Tag Archives: Drama

The Current War: Director’s Cut (2019): Power Games

After premiering at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2017 to negative reviews, The Current War: Director’s Cut has been overhauled with new scenes and editing that form an exciting historical rivalry. Thomas Edison (Benedict Cumberbatch; The Imitation Game) seeks to power the country with his patented direct current and uses his fame to spread the technology. His rival, George Westinghouse (Michael Shannon; Take Shelter), favors using alternating current for the distance it can travel and the two become locked in a battle to electrify the nation.

Despite its appearances, The Current War is not a lethargic period piece. The film moves at a brisk pace and never lingers too long on a single moment, ironic considering one of Westinghouse’s earliest inventions was a braking system. The camera is also always on the move tracking characters, often at oblique angles, and there is an interesting use of repeated cut-ins, timed rhythmically during pivotal decision moments, to add weight to situations. Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon (Me and Earl and the Dying Girl) never allows the period or its trappings to prevent the film from appealing to modern sensibilities.

In his portrayal of these pivotal historical figures, Gomez-Rejon is fairly kind. Cumberbatch, utilizing a slightly improved version of the annoyingly flat fake American accent from Doctor Strange, makes Edison a bit of an egotist, but not quite the ruthless businessman many accounts have described him as. He’s relentless in his pursuit and unwilling to conform to the ideas of others, but his moral digressions are shown as lapses in judgement caused by desperation rather than standard practice for his business. Even as he uses underhanded tactics to smear his opponent, he never becomes a villain.

Edison uses extravagant reveals to sell his technology while Westinghouse relies on plain economics and functionality.

Westinghouse, on the other side, is the practical industrialist. Shannon makes him seem like a no-nonsense proprietor who manages his affairs with integrity. Unlike Edison, he seems principled and focused on the work rather than its marketing. Where Edison will step into the spotlight, speak to reporters, and sign autographs, Westinghouse refrains from spectacle. In a crucial sales opportunity, he ignores any sort of demonstration and instead lets the buyers know his product is better and cheaper, hands them evidence, shakes their hands, and walks away. Shannon’s pragmatic gruffness and his laconic lines reveal Westinghouse to be the true lead of the movie, with a ethical code worth rooting for.

The film also features Nikola Tesla (Nicholas Hoult; About a Boy) in a minor role as a brilliant inventor that briefly works for Edison only to later develop a key technology for Westinghouse. His role in the real events may have been significant, but his limited screentime make him feel like an afterthought, used mostly for his now ubiquitous name recognition and for one particular line that winks directly at the audience.

The competition between Edison and Westinghouse becomes an exciting horse race. The men are shown as always being on the verge of winning the battle, but also precariously close to complete failure with media issues, personal problems, and financial worries constantly threatening to thwart their success. Their strategic moves, and their impulsive decisions, create an engaging chess match, even though the outcome of their rivalry is known. The Current War: Director’s Cut is an involving, bustling drama about two great titans of industry locked in a literal and figurative power game.

4/5 stars.

Pain and Glory (2019): Late-life Autofiction

With a filmography that spans almost  40 years and numerous genres, it could be said the Pedro Almodóvar (Talk to Her) is approaching the end of his career, but instead of retiring he has created a film that explores this very topic. Salvador (Antonio Banderas; The Mask of Zorro) is a famous director who has recently retired from filmmaking, citing his poor health. He decides to reconcile with the lead actor from an early film to appear together at a special screening and begins to recollect his childhood and the parts of his life that have shaped the man he is today as well as his life’s work.

As the director’s alter ego, Banderas is incredible. He sports a mostly-white beard and a tussled hairstyle mimicking Almodóvar’s own look, but his mood is his most striking feature. Banderas, now approaching  60, is no longer a young man, but in Pain and Glory he is weary beyond his years. He lists his various ailments that have left him unable to direct a feature and barely able to leave the house and it seems as if his life is coming to an end. He states that he doesn’t know what to do if he isn’t filming, but at the same time behaves as if he is a spent firework, lacking the necessary fuel to maintain a flame. Banderas brings an incredible restraint to his performance. Salvador tells his actor friend that actors shouldn’t cry and should instead be on the verge, fighting back the tears and he follows his own advice. When Salvador meets a former lover, the joy he feels from the reunion as well as the pain from knowing it will be short-lived are apparent in his watering eyes. The subtlety of Banderas’s performance adds integrity and humility to the material as Salvador is shown as a flawed and frail figure, grappling with his own existence.

Banderas displays complex emotions with ease.

Like most of Almodóvar’s work, Pain and Glory is filled with the bright hues of pop art. Salvador’s condo looks like it could be a museum with its vibrant decorations. His kitchen cabinets are bright red with contrasting teal tilework and most of the modern portion of the film shares this colorful palette, making even simple framings burst with style.

The beauty of this film is how its obscure subject matter becomes immensely relatable. As a personal memoir, it had the potential to become self-indulgent as Salvador’s mother tells him “I hate autofiction!”, but Pain and Glory never feels that way. Salvador’s unusual upbringing, living in an underground home in a small village or his immense success as a film director in his adult life are not experiences most people will relate to, but the emotions on display are so vivid that is impossible to not lose yourself within them. Each memory feels authentic, almost revelatory, as Salvador tries to understand himself through recollecting his childhood and it becomes clear that not only is this film part memoir, so is the majority of Almodóvar’s filmography. With Pain and Glory, Almodóvar has taken the deeply personal and transformed it into emotions that are universal, resulting in one of the most nuanced, and intensely felt films of his career.

4/5 stars.

Ad Astra (2019): Outer Space, Inner Self

Ad Astra is an original sci-fi title from indie filmmaker James Gray (The Lost City of Z) and one of the quietest studio films in years. In the near future, Roy McBride (Brad Pitt; The Tree of Life), a decorated astronaut, is called in for a classified mission. His father Clifford (Tommy Lee Jones; No Country for Old Men), a hero and space pioneer, was sent on a decades long mission to Neptune that went missing years ago. The government now believes that he may still be alive and that his ship may have something to do with the dangerous power surges wreaking havoc on Earth. They hope that Roy, as Clifford’s son, can contact him.

Gray’s depiction of space is merciless and worn. At this point in time, bases have been established on the moon and on Mars with even commercial travel available. These environments are nothing new and have lost their sense of wonder. They aren’t quite the grimy settings of Blade Runner, but space travel has become as mundane as an airplane trip and bases on the moon look like run down subway stations. Roy remarks that humans have created the very things they ran away from when leaving Earth. The main difference from life on Earth and life in space is the inherent danger it carries. The slightest mistake could lead to death in the harsh, unforgiving setting. The moon has unpatrolled areas, where travelers are at risk of attack, and the power surges mean spacecraft could malfunction at any time. It makes the film’s vision of the future both pragmatic and precarious.

This danger is further shown in the film’s setpieces. On Earth, on other planets, and in space, Ad Astra is not above thrilling its audience. Gray, a director not previously known for his action skills, stages each scene with intensity. Where other films like Gravity repeated similar scenarios to the point of diminishing returns, Ad Astra uses completely different perspectives for each climactic event. The action scenes feel original and perilous. Even when it’s clear something is about to go wrong, Gray does so with a completely shocking and unexpected danger that keep the sequence as fresh as it is deadly.

Pitt delivers a multilayerd, complex performance.

The majority of the film relies on Pitt’s performance and he is more than suited to the task. Pitt’s face dominates the screen and is a complex painting of emotion. He is at once calm and professional while still communicating the anxieties he hides underneath. Despite Roy’s incredible talents and feats across so many areas, he isn’t cocky. Pitt makes him a dutiful soldier, committed to his task above all else, including his own feelings. Within his always capable demeanor is sadness. There is an air of despair beneath Pitt’s performance and he tows the line between a firm external appearance and internal struggle in a way that would make Ryan Gosling jealous.

The film has a surprising amount of voiceover from Pitt that is used to contrast his inner feelings with his image. While it does provide needed insight into Roy’s state of mind, Gray is overreliant on this technique. The sheer amount of narration is intrusive and it prevents the audience from drawing their own conclusions as the narration loudly and frequently tells instead of letting the film’s visuals show Roy’s emotions.

While the title and plot may imply an outward focus, Gray’s interests are internal. On the outside, Roy is the ideal soldier. Characters comment on his unbreakable composure stating that he has never been recorded with a pulse over 80 beats per minute, even when his life was in danger. He is constantly facing psych evaluations, all of which point to a single desired ideal: cold, unfeeling stoicism. The ideal space explorer shows and feels no emotion and, on the surface, Roy meets this criteria, but he can’t reconcile these so-called virtues with his emotions. He still feels anxiety, still misses his father, still misses his wife, but is forced to compartmentalize these thoughts and numb himself to fit into the desired mold. Gray uses the film’s deliberate pace to linger on Pitt’s expressions and force the audience to evaluate them beyond his initial impression. The film becomes an exploration of how the ideal of a stalwart hero manifests in real life and the consequences and conflict it creates in those who strive for it. As Roy’s voyage continues, we see him grapple with these unattainable goals and Pitt’s inner turmoil is deeply moving, despite the overuse of voiceovers. With Ad Astra, Gray has created a thrilling, contemplative, and emotional outer space voyage to explore the inner self.

4/5 stars.

Tigers Are Not Afraid (2019): Drug War Fairy Tale

Tigers Are Not Afraid is the story of children caught in a world of violence. In an unnamed Mexican city, Estrella (Paola Lara), a young girl, returns home to find her mother missing. She lives in a area infested with drug-related crime and it’s implied that her mother was one of many abducted by gangs for human trafficking. She soon encounters a group of boys close to her age and follows them. Their leader, Shine (Juan Ramón López), has stolen a valuable item and reluctantly lets Estrella join their party as they flee a local drug lord.

Director Issa Lopez doesn’t shy away from the violence of the setting and anyone is a potential victim. The film opens with children hiding under their desks as gunfire erupts outside and it becomes clear that this is a frequent occurence. As Estrella waits at home, alone without her mom, we see her neighbors pack up and leave. The city becomes an abandoned, graffiti-ridden wasteland ruled by crime lords with little sympathy for the victims, even children. Lopez maintains the danger throughout the runtime with frequent deaths and a feeling of hopelessness. It doesn’t appear anyone has the ability, and potentially even the desire, to help the kids get to safety.

The city is a dilapidated ghost town.

The film falls into the category of magical realism. In the vein of Pan’s Labyrinth and last year’s Sicilian Ghost Story, it takes a horrific setting, cities ravaged by drug wars, and tells it from a child’s perspective. The boys, seeing the behavior of men and teenagers, try to act tough as their own gang. Shine repeats that Estrella isn’t strong enough to be with them, but it becomes immediately clear that he is only a boy with little real experience. The child’s viewpoint allows for small moments of joy in the difficult situation. Finding a soccer ball is enough cause to celebrate as the kids are able to momentarily forget about their situation. Despite their grim situation, they still have childish impulses.

Lopez uses elements of magical realism to guide the narrative and contextualize the events onscreen. Before any scene of violence, a trail of blood, moving in unnaturally perfect straight lines, enters the room. It’s a simple visual effect, but it carries a foreboding presence as it warns of what could possibly happen next. In the opening scene, Estrella is given three pieces of chalk by her teacher who tells her that each will grant her a wish. These wishes are then used as inflection points in the story. Each wish marks a major event that radically changes their journey. These wishes provide some solace to Estrella and give her young mind a way to understand the occurrences around her, but, for the audience, the wishes are moments of suspense where anything, good or bad, can happen.

Tigers Are Not Afraid becomes a visceral fairy tale. Its ending is a bit hokey, but the desperation the children feel is palpable and the way they make sense of the unjustifiable cruelty that surrounds them is authentic. Lopez shoots the horror of drug cartels through a child’s eye with a convincing vision of how young minds endure in a world without hope.

4/5 stars.

Wild Rose (2019): Three Chords and the Truth

In what has to be the strangest case of cultural appropriation, Glasgow, Scotland apparently has a country music scene. Rose-Lynn (Jessie Buckley; Beast) is a recently released convict hoping to become the next great country singer. She lives and breathes country music, is always seen listening (and singing to) the likes of Wynona Judd and Patty Griffin, and sings at a local country bar. She plans save up the money for a ticket to Nashville, Tennessee so she can make it big. In the meantime, she works as a maid for a wealthy woman.No love or knowledge of country music is needed from the audience. The genre is often derided for its references to tractors and pick-up trucks, but director Tom Harper (War & Peace) selects a variety of soulful tracks. The music is wistful and heartfelt with genuine longing and emotion underneath. Buckley, having placed second on a BBC talent show for her singing, has an incredible voice. Her vocals, especially with songs like “When I Reach the Place I’m Going”, capture her feeling of being out of place and the solace that music offers her. She says “I should have been born in America. I’m an American.” and after watching her perform, it’s hard to argue with her.

Rose-Lynn is, in no uncertain terms, a screwup. Despite her musical talent and fierce personality, she has made and continues to make many avoidable mistakes in her life. She’s a heavy drinker, quick to anger, and undisciplined. When her boss puts her on a train to London to meet with an industry insider, Rose-Lynn leaves her bags unattended so she can get drunk with other passengers and loses all her belongings. She has several shortsighted, self-destructive behaviors that undermine her chances of success.

Rose-Lynn’s children add a refreshing wrinkle to her story.

The most unique aspect of Rose-Lynn’s pursuits is her family life. Unlike most leads in a “follow your heart” type story, she has real responsibilities. She has two young children that her mother Marion (Julie Walters; Billy Elliot) has raised while she was incarcerated. Her daughter seems noticeably distant and likely resentful towards her mother for being absent from their lives and Marion has similar feelings. She wants her daughter to be the mother the children deserve, but Rose-Lynn is often irresponsible, making promises to her kids that she either forgets or ignores when her own priorities come up.

The tension between being a star and being a single mother is something that Harper keeps reinforcing. Many of Rose-Lynn’s potential big breaks directly conflict with her children’s needs and the humble, but stable life her mother wants for her. However, the film doesn’t fully address this issue and its finale, while heartwarming, is abrupt and sidesteps providing a viewpoint. Ultimately, Rose-Lynn’s story comes down to passion. She says she loves country because it is “Three Chords and the Truth” and the film succeeds based on the unbridled emotion Rose-Lynn brings with her music. There have been plenty of pop star rise-to-fame stories recently like A Star is Born, but Buckley’s winning performance and her character’s unique responsibilities are enough to distinguish Wild Rose and overcome its abrupt ending.

4/5 stars.

The Farewell (2019): Death & Family

A struggling artist in New York has her life disrupted when she is told that her beloved grandmother has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and only has a few months to live. Billi (Awkwafina; Crazy Rich Asians) learns, to her shock, that her parents are not going to tell her Nai Nai that she is sick. The thought of having cancer, her mother explains, is just as deadly as the disease. Lulu Wang (Posthumous) writes and directs the film based on her own personal experience.

For all her comedic roles to date, Awkwafina takes a terrific turn as a dramatic actor. Her Billi has a rebellious side, but is also compassionate and understandably confused by her family’s decision. She is most concerned for her grandmother’s welfare and her right to know the truth. Her parents advise her against visiting because she is too expressive, but it is that emotion that makes her so relatable. While the rest of the characters try to act as if nothing is wrong, it’s Billi’s empathy that the audience can identify with.

Wang is able to capture the complicated family dynamic. Nai Nai is the matriarch scolding everyone for any little detail while her sons (Billi’s dad and uncle) are deferential to her authority yet Billi’s mother holds some resentment towards Nai Nai for previous conflicts. Despite this being her own immediate family, Billi is somewhat of an outsider and Wang focuses on her attempt to navigate the social norms.

Nai Nai’s tough affection makes it clear why her family loves her so much.

There is an emphasis on the compassion that drives this act of deception. While it may seem dishonest to lie to a loved one about their health, Wang shows the sacrifice this requires of the family. In many ways, not telling Nai Nai is a way to spare her worrying, but at their own expense. They go to great lengths to keep up the façade, even hiring someone to alter the results of her medical tests, and the emotional toll is clear. The family is choosing the bear the burden of her condition so that she may enjoy her last months and is willing to let the knowledge of her fate eat at them as a way of respecting Nai Nai. In examining this difficult, but well-meaning decision, Wang shows the lengths we are willing to go to protect those we care about.

The film effectively balances drama with humor. Billi can be sarcastic and several of her family members are hilarious in their antics like a younger cousin who refuses to be called “little” anymore. Nai Nai is the source of most of the humor. She’s at an age and social status in her family where pleasantries are unnecessary and she is completely uninhibited when it comes to give her unsolicited opinions and telling others what they are doing wrong. She affectionately calls Billi “Stupid child!”, but her constant admonishing can’t hide her good heart underneath. There is a pervasive melancholy that hangs over the film’s lighter moments. Everything is bittersweet. Moments of humor are tinged with regret as the knowledge that these may be the last laughs they share with Nai Nai is never forgotten. Wang has taken a very personal, culturally-specific issue from her life and adapted it into a feature that has heart, humor, and compassion for the family’s dilemma.

4/5 stars.

In the Aisles (2019): Life and Love in a Supermarket

With books, we’re told to read between the lines, but when it comes to stores, it seems we need to look In the Aisles. Christian (Franz Rogowski; Transit) is a new hire at a large retailer. He is an extremely taciturn man, but a hard worker under the guidance of his assigned manager Bruno (Peter Kurth; A Heavy Heart). Soon after starting he encounters Marion (Sandra Hüller; Toni Erdmann), an employee in a different aisle, and develops feelings for her.

Director Thomas Stuber (Teenage Angst) immediately establishes the film’s most important character: the supermarket. The store is an enormous warehouse club and the camerawork always emphasizes its incredible size. The film’s opening shows the store’s night shift work and is set to the Blue Danube waltz, recalling the space stations from 2001: A Space Odyssey. Like outer space in 2001, the towering shelves and expansive aisles are a great unknown that the employees navigate in coordinated routines that are almost dance-like. Since Christian is on the night shift, the store is usually dimly lit, giving it a more bleak look than the overly bright areas shoppers are accustomed to.

There is a resigned hopelessness that hangs over the film. The characters shown aren’t upwardly mobile people trying to better themselves. They appear to be employees that follow the routine of their unglamorous jobs and have no plans to change. They aren’t ecstatic about their jobs, but they aren’t unhappy either. It’s more of a quiet acceptance that things will neither improve nor deteriorate and that their current stations in life are inescapable. This gives the atmosphere an oppressive quality, but there are still moments of modest joy.

Bruno’s affection for Christian is subtle, but sincere.

The store staff genuinely care for each other. They have long histories like family and have respect for each other. Bruno, as Christian’s boss and mentor, is a paternal figure that looks out for Christian and gently encourages him as he struggles with some of his tasks. The group celebrates together in holiday parties and suffers together in unfortunate circumstances. The permanence of their jobs means their connections are deep and closer to relatives than mere coworkers.

The relationship between Christian and Marion is only one part of Stuber’s focus. Christian’s inarticulate manners and his reserved demeanor are in stark contrast to Marion’s relative liveliness and his kind, subdued gestures towards her make for an endearing sight. While the film initially seems to be centered on their romance, it slowly reveals itself to be about the people of the store and what it means to them. Their jobs are mundane, repetitive, and don’t afford them any kind of lavish lifestyle, but it offers stability. The store’s familiarity brings solace and belonging to its staff, most of whom have little else outside of work. During the holidays, Christian lays in bed waiting for the store to reopen. Many will find the setting and characters banal and dreary and be put off by the film’s unhurried tempo, but there is a humble poignance to the characters’ lives. Stuber has captured a microcosm of souls locked in a monotonous, but sustainable existence. It may not be much, but the store and the routines and community that come with it provide enough simple meaning to their endure ordinary lives.

4/5 stars.

Long Day’s Journey Into Night (2019): A Dreamy and Mesmerizing Feat

There are movies that you try to piece together and there are movies that you give yourself over to. Long Day’s Journey Into Night is the latter. The film initially presents itself in the vein of a film noir. Luo Hongwu (Hang Jue), a middle aged man, returns to his hometown to look for a former lover (Tang Wei; Lust, Caution) who has never left his thoughts. But director Bi Gan (Kaili Blues) is not a traditional storyteller. He is more interested in Luo’s memories and emotions than anything else.

Anyone looking for an explicit narrative will be disappointed. As Luo looks for his former lover, the film constantly jumps around in the timeline. Establishing a chronology can be difficult outside of Luo’s graying hair and the narrative may leave some viewers perplexed. It has the unfortunate side effect of making the central relationship difficult to understand, but the structure is dictated by Luo’s state of mind. As a man searching for a connection to his past, the scenes play out like fragments of his memory triggered during his pursuit.

The dreamlike tone is accentuated throughout. Much of the film is shot at night with wet, reflective surfaces all around, establishing an ethereal atmosphere. Bi relies on the hushed tones of Luo’s voiceover rather than dialogue. His inner thoughts are poetic ruminations on memory and are a unique blend of Wong Kar-Wai, Terrence Malick, and Apichatpong Weerasethakul along with Bi’s own brand of introspection. It may test the patience of some, but the film’s deliberate pacing and mood are essential to its themes.

All of Bi’s framings have a pensive quality to them.

There’s been a lot of hype surrounding the film’s 1 hour long take and I’m pleased to say it deserves every bit of praise it has received. Long Day’s Journey Into Night is not a 3D film, as an opening title card states, but when Luo visits a local movie theater he puts on a pair of 3D glasses and the audience does as well. The following long take is nothing short of astounding. Bi orchestrates an extended sequence of mind-boggling complexity, recalling and even surpassing many famous long takes like the opening of Touch of Evil. The camera follows characters on vehicle, down a zipline, soars over a town center, and into many buildings. There are several actions during the take that would be perilous to completing the shot, like precise plays during a game of pool, and at some point it becomes the cinematic equivalent of watching a high-stakes tightrope walk.

That’s not to say that Bi uses his long shot as a gimmick. It’s an immersive, surreal experience, essentially a lucid dream. The camera floats around the events, observing from nearby in an almost out-of-body experience, like the roaming camerawork from Enter the Void. It further demonstrates the director’s enormous talent and serves as a fitting coda to a feature that has little interest in explicit plot. Bi ends his film with this astounding sequence that emphasizes the enveloping nature our subjective memory and the lasting impact it can create long after events have transpired. It’s an awe-inspiring feat that will mesmerize viewers willing to accept it on its own terms.

4/5 stars.

Dragged Across Concrete (2019): Quiet, Tense, and Detailed

With Dragged Across Concrete, S. Craig Zahler (Bone Tomehawk) wades into precarious subject matter. Fortunately, he has the talent to handle it with the gravitas it deserves. The film is split between two storylines. The first centers on two cops, Brett (Mel Gibson; Mad Max) and Anthony (Vince Vaughn; Brawl in Cell Block 99), that are put on administrative leave after a video of them “using too much brass” while arresting a drug dealer surfaces online. The second story follows two friends, Henry (Tory Kittles; Colony) and Biscuit (Michael Jai White; Black Dynamite), as they assist in a bank heist.

This is a movie that takes its time. The film runs nearly 2 hours 40 minutes yet doesn’t feel overlong. Zahler uses the runtime to invest in his characters. Where most directors would show Brett and Anthony on a single stakeout before the climactic action, Zahler chooses to show several. His screenplay exists in this repetition. He knows that it is these routines that allow viewers to understand how characters behave and how they relate to one another. He is also willing to spend significant screentime setting up a character and their motivations only to have them killed 15 minutes later because it give the violence impact. The attention to detail in how these characters live and what motivates them makes every minute engaging and every consequence significant.

Gibson and Vaughn have the natural chemistry of longtime partners.

For a film about police brutality, it isn’t as gruesome as the title suggests. The violence takes a step down compared to Zahler’s previous work and it’s a smart decision. Unlike his prior two films, this title is about an extremely sensitive topic that is affecting many Americans. There are moments where Brett and Anthony intimidate and rough up their suspects, but they are neither glorified nor condemned. The arrest that causes the police officers to get suspended is not nearly as violent as much of the real-life cell phone footage that circulates online. When they are called in to their chief’s office to discuss the incident, they plead their case. How can an entire career be judged on a 30 second video? Why is it that the impact of the drug dealer – and the impact of his arrest and actions allowed by the information he divulged – not a part of the discussion? Both of these are valid points and are expressed earnestly, although some of the lines appear to be not-so-subtle references to Gibson’s own history with audio recordings made public. In the case presented onscreen, they are questioning a man that is definitively guilty, but the film does not explore the ramifications of using the same level of force on an innocent man which is an important piece of the puzzle that is missing, but not to the detriment of the overall film.

Zahler applies the same attitude to the crimes committed by Henry and Biscuit. They each explain why they are resorting to theft and the film never judges them for it. This incredibly even-handed approach pays off immensely. It allows Zahler to tackle difficult and current subject matter without the flagrant messaging of a Spike Lee movie. If Zahler has any bias, it is towards his characters. They are written and portrayed with deep empathy for their situations and the actions they take given their limited choices. For a filmmaker known for genre films and excessive violence, Zahler has constructed a slow-burn procedural with a genuine compassion for its characters, regardless of their actions.

4/5 stars.

Rocketman (2019): Stylish, but Overly Familiar

After the gargantuan success of Bohemian Rhapsody, Rocketman is the latest attempt at a box office smash using the hit songs of a beloved artist. Produced by Elton John himself and directed by Dexter Fletcher (Eddie the Eagle), who stepped in to direct Bohemian Rhapsody when its original director was fired mid-production, the film opens with Elton John (Taron Egerton; Kingsman: The Secret Service) telling the story of his life at an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting.

Unlike most biopics about musicians, Rocketman is a full-on musical. Rather than reserving music for on-stage performances, the characters burst into song at any moment making the film feel like a jukebox musical in the vein of Mamma Mia!. The dance numbers are expansive with dozens of extras and a pace that distinguishes the film from others in the genre. The rapidly tracking camera and organized chaos of the backing dancers give these sequences a frantic energy that aligns with John’s rapid rise to fame. There are times when the musical segments are expected, during a key emotional moment for example, but Fletcher ingeniously transitions to song in several unexpected situations. The clever transitions and frenzied choreography add cinematic flair and keep the music visually interesting.

Bryce Dallas Howard is surprisingly perfect as John’s callous mother.

The basic plot is fairly standard. It’s amazing how so many one-of-a-kind superstars like Freddie Mercury and Elton John can have their life stories boiled down to essentially the same sequence of events. A child from a humble background exhibits preternatural musical talent, but is born into a conservative family that doesn’t fully approve of their passion and desired lifestyle. The child grows into an adult that meets key partners and quickly ascends into incredible success before falling prey to substance abuse only to apologize to their loved ones and redeem themselves around the 2 hour mark. There is nothing particularly surprising about what happens in Rocketman.

Within the usual story beats, Fletcher focuses on John’s unique problem. He continually emphasizes the lack of affection in John’s upbringing with a cold, distant father and an often cruel mother. As a child, he asks his father “When are you going to hug me?” and, more than anything else, this film is about a man in desperate need of a warm embrace. His later actions, and his mistakes, stem from his lack of love and, regardless of the success he achieves, the film cuts back to images of his younger, helpless self. But Fletcher doesn’t shy away from blaming John for his decisions. His erratic moods and mistreatment of those closest to him are his own undoing and Egerton grasps his spiral out of control. Edgerton carries John’s emotional pain in his performance and brings an exceptional singing voice as well. It’s a shame that the script doesn’t explore John’s enduring relationship with his co-writer Bernie Taupin (Jamie Bell; Billy Elliot) as this is a major and unique element to John’s story.

Rocketman delivers the extravagant musical setpieces worthy of Elton John, supported by a strong performance from Egerton, but is held back by its extremely familiar plotting.

3/5 stars.