"Everything is as it should be."

                                                                                  - Benjamin Purcell Morris

 

 

© all material on this website is written by Michael McCaffrey, is copyrighted, and may not be republished without consent

Follow me on Twitter: Michael McCaffrey @MPMActingCo

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

The Woman King: A Review - Amateurish Action Junk for Women

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

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Mindless, middlebrow movie devoid of meaningful drama, decent action or historical accuracy.

Sometimes a movie comes along and critics and audiences fawn all over it and then I watch it and wonder what the hell is wrong with these people?

The Woman King, an action movie about the Agojie, a real-life group of female soldiers in 1820’s Dahomey, Africa, is one of those movies.

The film, which stars Viola Davis and is directed Gina Prince-Blythewood, premiered back in September and it was greeted with an impressive 94% critical score and 99% audience score on Rotten Tomatoes. It is now streaming on Netflix and I finally watched it and am utterly baffled by the love it’s received.

The Woman King got some more attention when the Oscar nominations came out because the usual suspects were bitching and moaning that the movie’s star, Viola Davis, was “snubbed”, and that the film’s director Gina Prince-Blythewood was too, both on account of their being black, and in Prince-Blythewood’s case also because she’s a female director. Sigh.

The arguments for The Woman King’s star and director being snubbed by the Oscars are so ridiculous as to be absurd.

For example, many pundits claimed the movie was awards-worthy because it was a “blockbuster” and that should have elevated its Oscar profile. Let’s be as clear as we can about this, The Woman King was not a “blockbuster” by any stretch of the imagination. The film made $94 million on a $50 million budget…which in the Hollywood accounting world means it probably didn’t even break even once you factor in marketing costs.

And let’s be even more real about The Woman King…it isn’t even remotely a good movie. It’s a painfully ordinary, rather silly sword and sandals, middlebrow movie that is burdened with a laughable script, piss poor direction and even worse fight choreography.

This movie is a painfully pedestrian action film, but simply because it’s about, stars and is directed by black women, it has magically been elevated into the “prestige” category. For example, one critic actually admitted in his positive review, “Every single beat of the plot is creaky and familiar, and if it had been a story about white people, it would have been a snore.” Yikes.

Gina Prince-Blythewood, whose last film was the clown show The Old Guard, simply is not a good director. On The Woman King her visuals are relentlessly flat and stale, and the performances from her cast obscenely forced and phony.

The film is really just an action movie so its action sequences should be its calling card, but just like with The Old Guard, the action sequences here are haphazard. Every battle is muddled and murky, poorly shot, poorly choreographed and poorly edited. The amateurish action cheese on-screen in this film makes a home video of a sandbox slap fight between toddlers look like Saving Private Ryan.

It also doesn’t help that these female super soldiers that can allegedly kick everybody’s ass look as weak as a geriatric sewing circle. If good old boy Buford Pusser from Walking Tall (the 1970’s original not the newer one starring The Rock) squared off all by himself against these crazy broads he’d beat them silly with his baseball bat in five minutes flat.

Viola Davis is supposed to be the baddest of badasses as Agojie General Nanisca but she looks like what she is…a nice, middle-aged lady with no muscle tone and probably some bone density loss.

Thuso Mbedu plays new girl Nawi who joins the Agojie, and she is a profoundly shoddy actress and an even worse action hero, as she looks like she’s allergic to exercise and has the upper body strength and muscle tone of a quadriplegic on a hunger strike.

Supporting actress Lashana Lynch plays warrior Izogie and looks like Don Cheadle in drag…which in this context could be construed as a compliment.

None of the acting in this movie rings anything but hollow. There’s lots of posing and preening and pretending on screen, but not any real acting. It’s like watching a girl’s junior high school drama club play act at being macho men.

The only performance that had any life to it was a rather hysterical portrayal of Dahomey King Ghezo by John Boyega. Boyega is so free and funny as the King he steals the whole damn movie.

The reason that other critics won’t tell you these hard truths about The Woman King is the same reason the movie was made in the first place…namely that it’s a black girl power story which makes it a glorious triumph among the weak-kneed woke buffoons in the establishment critical class regardless of its merit…or lack thereof. In other words, it’s a wonderful vehicle for critics to use to signal their virtue.

What makes the movie’s modern-day racial and political posturing so amusing is that The Woman King violently contorts and distorts actual history to such a degree its astonishing the movie didn’t collapse in on itself from its own gargantuan hypocrisy.

The film portrays the Agojie as female super soldiers, vastly superior to any men in combat and morally superior to them in the rest of life by being virulently and violently opposed to slavery. The reality is something very, very, very different. You see, in real life the Agojie and the Dahomey were unrepentant, shameless slave traders. Their economy depended on them kidnapping and capturing other Africans and selling them to Europeans and Americans who would then bring them to the new world.

As uncomfortable as this is to acknowledge, the truth is that black Africans were always vital partners to Europeans and Americans in the slave trade. In fact, it could be argued that without tribes like the Dahomey, which sold Africans to white slave traders, the infamous and calamitous slave trade to America would have been so difficult to make profitable as to be rendered essentially defunct.

Of course, that history is inconvenient to the modern Manichean victimhood narrative around slavery where white men are bad and black people saintly. It should be noted that actress Lupita Nyong’o, a native daughter of Kenya, nobly turned down a role in this film due to the “complicated” history regarding the Dahomey and slavery. Wise woman.

In this context, one can’t help but ponder…would there be more or less generational shame around slavery for black Americans if the actual truth about African complicity in the heinous crime of trans-Atlantic slavery were brought to the fore?

At least in that scenario blacks are not just hapless victims without agency who are too weak or disorganized or technologically inferior to overcome white devils and the monumental machinery of slavery. No, in this historically accurate scenario Africans are crucial cogs in the machinery of slavery itself and therefore are no longer stripped of agency but saddled with some, but obviously not anywhere close to all, responsibility. Would that be a better scenario to cleanse the perceived shame of their ancestors having been enslaved from African-American’s collective consciousness? Maybe, maybe not. My argument would be that the truth about slavery and African’s complicated complicity in it would be a better narrative to embrace in order to heal that grievous wound for the sole reason that it is the truth…and as we know the truth shall set you free.

To be clear, it doesn’t much matter what I think, but to be fair as an Irishman and a Catholic I know a wee bit about generational shame and the cultural and collective insecurities that fester over historical crimes. Take that for what it’s worth.

As if the slave history stuff in The Woman King weren’t enough, the notion of the Agojie as super soldiers is equally, if not more, ridiculous. Not surprisingly, in 1892 when, in one of the few times these female super soldiers fought an actual army, the French slaughtered them in an afternoon using only bayonets, killing 417 Agojie while only losing 6 of their own.  

The question then becomes, with the ugly history of Dahomey slave trading and Agojie military incompetence, why not just make up a fictional story about an imaginary tribe in Africa with great female warriors? I suppose that’s already been done with Marvel’s Black Panther movies…but The Woman King wants to be a real inspiration to black women and delusional feminist fools everywhere, so they manufactured a false story and just labelled it history in order to give it weight, meaning and purpose and garner prestige.

What is most egregious about this approach though is that the movie goes out of its way to whitewash the historical crimes of the Dahomey and place them instead in the hands of reliable movie villains…white men. In the film, Viola Davis’ Nanisca even says, “the white man has brought immorality here!” Ummm…if history is any guide the Dahomey seemed quite advanced when it came to immorality well before the white man ever showed up.

Of course, changing history to make a better story is not exactly breaking new ground in Hollywood, so the crimes of The Woman King in that regard can be shrugged off in the name of empty-headed entertainment…but what can’t be so easily forgiven is the numerous crimes against artistry and drama that the film commits.

The bottom line is that The Woman King is an instantaneously forgettable film that is deserving of neither critical acclaim nor award recognition. That gullible audiences are so dopey as to enjoy this third-rate, cheesy girl power garbage only speaks to the calamitous lowering of taste and standards across the entirety of our culture. I do admit that I wish the Agojie were real though, just so they could mount an offensive and wipe out the philistines who enjoy this sort of mindless junk.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCO

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 95 - Oscar Wrap Up and Wakanda Forever

On this episode, Barry and I do a quick recap of the Oscars and then catch a flight to Wakanda to discuss all things Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. Topics discussed include the sorry state of movie stardom, the sorry state of cinema and the even sorrier state of Marvel.

Looking California and Felling Minnesota: Episode 95 - Oscar Wrap Up and Wakanda Forever

Thanks for listening!

©2023

9th Annual Slip-Me-A-Mickey™® Awards: 2022 Edition

THE 2022 SLIP-ME-A-MICKEY™® AWARDS

The Slip-Me-A-Mickey™® awards are the final award of the interminably long awards season. The Slip-Me-A-Mickey™®, or as some lovingly call them, The Mockeys™®, are a robust tribute to the absolute worst that film and entertainment has to offer for the year.

Again, the qualifying rules are simple, I just had to have seen the film for it to be eligible. This means that at one point I had an interest in the film and put the effort in to see it, which may explain why I am so angry about it being awful. So, any vitriol I may spew during this awards presentation shouldn't be taken personally by the people mentioned, it is really anger at myself for getting duped into watching.

The prizes are also pretty simple. The winners/losers receive nothing but my temporary scorn. If you are a winner/loser don't fret, because this year’s Slip-Me-A-Mickey™® loser/winner could always be next year’s Mickey™® winner!! Remember…you are only as good as your last film!!

Now…onto the awards!

WORST FILM OF THE YEAR

Amsterdam – An astonishingly awful film that is so incoherent and incomprehensible I can only posit that the Illuminati running Hollywood (and the world) demanded it be intentionally so poorly crafted in order to scuttle any discussion of Smedley Butler and the Business Plot.

She Said – Imagine making such a shitty a movie that audiences end up rooting for a deplorable fucking pig like Harvey Weinstein by the end. Quite an accomplishment!

Don’t Worry Darling – No, actually DO worry, darling. This turd was an absolute shit show of epic proportions and may very well have mercifully ended Olivia Wilde’s directing career…for that we can be grateful.

My Policeman – To quote Kurt Cobain, “what else can I say, everyone is gay!”…including Harry Styles apparently. A gay plot about gayness that is totally gay, but still makes no sense, that is infused with instantly forgettable performances turned this derivative drama into Return to Blokeback Mountain.

Pinocchio – Robert Zemeckis and Tom Hanks should return their Oscars after churning out this mindless, heartless, craft-less sack of shit. Just utterly abysmal from start to finish.

The Fabelmans – An alarmingly amateurish, poorly written, directed and acted piece of vapid, narcissistic garbage that is filled to the brim with cringe. Besides that it’s just fine.

AND THE LOSER IS…AMSTERDAM! – It’s actually quite an accomplishment to make a movie this bad and to stand out from this collection of shit sandwiches.

WORST VIRTUE SIGNALING FILM OF THE YEAR

She Said – A movie that featured the stunningly brave, earth-shattering thesis that Harvey Weinstein is bad and women are good! Too bad this empty movie had nothing original or interesting to say. Total piece of junk meant to signal its virtue to the usual suspects in order to garner awards…but was so dreadfully made even its target audience stopped pretending it was good.  

Women Talking – A stagey, whiney, bitchy movie about Mennonite women debating each other like they’re know-it-all know-nothings at a late-night bitch session at Wellesley College. As pretentious, pompous, poorly made and transparently virtue-signaling and awards-thirsty as any movie as we’ve seen in years.

AND THE LOSER IS…WOMEN TALKING – The most blatant bit of vacuous and vapid virtue signaling imaginable. The fact that it is a truly horrendous movie but still won an Oscar tells you all you need to know about its pure pandering business model.

WORST PERFORMANCE OF THE YEAR

Tom Hanks – Tom Hanks has won two Best Actor Oscars, yet this year with his truly abysmal work in Elvis and Pinocchio, he has proven himself to be the worst best actor of all time. Hanks’ inability to play a character, or speak with an accent, were on full display this year, as was his hackneyed, hokey, shticky acting approach, and we’re all worse off for it. Please go away forever Tom Hanks.

Harry Styles – Harry Styles was poised to have a break out year and become a big movie star…and then we saw him in My Policeman and Don’t Worry Darling and his rocket ship to superstardom exploded on the launching pad. Holy shit this kid can’t act…not even a little. As uncomfortable and unnatural a screen presence as we’ve seen since Cindy Crawford in Fair Game.

Seth Rogan – Seth Rogan is an unwiped anus. His work in The Fablemans was a healthy reminder that he is an odious screen presence. I, for one, yearn for his vanishing from the public eye and/or the planet.

AND THE LOSER IS…TOM HANKS! Hanks should be embarrassed and humiliated by his work over the last twenty years, but he’s incapable of feeling anything but smug and superior. This hack should fuck off forever.

WORST SCENE OF THE YEAR

She Said – Bar Scene – An astonishing piece of cinema that is so atrocious as to be amazing. This scene has everything! From the poor dialogue (“these are the menus”), to the egregious virtue signaling, to the one-dimensional strawman, to the heinous acting. Just an all-around miraculous piece of cinematic shit that would be laughed out of a freshman year student film festival.

MOST OVERRATED FILM OF THE YEAR

The Fabelmans – The Fabelmans isn’t just a bad movie, it’s an embarrassing movie. That it was Oscar nominated for Best Picture and Best Director, as well as Best Actress, is a testament to how corrupt Hollywood truly is. If this film were made by anyone other than Steven Spielberg, it would’ve been vociferously labeled cringey, amateurish horseshit…but since St. Steven made it we are supposed to fawn over how “personal” it is. Get the fuck outta here with this garbage. This movie is shitty to the extreme and absolutely sucks donkey balls. If you liked it you’re an incorrigible idiot and an unrepentant asshole.

SPECIAL ACHIEVEMENT IN CINEMATIC MALPRACTICE

David O. Russell – Russell has never been a good director, but for some reason he has been considered among the elite moviemakers in Hollywood for the past twenty years or so. I think with the trainwreck that is Amsterdam, Russell has convincingly disabused Hollywood of the notion that he is even remotely able to make movies. To see even the most-simple of things, like setting actor’s eye lines, be fucked up in this deplorable shitshow, was jaw-dropping to witness. Russell put all of his copious amounts of shittyness into the Amsterdam stew and a few of us poor souls had to take a stinky bite. Yikes. Hopefully this asshat never gets another shot to make a movie.

P.O.S. HALL OF FAME

Meghan and Harry – Only these two self-absorbed, narcissistic pieces of shit could make a pervy prodigious pedophile like pecker-face Prince Andrew seem like a half normal person.

These two half-wit shitbags hate publicity and the public eye so much they moved to Hollywood and got into the entertainment business. And now you can’t avoid them because they won’t shut the fuck up and stay off camera for a single, solitary moment.

Prince Harry is a sad-sack eunuch and a ball-less buffoon and Meghan is a diabolical and devious shrew who has successfully neutered her needle-dicked husband and isolated him from his in-bred family.

My wish is that the new King Charles invites these two insufferable cunts to his coronation, they show up and then right after the ceremony King Charles has them beheaded, old school style, on live television. This would please Harry and Meghan because they’d get a lot of attention and get to be victims, and it would also ensure that Charles would be the most popular King in the history of England.

P.O.S ALL-STARS

Sean Penn – I’ve always liked Sean Penn as both an actor and a guy. He and I have very similar personalities…which isn’t exactly a brag on my part.

This year Penn has brought some of his famous screen characters to life in the real world, as he’s publicly morphed into the mentally challenged young man from I Am Sam combined with the gay activist politician Harvey Milk from Milk. Penn has made this transformation in order to bang the drums of war in Ukraine as loudly as possible.

Yes, Sean Penn who was so vociferous in his righteous anti-war sentiments regarding Iraq in 2003, is now out there demanding the U.S. and the military industrial complex get further involved in the war in Ukraine, including direct combat.

What a fucking genius.

Maybe someone should remind Sean that he has a son who’s the perfect age to go fight in Ukraine…and if that country’s “freedom” is so fucking important to him maybe he and his son can gear up and move out and go kick some Russian ass halfway across the world.

If that isn’t something he’s interested in, then maybe I Am Sam should shut the fuck up and stop talking and acting like a fucking useless retard. Maybe Mayor Man Milk should stop shouting that “I’m here to recruit you…to die in the war in Ukraine for the U.S. elites who absolutely hate you and only want to use you for cannon fodder!” Penn’s I am Sam/Harvey Milk character sounds like another famous gay buffoon, George W. Bush, as he marched us into war in Iraq…and as we all remember that went spectacularly well. Mission accomplished motherfucker!

So, Sean Penn, do us all a favor and SHUT THE FUCK UP. If you want to fight, I’d be happy to meet you and your movie star biceps anywhere, anytime, and slap the stupid out of your thick fucking skull. And by the way maybe try and do another exercise bedsides curls when you’re at the gym, you might find your bulging biceps to be less than useful in combat, be it in Ukraine or in a scrap with me. You’re welcome you fucking empty-headed shit heel.

And thus ends the Slip-Me-A-Mickey™® Awards and the cinema calendar for 2022…thank God!!

Hopefully the losers this year will be the winners next year…you never know. One thing I can guarantee though is that there will be movies and performances worthy of the Slip-Me-A-Mickey™® Award next year…and I’ll be ready!!

Thanks for reading!

 FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER: @MPMActingCo

©2023

The 9th Annual Mickey™® Awards: 2022 Edition

THE MICKEYS – 2022

The god-awful Oscars have finally come and gone and now it’s time for the final and most prestigious awards in cinema to commence.

The Mickey™® Awards aren’t just the most prestigious award in cinema, but are undeniably the most prestigious award on the planet, easily topping those wannabe poseurs at the overrated Nobel Prize.

Unfortunately, in recent years the art of cinema has not been worthy of such an esteemed and distinguished honor. You see, since the halcyon days of 2019 when great movies like Parasite, Joker, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and The Irishman, and significant arthouse films like Ad Astra, A Hidden Life, The Last Black Man in San Francisco and High Life, as well as quality middle-brow entertainment like the finely-crafted 1917 and Ford v Ferrari, graced our big screens, we’ve been in a dramatic and dire cinema drought. Not only has greatness not come to the big screen (or small screen) in the last three years, goodness has been an absolute rarity as well.

On the bright side, it must be said that 2022 was definitely better than 2021, but that isn’t saying much as 2021 was easily the worst year for movies in my entire life. To give an indication of how bad things were in 2021, last year The Mickeys™® were almost cancelled because the nominating committee couldn’t make a list of top five films due to the fact that there weren’t five good films that came out all year.

As far as the future is concerned, one can only cling to the hope that the ever-so-slight upward trend in cinema quality from 2021 to 2022 continues and that the three years ahead of us end up being better than the three unbelievably shitty years we’ve just slogged through.

Am I optimistic? God no! But at least as I wallow in my depression I’m setting myself up for the wondrous experience of being pleasantly surprised. As my cavalcade of girlfriends can attest, I am extremely fond of saying, “the key to happiness is low expectations.”

Before we get started…a quick rundown of the rules and regulations of The Mickeys™®. The Mickeys™® are selected by me. I am judge, jury and executioner. The only films eligible are films I have actually seen, be it in the theatre, via screener, cable, streamer or VOD. I do not see every film because as we all know, the overwhelming majority of films are God-awful, and I am a working man so I must be pretty selective. So that means that just getting me to actually watch your movie is a tremendous accomplishment in and of itself…never mind being nominated or winning!

The Prizes!! The winners of The Mickey™® award will receive one acting coaching session with me FOR FREE!!! Yes…you read that right…FOR FREE!! Non-acting category winners receive a free lunch* with me at Fatburger (*lunch is considered one "sandwich" item, one order of small fries, you aren't actors so I know you can eat carbs, and one beverage….yes, your beverage can be a shake, you fat bastards). Actors who win and don't want an acting coaching session but would prefer the lunch…can still go straight to hell…but I am legally obligated to inform you that, yes, there WILL BE SUBSTITUTIONS allowed with The Mickey™® Awards prizes. If you want to go to lunch, I will gladly pay for your meal…and the sterling conversation will be entirely free of charge.

Enough with the formalities…let's start the festivities!!

Popcorn Movie of the Year

The Batman – Matt Reeves wrote and directed the most recent sojourn into the world of the Batman and his film is a unique and original venture in a genre worn thin by its relentless and ridiculous repetition.

The Northman – Robert Eggers attempt at a Norse action movie is as weird as you’d expect it to be. While uneven, the film is a gloriously ambitious and smart action film that audiences were too stupid to understand.

Prey – I assumed Prey was going to be just another empty-headed franchise movie. It wasn’t. It was an original take on the well-worn Predator movies that revitalized the franchise.

And The Mickey™® goes to…THE BATMAN

Best Cinematography

All Quiet on the Western Front – James Friend – Friend’s work on All Quiet is simply astounding as he captured the scope and scale of war while also conveying the deeply intimate impact of it. Just beautifully photographed.

The Batman – Grieg Fraser – Fraser’s work on The Batman is at times absolutely stunning. His use of light in darkness paints some of the most extraordinary visuals in any film this year.

The Banshees of Inisherin – Ben Davis – Davis makes the most of his Irish setting through the use of fundamentally sound cinematography.

Tar – Florian Hoffmeister – Hoffmeister’s framing is simply exquisite as he turns the mundane into delicious pieces of cinema.

And The Mickey™® goes to…ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT

Best Supporting Actor

Brendan Gleeson – The Banshees of Inisherin: Gleeson is one of the best actors around and he brings the full force of his skill to his role of Colm, the dissatisfied musician tired of the ordinary life. Gleeson elevates every scene he inhabits.

Barry Keoghan – The Banshees of Inisherin: Keoghan’s work as Dominic, the fragile and combustible young man trapped in his life on the small isle of Inisherin, is at times stunning. The scene where he asks a girl to be with him is one of the very best captured on film this year.

And The Mickey™® goes to…BRENDAN GLEESON

Best Supporting Actress

Kerry Condon – The Banshees of Inisherin: Condon perfectly captures the frustration and futility of life as an Irish woman surrounded by the hell that is Irish men.

And The Mickey™® goes to…KERRY CONDON

Best Screenplay

The Banshees of Inisherin – Martin McDonagh: McDonagh’s screenplay is ridiculous and absurd at times, but it never fails to perfectly capture the civil war raging in the hearts and minds of every Irishman.

Triangle of Sadness – Ruben Ostlund: On its surface, Triangle of Sadness is a rather banal and somewhat predictable criticism of American capitalism (a criticism I agree with by the way), but just beneath this surface is as smart, savvy and savage a social satire as seen on big screens in ages.

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio: Del Toro turns the well-worn story of the puppet come to life into a fascinating tale of love, loss and fascism. As relevant a story as we saw all year.

And The Mickey goes to…TRIANGLE OF SADNESS

Best Scene of the Year

The Banshees of Inisherin – When Barry Keoghan’s Dominic professes his love for Kerry Condon’s Siobhan, it is absolutely heartbreaking and gut-wrenching. Both Keoghan and Condon absolutely crush this scene.

Tar – When Cate Blanchett’s Lydia Tar tries to teach a simple-minded social justice woke warrior about the complexity of life and music in this ten-minute uncut scene, it is simply mesmerizing. The actor playing opposite Blanchett, Zethphan Smith-Gneist, is so uncomfortable (either intentionally or unintentionally) in the role as to be glorious. Just one of those unbelievably magical scenes that make cinema so wondrous.

All Quiet on the Western Front – The scene where Paul is stuck in a bomb crater with a French soldier is absolutely hellacious as it shows war as a humanity crushing machine. It is a perfect encapsulation of this film and its anti-war message.

And The Mickey goes to…TAR

Best Actress

Cate Blanchett – Tar : There is no other option in this category. Blanchett is the best actress of her generation and maybe every other generation too. Blanchett’s skill and mastery of craft are sublime, and her raw talent is undeniable. Just a master class of master classes in terms of great acting.

And The Mickey goes to…CATE BLANCHETT – TAR

Best Actor

Felix Kammerer – All Quiet on the Western Front: A deft portrayal of the horrors of war that hollows out the human soul. Kammerer never loses his edge or his innate sense of humanity in this role.

Colin Farrell – The Banshees of Inisherin: Farrell’s work as the dim-witted, sad-sack Padraic is astonishing considering he was little more than a rather dim-witted, Hollywood pretty boy not that long ago. Farrell has grown into a terrific actor of quality and worth over the last decade or so and he puts it all together in this most subtle and deft portrayal.

And The Mickey™® goes to…COLIN FARRELL – THE BANSHEES OF INISHERIN

Actor/Actress of the Year

COLIN FARRELL – In 2022 Farrell not only excelled as the lead in The Banshees of Inisherin, but he was also terrific in The Batman as the Penguin, and even elevated a rather mundane Ron Howard movie with a simple yet subtle turn as one of the divers who saves kids trapped in a cave in Thirteen Lives. Farrell has come a long way, and he now has not one but two Mickey™® awards to prove his greatness.

Best Director

Ruben Ostlund – Triangle of Sadness: Ostlund the director had to somehow bring to the screen the wild, unwieldly, sprawling story written by Ostlund the screenwriter…and he does it with a panache and deft touch that is breathtaking to behold.

Martin McDonagh – The Banshees of Inisherin: McDonagh is a better writer than he is a director, but on Banshees he lets simplicity be his guide and the result is an extremely well-made movie that never gets in its own way.

Guillermo del Toro – Pinocchio: Del Toro infuses such life and energy into this old story, and does it with the most beautiful stop-motion animation imaginable, that one can only bow to his enormous talent and extraordinary artistic vision.

Edward Berger – All Quiet on the Western Front: Berger perfectly captures the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual hell that is war. An unrelenting film that is as relevant today as the stellar original was back in 1930.

And The Mickey™® goes to…Edward Berger – All Quiet on the Western Front

Best Picture

8. Barbarian – The first two acts of this film are spectacularly well-made, but the third act falters. Still, was a pleasant surprise to see such a well-crafted horror film.

7. The Menu – A crisp and entertaining bit of class warfare moviemaking that featured some solid performances. Not a perfect movie but compelling.

6. The Batman – Matt Reeves proves himself to be a solid captain for the good ship Caped Crusader. His unorthodox approach and storytelling are a bit of fresh air in the oversaturated superhero genre.

5. Tar – 2/3rd of a great movie. The final act falls short but Blanchett’s brilliance is undeniable.

4. Triangle of Sadness – So much more than it appears to be. A funny, but insightful and incisive social satire that pulls no punches towards anyone.

3. Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio – A deeply moving, mournful meditation on life and loss.

2. The Banshees of Inisherin – Fantastically acted story that speaks to our current time and to the burden of Irishness.

1. All Quiet on the Western Front – Astonishingly well-made film. It isn’t perfect, but it overcomes its shortcomings by brutally conveying the fact that war is hell and only demons want it.

Most Important Film of the Year

All Quiet on the Western Front – In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war going on In Ukraine. Most Americans have been so thoroughly propagandized and indoctrinated that they are chomping at the bit to get the U.S. even more entangled in this bloody war.

All Quiet on the Western Front is a powerful reminder that that idea is a very bad one. War is hell, and only demons want it…and the U.S. has nothing but demonic elites running the show.

Watching liberals, with whom I proudly marched against the Iraq War in 2003, now be so blinded by relentless propaganda, misinformation, disinformation…is both astonishing and infuriating.

These dupes, dopes and dumb asses have been thoroughly manipulated into a myopic, vicious anti-Russian mania that is breathtaking to behold.

The reality is that all these dipshits who proudly display the Ukrainian flag in their bios don’t have half a fucking clue when it comes to Russia, Ukraine and this awful war.

Most of these morons, and most of Americans, have absolutely no idea what started this war – the U.S. backed coup in 2014.

Americans think their Ukrainian flag waving is in support of “democracy”, but they’re ignorant to the fact that a democratically elected Ukrainian government was overthrown in the coup that the U.S. instigated and fueled in 2014. They also have no knowledge of the 46 ethnic Russians burned alive in the Odessa Union House – and no clue that the burning alive of Russians is particularly triggering since the Nazis did the same thing in occupied Soviet territories back in the day.

These same Americans are ignorant to the fact that the newly installed, U.S. backed, post-coup Ukrainian government proceeded to shell ethnic Russians in the Donbas, killing 14,000 men, women and children. They are also blissfully unaware that this U.S. backed Ukrainian government signed a peace accord, the Minsk Agreements, with Russia in 2014 and then intentionally violated these agreements breaking the peace. These same fools are also unaware that Ukraine, the alleged bastion of democracy, outlawed the Russian language, Russian language media, and opposition parties after the 2014 coup that toppled a democratically elected government.

Americans don’t know any of this, or they reflexively call it “Russian propaganda”, because they’ve been sold a narrative and are too stupid or too cowardly to push back against it.

How many lies about the war in Ukraine have these idiots swallowed whole? There’s the Ghost of Kiev bullshit, the Snake Island nonsense, the continuous claims of Russian massacres and war crimes – like Bucha – which are obvious pieces of unsubstantiated propaganda.

Then there’s the endless stories of massive Russian defeats and retreats, with hundreds of thousands of dead Russian soldiers…except the actual numbers are the exact opposite of what the U.S. media claims. The truth is that for every one Russian soldier killed there are ten Ukrainian soldiers killed.

Then there’s the breathless stories the U.S. media keeps telling Americans about Putin on death’s door, suffering from cancer or Parkinsons or both.

The U.S. media report Russian retreats as catastrophic failures and turn around and call Ukrainian retreats “strategic withdrawals”.

Then there’s the media deification of a two-bit twat like Zelensky, who is the new Fauci…in other words a con artist and bullshitter used to front a phony narrative.

The coverage of this war has been the most blatantly dishonest propaganda spewed by the American misinformation machine I’ve ever witnessed…which is quite an accomplishment.

Which brings us to All Quiet on the Western Front. This movie lays bare the atrocity that is war and how it is a money-making machine that devours any humanity within its reach. The problem now is that Americans are so stupid and so ill-informed and so indoctrinated, that they are yearning for the U.S. to get more involved…which will only lead to copious amounts of misery for everyone involved.

We never learn. We didn’t learn from Vietnam. We didn’t learn from Afghanistan. We didn’t learn from Iraq. And now we are sleepwalking into a ground war with a nuclear power over what it deems to be a pivotal piece of property directly on its border.

The same is true of China and Taiwan by the way, which is next up on our propaganda list. There are already establishment geniuses and flag-waving fools banging the drums of war against China. I mean, why start one major ground war when you can lose on two fronts while your empire crumbles?

The reality is that the U.S. is not the good guy in the world…and most certainly not in the war in Ukraine. That doesn’t mean the Russians are the good guys…or the bad guys…they are just the guys fighting for their existential survival in a vital part of their neighborhood. What this all means for Americans is that this is a very complex, very dangerous situation which we are much too obtuse and too narcissistic to ever fully comprehend.

The truth is that Russia is winning in Ukraine…and has been winning all along. The truth is also that the U.S. empire is flailing and falling, and the BRICS are ascendant and will be the counter balance in a multi-polar, post-U.S. empire world. We need to understand this thoroughly in order to navigate it and not end up living in a post-apocalyptic, Mad Max world.

I’m not optimistic. And after watching All Quiet on the Western Front and seeing the astonishing gullibility and brutal barbarity of mankind, you shouldn’t be either.

And thus ends my rant and the 2022 Mickey Awards, the most prestigious of all cinema awards shows.

Thanks for reading and we’ll see you at the after-party!!

FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER: @MPMActingCo

©2023

95th Academy Awards: 2023 Oscar Predictions Post

It’s that time of year again!! The Oscars are here and I think I speak for everyone on the planet when I say…nobody gives a fuck!

It is a testament to how far the film industry and art of cinema has fallen in recent years that I find myself neither excited nor angered over this year’s Oscar nominations. No, my overwhelming sentiment regarding movies in general and the Oscars in particular is numbing indifference. I just don’t care anymore.

You see, my cinephile spirit has simply been broken under the weight of our cultures repeated cinematic failures. I’m one of those foolish people who demands excellence from cinema and refuses to soften my standards in order to indulge a commitment to mediocrity. This has resulted in my being a rather brutal cinematic curmudgeon for the past three years, which have been the worst three years of my movie-watching lifetime.  

Other critics have been all too eager to conform to the current times and adjust (lower) their standards. This is how we get fawning reviews of inconceivably atrocious shit like The Fabelmans and Top Gun: Maverick. Those movies are true embarrassments and it speaks to our decadent age – which is indicative of an empire in steep decay and decline, that they are held up as wondrous cinematic achievements.

To be clear, this past year was better than the previous year, but that’s sort of like being proud that you’re the tallest midget in the freak show.

What is so unnerving about the recent decline in cinema is that it was just four short years ago, in 2019, when cinema seemed to be in tremendous shape. That year we had a truly phenomenal film, Parasite, win Best Picture, beating out an array of interesting and well-made movies for the honor. Among them The Irishman, Joker, Ford v Ferrari, 1917 and Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Any one of those film would be the run-away Best Picture winner this year.

But since the heights of 2019 we’ve been inundated with garbage. The low point being when Coda, an absolutely ridiculous, Hall Mark Channel level movie, won Best Picture last year.

The problem is not that bad movies win Oscars, that’s been going on time immemorial. No, the problem is that there’s no movies to get angry over for not having been recognized or honored. When Coda won last year, I just shrugged because I had no dog in the fight.

P.T. Anderson had a film, Licorice Pizza, competing against Coda, and he is one of my all-time favorite filmmakers so it would’ve been nice if he won but truthfully, Licorice Pizza wasn’t any good and I wasn’t going to pretend it was…so I didn’t care.

The same is true this year. There’s no movie that I think stands out that it would be a crime if it was overlooked.

Yes, I liked All Quiet on the Western Front and The Banshees of Inisherin, but I just liked them, not loved them. They are flawed but “enjoyable” movies, so I’m not going into Oscar night yearning for their recognition.

The ugly truth is that I am so indifferent to the Oscars this year, and have become so disenchanted with cinema, that I’m not even going to watch the ceremony, which will be a first for me in my adulthood. The reality is that I have much better things to do, sleep definitely among them, than watch a delusional industry give shitty movies awards for excellence.

That said, I will still fill out my Oscar picks and compete in my Oscar pool, which I have won for a record 34 years in a row. Will I continue my astonishing streak? Probably, but not because I have any clue who will win the awards but more because my competitors care even less than me so they have no clue.

Ok…so there’s my sad tale of disillusionment and disenchantment. Now let’s get on to my Oscar picks and put this terrible year in movies behind once and for all.

BEST PICTURE

Tar – A very flawed but fascinating character study that features the best scene of the year but also the worst third act.

The Fabelmans – An utter embarrassment of a movie. Is the cinematic equivalent of Spielberg soiling himself in public.

Everything Everywhere All at Once – A mildly interesting, pretty trite popcorn movie that has no business being nominated, nevermind the odds-on favorite.

All Quiet on the Western Front – A visually stirring anti-war epic when we need an anti-war epic most. Is the best made movie of the bunch.

Women Talking – This is a bad movie.

Triangle of Sadness – An ambitious and audacious social satire that is actually smarter than it appears at first glance.

Avatar the Way of Water – a big, blue billion-dollar behemoth that is almost instantly forgettable.

Top Gun Maverick – People’s love for this pile of poop astonishes me. It’s like people know it’s awful yet love it for its awfulness.

Elvis – An absurd piece of junk.

Banshees of Inisherin – A flawed but fascinating study of Irish masculinity.

This seems pretty set in stone…but I guess there’s a miniscule chance of an upset, which if it occurs would be All Quiet winning or maybe, maybe Tar.

Should Win: All Quiet on the Western Front/Banshees of Inisherin

Will Win: Everything Everywhere All At Once

BEST ACTOR

Austin Butler – Elvis – The kid is good as Elvis, really good. But it feels more like a lived-in imitation than a piece of acting.

Brendan Fraser – The Whale – The dirty little secret is that Fraser isn’t acting particularly well under that fat suit.

Colin Farrell – Banshees of Inisherin – Farrell has matured into a terrific actor and his work here is intricate and detailed.

Paul Mescal – Aftersun – I don’t get the hype over this kid.

Bill Nighy – Living – Nighy is great in general but I’ve not seen this movie.

This is one of the more up in the air awards of the night. A lot of people have Fraser winning but I just think there’s a ground swell for Austin Butler.

Should Win: Colin Farrell

Will Win: Austin Butler

BEST ACTRESS

Cate Blanchett – Tar – Blanchett is the best actress of her generation and absolutely crushes it in this movie.

Michelle Yeoh – EEAAO – She’s…fine.

Ana de Armas – Blonde – Starring in torture porn is tough work, but the reality is that Ana de Armas shouldn’t have been playing Marylin.

Andrea Riseborough – To Leslie – I like Andrea Riseborough but like the rest of the human race I’ve not seen this movie.

Michelle Williams – The Fabelmans – Williams is an at times pleasant actress but she is truly atrocious in The Fabelmans. This is bad. Really bad.

It seems the tide has turned against Blanchett and in favor of Yeoh. What can you do?

Should Win: Cate Blanchett

Will Win: Michelle Yeoh

SUPPORTING ACTOR

Brendan Gleeson – Banshees of Inisherin – Gleeson is an outstanding actor and he is terrific in this.

Barry Keoghan – Banshees – Keoghan is a little uneven in this role but he does bring it all together in the second best scene in the year in cinema.

Brian Tyree Henry – Causeway – This is a joke. This movie stunk and Henry wasn’t very good in it.

Judd Hirsch – The Fabelmans – A bloated cameo of dubious quality.

Ke Huy Quan – EEAAO – I never thought Quan could be as good as he is in this movie. A really remarkable performance.

Should Win: Gleeson, Keoghan, Quan

Will Win: Quan

SUPPORTING ACTRESS

Angela Bassett – Wakanda Forever – I don’t get it. This movie stinks and she is not good in it.

Hong Chau – The Whale – Another head-shaker…Chau was much better in The Menu than in this.

Kerry Condon – Banshees of Inisherin – A terrific and layered performance that perfectly captures the hell of Irish womanhood.

Jamie Lee Curtis – EEAAO – I actually really liked Curtis in this role.

Stephanie Hsu – EEAAO – I thought Hsu was ok.

It seemed like Angela Bassett was going to run away with it but the tide has turned in Jamie Lee’s favor.

Should Win: Kerry Condon

Will Win: Jamie Lee Curtis

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Banshees of Insherin – Terrific screenplay.

EEAAO – The film’s underlying philosophy is trite but it’s a sprawling story that eventually works.

The Fabelmans – This is junk. A dreadful script makes a dreadful movie.

Tar – A great forst two acts are scuttled by a rushed and unearned third act.

Triangle of Sadness – This script is fantastic.

This is sort of interesting as The Fabelmans may win because the Academy wants to reward Spielberg for his truly shitty autobiography. That said, I still think that EEAAO wins.

Should Win: Banshees of Inisherin

Will Win: Everything Everywhere All At Once

 ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

All Quiet on the Western Front – Not perfect but overall well executed.

Glass Onion – identical twins? Oh please. This script is dogshit.

Living – Haven’t seen it.

Top Gun Maverick – This is a joke.

Women Talking – Brutal.

The academy want to reward a woman and Sarah Polley fits the bill with her egregiously awful Woman Talking script.

Should Win: All Quiet on the Western Front

Will Win: Women Talking

BEST DIRECTOR

Martin McDonagh – Banshees of Inisherin – Nice to see McDonagh bounce back from the shit that was Three Billboards.

The Daniels – EEAAO – Not great but they somewhat pulled off an ambitious idea.

Steven Spielberg – The Fabelmans – This movie stinks so bad it shocked me that Spielberg released it.

Todd Field – Tar – Well directed but loses its grip in the third act.

Ruben Ostland – Triangle of Sadness – Shockingly well directed movie that in lesser hands would’ve been an absolute mess.

Should Win: Martin McDonagh

Will Win: The Daniels

BEST INTERNATIONAL FILM

All Quiet on the Western Front

Argentina, 1985

Close

EO

The Quiet Girl

Should Win: All Quiet on the Western Front

Will Win: All Quiet on the Western Front

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE FILM

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

Puss in Boots

The Sea Beast

Seeing Red

Should Win: Pinocchio

Will Win: Pinocchio – This is a terrific movie, one of the best of the year.

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE

All That Breathes

All the Beauty and the Bloodshed

Fire of Love

A House Made of Splinters

Navalny

Will Win: Navalny – Just feels like the academy will want to signal its virtue by thumbing their nose at the supposed Hitler du jour Vladimir Putin. How brave.

DOCUMENTARY SHORT

The Elephant Whisperers

Haulout

How Do You Measure a Year

The Martha Mitchell Effect

Stranger at the Gate

Will Win: Elephant Whisperers

LIVE ACTION SHORT

An irish Goodbye

Ivalu

Le pupille

Night Ride

The Red Suitcase

WILL WIN: Le pupille

ANIMATED SHORT

The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse

The Flying Sailor

Ice Merchants

My Year of Dicks

An Ostrich Told Me the World is Fake and I Think I Believe It

Will Win: The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse

ORIGINAL SCORE

All Quiet on the Western Front

Babylon

The Banshees of Inisherin

EEAAO

The Fabelmans

Will Win: All Quiet on the Western Front – The score of this film is crucial in setting the ominous and unsettling mood.

ORIGINAL SONG

Applause – Tell it Like a Woman

Hold My Hand - Top Gun Maverick

Lift Me Up - Wakanda Forever

Naatu Naatu - RRR

This is Life - EEAAO

Will Win: Naatu Naatu

PRODUCTION DESIGN

All Quiet on the Western Front

Avatar The Way of Water

Babylon

Elvis

The Fabelmans

Should Win: All Quiet on the Western Front

Will Win: Elvis – This is the type of movie that the Oscars reward.

BEST SOUND

All Quiet on the Western Front

Avatar the Way of Water

The Batman

Elvis

Top Gun Maverick

Will Win: Top Gun Maverick – This feels like the Academy throwing this fan favorite a bone.

 CINEMATOGRAPHY

All Quiet on the Western Front

Bardo

Elvis

Empire of Light

Tar

Will Win: All Quiet on the Western Front – Easily the best cinematography of the year.

COSTUME DESIGN

Babylon

Wakanda Forever

Elvis

EEAAO

Mrs Harris Goes to Paris

Will Win: Elvis – There’s a chance that Wakanda Forever or Babylon win, but it seems like Elvis will do well in these types of categories.

MAKEUP & HAIRSTYLE

All Quiet on the Western Front

The Batman

Wakanda Forever

Elvis

The Whale

Will Win: ElvisWakanda Forever is a real possibility but again, Elvis is adored for stuff like this.

FILM EDITING

Banshees of Inisherin

Elvis

EEAAO

Tar

Top Gun Maverick

Will Win: EEAAO – I actually thought the editing (or lack thereof) was one of the worst parts of EEAAO, but what the hell do I know?

VISUAL EFFECTS

All Quiet on the Western Front

Avatar The Way of Water

The Batman

Wakanda Forever

Top Gun Maverick

Will Win: Avatar the Way of Water – This is a bone thrown to big Jim Cameron for his money printing machine.

And thus concludes my Oscar picks. God willing every Oscar winner gets slapped on stage this year. If that happens then I promise I’ll actually watch the show next year. A man can dream.

©2023

Empire of Light: A Review - Empire Strikes Out

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Despite a cavalcade of top-notch talent working on this film the end result is little more than a muddled mess of a movie.

Empire of Light, written and directed by Academy Award winner Sam Mendes, attempts to tell the story of Hillary, a middle-aged woman struggling with mental illness who works at a seaside British cinema in 1980.

Empire of Light is the fourth, and thankfully final, film in what I call the Masturbatorial Manifesto Movie Quadrilogy of 2022. The other members of this awful foursome who made autobiographical, virtue signaling, ego/nostalgia driven films are Alejandro Inarritu with Bardo, James Gray with Armageddon Time and Steven Spielberg with The Fabelmans. All of these films are navel-gazing, self-serving stories about their directors past lives, social justice issues and the magic of cinema.

Of these four films, Empire of Light, which is currently streaming on HBO Max, is the most astounding, but not because it’s good…it certainly isn’t, in fact it’s downright dreadful. No, Empire of Light is astounding because it brought together a remarkable collection of talented individuals and all they could collectively produce was this really, really lousy movie.

For example, the film boasts not only Oscar winner Sam Mendes as writer/director, but also Oscar winning cinematographer Roger Deakins, as well as Oscar winning musicians Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, not to mention Oscar winning actors Olivia Colman and Colin Firth. This very impressive group combined to make a most unimpressive movie.

The problems with Empire of Light are numerous but the most egregious of them is the script by Mendes, which is all over the map. Mendes obviously wanted to make a movie about his real-life mother’s struggle with mental illness, which he did, but, like his predecessors Inarritu, Gray and Spielberg, he also wanted to cram in as much politically-correct social commentary as he could about a variety of topics, the most obvious of which in this case are sexism and racism.

Sexism and racism are perfectly fine and often remarkably compelling topics to feature in a film but in Empire of Light they feel artificially added-on and inorganic and this distracts from what could have been a very interesting character study with the sublime Olivia Colman at its center.

Instead, we get a scattered, paper-thin story about a mentally-ill white woman who is sexually exploited by her boss and who learns that racism exists in Margaret Thatcher’s Britain in 1980. How revelatory.

The racial angle in the film is so vapid and panders so aggressively as to be offensive. This racism narrative was so heavy-handed, so after-school special level unsophisticated, and so lacking in any nuance that it made me roll my eyes on numerous occasions to the point of near seizure.

Equally forced and lifeless is the love story between Hillary and her young black co-worker Stephen (Michael Ward). Ms. Colman is a marvelous actress and quite lovely but Michael Ward is a considerably younger and very handsome man and the pairing is never remotely believable nor well-explained. The two also lack chemistry and their relationship devoid of dynamism and this heightens the sense of their tryst being unbelievable, if not inconceivable.

Mendes, whose famous films include American Beauty, Road to Perdition and 1917, is a filmmaker I’ve never particularly enjoyed as I find him to be a middlebrow moviemaker masquerading as an arthouse auteur. Mendes comes from the theatre world and his movies often reflect that limitation as his scripts are too verbose and his stories too obvious, flat and literal.

On Empire of Light, Mendes gets lost in the throes of a victimhood narrative and social justice fantasy and ends up losing the vitality of what should be, but isn’t, the main thrust of the story, Hillary’s struggles.

Speaking of Hillary, Olivia Colman, who may be the best actress working right now, does excellent work in the role but is time and again undercut by the asinine script. Colman’s finest hour comes when Hillary loses grip on her mental health and dissolves into a raging madness that is visceral and combustible. But beyond that, Colman is too often stuck in an anemic narrative maze of Mendes’ making.

I’m a newcomer to Michael Ward, who plays Stephen, and found him to be a compelling and very pleasant screen presence, but he too is hamstrung by the clunky script and incessantly vapid cultural politics. Too often Stephen feels like little more than a black prop in a white woman’s journey to enlightenment on racial issues.

Colin Firth has a smaller role as the cinema’s manager Donald, and he does all the Colin Firth things you’d expect him to do, but he, like every other character in the film, never feels like a real person.

It must be said that the film is beautifully photographed, not surprising considering Roger Deakins is the cinematographer, but for all of Deakins’s coloring and camera wizardry, the film cannot be elevated.

As for Reznor and Ross’s soundtrack, it’s very reminiscent of their other stellar work but here it surprisingly underwhelms and feels a bit too derivative.

As a whole the film feels stridently antiseptic, allergic to drama, and relentlessly generic. For instance, the movie is set in the 1980’s and yet it never exploits that setting and fails to much look or feel like the 1980’s. It’s also set in a cinema and it fails to exploit that potentially dramatic setting as well as movies are never featured prominently or used effectively as a dramatic device. Truth be told the whole exercise is so devoid of any genuine place, people or purpose that it just feels very weird, dramatically disconnected and like a terrible waste of an opportunity.

Which brings us back again to Mendes’ script, which is also disconnected and disjointed to the point that it seems like nothing but a collection of random scenes and not a fully formed story.

The truth is that making a good movie, never mind a great one, is unconscionably difficult, and the fact that Oscar winning talents like Sam Mendes, Roger Deakins, Trent Reznor, Olivia Colman and Colin Firth all got together and made a piece of junk like Empire of Light, is proof of that. That Alejandro Inarritu, James Gray and Steven Spielberg all tried to make similar movies this past year and all fell flat on their faces too only further reinforces that fact.

Having seen all four of this year’s autobiographical ego/nostalgia movies, the most difficult thing to do is decide which one is the worst as they’re all truly terrible in their own special ways. Deciding which of these insipid movies is best is simply a physical and metaphysical impossibility.

In conclusion, Empire of Light is a messy, middling, misfire of a movie that you should skip entirely, just like Bardo, Armageddon Time and The Fabelmans.

Hopefully these navel-gazing, nostalgia-addicted auteurs have gotten their mindless Masturbatorial Manifesto Movies out of their systems so that we never have to see this type of shamelessly awful garbage again. These filmmakers are simply too good to waste their talents making such dull, derivative, sanctimonious, self-serving detritus as this.

Follow me on Twitter @MPMActingCo

©2023

The Whale: A Review - The Whale Beaches Itself on its Hyper-Theatricality

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. You’d be better off stuffing your pie-hole with guliver-expanding, artery-clogging garbage for two hours than watching this hyper-theatrical dud.

The Whale, written by Samuel D. Hunter (based upon his play of the same name) and directed by Darren Aronofsky, tells the story of Charlie, a morbidly obese online English professor suffering from congestive heart failure. The film stars Brendan Fraser, who was nominated for Best Actor at the Academy Awards for his work as Charlie, with supporting turns from Hong Chau, Sadie Sink and Samantha Morton.

The Whale is a comeback movie of sorts for both Brendan Fraser, whose career careened into oblivion as he aged out of being the handsome guy some years back, and Darren Aronofsky, who was once one of the most promising filmmakers of his generation but who has stumbled in his last two cinematic outings with the abysmal duds Noah (2014) and Mother! (2017).

The result of the comeback bid is a mixed bag as The Whale is a major disappointment of a film, and the blame for that lies squarely with Aronofsky and with Samuel Hunter’s script, but on the bright side, Brendan Fraser may just have rejuvenated his career with his sad sack, fat suit wearing performance in the movie.

I must say, I didn’t find anything cinematically redeeming in The Whale, not even Fraser’s performance, but I think Fraser has presented himself as a likeable person on the marketing and awards circuit and that may lead to future substantial work for him. Whether he’s up to the task in that work is certainly open for debate.

The Whale is a movie that yearns to be prestige but which is so theatrically written and executed that it feels like a very sub-par stage play from an overly confident, first-time playwrite you’d regret paying to see in some off-off-off Broadway hole in the wall.

The setting for the film is almost exclusively the dim confines of Charlie’s apartment. The action consists of his visitors, from his nurse Liz (Hing Chau), to a missionary named Thomas (Ty Simpkins) to his long-lost daughter Ellie (Sadie Sink) and ex-wife Mary (Samantha Morton), coming and going.

Due to Hunter’s cringe dialogue and Aronofsky’s stagey and/or laissez-faire direction, all of these actors give mannered and contrived performances. None of the characters they portray feel like real people, but rather like caricatures used solely as plot devices.

Sadie Sink is an actress I think has a very promising future, but her work as Ellie is so heightened and performative as to be distracting and laughable.

Hong Chau fares better than Sink but she too misses the mark with her incomprehensible Liz.

And Ty Simpkins’ character Thomas makes no sense and is a dramatic disaster, which is mostly due to the bad script but also aided by Simpkins’ tepid performance.

But the main failure on The Whale is Darren Aronofsky. Aronofsky’s direction is so awkward, clumsy and inept as to be disheartening. If I saw one more scene where a character walked to the door, then stopped and turned around and made some declaration…or walked to the door, opened it, stepped out, then stopped, turned around and made some declaration…or if I saw one more scene where a character crossed “the stage” and the camera counter-crossed…I was going to binge eat carbs until I spontaneously combusted.

In addition to that artless, theatrical staging, Aronofsky’s choice to confine most, but not all, of the action in Charlie’s apartment, but not limit the film’s perspective to just Charlie, is a grating and self-defeating one.

For this type of black box, arthouse movie to succeed, in needed to be a laser focused character study examining Charlie and his experiences alone. Instead, Aronofsky gives us side stories and scenes between undeveloped characters that feel like filler and dramatic distractions. These side-scenes drain any dramatic momentum the sorry story ever generated.

Aronofsky is a filmmaker I’ve long rooted for and admired. After seeing his first two films, Pi (1998) and Requiem for a Dream (2000), I thought he really had a chance to be a special artist.

Even his third film, The Fountain (2006), which was a more ambitious project but which ultimately failed, contained much promise and kept my hope alive.

His fourth and fifth films, The Wrestler (2008) and Black Swan (2010), seemed to indicate he had found his artistic groove and creative style with small budget, gritty character studies starring big name actors.

But then he went with a big budget project, Noah (2014), with Russell Crowe starring in the biblical epic. The result was a mammoth misfire both creatively and financially.

His follow up film was Mother! (2017), an ambitious and audacious meditation on humanity/horror story that was simultaneously too tightly and too loosely woven. Mother!, which was one of the more disorienting and aggravating movies in recent memory, was rightfully panned and flopped at the box office despite starring Jennifer Lawrence, who was maybe the biggest movie star in the world at the time.

And now we have The Whale. What is so disheartening about The Whale is not that it’s a misfire, but that it’s so poorly made as to be shocking. Aronofsky’s promising career has become as bloated and artistically unhealthy as the morbidly obese, compulsive eater Charlie. It’s difficult to imagine Aronofsky righting the ship after three cinematic disasters in a row, but who knows? I certainly hope he does, but I’m not optimistic.

As for Brendan Fraser as Charlie, he is…fine. Fraser has the requisite sad eyes to engender pity beneath his enormous fat suit, but beyond that he doesn’t really bring much to the table.

The thing that is lost amongst the recent Fraser renaissance, is that he was never a good actor to begin with. His claim to fame is playing empty-headed lugs and second-rate action-hero roles. He isn’t exactly Olivier, and this fact makes me think his sympathy-fueled comeback will be short-lived.

That said, he has a legit chance to win a Best Actor Oscar, and that should at least help him to make a living in the next couple of years. Does he deserve the award? Frankly…no. But most people who win Oscars don’t deserve them either…what can you do?

In conclusion, The Whale is another in an expanding list of recent sub-par Darren Aronofsky films as well as another in a gargantuan line of awful movies from 2022. I watched this movie so you don’t have to…and trust me, you really don’t have to.

©2023

Women Talking: A Review - Women Talking Has Nothing Interesting To Say

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

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A poorly written script and ham-handed direction are the lowlights in this movie more interested in promoting its agenda than cultivating its drama.

The past year, a most dismal one in terms of cinema (and most everything else), gifted us two films with the least tantalizing titles since Freddie Got Fingered and Breakin 2: Electric Boogaloo, with She Said and Women Talking.

Those titles conjure in the mind visions of nagging, navel-gazing shrews waxing rhapsodic about their sacred victimhood and pugilistically and pedantically pontificating about the inherent toxicity of masculinity. Not surprisingly, both films fervently live up to that expectation.

But that’s not all She Said and Women Talking have in common. Both were written, directed and star women. Both movies feature top-notch actresses. Both tell stories from a rigidly female perspective about abuse at the hands of men. Both movies are unabashed “agenda” films which emphasize ideology above artistry. And both films are Oscar-bait geared toward a very limited audience consisting of devout members of the #MeToo/neo-feminist cult who unquestioningly adore the film’s trite cultural/political ideology.

Unfortunately, what the two films also have in common is that regardless of their cultural/political messaging, they are truly abysmal cinematic works. To be fair, Women Talking is the better of the two movies, but that isn’t saying much as She Said is a cataclysmically awful movie.

Women Talking, which is written and directed by Sarah Polley and is based on the 2018 novel of the same name by Miriam Toews, tells the story of the women in an isolated Mennonite community secretly meeting to discuss the sexual abuse they’ve all endured over the years at the hands of the community’s men, and what to do about it.

The women believe their three options are to do nothing, stay and fight or leave the community en masse. They argue the pros and cons of each position and then vote. The vote ends up in a tie…so we are subjected to even more debate.

The film, which is nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards and is not yet available on a streaming service, stars Rooney Mara, Claire Foy, Jesse Buckley and Frances McDormand among many others, and each of them play characters that are supposed to embody various feminine archetypes in this struggle.

Rooney Mara’s Ona, is a wise waif, gentle and spiritual. Claire Foy’s Salome is a mama bear. Jessie Buckley’s Mariche is the battered realist fueled by frustration and ferocity. Frances McDormand’s Janz is the withered veteran too old and bitter to envision a better future.

All of these women are terrific actresses, and yet, none of them give even remotely decent performances or are in the least believable in this film due to the extremely sub-par script, the result of which is that you don’t care about any of these characters.

The dialogue is painfully contrived, and feels like it’s nothing but a collection of ‘look-at-me-acting’ audition speeches totally devoid of genuine intent or believable context.

Another issue is that these characters, all of whom are illiterate, are somehow able to talk with the philosophical fluency of second-year Women’s Studies majors at Bryn Mawr, which makes suspension of disbelief a monumental hurdle to overcome.

None of the characters are dramatically consistent either as they fluctuate between their beliefs like Kardashians shopping for shoes. There’s also no actual confrontation or conflagration during this important debate, just staged, rather showy but decidedly flaccid speeches followed by petulant walking away or a clamoring of voices silenced by one sole voice rising above the din. I guess this is supposed to show that women aren’t aggressive and therefore are superior to men, but all it really shows is that drama is dead with no genuine conflict.

It's also rather odd considering the film is about a group of women in a religious community, that the notions of God and religion are conspicuously absent most of the time and on the rare occasion they are mentioned are quickly brushed aside. The religious aspect of this debate among the women should be the most powerful and imposing element, but writer/director Sarah Polley, who is an atheist, imposes her notion of religion as entirely irrelevant onto the proceedings.  

Director Polley is a critical darling for a variety of reasons, but her work on Women Talking exposes her as quite the cinematic charlatan. Critics fawned over her films Away from Her (2006)and Take This Waltz (2011) despite both films being second and third-rate, self-indulgent exercises. Polley’s documentary Stories We Tell (2012) is a much more interesting piece of work but it too is also saddled with a relentless self-indulgence that reduces its power.

The main criticism voiced by the few critics who dare speak against Women Talking is that it’s visually not vibrant. It’s true that Luc Montpellier’s cinematography uses a desaturated and very muted visual style some find ugly, but I thought it was beautiful in its own stark way. And I actually found this visual approach to be the most interesting thing about the film because it was a coherent choice to reflect the setting and sub-text of the drama.

That said, this movie pushes the boundaries of reality with a plot point that includes one of the longest “golden hours” (which means the time after the sun sets but the sky is still bright enough to shoot a movie) in living memory.

As for Polley’s script and her direction, it is egregiously theatrical in style and is so lacking in subtlety and so heavy-handed that it ultimately feels like nothing more than a cheap agenda movie that only cares about its politics and not its drama.

A major example of this is that there is a trans character inserted into the film that is completely superfluous and does nothing but distract from the drama and narrative. This character, a female to male trans person, is so traumatized by the sexual abuse she suffers that she becomes not only a man named Melvin, but mute to boot. Although that sounds like a joke, I’m not kidding. What makes it even funnier than a trans man who is mute by choice is that Melvin is only mute with adults, but speaks freely with kids…and then with adults when necessary. Look, if you’re gonna have a mute trans man in a movie, for drama’s sake you got to commit to the muteness full-time, not have them be half-mute or mute by convenience. The preceding is a sentence I never in my wildest dreams imagined I’d ever write…welcome to post-modern America.  

Another example of the film’s skewed storytelling and perspective is that there is one single, solitary man in the whole movie, and his name is August and he is played by Ben Whishaw. August is such a weepy, whiny, weak-kneed eunuch as to be astounding if not embarrassing. August isn’t just anti-toxic-masculinity, he is allergic to all masculinity to the point of absurdist comedy. That August’s presence is just another piece of political theatre meant to satiate the man-hating in the audience by showing them that even anti-toxic men are repulsive, is obvious.

The irony of this man-hating is that Melvin, the trans-man, is not considered to be a “real-man” and is lumped in with the women by all the women, which no doubt will infuriate some of the more strident of the politically-correct, JK Rowling-hating, realism-averse viewers…such is the peril of incessant box-checking when making a movie.

What is so grating is that the endless, mindless, feminist pablum spewed in this movie isn’t insightful, it isn’t revelatory and it isn’t dramatically compelling. It is contrived, manufactured, phony cultural posing that might have been topical and/or interesting in 1992…maybe.

This type of sub-par, propagandistic liberal/feminist agenda movie is no different than those atrocious bullshit conservative agenda movies like the ridiculous Kirk Cameron “Jesus is Real!” pieces of garbage, or 13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi, or the shitty Chris Kyle hagiography American Sniper.

These are all bad movies and just because you like their politics doesn’t make them good. Of course, critics and the Academy Awards agree with the politics of Women Talking so they turn a blind eye to the poor writing, directing and acting and mute their criticism in order to signal their virtue and tribal affiliation. I am under no such obligation. I made my bones savaging shitty movies from across the political spectrum, and Women Talking is a shitty movie that thinks it’s brave and courageous for placing a well-worn flag on top of a secured hill in friendly territory in the forever culture war.

The bottom line is that Women Talking, or as I prefer to call it The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Mennonite Sisterhood or The Mennonite Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, is a dramatically dull, dreadfully amateurish movie that feels like every suburban high school stage play defiantly put on by the school’s drama-nerd girl group. It’s the cinematic equivalent of a shallow, adolescent, emotionalist, feminist rant from a fragile fool who thinks they’re a courageous hero because they wear an “I’m with Her” oversized t-shirt with Lululemon leggings.

The truth is that Women Talking should’ve taken trans Melvin’s approach and just stopped talking because it had absolutely nothing interesting or original to say.

Follow me on Twitter @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota - Episode 93: The Fabelmans

On this episode, Barry and I put on see-through nightgowns and dance poorly in the glow of a campfire and car headlights as we break down Steven Spielberg's Oscar nominated, autobiographical movie The Fabelmans. Topics discussed include the perils of autobiography, the Oscars and the abysmal year in movies, and Spielberg's shocking cinematic decline.

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota - Episode 93: The Fabelmans

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever - Marvel Misses Again

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

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A bloated and bland mess of a movie that is firmly in the bottom tier of the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, the sequel to the billion-dollar blockbuster Marvel movie Black Panther (2018), premiered in theatres back on November 11th, and is now available on Disney Plus, and I just watched it and have some thoughts.

The Marvel Cinematic Universe has been in steep decline since the glory days of late last decade when Infinity War (2018) and Endgame (2019) both made over two billion dollars in back-to-back years.

Since that creative and financial high point Marvel has stumbled and bumbled by churning out a plethora of abysmal movies, like Black Widow, Eternals and Shang-Chi, that featured second and third-rate characters, all of which underperformed at the box office.

Even the most financially successful movie of this era (I’m not counting the Spider-Man movies which are Sony/Marvel movies and not Disney/Marvel movies), Dr. Strange in the Multiverse of Madness, which made over $900 million at the box office, was a pretty awful affair.

In reading the tea leaves it seemed to me that the key film in judging the overall creative and financial health of the MCU going forward would be Taika Waititi’s Thor: Love and Thunder which hit theatres this past Summer. Thor: Love and Thunder was the sequel to Waititi’s glorious Thor: Ragnarok, one of the very best Marvel movies ever made. If any movie was going to stop the bleeding at Marvel it would be Love and Thunder. And then I saw Love and Thunder.

Love and Thunder did not stop the bleeding. It was just as awful as the rest of the post-Endgame Disney/Marvel movies, and it massively underperformed at the box office, bringing in just $761 million on a bloated $250 million budget. Not good.

After Love and Thunder failed, the next big Marvel bellwether, if not its backstop, was the highly anticipated Black Panther: Wakanda Forever. Unfortunately for Marvel, I can report that Wakanda Forever didn’t stop the bleeding either.

Wakanda Forever, directed and co-written by the same man who made the original, Ryan Coogler, did do better than Love and Thunder, but it didn’t do much better as it made $842 million on a $250 million budget. Compared to the original Black Panther, which made $1.38 billion and garnered an Oscar nomination for Best Picture, Wakanda Forever massively under-performed financially, to the tune of nearly half a billion less than the original.

An easy explanation for that precipitous box office drop-off is that Black Panther starred Chadwick Boseman – who tragically died of cancer in 2020. The great hurdle for Wakanda Forever to overcome was the loss of Boseman who was slated to star in the film. After his death Ryan Coogler and Disney shifted gears and, instead of recasting another actor as Black Panther, came up with a story not just in Boseman’s absence but which is centered around his absence.

Chadwick Boseman certainly seemed like a very nice guy but I never found him to be very charismatic or compelling on-screen, even in the original Black Panther, my review of which I think stands up quite well five years later. While Black Panther with Boseman felt charisma-challenged to me, Wakanda Forever without Boseman is like a black hole of anti-charisma that sucks all light and life into its darkness leaving behind a dull, dismal and distinctly lifeless-void.

The convoluted plot of Wakanda Forever revolves around the death of King T’Challa (Boseman) and how it effects his sister Shuri (Letitia Wright), his mother Ramonda (Angela Bassett), and the people of Wakanda.

On top of King T’Challa’s death, Wakanda and its royal family are confronted by the superhero/supervillain Namor, a flying Aquaman type guy who is king of the Talokan people, who live deep in the sea as a result of European colonialism in Latin America. Sigh.

Through an incoherent course of events Namor looks to ally with Wakanda to create an alliance of anti-oppressors, but in turn he demands that a brilliant, young, African-American girl from Chicago who is studying at MIT, Riri Williams, be killed first because she developed a special machine, the only one of its kind, that can detect vibranium – the stuff that makes Wakanda superior and which was just discovered deep in the ocean near Talokan. Shuri and Queen Ramonda balk at Namor’s Riri killing proposal and try to protect her, which puts Wakanda at war with Talokan.

The result of all of this is foolishness is that Wakanda Forever is a bloated, bland and boring two-hours and forty minutes long. It’s action and fight sequences are uncomfortably amateurish. It’s CGI is second, if not third-rate. Its cinematography is stilted and flat. And its script and narrative are embarrassing and incorrigibly trite. Besides that, how was the play Mrs. Lincoln?

In keeping with the tedious and relentless Disney/Marvel agenda, race and gender swapping is rampant in Wakanda Forever. Namor in the Marvel comics is a white/Atlantean/Asian guy, but in the movie, he has been remade – or race-swapped, into an indigenous Central American god who loathes the European colonizers who killed his culture and family. Yawn.

Then there’s Riri Williams, who is basically a black girl Iron Man with her own Iron Man suit to boot. And to no one’s surprise, the new Black Panther is a black woman too, as Shuri dons the new Black Panther outfit. You go girls!!

The recent spate of Marvel films and tv shows have all centered women and women of color, and all the white male characters have been replaced with either women, minorities or women minorities…and frankly, they have all suffered for it.

Thankfully there is a white guy in Wakanda Forever, he’s the flaccid, cuckold CIA agent (Martin Freeman) who gets duped by his much smarter and more powerful ex-wife (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss). Down with the patriarchy!!

All of this agenda driven nonsense wouldn’t concern me in the least, it really wouldn’t, if the movie was at least well-made and/or mildly entertaining. It is neither. It is, at best, a middling, lower-level Marvel movie. It’s better than Eternals, but that’s not exactly a high bar.

As for the performances, they are for the most part underwhelming.

Angela Bassett has been nominated for a Best Supporting Actress Academy Award for her work as grief-stricken mother Queen Ramonda. Bassett is…fine. She’s always a very compelling screen presence and I’m sure she’ll win the Oscar and I’ll be happy for her because she seems like a good person, but I’m not so sure she deserves it for this role.

Letitia Wright as Shuri on the other hand is an absolute mystery to me. I thought she was terrible in Black Panther and I find her equally terrible in this. First off, she’s playing a teenager/young woman and yet she looks like she’s in her mid-fifties. Secondly, she is so devoid of magnetism she might as well be invisible.

Dominique Thorne is another mystery. Her work as Riri Williams is so shallow and predictable as to be caricature. Her acting is of the tired style that has become so common nowadays – where preening and posing passes for artistry. Hopefully Thorne will grow out of pretending and mugging for the camera and actually start acting.

Tenoch Huerta Mejia plays Namor and is completely lifeless. For a guy fueled by revenge he’s got nothing going on behind his eyes. It would also be a good idea if you’re going to play a superhero/villain to maybe hit the gym for a bit, especially if you’re going to be shirtless for the entirety of the movie. Tough to suspend disbelief when some doughy son of a bitch is trying to pass himself off as some super strong being. Hell, if doughy dudes could be superheroes…I’d be the fucking Hulk, Wolverine and Thor combined. Meija is so doughy they would’ve been better off casting the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Man in the role of Namor, but that would never have been allowed because that fat sack of shit is too white.

On the bright side in regards to Wakanda Forever, I thought showing only Chadwick Boseman as Black Panther in the Marvel Title Sequence – which usually features all the superheroes, was a classy tribute. On the other hand, the film’s use of Boseman’s death to promote itself and generate ticket sales feels exploitative to me. I understand that it’s a tough tightrope to walk…I’m just uncomfortable with that type of thing.  

Another issue that Wakanda Forever brings up for me is in regards to writer/director Ryan Coogler. It seems pretty obvious at this point that Coogler, despite his promising start with Fruitvale Station, is simply not a good filmmaker. I’ll be interested to see what he does now and if he moves away from these franchise films – something he’d be wise to do. But I wonder if the protective bubble of franchise films is protecting him and deflecting criticism of his ability. Regardless, he’s not done anything good since Fruitvale Station.

The bottom line regarding Black Panther: Wakanda Forever is that it is just another in the long line of recent Marvel movies to be utterly and entirely forgettable. There really is no need whatsoever for you waste your time and see this movie, even for “free” on Disney Plus.

At this point, after the failures of Love and Thunder and Wakanda Forever, the Marvel Cinematic Universe feels mortally wounded and I’m having a difficult time imaging a scenario where it rebounds from the dual plagues of audience Marvel fatigue and Disney/Marvel’s creative bankruptcy.

In terms of the future, Marvel seems to be going all in on the woke agenda stuff, which, love it or loathe it, has proven over and over again to be toxic to large swaths of the viewing public, most notably the most rabid and die-hard of Marvel fans.

The biggest problem though is that regardless of any political and cultural messages ingrained into Marvel movies, if the movies themselves and the characters they feature are not high quality and compelling, then they will quickly become entirely irrelevant in the blink of an eye. Black Panther: Wakanda Forever is stark proof of that.

 Follow me on Twitter @MPMActingCo

©2023

The Fabelmans: A Review - The Naked Truth Is That Emperor Spielberg Has No Clothes

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

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A terrible, self-indulgent, truly awful film that features poor performances, an abysmal script, and dreadful direction.

This past year has been a boon for self-indulgent film directors and a bane for movie audiences, as auteurs have shat out a bevy of sub-par autobiographical movies about their childhoods and the magic of cinema.

First there was Alejandro G. Inarritu’s atrocious Bardo, followed quickly by James Gray’s artistically anemic Armageddon Time, and then there was Sam Mendes’ universally panned Empire of Light (which, to be fair, is less blatantly autobiographical), and finally there is Steven Spielberg’s The Fabelmans.

I’ve seen all of the above except for Empire of Light. What has been alarming is that each of these films I have seen has gotten progressively worse than the one I saw before it. Armageddon Time is shlocky, politically correct garbage, but Bardo is simply an astonishing cinematic atrocity. Bardo is supremely awful, but it’s at least visually and narratively ambitious if not audacious, which is in stark contrast to Spielberg’s newest flatulent film The Fabelmans.

The Fabelmans describes itself as a coming-of-age drama, co-written by Spielberg and Tony Kushner, that chronicles aspiring filmmaker Sam Fabelman (a stand in for Spielberg), a precocious young man in love with moviemaking, as he navigates his childhood and teen years growing up with a scientific father, Burt, and an artistic mother, Mitzi.

The Fabelmans is easily the worst of the Spielberg’s late-stage movies, which is quite an accomplishment considering the garbage he’s churned out over the last twenty years or so. This film is, quite frankly, so bad as to be an utter embarrassment. I watched a screener of the movie with my wife and we laughed out loud numerous times AT the movie, but never with it. The movie is such an amateurish, after-school special level production that we literally stopped it on multiple occasions and turned to each other and asked “what the fuck?”

At one point in the film, aspiring director Sam Fabelman is watching the footage of a movie he’s shot with his Boy Scout troop, and he shakes his head and mutters to himself in disappointment, “Fake. Totally fake.” Too bad Spielberg didn’t have the same discerning eye at 76 that he did when he was 14 as The Fabelmans rings so egregiously phony that I actually pondered “how could Spielberg watch this and agree to release it?”

There are so many scenes and sequences in this movie that are simply mindboggling for how appallingly awful they are. Just when you think the worst scene is behind you a new cinematic and dramatic atrocity steps in to take its place.

There’s the dinner scene which is staged and acted like the worst high school play you’ve ever had the displeasure to endure. Then there’s the masturbatorial scenes where audiences of Boy Scouts and family are overly amazed to the point of ecstasy at Sam Fabelman’s “brilliant” movies that aren’t brilliant. And then there’s the ultimate cringe worthy scene where Mitzi Fabelman does her best Corky St. Clair “Penny for your Thoughts” from Waiting for Guffman imitation as she “dances” in a see-through nightgown in front of a campfire and car headlights while on a camping trip.

Then there’s the scene where Sam edits the footage of this camping trip and discovers a family “secret”, which is shot like it’s from a bad pre-teen show on Disney Channel. Then there’s the scene where family friend Benny gives a camera to Sam as a going away present, which is staged with all the grace of monkeys having a shit fight at the zoo. Then there’s the scenes of gay, neo-Nazi, Schindler’s List wannabe, anti-Semites who bully Sam in high school which all feel like they’re from the worst episode of Happy Days you’ve ever seen. And on and on and on.

There is literally only one scene in the entire film which crackles with any life or dynamism, and that’s the last scene of the movie. This exuberant scene only goes to remind how badly mismanaged the dismal and dull preceding two-hours and thirty-minutes truly were.

Spielberg has always been addled by his addiction to a saccharine sentimentality, and The Fabelmans is no exception, except here the sentimentality is, to reference another Christopher Guest movie, turned all the way up to 11. Unfortunately, this sentimentality has blinded Spielberg to the stark lack of craftsmanship across the board in this movie.

John Williams score and Janusz Kaminski’s cinematography are banal, underwhelming and shockingly second-rate. Tony Kushner’s (and Spielberg’s) script is so inelegant and so lacking in cohesiveness and humanity, as to be cinematic malpractice.

Speaking of cinematic malpractice, there’s a scene in the film where Judd Hirsch, who compellingly plays a sort of crazy-genius grand-uncle, is spewing contrived pieces of wisdom to young Sammy Fabelman, and yet throughout the scene you can see his mic pack bulging through his wife beater t-shirt. This is a $40 million movie, not some $1,200 student film…how the hell does that level of shoddiness make it to the screen?

The performances are just as abominable as the rest of the work on the film.

Michelle Williams is an actress I like, but her Mitzi, featuring a haircut from hell, is one of the most hollow, disingenuous and grating pieces of acting I’ve witnessed in recent years. Everything is so mannered and so contrived that it feels like watching a toddler ham it up in grandma’s clothes to entertain the family after rowdy Thanksgiving dinner.

Paul Dano is an actor I greatly admire, but his performance in The Fabelmans is so vacuous and devoid of any inner life or intention as to be remarkable. Dano is dead-eyed as he mechanically utters his lines like he’s auditioning for a job at either a wax museum or a mausoleum.

And just when you thought the acting couldn’t get any worse…Seth Rogan shows up. Good lord. Seth Rogan is to acting what a dirty diaper is to ambience.

On top of all the bad acting, every character is extremely unlikable (the same is true in Armageddon Time and Bardo…why are director’s families so repulsive?). Early in the film, Mitzi, for some incoherent reason, drives the family towards a tornado and all I could do was hope that they would all be thrown miles away and end up a red stain on the dashboard. Once that didn’t happen, I was left praying for a pack of coyotes to come along and maul them all in their sleep, or a gas leak or a septic tank explosion, to take them out and put me out of my misery.

There’s also a very strange and frankly very ugly strain of anti-Christian sentiment that rears its head about two thirds of the way through the film. I’m not someone who ever cares about this sort of thing but Spielberg goes out of his way to demean and belittle a Christian character in the movie, and explicitly mock her religion. The treatment of this girl and her Christianity is nasty and mean-spirited and totally out of place with the tone of the rest of the film. It’s the equivalent of what the gay Neo-Nazi anti-Semites do to the Sam Fabelman character when they call him ‘Bagelman’ and demand he apologize for killing Christ. In other words, it isn’t clever or insightful or amusing, it’s just vicious and small-minded. That Spielberg, who is allegedly a man of faith (he’s made quite a show of his connection to Judaism over the years), would demean, disparage and denigrate the lone character of a differing faith in his film and gleefully embrace this repellent but culturally acceptable prejudice, speaks volumes about his lack of character.

The Fabelmans has been a major box office flop, as it has only made $25 million against a $40 million budget. But Spielberg didn’t make this movie to make money, he made it to win an Oscar….and he might just succeed.

It's a testament to Spielberg’s iron grip on Hollywood that this movie, this dreadful, no-good, really bad movie, is nominated for Best Picture and Best Director, as well as Best Actress (Michelle Williams) and Best Supporting Actor (Judd Hirsch).

Spielberg’s power over Hollywood and the lack of intellectual integrity among critics, also accounts for why the movie is adored by most critics (92% critical score Rotten Tomatoes). But don’t be fooled by the vacuous opinions of these sycophants and philistines.

The reality is that the once great Emperor Spielberg, who gave us cinematic marvels like Jaws, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Raiders of the Lost Ark, E.T., Jurassic Park, Schindler’s List and Catch Me If You Can, has no clothes.

The naked truth for all to see but few will admit, is that The Fabelmans is an embarrassing and humiliating failure of a film. To claim otherwise is either dishonest, delusional, or both.

©2023

Avatar: The Way of Water - A Review - Blue is the Dullest Color

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

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. An underwhelming, unneeded sequel that is just as forgettable as the original. It’s time to close Pandora’s box.

One need to look no further than the box office and Oscar ballot to understand why we are doomed as a nation, a civilization, and a species.

In the last year, two movies dominated that speak volumes about the monumental moronity of the masses. First there was Top Gun: Maverick, a hellaciously stupid, completely unnecessary, thirty-five years too late, second-rate sequel to the gay-themed, feature film Pentagon commercial that was the original Top Gun (1986). Maverick has made over a billion dollars since it premiered in May of 2022 and just got nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards.  

And there’s also Avatar: The Way of Water, a ten-years too late sequel to a movie everyone saw but nobody remembers – Avatar (2011). The Way of Water is a three-hour and fifteen-minute middling monstrosity that has made over two billion dollars at the box office and also been nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars.

After going to the movie theatre to see Maverick like a sucker, I promised myself I wouldn’t do the same for The Way of Water. I figured if writer/director James Cameron wanted to vomit out retreads of his immensely uninteresting Avatar world onto to audiences for the rest of his career, he could do it without my twenty bucks.

But since I am a tremendous big shot in Hollywood, I recently got a screener of The Way of Water and in service to you dear reader, I decided to watch it and review it.

To give context to my thoughts on The Way of Water, let me just briefly recap my feelings on the original Avatar. Basically, I thought it was an instantly forgettable, painfully dull venture that was dreadfully written and looked like a high-end videogame. I never watched it again after seeing it in the theatre, and never thought about it and never had any interest in a sequel.

Which brings us to…the sequel.

Avatar: The Way of Water is even more dreadfully written, even more forgettable and an even more dull movie than the original. It is a putrid and puerile piece of pissant moviemaking that serves no purpose whatsoever.

Unlike say the money printing machines that are the Star Wars or Marvel movies, Avatar has no compelling underlying mythology that can enrich and elevate its pedestrian story. Instead the film franchise attempts to satiate the viewer’s need for psychologically rich archetypes and mythology with vapid, vacuous, trite and insipid American cultural politics.

Speaking of the story, the plot of The Way of Water is as flaccid as the one in the original Avatar. On the planet Pandora (not to be confused with the music streaming service), Jake Sully, a former disabled human Marine and current Na’vi leader, husband and father, must protect his Na’vi family from the evil of human militarism and colonialism.

Sully’s old Marine unit was wiped out in the original Avatar – don’t worry I didn’t remember that either, but all are back now with their consciousness implanted into newly lab-grown Na’vi. So all those old, completely forgettable characters you didn’t remember from the original are back!!

In order to protect his family, which consists of his wife, two teenage boys, one teenage girl, and a younger kid whose gender I cannot for the life of me remember, Sully takes them away from the Omatikaya - forest Na’vi, and to the Metkayina - water Na’vi.

The movie is mostly a teen angst drama revolving around the struggles of the Sully kids to fit in with the water Na’vi, surrounded by predictable battle scenes between good guys and bad guys.

Here’s the thing, The Way of Water is like every bad teenage angst movie ever made, but cliched characters speaking bad dialogue don’t magically become interesting just because their skin is blue. And make no mistake, teenagers are no less annoying when they’re blue either.

The movie at one point feels like Blue Rebel Without a Cause, with Sully’s middle son Lo’ak as bargain basement James Dean and a four eyed whale as Sal Mineo’s Plato.

The movie has lots of scenes of laughing at people trying to learn new skills, like when the Metkayina teens mock the Sully kids for struggling to learn how-to-live in water, and when Spider – a human child raised by the Na’vi, laughs at the reincarnated Marine Colonel now trying to live in his new Na’vi body. Everybody laughs except for those watching.

Speaking of Spider, he’s like every dreadlock wearing white kid who thinks he’s black, as well as every skateboarding douchebag who thinks he’s interesting and tough. To say that Spider is the most annoying and embarrassing character to hit the big screen in ages would be a massive understatement.

As for the women in The Way of Water…they are all Na’vi and they are all repellant, hyper-emotionalist shrews of the highest order. If I wanted to spend hours on end with grating hags, I would’ve stayed married to my first, second or fourth wife (FYI…my third wife, Barbarella, was an angel…who unfortunately died from injuries sustained in a freak pole dancing accident - RIP).

The cast of The Way of Water, which include Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldana, Sigourney Weaver, Kate Winslet and Stephen Lang are tough to judge because they’re basically animated blue beings. No one sounds very believable or anything, but acting in CGI isn’t exactly easy.

Edie Falco, plays General Ardmore, one of the few actual human characters, and as much as I love Edie Falco and respect her as an actress, she is actively awful in this movie.

Jack Champion, who plays Spider, is just atrocious as well.

As for the most important part of The Way of Water…how it looks…I have to say that it looks…fine. Granted, I didn’t see it on the big screen and watched a digital screener on my rather big tv, so my opinion on the visuals is to be taken with a gigantic grain of salt. I will say this though, a movie having nothing going for it except that it looks like a fantastically high-end video game, is not a very strong argument that it’s a good movie.

The bottom line is that Avatar: The Way of Water is a very long, very boring and banal, very derivative and dull cinematic venture. James Cameron has made some great, and I mean great, movies. Both Terminator films are absolutely fantastic, and Aliens (1986), True Lies and even The Abyss, are flawed but exceedingly well-made, entertaining films. That said, Cameron will no doubt make a bazillion dollars with his Avatar franchise, but he won’t make anything artistically or cinematically worthwhile, which is a shame and feels like a waste of his talents.

Which brings me to my final point. Top Gun: Maverick and Avatar: The Way of Water, are two movies that aren’t original and aren’t good, and yet they’ve dominated the culture for the last year. The fact that there are people out there who think these movies are awesome is a strong indicator that America is a country and empire is steep and steady decline.

Culture is the canary in the coalmine, and with Maverick and The Way of Water, that poor son of a bitch of a bird is down in the darkness, flat on his back in the muck and the mire, wheezing his last bitter breath.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 92 - Oscar Nominations

On this episode Barry and I share our thoughts on this year's Oscar nominations. Topics discussed include the sorry state of the Oscars which reflects the sorry state of cinema, and the underwhelming nominations in an underwhelming year. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 92 - Oscar Nominations

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Bardo, False Chroncile of a Handful of Truths: A Review - Inarritu's Head Up Inarritu's Ass

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A self-aggrandizing, self-pitying, self-righteous, and self-indulgent…not to mention pretentious, piece of crap.

In case you’d forgotten, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu has won two Best Director Academy Awards – for Birdman and The Revenant, which puts him in some very rarified air. To put into context, Martin Scorsese and Francis Ford Coppola have one Best Directing Oscar each, and Stanley Kubrick and Robert Altman have none.

I readily admit that I enjoyed Birdman (2014) and thought it was clever, and in hindsight its critique of superhero culture was spot-on and before its time, but I also thought the film badly bungled its ending.

I thought The Revenant (2015) was a flawed film but was deeper than it appeared on the surface and became much more interesting when seen through Jungian dream analysis rather than through the pop culture lens.

Except for those two films, Inarritu’s filmography is littered with some truly abysmal and pretentious pieces of work. For example, Inarritu’s 2006 shlockfest Babel may be the worst ‘taken seriously’ movie of the 21st Century…and its main competition is another Inarritu movie, 2003’s 21 Grams.

Which brings us to Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths, Inarritu’s newest cinematic venture, which is currently streaming on Netflix.

Bardo, which was a Netflix production and hit the streaming service October 27th, was written and directed by Inarritu and stars Daniel Giminez Cacho and Griselda Siciliani.

The movie, which describes itself as an epic black comedy-drama, is a fictional, pseudo-autobiographical story that chronicles Silverio Gama – a sort of stand in for Inarritu himself, as he navigates his life as a big-time journalist and documentarian who immigrated from Mexico to the U.S.

Gama wrestles with his career success, his critics, his artistry, his family, his grief, and his past, as well as the past of Mexico and his guilt over having left the country of his birth. Of course, these are all the same things with which Inarritu grapples.

Bardo, which runs two hours and forty minutes, is another in a bevy of films this year made by auteurs examining their own lives in feature films. For example, I recently reviewed Armageddon Time, James Gray’s dismal autobiographical effort, and I’ve yet to see Spielberg’s The Fabelmans or Sam Mendes’ Empire of Light.

I will say this about The Fabelmans and Empire of Light…it is absolutely impossible for them to be worse than Bardo. Bardo is bad-o. Really bad-o. Like excruciatingly bad-o. Like so bad it makes the awful Armageddon Time feel like Citizen Kane.

Bardo, which has a grueling two-hour and forty-minute run time, is somewhat remarkable as it’s simultaneously self-aggrandizing, self-pitying, self-righteous, and self-indulgent.

The problem with Bardo is not cinematic incompetence on the part of Inarritu. If Inarritu is anything it’s competent. He knows how to shoot a film and make beautiful images – and he’s aided in this effort by cinematographer Darius Khondji (who…curiously, also shot Armageddon Time – poor bastard). What Inarritu doesn’t know how to do is turn off his ego and turn down his adolescent maudlin impulses in order to tell a coherent and compelling story.

Bardo is supposed to be infused with magical realism but is devoid of magic and allergic to realism. In their stead Inarritu injects an extraordinary lack of subtlety and pronounced heavy-handedness as well as a steaming hot serving of middlebrow bourgeois bullshit philosophy.

This movie is, without exaggeration, literally a director bitching about how persecuted he is by critics, how envied he is by jealous less successful people, and imagining how devastated everyone will be when he dies. This is more akin to something a petulant teenager would dream up as they cry in their bedroom after their parents refused to buy them a sports car for their sixteenth birthday than something an adult filmmaker should put in a feature.

To give you an indication of what an absolute shitshow Bardo is, consider this…the film features a graphic scene where a baby is literally pushed back into a vagina, and another scene where Gama’s adult face is CGI’d onto a little kid as he has a discussion with his father in a sort of dream like sequence. Did I mention it was heavy-handed? Yikes!

In addition to all of that self-serving navel gazing, Inarritu also throws colonialism and anti-Mexican racism shit against the wall to see if any of it sticks…and none of it does.

Then there’s the virtuoso filmmaking stuff, like the extended, one-shot dance scene, which I was supposed to be impressed by but which I wasn’t impressed by.

What’s astonishing about Bardo is that Inarritu has made himself the hero of the story but only succeeds in exposing himself as being relentlessly unlikable. The Inarritu character Gama is one of the most punchable people to have graced the silver screen this year, and maybe this decade.

Even the film’s more interesting visual sequences, like when people start dropping dead in Mexico City, is derivative. I saw the same sequence done better in a Radiohead music video nearly thirty years ago.

Speaking of derivative, it seems to me that with Bardo Inarritu was trying to copy/emulate his fellow Mexican director Alfonso Cuaron’s film Roma (2018), and maybe even Terrence Malick’s Knight of Cups (2015). Roma is a brilliant, magical realist, autobiographical story about growing up in Mexico, and Knight of Cups is, in my opinion, a dreamlike masterpiece about navigating the hell of Hollywood and moviemaking.

The problem though is that Inarritu is no Cuaron and no Malick. He lacks their deftness, their depth and their profundity. Inarritu is an artistic poseur. A pretentious pretender who thinks cinematically pouting and preening is equivalent to being profound.

What is bothersome about Inarritu’s failure on Bardo is that we are witnessing the end of the auteur era at Netflix. The streaming giant in recent years made the decision to throw money at auteurs and let them do what they want. In the case of Cuaron, David Fincher and Martin Scorsese, that decision was cinematically fruitful as it gave us Roma, Mank and The Irishman. This year the two auteurs blessed by Netflix’s desire for prestige were Noah Baumbach and Inarritu, and they delivered the excrement filled dump-trucks that were White Noise and Bardo. It should not be a shock that Netflix announced this year that they will no longer throw money at auteurs…thanks Baumbach and Inarritu.

The bottom line is that Bardo may finally expose Inarritu for the philosophically trite filmmaking fraud that he is. His elevation to the heights of Hollywood success is more a testament to the buffoonery of the movie business than to the artistic genius of Inarritu.

Whatever one may think of Inarritu as a filmmaker, there is simply no denying that Bardo is an artistic catastrophe of epic proportions. This movie is nothing but a vacuous, vapid and vain exercise in cinematic masturbation. Avoid it at all costs.

©2023

Armageddon Time: A Review - Portrait of the Artist as a Stupid and Boring Child

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

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT.  A sanctimonious, self-pitying and tedious tale of childhood turmoil in 1980’s New York. Move along, absolutely nothing worthwhile to see here.

There has been a spate of semi-autobiographical films this year where filmmakers navel-gaze and examine not only their childhood and how they ended up behind the camera, but also the “magic of cinema”.

There’s Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu’s Bardo, Spielberg’s The Fabelmans, to a lesser degree Sam Mendes’ Empire of Light, and finally James Gray’s Armageddon Time.

Of these four I’ve only seen Bardo (I’ve yet to publish my review) and now Armageddon Time, but I can report that thus far this genre of film is proving itself to be a calamitous cavalcade of cinematic crap.

Armageddon Time, which was released in October to dismal box office returns, is not only directed but also written by James Gray. While I respect James Gray as a visual artist, his movies have always been more miss than hit for me. I find his films, which include Little Odessa, The Yard, We Own the Night, Two Lovers, The Immigrant, and Lost City of Z, to be beautiful and tantalizing but mostly noble failures that never quite coalesce. The notable exception being 2019’s Ad Astra, which I thought was a truly stunning and insightful piece of work. Unfortunately, Armageddon Time is anything but stunning and insightful. I would in fact, put Armageddon Time at the very bottom of the list when judging Gray’s filmography.  

The autobiographical movie tells the story of Paul Graff (a stand in for Gray) and his tumultuous Autumn of 1980 when he attends sixth grade in a public school in Queens, New York. Paul’s family is working-class Jewish with plumber father Irving (Jeremy Strong), PTA mother Esther (Anne Hathaway), and annoying older brother, Ted, who attends a tawny private school. Paul also has his maternal grandparents, most notably his immigrant grandfather Aaron (Anthony Hopkins), with whom he is particularly close.

Paul befriends a black student in his class, Johnny (Jaylin Webb), when they are both punished by their obnoxious teacher Mr. Turkeltaub. Johnny is being raised in poverty by his dementia-addled grandmother, and is doing sixth-grade for the second time. Mr. Turkeltaub has a particular dislike for Johnny and is harsher on him than on Paul.

The story goes from there as Paul and Johnny get into all sorts of trouble at school, and Paul navigates the consequences back home.

Armageddon Time, which is currently available on Video-on-Demand (I paid $5.99), is an interminably slow, sluggish, self-indulgent and self-pitying exercise in virtue signaling that rings hollow, phony and false on nearly every level.

The acting, with the notable exception of the magnificent Anthony Hopkins, is abysmal. Anne Hathaway and Jeremy Strong give cringe-worthy, Borscht Belt level performances as Paul’s parents.

The child actors, Banks Repeta as Paul and Jaylin Webb as Johnny, are tough to take, and certainly make the hour and fifty-five-minute runtime feel at least twice that long. Repeta’s Paul is completely unlikable and being in his presence for the length of the film is a struggle. To be fair to Repeta and Webb, their characters are so poorly written that asking them to fill them out seems unfair. Webb in particular is given short-shrift, as Johnny is reduced to the sort of one-dimensional, sad-sack, black martyr/messiah stereotype that is both dreadfully dull and diabolically dehumanizing.

Hopkins is the only actor who gives a grounded performance and generates a character that seems like a real person. His Aaron is like a supernova shining brilliantly as it enters its final stage of life. Hopkins ability to elevate material, and to give poorly written characters a deep and compelling inner-life, is remarkable.

One of the biggest problems with Armageddon Time is that its politics, which are decidedly neo-liberal and Manichean, are relentlessly heavy-handed, trite and vacuous, not to mention omnipresent.

For example, there’s a whole secondary story line involving…God help us… the Trump family, with the loathsome Fred Trump (the Donald’s father) front and center, that is so ridiculously ham-fisted that every time it rears its ugly head it feels like the Evel Knievel over Snake Canyon of shark jumps.

The film’s racial politics are equally bromidic, as they’re so paternalistic and condescending as to be offensive. Ultimately the film and its racial politics ends up being little more than a testament to the fact that an artist’s white guilt is an insidious, narcissistic cancer that generates egregiously insipid and vapid art.

The movie is so patronizing and supercilious it’s like a multi-million-dollar colonial style home in a tawny, minority-free neighborhood that has a “Black Lives Matter” sign in its impeccably-landscaped-by-underpaid-Mexican-illegal-immigrants front lawn.

Gray is Jewish, which is why it’s so confusing that he makes viewers feel like a bored parish priest listening to his confession about other people’s impure racial thoughts.

James Gray went to USC’s School of Cinematic Arts, one of the most prestigious and elitist film schools in the world, made his first feature at age 25, and has had a stellar career working with great actors despite rarely having a hit, it seems that he got everything he ever wanted…so the question becomes…why all the masturbatorial bitching?

The reality is that the artist is never as interesting as his art, or as interesting as he thinks he is…which is why Armageddon Time feels more like a misguided tantrum from a spoiled child grown old than a piece of introspective cinematic art from an artist trying to understand himself.

The bottom line is that Armageddon Time is so sanctimonious and self-pitying, not to mention boring, banal and bland, that it will make you yearn for an actual Armageddon to put you out of your misery. Save your time and your money and skip this tedious tale.

©2023

She Said: A Review - Agenda is No Subsitute for Drama

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This absolutely awful, dreadfully dull, banal bore of a film is a muddled misfire.

I missed seeing She Said, the story of how New York Times investigative reporters Jodi Kantor and Meghan Twohey exposed the Harvey Weinstein scandal, when it premiered in theatres this past November. I wasn’t the only one not to see it as the movie was a major flop, bringing in only $12 million on a $32 million budget.

But She Said, which is based on the book of the same name and stars Carey Mulligan and Zoe Kazan, is now available to stream on Peacock and I just had the great displeasure of watching it.

This dreadfully dull movie is directed by a hapless Maria Schrader and written by an even more hapless Rebecca Lenkiewicz, and is a sort of procedural journalism drama minus the drama….and storytelling, and craftsmanship and skill.

She Said is what happens when a movie is all agenda and no drama or cinematic skill. It’s expected in this day and age that people – the “right-thinking people” anyway, will love this type of movie just because it exists and because it holds the correct cultural/political opinion.

Just so viewers know what the correct opinion is, the film gives them a totally ham-fisted scene early on where the two female reporters and their female editor go to a bar in the middle of the day to talk about the story they’re developing. At the bar a drunk thirty-something white frat bro tries to hit on them and Carey Mulligan’s Twohey defiantly stands up to him and shouts him down. You go girl!! The dude then stumbles away muttering about “frigid bitches”. Then Mulligan’s Twohey apologizes to the women she’s with, Kazan’s steely-eyed Kantor retorts, “don’t apologize.” So brave.

This scene is so bizarre, contrived and hackneyed it’s actually unintentionally hysterical. I mean, the scene opens with the waitress bringing over menus and placing them in front of the women and saying, “these are the menus!” That sort of clumsy, amateurish dialogue and blocking is omnipresent throughout She Said.

As for the drunk white thirty something frat bro, that day drinking, horny character is so obscenely absurd as to be ridiculous. But what makes that scene even more funny is that later in the film Twohey and Kantor strut down the street in New York in a long shot and they approach and then walk past two construction workers chatting next to a construction site. I fully expected a cat-calling scene and another Twohey “and then everyone clapped” superhero moment of standing up to predatory men, but then I noticed the construction workers weren’t white guys but minorities and I knew Twohey and Kantor were safe. And sure enough…they walk by unmolested! The lesson, as always, is that only white men are misogynists and sexual predators.

Critics of course are among that desperate-to-be-approved-of group who respond to this sort of vapid virtue signaling (because they do it so much themselves), and so they have written positively about the film because they know they’re supposed to. The paradigm in these situations becomes ‘if you dislike this movie then you love Harvey Weinstein!’, and critics on the whole are much too spineless to actually speak the truth about this movie and risk being seen as ‘bad people’.

She Said isn’t even really a movie, it’s a two-hour and ten-minute #MeToo virtue signal by the New York Times and the female filmmakers meant to extract money from ideologically enthralled fools in the audience and awards from similarly comported morons in Hollywood.

Journalism movies are no easy task. For every All the President’s Men and Spotlight, there’s something abysmal and trite like Spielberg’s The Post, but She Said makes The Post look like Citizen Kane.  

All of those journalism movies had the same obstacle to overcome as She Said, which is that audiences all know how it turns out in the end. We know The Washington Post nails Nixon Watergate, and that the Boston Globe publishes the sex abuse scandal articles, and in this case that The New York Times publishes and Weinstein gets busted.

But nothing is revealed in this movie that we didn’t already know about what the deplorable and disgusting rapist, brute and bully Weinstein was up to, and even the re-telling of known facts is so poorly pieced together as to be laughable. Hell, the biggest obstacle/villain in this movie is Ronan Farrow who might break the story before Twohey and Kantor. And the fact that Weinstein’s Israeli security team” was out committing crimes and intimidating witnesses and journalists is something She Said refuses to ever admit or acknowledge, is a pretty damning decision in terms of credibility.

In Spotlight, director Tom McCarthy, who isn’t exactly Orson Welles, uses some cinematic and dramatic flair when he crafts his story. For example, in one scene, three characters, two reporters and their editor, simply discuss the story they’re trying to crack, but they do it in a dimly lit basement library which smells because of a dead rat. The characters all comment on how dark and stinky it is and that is great sub-text because it informs both the scene and the overarching narrative of the movie. That scene construction is pretty simple, but nothing like that exists in She Said. Instead, She Said is a litany of women walking and talking on phones.

Another huge issue with the film is that it never clearly lays out the puzzle pieces the reporters must put together in order to “win” – which in this case means getting the story published, resulting in a terribly muddled and unsatisfying movie that have no pulse and no dynamism.

The cast of this film is a collection of very good actresses, but none of them do quality work in it.

I think very highly of Carey Mulligan, but her work as Meghan Twohey is embarrassing it’s so awful. Mulligan’s chesty American accent is tinny and her supposed profound girl power glares and glances laughable.

Zoe Kazan too is a terrific actress but she is as dead-eyed and dull in her role as Jodi Kantor as I’ve ever seen. At one point Kazan’s Kantor comes to life, which is when she bursts into tears when she learns a victim will go on the record against Weinstein. How professional!

Weinstein is not shown from the front in the film (although we hear his voice and see him from behind) because the filmmakers didn’t want to “center” him but preferred to “center” his victims, but the victims aren’t “centered” either. We learn next to nothing about anybody in this movie, and we certainly don’t care about anybody.

Actress Ashley Judd, one of Weinstein’s victims, plays herself in the movie and I understand why that happened, but that choice is undermined when other celebrities, like Gwyneth Paltrow, do not appear even though we hear their voices (I don’t know if it’s Gwyneth’s real voice or not).

The structure of the movie is nonsensical as well. We get flashbacks to a young Irish girl stumbling upon a movie set and later running down the street crying, and we get Meghan Twohey’s pregnancy and post-partum depression (spoiler alert - men are the cause of post-partum depression!!), before we ever get into the story, but none of this is cinematically coherent or narratively comprehensible.

Let me be as clear as I can about this…Harvey Weinstein and his ilk…like Matt Lauer, and Charlie Rose and Les Moonves and all the rest of the predatory douchebags who have long populated Hollywood and every other industry, should get the Vlad the Impaler treatment and have their eyes plucked out by ravens as they bleed to death out of their assholes.

Let me also clearly state that She Said is an absolutely awful, dreadfully dull, banal bore of a film that is a total waste of not only two hours and ten-minutes but also of a fascinating and important story.

She Said should’ve done for the Weinstein scandal what All the President’s Men did for Watergate and Spotlight did for the Catholic Church sex scandal. But due to abysmally poor directing, writing and acting, the movie is a gigantic failure. I guess all I can say is better luck next time. Maybe if they ever make a Ronan Farrow biopic – now that’s a compelling story, they’ll get a writer and director who have half a clue. Maybe, just maybe, they won’t fuck that one up. Oh, who am I kidding…they’ll definitely fuck that one up too.

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 91 - The Menu

On this episode, Barry and I indulge in a seven-course discussion about the dark horror/comedy The Menu, starring Ralph Fiennes and Anya Taylor-Joy. Topics debated include the difficulty of making foodie movies and their deliciousness when they're well-done, the endangered adult-oriented mid-budget movie, and the glory of pizza with peanut butter cups. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 91 - The Menu

Thank you for listening!

©2023

The Menu: A Review - A Deliciously Dark Comedy/Horror Experience

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

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. A clever, entertaining and darkly comedic swipe at foodie culture that is buoyed by solid performances.

A lot of people seem to love the Knives Out movies and often describe the reason for doing so being that the movies are “fun”. These people of course are unrepentant philistines and incorrigible buffoons as both Knives Out movies are utterly appalling and are the antithesis of entertaining.

The Menu on the other hand, is exactly what the Knives Out movies should be but aren’t, as it’s clever, funny, dark and above all else, entertaining.

The Menu, which is currently streaming on HBO Max and is still playing in some theatres, stars Ralph Fiennes and Anya Taylor Joy and chronicles a collection of rich assholes and food snobs as they shell out big bucks to attend an exclusive restaurant on a secluded private island operated by celebrity chef Julian Slowik (Fiennes).

The prestigious dining experience is limited to just 11 people, and they are all sinners in one form or another. There are the three-frat boy/hedge fund crooks, the rich couple with the philandering husband, the narcissistic faded movie star (John Leguizamo) and his assistant, the big-time food critic (Janet McTeer) and her sycophantic editor (Paul Adelstein), and finally devout foodie Tyler (Nicholas Hoult) and his last-minute date Margot (Anya Taylor Joy).

Julian Slowik is less a chef than a cult leader, and his staff, most notably his maître d’ Elsa (Hong Chau) are a militant group committed to obeying his each and every command. On this particular night Chef Slowik, who despises both the uncouth and the too couth, has the ultimate menu prepared for his unsuspecting guests.

I’ll refrain from going any further in describing the plot but I will say that The Menu is sort of a comedy/horror/thriller that skewers foodie culture and keeps you guessing, and intrigued, from the get go.

The comparison to the most recent Knives Out movie Glass Onion, is obvious since the film begins with a group of pretty insufferable people going to a private island for a special dinner and then a whole bunch of stuff is revealed.

The difference between the two movies though is that The Menu is better crafted and considerably more effective due to a far superior script, direction and most of all, performances.

Anya Taylor Joy plays Margot, the protagonist of the story, and she is simply a very charismatic and magnetic screen presence. The luminous Taylor Joy knows how to fill a screen (despite the fact that she appears to have never eaten a cheeseburger in her life – which is a joke you’ll get once you see the movie) and how to tell a story with just a simple glance.

Taylor-Joy is aided by the sublime Nicholas Hoult. Hoult, who is absolutely spectacular on the Hulu series The Great, once again sparkles in The Menu as the dedicated, die-hard foodie. Hoult’s commitment to his comedy is unwavering, and he never winks at the camera and lets you know he’s in on the joke.

Ralph Fiennes has long been a superb actor, but in recent years he’s transitioned to roles in more broad-based movies, and The Menu fits him to a tee. Fiennes’ Chef is an artistic avenging angel, filled with copious amounts of self-righteousness and self-pity.

Janet McTeer, who was so good on Netflix’s Ozark, is terrific as the pompous, know-it-all food critic, and Paul Adelstein is a subtle scene stealer as her ass-kissing editor.

Usually when a movie features John Leguizamo, one of the worst and most annoying actors of his or any other generation, I either refuse to watch it or am resigned to hating it. The Menu is the lone exception because it uses Leguizamo’s repugnance as a feature not a bug by casting him as an annoying, has-been actor.

The Menu, which is written by Will Tracy and Seth Reiss and directed by Mark Mylod, isn’t a perfect film by any stretch of the imagination, but for what it is, it’s mostly well-done.

For example, the movie’s premise is very clever and its politics are clear but never heavy-handed, and to its great credit it never becomes self-indulgent are self-aware, which makes it devoid of preachiness and results in a rather enjoyable viewing experience.

The best part of the movie is that, unlike the Knives Out movies, it earns almost all of its moments, and never insults the intelligence of its audience because it takes its premise and its plot seriously and never diverges from that. There is a scene, in fact, where any questions about the reality and veracity of the scenario playing out in front of viewers is directly addressed, and it’s very smart.

Mark Mylod has mostly directed TV prior to The Menu, as his credits include a bevy of Shameless, Succession and Game of Thrones episodes. His direction on The Menu is solid but not spectacular, and he gets the job done with minimal flair.

While The Menu has some plot points that don’t quite work, and some characters that aren’t totally fully formed, and some performances that could maybe have used better actors (I’m mostly thinking about Reed Birney’s role of Richard – the cheating husband), overall, the film works as a compelling and amusing piece of entertainment.

If you’re looking for dark fun and some laughs at the expense of pretentious foodie culture and the uber-rich, then The Menu will be a tasty and very satisfying meal, I recommend you dig right in.

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 90 - Amsterdam

On this episode, Barry and I don our glass eyes and try to thwart a fascist coup as we discuss all things Amsterdam, the David O. Russell movie starring Christian Bale, Margot Robbie and John David Washington. Questions debated include…is David O. Russell officially a hack? Is John David Washington the worst working actor in Hollywood? What the hell is going on with Margot Robbie? And for how many decades has Robert DeNiro been mailing it in?

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 90 - Amsterdam

Thanks for listening!

©2023