the cultural shackles he wants no part of.

Emily finally walks out on Kumail, dooming him to those family dinners and unsatisfying one-night stands. One day he gets a call from a friend of Emily's who asks Kumail to look in on Emily at the ER after she had a fainting spell. Emily takes a turn for the worse, and doctor's pressure him into giving consent to place her in a medical-induced coma.

Emily will spend most of the rest of the movie in that coma. Her parents drive up from the South to be with their daughter, and they want nothing to do with the man who broke their daughter's heart. Beth and Terry are played by Holly Hunter and Ray Romano, who have a fine chemistry with Nanjiani; a few scenes between the men provide nuanced comedy that is rare. Hunter is always welcome whenever she pops up to take on a role. Here she sinks her teeth into the bitter Beth, who billets both men in the same doghouse; it turns out that Terry is in the process of making amends for a vague indiscretion that slowly reveals itself.

This being a charming film about comedians (in the mode of last year's "Don't Think Twice"), Kumail has pithy interactions with his fellow struggling standups, including a sharp Aidy Bryant as Mary, plus a few interchangeable mildly funny guys. (Kurt Braunohler as the hacky Chris is the best of the rest.) They really are just comic set pieces, mere narrative necessities in support of Nanjiani and Kazan (a stand out in "Some Girl(s)" and HBO's "Bored to Death"), who is a crucial bookend to the film, right down to the beautiful echo that closes out the movie.

A running plot line involves a comedy competition that builds toward a showdown in which Kumail must take the spotlight immediately after receiving dire news about Emily taking a turn for the worse. He bombs in epic fashion because he can't focus on anything but his love for Emily.

By this point, Beth and Terry are softening toward Kumail. Meantime, his relationship with his family is disintegrating.He floats in a bizarre purgatory where he finds himself distraught over a woman who wanted nothing to do with him, even in the ER.

This illness is not destined to end in a tragic death -- not in a Sundance darling with Judd Apatow's fingerprints on it. (And if you have heard anything remotely to do with the origins of the film and pay attention to the opening credits, you'll know what to expect at the end.) And speaking of Apatow, his influence is almost certainly connected to the main flaw -- the movie, at two full hours, is about 20 minutes too long, with a third half hour that drags so much you just want to pull the plug on poor Emily.

But Nanjiani and his director, Michael Showalter ("Hello, My Name Is Doris," "Wet Hot American Summer"), strike a perfect balance among the comic voice, the deep romance and the movie-of-the-week medical weeper. You forgive some of the sappier moments, mainly because this all feels grounded in real life, and in real life, sap happens. What Nanjiani and the real Emily have created is not just the feel-good movie of the season but also, arguably, the best film of the year so far.
 

Amor Apasionado

Los Lobo charmed Albuquerque on a drizzly Saturday night at the outdoor Summerfest with a perfect mix of hits, Tex-Mex rhythms, blues workouts, cumbias and heritage songs. The triple-guitar assault from Louie Perez and the lead singers, David Hidalgo and Cesar Rosas, provide truly an all-ages show to the crowd savoring the free show on Route 66 at the start of monsoon season.

There was some tube-snake boogie from Rosas, which kicked off the East L.A. band's breakthrough album of 1984. Here's a clip of "Don't Worry Baby" from Farm Aid back in the day:



A little before 10 o'clock, after the rain had passed, a cool breeze kicked in about midway through a highlight of the night, the Hidalgo heartbreaker "A Matter of Time," also from "How Will the Wolf Survive?":



Hidalgo took up the bandoneon for a stretch of songs in the middle of the set. The band knows its way around the region's traditional music. Rosas crooned what is essentially the New Mexico state anthem, "Volver, Volver":



The band did not forget its Ritchie Valens covers, including "La Bamba" (a medley with the '60s nugget "Good Lovin'"), and "Come On Let's Go":



The boys burned up the end of their set with one of their best songs, the psych-blues romp "Mas y Mas" from 1996's under-appreciated "Colossal Head," as the drizzle doubled back for an encore:



One time, one night in America ...

One-Liners: Odd Couples

BEATRIZ AT DINNER (B) - Writer Mike White and director Miguel Arteta re-team for another of their stories about a flawed, determined woman battling her own demons as well as the powers that be.

Here, Salma Hayek is the earnest striver, Beatriz, a physical therapist and new-age healer who falls into the orbit of the well-to-do by virtue of helping treat a couple's daughter who suffered from cancer. When we meet Beatriz, she is massaging Cathy (Connie Britton from TV's "Nashville"), and afterward, when Beatriz's beater won't start, Cathy invites her to dinner, which is a snooty business affair with two other couples.

The center of attention is Doug Strutt (John Lithgow), a Trump-like developer who has no guilt about his ravaging of the environment and local economies. Beatriz, as the fish out of water, becomes the truth-teller at this gathering of boorish elites. Lithgow digs his fangs into the role without playing it broad or farcical. He and Hayek perform a fascinating pas de deux, as actors and through their characters.

White and Arteta first teamed for "Chuck & Buck" (2002) and followed it two years later with "The Good Girl," with Jennifer Aniston in the familiar role of snakebit striver. The pair reunited a few years ago for one of the best TV shows of the past decade, HBO's "Enlightened" (starring Laura Dern as a bumbling force of nature). Here, Hayek digs deep into the soul of Beatriz, creating layers that keep this from descending into a Stooges-like pie fight between the snobs and the hoi polloi.

The supporting cast, corralled by Britton's subtle effort, lights up the edges of the screen. Chloe Sevigny and Jay Duplass are a delight as an airhead couple who have stumbled into riches. (Her entrance -- scoffing at the gravel in the driveway -- sets a snippy tone early.) Amy Landecker ("Enough Said," "A Serious Man") lags a bit as Doug's tolerably middle-aged trophy wife.

A narrative trick near the movie's climax feels like a bit of a cheat, but by that point the film has earned respect, and the point of this polemic has already been made. Enjoy Hayek and the gang as they toss around White's intellectual football.

HATESHIP LOVESHIP (2014) (C+) - Kristen Wiig is a bizarre curiosity in this trifle about a wallflower striving to make something of her life, despite the obviously poor choices she has made over the years and the obstacles others create for her.

Wiig is sad sack Johanna Parry, a home health-care aide who dutifully sees to the final moments of her longtime elderly ward in the opening scene. Her next assignment is to take care of snotty teen Sabitha (Hailee Steinfeld), who lives with her gruff grandfather (Nick Nolte, particularly gruff) after her mother dies and her father, Ken (Guy Pearce), struggles with a drug addiction back in Chicago. Sabitha and her androgynous pal, Edith (Sami Gayle, TV's "Blue Bloods"), think it would be a hoot to trick Johanna into thinking that Ken has a crush on Johanna and is wooing her via email.

Johanna falls for the ruse and lands on the doorstep of Ken, who is supposed to be rehabbing a motel but is merely flopping in it and whoring around with the despicable enabler Chloe (a nicely understated Jennifer Jason Leigh). Johanna, embarrassed and appalled, is determined to try to make a go of things anyway. She dutifully tends to Ken and the rundown digs, with a simplistic obsequiousness somewhere in the range of Rain Man and Forrest Gump.

You might not make it that far in this undercooked drama from director Liza Johnson, based on an Alice Munro short story. Wiig shows little range in a zombie-like performance. She was delightfully quirky in "Welcome to Me," pointedly dour in "The Skeleton Twins," and sharp and complex in "Nasty Baby" and "The Diary of a Teenage Girl." But here she struggles to find a compelling voice, and Johnson seems to be of no assistance. The tone seems off throughout.

Nolte and Pearce are workmanlike, and Christine Lahti is a sight for sore eyes in a minor role. Steinfeld and Gayle bring little to the proceedings, fumbling the tension between the teens that feels forced. This one has a payoff at the end, but it's a chore to sit through its 104-minute length.

BONUS TRACKS
"Hateship Loveship" boasts a fine classic-country soundtrack, including nuggets old (George Jones' "Why Baby Why") and more recent ("I'm Getting Known (For All the Wrong Reasons" by Larry Dean), blaring from a rattle-trap radio. The best of the lot comes at the end, from Tammy Wynette, "Til I Get It Right":


 

Now & Then

For our occasional series, we change it up a bit and consider "The Beguiled" -- Sofia Coppola's latest -- and the 1971 original from Don Siegel and starring Clint Eastwood. Previous "Now & Then" entries may be found here.

THE BEGUILED (B-minus) - A surprisingly un-suspenseful and undercooked Civil War period piece about a prim school for girls in the South that takes in a handsome injured Yankee soldier for some psycho-sexual intrigue.

A fine cast can't really lift Sofia Coppola's limp script and direction. Nicole Kidman is the stern headmistress, Kirsten Dunst is the aging spinster (she must be over 30!), and Elle Fanning plays a willing young seductress -- all vying for the attention of Cpl. McBurney (the too handsome and polite Colin Farrell).

Coppola, one of the best modern storytellers of the new millennium (see our list below), has grown less adventurous in recent outings. "The Bling Ring" was exciting but felt a bit shallow; other efforts, such as "Somewhere," have depth but can drag. You could make an argument that, with maybe an exception here or there, that each film has been slightly weaker than the previous one.

Here, there just isn't enough intrigue, suspense or sexual tension to make for a riveting story. The women and girls underplay their roles to the point of sleepwalking through the movie. A great storyteller is getting lost in the mist.

THE BEGUILED (1971) (B+) - From the '70s male perspective, we give you a much pulpier version that delivers more on its era's calling cards -- sex, gore, and psychological games.

Clint Eastwood's Cpl. McBurney is much more wolfish and direct than poor Colin Ferrell's; here, McBurney makes no bones about his ardor for each woman, overtly seducing the headmistress (Geraldine Page), the virginal wallflower (Elizabeth Hartman, playing 22 here, much younger than Dunst), and the randy teenager (a spicy Jo Ann Harris). It's clear that he's a player when, in the opening scene, he kisses 12-year-old Amy (Pamelyn Ferdin, familiar to '70s TV watchers). Everyone here is better than in the remake. It is much clearer that all of the women, even little Amy -- and, in the background quiet Doris (Darleen Carr, another TV regular of the time) -- are crushing on Cpl. McDreamy, and the sexual sparks are readily apparent. Page, as the matron (in this version, with a saucy family secret), is a much more believable dowager type than Kidman, who comes with that modern, sculpted age-defying beauty.

Director Don Siegel forgoes oblique mood-setting for more in-your-face drama and intrigue. Some of his choices are cheesy and outdated -- an omnipresent black crow offering foreshadowing; voice-overs to convey characters' thoughts and motivations; unnecessary camera flourishes -- but he remembers to do what Coppola chose not to: sell the story. Sure, Siegel is crude where Coppola is subtle, stylish and tasteful, but this ain't beanbag here. It's intended as a riveting tale of loneliness, Southern traditions, war & slavery, human compassion and carnal desire. Siegel, faults and all, gets that. Coppola wanted to make a different film (one that makes the Civil War an afterthought and eliminates the one slave character at the school), and that's her choice. Her product is prim and moody; Siegel's gets its fingernails dirty.

Pick your poison, so to speak.

BONUS TRACK
A cataloging of our favorite Sofia Coppola movies, from our favorite to the least liked. Others might make a list that more clearly shows diminishing returns with each release, putting her debut film first and her most recent one last.

• Lost in Translation (2003)
• The Virgin Suicides (1999)
• Somewhere (2010)
• The Bling Ring (2013)
• The Beguiled (2017)
• Marie Antoinette (2006)

And we would drop her 2015 TV special "A Very Murray Christmas" smack dab in the middle of that list.

  

Seriously?!

GET OUT (C) - Neither funny nor suspenseful, this genre mashup must have seemed like a great idea on paper. But in the hands of a first-time director, and with a dull cast, this morality play about how blacks are treated in a white world is just slow-paced and confounding.

Maybe I missed the wink to black viewers and to sensitive liberals about how Important this film is. And it certainly has a worthwhile message to convey -- everyday life inside the white power structure can seem like a literal horror story for even the most mild and acquiescent of black men. In the end, they are deemed less than human.

Got it. But "Get Out" is not the vehicle for successfully conveying that message. Here, very funny Jordan Peele ("Keanu," TV's "Key & Peele") debuts as writer-director, with clunky results. He follows Chris (Daniel Kaluuya) and his white girlfriend Rose (a tedious Allison Williams from HBO's "Girls") as they head upstate to meet her parents and brother. Leave it to Peele to misuse Catherine Keener and Bradley Whitford as Rose's parents. Most of the actors here are either miscast or wasted, with little sense of an ensemble effort. No one expects Williams to bring much to the show, but Keener is an alchemist, and she looks almost embarrassed to be a part of this.

The gimmick here is Peele's use of horror and zombie tropes to turn Chris' experience into a hellish nightmare. Seemingly innocuous or familiar standard-issue-polite racism, delivered by a smiling Obama voter, turns horrific. The problem is that Peele has the white actors deliver all of their lines in a way that is ham-handed and clunky. I know he is going for an automaton effect at some point, but it doesn't work. He is a rookie trying to produce a modern "Rosemary's Baby," building dread minute by minute, but he ends up in "Scary Movie" territory. He wants to be an auteur, but he doesn't have the voice or the chops yet.

You see, all is not as it seems at first. Or maybe it is. The first half hour of set up is dreadfully slow. An opening scene involves a young black man (Lakeith Stanfield from "Short Term 12") being plucked from the streets for Walking While Black; he'll turn up later. Cut to the cozy urban apartment of Chris and Rose, two people devoid of chemistry, which makes you wonder why Chris would agree to visit her parents or put up with them and her overtly racist brother for more than an hour before exiting gracefully back to the city.

But this is a movie, so we go along with it. At a party, each of the family's white friends is issued a preciously awkward line to throw at Chris, in order to exhibit their obvious latent racism. We won't spoil the rest of the gimmicky plot, but rest assured that inherent evil lurks in the hearts of Chris' jovial tormentors. When true torment eventually ensues, it comes out of left field and has a B-movie gore that would make Vincent Price roll his eyes.

The saving grace here is LilRel Howery (TV's "The Carmichael Show") as Chris' pal Rod, an uber-proud TSA apparatchik who is constantly warning his buddy by phone about the obvious trap that has been set up. Howery brings actual energy and genuine comedic skills to a surprisingly underwhelming farce, playing the ironic role of the black observer yelling at the hero to "Get Out." It's the only clever bit in the film. (As a whole, there is a shocking dearth of funny lines.)

Not as lucky are Marcus Henderson and Betty Gabriel as the family's servants, seemingly lobotomized, docile domestics whose characterizations are more odd and confusing than, as intended, ominous. Like Chris, they are victims here of an errant production and a poorly thought-out polemic.
  

Awkward Reunions

DONALD CRIED (A-minus) - Add to the pantheon of all-time indie-film freaks and geeks Kris Avedisian's obnoxious Donald, a man-child who can't contain his giddiness when his former high school pal, Peter, returns to their Rhode Island hometown to settle his grandmother's affairs.

Avedisian wrote and directed the screenplay and stars as Donald, the epitome of arrested development, a man who probably still sports the same haircut (a self-chopped mullet) and wire-rimmed glasses from the '90s. Peter (Jesse Wakeman, who helped develop the story) has cleaned up in the 20 or so years since high school, and he now thrives in the banking industry in Manhattan. Having lost his wallet on the bus ride up to Rhode Island, he ventures across from his grandmother's house to bum a ride and a few bucks from the pal he used to share dope-smoking and heavy-metal music with back in the day.

And there is Donald, on cue, emerging from his home into the bitter January cold, amid piles of shoveled snow, wearing a cheap bathrobe to toss a bag of trash into the garbage can at the curb. Soon he is chauffeuring Peter around town, desperately trying to rekindle the flame with his old bud, who acts like he wishes he were anyplace else on Earth. Donald exhibits classic Asperger symptoms, not even remotely perceiving the massive cold shoulder being turned his way. He seems oblivious to social cues and the fact that most adults evolve over the course of a couple of decades. Peter, meantime, is clearly freaked out by the memories of his hometown and the young man he used to be.

Avedisian the actor creates a frightening character, as if he'd been work-shopping Donald for years (the film began as a short in 2012); Avedisian the director has a natural affinity for the verite style, mixing modern Duplass sensibilities with Cassavetes '70s creepiness. He shoots in the dead of winter in small-town Rhode Island in apparent natural ice and snow, taking full advantage of the soul-deadening setting, particularly during a hilarious impromptu game of touch football in which Donald and Peter work out deep-seated aggressions.

The journeys of these two men during their weekend interaction are equally compelling. No surprise that Donald will wear Peter down and get him to let down his guard a bit, engaging in some old-school bonding. A final-reel twist, combined with a stinging betrayal provides the perfect cap to this trainwreck of a reunion.

Bookending and triangulating events is Louisa Krause as Kristin, a realtor (and younger sister of another of the guys' old classmates) who flirts with Peter in the opening scene at his grandmother's house and then returns late in the film to lure him to a pathetic cancer benefit, the perfect spot for a morose drunken hookup attempt. Her manic energy masks an insecurity, and Krause nails each comic beat.

The title of the film comes from a story dating to the high school days, when Peter pulled a humiliating prank on Donald. Reunited, the two men fall into old habits and a familiar pecking order. Donald is just begging to be picked on, and Peter is haunted by the urge to indulge the easy target -- which laces the laughs with a bitter taste (like your very first sip of Old Style sophomore year). Those familiar twinges should be familiar to anyone who wasn't the star quarterback or point guard during high school but who instead battled through adolescence to become the adult they are today. You can look back and laugh, but don't be surprised if you flinch, and maybe well up a little, too.

HERMIA & HELENA (C) - This tone poem about 20-something Argentine women rotating through a fellowship in New York City suffers from a deadly combination -- it is difficult to follow, and no one character stands out enough to care about.

Writer-director Matias Piñeiro nods to Mumblecore with snippets of fleeting, mundane dialogue, and at some point in the film he begins tracking backward in time, creating more confusion than artful intrigue. It was all a jumble of soft-focus images, splashes of literary snippets flashing on the screen, and a bunch of slackers who were difficult to keep straight. 

Agustina Muñoz exhibits charm and presence as the ostensible star, playing a woman adrift among relationships who begins exploring her past while translating Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream." A father-daughter reunion during the final third has a bit of punch to it, but too much of the narrative is scattered to the winds, making it near impossible to find a hook to hold onto.

But what do I know? Some other critics praised it. Here's a sampling:

• Richard Brody, New Yorker: "Filming cityscapes and intimate gestures with avid attention, adorning the dialogue with deep confessions and witty asides, Pineiro conjures a cogently realistic yet gloriously imaginative vision of youthful ardor in love and art alike."
• Slant Film: "In fact, it may be Piñeiro’s most inspired and thrilling work to date, exhaustive in its means of keeping the viewer off balance and yet rich in its emotional implications."
• Village Voice: "There are a few different potential films within Hermia & Helena — a Shakespeare adaptation, a tale of romantic relationships, a tale of family — but the totality proves a sunny and affable literary collage."

BONUS TRACKS

Speaking of high school reunions back in your old hometown, this humor piece from Shannon Reed in the New Yorker cleverly spoofs the New York Times' popular "36 Hours" travel feature: "Thirty-Six Hours in . . . YourHome Town!"

And the sad little cancer benefit in "Donald Cried" features a bunch of single women half-heartedly dancing to Wang Chung's "Dance Hall Days":

 

Obsessions

SUNTAN (A-minus) - This fascinating character study follows a sad-sack middle-aged doctor exiled on a Greek island where he comes alive during the summer tourist season, latching on to a group of free-spirited young adults who toy with his feelings.

Shlubby, balding Kostis (Makis Papadimitriou) is an emotional cripple, for reasons that are only barely hinted at. He melted down at his last residency, and now he is slumming as the sole physician treating locals and tourists. When Anna (Elli Tringou) and her randy pals show up in his office after her minor scooter accident, Kostis falls for her flip flirtations and accepts their half-serious invitation to hang out with them at the beach.

Ah, the beach. It is a hedonist's paradise. There is unabashedly full frontal nudity, with impossibly lean young bodies glistening in the island sun, as these young adults (they can't be much older than 20) frolic like horny high-schoolers on spring break, publicly exploring each others' bodies in various combinations. Kostis is smitten with Anna, who encourages his attention, from the moment she greets him topless on the beach (while he slathers on the sunblock, dons a floppy hat and lights up a cigarette).

This gang of three women and two men treat Kostis as a curiosity, but soon he is like a teenager himself, hustling patients out the door at 3 p.m. so that he can swing by the liquor store for beer to bring to his new pals at the beach and to stay out till the wee hours among the partying tourists and the wolfish local men. When Anna tells him she's bored with the public venue, he takes her to a more secluded retreat, where she immediately gets buck naked, plunges into the emerald waters and eventually emerges, goddess-like, with seduction on her mind -- though it's less a factor of attraction than of boredom. When his performance is less than desired, her ardor dissipates, and their relationship takes a dark turn. Soon he sees the adonises as bitter rivals, and he flips out at the most minor social snub, treating her like a straying spouse.

Kostis soon spirals into depression and a daily alcohol stupor that makes you wonder how he practices medicine during the day. The only clue to the source of his emotional instability is a music box that mournfully plays the wedding march. But it's essentially a mystery as to why he is so vulnerable to Anna's charms.

Some will be creeped out by this rather lurid tale -- the climax is violent and disturbing. But there is something strongly seductive about this sybaritic romp. The psychological struggle, like the vacationing bodies, is raw, and the carnage is distinctly carnal. The male psyche here takes a pummeling, and despite the Edenic setting, it's not a pretty picture.

MOKA (B+) - Emmanuelle Devos is riveting this tale of a mother's desire for revenge for the death of her son.

Devos and her sad eyes are never less than captivating -- check out "Violette," "Read My Lips" and "Gilles' Wife." Here, Devos plays Diane, a grieving mother who is frustrated with the pace of the investigation of the accident in which a couple in a coffee-colored vehicle (thus the title of the film) ran over her bicycling son and fled the scene. Armed with some inside information about the make of the vehicle and a description of the occupants -- including a blond female driver -- Diane travels to the city of Evian for some detective work.

She narrows down the likely suspects to an unmarried couple -- Marlene (Nathalie Baye), who runs a salon, and her hunky gym-rat boyfriend, Michel (David Clavel), who is advertising the car for sale. Diane deals with these two separately (posing as "Helene" during her makeover with Marlene), exploiting their solicitousness.

The film unfolds coolly over a tidy 89 minutes, expertly paced by director Frederic Mermoud (TV's "The Returned"), and Devos and Baye are brilliant as they go toe-to-toe, ratcheting up the tension. Diane has lost her sense of proportion, and so some of her actions are unforgivable (though understandable). The neat little twist at the end is a perfect ending to this quiet gem.
 

New to the Queue

In happier times ...

A mindless, raunchy romp through the Catholic Church in 14th Century Italy has some funny people in it (including Aubrey Plaza, Kate Micucci, Molly Shannon, Fred Armisen, Nick Offerman and John C. Reilly), so we'll check out "The Little Hours."

Errol Morris goes deep for a profile of an old-school portrait artist in "The B-Side: Elsa Dorfman's Portrait Photography."

A little pulp is OK once in a while, especially in the hands of Edgar Wright ("Shaun of the Dead"), so we'll subject our senses to "Baby Driver."

We're on the fence about a return to yesteryear for a look at the reality-TV style of the proto-Trump presidency, "The Reagan Show."

A documentary about a '70s fugitive convicted of killing eight people, "The Skyjacker's Tale."

BONUS TRACK
Rolling Stone has an interesting breakdown of some of the songs in Edgar Wright's "Baby Driver." Here's a link.