The Killer (Netflix): A Review - The King of Cold-Blooded Cinema

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My recommendation: SEE IT. A quintessentially Fincher film in every way. Coldly cinematic, diabolically dehumanized and darkly comedic, this movie’s icy embrace is undeniably compelling.

The Killer, director David Fincher’s new film about a fastidious assassin for hire starring Michael Fassbender, premiered on Netflix this past Friday, November 10.

David Fincher is one of the great auteurs of his generation, and his filmography, which, including The Killer, is twelve films deep, reveals a craftsman of such obsessive precision that it borders on the maniacal.

The Killer is the first Fincher film in his impressive filmography though that seems to unflinchingly reflect the artist himself, as the protagonist, an unnamed assassin, is every bit as meticulous and obsessed with process as the filmmaker telling his story.

The Killer seems to inhabit the same cold, nearly inhuman universe as previous Fincher films like Seven, The Game, Fight Club, Zodiac and even The Social Network. In a very real sense, The Killer feels like a thematic and tonal sequel to those films in the Fincher Cinematic Universe, just told from a different perspective.

Speaking of perspective, The Killer is told, with one notable exception, entirely from the assassin’s subjective perspective, and it is informed by the protagonist’s inner monologue as he goes about his ruthless business. This subjective approach is brilliant as it immediately connects us to the killer (Michael Fassbender) and in doing so compromises the viewer’s moral and ethical standing. We are so immersed into the mindset of this killer-for-hire that we simply accept his profession and ultimately root for him to succeed.

A nearly complete subjective approach to cinematic storytelling is not an easy thing to accomplish, and the proof of that is that other filmmakers rarely ever even attempt it. The God-like urge to show the audience something beyond the protagonist’s limited perspective is just too tempting and so directors succumb, which ends up watering down the audience’s experience.

In The Killer, Fincher and his cinematographer Eric Messerschmidt are, as always, masters of cold, yet deliriously crisp, visuals. Fincher’s signature, Carravaggio-esque, darkened, muted color scheme and use of forbidding shadows make for a glorious visual experience. As does Messerschmidt’s seemingly effortless camera movement and exquisite framing.

Adding to the perverse joy and humor of The Killer is Fincher’s use of the music of 1980’s British alternative band The Smiths. The assassin’s personal playlist on his ipod nano is chock full of The Smiths and their iconic and ironic anthems. Fincher matches his visuals to The Smiths soundtrack and it injects dark comedic irony into many scenes and elevates the film to an enormous degree.

In another rarity, the assassin’s voice-over, which reveals his inner monologue, also elevates and propels the film. Voice-overs are usually the sign of a director flailing, but in this instance the voice-over draws the viewer in to the unreliable narrator’s state of mind.

Fassbender’s killer is like Fight Club’s protagonist, but instead of saying to himself, “I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise”, he says things like “trust no one”, “anticipate don’t improvise” and “skepticism often gets confused for cynicism”.

That the killer is often saying these things to himself while he is actually doing the exact opposite makes for an amusing and revealing trend.

As for Fassbender as the unnamed killer, he is perfectly cast. Fassbender is capable of saying everything while not speaking a word. His lithe frame and steely eyes are all the performance he needs and it fits masterfully with Fincher’s diabolically frigid cinematic style.

Tilda Swinton and Charles Parnell both have very brief, but extremely well done, supporting turns in The Killer, but besides that there is nothing but Fassbender and his delightfully dead pan voice-over.

The Killer, like much of Fincher’s work, seems to me to be a commentary on man’s struggle with his fast-fading humanity in a dehumanizing world.

Fassbender’s killer character seemingly wants to make himself mechanical, like some impervious, emotion-less Terminator. In order to do so he repeats his emotionless mantras like an inhumane prayer or playbook and wears an Apple watch to control his sleeping patterns and even his heartbeat (and maybe, just maybe, deep down to remind himself that he is indeed a human being with a heart).

Yet, despite this nearly mechanical meticulousness, the killer’s failures and mis-judgements, which are numerous, prove him to be all too human despite his best efforts.

The Killer also makes clear that maintaining one’s humanity isn’t just a struggle in the blackened human heart, it is an even more elusive goal in the grim outer world as well. In the world of The Killer, and in the real world, everything is corporate controlled and mechanized/digitized. You don’t use your hands to pick a lock in this modern world, you use your phone or a device to hack it. You don’t use your hands to hotwire a car, you use a fake credit card to rent it. You clean your filthy human body in an anti-septic shower in a soulless airport lounge for corporate customers with frequent flyer miles, like it’s an automated car wash. You don’t wear disguises to conceal your human face, but instead have multiple digital identities named after 70’s sitcom characters that were mere approximations of real people – and whom empty modern people devoid of, and detached from, their cultural history will never recognize.

The mechanized/digitized world, dehumanizes and isolates everyone who touches it, which enables Fassbender’s assassin to swim effortlessly through this icy, corporate-controlled pseudo-simulation of life like a shark through the frigid waters of the Atlantic.

Fassbender’s assassin, for all his inhuman mantras about “don’t trust anyone” and “forbid empathy”, is oddly inspired on his bloody spree by the most human of all emotional states…revenge. In this way, the killer fails miserably at his mechanical/digital ideology while only succeeding in deluding himself.

The somewhat anti-climactic conclusion of The Killer may leave some viewers unsatisfied, but I found it inspired and delightfully diabolical (and without giving away spoilers – it is insightful because it savagely exposes the deeply ingrained power dynamics of class in America, and rightfully eviscerates the proletariat for its flaccid weakness).

The truth is that Fassbender’s killer, for good and for ill, is every single one of us whether we want to believe it or not. Our culture has left all of us just as dehumanized and dead inside as the killer, and just as ultimately incompetent and impotent despite our instinctual desire to be just as demonically depraved.

Fincher masterfully lures us in with his gorgeous and entertaining filmmaking style, and convinces us to identify with, and root for, a committed serial killer. It’s an ugly business, but Fincher makes it look beautiful…and we are ultimately just as guilty as the man pulling the trigger.

I really love David Fincher as a filmmaker, although admittedly, I don’t like all of his films. Some of them, like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Gone Girl (yes, I know, I am decidedly in the minority in that I hate Gone Girl with a passion), are truly awful. Some of them, like Zodiac and The Social Network are magnificent masterpieces. The Killer is not as great as Zodiac and The Social Network, but it is definitely among the better films in Fincher’s filmography.

If you like Fincher films you will, not surprisingly, love The Killer, as it is quintessential Fincher. If you find Fincher films to be hit or miss, I would recommend you at least give The Killer a shot. It’s on Netflix so it doesn’t cost you anything…so why not?

The reality is that in our current culture of mediocrity there’s a desperate dearth of quality films from truly great directors, so you need to enjoy superior artistry when given the chance, and The Killer is definitely your chance.

 Follow Me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Pain Hustlers (Netflix): A Review - Phony and Forgettable

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A remarkably empty cinematic exercise that is neither insightful nor entertaining.

Pain Hustlers, starring Emily Blunt and Chris Evans, in the new Netflix movie that tells the tale of Eliza Drake, a stripper in Florida who becomes a highly successful pharmaceutical saleswoman of fentanyl who gets caught up in a corporate criminal conspiracy.

The film, directed by David Yates and written by Wells Tower, is based on the book of the same name by Evan Hughes and is a true story.

I had heard little about Pain Hustlers before checking it out on Netflix. All I knew was that it was in some way about the pharmaceutical industry and the opioid epidemic, and that is starred Emily Blunt. I am all too familiar with the opioid epidemic and its devastating effects, and I like Emily Blunt, so I thought I’d give the movie a shot.

I regret that decision.

Pain Hustlers is one of those movies, which are all too common in the streaming era, that is instantaneously forgettable. The images and story pass before your eyes and evaporate into the ether before you can even register their existence. This film is so forgettable it feels like I never actually watched it…even though I know I did because I wish I hadn’t.

The story at the heart of the film is interesting enough I suppose, as Eliza Drake’s rise from poverty and fall from grace have great dramatic potential, but everything about the film, its writing, its direction, the acting…is poor.

Let’s start with the casting. I think Emily Blunt is a terrific actress. I just rewatched Sicario and she is phenomenal in that great movie. She’s also outstanding in The Devil Wears Prada and A Quiet Place. But in Pain Hustlers she is painfully miscast as a white trash Florida woman who’ll do just about anything to make ends meet. Emliy Blunt is as an actress is, and can be, many things…Florida white trash isn’t one of them.

Blunt is simply too beautiful, too classy and too put together to ever be white trash. Put her in sweatpants and she doesn’t look cheap she looks like an elegant and chic woman in sweatpants. It’s not her fault…it’s just the way things are.

Due to Blunt’s natural grace and style her Eliza never seems too down and out for us to think she or her daughter are in true peril. And when Eliza climbs the ladder of the two-bit corporation that hires her to sell pain medication, it isn’t all that compelling because Blunt makes Eliza seem like she’s well above the low-rent operation anyway.

Chris Evans plays Pete Brenner, the hard-charging pharma salesman who brings Eliza into the fold. Chris Evans is a truly terrible actor and always has been…but just when you think he couldn’t get any worse as an actor, he gives us Pete in Pain Hustlers. Evans puts on an absolute clinic in awful acting in this movie.

Evans, a native of Massachusetts, is remarkable in that he often times as Pete – but not always, attempts a Boston accent, and yet still butchers it. That the accent comes in and out is forgivable only because, like a toddler trying to play drums, it’s so awful you’re glad he occasionally stops trying.

Evans is one of those atrocious actors who thinks he’s really, really good. Like you can see it in his eyes that he thinks this performance as Pete is definitely Best Supporting Actor ground he’s confidently marching across. This level of irrational confidence no doubt helps Chris get the ladies in real life, but the camera is a bullshit detector and it sees right through a dimwit charlatan like Chris Evans.

The always entertaining Catherin O’Hara plays Eliza’s white trash mom Jackie and somehow manages to not be entertaining at all. O’Hara’s Jackie is nothing but a walking caricature and never manifests as a human being, just an annoyance. If she played this character in this way in a three-minute comedy sketch you’d still think it was shallow.

Andy Garcia plays Dr. Neel, the founder of the pharma company in question, and his performance, which he seems to think is fantastic, is instead flaccid. Garcia huffs and puffs and crazies his way through the role but it all feels like a put on and not an actual performance emulating a real person.

Besides the casting and acting, the direction is as second rate as it gets. David Yates, whose claim to fame is having directed 7 of the Harry Potter/Fantastic Beasts films, tries to turn Pain Hustlers into a combination of Wolf of Wall Street and Goodfellas set in the strip-mall pharma world in Florida, but wildly misses the mark.

Yates interjects black and white interview segments into the film to make it all seem “real”, but these segments are legitimately bad as everything comes across as ultra-phony. It doesn’t help that the performances in those black and white interview segments are particularly bad.

Yates also uses a voice-over (Goodfellas style) that doesn’t propel the narrative but just feels like a cheap way to cover over the glaring flaws in the cinematic storytelling. As my film school editing professor once told me, “voice-overs are bad…unless your Scorsese…and nobody is Scorsese.” David Yates is certainly not Scorsese.

The film is consistently visually stale, the performances are relentlessly uneven and remarkably dull, and the story lacks a compelling or dramatically satisfying arc. What is left is a big budget after school special film that comes and goes without the least bit of notice. That stars like Emily Blunt and Chris Evans are in this film only makes it all the more perplexing as to how this got made…and why.

Pain Hustlers is set in 2011, in the wake of the first wave of the opioid epidemic when a chill had gone through the pain management industry thanks to America’s waking up to Purdue Pharma’s rapacious greed and criminality. The drug at the center of this movie though is not oxycontin, but rather fentanyl, an opioid even more powerful, and deadly, than oxycontin.

The film tries to walk along a straight razor as it argues that fentanyl is a great drug, but that corporate greed is what causes it to become problematic due to over prescribing. It presents charming rogue pharma salespeople as the real working-class heroes who get screwed (sometimes literally) by the corporate big wigs who ruin the fentanyl utopia these hard-working, hustling salespeople created.

That is a very complicated moral and ethical argument to make, and maybe it’s a worthwhile one, but Pain Hustlers and its director Yates are too low rent artistically (and intellectually) to ever clearly make this argument, or any argument regarding the opioid crisis coherently. Which is a shame as nuance is welcome artistically even in the most seemingly Manichean of circumstances.

In recent years there have been numerous opioid epidemic projects based on non-fiction books that have made it to streaming services. In 2021 there was the miniseries Dopesick on Hulu, and in August of this year the miniseries Painkiller premiered on Netflix. While Dopesick wasn’t great, it was decent enough…but now with Pain Hustlers, Netflix has churned out two straight, similarly titled, really bad opioid themed projects based on books in the span of three months. Not good.

As much as I proselytize and evangelize regarding the horrors of the opioid crisis (which is still ravaging the country) and the villainy of the pharmaceutical industry and the corruption of our government, I simply cannot recommend Pain Hustlers as it isn’t informative, insightful or entertaining.

The truth is that Pain Hustlers is completely and entirely forgettable, so don’t waste your time watching it. I’ve not read the book Pain Hustlers by Evan Hughes, but I can only hope that it is better than the movie…so go read that. Or better yet, go read the books Dopesick by Beth Macy, Painkiller by Barry Meier, American Overdose by Chris McGreal and Dreamland by Sam Quinones. What you discover in those books about our country and the moral and ethical corruption of our vile ruling class, will change the way you look at our world and help you to understand that those who rule and own us, passionately despise us and actively want to do us great harm.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

This Week in Propaganda - 60 Minutes Edition

PROPAGANDA WATCH - 60 MINUTES

As the world has rapidly deteriorated over the last few years I have steadfastly stayed away from writing about politics and world affairs for the sole reason that it felt like a Quixotic quest to tackle such toxic topics.

Propaganda has, in this age, become so all-encompassing in our daily lives that my job of dissecting it in my writing became an entirely fruitless exercise, like handing out speeding tickets at the Indy 500.

The reality is that no matter how many articles, news segments or political comedies I could have eviscerated for being obvious propaganda meant to mis or dis-inform the masses, nothing would change. Echo chambers and information silos are too air-tight nowadays, making critical thinking all too uncommon, and when attempted, much maligned. As a result, no one would wake up from their establishment media trance just because little old me was desperately trying to knock the scales from their eyes so that they could see the Truth.

The simple fact is that it is too late. The blood-red dye has been cast in regards to our nation and the world and the best-case scenario for me was simply to keep saying over and over again, “I told you so”, which, despite what Gore Vidal’s insistence that they’re the four most beautiful words in our common language, is incredibly depressing.

Staying away from the noxious environs of corporate news and vapid political comedians like John Oliver, Bill Maher and the excruciatingly awful Late-Night hosts, was a very pleasant experience, as forcing myself to watch all of that vacuous garbage felt exceedingly masochistic.

But now, after roughly two years respite, and as the world stumbles blindly into world war and our nation into well-earned collapse, I find myself, much to my chagrin and frustration, charging headlong into the breach once more.

My reenlistment into the unwinnable propaganda war happened quite by chance as a little over a week ago I had just watched a football game and was distracted…and then the old CBS Sunday night stalwart 60 Minutes started and I got lulled in to watching the first segment. This segment, hosted by Scott Pelley, featured the domestic intelligence chiefs of the “five eyes” countries (US, UK, Canada, New Zealand and Australia). To say that this segment was ridiculous to the point of absurd would be a colossal understatement.

Then I watched the second segment, which was about Emad Shargi, an Iranian-American convicted of being a spy in Iran and imprisoned until he was part of a prisoner and cash swap orchestrated by the Biden administration. This second segment was a laugh out loud piece of unintentional comedy that made the first segment seem tame. I bailed on the final segment of the episode, which was about the pop singer Pink because…well…it was about the pop singer Pink for fuck’s sake.

I did not write about my 60 Minutes experience all week, adhering to my pledge to stay away from such topics…but then the following Sunday I saw one segment of the next 60 Minutes episode, which featured a segment on Georgia (the country, not the state)…and well…here we are.

The first thing to understand is that it is not by coincidence or accident that as the ruling class malignant neocons try to convince Americans to go to war across the globe, that 60 Minutes runs three inane and insane, manufactured propaganda segments in back-to-back weeks vociferously declaring that China, Iran and Russia are evil incarnate and pose existential threats to the US, democracy and the “West”.

Let’s start with the segment on Emad Shargi, the Iranian-American recently released from an Iranian prison. This segment was so obscenely slanted and perversely propagandized as to be the ultimate in anti-journalism.

The “reporter” running the segment was Margaret Brennan who has the uncanny ability to always look like she is about to cry.

Brennan walks us through the tale of Emad Shargi, an Iranian who immigrated to the US as a teen before the Iranian revolution in the late 1970s. Shargi went to school in the US and became a chemical engineer and started his own business. Good for him.

During the Obama presidency, in the wake of the “Iran deal” which Trump would later rescind, Shargi thought it would be ok to go back to Iran…so he did…even though his father warned him not to.

He is then arrested and charged with being a US spy.

This is where things get pretty interesting…or funny…depending on your perspective.

In recounting his story, Shargi, who is such an obvious phony as he is acting from start to finish everytime he’s on camera, tells of armed revolutionary guards coming to his home in Iran in the middle of the night. These police hold him and his wife at gunpoint and refuse to tell him for what crime he is being charged.

Margaret Brennan, with eyes swollen with tears, is shocked and horrified by the tyrannical brutality of these Iranian police behaving in such a manner. I had a different thought…namely that this exact thing happens dozens, if not hundreds, of times every day in another country…the United States of America, where police routinely raid people’s homes with guns drawn and whisk them off in the dead of night with no explanation of the charges. Apparently, Ms. Brennan is blissfully unaware of this reality.

Shargi then goes on to explain that he was taken to the “most feared” prison in Iran, Evin prison, and put in the “intelligence” wing ruled by the fearsome Revolutionary Guard.

Shargi recounts how he was put in a small room to be interrogated and a big man came in and yelled and threatened him and then another man came in…as Shargi called him “the good cop”, who promised to make it all stop if Shargi just confessed. Shargi refused because he said, with a wry smile, that he wasn’t a spy.

Brennan then jumped in and in typical 60 Minutes fashion fed a line to Shargi, by saying “…and then the torture began”. The funny part of it was though that Shargi responded by saying, “yes…threats of torture”. If you were paying attention, you’d notice that “threats of torture” is not exactly torture.

Shargi then went on the explain that he was “tortured” by being threatened with physical violence, waterboarding and a wide array of terrible treatment. How quaint. I know of hundreds, if not thousands, of American prisoners who would have loved to only have been threatened with physical violence and waterboarding.

As for Shargi’s interrogation…he was treated exactly like countless American prisoners interrogated in police houses across the country every night. The good cop-bad cop routine is so well known as to be Hollywood cliché at this point.

As for Shargi’s fear of the notorious Evin prison…you think low level criminals sent to Riker’s Island feel the same way Shargi did going off to Evin prison? Yeah…they do. Is Evin any worse than San Quentin? Holman? Pelican Bay? Angola? Sing Sing? Attica? Folsom? ADX Florence? I think not.

Shargi then tells an incredible part of the story that gets completely ignored by the spectacularly inept Ms. Brennan. Shargi tells of how, while out on bail, he is approached by someone who tells him he should escape from Iran while he has the chance. He is then aided in an escape attempt but is caught 30 miles from the Iranian border.

Let’s unpack this shall we? So, Iran is such a despotic, draconian tyranny that it lets out suspected spies on bail? That would seem to contradict the narrative that Shargi, Brennan and 60 Minutes is trying to push…which is why they never adequately address the issue.

Secondly, who is this mysterious person who counsels Shargi to escape and aids them in doing so? More on that in a bit.

Once Shargi is captured and returned to Evin prison, he is sent to see, as he describes him, “a hanging judge”. 60 Minutes then shows a picture of this judge and it’s like something out of comedy sketch, as it is the worst picture of this man ever taken as he looks menacing and angry…like a “hanging judge”. Nice tabloid touch there for 60 Minutes.

Here's the thing regarding this “hanging judge”. First of all, every judge is considered a “hanging judge” by the people being judged by them. Secondly…and most importantly…this “hanging judge” oddly enough doesn’t sentence Shargi to hanging…which is strange since he’s supposedly a “hanging judge” and Iran does hang people. No Shargi is sentenced to ten years in prison…which is no cake walk but it also isn’t being hanged, nor is it as bad as say twenty years in prison. Go to any prison in America and you’ll find lots of people who’d be thrilled to only get ten years from a “hanging judge”.

Shargi then tells the story of a riot that breaks out at Evin prison, during which prisoners are lighting fires and guards are shooting at them. A frightened Shargi decides to stay in his cell and risk asphyxiation rather than be shot by the brutal Revolutionary Guard.

But then a funny thing happens…the Revolutionary Guard rescue Shargi and take him out of harm’s way. Or as Brennan describes it, the Revolutionary Guard saves Shargi because he was “more valuable to them alive than dead”. What kind of twisted logic is that? People save someone’s life and their only motivation is because he must be worth more to them alive than dead? This is classic dehumanizing propaganda as plain as day, reducing Iranians to heartless, soulless devils who only ever have bad intentions and are incapable of doing something good….and if they do do something good it is for bad reasons.

But here’s the thing…what is so fascinating about the Shargi segment is that it ends with Shargi back home in the US in his very nice home doing regular things with his wife. You’ll never guess where this gorgeous home is located…the Washington D.C. area. Washington is a strange place for a chemical engineer to plant his flag and make his home. It’s also a strange place for a chemical engineer who hasn’t worked in well over five years to have such a nice home, as real estate is extremely expensive.

It's also curious that Shargi when he went to Iran was working for a “Dutch firm” as a consultant. As a chemical engineer working for a mysterious “Dutch company”, Shargi would have been compelled to make contacts with Iranian chemical engineers and scientists...all of which seems like something an intelligence agent or asset would be doing. The “Dutch company” is a standard cover for this type of intelligence operation, and Shargi’s being a “consultant” gives him one more layer of cover.  

Now back to the mysterious person who encouraged and aided Shargi in his escape attempt. It seems more likely than not that that person, who not only whispered in Shargi’s ear that he should escape but also had a support system in place designed to help him do just that, was Shargi’s intelligence handler who was trying to get his asset out of a hostile nation for fear of the whole network being exposed or captured.

In conclusion, it seems to me that Emad Shargi, despite his denials, was an American intelligence agency asset or agent, and may have been working for the US intelligence community for quite some time even before he went to Iran.

You would never even consider such a blatantly obvious idea if you listened to Margaret Brennan and her ilk at 60 Minutes, but if you read between the lines, it becomes pretty clear that Emad Shargi is not what he says he is.

Speaking of frauds, the segment on the “five eyes” intelligence chiefs in that same episode was chock full of them. As Scott Pelley, with propaganda boner fully engorged, was so proud to say in the segment, this was the first time in history that the five eyes intel chiefs had ever appeared together on television….and they did so because we are in so much great danger.

Watching FBI head Christopher Wray and his collection of vile intel whores gathered around a table was like watching a meeting of midwit bureaucrats at the Lollipop Guild.

The main takeaway from this segment was that China is really, really bad. The main reason China is bad is because they don’t play by the rules of international capitalism….the horror!

These morally and ethically obtuse idiots went on and on about how China is the biggest evil in the world because they cheat at capitalism by stealing intellectual property. They also claimed that China interferes in US elections (that familiar claim again!)…funny…they never mentioned Israel’s relentless and obvious interference in US elections though.

One of the main points was made by Wray when he said that China stealing intellectual property from US corporations isn’t “just a Wall Street problem, it’s a Main Street problem” because it costs Americans jobs. How cute…so Wall Street, corporate America and the investor class rape and pillage the working class and obliterating unions for decades by sending their jobs overseas to China on the free trade express…and now we’re supposed to give a shit that American companies are being fucked in the ass by China? Cry me a river asshole. That ship sailed back in the 80s with Reagan, 90s with Clinton, and 00s with Bush, if you cared about the American people you would’ve stopped China back then when it mattered and could be contained. You didn’t. Instead, you took the short end money and gutted the U.S. manufacturing base and working class…so fuck you if the beast you let loose on poor and working people is now devouring you.

And then there was this week’s episode of 60 Minutes, which featured the segment on Georgia and Russia. The main takeaway from this segment was…shock of shocks…Russia is bad!! It even includes an interview with an old lady to prove it!

The segment starts by pointing out that Russia is “occupying” a portion of Georgia after a flare up of hostilities in 2008, and then goes on to make a big deal of Russia’s “quiet invasion” of Georgia through immigration. I wonder if 60 Minutes has ever done an aggressive bit of journalism on how the US is occupying 25% of Syria (the land being occupied is…shock of shocks…resource rich)? I doubt it.

The main thrust of the piece after that is that Georgia, which borders Russia, is angry that so many Russians are coming to their country, many to avoid military service, and are remaking the nation.

The president of Georgia, Salome Zourabichvili, is furious about it and adamant that Georgia, for its protection, be allowed to join the EU. Ummm…Mrs. President Lady…if you’re worried about waves of unwanted immigration changing the face of your nation, you’ve got as big surprise coming to you if you join the EU…just ask Sweden.

If Georgia joins the EU they’ll get the privilege of being swamped by a tsunami of immigrants from a variety of third world shitholes in Africa and the Middle East. You think Russians are bad? Russians are driving up apartment prices and starting businesses in Georgia because they bring money and education to Georgia. Wait ‘til you get unemployable military aged men from Africa and the Middle East demanding free government services and committing crime at astronomical rates coming to your country instead.

Speaking of which, if 60 Minutes wants to do a story on how immigration, in this case illegal immigration, can destroy a culture and turn a first world nation into a third world nation, I have a scoop for them that will require absolutely no overseas travel at all. They won’t even have to travel to Texas to see it…they can just walk outside of 60 Minutes’ New York City offices.

In conclusion, 60 Minutes is, in their own self-righteous, journalistically vapid way, banging the drum for World War III by putting out these rather ridiculous and obviously manufactured segments touting Russia, China and Iran as the new “axis of evil”...and there are plenty of dupes and dopes in this country who will march right along with that tired old beat. Idiots who demand we keep throwing our hard earned money at Ukraine and Israel will demand we send our young men (but never their young men) to fight and die for those insidious countries when our money alone isn’t making enough of a difference. The same will hold true when China takes Taiwan.

As General Smedley Butler once astutely observed, “war is a racket”, and this new world war is going to be no different. 60 Minutes is just a delivery boy for the true villains of this story, the evil neocons and the venal charlatans in our government and their equally vile Zionist paymasters.

World War III isn’t coming…it’s already here and has been since at the very least the charade of the Maidan and U.S. led coup in Ukraine in 2014. If you don’t know that, then that is on you. If you want to stop it, I have bad news….you can’t…it is inevitable. Flailing empires in steep decline do not go quietly into that goodnight, and our empire will be no different, but probably considerably more violent than the ones that preceded it into the scrap heap of history.

Expect to see, in the coming days, weeks and months, some catastrophic event…a major false flag and/or green flag terror attack on US or European soil or an attack on US military installations, ships or troops, or something like that, which will completely silence any anti-war voices and rally the mindless masses to send their young men into the unwinnable meat grinders awaiting them in the Israel/Middle East, Ukraine/Eastern Europe and/or Taiwan/Asia.

In these troubled times the bullshit piles up so fast you need wings to stay above it…so do what I intend to do…keep your head up and start flapping your arms…it’s the only chance you have to try and keep a keen eye on the Truth and maintain your sanity, integrity and soul. Good luck.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

No Hard Feelings: A Review - An Impotent Sex Comedy in the Age of Political Correctness

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A sexless sex comedy that fails to be funny.

No Hard Feelings, a much-hyped comedy starring Jennifer Lawrence, hit theaters back on June 23rd, but I, like most people, didn’t trek out to the theatres to see it then. But it is now available on Netflix and I finally got a chance to check it out.

The film tells the tale of Maddie Barker (Lawrence), a 32-year-old working class Uber driver and bartender living amongst wealthy elites in her hometown of Montauk in the Hamptons.

Maddie lives in a modest home in the otherwise tony Hamptons left to her by her mother when she died. Despite her house being paid off, Maddie cannot afford the local property taxes and must hustle to make ends meet. The town repossesses her car due to unpaid taxes and therefore Maddie is unable to do her Uber side hustle and faces the loss of her home.

She then stumbles upon an ad placed by a wealthy couple who want to socialize their helicopter-parented, nerdy, shy, reclusive 18-year-old son Percy (Andrew Barth Feldman) for the summer before he goes off to Princeton. In return for Maddie “dating” their son they will give her a used Buick Regal…as long as Percy never finds out about the arrangement.

The deal is made and then comedy is supposed to happen but never really does.

No Hard Feelings, which is written and directed by Gene Stupinsky, a writer/director/producer of the American version of The Office, was supposed to be a glorious renaissance for the raunchy comedies of the first decade of the 21st Century – like 40-Year-Old Virgin and Wedding Crashers. Unfortunately, the renaissance of raunchy comedy will have to wait as No Hard Feelings falls as flat as a shit pancake and never even manages to muster a minimal chuckle.

The film’s comedic beats are all a bit off and never land with any rhythm or power. Stupinsky’s direction is shoddy as performances are uneven and many scenes feature continuity errors that speak to a less than sturdy hand at the directing wheel.

Stupinsky’s script is even worse than his direction as a big part of the reason why the film stumbles from sub-par scene to sub-par scene is that the story is unnecessarily complicated.

For instance, the twists and turns of Maddie needing to get a car so she can then work as an Uber driver in order to earn enough to pay off her taxes, is convoluted and dilutes any narrative momentum. Why not just simplify and say Maddie needs $20,000 to pay off her taxes and these rich parents will pay her that to date their teenage son? That approach would streamline the story and allow the characters and their relationship to develop instead of wasting time setting up a premise that doesn’t work.

As charming as Jennifer Lawrence can sometimes be, and she can be extremely charming at times, her performance here is an unruly mess that never coalesces.

For example, Lawrence does a very courageous full frontal nude scene in the film that is played entirely for laughs, but it’s so poorly executed and so tonally and narratively obtuse that it just feels uncomfortably stupid instead of ballsy and bold…and I say that as someone who wholly encourages Jennifer Lawrence, and any actress really, to do as many full-frontal nude scenes as possible. Needless to say, this particular full-frontal nude scene isn’t even remotely funny, never mind the least bit titillating.

Andrew Barth Feldman plays the neurotic Percy and is as charismatic and interesting as a stray tumbleweed. Feldman brings no inner life to his character and so Percy is just a walking, lifeless prop who loiters on screen. To call Feldman’s performance flimsy would be generous.

Percy’s parents are played by Laura Benanti and a ghastly looking Matthew Broderick. Benanti is quite good in the small role as the overbearing, self-conscious mother. Broderick, on the other hand, looks like he ate two Ferris Buellers and is auditioning for the role of the corpse in a stage revival of Weekend at Bernie’s at a dinner theatre just off the interstate in Dayton, Ohio.

Broderick is a perfect example of Stupinsky’s weakness as a director, as his line readings are so flat that he monotonously misses the rhythm and beat of every joke in every scene.

No Hard Feelings was hyped quite a bit back in June when it hit theatres, as it was held up as a sort of rebirth of the raunchy sex comedy but from a female perspective. This approach was novel but ultimately fell short of expectations as the film only made $87 million on a $45 million budget.

Of course, if No Hard Feelings had switched the genders and had a 32-year-old man trying to bang a nerdy 18-year-old girl, it may have created a nuclear meltdown and caused its creators to be sent to the gulag by woke culture warrior Torquemadas for atomic levels of toxic masculinity and cultural problematicity.

The truth is that the traits that made 40-Year-Old Virgin and Wedding Crashers funny, and remarkably successful and popular, namely their raunchy, risqué and randy nature, are verboten in our painfully tight-assed current culture. And so, when a film like No Hard Feelings comes along and tries to emulate that previous era’s comedic tone, but only within very stringent creative and comedic, politically correct limits, it’s neutered before it starts and stands barely a chance to be successful on any level, be it creatively, comedically or financially.

No Hard Feelings is aware of the woke hurdle it must overcome and even tries to chide the suffocating political correctness of this era in a sequence at a high school party, but it, like every other sequence in the film, falls flat and feels decidedly flaccid.

The ceiling for No Hard Feelings was that it could’ve been mildly amusing…but it needed the script to be sharper and the direction to be more precise for that to happen as it would’ve given a chance for Jennifer Lawrence to shine. But the egregious limitations of our current cultural age upon comedy, and the glaring skill and talent limitations of Gene Stupinsky as a writer/director, scuttled the possibility of No Hard Feelings being even average before it ever got going.

If you missed No Hard Feelings back when it was in theatres in June, you dodged a bullet. The truth is No Hard Feelings is too bland and dull to even elicit hard feelings from me…only indifference. This movie represents much of what is wrong with the current state of film comedies…so trust me when I tell you there’s no need to waste your time on this sub-par, unfunny, toothless comedy.

©2023

Ahsoka (Disney +): TV Review - The Force is Female...and Boring as Fuck

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1.75 out of 5 Stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Just a poorly written, poorly acted (with the lone exception being Ray Stevenson) series that further diminishes the Star Wars brand.

This past week Ahsoka, the most recent of Disney’s Star Wars series, concluded its eight-episode first season on Disney +. The series, which is a spin-off from The Mandalorian and stars Rosario Dawson in the title character, follows Jedi Warrior Ahsoka Tano as she investigates a potential threat to the New Republic in the wake of the fall of the Empire.

If I’m being kind, I would declare that Ahsoka is completely and entirely forgettable. If I’m being honest, I would say it is an embarrassment. This series, like so much of Disney’s Star Wars material, is at best a missed opportunity, and at worst an absolute atrocity.

Ahsoka’s failings are numerous and include, but are not limited to, completely ignoring any sort of previously set rules for the Star Wars universe. For example, the “rules of the force” are abandoned entirely, as is the deadly nature of the light saber, a once fearsome weapon which is turned into a mere flesh wound maker on Ahsoka.

Besides destroying the most fundamental of things from Star Wars canon, one of the other major issues with Ahsoka is the abysmal acting and inferior cast.

I remember seeing Rosario Dawson when she made her big screen debut in the unnerving Larry Clark film Kids (1995). Dawson was a natural screen presence and absolutely magnetic in Kids, but a lot has changed in the last 28 years. Over the ensuing decades Dawson has become not just a bad actress, but a terrible one. She was so atrocious in the recent Hulu series Dopesick as to be shocking. Here in Ahsoka she is so uncomfortable on screen that it left me actually perplexed. If I saw one more scene where a wooden Dawson as Ahsoka just folded her arms and stared blankly at her scene partner, I was going to light myself on fire. Dawson folds her arms so often on Ahsoka that if you did a drinking game where you did a shot every time she crosses her arms in an episode…you’d die.

Then there’s Dawson’s awkward, anti-athleticism in the fight scenes. To be fair, the fight scenes on Ahsoka are poorly staged, poorly shot and poorly executed. They all seem slow, dull and like they’re being performed underwater, but Dawson in particular moves like an arthritic, elderly woman in a nursing home….as opposed to the mere unathletic middle-aged woman she is.  

The younger actresses in the cast fare no better in terms of fighting or acting either.

Natasha Liu Bordizzo plays Sabine Wren, a Mandolorian and former Jedi apprentice to Ahsoka. Wren is an egregiously poorly written character, but Bordizzo doesn’t help matters by being so vacant in the role. Sabine is supposed to be the energizing force in the series but she’s so vacuous as to invisible. Making matters worse is that Bordizzo is just as bad as Dawson in the action sequences despite being half her age.

Diana Lee Inosanto, daughter of famed martial artist Dan Inosanto (under whom I trained many moons ago), plays Morgan Elsbeth, and unfortunately, is not a good actress. Inosanto is terribly stilted and uncomfortable to watch as she’s devoid of even the slightest bit of presence. Even her fight scenes are yawn-inducing, which is shocking considering her impressive lineage.

Then there’s Eman Esfandi who plays Ezra Bridgers. Esfandi looks like a guy who would be cast to play Jesus in a National Geographic documentary re-enactment, and has that same level of talent too. Esfandi has all the charisma of a tumbleweed and seems like a background actor who mistakenly stumbled in front of the camera.

The big bad in the series is Grand Admiral Thrawn, underwhelmingly played by Lars Mikkelsen. Thrawn is an epic character in the Star Wars universe and here he is reduced to loitering through each scene which he so barely inhabits.

The most striking thing about Ahsoka is Ray Stevenson, who plays Baylon Skoll, a Dark Jedi who stands in the way of Ahsoka as she pursues the truth. Stevenson is literally the only actor in the entire series who brings any inner life to his character. He’s also the only actor with presence and gravitas. When Stevenson is on-screen he effortlessly demands your attention. Stevenson is one of those British actors who is just highly skilled and a master craftsman. His skill and craftsmanship are subtle but extremely effective and the rest of the cast would have done well to learn from him.

Baylon Skoll is also the only interesting character in the whole series, but unfortunately, he is sidelined for the majority of it. Even worse, Stevenson tragically died after filming the series, which is a terrible loss for all of us…made all the worse in that Baylon Skoll will never get his own series.

That Stevenson, who had a bit of a knock around career despite being a fine actor, is the best actor in this series by a mile says a great deal. In contrast, Andor, another Star Wars series, was littered with top notch performances by people with similar careers and backgrounds to Stevenson. Why the hell can’t Disney just cast decent actors like Stevenson in EVERY Star Wars series and movie and in every role?

The writing on Ahsoka is as bad as there’s ever been in a Star Wars series, which is quite an accomplishment. The plot is incomprehensible to the point of being just plain silly (lightsabers can’t kill, there are stormtrooper zombies, witches, and space whales…yes…fucking space whales), and the dialogue is Junior High School drama club level of bad.

Of course, there’s the usual Star Wars nostalgia injection to placate old timers hungry for their lost youth, this time in the form of Anakin Skywalker, the always dreadful Hayden Christensen, and C3PO. One would need to be lobotomized to care the slightest about either cameo.

Since Disney bought Star Wars back in 2012, the franchise has undergone a transformation that has left it bereft of the things that made it noteworthy in the first place. To be fair, Lucas hadn’t exactly crushed it with his lackluster prequel trilogy, but Disney’s post-Lucas Star Wars output makes the prequel trilogy look like The Godfather trilogy.

Since the Disney takeover of the galaxy far, far away, the studio and Executive Producer Kathleen Kennedy have, for some reason, decided to declare that “The Force is Female”. The problem is that the female force, whether in films or series, has proven to be boring as fuck.

Why Disney has leaned so far into gender politics in Star Wars that they’ve stumbled over their own sagging tits is beyond me. Star Wars has, for the most part, been something boys have nerded out over since it hit big screens back in the 70s. The animating myth and archetype of Star Wars is, as Joseph Campbell told us, a masculine one. Disney’s intention to turn the franchise mythos into a girl power vehicle is so obviously self-defeating as to be demented as it neuters the Star Wars myth and renders its archetypes psychologically powerless, diminishes the Star Wars brand and alienates the core audience.

That Disney is also castrating their Marvel myth and brand with the same diminishing creative, artistic and commercial results, only makes the decision to feminize Star Wars all the more perplexing.

The bottom line is that the Star Wars franchise in general, and Ahsoka in particular, are symptoms…and Disney is the disease. Disney’s steadfast determination to inject cultural politics into all of their franchise material and ignore artistic and dramatic quality has aggressively corroded the value of Star Wars (and Marvel) to an astonishing degree.

Star Wars tv series like Ahsoka should be slam dunks for Disney as the franchise is chock full of fascinating stories and characters, and yet the studio consistently churns out underwhelming, if not abysmal, series that act as little more than cultural political vehicles that ultimately actively destroy what people used to love about Star Wars.

In conclusion, Ahsoka is simply not worth your time or energy. Even hardcore, rabid Star Wars fans should skip Ahsoka as it really is a blight on the brand.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Encounters (Netflix): A Documentary Mini-series Review - The Truth is Out There...But Not So Much in Here

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

 My Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT/SEE IT. Newbies to the UFO story might find this a decent if uneven place to dip their toe into the topic. Viewers more informed on the UFO phenomenon won’t find much useful in this tepid and tame mini-series.

Encounters is the new four-episode docu-series on Netflix that explores four different UFO mass sightings at four different locations across the globe. The series, which premiered on the streaming service September 27th, is garnering some attention because it is produced by Steven Spielberg’s production company Amblin.

As someone who has had a longtime interest in the subject of UFOs, and who has read and watched a great deal about the phenomenon, I was excited to see Encounters. With UFOs, or as they’ve now been deemed UAPs (unidentified aerial phenomenon), finally being publicly taken seriously by governments and the media after years of being scoffed at, the opportunity for quality documentaries to inform audiences and initiate further investigation is at an all-time high.

Prior to Spielberg’s Amblin Entertainment producing Encounters, other high profile Hollywood producers/directors have stepped into the UFO breach in recent years in similar fashion. JJ Abrams’ 2021 docu-series titled UFO, is one example.

Encounters is very similar in some ways to Abrams’ UFO as both are four-part docu-series, both cover a lot of familiar ground that UFO afficionados will know well, and both are decent enough starting places for the uninitiated to dip their toe into the UFO subject. Unfortunately, both are also, despite their best intentions, middle-of-the-road, rather forgettable projects.

Unlike Abrams’ UFO series, Encounters for the most part stays away from the UFO hot topics that have made headlines in the last five years or so and instead focuses on four mass sightings in recent and not-so-recent history.

The first episode is about the 2008 sighting by hundreds of people in Stephensville, Texas.

This first episode is, like all the others, very well shot and professionally produced. The witnesses presented aren’t just credible but are interesting, and their stories are compelling. Even more compelling is the radar evidence discovered after a FOIA request that backs up the claims of those who saw UFOs and saw F-16s quickly chase after them.

One minor issue I had with the first episode is that it never mentions that Stephensville, Texas is very close to the home of George W. Bush, who was President of the United States at the time of the UFO incident. This seemed a curious omission in recounting the tale.

Episode two covers the 1994 encounter at the Ariel School in Zimbabwe. This incident is fascinating, but the episode is a bit bumpy. For instance, 60 students claim to have seen a UFO and an alien in broad daylight, but one student, who is now a grown man, claims he made the whole thing up and everyone else just went with it and now believe the delusion. I understand wanting to show both sides of an argument, but this lone student seems, frankly, unhinged, and his testimony about it being a hoax feels, ironically enough, absurd in the face of the counter evidence.

This episode is noteworthy solely because it introduces the remarkable Dr. John Mack, the late Harvard psychiatrist who in the 1990s began to take the alien abduction phenomenon seriously.

John Mack’s story is worthy of an extensive documentary all its own, but Encounters is only able to give a brief background on his astounding career and the impact he had on the subject. One can only hope that a more extensive documentary on Mack is produced, but for the time being this quick review in episode two will hopefully pique newbie’s interest in the man and his work.

Episode three examines the 1977 Broad Haven Triangle incident, in which a bevy of Welsh school boys and townspeople witnessed UFOs and aliens. This episode was the weakest of the bunch as it never streamlines its storytelling or clarifies the bizarre incidents in question.

The incident itself is fascinating, as all of the children who witnessed it were quickly separated by skeptical teachers and asked to draw what they saw, and drew the same thing. The counter point is that at that time the culture was awash in UFOs and so all people, not just children, had a foundational understanding of what UFOs would look like and thus rendered them in unison upon request.

Much of the other witnesses in the Broad Haven case tell interesting stories but they feel less compelling, and frankly less believable, than the three other incidents examined in this series.

The final episode looks at the plethora of UFO sightings in Fukushima, Japan after the horrific earthquake and tsunami of 2011.

This episode features the very best video evidence in the series, but also wanders down some pretty bizarre, and frankly, unhelpful paths when interviewing residents of the area.

For example, one woman, a drama teacher and pseudo-spiritualist, claims she is an alien and is inhabiting a body on earth to witness the great transformation that is happening. This woman, who is like every other new age kook I’ve ever met, and trust me when I tell you I’ve met a hefty number of them, suffers from the shadow disease of new age-ism, namely egregious narcissism. Why the producers would include such an obviously low-credibility nutjob like this woman is beyond me as it demeans the topic and diminishes the mini-series.

The spiritual element of UFOs is a big topic in this episode as the cultural differences between East and West are explored, with the East being more open to UFOs as some sort of spiritual phenomenon rather than a physical one.

The Fukushima UFO case is one of the more evidence-based ones, so it makes the producers decision to focus on more esoteric subjects rather than on the actual evidence very counter-productive and dismaying.

On the whole, Encounters is disappointing for someone like me as I know a lot about these incidents already, and the series doesn’t really bring anything new to the fore.

To someone with any background in UFOs, Encounters is decidedly tame and feels rather out of date. If the series came out a decade ago it would’ve felt much more relevant and interesting.

That said, if you spend the majority of your time in the mainstream and are a newbie to the UFO subject, then Amblin’s Encounters could be a decent enough place to dip your toe into the topic, as would be JJ Abrams’ tepid UFO series.

But if you want to take a serious look at the subject of UFOs, I would recommend starting with the work of documentarian James Fox, whose films Out of the Blue (2003), I Know What I Saw (2009) and Phenomenon (2020), are as good and as informative as it gets in the genre.

With those three films as your foundation, you’ll have a solid understanding of the history of the subject and how we got where we are today, and what might come tomorrow.

As for Encounters, despite covering some truly vital incidents, it never rises to be anything more than a brief overview of a topic worthy of so much more.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 107 - No One Will Save You

On this episode, Barry and I talk about No One Will Save You, the terrific new sci-fi/horror movie on Hulu. Topics discussed include UFOs, the uncomfortable accuracy of the film's  title, the excitement of an ambitious and well-made movie, and the exquisite performance of actress Kaitlyn Devers. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 107 - No One Will Save You

Thanks for listening!

©2023

No One Will Save You: A Review and Commentary - Keep Your Eyes to the Sky for the End is Nigh

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 3.75 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. A flawed but fantastic film that features a mesmerizing lead performance and top notch sci-fi and horror thrills.

In a movie year that has thus far been consistently underwhelming, No One Will Save You, the new sci-fi horror film currently streaming on Hulu that was written and directed by Brian Duffield, is an invigorating cinematic experience that far exceeds expectations.

No One Will Save You tells the story of Brynn (Kaitlyn Devers), a young woman living alone in a rural part of America in modern times (the exact year is never made clear at the film’s open). Brynn is an odd duck and an outcast in her rather unfriendly small town. She is unquestionably living a life of alienation and isolation…and then some-thing arrives in the middle of the night, and she is forced to deal with it…and with other things she’s long tried to avoid.

To be clear, No One Will Save You, which is writer/director Duffield’s second feature film, has its flaws and it isn’t perfect, for instance the last quarter of the film is tonally and stylistically not as strong as the first three quarters, but it is ambitious, inventive, very well-made, exceedingly well-acted and undeniably compelling.

Director Duffield shoots the film with an impressive amount of confidence and directs with a strong but deft touch. In order to avoid spoilers, I will not get into specifics but will only say that there are numerous scenes that are expertly choreographed and shot that leave you feeling like you’re in the hands of a master. For example, the kitchen sequence, bedroom sequence and basement sequence, are all top notch and exceed expectations and audience conditioning.

Even the last quarter of the film, which transitions from a survival story to a sort of spiritual and psychological, Jungian confrontation with the self, despite its unorthodox nature, is handled extremely well from a filmmaking perspective.

Throughout the movie Duffield pays homage, and borrows liberally, from a plethora of films, like Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Signs, War of the Worlds, and even The Exorcist, but he does so subtly and ultimately ends up putting an original spin on his alien encounter movie that in lesser hands could have been a trite and forgettable cinematic experience.

Duffield’s greatest tactic is that he consistently pushes back against the audience’s conditioning. We think we know what will happen next and how Brynn will behave, but Duffield almost always subtly subverts that expectation, and it is often exciting, occasionally confounding, but always compelling.

As great as the directing is on this film, the straw that stirs the drink is Kaitlyn Devers who stars as Brynn. Devers, who speaks only one line of dialogue in the entire film, is absolutely mesmerizing as she carries this entire enterprise on her shoulders and never falters.

Devers, who was terrific in the 2021 Hulu miniseries Dopesick, fills her continuous silence with a vibrant and vivid inner life that reveals itself in her expressive eyes. She wisely avoids the pitfall of over expression and simply lets her Brynn be and react in the moment, even when frozen in horrifying moments.

Devers’ skill and talent are on full display in this movie, and it is the type of performance that can catapult an actress on the road to the A list. One only hopes that Devers follows an artistic path rather than chase stardom, as she seems well-equipped to play nearly any role, but ill-equipped to do vacuous Hollywood bullshit.

Another notable thing about No One Will Save You are the visual effects. The film’s stated budget is $22 million and one can assume that a healthy portion of that went into the CGI aliens and it is money well-spent as the look and feel of the aliens elevate the film a great deal.

Most films with a smaller budget would bend over backwards to avoid showing the aliens in order to save money, but director Duffield never shies away from exploiting his superb supply of aliens.

The aliens in this film are fantastic as they are familiar enough to us from previous movies, but are still unique and original in their own right. The most impressive part about them is how organic and real they seem, and the diversity of alien types.

No One Will Save You comes at an interesting time in terms of taking the notion of aliens and UFOs seriously. In recent years the subject has been taken much more seriously by the political establishment and the mainstream media.

Just this year we’ve had congressional hearings on the issue and have had legislation passed giving whistleblower protections to people in the know who’ve been working in the shadows on the topic and may literally and metaphorically know where the bodies are buried. Exciting stuff for someone like me who’s been ravenously devouring any and all UFO related info since I was a kid.

In this context, No One Will Save You is an unnerving tale as it lays bare a likely reality regarding the UFO phenomenon…namely that aliens are not here to help us and that they are not benign. Many in the ufology field and many in the military hierarchy believe that UFOs and aliens are malignant predators and likely colonizers or destroyers. Some believe that the reason “disclosure” of all UFOs and aliens is being thwarted by the powers that be is because civilization will collapse when humans acknowledge that the reality of aliens on earth means we as humans are considerably lower on the food chain than we had hoped.

In this sense No One Will Save You is correct…if aliens are real and are coming to earth, no one will save us from them…not your community, not your government and not your church – as shown in the movie. If history teaches us anything it is that beings that have advanced technology and intelligence will enslave and slaughter those who are intellectually and technologically inferior.

The film’s title isn’t just accurate in regards to an alien invasion, as the coming collapse of not just the American Empire, but also the U.S. dollar and the economy as well as the entirety of Western Civilization (American and European), will lay bare the cold hard reality that…No One Will Save You. Your government won’t save you, the magic soil you live on won’t save you, the police won’t save you, your community won’t save you, your church won’t save you and your delusions of national grandeur won’t save you. And some benevolent alien species finally revealing themselves and solving all of our problems won’t save you either.

The Fourth Turning is upon us here in the West and that sound you faintly hear is the thin ice we’ve been living on cracking right before we plunge into the deep, dark depths of a new dark ages.

All the signs are there and they are flashing bright red. From our decadent culture to our decrepit ruling class to our malevolent media to our know-nothing citizens and our criminal underclass and criminally corrupt overclass. The house of cards is teetering and when it falls, not if it falls – but when…NO ONE WILL SAVE YOU.

Another interesting subtextual idea that you can ever so slightly perceive in the film is that tyrannical leadership, a sort of fascist or communist oppressive system, is the only thing that can keep humanity/community alive, even though the illusory life led under that despotic rule is not really living. In order to avoid spoilers, I won’t get into the specifics of how that conclusion is revealed in the film, but I think by the end it becomes clear.

Neo-Cons and war-hungry Neo-Liberals might argue that the thesis of the film is that the aliens are the Communist Chinese and they aim to wipe out human freedom and control all people…I am not reflexively anti-China but I can see that interpretation, especially considering the notion of social credit scores and incessant surveillance.

Regardless of what the film means – and it could mean even more than I’ve spelled out here, it is undeniably cinematically invigorating and definitely worth watching. Despite its flaws it features a terrific performance from Kaitlyn Devers and strong direction from Brian Duffield, as well as some fascinating CGI aliens. Overall, I highly recommend No One Will Save You to anyone even remotely interested in sci-fi movies or horror films, and even to those who don’t usually get into those genres.

 Follow me on Twitter: MPMActingCO

©2023

Painkiller (Netflix): A Miniseries Review - An Uncomfortably Dumb Take on the Opioid Holocaust

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This miserable mess of a miniseries is so abysmal it dishonors the actual victims of the opioid epidemic.

Like many people, the opioid epidemic, which has ravaged this country for the last quarter of a century, has had a direct and profound impact upon my life. The particulars of my situation are personal, so I won’t share them here, but just know that the topic of the 21st century’s plague of opioid addiction is one which holds great importance to me and of which I know a great deal. So, when Painkiller, the new six-episode Netflix miniseries debuted on the streaming service on August 10th, I was very interested.  

The series, based upon the nonfiction book Painkiller: An Empire of Deceit and the Origin of America’s Opioid Epidemic by Barry Meier as well as an article in The New Yorker by Patrick Radden Keefe titled “The Family That Built an Empire of Pain”, dramatizes the story of the deplorable Sackler family - owners of Purdue Pharma, and the powerful drug they developed and deceptively marketed, Oxycontin, an opioid equivalent to heroin which sparked an epidemic of addiction across America that has killed over a million people and devastated the lives of at least five times that.

I’ve read both Meier’s book and Keefe’s article, as well as all of the other relevant gospels about the opioid epidemic, like Dopesick by Beth Macy and American Overdose by Chris McGreal (as well as Dreamland by Sam Quinones about the heroin trade). I found all of the books to be indispensable in trying to understand the magnitude of the evil unleashed by the Sacklers and the insidious and insipid corruption endemic in America. (I recommend them all but if I had to list them I’d say 1. Dopesick 2. Painkiller 3. American Overdose…I’d also say that Dreamland is absolutely, without question, essential reading not just on the topic of opioids but in general.)

The Sackler family pharma empire was started by Arthur Sackler who in the 1950’s turned medicine into a marketing and sales business. In the 1960’s Arthur came up with brilliant marketing plan for Valium and masterfully inflicted mother’s little helper onto an unsuspecting public. Thirty years later his nephew Richard would do the same with Oxycontin, which unleashed an opioid apocalypse upon America.

The scope and scale of the Sackler family’s diabolical nature is difficult to grasp as normal human beings simply cannot even begin to comprehend the rapacious evil of malicious and malignant mega-sociopaths. But normal people can grasp the consequences of the Sackler family’s inherent evil because they were the ones who suffered under it. For the last twenty-five years no one has been safe from Oxycontin’s spread. Rich, poor, urban, rural, it didn’t matter. Everyone knew someone who was devastated by the opioid epidemic that went across this country like a blitzkrieg.

Some areas were originally harder hit than others. Western Virginia for instance, was initially targeted by the Sackler machine because it had high rates of disability claims, which in the Sackler’s eyes meant high need for opiates and addicts-in-waiting. If you look at a map and draw a circle around Western Virginia which encompasses South-Western West Virginia, Southern Ohio and Eastern Kentucky, the release of Oxycontin and its accompanying marketing campaign was the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb being dropped at its epicenter. In its wake, tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, died and families and communities were destroyed. I read one statistic that left me shocked which said that in some of the counties in this area 75% of children in schools were being raised by someone other than their birth parents because of the opioid epidemic. The magnitude of this catastrophe is nearly impossible to comprehend.

Of course, rural Virgina, West Virginia, Southern Ohio and Eastern Kentucky weren’t the only places the be obliterated the by Sackler’s scorched-earth Oxycontin campaign, as it was nationwide. And it should come as no surprise to anyone with a brain between their ears that in corruption riddled-America it was operatives and bureaucrats from both political parties that pushed Oxycontin through the FDA approval process and then exerted influence to make sure that the Sacklers got off scot-free for their crimes. Corruption makes for strange bedfellows as people like the Democrat douchebags like Saint James Comey and Clinton lackey Mary Jo White, as well as Republican uber-scumbag supreme Rudy Giuliani all played big parts in covering the Sackler’s asses.

But enough of what actually happened during the Oxycontin-fueled, Sackler-family-instigated opioid crisis, let’s get to Painkiller which attempts to dramatize these events.

Unfortunately, Painkiller, which is created by Micah Fitzeman-Blue and Noah Harpster, and directed by Peter Berg, is absolutely atrocious, an utterly abysmal affair, so much so that it does a tremendous disservice to the victims, living and dead, of the Sackler slaughter.

The series attempts to tell a vast story by using four narratives that are meant to tie together. There’s the story of Richard Sackler (Matthew Broderick), president of Purdue Pharma and driving force of the Oxycontin express. Then there’s Edie Flowers (Uzo Uduba) – an assistant U.S. attorney, who is sort of a narrator to events. There’s also new Purdue Pharma Oxycontin saleswoman Shannon Schaeffer (West Duchovny) as well as the story of working-class addict Glen Kryger (Taylor Kitsch).

The biggest problems with Painkiller are the uneven tone, the atrocious casting and equally awful acting.

Let’s start with the tone. Each episode starts with real parents of people who have died from opioid overdose, and their stories, as brief as they are, are absolutely heartbreaking. You can feel the profound depth of their pain just by hearing them speak a few words, or in their inability to speak a few words. Seeing the genuine and devastating pain of these parents and then contrasting it with the phony baloney, tone deaf bullshit which follows in the dramatization of the epidemic which killed their children, feels very uncomfortable if not outright disrespectful.

For example, the Richard Sackler storyline is so ridiculous as to be absurd. Richard is haunted by the ghost of his evil uncle Arthur, and has conversations with him. Yes, that’s not a misprint, this actually happens throughout the series. Richard lives in a pseudo fantasy world which borders on the slapstick. It is impossible to take this garbage seriously, especially when it is preceded by real people struggling to keep their shit together as they briefly recount the hell that is the loss of a child.

Then there’s the grounded story of Glen Kryger, who struggles with addiction to Oxycontin. The tone of this is more serious, and it feels like the rest of the series should follow suit, but none of it does.

Jumping from Richard Sackler’s fantasy life to Kryger’s reality hell to the odd capitalism porn of saleswoman Shannon Schaeffer’s life and then to the entirely extraneous (and fictional because the character is made up) history of Edie Flowers is enough to cause whiplash and induce vomiting.

As for the acting, let’s start with Matthew Broderick. Broderick as Richard Sackler is an embarrassment. Fat Ferris fakes his way through the role and never even remotely touches the ground. He hams his way through scene after scene with the vitality of mule on barbiturates and the charisma of cadaver in the hot sun. Equally awful is the seemingly always awful Clark Gregg, who plays the ghost of Sackler sparked epidemic past in the form of Richard’s uncle Arthur Sackler, the guy who started the whole Sackler shit sandwich from which we have to take a bite.

Both Broderick and Gregg are embarrassingly bad in their roles, and they aren’t helped by Peter Berg’s asinine direction.

Peter Berg is, at his very best, a third-rate directing talent, but at his core he is a visionless, talentless, hack. His direction on this series is no less than disgraceful. The uneven tone, which varies widely between gritty realism and absurdist fantasy, is so poorly executed as to be offensive to anyone who has suffered as a result of the Sackler scourge.

Berg’s incompetence, ineptitude and inability to make anything dramatically coherent should come as no surprise considering his horseshit filmography, but considering the stakes involved with Painkiller, it is still a major disappointment.

As for the rest of the cast, Uzo Aduba, who has somehow won three Emmys, is an absolute mystery to me. Never has an actress so devoid of talent, skill and charisma been so overly praised and honored. Adding to the entire issue with the series, Uduba’s character Edie Flowers is totally made up. I would assume the producers felt they needed a woman of color to bring the black girl magic to the opioid epidemic (they needed a heroine to fight heroin!) and to sassily stand up to all those evil white men who made it happen. Of course, that isn’t what happened in real life…and shoehorning diversity and inclusion into a story about an epidemic that killed vastly more white people than black, feels pretty disgusting to me (btw…. The Hulu miniseries Dopesick did the same thing, no doubt for the same reason, creating Rosario Dawson’s DEA agent character out of thin air just to appease the diversity gods. God help us all), as does trying to shoehorn the crack epidemic and race into the story, and then somehow attempting to give a black crack dealer absolution for their sins. Could it be that the black crack dealer and Richard Sackler are both vile animals worthy of violence upon them? Or is that too complex for simpleton twats like Peter Berg and company?

Ultimately, Aduba is an egregious bore and a grievous burden to the story. We don’t need her character and we certainly don’t need her and her aggressively amateurish acting which feels like a petulant child pouting and preening in order to get more ice cream.

Dina Shahabi plays Britt, a morally and ethically compromised Oxycontin super saleswoman who is absolutely wild about capitalism…and she is maybe the worst actress I’ve seen in a major film or tv project in the last decade…which is saying a lot. Shahabi is so transparently dreadful and in over her head as to be painful. If I saw a child in a middle school play act this badly, I would not only demand their drama teacher be fired but also physically assault them (the teacher not the child!)  for their crimes against the art of drama.

West Duchovny, daughter of David Duchovny and Tea Leoni and this week’s winner of the Hollywood Nepotism Award, is a pretty blonde who plays Shannon Schaeffer, Britt’s pretty blonde protégé/salesgirl. Duchovny is considerably better than Shahabi, but that doesn’t mean she’s particularly good….because she isn’t.

On the bright side, Taylor Kitsch is a good actor and he does superb work as Glen, a forty-something mechanic who gets hurt and goes down the Oxy rabbit hole to hell. Kitsch has always been a good actor, but the fact that he’s able to rise above the shit swamp that is Painkiller and acquit himself so well where others fail so miserably, speaks to his talent and skill.

Carolina Bartczak, who plays Lily, Glen’s wife, also brings a refreshing bit of realism to her role and does some solid work as well.

As much as I like Kitsch and Bartczak and found the Kryger family storyline to be the most compelling, I also found it to be an inadequate representation of the horrors of the opioid holocaust. Glen Kryger is no one’s child. We never meet his parents. We never get to know any younger people ravaged by the Sackler scourge, which I think is a missed opportunity as it would’ve been even more impactful.

As previously mentioned, Dopesick, based upon the Beth Macy book of the same name, was a Hulu miniseries that premiered in October of 2021. It covers the same exact ground as Painkiller but is much more thorough, accurate and effective. I thought Dopesick was very flawed but worth watching for Michael Keaton’s absolutely stunning performance. As flawed as it was, Dopesick looks like The Godfather and Citizen Kane combined when compared to Painkiller.

The bottom line is that the story of the Sacklers and the opioid epidemic is vitally important and to have this terrible tale told in such a frivolous, flippant and glib way is, frankly, blasphemous if not criminal.

Peter Berg, Matthew Broderick and the rest of the sorry sons of bitches who made Painkiller should be ashamed of themselves for trying to exploit the devastation of real people, and for doing so in such a shoddy and shitty manner.

I wholly encourage you to skip Painkiller the series and instead go read the book Painkiller, as well as Dopesick, Dreamland, and American Overdose. It is absolutely vital that people understand what happened with the Sacklers, the corruption in modern America, and the intimate horrors of the opioid epidemic. The scope and scale of this story is vast but reading these books will help you understand, in gruesome, minute detail, the world we live in and the evil and vile people running it, and how the powers that be see us regular folks as nothing more than disposable cannon fodder for their misery-inducing, money making machines.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Barbie: A Review - Pink Bubblegum Bullshit

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!****

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Underwhelming and disappointing. If you’re desperate to see it I’d say save your money and wait until it hits a streaming service.

I had no intention of seeing Barbie, the new blockbuster about the iconic Mattel doll starring Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling, because I didn’t HAVE to see Barbie. You see, when I worked as a cultural critic for RT I had to watch and write about a lot of stuff I wasn’t that interested in simply because other people were interested in it which meant that it was culturally relevant. Well, I no longer work for RT so I no longer have to do that.

So, when Barbie came along, I just thought, due to the film’s obvious cultural politics and the fact that the film’s writer/director is Greta Gerwig – someone whose work I’ve never thought much of, it wasn’t for me so I’d skip this new battle in the endless and tiresome culture war.

But then Barbie, due to its relentless and highly effective marketing campaign, became an undeniable phenomenon, hauling in over a billion dollars at the box office and igniting a fan frenzy not seen at cineplexes in years, so I thought maybe I should see it. And then my wife said she wanted to see it…and whatever Lola wants…Lola gets! My thinking was, if people are going so nuts for this film - then maybe it’s worth seeing.

I went to a 10:30 AM screening on a Tuesday morning. Barbie had been in theaters for over two weeks at this point and still my screening here in mundane Middle America was totally sold out. Barbie is, like the recent Taylor Swift tour, satiating a primal need among our collective feminine culture for a massive communal “event”. An example of this eventizing impulse was that the theater I attended, which admittedly is not particularly big, looked like a sea of Pepto Bismol as it was overwhelmingly packed with pink wearing middle aged women (including one wearing just a big pink t-shirt…which didn’t cover nearly enough of her nether regions as it should have!) as well as teenage and pre-pubescent girls donning a ton of pink…along with some rather unfortunate looking pink-clad teen boys imprisoned in the friend zone desperate to win favor with their girl crushes with whom they were attending the screening.

My hope in seeing Barbie was that it was good and that I’d like it – I wasn’t the least bit interested in hate watching it. I fully expected to dislike the de rigueur girl power politics – something which I find to be pitiful and pathetic, but I hoped to like the film despite its predictable politics…something which I often do (for example my review of Promising Young Woman) if for no other reason than my own personal politics are so unorthodox.

The opening scene was a perfect example of what I was hoping for…as the film opens with a glorious homage to Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, where Gerwig replaces Kubrick’s monkeys with little girls playing with baby dolls and the mysterious monolith is replaced with a towering Margot Robbie as Barbie. While I was off-put by the visual of little girls smashing babies (even if they are dolls) in reaction to their newfound Barbie evolution, I still nodded in approval at this brilliant bit of moviemaking and it filled me with great anticipation for what followed.

And then I watched the rest of the movie. Unfortunately, it was all downhill from there as the film meandered aimlessly through a convoluted yet corporate cookie-cutter plot, allergic to profundity or purpose, and never even remotely approaching the genius of its opening.

In totality Barbie is an underwhelming, disappointing, cheap, shoddy, shitty, bland, boring, corporate money-grab wrapped in a vacant, vapid and vacuous feminist manifesto. In other words, Barbie is a poorly made version of exactly the thing it often pretends to belittle and/or satirize.

The film begins in Barbieland, a matriarchal utopia devoid of not only male power but babies or children….even the lone pregnant Barbie is exiled to the outskirts of girl boss heaven. The bit of the film initially set in Barbieland is ever-so-slightly amusing at first and then it gets old very, very fast. There’s a dance number in this Barbieland sequence that is supposed to be fun and funny but that is so anemic and tiresome as to be astounding. The low point is when Gerwig uses a ridiculously cliched record scratch to inject reality into the phony festivities. Yawn.

The final two-thirds of the film feature Barbie venturing to the “real world” – which is nothing like the actual real world, and the “real world” venturing in to Barbieland. All of it is sloppy but the scenes in the “real world”, in particular, are a total storytelling and cinematic shit show devoid of any redeeming cinematic qualities. The Barbie in the real-world, fish-out-of-water stuff shockingly doesn’t even muster a minimal amount of comedy.

To be fair, I did laugh out loud a few times during Barbie, all thanks to the aggressively amusing Ryan Gosling who absolutely crushes it as the desperate and dim-witted Ken. Gosling is destined to be nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his unbreakable and unshakeable performance as Barbie’s platonic boy toy.

Speaking of the Oscars, it’s 100% guaranteed that there will be a Barbie-themed musical number at this year’s Oscar ceremony. You can absolutely bet your life on that. You can also count on Mattel to turn the success of the Barbie movie into a Broadway musical…which is an eerily similar concept to the hysterically funny Marvel musical featured in the Disney Plus series Hawkeye…except Mattel won’t be making the Barbie musical ironically.

Margot Robbie is ridiculously gorgeous and perfect as Barbie but there isn’t much there, there. Robbie’s physical perfection is all she needs to play this part and when she’s asked to do more than that her acting is undercut by a really abysmal script that is chock full of cringe, freshman level women’s studies diatribes that ring hollow and feel forced making Barbie feel less human than she already is.

Besides the glorious Gosling, the other supporting performances in Barbie are shockingly devoid of life.

Who knew that both Kate McKinnon and Will Ferrell could not only be so unfunny, but so bland and so forgettable? You’d be hard pressed to find two more energized comedic actors but on Barbie they seem constrained to the point of comatose.

Somewhat surprising is that for a movie full of Barbies, there’s only one attractive one in the bunch – Margot Robbie…and she is certainly very attractive despite the sneaky and obtuse internet marketing campaign prior to the film’s release arguing that she isn’t. I have no problem with a Barbie movie featuring the vast diversity of the Barbie doll collection…which means we get a black Barbie, a fat Barbie, a wheelchair Barbie, a trans-Barbie and so on…but what befuddles me is why do all these Barbies have to be so “beauty-impaired” and visually unappealing?

The rest of the supporting cast are all interchangeable, dull and completely forgettable. Issa Rae and Simu Liu are like two sides of the same charisma-deficient coin. Neither one is remotely interesting or likeable.

Michael Cera as Allan feels like he’s in an entirely different movie…maybe because the script he has to work with is so incoherent and idiotic.

America Ferrera plays Gloria, a mom and Mattel employee, and she is utterly abysmal. She does get to have the big monologue in the movie which begins with “it’s literally impossible to be a woman…” and goes downhill from there. This monologue has middle-aged women across the nation pumping their fists in the air like gold chain and muscle shirt wearing Guidos at a Rocky movie when the Italian Stallion gets off the canvas and beats the shit out of the villain du jour. But here’s the thing…I understand the perspective behind the “it’s literally impossible to be a woman” monologue, but the fact is it isn’t “literally” impossible to be a woman…billions of women do it every minute of every day. Yes, it is no doubt difficult to be a woman due to the constant contradictions one must navigate…but you know what else is equally difficult…being a man. The obstacles and difficulties one must face and overcome as a woman are no harder than the ones men must overcome, they’re just different.

Life is hard for human beings, and for modern day feminists to claim empowerment by perpetually play the victim all while demonizing men, is pretty repugnant and frankly counterproductive.

Barbie also does what our awful culture has normalized which is to conflate masculinity with toxic masculinity, a perilous proposition since it is unquestionably masculine men that carved out a safe space in a dangerous world where women are free to make insipid and insidious films about how awful men are.

My wife, a very, very independent, powerful and, dare I say it, feminist woman, turned to me after the film and the first thing she said was that she found it to be “damaging”. As the mother of a young son, she felt the film sent a negative message to girls and woman not just about the nature of men and boys but about what it means to be a girl/woman, so much so that it depressed her and made her fear for the future. And I must say, I completely concur with her astute observations.

I’ve heard it said that Barbie is Black Panther for white women, and that is very true as Black Panther was an overhyped, shitty movie too that became super successful because seeing it was an act of cultural-political virtue signaling.

Other movies have somewhat captured the cultural political zeitgeist in the same way that Barbie has but from a different angle. For example, Clint Eastwood’s American Sniper was a terrible movie but flag waving numbskulls flocked to see and support it because it reinforced their patriotic – or rather anti-liberal, bona fides. That American Sniper was a God-awful movie regardless of its politics was irrelevant as all the flag-wavers loved it even before it started – they loved it simply because it existed…just like the pink clad buffoons are enamored by Barbie regardless of how obviously bad it is.

Sound of Freedom is another movie that is a virtue signal movie currently in theatres. Sound of Freedom is about the scourge of child trafficking and has become a cause celebre for anti-libtard right wingers and as a result has done exceedingly well at the box office – raking in over a hundred million dollars. No doubt the crossover of American Sniper fans with Sound of Freedom fans is enormous. I’ve not seen Sound of Freedom…mostly because I just assume it is poorly made…but I can plainly see that it’s a virtue signal movie just like Barbie.

Another film I thought of when watching Barbie was, ironically enough, The Passion of the Christ. Mel Gibson’s 2004 film smashed box office records for an independent film and made him something like half a billion dollars since he financed it himself. Gibson wisely marketed the film directly to churches and church groups and it became a cultural signifier among Bush loving right wingers.

The marketing of The Passion of the Christ was remarkable, as, just like Barbie, everyone was talking about it even if they hadn’t seen it. Barbie’s marketing was brilliant because it removed the film’s politics from the campaign, made it seem as if it were for adults AND kids (it’s not for kids!) and it was absolutely everywhere. You couldn’t escape the Barbie marketing machine, and frankly still can’t. That the marketing campaign has succeeded in making Barbie a cultural phenomenon doesn’t diminish the fact that the movie is garbage.

Truth be told I’ve never understood the critical love for Greta Gerwig’s films. Gerwig’s 2017 film Lady Bird was so overrated as to be astonishing. Critics adored the film yet I found it to be painfully thin and embarrassingly amateurish. It seemed to me that Gerwig, much like Jordan Peele who came out with Get Out in the same year (2017), was cashing in on the angry liberal political hysteria of the post-Trump election and were being elevated due to their race and gender, not their talent. Having seen both of Gerwig’s and Peele’s films since 2017 has only reinforced my belief regarding their lack of talent and skill and the absurd critical love they’ve received.

As for Barbie, I’ve had a rather interesting perspective on the film as I’ve watched from a distance as the usual suspects on both the left and right instinctively and reflexively loved or hated the film. Having finally seen the movie I can say that people who love it, who when pressed on its numerous shortcomings all say the same thing in defense of it, namely that “it’s fun!”, are delusional dupes and dopes. On the flip side, many of the critics reflexively hating it are so stuck on its politics that they don’t even care to examine the filmmaking….which feels less delusional than just plain disingenuous.

As for me, I didn’t like Barbie for the sole reason that Barbie isn’t a good movie.  Barbie isn’t funny and it isn’t interesting. That the film pretends to be rebellious, if not revolutionary, in its messaging, but then spews out the most corporate-friendly and approved, pedantic neo-feminist pablum, wrapped in a cavalcade of visually listless, dramatically lifeless, comedically flaccid scenes, makes it feel like watching a pink-hued Human Resources film for corporate employees to learn the new Diversity, Equity and Inclusion office rules.

The bottom line is that the masses being so enamored of Barbie says considerably less about the quality of the movie than it does about the easily manipulated morons populating our world and their astonishing level of group-think and gullibility, as well as the sorry state of our society and cinema.

Unfortunately, so few people nowadays are self-aware or introspective enough to resist massive marketing campaigns like the one around Barbie, which brainwashed otherwise intelligent people into not only mindlessly devouring this odious, rancid corporate pink taco but declaring they love it. I too succumbed and took a bite of the gigantic, rancid corporate pink taco that is Barbie, but to my minimal credit I at least am not foolish enough to don an oversized pink t-shirt sans pants and shriek “yummy…how fun!”

In conclusion, it is literally impossible for me to recommend Barbie.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 105 - Oppenheimer

On this apocalyptically combustible episode, Barry and I go nuclear in our discussion of Christopher Nolan's new movie Oppenheimer. Topics discussed include a heated debate over the movie, musings on Nolan's career and a ranking of his filmography from top to bottom. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 105 - Oppenheimer

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Oppenheimer: A Review - Destroyer of Worlds, Creator of Great Cinema

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. The rarest of the rare in our current culture, an exquisitely crafted movie made for grown-ups. A masterful work that deserves to be seen on the big screen.

Oppenheimer, the new film written and directed by Christopher Nolan which recounts the life of J. Robert Oppenheimer, the man who first made the atomic bomb, is a stunning accomplishment for a variety of reasons.

The first of which is that it is made with a level of technical and cinematic proficiency rarely seen in our current age of mundane, mind-numbing, moviemaking sub-mediocrity.

Secondly, Oppenheimer is remarkable because it’s a mature movie made for adults that features zero fights and car chases that has generated a tremendous amount of interest, and if reports are to be believed, box office.

My screening here in flyover country (I’m currently living on a farm in an undisclosed part of Middle America) at noon on a Saturday was packed with a striking cross section of regular folks, the overwhelming majority of which I can confidently assume do not consider themselves cinephiles or even count themselves among regular movie goers.

As I watched the three-hour film that consists almost entirely of dramatic scenes of people talking unfold before me, I couldn’t help but wonder if these ‘regular’ people around me liked this film as much as I did.

Oppenheimer tells the sprawling story of its protagonist’s struggle with the moral and ethical burdens of his world-altering calling, but compresses it into an intimate drama that, much like how Oppenheimer builds the first atomic bomb, explodes inward first, which then triggers the greater outward conflagration.

Watching Oppenheimer, one cannot help but marvel at a filmmaker bristling with confidence and competence, the former of which is all too common (and unearned) and the latter of which all too rare nowadays. This is an ambitious movie to the point of being audacious, and I cannot think of another living filmmaker who has the unique artistic style and populist storytelling skillset of Christopher Nolan who could even approach pulling it off.

To be clear, I am not some Nolan fanboy. I respect him greatly but have had some mixed feelings about his previous work. For instance, I thought both The Dark Knight and Dunkirk were masterpieces (I think Dunkirk is his greatest film and one of the very best films of the 21st Century), but I thought Interstellar and Tenet were garbage. On the whole I find him to be a sort of new generation Spielberg without the shmaltz and obsession with children. He is the rare auteur nowadays who makes big budget – big box office, popular movies.

Nolan empties his bag of moviemaking tricks on this one as he uses time jumps, different film stocks and aspect ratios, and wonderfully deft editing to create a mainstream movie that often feels like an impressionistic fever dream.

The key to the success of this massive undertaking is Cillian Murphy who plays Oppenheimer – the American Prometheus who gives the ultimate fire to humanity. Like Dr. Frankenstein, he meddles with powers beyond his moral comprehension that ultimately hunt and haunt him for the rest of his life. If Murphy fails even a little bit in the role this movie crumbles under the weight of its own ambition, but he never stumbles, not even a little.

Murphy is able to convey the vivid, rich inner life of his character with a single, hollow-eyed close-up, and Nolan takes full advantage of his talents. Over the course of the film Murphy’s Oppenheimer goes from being a ravenously ambitious student to a callously arrogant expert to a hollowed-out martyr desperate to be punished for his egregious moral sins and all of it feels grounded and genuine and gloriously compelling.

Another very effective performance comes from Robert Downey Jr. as Lewis Strauss, an administrative admirer of Oppenheimer and bureaucratic bully. It was an absolute joy to see Downey back to serious acting after his long and fruitful run as Iron Man. Downey has not lost his chops as his Strauss is a cauldron of conflicting and conniving energy that is captivating to watch.

The other stand out performance comes from Gary Oldman, who has just one scene, but he is phenomenal in it. It’s a testament to Oldman’s prodigious talent that he can be so thoroughly unforgettable in a mere matter of moments in a movie.

The rest of the cast, for the most part, acquit themselves well enough. Matt Damon as a demanding American General Leslie Groves, is fine, as are the cavalcade of actors like Casey Affleck, Kenneth Branagh, Rami Malek and Josh Hartnett who pepper the cast.

Florence Pugh and Emily Blunt are the two main actresses and they do the best they can with roles that feel underwritten and a bit uneven. Pugh is always terrific and brings her dark magnificent energy to bear here. Blunt at first feels out of sorts in her role as Oppenheimer’s wife, but she finds her stride in the last third of the film and nails one critical scene when it matters most.

The only performances I thought were notably underwhelming were Benny Safdie as Edward Teller and Rami Malek as David Hill. Both seem out of place and rather awkward in their roles.

On the bright side, it seems definite that Cillian Murphy will be nominated for Best Actor and will probably be the odds-on favorite to win. Downey Jr. will also likely be nominated for Best Supporting Actor.

The film is beautifully photographed by cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema, who himself could be staring at a second Oscar nomination (his first was for Nolan’s 2017 film Dunkirk). Hoytema’s framing, close-ups in particular, are exquisite, as is his use of color and contrast.

The soundtrack by Ludwig Goransson is also very effective and well-done. It skillfully but subtly enhances the drama of the film without over-imposing itself and feeling manipulative.

As good as the cinematography and music were, the editing by Jennifer Lame really stands out. The film jumps back and forth in time and yet never loses coherence thanks to Lame’s deft and skillful work.

It is always difficult to discern any sort of political or cultural meaning from Nolan’s films, but they seem much more apparent than usual in Oppenheimer, at least to me. Of course, one must be self-aware enough to know that they may be projecting their own ideological perspective onto a film rather than discovering the director’s intent.

For example, after Nolan’s superhero masterpiece The Dark Knight came out in 2008 there was lots of talk among members of the George W. Bush torture and death-cult that the film was about Bush as Batman being scapegoated for what he has to do to defeat the Joker/Bin Laden, the ultimate terrorist agent of chaos. I never found that argument compelling and always thought it had more to do with the guilty conscience and vacuous ideology of its adherents rather than with Nolan’s intended sub-text.

The same may be true of my reading on Oppenheimer, which seems to me to be a movie that speaks to much of our current era’s issues. For instance, Oppenheimer is persecuted for speaking out against establishment orthodoxy and for holding views deemed to be dangerous. That seems to be very relevant to our current times where wrong-think is a cultural crime as has been well documented here and elsewhere.

Oppenheimer is also a stark reminder of the destructive power and nature of human beings, and how serious that subject is but how we often take it much too lightly.

For example, we have both liberals and conservatives in this country hell bent on escalating the proxy war in Ukraine up to and including to the point of direct conflict with Russia, a nuclear armed state, in order to desperately cling to our self-delusional empire. Oppenheimer eventually came to understand the power he unleashed by building an atomic bomb, but somehow our modern culture has forgotten the earth destroying ability it possesses and feels so comfortable toying with.

And finally, one can’t help but think of Artificial Intelligence while watching Oppenheimer. AI is a great achievement for scientists but like the team at Los Alamos that unleashed the destructive power of the gods onto humans, the unintended and long-term consequences of AI seem to be a moral and ethical minefield for which its creators never seriously prepared or even remotely considered. The impending, and most likely inevitable, dire consequences of artificial intelligence feel all the more chilling when considered in the context of the moral dilemma and outcome of Oppenheimer.

Whether the film is actually about those things or I am just projecting my own fears and ideologies on to it, is ultimately irrelevant, as the film stands on its cinematic artistry alone regardless of its deeper or wider meaning.

The thing that stood out to me the most regarding Oppenheimer was just the fact that it exists and that regular people are interested in seeing it.

For decades the art of cinema has been in steep decline and in recent years the business of movies has followed suit. For the entirety of this century Hollywood has been training audiences to watch nothing but dumbed down bullshit and to instinctively yearn for mindless entertainment. Oppenheimer is counter to that. To be clear, this film isn’t highbrow or arthouse, but it is definitely elevated, adult, populist moviemaking, storytelling and entertainment.

I doubt this will turn the tide of franchise excrement coming from Hollywood, but it is a sliver of hope. In the sea of shit that has been movies over the last four years, original, mature stories from auteurs have been few and far between and even the ones that did come out were among the lesser of the director’s filmography. But with Oppenheimer we have Christopher Nolan, one of the more successful directors in recent Hollywood history, putting out an original, adult-targeted film, and one of his very best films, when all hope seemed lost in the industry for this sort of thing.

Audiences are desperately hungry for quality films that are made for grown-ups…and with Oppenheimer Christopher Nolan has delivered. I, for one, am grateful.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 103 - Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

On this episode Barry and I go on an archeological dig to try and discover why Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny was such a flop...and we find a treasure trove of answers. Topics discussed include Phoebe Waller-Bridge and the fool's gold of Fleabag, the cornucopia of abysmal supporting performances in this disappointing movie, and the storytelling power of science vs religion.

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 103 - Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny: A Review - Dial D for Dull

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

Popcorn Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. If you’re desperate to be an Indiana Jones completist, wait until this underwhelming movie hits Disney + to watch it.

The Indiana Jones franchise gloriously burst onto the scene with 1981’s Raiders of the Lost Ark, a deliriously entertaining throwback to early Hollywood action-adventure serial cliffhangers that was perfectly directed by Steven Spielberg and created/produced by George Lucas, which became a massive blockbuster and captured the culture’s imagination.

Raiders made Harrison Ford, who was already an enormous star for his turn as the charming rogue Han Solo in the Star Wars movies, a megastar for his portrayal of the swashbuckling, Nazi-punching archeologist Indiana Jones.

Now, forty years and four films later, Harrison Ford is back once again in the iconic title role in the new film Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, which is the fifth, and maybe, probably, hopefully, the last film in the franchise.

The Dial of Destiny is the first Indiana Jones film to not be directed by Steven Spielberg. This time James Mangold (Ford v Ferrari, Logan) is at the helm and joining Ford in the cast are Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Antonio Banderas, Boyd Holbrook, Mads Mikkelsen and Toby Jones.

The film tells the story of the incomparable Indiana Jones as he struggles to make his way in the modern world of 1969 as a retiring professor of archeology. His retirement plans get scattered to the wind when his goddaughter Helena shows up talking about an ancient relic called the dial of destiny…and so the adventure begins.

The Indiana Jones film series has, with one notable exception, been a case of diminishing returns as the franchise went along. Raiders was impeccable entertainment, but its sequel, 1984’s The Temple of Doom, was a major drop off from its predecessor. Thankfully 1989’s The Last Crusade, which featured a supporting turn by Sean Connery, got things back on track as it was nearly an equal to Raiders. Then fans had to wait 19 years for the next Indiana Jones movie, and that was 2008’s The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull…it was not worth the wait.

I had never seen Kingdom of the Crystal Skull but to prepare for Dial of Destiny I watched it and came away thinking that while the first act was fine, the second act was pretty bad and the third act was unconscionably awful.

As bad as The Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was, and it really was bad as it was riddled with the most basic filmmaking and storytelling errors, believe it or not, it is still better than The Dial of Destiny.

I saw The Dial of Destiny a day ago and I cannot, for the life of me, remember a single frame from the film. While my cognitive decline may be partially responsible for that lack of recall, it isn’t totally to blame as the movie itself shoulders the majority of it.

The biggest problem with The Dial of Destiny, and it is riddled with a cavalcade of problems, is that it’s shockingly, unforgivably dull. The dial of dullness was turned up to 11 on this movie.

Why Ford, who is now 80 years-old, would dust off Indy’s signature fedora and bullwhip for this insipid script and lackluster movie, is beyond me. It’s not like he needs the money.

Indiana Jones has always had a partner in these movies, be it romantic or familial. In Raiders there was Karen Allen’s spectacular spitfire Marion. In Temple of Doom it was the awful Kate Capshaw as singer/actress Willie. In Last Crusade, of course, it was Sean Connery as Indy’s dad Henry. In Kingdom of the Crystal Skull it was Shia LeBeouf as Indy’s son, Mutt. And now in Dial of Destiny it is Phoebe Waller-Bridge as Helena Shaw, Indy’s Goddaughter.

As terrible as Kate Capshaw and Shia LeBeouf are in their Indy supporting roles, Waller-Bridge is, astonishingly, even worse.

Waller-Bridge is best known for her award-winning performance in the tv series Fleabag, which she also wrote. I absolutely loved Fleabag and Waller-Bridge in it. I thought she was utterly phenomenal as the self-destructive, self-sabotaging lead in the series.

But in Dial of Destiny, Waller-Bridge, who has not done much if any acting work since Fleabag, is exposed for simply not being ready for prime time. Her quirkiness was extremely appealing on the small screen in Fleabag, but on the big screen she is revealed as being a charisma-free, small, rather poor actress.

Waller-Bridge is remarkably wooden, if not leaden, in the film. As a comedic presence she is underwhelming, annoying and decidedly unfunny. As a physical actress she is uncomfortable, ungainly, ungraceful and unathletic, four things that individually are difficult to deal with in an action movie, but in unison are impossible to overcome.

Casting Waller-Bridge, who is, frankly, physically unattractive, and who runs like a baby giraffe with rickets and a club foot, as a co-lead in an action-adventure film next to a crumbling 80-year-old man, is so egregious as to be criminal.

At least with 80-year-old Harrison Ford they de-age him for the first part of the film so we don’t have to watch his decrepit body creak and ache for the full, and excruciatingly long, two hours and thirty-four-minute run time. Unfortunately for Waller-Bridge, and us, no technology exists that can alter her awkward, grating presence and unappealing appearance in this movie.

As for Ford, the truth is he has never been a particularly good actor. He’s certainly a very charming screen presence, but he’s always been pretty limited in what he’s able to do acting-wise. If you watch him in Kingdom of the Crystal Skull he’s actually egregiously bad, but in Dial of Destiny he has some brief moments.

For example, when Indy dutifully recites some exposition about why Mutt (his son from Kingdom of the Crystal Skull) isn’t in this movie, it is actually quite moving…and is the most emotionally packed sequence in any Indiana Jones film and maybe in Ford’s career.

Unfortunately, that is the only moment in the entire film that has any life to it. The rest of it is generic action after generic action all riddled with derivative dialogue around a pointless plot.

Speaking of generic, the bad guys in this movie, Nazi scientist Jurgen Voller (Mads Mikkelsen) and Klaber (Boyd Holbrooke), are such cardboard cutouts I’m surprised they didn’t blow away in the wind. I like both Mikkelsen and Holbrooke but these bad guys have no depth or direction to them. Klaber in particular is totally incomprehensible and incoherent.

Another absurd character is Mason, a black, female CIA agent, poorly played by Shaunette Renee Wilson. Mason is a sassy CIA agent with a heart of gold and a strong moral compass. How realistic. That Wilson is unable to bring any life or depth to the character only adds to that undeniable sinking feeling whenever she’s on-screen.

In a recent article Wilson described how she got her character’s dramatic exit from the story changed because she thought it had offensive language in it and was unduly harsh. The ending that ultimately ended up on-screen is so banal as to be ridiculous so…congrats to Ms. Wilson?

It is also amusing that Ms. Wilson was offended by some language spoken to her character in her original final scene, which no doubt was racially tinged considering the scenes are set in 1969 and her opponent is the Nazi henchmen Klaber, but she felt completely comfortable using the term “cracker” on-screen. Apparently, what is good for the goose is most definitely not also good for the gander.

That James Mangold agreed to Ms. Wilson’s changing of the script speaks to not only his spineless and sackless nature but also his complete lack of understanding about drama. Kluber would’ve been a more compelling, interesting and comprehensible character if we could’ve seen his visceral hatred of Mason in the actual movie. But it was “offensive” so we have to deter to a no-name, third rate actress’s feelings instead. Good grief.

Speaking of Mangold, who I thought did fantastic work on both Logan and Ford v Ferrari, he brings nothing to the table on Dial of Destiny. The film isn’t even a cheap knock-off of Spielberg, which Spielberg himself already did on Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, it’s just an overly long exercise in bad decisions.

For example, why does Mangold shoot an underwater scene which is impossible to see and dramatically nonsensical? Why does he shoot so much at night, which results in bland visuals with no sharp contrast? These decisions, along with the decision to cast Waller-Bridge and Shaunette Renee Wilson, are inexplicable, and they are an albatross around the movie’s neck. And don’t even get me started on the character Teddy (Ethann Isidore), who is like Short Round (from Temple of Doom) but worse, believe it or not. Yikes.

Another enormous problem with Dial of Destiny is that its story undermines what made both Raiders and Last Crusade so archetypally compelling, namely, it eschews the magic and mysticism of religion in favor of “science”.

The plot of Dial of Destiny revolves around the Antikythera, a time travel device built by Greek mathematician Archimedes. There is nothing mystical about this device, it is supposed to be based on actual science.

Indiana Jones is himself a scientist, which is why his grappling with the magical religious powers of the Ark of the Covenant and the Holy Grail, in Raiders and Last Crusade respectively, is so captivating and compelling.

When Indy is faced with dubious science, as in Crystal Skull and Dial of Destiny, it works at cross-purposes with the character’s archetype and mythology. In other words, it disengages the audience on an unconscious level, thus neutering the story and its dramatic power.

The Lance of Longinus or Holy Lance, which was used to pierce Christ’s side at the crucifixion, is a relic that is momentarily presented on-screen in the movie but then narratively disposed of in favor of Archimedes’ dial of destiny.

It seems to me that the Holy Lance was a better option to use as a narrative device in this film. It could have been presented as a way for the aging Indy to find both redemption and forgiveness for whatever sins he may be burdened with…like the ones regarding his son and ex-wife. And it could also have been a weapon of great power used by the usual suspects, the Nazis, to take over the world.

But instead, we get the rather flaccid dial of destiny, which Indy doesn’t even use to reverse the errors he’s made in his personal life, but only a really lame final act involving Archimedes himself that feels like a bad attraction at a second-rate amusement park. Sigh.

If I had the dial of destiny in my possession I would travel back in time and erase all of the Indiana Jones movies except for Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Last Crusade. I would also make sure the diabolical producer from Lucasfilm, Kathleen Kennedy, was never born, thus saving both the Star Wars and Indiana Jones franchises from her malignantly evil grasp. I have no doubt that I would be received as a great hero to all people with good taste.

Oh, to dream.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Succession (HBO): Final Season Review - All's Well That Ends Well...Enough

****THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS SOME SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!! THIS IS NOT A SPOILER FREE ARTICLE!!****

Season 4 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Overall Series Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: WATCH IT. Great acting and great writing make for some great TV.

Succession is dead. Long live Succession.

The HBO prestige drama about the dysfunctional Roy family and its mega-media empire had its season four and series finale last night.

For its four seasons Succession has been a glorious dramatic feast served in an era where both film and television have consistently fed us mostly middling, mind-numbing, middlebrow mush.

Watching patriarch Logan (Brian Cox) and his ne’er-do-well offspring Kendall, Shiv and Roman run roughshod over America and its culture was insidiously entertaining but also bone chilling because of its unnerving similarity to the real-world.

The Roys are part Murdoch (Fox), part Redstone (Viacom/CBS/Paramount), part Cox (Cox Communications) and part Roberts (Comcast), and like them all, entirely awful.

Despite being a toxic brew of capitalism porn and media mogul soap opera, Succession never failed to be a joy to behold and the reason for that is two-fold.

First, the acting was superb across the board. Secondly, the dialogue brought to life by these actors was razor sharp and never failed to be anything but modern-day Shakespeare.

That all said, season four was the weakest of the Succession seasons. It wasn’t terrible at all, in fact, it featured the greatest episode not only of the series (episode 3) but of any series in recent memory. But it felt like season four was less dramatically and narratively crisp as the seasons that preceded it.

Part of the issue with season four was that it didn’t earn much of the drama it tried to use. For example, the political election storyline felt trite and shallow because the stakes of the election were not sufficiently developed, and then when they were upon us felt artificially heightened…much like our own real elections.

The same was true for the climax of the finale. Without giving too much away, there is a confrontation between the siblings at a crucial moment that rang surprisingly hollow and underwhelming because it just seemed forced and manufactured, which is not something that happened throughout the run of the series.

This crucial confrontation needed more lead time in order to be more developed and more believable. Unfortunately, the lack of believability around this confrontation undercut the dramatic momentum of the episode, season and series.

Season four was also hamstrung by killing off its most compelling character, Logan, early in the season. Logan was the center of the Succession universe and while it was amusing watching the Roy children try and fill the gaping void left in his absence, it was never quite as profound as when Logan was sitting atop the throne.

Speaking of King Lear…oops…I mean Logan, Brian Cox was absolutely phenomenal in this series. Cox’s Shakespearean speechifying was as good as it gets and has ever gotten in television. Cox’s Logan was a combustible and curmudgeonly king and we should all bow down to his combativeness.

Kieran Culkin as Roman Roy was also spectacular. Watching Roman go full Fredo…and you never go full Fredo, in the final season was extraordinary. Culkin’s ability to bring Roman’s self-loathing and searing, rapier wit to life with such skill and verve was among the show’s highlights.

Sarah Snook’s oh so human, desperate and transparently wounded Shiv was a consistent pleasure to watch as she was Lady MacBeth, Goneril and Gertrude (Hamlet’s mother) all rolled in to one.

Jeremy Strong was outstanding as Kendall, the broken boy who would be king but can’t get out of his own way. Strong’s unrelenting commitment to the vacuous and vacant Kendall was impressive.

In season four, Alexander Skarsgard was exquisite as Swedish tech guru Lukas Mattson. Skarsgard was so great in season four as the GoJo CEO he basically took over the show with his quirky, nerd guy darkness.

But of all the great actors on Succession, nobody tops Matthew Macfadyen who played Shiv’s pain sponge, sycophant husband Tom Wambsgans. Tom reeked of shameless ambition and sweaty desperation but never succumbed to self-pity, only to self-interest.

Tom’s whipping boy, cousin Greg, played by Nicholas Braun, yearned to be part of the amoral and incompetent Roy sibling “quad” and would do anything to make it happen or to make anything happen for himself. Braun was outstanding as he stole scenes and episodes with his priceless line readings and his character’s insecure maneuvering and backdoor bravado.

I suppose the reason why, despite its faults and despite having watched the finale on the new, annoyingly glitchy, streaming service Max (fuck you, Max!), I liked Succession so much was that it accurately spoke to our current time and current predicament.  

Watching a Shakespearean-esque dramatization of the ruling elite and ownership class of America, filled with an endless supply of second and third-rate fucktard, mid-wit nepo-babies devoid of balls but ravenous for power, who surround themselves with sycophantic psychopaths whose only ambition is to hold onto their own tiny, Mordor adjacent fiefdoms, was as entertaining as it was unnerving because this is exactly how empires, like America, fail and fall.

For instance, anyone who is even remotely aware can see that America’s ruling class are a decidedly spent force. For God’s sake we are on our way to having another election between fourth-rate, incompetent shitstains Joe Biden and Donald Trump. In a country of over 350 million people, it is impossible that we must choose between a compulsively lying, narcissistic, dementia-addled, pedophile politician and a bloated, incoherent, shameless, compulsively lying, nepo-brat, failure.

Of course, the truth is we only have a choice between these two asshats because we don’t actually have any choice…only the illusion of choice. Succession makes it clear that the decision between who rules and who is ruled is not a decision at all…it’s simply theatre, meant to entertain and distract while the Logan Roys and Lukas Mattsons – the ruling elites of the world, sit on high and pull all the strings.

It was great fun while it lasted, but Succession, like America’s global empire and the dollar’s dominance, is over…and frankly…it needed to be over. Succession needed to end because it ran out of runway for its drama and the American empire needed to end because it, like all empires before it, has grown much too decadent and depraved whilst wearing the crown to survive.

America will no doubt deeply miss its empirical power when it’s gone because if Succession has taught us anything it’s that while being in power is a cold, barren, miserable, sterile, lonely, painful existence, life without power is much, much worse.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Adventures in Idiocy - Thoughts on Dylan Mulvaney, Max and Monty Python

PUTRID PANTHER PISS

Yet another front in the never-ending culture war was opened in early April of this year when Bud Light decided to hire “transgender influencer” Dylan Mulvaney to be a “spokesperson” for their shitty beer brand.

To celebrate Mulvaney’s year anniversary of his “days of girlhood” Tik Tok series – which documented the travails of his first year of “girlhood” - which miraculously included the pain of menstrual cramps (or in this case minstrel cramps) despite his not having a uterus, Bud Light put his ridiculous face on beer cans.

The reaction from Bud Light drinkers to having trans Tinkerbell Dylan Mulvaney thrust upon them was entirely predictable to everyone with half a brain in their head, which obviously excludes the decision makers at Bud Light.

The people who drink Bud Light, or used to drink Bud Light, are mostly men, mostly working class and all have bad taste. Like most men, they have no interest in Dylan Mulvaney, trans issues, or the culture war. They just want to be left alone to drink beer, hang out with buddies and watch sports while they wait to for their life to come to an end.

Bud Light used to be the beer they’d consider drinking – I don’t drink but only God knows why anyone would drink that putrid panther piss…but to each his own, but now Bud Light is definitely off the table. The reason for this is simple…men love to bust each other’s balls…and now any guy drinking Bud Light gives his buddies endless ammunition to bust his balls into oblivion.

A guy brings Bud Light to a party or orders one at the bar and he will be serenaded with a cavalcade of humorously vicious insults questioning his sexuality, his gender and the state of his genitals. You may think that is cruel or barbaric or transphobic, but no one gives a flying fuck because it is, above all else, undeniably true.

The sales for Bud Light since Mulvaney became their spokesperson prove that the brand is now toxic among its core customers. For nearly two months since this all began Bud Light sales have plummeted in comparison to last year’s weekly sales averages…consistently down between 25% and 30% a week.

And this drop in sales is not going to just disappear because the stink left on the Bud Light brand from Mulvaney’s odious presence is going to last for a long time. Once a brand becomes a punchline it is nearly impossible to reverse.

What is baffling to me is how could the suits at Bud Light be so ignorant of their target audience and so blind to cultural reality? To say this is corporate malfeasance is a massive understatement.

As for Dylan Mulvaney, he is an adult and should do as he pleases with his own body…his transgenderism is his business (literally and figuratively), I just wish he wouldn’t be so craven as exploit himself or allow himself to be exploited by corporate entities…but unfortunately it seems the mentally ill Mulvaney is more interested in attention than anything else.

Mulvaney was what we call a theatre muffin (musical theatre actor) prior to becoming an “influencer”. Disingenuous, narcissistic, hyper-performative, annoyingly flamboyant gay men like Dylan Mulvaney are a dime a dozen in the theatre world. So Mulvaney seems to have decided to distinguish himself from the glamour boy hoi polloi by dressing up like a woman and saying he was trans. How clever.

His plan has worked remarkably well, as he’s made tons of money, gotten famous and even went to the Oval Office to talk to President Biden about Women’s issues…yes…you read that right….a man went to the White House as an expert on Women’s issues. Ultimately, Mulvaney strikes me as a rather repugnant culture war creature who during his shameless drive for fame has done more to denigrate women in the past year than most any other public figure.

One can only hope that Bud Light, Dylan Mulvaney and the shitheads at Anheuser-Busch all disappear and right quick because the world desperately needs none of them.

As for Bud Light, it has successfully destroyed decades of branding and is now radioactive amongst its core customers. Congratulations…there is no coming back from that.

MAX

Speaking of corporate marketing malfeasance, the geniuses over at the corporate behemoth Warner Bros. Discovery unveiled their new streaming service this week and it stands as a monument to their moronity.

Warner Bros. Discovery owns the streaming services HBO Max and Discovery +. HBO Max is of course known for its prestige TV shows, like The Sopranos, The Wire, Game of Thrones and Succession, and for its deep library of films, which include the Harry Potter, DC Comics I.P. as well as Turner Movie Classics and a bevy of other great films.

Discovery + is known for its reality TV empire which includes all the shows from Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, TLC, HGTV, Food Network, Travel, Investigation Discovery and CNN.

The suits at Warner Bros. Discovery, led by their brainless and toothless shark of a CEO, David Zaslav, decided to combine these two streaming services into one giant streaming service.

When naming the new streaming service, they decided to forego the well-established, prestige brand of HBO which has been arduously built over the lasty forty years. And they also decided to ignore the less prestigious but still very recognizable brand of Discovery.

Instead Zaslov and co. decided to name their big new streaming service…MAX.

The first thing that comes to mind with the name MAX is the low rent cable channel Cinemax, which is derogatorily called Skinemax because of its penchant for showing soft core porn in the wee hours of the night.

The second thing that comes to mind is MAXipad…or maybe MAXimum-security prison…or maybe for those old to remember, MAX Headroom.

HBO has become such a strong brand associated with prestige over the last 40 years that even when its shows aren’t that great, they are treated with great respect by the culture. For example, 2021’s Mare of Easttown starring Kate Winslet was shit, but the media and audiences treated it like some great work of art simply because it was on HBO.

And that’s the thing…HBO signaled prestige to both viewers AND talent…which is why great actors, writers and directors would be willing to make the jump to TV only if it was HBO.

Now with MAX…not so prestigious. Now if you’re a movie star you think twice before doing a series there because it’ll be lumped in with 90 Day Fiance and Dr. Pimple Popper.

That Warner Bros. Discovery could fuck up the naming of their gigantic streaming service this badly should be shocking…but it isn’t. Zaslav and his predecessors have been able to fuck up lots of things – like their DC films, over the years.

It should also come as no surprise that Warner Bros Discovery completely fucked up the actual Max streaming site. HBO Max was the easily best streaming service site to navigate and it wasn’t even close. It had easy to access hubs to all of the valuable sections of their library like Turner Classics, DC and Studio Ghibli which made navigation a breeze. The new Max site has idiotically eliminated that glorious convenience and replaced it with a haphazard, shit-thrown-against-the-wall incoherence that is frustrating, irritating and aggravating.

The Max site is a jumbled, muddled mess. It doesn’t even have a hub solely dedicated to the Discovery material which means, much like every other useless streaming service site, browsing is fruitless and you can’t really find anything unless you specifically type it into the search bar. Moronic. I hate it so much and I hate that the ease and perfection of HBO Max is gone.

The bottom-line is don’t be surprised if Warner Bros Discovery renames MAX (and hopefully does a full reboot and rebuild) in the next 3 years…and don’t be surprised if incompetent jackass Zaslav is out of a job…and don’t’ be surprised if the company sells off major portions of its entertainment business either.

THE LIFE OF BRIAN…AND LORETTA

And finally…three years ago this July I wrote a verbosely titled article “The Monty Python Classic 'The Life of Brian' Relentlessly Mocked Christianity Forty Years Ago, Comedy Needs to Do the Same Thing to the Church of Wokeness Today” in which I celebrated the film The Life of Brian for having transformed from being banned for blasphemy upon its release to being rated as acceptable for kids today.

I also praised the film for having masterfully mocking the old religion, Christianity, and for having the foresight to eviscerate the new religion, transgenderism, too, forty years ahead of time.

The mocking of the new woke religion occurs in a scene set in the coliseum of Jerusalem where the People’s Front of Judea meet to discuss their goals. One of the members, Stan – played by Eric Idle, declares he wants to be a woman and that it is his right as a man to have people call him Loretta.

Here is the scene which is absolutely, astonishingly brilliant from start to finish.

When Stan keeps interjecting feminine pronouns into the proposed language…he is asked by Francis why he keeps bringing up women?

Stan -  “I want to be one….I want to be a woman….from now on I want you all to call me Loretta…It’s my right as a man.”

Judith – “Why would you want to be Loretta, Stan?

Stan – “I want to have babies…It’s every man’s right to have babies if he wants.”

Reg - “You can’t have babies!”

Stan - “Don’t oppress me!”

Reg - “I’m not oppressing you Stan, you haven’t got a womb! Where’s the fetus gonna gestate? You gonna keep it in a box?”

After some hemming and hawing, Francis chimes in with a solution.

Francis (to Stan) - “We shall fight our oppressors for your right to have a baby, brother…ooops…sister, sorry.”

Reg - “What’s the point of fighting for his right to have babies if he can’t have babies?”

Francis – “It’s symbolic of our struggle against oppression!”

Reg – “It’s symbolic of his struggle against reality.”

I wrote of the film and this scene that,

“The Office, Community, 30 Rock, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Scrubs and Fawlty Towers, among others, have all had episodes scrubbed from streaming services for their past politically incorrect sins. Let us pray to our Lord and Savior Brian and his Sacred Shoe and Holy Gourd, that Monty Python’s glorious canon is not next on the cancel culture crucifixion list.”

Well…just today I saw that John Cleese, one of the founding members of Monty Python, is staging a theatrical production of The Life of Brian, and he is being forced to cut the “Loretta” scene from the show.

Cleese said of the Loretta scene being cut,

“So here you have something there's never been a complaint about in 40 years, that I've heard of, and now all of a sudden we can't do it because it'll offend people. What is one supposed to make of that? But I think there were a lot of things that were actually, in some strange way, predictive of what was actually going to happen later."

Yes, Cleese and co. predicted the absurdity of transgenderism forty years before it became a state religion, and I predicted the knives of the Cancel Culture Centurions and Tiny Twitter Torquemadas coming out for the The Life of Brian three years before it happened. Prophets both of us.

As the good book says (Mark 6:4), “no prophet is without honor except in his native place, among his own kindred, relatives and in his own house.”

And that is why my prescient Monty Python article, and most everything else I’ve written, could only be widely published at a Russian media outlet RT.com, and not here in the U.S. of A. where the Truth is anathema and people only want to read things that comfort, rather than confront, their vapid, vacuous and vacant belief systems built on disinformation, misinformation, propaganda and emotionalism. It's also why my wife left me, my dog bit me and my family disowned me.

As for Bud Light, MAX and Monty Python, these stories of misjudgments and massive failures are all just symptoms of a depraved decadence brought about by the broader disease of an empire in rapid decline.

Think this is bad? Trust me…things are going to get much, much worse…just watch and see.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Champions: A Review & Impassioned Commentary

IF YOU LIKE DIATRIBES ABOUT THE DEHUMANIZATION OF THE INTELLECTUALLY DISABLED, BLACK LIVES MATTER, POLICE BRUTALITY AND ABORTION IN REVIEWS OF MINDLESS FILM COMEDIES…THEN THIS ARTICLE IS DEFINITELY FOR YOU!

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A mind-numbingly pedestrian affair that is devoid of genuine laughs and feels uncomfortably exploitative.

Champions, starring Woody Harrelson, is a sports comedy that tells the story of a disgraced minor league basketball coach who does his court ordered community service as the coach of a team of intellectually disabled basketball players.

The film, directed by Bobby Farrelly of the famed Farrelly brothers (There’s Something About Mary, Dumb and Dumber, Kingpin) in his first solo outing, hit theatres mid-March and is now available on the Peacock streaming service.

Champions, which is a remake of the 2018 Spanish film of the same name, is a bit of a befuddling movie. It is ostensibly meant to be a redemption story for Harrelson’s character, coach Marcus Marokovich, but he never actually redeems himself because he never reveals himself to be so much of a deplorable as to need redeeming.

Sure, Marokovich initially embarrasses himself during a minor league basketball game and it becomes a humiliating moment heightened in our endlessly nasty media culture, but he never seems like a bad guy, just like a guy having a bad day. So Marokovich doesn’t have far to travel on his journey to redemption and thus the story doesn’t go anywhere or mean very much.

To be fair, there is a sort of love story mixed into the mess involving the always charming Kaitlin Olsen as Alex, a sister of one of the intellectually disabled basketball players on Marokovich’s team, but that is more a redemption story for Alex, not for Marokovich.

Part of the problem from the get-go is that Woody Harrelson is simply a very nice guy and has nice guy energy on-screen for the full two-hours. I also assume that this is why Harrelson, due to his niceness, didn’t bring more abrasive energy to his character’s initial interaction with the intellectually disabled basketball players. Yes, there’s a brief moment prior to meeting them where he almost uses the “R-word” (retard) but even then he catches himself because Marokovich/Harrelson is a nice, sensitive person. That’s a great way to be in life but not so great when trying to generate a worthwhile character arc, drama or even laughs.

Speaking of which, the intellectually disabled players in the movie are notably played by actors with intellectual disabilities. My feelings on this are decidedly mixed.

First off, it’s great that intellectually disabled actors are getting work, as I assume that isn’t the easiest thing to do due to the nature of typecasting. Secondly, these actors all do their job well without exception, most notably Kevin Iannucci as Johnny, Joshua Felder as Darius, and Madison Tevlin as Cosentino.

That said, regardless of whatever good intentions may have been present, there is a part of me that feels this movie is exploiting these intellectually disabled actors. My reason for feeling this way is that none of the characters they portray are anything but props, used to generate some cheap laughs or even cheaper sentimentality. The audience is never expected to relate to the intellectually disabled characters, only in how the “normal” characters navigate those who are intellectually disabled.

For example, we never spend a single second alone with any of the intellectually disabled characters. We never get a glimpse of their inner lives, their hopes, their dreams or their fears and they are only identifiable by their unique disabilities and how they “hilariously” manifest.

The intellectually disabled players are all broad stereotypes. There’s the one guy who talks endlessly about all the sex he has…which is supposed to be funny because he’s intellectually disabled. Then there’s the bossy diva girl who is bossy and a diva and it’s supposed to be funny because she’s intellectually disabled. Then there’s the guy who only shoots with his back to the basket which is supposed to be funny because he’s intellectually disabled…and on and on and on.

The Farrelly’s have done this type of thing with intellectually disabled people throughout their filmmaking careers, and to be clear I have no doubt that it is at least in part motivated by good intentions, but that doesn‘t mean that it can’t be uncomfortably exploitative.

The reason it all feels so exploitative is because we are solely meant to either pity these characters or laugh at them. They aren’t real people because they aren’t designed to be real people, they’re only designed to be pets to their intellectually-abled creators.

There’s also an incredibly uncomfortable shadow looming over this self-congratulatory exercise regarding the intellectually disabled that becomes painfully obvious if you look for it. Namely that the denizens of Hollywood who would cheer this movie’s diversity and inclusion also overwhelmingly believe that its cast not only could have, but should have, been aborted prior to birth.

This is not to argue in favor or against abortion, just to point out that 67% of pregnancies diagnosed with Down’s Syndrome are aborted. In Europe the number is even higher at 90%. Abortion as a treatment for Down’s Syndrome pregnancies is so rampant that the medical establishment doesn’t just expect it, they almost demand it.

The argument for why Down’s Syndrome babies should be aborted is made painfully clear whenever debated, namely that it is an alleged act of mercy to eliminate a Down’s Syndrome pregnancy because life with Down’s Syndrome is so difficult. It is no doubt true that life with Down’s Syndrome is more difficult, for not only the sufferer but for those that care for them, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a worthwhile life filled with meaning and purpose for all involved.

That Champions fails to see the intellectually disabled as anything other than props or pets to “normal” people fuels the notion that the lives of the intellectually disabled are somehow beneath us and not worthy of serious consideration.

In 2013, I wrote an article about Ethan Saylor, a young man with Down’s Syndrome who was killed by Maryland police in January of 2013. Ethan’s crime was that, being a big fan of the police and military, he went to see the movie Zero Dark Thirty. He liked the movie so much he didn’t want to leave the theatre when it ended and didn’t understand he needed to buy another ticket for a second screening. The police were called and they tackled him to the ground and kneeled on his back and neck until he died.

Ethan Saylor’s killers were never charged with any crime. They were never paraded across the front pages of America’s newspapers or television screens and chastised for their depraved inhumanity. Instead, they simply went on living their lives, just like the rest of the country, as if Ethan Saylor had never existed.

When George Floyd was murdered in 2020 by Minnesota police in much the same way Ethan Saylor was murdered by Maryland police in 2013, amidst all the ensuing media coverage of the “mostly-peaceful” riots and protests, I kept hearing the refrain that “all lives can’t matter until black lives matter!”

I believe that all lives can’t matter until black lives matter, and I also believe that black lives can’t matter until Ethan Saylor’s life matters and until all intellectually disabled people’s lives matter in utero and out. The fact that the media, your government and, frankly, most of you – who either have a blue lives matter or black lives matter signs in your window, have never said a word of protest, or given a single flying fuck about Ethan Saylor and people like him, says everything about this country and the demonic depravity at the absolute heart of it.

Ethan Saylor’s life mattered. Intellectually disabled people’s lives matter…BEFORE and after their birth. Until we as a nation and a culture come to not only understand but embrace this unnecessarily radical notion, we will fail to be anything more than a demented, decadent, depraved and diabolical Fourth Reich.

As for Champions, despite the misguided good intentions of everyone involved, deep in its DNA it retains an insidious superiority complex regarding intellectually disabled people. That this pity-inducing superiority complex is so ingrained in our country and culture means that most people won’t even notice it. What they will notice though is that this instantly forgettable movie, regardless of its notions about the intellectually disabled, isn’t funny, interesting or remotely entertaining.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

 ©2023

The Mandalorian - Season Three Review: This is NOT the Way

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!****

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A major disappointing season from this once terrific series.

Season one (2019) and two (2020) of The Mandalorian were as good as it gets in terms of Star Wars storytelling. So much so that a dear friend of mine, the biggest Star Wars fan I know, once waxed poetically to me about how the series’ creator Jon Favreau was the savior of the Star Wars franchise.

Whether you believe that about Favreau or not, the truth is that The Mandalorian undoubtedly set the bar very high for the bevy of Star Wars series that came in its wake. Unfortunately, the majority of them have failed to live up to the standard.

For example, the alarmingly awful The Book of Boba Fett and Obi Wan Kenobi fell shamefully short of The Mandalorian’s high standards. Things were so bleak at Mickey Mouse’s money-making machine after the back-to-back egregious embarrassments of Boba Fett and Obi Wan, Disney’s Star Wars television ventures seemed on the precipice of annihilation like Alderaan on the wrong end of a Death Star blast.

Then the top-notch Andor arrived on the scene. Andor was able to equal, and in some ways exceed, season one and two of The Mandalorian’s high storytelling standards and Disney once again felt like the had righted the good ship Star Wars.

But now the roller coaster continues with season three of The Mandalorian, whose eight episodes concluded on Wednesday, which scuttled all the creative and artistic momentum of its previous two stellar seasons and of the superb Andor.  

Unfortunately, season three of The Mandalorian feels more like an extension of the sub-par work of The Book of Boba Fett and Obi Wan Kenobi than a continuation of the excellence of seasons one and two of The Mandalorian.

Season three is an exceedingly frustrating, irritating, incoherent, dull, lore-desecrating exercise that besmirches the once mighty legacy of The Mandalorian brand, reducing it to just another Star Wars piece of junk in a galaxy quickly filling up with Star Wars junk.

The storyline of season three lacks immediacy and consistency, and instead feels like writers/producers trying to sell Star Wars toys while they kill time waiting for other series, most likely the forthcoming Ahsoka, to carry the Star Wars narrative load.

The (spoiler-free) loose premise of the season is that Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal) and his de facto adopted son Grogu – aka Baby Yoda, join with Bo-Katan Kryze (Katee Sakchoff) to try and return to Mandalore.

The premise never compels, and the villain (I won’t say who it is to avoid spoilers), once revealed, feels like a creative cul-de-sac that is repetitive and redundant and redundantly repetitive.

The series featured the worst episode (episode six – which contains cameos by Lizzo and Jack Black – God help us!!) in the history of Star Wars tv which is an astonishing accomplishment considering the staggering level of incompetence of The Book of Boba Fett and Obi Wan Kenobi.

The season finale, while not a great finale, was an action-packed episode and was, to a point, entertaining, but it didn’t elevate the series or make it make sense.

As much as I enjoyed some of the action at times in the finale it was also ridiculous to the point of shameful, and it stretched Star Wars lore and the established rules of the series and the Star Wars universe beyond recognition.

For example, earlier in the season Mandalorians chasing a giant monster had to stop because their jet packs ran out of fuel after roughly a half mile. But in the finale, Mandalorians were flying thousands of miles and breaking through the atmosphere of a planet and into space with ease using their jetpacks.

Another example is that in the finale the villain/villains have great powers (I’m doing my best to avoid spoilers) and yet they end up being like every other dopey background actor stormtrooper who gets felled with ease by the good guys.

The biggest problem with season three though is that it felt like it was no longer about The Mandalorian but rather about the WOmandalorian. Female warrior queen Bo-Katan Kryze became the focus of the drama and the hero who continuously kept saving the damsel-in-distress Din Djarin from peril.

Making things worse was that Katee Sakchoff, an actress I loved on Battlestar Galactica, was dreadful as Bo-Katan. In season two Din Djarin worked with a bad-ass woman warrior Cara Dune, played by Gina Carano. Dune was really cool and Carano was great in the role, but then she said something on social media about Nazis that made the Nazis at Disney upset so they fired her. The reason I bring this up is because, and I never thought I’d say this in my entire life, but Katee Sackhoff is no Gina Carano, and The Mandalorian season three suffers under her relentlessly weak performance.

Which brings up another issue that is becoming glaring, and that is Disney’s princess problem. What I mean by that is that Disney made its bazillions by telling female-centric stories for girls about princesses. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and on and on. The problem is that they’ve purchased Marvel and Star Wars, two brands that tell archetypal stories about boys and men for boys and men.

Instead of embracing what made Marvel and Star Wars successful, Disney has reverted to form and gone about dismantling the male archetypes and replacing them with “princesses” - inadequate and inappropriate female characters.

So, in Marvel we get Thor replaced by Lady Thor, Black Panther replaced by Lady Black Panther, Hawkeye replaced by Lady Hawkeye, Iron Man replaced by Iron Heart aka Lady Iron Man…not to mention the cavalcade of female led-projects like Black Widow, Captain Marvel (who originally was a man in the comics) and now The Marvels. In Star Wars the most obvious example was that the center of the latest trilogy was a female, Rey, while the two previous trilogies focused on Luke and Anakin.

I understand Disney’s insipid impulse to feminize everything and even understand its insidious desire to socially engineer through its products, but what shocks me about this is Disney’s incredible misunderstanding of the basics of myth and archetype.

As Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung teach us, the woman’s hero journey (or heroine journey if you will) is very different from the male hero journey. Different narratives and archetypes are needed and necessary in order to tell the heroine’s journey, but what Disney (and most other modern storytelling) is doing is simply replacing men in the hero’s journey with women.

The reason why these stories, on the whole, fail is because they do not resonate in the collective unconscious due to their mythic and archetypal misunderstandings.

This does not mean that women can’t be leads in action stories…quite the contrary, but they must go on a heroine’s journey not a hero’s journey. Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien is a perfect example of the heroine’s journey in an action role. Ripley is at her core a feminine mother character (in the first film this – among other reasons - is why the cat is so important – as Ripley must nurture and save it), just like the mother creature she fights.

Another example is Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) from the fantastic 2015 film Sicario. Macer is an FBI agent but she must navigate the brutal world of men all the while knowing that she, as a woman, is more vulnerable than the men she is surrounded by. As much as she wants to be “one of the boys”, she never will be and that is part of her journey…coming to understand the nature of things and the perilous, nearly indecipherable world of men.

While audiences, for social or political reasons, may support these Disney designed female-led hero’s journeys, on a very deep psychological level, they are agitated by them and often repulsed by them and that’s because they are the anti-thesis of our inherent psychological and mythological conditioning.

No doubt there are some who, again for social or political reasons, want to decondition audiences from what they would describe as an archaic view of men and women, but the human psyche and collective conscious and unconscious, don’t work that way as they have been built over thousands of years and don’t bend to whatever is fashionable in the decadent society du jour.

Back in 2015 right after the female-led The Force Awakens hit theatres, I was at a dinner party with a bunch of Angelinos and the movie came up as a topic of conversation. I chimed in and said I didn’t think it was very good and a woman sitting next to me, who was there with her maybe ten-year-old daughter, leaned over and whispered into my ear, “yes, but the message it sends to girls, and to boys about girls, is really important.”

I nearly bled to death biting my tongue in an attempt to avoid a social mis-step. What I wanted to tell this woman was that the privileged life she led, the big L.A. house she lived in with the “I’m With Her” sign in front, and the security of her existence, was built by…men. Many of them ugly, brutish men, who she would despise simply because they were ugly and brutish men. These are the same men who throughout history have eliminated any and all threats to her plush, decadent, million-dollar, echo-chamber existence.

This is the type of woman, a pampered princess, who demands “equality” for women and girls, but when push comes to shove, she only wants the kind of “equality” where she is awarded unquestioned deference and privileges due to her “victim status” as a woman which elevates her above by those deplorable men who intervene to protect her from the vicious darkness of the world.

If this woman lived in Ukraine she would, as did most of the Ukrainian women, leave to go live in other parts of Europe while all the men of fighting age (and well beyond and beneath fighting age) were forced, through force or conscience, to fight, and ended up being slaughtered by the vastly superior Russian military.

This is why Sicario is so impactful, as it shows in the bleakest, bluntest terms, that play-acting as a tough chick won’t cut it in the world of men. Men inherently understand this as we’ve navigated the perils of the brutal world of men our entire lives and know what the real deal is.

Yes, women have been on the receiving end of toxic masculinity…but they’ve also benefitted from men’s sacrifice and masculinity’s ability to protect them in a dangerous world to such a degree that they now feel safe and secure enough to incessantly bitch and moan about how all masculinity is toxic.

That’s a long way of saying that when Bo-Katan saves Din Djarin for like the fifth time in season three on The Mandalorian, it made me laugh at how ridiculous and shameful it was even for a silly, sci-fi series on a corporate streaming service hellbent on promoting a social-political agenda.

It is fitting that Disney now turns its Star Wars hopes to Ahsoka, which hits Disney plus in August and tells the story of the female Jedi who was once the Padawan of Anakin Skywalker. The girl power galaxy strikes again.

As far as The Mandalorian season three goes, it was a major letdown compared to season one and two. The series lost not only its cohesiveness and its competence, but more importantly its purpose and meaning, and there’s no telling if it’ll ever get it back.

Season three of The Mandalorian was so deflating, it left me wondering not only what the future holds for Star Wars, but if it has a future at all.

The cold, hard reality is that The Mandalorian, Star Wars, Marvel, and our entire culture in general, is an utter mess, and it needs to get its balls back and quick if it wants to survive.

As the Mandalorians would say, “This is the way.”

©2023

Air: A Review - Who Knew That Shameless Corporate Ass-Kissing Could Be So Entertaining?

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!****

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. A rare treat of a well-made movie for grown-ups. Not life changing but undeniably entertaining.

Air, the new movie about Nike’s push to sign Michael Jordan to an endorsement deal in 1984, is, to quote Kris Kristofferson, “partly truth, partly fiction, a walking contradiction”.

The film, which is directed by Ben Affleck and stars Affleck as well as his old buddy Matt Damon, is the rarest of rare things in our current culture in that it’s a movie featuring movie stars, made for grown-ups in which everyone involved is exceedingly competent at what they do.

Ben Affleck’s direction, the cast’s performances, first-time screenwriter Alex Convery’s script and Robert Richardson’s cinematography are all, at a bare minimum, competent and often much more than that. For this reason alone, the film is undeniably entertaining.

It’s a testament to Damon and Affleck’s star power, and the professionalism and skill of everyone involved, that even though viewers know how the story ends, Air is still a compelling and captivating story that at times is remarkably exhilarating and even moving.

Matt Damon is terrific as Sonny Vaccaro, the guy leading the charge to get Michael Jordan to sign up with the then basement-dwelling, third ranked basketball sneaker company, Nike.

Damon has always been a top-notch movie star actor, and he brings all his skill to the fore as the lovable loser Vaccaro. Damon is a pleasant and oddly charming screen presence who effortlessly carries this story from start to finish.

Viola Davis, who plays Michael Jordan’s mom Deloris, is outstanding in her supporting role. With minimal screen time Davis imbues Deloris with a silent authority that dominates the drama. Every time she is on-screen, she is subtly the center of the universe. It would be difficult to imagine a scenario where Davis doesn’t get nominated for an Oscar for this performance.

Ben Affleck is very good too as Phil Knight, the very strange founder of Nike. Affleck is fantastic at being unintentionally funny and if Phil Knight is anything it is unintentionally funny.

Affleck’s direction is solid as well. His decision to not make Michael Jordan a major character in the film, and to not show Jordan’s face, were pretty brilliant as the movie could have easily spun out of control and turned into a rather cheap, made-for-tv type of project with a Jordan imitator joining the festivities.

All that said, there are some things about Air that leave a decidedly bad taste in my mouth.

The first of which is that this movie is undeniably a piece of corporate propaganda and hagiography. This isn’t just a film about American capitalism and corporatocracy, it is a celebration of American capitalism and corporatocracy.

The movie bends the truth to some extraordinary degrees in order to pretend it isn’t celebrating the rather deplorable parts of American capitalism and corporatism symbolized by Nike, and to act like it’s actually a tale about the working man fighting against corporate power.

Jordan is made out to be a pioneer who broke the mold regarding shoe contracts by demanding profit sharing and his mother Deloris makes the case that “young black boys will pay a lot for this sneaker and that money should go to my son!” She also says that workers like Vaccaro, and black athletes endorsing sneakers, are exploited by companies like Nike, and Converse and Adidas and they deserve more of the profits.

This is all well and good and is a nice bit of drama for the film, but the fact that Nike pays slave wages to third world workers in order to make their sneakers goes unsaid and unacknowledged. Also unsaid and unacknowledged is the fact that Nike sell their status symbol shoes at exorbitant prices that are so high that in the 80’s and 90’s they often caused crime and violence by young black men against other young black men in order to get them.

In addition, it is also a bit unnerving that Sonny Vaccaro, who is widely considered by many in the know to be one of the sleaziest people from the amateur basketball scene back in the 70’s and 80’s, is made out to be the good-hearted, kind, lovable hero of the movie.

Vaccaro was a shark who was deeply involved in all sorts of shady shit back in the day, and to see him in the film and in the film’s prologue, portrayed as the champion of the good, the noble and the right is a bit much.

There’s an interesting monologue in the film about the Bruce Springsteen song “Born in the USA”, which was enormously popular in 1984. The song, which was co-opted by Reagan as a flag-waving theme song, is actually a lament about the brutal decline of America, but because its morose lyrics are accompanied by the energized music of an uber-patriotic anthem, the song’s meaning gets lost and its artistic power usurped.

It could be that Affleck uses the “Born in the USA” monologue to let astute viewers know that he is trying to hide his critique of the insidious nature of American capitalism and corporatocracy in plain sight in this hagiography. I’d like to think so…but Air feels too weak in its criticisms and too vociferous in its praise of Nike (and all that it represents) to pass that test, and thus feels like just the anthem part of “Born in the USA” without the existential lament at its core.  

The reality is that Air is really a movie about marketing that is itself a piece of marketing. The film, with its fantastic soundtrack of 80’s music, looks and feels like a two-hour commercial for Nike. In this way it is almost an extension of The Last Dance, the ten-hour Michael Jordan docu-series that was so gloriously received by everyone but me back in 2020. That docu-series was shameless legend cultivation and brand buttressing of Michael Jordan and was produced by…you guessed it…Michael Jordan. But our culture is so enamored and addicted to narcissistic self-promotion and propaganda, that no one cared they were being fed a piece of self-serving bullshit.

Speaking of shameless marketing and self-promotion, it is strange that Damon and Affleck are out pounding the pavement selling this movie and pretending this is their first reunion film since their smash hit Good Will Hunting back in 1997, for which they won a Best Original Screenplay Oscar.

Damon and Affleck’s last actual on-screen and writing credit reunion was Ridley Scott’s underrated 2021 film The Last Duel. The Last Duel was overlooked by audiences and snickered at by critics, but I thought it was very good, so to see Damon and Affleck pretend like it doesn’t exist is somewhat bizarre…but makes sense in terms of marketing as the Damon-Affleck reunion card is being played again. As they say, everything old is new again…apparently even on-screen reunions that already happened two-years ago.  

Also a bit odd is the fact that this movie is the first from Damon and Affleck’s production company Artists Equity, which is all about paying workers above and below the line fairly and with equity in the film.

That the narrative of Air somewhat reflects the business model of Artists Equity is clever, as is Affleck talking up how he looked out for first time screenwriter Convery and promised him he’d get full credit despite some rewrites.

But that “looking out for the working man” narrative feels like window dressing when the movie it is placed in is an embarrassing ass-kissing of sweatshop masters Nike made by the deplorable demons at Amazon. I mean…yikes…you’d be hard pressed to find two companies as destructive to working people and our culture as Nike and Amazon. This insidious approach is somewhat reminiscent of the Best Picture winner Nomadland, which told a tale of the working poor on the fringes of society yet disgustingly managed to portray Amazon - which is well-known for its abuse of workers and labor practices, as a friend to the working man and wonderful worker’s paradise.

And yet, despite the rather repulsive pro-corporation politics and economics on display in the movie, Air is an irresistibly entertaining and unrelentingly enjoyable movie, which is a testament to Affleck and Damon’s talent and star power.

In conclusion, Air is in rarified air in that it’s a movie for grown-ups that features movie stars confidently filling up the big screen. I highly recommend it and can guarantee that while it won’t change your life, it will definitely leave you satisfied.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 97 - The Woman King

On this episode, Barry and I don our women warrior garb and do battle over The Woman King, the sword and sandal action movie starring Viola Davis now streaming on Netflix. Topics discussed include the blueprint of successful female-led action movies, the burden and benefits of claiming to be "based on a true story", and the curse of over-hyping sub-mediocrity. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 97 - The Woman King

Thanks for listening!

©2023