Soundtrack of Your Life: Inescapable

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

It's been quite a month of reminders that my generation is having its moment in the sun when it comes to easy listening offerings at grocery stores, banks and post offices. It started in early November during an early Sunday stroll through the produce section at Trader Joe's, kicked off by the enigmatic Morrissey at the height of his powers and followed by a couple of '80s college-radio staples. 

The first batch:

Date: 8 November 2020, 8:20 a.m.

Place: Trader Joe's

Song/Artist:  "Tomorrow" by Morrissey

Song/Artist: "Mexican Radio" Wall of Voodoo

Song/Artist: "Making Plans for Nigel" XTC

Irony Matrix: 3.8 out of 10

Comment: Once again, I find myself performing my consumerist chores before the sun is warm on a Sunday morning. What an '80/early '90s block party that was spun by the virtual DJs who run Trader Joe's marketing division. I imagine Morrissey has endured into the generation of millennial emo hipsters, but Wall of Voodoo and XTC are almost certainly as much a mystery to that cohort as they are to the Boomers and above. This triptych put me in a chipper mood, and I probably bought a few more unnecessary staples than I had intended to when I walked through the door and picked out a $3.99 bouquet of flowers. Mission accomplished, corporate America!

Next:

Date: 12 November 2020, 11:20 a.m.

Place: First Financial Credit Union

Song:  "Last Nite"

Artist: The Strokes

Irony Matrix: 4.3 out of 10

Comment: The homeowners insurance on our rental property did not get fully paid by our credit union that holds the mortgage -- zoot, alors! First-world problems, don't'cha know. While we were waiting in the lobby area for Daisy to come down and get to the bottom of it, the sound system pulsed with this turn-of-the-millennial alternative juggernaut. The Strokes appeared on "Saturday Night Live" recently (we are just so in the pocket these days), and the boys seemed a bit bored and low-energy (though they've mostly kept their hair). But on the stereo speakers of Albuquerque's downtown community financial institution, it was the end of the Clinton era all over again. Hey, Daisy, better have IT check for those Y2K bugs!

And, finally:

Date: 28 November 2020, 11:12 a.m.

Place: U.S. Post Office (Airport)

Song:  "Whip It"

Artist: Devo

Irony Matrix: 4.7 out of 10

Comment: I received a certified letter in my capacity of president of the Silver Hill Neighborhood Association (how much adulting can a grown man stand in the same month?), and to pick it up I had to visit the airport post office. After standing in line in the exterior lobby and inching forward over the course of about 10 minutes, I finally gained entry to the enclosed window area. As I handed by ticket to the honorable public servant, I noticed this Devo hit at an appreciable volume emanating from the sound system. Now, there was a time 40 years ago, at a similar turn of a decade, when the very idea of Devo was so revolutionary that the band's music could create a spontaneous combustion of an oil fire in Ronald Reagan's hair. Even for us late-teen self-identified punk-adjacent wannabe hipsters, Devo were fucking out there. Now, though, their big underground hit is a beloved mainstay of classic-rock radio rotations. Such radical progress we have achieved in these past four decades.

And, now, on with the countdown:

And we all have heard "Whip It" a thousand times. So let's end with a clip of Second City TV's "Brooke Shields Show," featuring Catherine O'Hara as the bratty teen model, with a snippet of performing her version of the Devo classic:

Soviet Reunion

RED PENGUINS (B) - This is quite the ribald tale of the time some Americans thought it would be good, after the fall of the Soviet Union in the early '90s, to purchase a stake in the Russian Red Army hockey team. Lawlessness ensued.

The star here is Steven Warshaw, a lawyer and marketing savant, who relocates to Moscow to start working his magic among the ragtag remnants of the communist era. He implements the equivalent of nickel-beer nights and stripper entertainment between periods. But he must also deal with some shady figures -- some holdovers from the previous administration and some "entrepreneurs" popping up in the newly liberated economy of Russia.

Warshaw, working on behalf of the American owners of the Pittsburgh Penguins, says he expected a certain level of graft but was shocked at the avarice that suckled from the organization. Mob activity was suspected. One holdover, general manager Valery Gushin, still has a glint in his eye as he fondly recalls the Wild West era. While there's fun to be had here, you get the feeling that the playful presentation is glossing over some real harm that resulted from this culture clash. 

Bonus sighting: Longtime Chicago Blackhawks announcer Pat Foley signs on to overdub some play-by-play over some of the archival footage.

THE RUSSIAN FIVE (B-minus) - You'll need to be more than a casual hockey fan to appreciate this documentary about the Detroit Red Wings' early 1990s assemblage of elite Russian hockey players, which unleashed the international model on the NHL. But if you do appreciate the sport (or did back then), you likely will enjoy this heartfelt portrait of those core five players and the championship run they engineered along with longtime North American captain Steve Yzerman.

Newcomer Joshua Riehl produces a slick and warm retelling of a notable era in the NHL while humanizing each man through archival footage and present-day interviews. Random celebrity guest here is actor Jeff Daniels, a lifelong Red Wings fan (and Central Michigan University alum), who conveys the joy the depressed city felt in building toward its first Stanley Cup championships since the postwar glory of Gordie Howe and gang.

Former general manager Jim Devellano is on hand to explain how he transformed the team from the lean 1980s under new ownership to expending draft choices on the stars of the Red Army team who were no guarantees to cross over to the West. At some point, tragedy strikes at the height of the celebrations, and the narrative is leavened with genuine emotion, providing a layer of gravitas to this labor of love.

BONUS TRACK

"Red Penguins" has a lively soundtrack, including this nugget, "Start Wearing Purple" by Gogol Bordello:

Active With the Activists

CRIP CAMP (A-minus) - A bit of a head fake, this documentary about an upstate New York summer camp for handicapped children back in the 1950s, '60s and '70s focuses more on the later activism of some of the camp's alumnae who went on to fight for disability rights. By the end, it is a powerful celebration of their dedication to the cause that led directly to the Americans With Disabilities Act of 1990.

The stars are Judith Heumann, the clear leader of this disability-rights movement, and Jim LeBrecht, an AV geek at Camp Jened who went on to carve out a career as a sound editor and mixer (in film and theater), who co-directs here with Nicole Newnham ("The Rape of Europa"). Archival footage is crucial here, as we get to spend quality time with the camp's residents in the late 1960s, as they let their hair down and raise their consciousness. It is a joy to watch the young people from a different era find a home among others who could understand their situation.

Heumann would go on to recruit some of her former Camp Jened pals to conduct a sit-in at the San Francisco offices of the federal department of Health, Education and Welfare, eventually convincing the nascent Carter administration to enforce laws that the Nixon/Ford administrations had ignored. Her dogged devotion to the cause would culminate in the ADA under the first President Bush. The scene of people with physical challenges crawling up the steps of the Capitol in 1990 to drive home their message packs an emotional wallop as a symbol of decades of struggle.

She, LeBrecht and others are interviewed in the present day to discuss their lifelong triumphs and challenges. The tone throughout is upbeat but not sappy. The title is unfortunate, but the outcome is a success.

I AM GRETA (A-minus) - This is an incredibly intimate portrait of the teenage climate conscience of the world, delving into her world of instant celebrity among admirers who often seem to not be listening to her urgent message. What impact, if any, will Greta Thunberg or this documentary have on the health of the planet?

The day after we watched this, inspired by the passion and commitment of this Swedish 16-year-old, we noted news reports that lifetime pol John Kerry, about to turn 77, is Joe Biden's idea of an inspired choice to be America's climate envoy. Turn, turn, turn.

What's amazing about this film is the extremely close access the filmmakers (led by director Nathan Grossman) have arranged. It almost feels overly intrusive, considering the Asperger's that Greta deals with. We see her and her doting father as they travel Europe by train, hobnob with dignitaries, and then take a harrowing boat ride across the Atlantic (beware of viewer sea-sickness) for her triumphant appearance at the United Nations in New York.

But that rare intimacy with the subject is the selling point here. We become familiar with Greta's mood swings and the loneliness of her journey, even when she is mobbed like a rock star at rallies. She obsesses over the grammar of her speeches, and she often has to be reminded to eat something. She has the air of a tragic Shakespearean character or a suffering saint from biblical times. And this doesn't seem to be a put-on for the camera. Instead, it's an insightful character study and a helpful time-capsule moment that will be interesting to revisit years and decades hence.

BONUS TRACKS

"Crip Camp's" soundtrack leans a little too heavily on Boomer icons like the Grateful Dead and Neil Young, but there's no denying the beauty and power of Bob Dylan's "Tomorrow Is a Long Time."

And a centerpiece in "Greta" is Billie Eilish's "End of the World":

Not to be confused, for better or worse, with the Skeeter Davis classic:

New to the Queue

 Coming out the other side ...

Chloe Zhao ("The Rider") recruits Frances McDormand for a tale of economic destruction, "Nomadland."

A documentary about journalists and activists battling for answers in the aftermath of a fatal fire at a concert in Romania, "Collective."

A profile of the wild man from the original cast of "Saturday Night Live," "Belushi."

Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman star in a musical period piece, based on the August Wilson play, "Ma Rainey's Black Bottom."

Julien Temple devotes two hours to the pathetic saga of the self-destructive leader of the Pogues, "Crock of Gold: A Few Rounds With Shane MacGowan."

And one more rock doc, this one about the revered avant-garde musician and composer, "Zappa."

Auto Parts

Two films that have been sitting in my queue for the better part of the millennium finally rise to the top:

SWEDISH AUTO (2006) (B) - This charming little film follows the exploits of a quiet small-town mechanic who has a fascination with a beautiful violinist before realizing that another woman is obsessed with him. This variation on the classic love triangle -- albeit it highly platonic -- provides a first-time director the chance to sketch out an intriguing character study.

Lukas Haas (a child in "Witness," an adult in "Inception") plays Carter, such a dutiful worker that he seems to be more of a favorite of the garage owner than the owner's son. He likes to watch Ann (Brianne Davis) perform, whether she is on stage in concert or just visible through her apartment window. Meantime, the cute gal at the diner, Darla (January Jones, before "Mad Men"), has a keen interest in Carter, and they eventually start hanging out. 

Writer-director Derek Sieg ("Hot Air") sets this tale in Charlottesville, Va., giving everything a dull grey tint -- all except the vintage magenta Saab that Carter lovingly restores. In a brisk 97 minutes, Sieg gives a long leash to Haas and Jones as they mumble their way into each other's arms (for the longest time I was trying to figure out if her character's name was Donna or Carla). Carter feels compelled to rescue Darla and her mother from the clutches of an abusive step-father, and he is working on a particular Swedish auto that might just be the vehicle for all of them to escape their drab, unfulfilled existence.

ELDORADO (2009) (B) - This quirky little road movie brings together a gearhead and a junkie as they meander across Belgium.  Bouli Lanners writes, directs and stars as Yvan, the connoisseur of American cars who arrives home one day to find scrawny Elie (Fabrice Adde) hiding out in Yvan's home after having broken in and trashed it looking for money to finance his next score. 

After this meet-cute, Yvan agrees to drive Elie to the French border where Elie's parents live. Along the way, they interact with outre characters, including a psychic and a nudist who is the namesake of actor Alain Delon (and who has his own director's chair with his name emblazoned on it). Lanners -- both as actor and director -- infuses the narrative with equal parts whimsy and melancholia. Elie seems doomed from the start, and Yvan, while well meaning, is really working out his own personal issues rather than giving selflessly to help the next generation.

The random acts of oddity pay off in the end, when the pair suddenly have to tend to an injured dog, and neither has a clue what to do, partly because neither one really seems to care about the animal's suffering, perhaps too focused on their own internal turmoil. Lanners is wise to trim this down to a zippy 80 minutes, the perfect size for it to hustle along to an indifferent but satisfying conclusion.

BONUS TRACK

Lanners opens "Eldorado" with Yvan crusing the open road in his vintage Chevy wagaon to the tune of the Milkshakes pounding out "Ida Honey (Tell Me You'll Be Mine)":

Doc Watch: The Beat

 

THE GO-GO's (B) - This slick Showtime production focuses on the origin story and early phenomenon of the only all-woman band in history who played their own instruments to have a number-one record. The Go-Go's themselves -- even the spurned members who missed out on the glory days of the '80s -- are game for this exercise, making it an endearing time-capsule opening.

Australian director Alison Ellwood shows a deep appreciation for the band's early years, drawing out heartfelt memories from the band members about their dues-paying in and emergence from the Los Angeles punk scene of the late 1970s. Ellwood also allows each woman's personality to flourish, and we are treated to distinct moments from each popster, all of them now in their 60s. Jane Wiedlin is as perky as ever, but she reveals some dark emotional issues that she has only recently come to terms with. Charlotte Caffey, the other main songwriter, who looks like she never aged, unfurls some rough tales of her heroin addiction. Belinda Carlisle still has the whiff of diva (and maybe a little cosmetic surgery). Gina Schock, the drummer, still seems to have a bit of a chip on her shoulder about being paid the least. And rhythm member Kathy Valentine seems to be perhaps the most well adjusted after all these years (though her creation story involves joining the band in late 1980 and learning the bass parts during a cocaine binge).

The documentary goes hard on those early years, including a harrowing trip to Maggie Thatcher's London just before they exploded into fame -- and really, there isn't much of a thread to follow beyond the band's third album, which showed them already starting to lose their footing as early as 1984. This film makes an argument for these women as pop-punk troupers who had some serious songwriting chops, despite their place in history as many folks' favorite guilty pleasure. In fact, songwriting stories from Caffey and Wiedlin are some of the highlights here.

Admirers include Miles and Stewart Copeland, members of Madness and the Specials, and, god bless her, MTV veejay Martha Quinn. And, maybe secretly, you.

HORN FROM THE HEART: THE PAUL BUTTERFIELD STORY (2018) (B) - This biography of the white bluesman who broke out in Chicago in the 1960s feels like a doted-on labor of love and turns out to be a workmanlike study of another troubled rocker. Butterfield, a Hyde Park native, habituated black blues clubs of Chicago and studied at the feet of Muddy Waters and others.

He was praised for his spirited harmonica playing and soulful voice, and he assembled a tight crew of musicians in the '60s and '70s, including Elvin Bishop on guitar. Bishop and a host of former friends and colleagues -- including keyboard wizards Al Kooper and Paul Shaffer, drummer Sam Lay, saxophonist David Sanborn, and backup singer Clydie King -- heap praise on Butterfield as a true blues soldier, making this a rather hagiographic portrait. An ex-wife and son are on hand to put Butterfield's personal demons -- drugs and alcohol -- into perspective.

Butterfield spent much of the '70s living among the Woodstock, N.Y., royalty of Dylan and the Band and the diehards, like Happy Traum, featured here. He seemed devoted to his craft, and it's a shame that he couldn't keep his act together. Director John Anderson (who is apparently preparing a follow-up documentary about the '60s Chicago blues scene) ably mixes archival footage with talking-head interviews that have a crudeness suggesting 1980s videotape. If you don't know much about Butterfield's story, don't run off to Wikipedia; try this instead, and appreciate the arc of one man's life.

BONUS TRACK

One of my favorite covers is the Pixies' version of the Paul Butterfield Blues Band staple "Born in Chicago":

The Go-Go's' debut album predated the dawn of MTV by just a few months, and they were a natural match, such as this cheapo video for "Our Lips Are Sealed," which was made for about $6,000 left over in an IRS Records budget for the Police:

Showgirls

 

RED DOG (B) - This is a highly entertaining cinematic memoir of life among strippers, but it too often feels like a cheat and a bit of inbred revisionist history. Luke Dick, a country songwriter, draws memories out of his mom, Kim, and her fellow partiers at the rowdy Red Dog in Oklahoma City, where he was hell-raised in the late '70s and '80s.

Kim is a pistol, not shy about finally letting loose with all the tawdry details of the sex-and-drugs-soaked life she turned to at the tender age of 14. Fat and chain-smoking now, she still has a glint in her eye and a quick wit, leavened by a resignation -- perhaps even a detente -- about the course of her life. A few of the other surviving dancers, enjoying a more sober middle-aged existence, share their stories, and we also hear from good ol' boys who enabled this entire existence, including a tough-talking former bouncer and a regular who was married to Kim and previously to one of her friends.

There should be a social contract which holds that whatever happened in the '70s stays in the '70s, whether it was Vegas or Oklahoma City. All of these folks behaved very badly (it's almost impossible to keep track of all of Kim's husbands and Luke's stepfathers), and you get the sense that time and slick filmmaking techniques (including the occasional cutesy animated re-enactment) are helping gloss over some serious sins. We learn of only one true victim of lifelong drug abuse who did not make it past 50 -- the legendary Nasty Cathy -- but there had to be others whose lives were trashed by the degradation of the day. Cathy's soft-spoken son, now about 40, shows up here -- his puppy-dog eyes barely shielding the emotional pain he must still be processing -- to reveal the harrowing details of his upbringing and estrangement from his mother. He insists that he turned out pretty OK, but you have to wonder if he's just putting on a brave face for the camera.

Luke Dick gives writer-director duties to first-timer Casey Pinkston, but he is the interviewer and narrator, and he fills the soundtrack with his own compositions. Either man could have whittled this project down closer to 90 minutes (it runs an hour 45), and the result would have been sharper and better focused. There is no denying that this is a raunchy reminiscence of a long-gone era, when adults behaved particularly poorly; you just have to wonder if this playful piece of performance art is giving us anything near the real story.

YOU DON'T NOMI (B) - Much has been written in the past quarter century about the 1995 spectacle "Showgirls," the notorious NC-17 spectacle from the exploitation factory of pulp writer Joe Eszterhas and Euro-trash director Paul Verhoeven in their follow-up to "Basic Instinct." More does not need to be written here. In watching this documentary purporting to deconstruct the pop culture sensation that resulted from the big-screen saga of one Nomi Malone (the ill-fated Elizabeth Berkley, having grown up from "Saved by the Bell"), I wondered more than once: Are we overthinking this movie?

Like "Red Dog," "You Don't Nomi" is an entertaining romp through some bygone bare-breasted sleaze, this time up on the big screen. But first-time director Jeffrey McHale is not interested in a simple I (Heart) the Nineties VH1 tribute to a trashy film; rather, he wants to do a philosophical deep dive into whether the widely panned release was truly crap or whether it was somehow brilliant -- or, get this, whether it was some sophisticated needle-threading auteurist attempt to produce brilliant crap of a lineage from Cecil B. DeMille and Busby Berkeley (no relation). Principal among the over-thinkers is Adam Nayman, who actually wrote a book about "Showgirls" with the egg-headed thesis of "It Doesn't Suck." 

Nayman and others expend millions of more brain cells than actually went into the movie about a small-town gal who navigates the dog-eat-dog world of Vegas to become the top showgirl. The film starts out reminding us that the easily mockable story and direction -- leading to a career-killing hysterical performance by Berkley -- is, indeed, as laughable and horrific as we remember it. That intro undercuts later attempts to convince us that it is us who are too shallow or mean to understand or appreciate this inadvertent masterpiece.

Berkley remains convinced that she was participating in a feminist howl (by orgasmically flopping in a swimming pool like a wounded dolphin?), but Verhoeven, shown in recent footage, does everything but wink at the camera to let us know he was merely indulging his male perversions, as we are constantly reminded throughout "Nomi" with clips from Verhoeven's previous and subsequent films, which drive home his simple-minded view of the battle of the sexes. (To his credit, Verhoeven is shown in archival footage appearing in person to accept his Razzie awards, the first director to ever have done so.)

Director McHale explores the metamorphosis of "Showgirls'" place in pop culture, with various stage productions that put it on a plane with "The Brady Bunch" and "The Rocky Horror Picture Show." He chooses not to show the faces of his talking heads, leaving them to perform their analysis in voice-over, which makes it harder to keep track of who is who -- though it allows for the showing of that many more clips from the film, thus upping the tits-per-frame ratio throughout. 

In sum, this is an interesting trinket to drop during the Me-Too era, and I'm hardly qualified to weigh in with much depth. I've already joined in overthinking this blip in cinematic history. I remember going to see it. I recall how appallingly awful it was (though props to the mesmerizing Gina Gershon for thriving and surviving), and I've tossed out glib comments about it over the years. And I'll admit that, for an hour and a half, it was kind of fun to recall, like the cast of "Red Dog," a different era, when we didn't always have to pay for our sins.

New to the Queue

And then things got really dim ...

It's looking like a long dark winter, so I'll make room for a 4.5-hour mega-doc from Frederick Wiseman ("Ex Libris," "In Jackson Heights," "At Berkeley"), his take on the inner workings of Boston's government, "City Hall."

Another veteran, Werner Herzog, makes too many movies for us to keep up with, but one of his new releases looks positively gorgeous, "Fireball: Visitors From Darker Worlds."

We'll check in with one of the voices of the Homeland generation, our world's climate conscience, "I Am Greta."

A debut comic buddy movie, "The Climb."

It may turn out to be sappy, but we're drawn to the return of Sophia Loren, directed by her son, in "The Life Ahead."

That '70s Drift: Soul Music

 

HARRY CHAPIN: WHEN IN DOUBT, DO SOMETHING (A-minus) - This is a surprisingly insightful and entertaining biography of the '70s storytelling singer and avid activist in the area of world hunger who set the table for rock-star benefits in the '80s. Even if you have mocked his hit song "Cat's in the Cradle" for decades, it will be tough to deny the power of his personality and his life story, which was cut short by an auto accident in 1981.

Newcomer Rick Korn brings passion to this project, as if inspired by and seeking to match Chapin's thoroughly electric personality and drive. Coming from a musical family (his dad was a noted drummer, and Chapin and his brothers first performed as a folk combo), Chapin stood out for his songwriting abilities and his winning personality. 

A bidding war broke out in 1972, and Chapin splashed big with the story song "Taxi." He peaked in 1974 with "Cat's in the Cradle." I'll admit, I never got over those songs, which I would sample from my brother's vinyl copy of "Greatest Stories Live" (1976), and both of those songs, featured in the documentary, still hit squarely in the solar plexus. (The film works in a montage of pop-culture mock tributes to "Cat's in the Cradle" over the years, led by "The Simpsons.") Even if the average viewer wouldn't have that much buy-in, there is no denying the compelling nature of this film.

A documentary should be measured by how thorough and entertaining it attacks its given subject, and Korn certainly leaves little unexamined here. Chapin co-founded World Hunger Year (WHY), and he devoted half of his concerts each year to benefits for various charities and non-profits. (He seeded Michael Moore's Flint Voice publication in 1977). We hear from family, colleagues from the world of charities (seeing the continued benefits of Chapin's work to this day), and from other celebrities, including Billy Joel (who opened for Chapin on one of the piano man's early tours) and a rather snotty Bob Geldof, who manages barely a back-handed compliment for the pioneering work Chapin did. Vermont Sen. Patrick Leahy, who helped shepherd legislation through Congress during the Carter years, also waxes on about his old friend.

But it's the extensive footage of Chapin (including home movies from his childhood and early years performing) that round out the portrait of a man as a performer and a driven human being. As the film's title, taken from his mantra, suggests, Chapin seemed to have a keen sense of how short life can be, and his fervent drive to "do something" to help others pours from the screen.

AMAZING GRACE (C+) - You want to love this filmed version of a gospel concert given by Aretha Franklin in a church in the Watts neighborhood of Los Angeles in 1972, but you can understand why Sydney Pollack's original effort back then was scrapped and mothballed. Alan Elliott, a composer (not a filmmaker), tries to salvage the footage and turn it into a documentary, but the result is a mish-mash of scenes that cobble together footage from two days of shooting.

Now, the music, with the Rev. James Cleveland and the Southern California Community Choir in support, is amazing. And the album itself was recorded and released in 1972. Franklin's version of the title track is other-worldly. Her voice can still give you chills.

But the visuals are disappointing. There is no narrative coherence here. Apparently Mick Jagger and some of the Rolling Stones showed up on the second day, so we get multiple cutaways of his mug. We see Pollack mousing around with a camera. And there's a lot of sweating by Franklin and the reverend. But Franklin evinces little personality throughout the film (she doesn't talk to the audience until the very end) and quite frankly looks like she doesn't want to be there. As either a concert film or a historical document, this falls flat.

Doc Watch: Perceptions and Deceptions

 

EPICENTRO (A-minus) - Hubert Sauper is guided by his senses as much as his sensibilities. He devastated us with "Darwin's Nightmare," a bleak examination of our destruction of Earth, and he more recently immersed himself with the culture of Sudan in "We Come as Friends." Here he plunks himself and his camera into the heart of Havana to study a narrow slice of life among Cubans.

Even more than his previous films, Sauper reaches for mood as opposed to any sort of true polemic. He appears to be on the side of the children of the revolution, building his narrative structure around the colonialist propaganda that has dominated Cuba since the 1898 Spanish-American War ("Remember the Maine!"). He is aware of the myths created, particularly through his own medium of cinema, and his film here reflects it more than dismantle it.

The genius of the film is the deep dive into the lives of a handful of subjects, including some adolescents who serve as conduits for the Communist Party line, now several generations removed from the 1959 overthrow of the Batista regime. The kids are smart and charming, a rarity in film. Several other characters, including street-smart Clarita, help sketch out the social structure of Havana and the hustle that is everyday living. Actress Oona Chaplin is on hand to provide theater and musical interludes. Sauper, meantime, soaks up the sights and sounds (waves crashing ashore burst wildly like fireworks), and in doing so he making no judgments as he observes both the poverty and the progress of Cuban society. He wonders: Is this utopia, and if so, how can you tell? Here the sum is greater than its parts as we are left with a mesmerizing mix that fills our senses.

AN HONEST LIAR (2015) (B) - James "The Amazing" Randi died last month at 92, so we revisited this overview of his life's work as a magician and debunker of frauds. Randi is a captivating subject, a former escape artist now bent over and grey from age but still full of spit and vinegar, and still admired by his younger acolytes. 

This workmanlike documentary spends a lot of energy on Randi's rivalry with Uri Geller and with his dismantling of the scam televangelist Peter Popoff. But the final third takes a turn when it explores the mysterious immigration saga of Randi's longtime companion Jose Alvarez. It raises the idea of deception to the whole next level.

A bevy of talking heads are on hand to sing his praises, including Penn Jillette and Alice Cooper (Randi used to play executioner at Cooper's concerts, "beheading" the glam rock star). Clips from Johnny Carson's "Tonight Show" and from "Happy Days" place Randi firmly in the pop culture milieu of a bygone era. This is a loving yet clear-eyed tribute to a distinct individual.