Poor Things

 

PROBLEMISTA (A-minus) - Julio Torres is a delightful, unique comedian, whose arch observations mix whimsy with left-field emotional depth, a millennial descendant of Charlie Chaplin, if you dare. He is known for writing wry, melancholy sketches for "Saturday Night Live" ("Wells for Boys") and for portraying a sensitive chocolate-empire heir on "Los Espookys." He is an amusing manic-pixie dream boy. Here he spins a semi-autobiographical story of an El Salvador immigrant in grimy New York City striving to maintain a work visa as he angles for his dream job at toymaker Hasbro. 

 

Torres wrote, directed and stars as Alejandro, a precious young man, who is so dainty that he prances on tiptoe wherever he goes. It might be improper to use the word "stars" in this context, because Torres is up against Tilda Swinton, who is maniacally entertaining as Alejandro's eccentric would-be sponsor, Elizabeth, who is obsessed with cataloging the egg-themed legacy paintings of her late spouse, Bobby (RZA in flashbacks). Elizabeth is a narcissistic, technologically challenged whirlwind, with hair dyed purple but with roots betraying her perpetual discombobulation.

Silliness ensues as obstacles stack up against Alejandro. Torres indulges his obsession with quirky objects -- his HBO special "My Favorite Shapes" is perhaps the finest hour of comedy to come along in the past decade -- through Alejandro's unorthodox toy designs (such as a Barbie who crosses her fingers behind her back). There is a gravity to his lightweight larks, but there also is a serious undercurrent at play here, especially in conveying the real-life challenges that poverty imposes on the working class.

Torres' style is quite an amalgam that draws from varying archives of whimsy -- there is the magical realism of Michel Gondry, the curatorial world-making of Wes Anderson, and the steam-punk silliness of Terry Gilliam. Perhaps even the incisive absurdism of early Woody Allen. Yet his voice is unique, and his touch here in his feature debut is assured. Torres certainly won't be everyone's cup of tea, but if you are able to tune into his frequency, you are likely to be both buoyed and charmed by his brand of storytelling.

THE OLD OAK (A-minus) - On Saturday morning, I had breakfast with some former newspaper colleagues, and one of them waxed philosophical about the need for a late wave of collectivism to save our society. I later went to a matinee at the Guild Cinema to experience this possible swan song of the old British lefty Ken Loach, itself a quiet, bittersweet plea for us to come together before it is too late. 

Here Loach ("Kes," "The Angels' Share," "I, Daniel Blake") dials in once again on the struggles of the working class in Britain. Our hero, TJ, runs a pub in an old seaside mining town in Northeast England. His regulars are grumbling about the arrival of war refugees from Syria, and TJ, through a random act of kindness, makes a connection with a young photographer among the newcomers, Yara, whose mother and siblings are adrift while her father is imprisoned back home. 

Loach's longtime collaborator, screenwriter Paul Laverty, crafts a nuanced portrait of the community, showing an understanding of all sides of the immigration debate in this dirt-poor village, even if it's apparent that the filmmakers' sympathies lie with TJ and Yara. When a volunteer brings a donated bike to one of the refugee girls, a trio of local boys looks on, and one wonders aloud why he can't have a bike too. One adult, who has a handicapped wife, complains that outside speculators are buying up flats sight unseen at bargain-basement rates, jeopardizing his own longtime investment.

TJ, prompted by Yara's exploration of the demise of the town's mining past (and the devastating union strikes of Maggie Thatcher's 1980s), spruces up the back room of the pub in order to create a space for communal meals. Of course, nothing comes easy to him or the unlucky residents of this snake-bitten village, and as challenges persist, Loach and Laverty take us deeper into TJ's backstory, which at times can seem as harrowing as those of the refugees from Syria. 

 

Dave Turner is powerfully emotional as TJ, and Ebla Mari is understated but moving as Yara, an assertive and compassionate young woman, who walks a fine line between standing up for the refugees and respecting the locals who are hosting them. Her penetrating eyes and calm demeanor counteract his hangdog look and dour outlook. 

The humanistic film never turns maudlin, even if it threatens to do so around several turns. The final scene is deeply moving, even if the viewer is well aware that genuine acts of kindness will always be offset by the deep-rooted prejudices and nativism that might well do us all in someday. 

BONUS TRACK

COUSIN JULES (B+) - This foundational documentary from France in the early 1970s is at this point more of a curiosity. It depicts the hardscrabble life of a blacksmith toiling away on a country farm. It could very well take place in the 1870s, considering the lack of modern conveniences on display.

From the classic era of fly-on-the-wall documentary filmmaking -- see also, the Maysles brothers, D.A. Pennebaker and Frederick Wiseman -- Dominique Benicheti spent about five years observing elderly Jules Guiteaux, whether slogging away forging tools or carrying out mundane household chores. There is little to no dialogue, and I felt a connection between this film and the later fictionalized works of Michelangelo Frammartino ("Le Quattro Volte") two generations hence.

We see Jules shave with a straight razor and observe him and his wife peel potatoes and chop vegetables in drawn-out sequences that set the table for "Jeanne Dielman" a few years later. While there is no discernible plot that seems obvious, we do note that Jules' wife, Felicie, disappears from the picture at some point, and our viewpoint shifts toward a deeper empathy with this hard-working Everyman.