Now and Then: Randy Young Things

 We delve into the work of Halina Reijn, checking out her second and third movies, a splashy one from 2022 and her latest, starring Nicole Kidman, "Babygirl." 

BABYGIRL (B+) - Nicole Kidman takes a script that could have turned trite and laughable and turns it into a riveting psychological study of a middle-aged woman confronting her shame and desires. Few actors could go so deep as she does.

 

Kidman stars as Romy, CEO of a tech firm on the cutting edge of warehouse sorting. Among the new batch of interns is Samuel (Harris Dickinson of "Beach Rats"), who is some sort of extra-sensory empath. When the film opens, he saves her from a dog attack on the street by calming the wild animal, and at the office he senses a secret about Romy -- that this powerful woman longs to be tamed and dominated. At an after-hours office gathering at a bar, he orders her a glass of milk and watches as she gulps it down. Before long they are trysting in hotel rooms.

Romy has a husband (Antonio Banderas), a vanilla lover who spends most of his time at the theater leading rehearsals for "Hedda Gabler" (wink-wink). They have two daughters, the oldest of whom (Esther McGregor) is a bold teen who is having her own issues with being faithful to a partner. Romy eventually gets reckless, sneaking moments with Samuel in the workplace and staying out all night at a rave with the young party people. He provocatively shows up at her house, meeting her family, but she ignores the red flag and allows things to go on.

Kidman dives into the deep end of her character and the psychological demons she is finally confronting. She has a way of holding a stare that conveys a dozen thoughts and emotions. She and writer-director Helina Reijn don't shy away from both the dangers and the pleasures that come from a woman pursuing what she wants (and needs), convention be damned. The role-play between Romy and Samuel evokes both erotic energy and scenes that elicit nervous laughter.

Things get dicey for Reijn halfway through when she offers an extended scene that plays out to the strains of George Michael's "Father Figure" -- too obvious of a needle drop -- and when Romy crawls across the floor to lap milk from a saucer, we're reminded further of the videos for Michael's "Freedom" and Madonna's "Express Yourself," a pair of stylistic touchstones that closed out the 1980s. It's a crossroads for the movie (about half the audience walked out of our screening), but Reijn chooses a smart path the rest of the way, stirring the plot and ratcheting the suspense.

In addition to the teen daughter, there is another young woman who looks up to Romy -- Esme (a sharp Sophie Wilde), an ambitious employee who not only seeks to rise in the ranks but also happens to be casually dating Samuel. Esme represents the threat that the secret will get out and ruin Romy's career. And then there's the question of whether Romy will confess her sins and her sexual frustrations to her husband. This isn't your father's patriarchy.

Again, this could have descended into an embarrassing soap opera or just riffed on the tropes from so many "Fatal Attraction" knockoffs. But Kidman commands the screen throughout, and she challenges you to join her in confronting the darker corners of her id. The actress toys with her public persona when Romy undergoes a Botox treatment, and she stands naked physically and emotionally in all her middle-aged glory. Meantime, Dickinson underplays Samuel as a crafty combination of suave and nerdy. They make for a believable alt-couple who at least try to be true to their own selves.

BODIES BODIES BODIES (2022) (B) - Somehow, Reijn's party-horror romp is both too much and not enough, at the same time. There are a lot of 20-somethings drinking, drugging and freaking out at a house party after the participants start dying one by one.

There is little novelty to be derived from the familiar tale of a bunch of spoiled rich kids out in the exurbs throwing a rager soaked in alcohol and drugs, and having things go haywire. Debut screenwriters Sarah DeLappe and Kristen Roupenian are full of one-liners, and they will eventually have some clever twists up their sleeves, but you have to struggle through 94 minutes of tropes to get there.  

Sophie (Amandla Stenberg) is freshly sober and wary of partying with her old pals, and her girlfriend Bee (Maria Bakalova) feels like an outcast when introduced to the group. They play a murder-mystery game, but they start to panic when the craziest among them, David (Pete Davidson), gets his throat slit. Of course, the power goes out during a storm, and the only car on the property has a dead battery, so they all hunker down, although panic and misunderstandings lead to more dead bodies, and the survivors, gripped by paranoia, are convinced they are being targeted by a classic horror-movie bad guy. This is dangerously close to mimicking a parody Geico commercial.

Few of the performers stand out here. The ringer is Rachel Sennott ("Shiva Baby," "Bottoms") who does a great annoying valley girl. The soundtrack thrums with pulsating club bangers and more than a few zingers land, and that helps paper over the gaps in the plot until the final flourish that is worth sticking around for.

BONUS TRACKS

From "Bodies," Azealia Banks with "212":

 

"Babygirl" was our annual Christmas Day outing.  For the record, here is our full list from previous years, in order of preference, updated:

  1. Up in the Air (2009)

  2. Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou (2004)

  3. Dreamgirls (2006)

  4. Charlie Wilson's War (2007)

  5. Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (2020)

  6. Little Women (2019)

  7. The Fighter (2010)

  8. Babygirl (2024)

  9. Licorice Pizza (2021)

10. American Hustle (2013)

11. The Shape of Water (2017)

12. La La Land (2016)

13. The Wrestler (2008)

14. Star Wars: The Force Awakens (2015)

15. Young Adult (2011)

16. This Is 40 (2012)

17. Anyone But You (2023)

18. Holmes & Watson (2018)

19. Into the Woods (2014)

The Suggest of 2024

 

It's no secret that it takes us an extra month or so, here in flyover country, to get to all the 2024 releases in order to make our best-of list. Watch this space. For now, here is a list of all of the year's releases, so far, that have earned a B+ or better and which will compete for the top spot.

• His Three Daughters
• Flow
  
• A Real Pain
• The Teachers' Lounge 
• Yacht Rock: A Dockumentary
• Do Not Expect Too Much From the End of the World
  
• Terrestrial Verses
  
• Deadpool & Wolverine
• Drugstore June 
  
• BS High
• The Arc of Oblivion
• How to Have Sex 
  
• My Old Ass 
• Babygirl
  
• Sugarcane
  
• Dusty & Stones
• Anora
• Martha
• Free Time
• Problemista
  
• Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat
• The Old Oak
  
• Babes
• Between the Temples 
• We Were Famous, You Don't Remember: The Embarrassment
  
• Sometimes I Think About Dying
• Flipside
• MoviePass/MovieCrash
• Me
• Smoke Sauna Sisterhood

Cartoon Corner: Odd Couples

 We don't believe in watching cartoons as an adult, so we don't have much patience for animation, but here are two highly touted 2024 releases. Figure a B+ is about the best grade you can get for an animated film, so adjust your barometer accordingly.

FLOW (B+) - My, what big eyes you have! Come along on a wordless adventure with an adorable cat navigating a post-apocalyptic world with and against other species. It's a meticulous and dazzling work of animation by the Latvian filmmaker Gints Zilbalodis, with a compelling narrative to match its magical-realism visuals.

 

A charcoal cat, with ever-curious saucer eyes, is nearly stranded after an environmental disaster has lifted the seas by a hundred feet or so. As the waters gradually rise he will hop on a boat with a capybara, a craft that will eventually be crewed as well by a simple-minded yellow labrador retriever, an object-hoarding ring-tailed lemur, and something Wikipedia calls a secretarybird (with an eagle-like body and crane-like legs), which injured a wing protecting the cat from the other big birds and now commands the helm as the gang heads to what looks like an abandoned city on the horizon.

It can be tough to watch the cat constantly face peril (there was a child in the crowd and I wonder if it was traumatized), but the cat is resourceful, outrunning predators and learning to catch fish (in luxurious underwater scenes). The cat's movements are so realistic -- from its physical agilty to the ambient sounds it makes -- that you can be forgiven for the occasional lapse into thinking you're watching the real thing. (The sound design is sometimes as mesmerizing as the eye candy.) The big dumb dog is fun to watch, and the lemur is a hoot as it hoards trinkets and especially covets a mirror that provides endless hours of self-entertainment.

Over the course of 84 minutes, we will learn a lesson in survival and cooperation with Others. Zilbalodis apparently pulled off this artistic feat using open-source software, and the result can melt the defenses of even the toughest animation critic.

ROBOT DREAMS (B-minus) - Heartwarming doesn't begin to describe this child-like rumination on friendship, here between a lonely dog and his mail-order robot. It is a Spanish-French production by Pablo Berger, based on a comic book by Sara Varon. 

The biggest knock against this charming valentine is that is just too long. It easily could have clocked in at 82 minutes instead of 102. For most of the film, Dog and Robot are estranged -- it turns out that dog took robot to the beach on the last day of the summer season, and robot malfunctioned after getting wet and was too heavy to lift, and so gets stranded there for the winter. During that long slog, Dog will mark time while Robot has a series of fantasies of reuniting with his pal, only to return to reality, lying on the beach.

There will be a long middle portion in which Robot will get salvaged for scrap but eventually cobbled back together by a tinkering racoon named Rascal, and they become friends. The question is whether Dog and Robot will find each other again -- before they forge a bond with another.

Berger grounds the story in the gritty East Village of New York in the mid-1980s, with homages to pay phones, boom boxes, Pong and the Twin Towers. He "peoples" the city with a melting pot of cartoon creatures, similar to the TV show "Bojack Horseman." (It's fun to watch an octopus play the bucket drums in the subway.) He pays homage to other films, including "Psycho" and "The Big Lebowski."

It's all as sweet as can be. (Dog and Robot bond while rollerskating to Earth, Wind & Fire's earworm "September," which becomes their theme song.) But sweet can become saccharine, and too much can lead to a toothache. And the length here lessens the impact of a bittersweet ending.

BONUS TRACKS

The trailers:

 

Auteur, Auteur!

 

HIS THREE DAUGHTERS (A-minus) - A great cast meets a wonderful script under the careful direction of Azazel Jacobs in a story of three sisters whose fraught relationships are put to the test while they watch vigil over their dying father in his last days in hospice.

 

Two of the daughters are the biological offspring of Vincent (Jay O. Sanders, seen only at the end), and one is adopted from a second marriage. (Both of Vincent's wives died of cancer.) As one of the daughters suggested for Vinnie's obit: "Married a couple of crazy bitches; raised a few crazy bitches." Jacobs (who burst on the scene strong with  "Momma's Man" and "Terri" but who meandered for years with "The Lovers" and "French Twist") has meticulously curated an intimate chamber drama full of nuanced interactions and a thrumming realism.

The sisters are Katie (Carrie Coon), the eldest and alpha who speaks in fiats, obsessed with her sister's failure to obtain a do-not-resuscitate order earlier; the peacekeeping Christina, the young mother into yoga and meditation; and gruff Rachel (Natasha Lyonne) a serious pothead with a gambling addiction who has been living in the New York apartment with their father, taking care of him (but not the DNR) while the other two were off raising their families. Katie orders Rachel to take her smoking outside, and Rachel has some charming interactions with the middle-aged security guard (Jose Febus) who knows the situation with Vincent and does his best to look the other way.

Family secrets and old recriminations surface over these few days, but Jacobs is understated in his delivery, and he manages to take an old trope and make it fresh. Most of the action takes place in the apartment, and it feels like a staged play without the staginess. It reminded me of the 2006 Chekhovian drama "The Sisters" -- which also had fantastic writing and knockout performances. 

Lyonne brings a new twist to her slacker shtick, conveying pain and cynicism behind those big eyes. Coon is perpetually put-upon as Katie, the hectoring mother hen. Coon's line delivery early on is mannered, as if she is intoning David Mamet dialogue, but she settles into a rhythm that is less theatrical. Olsen, sandwiched between a couple of heavyweights, is the real powerhouse here, understated but deep as a woman searching for inner peace in the eye of the emotional hurricane. There's a reason why she lives on the other side of the country.

Some minor roles are effective here, too. Rudy Galvan is sly as Angel, the hospice nurse who over-explains what may come next. And Jovan Adepo is cutting as Benjy, Rachel's stoner buddy who calls out Katie on her condescending bullshit. Sanders shows up at the end in an inspired scene that adds a provocative twist. Jacobs gets everything right here, and he trusts his actors with the delicate material.

EMILIA PEREZ (B) - Jacques Audiard is a master filmmaker, and you can't blame him for venturing out of his comfort zone and making a quasi-musical about a Mexican drug kingpin who drops out and transitions to a woman. The flashes of great filmmaking are there, if the execution of the story, sometimes through song, falls short.

 

The camera work is so confident, and the narrative tricks are so smooth, a viewer could easily be lulled into falling deeply for this tale of not only identity, but also loyalty and personal ambitions. Zoe Saldana is the true star as Rita, the conflicted defense lawyer who opts for riches and danger as the facilitator for the murderous Manitas (Karla Sofia Gascon) to fake his death and emerge a few years later as Emilia. At the start of the film, Rita pens the closing argument that wins an acquittal in a big murder case, but she is unhappy with compromising her principles, and Manitas makes her an offer she can't refuse. Out of the frying pan ...

He wants her to globetrot to Bangkok and Switzerland and Israel to set up the anonymous process for Manitas to transition from man to woman. When Emilia tracks Rita down four years later, it is to have her arrange for Manitas' wife and two children to return to Mexico City so that she can be with them again, albeit under the disguise of Tia Emilia. His wife, Jessi (Selena Gomez), welcomes the return from exile in Switzerland, mainly so that she can reunite with the lover she had been cheating on Manitas with.

If this sounds a bit like a telenovela, it's probably because at times it feels just like that. It's not cheap so much as oddly blithe. Combined with the musical interludes, the whole package can be tough to swallow, especially for Audiard fans in the market for a hard-boiled underworld thriller. One problem is that many of the "songs" are tuneless and drab, with characters taking standard dialogue and delivering it in off-key sing-song stylings. Some are effective, especially when Rita goes into Janet Jackson mode with a troupe of dancers, or Manitas mumbles rhythmically in threatening tones, or a child innocently coos to Tia Emilia that she smells like papa -- the latter a pivotal moment halfway through the movie. However, a wacky dance routine featuring doctors and post-op patients is cringe-inducing.

The second half just cannot keep all the narrative plates spinning, and a bloated running time of 2 hours 12 minutes doesn't help (though the last 9+ minutes are end credits). Saldana digs deep to show how Rita, approaching age 40, eventually regrets being a kept woman, with a conscience thrashed by guilt. (Is Emilia, consciously or not, blocking Saldana from having kids?) Emilia channels her own guilt into ordering her former goons to help hunt for young men who went missing during the brutal drug wars. (She goes so far as to fall for a widow of one of the victims; it's a dramatic misstep.) Gomez is one-note as the bitter "widow" who wallows in riches. It is also apparent that the filmmaker never had a good idea about how to end this whole mess.

For Audiard, "A Prophet," which this echoes, is still the high bar he set for himself. After some noodling in the wilderness, he has been back on his game in recent years with the immigrant tale "Dheepan" and the relationship study "Paris, 13th District." "Emilia Perez" is a bold move -- and his storytelling abilities and visual skills are undeniably brilliant -- but his reach for the stars here falls short.

New to the Queue

 Taking the long road home, no short-cuts ...

The latest from Mike Leigh ("Naked," "Vera Drake") studies a bitter, miserable woman, "Hard Truths."

Werner Herzog explores the human mind with his latest documentary, "Theatre of Thought."

A drama about three women searching for connections in Mumbai, "All We Imagine as Light."

From Halina Reijn ("Bodies Bodies Bodies"), Nicole Kidman stars as an executive who enters into a fetishistic affair with a young intern, "Babygirl."

Doc Watch: Feelings, Nothing More Than Feelings

 

YACHT ROCK: A DOCKUMENTARY (A-minus) - You don't have to love the melodic guy-pop of the '70s and '80s to appreciate this documentary about the retro-fitted genre of yacht rock -- though there is bound to be at least one earworm that you didn't realize was still gnawing at a remote region of your brain.

 

Garret Price, a veteran editor, curates a loving, insightful, and funny tribute to the sophisticated pop epitomized by Steely Dan, Michael McDonald (of the Doobie Brothers, above left) and Kenny Loggins. They were soulful dudes who borrowed from jazz and R&B to meticulously craft smooth songs that punks back then loved to hate. The era probably peaked with Christopher Cross (above right) and "Sailing" in 1979 and faded about as quickly as Cross' career (with his second-album flop in 1983). 

There was a lot of overlap between artists back in the day -- McDonald sang backup on Steely Dan songs like "Black Friday" and "Peg," and in 1978 he wrote "What a Fool Believes" (the yacht rock anthem) with Loggins. And there is the famous collaboration between McDonald and Cross, "Ride Like the Wind." 

But the true connective tissue comes from the session musicians who formed Toto. They were the yacht rock Zeligs, whose gigs spanned genres from Steely Dan albums to Michael Jackson's "Thriller."  (It's a good thing that the members of Toto seized the opportunity to play on such memorable tracks, because their own songs were pretty bad. I'll give them "Rosanna"; won't forgive them for "Africa.")

The members of Toto make for great talking heads -- Steve Lukather laments playfully, "Where's my yacht? I played on all those records!" -- as does the soft-spoken McDonald. Price recruits the rascals behind the mid-Aughts comedy web series that coined the term "yacht rock" and which spoofed the songs and personalities of the era. He grabs insightful music critics Amanda Petrusich and Steven Hyden. And there is a gaggle of superfans, including contemporary artists Questlove and Thundercat (and the ever-reliable Fred Armisen). The only obvious exclusion here is Donald Fagen, the surviving member of Steely Dan -- and just wait for the perfect punch line at the end of the move which explains it.

It's easy to look back and mock that SoCal light rock of yesteryear. Apparently the magazine Jacobin described yacht rock as "endlessly banal, melodic and inoffensive, fit to be piped into Macy's changing rooms." But some day you'll have to pry my Steely Dan box set from my cold dead hands. I still remember where I was when I experienced the band's masterpiece "Aja" -- in my best friend's basement on his quality stereo system. I had no idea a recording could sound so sophisticated and three-dimensional. We flipped it to side B and savored the entire album. 

This documentary appreciates the double-edged sword at play here. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. Price gets the details right. He notes that "Aja" helped electronics retailers sell a lot of stereo speakers in the late '70s. (When I made my first major speaker purchase, it was Fagan's pristine solo album "The Nightfly" that pried the credit card out of my wallet.) He is smart enough to bring Cross back and let him tell his backstory. (Did you know the baby face of adult contemporary used to be a drug dealer?) Cross still has that somewhat stunned look on his face, as if he is still processing the news from his agent that his sophomore album tanked.

This is smart, joyous filmmaking that artfully jumps back in time and savors the scene for an hour and a half. It's fun and educational. It dives in, hits the highlights, and then fades out. It drinks its big black cow and gets outta here.

BONUS TRACKS

Another emblematic tune is Michael McDonald's soul classic "I Keep Forgetting":

Here is the needle drop on the "Aja" album, track one, "Black Cow":

And our title track, deconstructed by the Offspring:

Rock Watch: Going Solo

 Two talented musicians deserve better ...

1-800-ON-HER-OWN (C+) - I can't name the title of or hum an Ani DiFranco song, but this crossword-puzzle favorite has been on the radar since the early 1990s as a renegade folkie blazing her own trail on the indie music scene. After watching this sluggish documentary, I still can't latch on to a melody.

DiFranco made her name when she was still a pierced, wild-haired teenager, pushing a propulsive form of post-punk folk and founding her own record label Righteous Babe, blazing a defiant, independent path from the start. This film finds her in a late-career COVID-era menopausal slump, as she is fully slammed with the realization that snubbing major labels for years would inevitably lead to a decades-long slog, struggling to make a buck and pay the bills (the Billy Bragg track). Her spiky youthful attitude has turned into ... just an attitude.

 

We find her on a solo tour (saving money without a band?), now in her 50s, ruminating on her life and her life choices. The former queer idol is in an unhappy hetero marriage in New Orleans with two tween girls, a mom with mundane domestic concerns, like fretting about remote schooling during the pandemic. In anachronistic footage, we see her working via zoom with a producer, Brad Cook (Waxahatchee, Snail Mail), who doesn't really seem to be into her music (and is miffed that she doesn't appreciate his resume). The best footage involves him essentially dumping her remotely in the middle of producing the album that would be 2021's "Revolutionary Love."

On top of all of her troubles, we learn the story of last decade's fallout with her longtime guru, the fellow mastermind behind Righteous Babe, Scot Fisher, over business decisions, one of which involves buying an old church in Buffalo that turned into a money pit. All of this middle-age angst is rather depressing, even across an austere 77-minute running time. The clips from the old days -- full of spit and vinegar -- include a carefree band tour from the '90s, and the flashbacks make you wish you could escape this present-day whiny soccer mom and just wallow in Clinton-era nostalgia. It would be interesting if there were a larger point to be made -- or if the music clips were fuller and livelier -- but we end up with a late-career musician trudging through her 20th studio album, and the best she can think to do his to shave her head for the umpteenth time to keep from crying in front of the kids.

ANONYMOUS CLUB (2022) (C) - Stoned or depressed? I've never been skilled at sussing out that nuance. This film profiles Aussie rocker Courtney Barnett, with narration from an audio diary she kept for three years. And, boy, can it be a bummer.

Sometimes it's best to just let an artist's work speak for itself. Trying to explain things can ruin it. Here, Barnett comes across as a moody whiner -- when she most certainly is not -- blathering into a tape recording. At one point she even admits that she is boring herself (imagine what we're going through!) and notes, "all I do is whinge." 

She describes her own interview performances as "horrendous." Collaborator Danny Cohen, who directs music videos, shoots in dim lighting, partial to mood indigo. She's just a shy, introspective person who grasps for meaning. Maybe it's just best to let her songs speak for her. At one point she tells  an interviewer she doesn't want to literally explain a song and make it "too obvious." 

Appropriately, as we near the one-hour mark, she plays a solo electric-guitar version of Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry." Barnett makes great music. She obviously struggles with performing and being a public figure. Maybe don't participate in any more navel-gazing documentaries.

BONUS TRACKS

DiFranco in 1998, live, with "Not a Pretty Girl," snippets of which are a highlight of the documentary:

 

From 2004, "Evolve":

 

Courtney Barnett with "Sunday Roast":

Here's a fantastic set by Barnett live via KEXP in Seattle from 10 years (!) ago, introducing songs from "Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit," featuring a cool fuzz lead guitar on the opening song, a deconstructed "Pedestrian at Best" and a lovely closer, a Billy Bragg-like solo take on "Depreston":

Touché

 

ANORA (A) - Writer-director Sean Baker is in his own league, and he proves it again with this rollicking rabbit-chase about an escort who marries a client on a whim and ends up ensnared in danger and drama involving his Russian family and their goons. I guess it would qualify as a romantic comedy, albeit translated into Baker's unique cinematic language. 

 

Baker is at home again in the world of sex workers, with a languorous opening shot panning across pole dancers and lap dancers in naked glory. Anora, who goes by Ani, works at the kind of strip club that involves a good deal of off-stage extracurricular activity. She is played with verve by Mikey Madison, who played the oldest daughter on TV's "Better Things" and a Manson girl in "Once Upon a Time ... in Hollywood." Ani hits it off one night with the young Russian playboy Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn), a wisp of a lad who makes Timothee Chalomet look chubby. 

Ani slips him her number and soon they are partying at his parents' Brooklyn mansion at a premium escort rate, with no kickbacks to the house. Things get out of hand, and soon they are getting married during a whirlwind jaunt to Las Vegas. Ani has been rescued from a drab life, and Vanya has someone to rest their head on his chest while he plays video games like a zombie. And so, they grow old together, regaling their grandchildren with their nutty origin story -- not. 

Word of the nuptials gets back to Vanya's godfather, Toros (Karren Karagulian), whose job it is to look after the man-child, and so he sends two of his goons, Garrick and Igor, to break up the party and ship Vanya back to his oligarch parents in Moscow. Vanya escapes and it takes both henchmen to tame the new bride -- as Madison lets loose with all the energy she can muster for a memorable scene. The rest of the film becomes a madcap hunt for Vanya by Toros, Garrick, Igor and the captive Ani across Brooklyn and Manhattan in a race to get the marriage annulled.

You've heard of and seen plots like this before. But no one brings both a street cred and a narrative confidence to the big screen like Baker, who crafted similar odysseys in "Tangerine" and "Red Rocket." At 2 hours and 19 minutes, it is so entertaining you don't want it to end. (He might have shaved some time off the first 20 minutes; he didn't need to show that much sex, though it does set the table for the improbable bond between Ani and Vanya, such that you believe that she intends her sham marriage to last.)

Karagulian, a Baker regular, is fun to watch as the harried ringleader who can imagine the defenestration possibilities if he doesn't deliver Vanya back to Moscow. Vache Tovmasyan is amusing as Garrick, whose initial run-in with Ani leaves him concussed for the second half of the film. And Yura Borisov is a revelation as the thoughtful, caring Igor, who bonds with Ani while he keeps watch on her overnight. They have a fascinating conversation while the TV news drones on in the background, and she mocks him when he mispronounces touché by rhyming it with whoosh. ("Maybe you should learn English before you try French," she scolds.) Madison, rocking a Jersey accent borrowed from Adriana La Cerva of "The Sopranos," is a force of nature from start to finish. It helps, for authenticity purposes, that she is a little homely, though her physical attributes are impressive, and she is eager to exploit them on screen.

I'm not sure what was more impressive -- Baker's casting of the film (in addition to writing and directing, he cast the film and edited it) or the effortless manner of unspooling a narrative with multiple moving parts.  The demolition of Vanya's living room by Ani battling Garrick and Igor is itself a master class in staging. The piece de resistance of casting comes when Vanya's mother, Galina, strides off the private jet in New York. Darya Ekamasova is a perfect ice queen, whom no one can stop from her mission to pry Ani's mitts off of her baby boy. 

"Anora" is a thrill from start to finish, with no moments wasted. It is funny and tragic and sad and heartwarming. Let's call it Sean Baker's masterpiece. For now.

BONUS TRACK

The trailer:

Bebopped

 

SOUNDTRACK TO A COUP D'ETAT (A) - I'm guessing this documentary about the 1961 assassination of Congolese leader Patrice Lumumba, as filtered through the lens of jazz music. Don't overthink it. It will either work for you or it won't.

The vision of ambitious writer-director Johan Grimonprez, "Soundtrack to a Coup d'Etat" smolders for two and a half hours, bebopping around the timeline, music performances, and global politics, in particular the heated cold war between the U.S. and U.S.S.R. It can be a challenge to follow at times, but Grionprez is not here to tell a simple, linear story in a conventional format. 

He takes the historical hook of Louis Armstrong being deployed by the CIA to run interference for the Eisenhower administration's targeting of Lumumba for his challenges to the Congolese government and his push for pan-African unity at a time when African countries were finding strength through unity as a voting block at the United Nations. The assassination led two jazz artists -- Abbey Lincoln and Max Roach -- to disrupt a UN gathering in the days after the killing.

But we're not here for a history lesson. Just let the elements wash over you, preferably in a dark theater when you can have a clear mind and need not worry about the outside world. Grimonprez digs deep into source material for historical perspective, some of which flashes across the screen too quickly to soak up fully. He cribs from an audio diary by Nikita Khrushchev, whose shoe-banging diplomacy was stirring the pot of anti-colonial unrest throughout Africa at the time, potentially threatening the West's access to the nation's uranium mines. The Soviet leader comes off as a clever beta troll.

But most important, the filmmaker drenches the film in jazz music, as connective tissue and for mood and cadence for the narrative. Archival interviews feature Lincoln and Dizzie Gillespie, and there are too many legendary artist performances to mention, including by Roach, Armstrong, Nina Simone, Ornette Coleman and Charles Mingus. Grimonprez lets the songs breathe, and he turns repeatedly to Roach's jangling drum fills to ratchet up the tension.

I can understand if someone walked out after 20 minutes, frustrated by this obscure history lesson. But if you give in and adjust to the rhythms, you may be won over by Grimonprez's free-jazz masterstroke of storytelling.

BONUS TRACKS

One chilling passage features an excerpt from Louis Armstrong's racial howl, "Black and Blue":

There is Nina Simone covering Bob Dylan (which she would not do until 1966) and "The Ballad of Hollis Brown":

And my favorite from the soundtrack, Thelonious Monk with a spare rendering of "Just a Gigolo":

Noir Chronicles: It's a Living

 

PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET (1953) (B+) - Richard Widmark smirks and scowls his way through a taut thriller about a pickpocket who unwittingly swipes a woman's wallet that contains nuclear secrets, which envelops him in a spy caper. 

 

Samuel Fuller ("The Naked Kiss") writes and directs this sharp, slick procedural full of juicy characters and snappy dialogue. Widmark plays it cool as the feds put the screws to him to hand over the film negatives that were in the wallet; meantime, the commie symps ratchet the heat on him too. Caught in the intrigue is the unwitting dame, Candy (Jean Peters), who can't help but start to fall for Widmark's Skip McCoy (even though their meet-cute involves a right hook to the chin).

The ringer here is Thelma Ritter ("All About Eve," "Pillow Talk") as Moe, the necktie-peddling snitch who makes her nut playing both sides. Ritter runs rings around her castmates, bringing depth and soul to a traditional side role. 

Fuller has fun with McCoy's digs, a waterfront shack where the grifter keeps his beer cold by storing it submerged in the water in a contraption that also safely houses his ill-gotten goods. In one memorable scene, Fuller shoots from floor level over the shoulder of McCoy, who is lounging in a hammock, looking up at a cop grilling him. Widmark and Peters steam things up with barely a kiss. There is style to burn and a story that will keep you on your toes until the end.

SPOTTED: Milburn Stone is a police detective. He had 168 movie and TV credits but only one after 1958 -- when he signed on as Doc on "Gunsmoke" and rode that for 605 episodes until its cancellation in 1975.

THE BIG CLOCK (1948) (B-minus) - File this one under serviceable post-war journalism thrillers. George Stroud (Ray Milland) has had it with his oppressive publisher, Earl Janoth (Charles Laughton), and ends up ousted as editor of Crimeways magazine, which investigates various illicit incidents. When Janoth's mistress ends up dead, Stroud must head up the investigation without his staff finding out that he spent the evening with her, shunning his wife and their planned trip to West Virginia.

It's no secret pretty early on that Janoth is the killer (he acted in a spasm of jealousy), and he uses a yes-man to cover his tracks and the entire staff to pursue every lead about the "mystery man" who spent the evening with the dead woman. The staff uses modern techniques like data analysis to sift through clues, and Janoth is obsessed with the precise time, placing a massive clock on the front of the building that houses his publishing empire. The innards of that clock, blinking like a giant computer, will be the scene of a climactic showdown. And there is a small antique sundial that will be used as the murder weapon. (Talk about getting clocked ...)

Journeyman director John Farrow has fun in the final third of the film, when the action is confined to the corporate headquarters and characters scamper up and down stairs and elevators and through offices. Milland ("The Lost Weekend") is a solid lead, and Laughton, sporting an unfortunate mustache, is a mush-mouthed oddball. Elsa Lanchester has fun as an artist caught up in the chaos, and Maureen O'Sullivan (Farrow's wife) sizzles as the slighted spouse. The cutthroat world of magazine circulation wars is parodied to the hilt, and this is a fun knew-dunnit to watch unfold.

SPOTTED: Henry Morgan is a mute henchman for the big boss. He would go on to a TV career as Officer Bill Gannon on "Dragnet" and Col. Potter on "MASH."