A documentary about the endlessly engaging Australian rocker Courtney Barnett, "Anonymous Club."
A melodramatic love triangle from Claire Denis ("Beau Travail"), who re-teams with Juliette Binoche ("Let the Sunshine In") and adds the reliable Vincent Lindon ("Bastards") for "Both Sides of the Blade (Fire)."
CHA CHA REAL SMOOTH (B+) - The sophomore effort from the appealing young writer-director Cooper Raiff ("Shithouse") mostly succeeds by using a similar style of his first film -- young adult (Raiff in both instances) adrift in the world and not afraid to lay his sensitivity out there for all to see. Whereas "Shithouse" found our young hero leaving the nest and going off to college, here Andrew has just finished college and immediately falls into a dead-end fast-food job while his girlfriend goes off on an adventure in Barcelona.
Andrew's little brother, David (Evan Assante) is 13, so he and all his co-hort are enjoying bar/bat mitzvah season. When Andrew rescues one of the parties by jolting it to life, he suddenly is in demand as a party-starter. It gives him purpose, and he also finds an opportunity to befriend the mother of a picked-on autistic girl. What could have been a cheesy play on "The Graduate" instead thrives with nuance in Raiff's hands. It helps that Dakota Johnson brings her trademark slinkiness to the role of the mom but adds layers of personality and even grief.
Raiff also plays well off of Leslie Mann, perfect as Andrew's mother, and he spars with Brad Gilbert, who plays the gruff stepfather. Andrew has a loving rapport with his little brother, trying to act like the wise older sibling, but obviously faking it poorly. And Vanessa Burghardt, who is on the spectrum herself, is strong as Lola, a multi-dimensional teen.
You will either buy into Raiff's shtick or you won't. And I would have ended this about 15 minutes sooner, before some of the shmaltz seeped in. But I smiled a lot throughout; Raiff, almost like an Anglo Woody Allen, has a natural way of fumbling his interactions in an endearing way. He comes off as a genuine wayward soul. I can't see him going to the same well a third time, but let's see what he does next.
X (B-minus) - You won't find very many horror films on these pages, but this one has just enough self-awareness and humor to be considered passable entertainment. It's 1979, and a bunch of horny Texans book the back quarters of a farm house inhabited by a creepy old couple in order to shoot a porn film.
The god-fearing old folks don't quite cotton to the hijinks, and in a nod to the movies of the late '70s that this is modeled on (in meta fashion), the old you-fuck-you-die rule kicks in. Much blood will be spilled, in some mildly creative ways. The sex scenes, however, are bland. (Again, in a nod to tradition, we get plenty of old-style tits but no male frontal nudity.)
Mia Goth ("Emma"), above, is compelling as the lead here, followed closely by the prototypical blond bimbo played by Brittany Snow from the "Pitch Perfect" movies. Martin Henderson does a bad Matthew McConaughey impersonation as the cowboy-hatted producer and sleaze. The old couple are distractingly portrayed by younger actors obviously pretending to be geezers. (Maybe that's why they have super-human strength despite purporting to be in their 80s.)
Anyway, this playful outing from pulp journeyman Ti West has barely enough twists and goofs to hold your interest for one hour and 45 minutes, though you will be rewarded if you are patient enough to hold out for the pitch-perfect final line of the movie. The rest of the movie should have strived to be as clever as that one punch line.
JULIA (B) - The women behind the hit documentary "RBG" move on from the Supreme Court to the culinary TV legend Julia Child. And they bet you'll be at least a little surprised about the famed chef's origin story. Alas, the trailer promises too much.
Child did not hit TV screens until she was 50 years old, in the early 1960s, and this production does a thorough job (nearly the first half of the film) filling in her early history. It certainly humanizes her, but there's not more to report than that she was a driven, vivacious woman, whose dogged persistence led to her becoming one of the first popular celebrity chefs. Don't expect her to be outed as some sort of CIA spy or closet sexpot.
And while she's a worthy figure for study, this documentary never quite launches beyond a run-of-the-mill biography. Talking heads faithfully talk her up. Archival footage rounds out her back story. But repeated modern re-creations of her cooked dishes have a numbing effect. (I have no use for cooking shows, so you might not be bothered as much by the onslaught of shots of culinary delights.)
In the end, coming from privilege, she lived an ordinary extraordinary life, with a faithful, supportive spouse, a satisfying second-half career, and the adoration of millions. She was truly devoted to her craft, and you can't help be happy for her. So there's that.
THE MARTHA MITCHELL EFFECT (B-minus) - This 40-minute documentary on Netflix is little more than a curiosity about the wife of President Nixon's attorney general and campaign manager, John Mitchell, who was vocal about the wrongs of Watergate within days of the break-in. She would become a thorn in the side of Nixon, who mentions her more than 100 times in his Oval Office tapes.
Martha Mitchell was mocked as a mouthy woman and slandered as a drunk who was half out of her mind, particularly by her lout of a husband. (They separated as the scandal unfolded. He eventually went to jail and she would be dead at 57 before Gerald Ford left office.) The title here comes from a psychologist's theory about the gaslighting technique of demonizing and caricaturing a whistleblower who later is vindicated. The application here is imprecise, but close enough for the movies.
This serves as a genial trip down memory lane on the 50th anniversary of the break-in at Democratic headquarters during the 1972 election season. We get a pretty well-rounded picture of the outspoken, big-haired Mitchell and a grim reminder of the crooks who felt the need to steal an election. But it's not just the run time that makes this feel like only half a film.
HIT THE ROAD (B+) - This impressive debut feature from the son of a legendary Iranian filmmaker plays a bit like a debut from the son of an acclaimed director. It's a bit indulgent though sharply written and observed, perhaps on a par with the early next-gen output of someone like Roman or Sofia Coppola.
Panah Panahi -- the son of Jafar Panahi ("Jafar Panahi's Taxi") -- takes an economic approach to narrative and visual storytelling. He tells the story of a family road trip, with the older son at the wheel, driving his parents and obnoxious little brother to an unnamed destination where (for mysterious reasons) the young man will be handed off and secreted over the border out of Iran. Dad in the backseat, a large cast on his leg, is alternatively grumpy and jocular. Mom, riding shotgun, projects calm and wisdom. The little brother -- an obvious surprise gift to the older couple who didn't plan to have another child -- provides most of the comic relief (if you can stand that sort of thing) as a super-smart wise-ass. ("That little devil is cute," as they say in the trailer.)
A bicycle racer joins their journey -- they had side-swiped him and offered him a ride. There are a couple of other planned and unplanned stops along the way. This is a shaggy story, and Panahi's facility with writing dialogue is his greatest asset here. And some visuals are truly inspired -- notably, the family dog running down the road with a leash and plastic chair bouncing along in its wake.
But even at 93 minutes, Panahi could have used a sharp editor. He repeats good ideas too often -- such as the mother singing along to the car stereo. And several false endings get frustrating. This is an imperfect work, but it can be thoroughly satisfying overall.
THE GIRL AND THE SPIDER (B) - Most of the time I wasn't sure exactly what was happening in this quirky relationship dramedy, but it has a unique voice and visual style, brought home by a winning cast. This sophomore effort from twin writer-directors Ramon and Silvan Zurcher ("The Strange Little Cat") is a rich challenge of storytelling.
Lisa (Liliane Amuat) is moving out of the apartment she shares with her lover, Mara (a haunting Henriette Confurius), and this intimate movie shows the mundane mechanics of the hefting of boxes and the carting of furniture over the course of two days. Mara refuses to let Lisa off the hook too easily. Surrounded by friends and Lisa's family, Mara challenges Lisa to confront the raw emotions of the breakup. (It's not entirely clear if the whole relationship, or just the cohabitation, is fully ending.)
That sounds simple, but the elliptical devices employed here are what make a movie in which so little seems to happen seem so compelling. Characters often speak in riddles or parables. Various hookups occur, either attempted or consummated. Lisa's married mother (Ursina Lardi) pines after the movers' supervisor. Mara's older neighbor sees an opening and hits on Mara.
Beyond that, it's difficult to convey the appeal here. A lot of it is mood. There is something entrancing about watching Mara curl up in a window frame and smoke as she lazily watches the world below. The Zurchers close out each act -- the first at the old apartment, the second at Lisa's new one -- by pausing and letting their camera take an inventory of random objects that had had minor roles in the previous scenes. It's an effective palate-cleanser and a clever way to make the viewer take a breath and think about what might come next.
Often I was a little anxious trying to keep track of all the characters (too many of the young women look similar) and make sense of the monologues. But I eventually capitulated and adored this arty slice of life.
THE LONG DAY CLOSES (1992) (B-minus) - This is another early dream-like reverie from Terence Davies, his early-'90s follow up to his landmark film "Distant Voices, Still Lives." This comes off as prettier, glossier, and more upbeat, but it's too precious by half.
Davies goes back to Liverpool in the postwar era to again wallow in his childhood with his widowed mother. Like the recent "Belfast," Davies' scrub-cheeked avatar is a sensitive lad who loves movies. (How else would he grow up to become an artsy filmmaker?) But is he ever a dour schoolboy.
Like Davies' 1988 breakthrough, the soundtrack is full of music, much of it sung amiably by the characters. At one point, the young lad, who is often in the presence of shirtless boys and young men, swings from a metal bar to the saccharine strains of Debbie Reynolds' "Tammy," which proceeds to play out, painfully, in its complete three-minute run. Dialogue from classic movies is also borrowed generously, often creating a distraction. Religion casts a pall over the entire proceedings. It's all incredibly gorgeous but laden with too many indulgences, like an interminable close-up of a rug, which provided incentives for me to doze off.
Davies can be a challenging cup of tea. It's been decades since we were awed by "Distant Voices." His new film, "Benediction," just doesn't look interesting enough to devote two hours to. His high-water mark since the turn of the millennium has been "The Deep Blue Sea," another period piece but one about a woman trapped in a loveless marriage. He synced well with Cynthia Nixon for the Emily Dickenson biopic "A Quiet Passion" in 2017. And he went the documentary route for the deeply nostalgic valentine to Liverpool, with mixed results, in "Of Time and the City." But he stumbled badly with "Sunset Song," a Scottish slog that we didn't make it through in 2016. Those latter two and this one just aren't necessary.
A documentary about a botched robbery in New York in 1973 that led to what is said to be the first ever hostage negotiation, "Hold Your Fire."
A documentary about the groundbreaking '70s all-female rock 'n' roll band, "Fanny: The Right to Rock."
A droll debut from France about the love life of a 20-something comic-book artist, "Playlist."
Cooper Raiff ("Shithouse") again stars in his own film as he follows up his writing-directing debut with another look at emerging adulthood, "Cha Cha Real Smooth."
A documentary about the women who, before 1973, helped other women get safe abortions, "The Janes."
We never saw "Top Gun" all these years. So we decided to catch the original and then go see the new sequel in IMAX with an Air Force hot-shot on opening weekend. Call ME Maverick. We start with the new one.
TOP GUN: MAVERICK (B) - When I was a kid, Chicago Cubs announcer Jack Brickhouse would conclude an inning in which the Cubs gave up some runs but the other team missed a few opportunities to score even more: "Well, that sure could have been a whole lot worse." I braced for impact while watching the long-awaited sequel to "Top Gun," and I need not have -- it was a fun experience. (We saw it in IMAX.)
Tom Cruise's passable acting skills have not improved much since the '80s, but he is surrounded by a capable cast and a script that skirts by cliches in a clever enough way to keep things afloat. It is the classic tale of an old gunslinger (Cruise's Maverick) who will show a bunch of cocky upstarts that he has at least one more flight (and fight) left in him. And he must reconcile with Rooster (Miles Teller), the son of Maverick's beloved former wingman Goose, who famously met his demise in the first film, in Maverick's arms. For no good reason, the filmmakers toss in a fairly wooden Jennifer Connelly as Cruise's love interest to form a 50-something Ken & Barbie play set.
Credit goes to Peter Craig, a hot-shot of a writer, who followed up 2010's "The Town" with major-league credits like "The Hunger Games," "Bad Boys for Life" and "The Batman." Craig takes a tired premise and manages to build tension, with a taut narrative that won't quit. Lines often get delivered with too much of a knowing wink -- especially every time Maverick is chastised for having "that look" on his face ("It's the only one I've got" is his snappy comeback). But the dialogue snaps when it needs to.
Meantime, director Joseph Kosinski's camera actually goes up in the planes with the cast for dazzling visual effects. Back on the ground, Maverick has returned as an instructor at the Top Gun school, which sets him up to clash with a stern admiral (admirably portrayed by Jon Hamm) and bond with his support team (Bashir Salahuddin is particularly effective) and a new generation of elite fliers that is more nuanced and interesting than in the original. A valedictory scene between Cruise and Val Kilmer (who lost his voice to cancer and must rely on computer assistance) -- Kilmer's Iceman is now the chief admiral over Top Gun -- is a truly touching (and somewhat meta) moment.
You will see the plot twists and ending coming from miles away on the horizon. (It helps our consciences that, while the mission is a supreme challenge, the target is not people but just a rogue nation's nuclear reactor.) But damn if it's difficult to dislike this All-American rah-rah romp. Mission accomplished
TOP GUN (1986) (C) - This is even more hokey and subtextual than I could have imagined. It is difficult to try to assess what I would have thought of this if I had seen it as a young adult 36 years ago, but seeing it now for the first time, all I can do is shake my head and marvel at the decade of the 1980s and the phenomenon that is Tom Cruise.
No one needs me to weigh in after all these years. This is a pretty stupid movie. Every character sweats profusely, even when they are not piloting a jet; didn't they have air-conditioning in the control rooms back then? It's interesting to track the homo-erotic theme throughout the film and think how ground-breaking that must have been back then. It's not just one beach volleyball game; the theme played out by these professionally coifed pretty boys is far from subtle and deeply woven throughout the film. And why were these 20-something hot shots memorizing and singing songs from the '50s and '60s all the time? Maybe because the filmmakers thought it would make for a cool soundtrack alongside Kenny Loggins? And who knew the final cheesy song (written by "Axel F" synthesizer noodler Harold Faltermeyer, from Giorgio Moroder's stable) was sung by Cheap Trick? Is that a career high for them or a career low?
Cruise has never been a very good actor. I wish I'd kept track of the number of times he clenched his jaw, which is his amateurish go-to move. Val Kilmer flails away in his first real role. Kelly McGillis has that longing look down pat, but not much else. And hey, there's that guy (Michael Ironside) whose head exploded in "Scanners"!
The plot is all cornball and cheese, straight from World War II propaganda films. At one point our American heroes blast some Russkies out of the sky, and what would have normally instigated World War III gets explained away with a throwaway line of dialogue toward the end.
Oh, well. "Top Gun" happened in 1986. Son of a gun.
BONUS TRACKS
Comedian Rich Hall reminds us that the plots of Tom Cruise films are pretty much all the same:
And our title track: You can see the "Monty Python's Flying Circus" episode about the Montgolfier brothers here.
Once again, shopping at Trader Joe's and the soundtrack churned. The first song was an obvious favorite of the workers stocking the shelves, as they sang or clicked along from every corner of the store. The second song, from a decade earlier, segued surprisingly smoothly. Hats off to the algorithm.
1.
Date: May 28, 2022, 8:40 a.m.
Place: Trader Joe's, Uptown, Albuquerque
Song/Artist: "She Drives Me Crazy," Fine Young Cannibals
Irony Matrix: 2.4
Comment: What a delightful way to shop. This earworm was bouncy out of the gate, and it still sounds fresh and fun. There are the clicks and pops and then the memorable guitar riff. Once the falsetto vocals kick in, we'll see who is bold enough to sing along. Or will they wait until the more reachable chorus? Just imagine bopping down the aisles looking for organic blueberry jam. At one point I imagined a crane shot from the ceiling showing customers with shopping carts jerking along in synchronicity. C'mon willowy tattooed chick with the wispy powder-blue hair, let's dance.
2.
Date: May 28, 2022, 8:43 a.m.
Place: Trader Joe's, Uptown, Albuquerque
Song/Artist: "You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet," Bachman-Turner Overdrive
Irony Matrix: 1.7
Comment: Some of my first cassette tapes from the Columbia Record Club in the early '70s were BTO releases. This is the big hit from the 1974 album "Not Fragile" from the beefy Canadians who wrote meaty songs. It was their sole No. 1 record. (And the title was said to be an answer to the wimpy "Fragile" by Yes.) You could say there was "nothing" going on in late 1974 on the Billboard charts. Three of four consecutive number ones were this song, Stevie Wonder's "You Haven't Done Nothing" and Billy Preston's "Nothing From Nothing." (Three of four Beatles also had No. 1 songs in 1974, which was also the year of "Seasons in the Sun" and "The Streak." Those were simpler times.) On this day, the unusually jangly guitars from the Bachmans were a perfect echo of Andy Cox's staccato bursts in "She Drives Me Crazy." I will always fall for early BTO.
