New Movie Reviews (11.09.23)

Viewing new movies and writing capsule reviews at least once a month; award season is almost here. Here are thoughts on recently released films.

Preamble: I remember when I wrote down what I wanted to be when I grew up at a very young age. The first thing that came to mind was a weatherman due to my fascination with storms. I included a second choice: writer. Over the years, I’ve tried to keep writing, but other projects and jobs would be prioritized over the promise to continue my first passion. There’s always this sense that one will never get to be what they initially set out to be. And watching and reviewing movies feels trivial in the grand scheme of what’s going on in the world right now. Complicated feelings about so many things but I’m trying to focus on what helps me cope with the terror and dismay. 

There was a time when I thought I’d be a filmmaker or produce music in a band or for others. I realized that around my mid-30s, during a time I consider to be my first true existential crisis, a career is not only needed but would serve me well. I work better with structure, predetermined expectations and a set schedule. It’s strange to be freelance or even pursue film criticism as a career only because it would mean a certain level of discipline to sit down and write about everything I watch. 

Which brings me to the present: somehow, I’ve found a career I love but there’s been less time to devote to writing. Ideally, I would like to simply integrate everything: film criticism, writing, librarianship, podcasting, but I can only see a future where something has to get axed, or I could get burnt out / exhausted by having too much on my plate. But if there’s one thing I want to keep doing - it’s this Substack, because it harkens back to the original plan outside of meteorology or music production.

I wrote short stories as a young kid including one where I got to be friends with Punky Brewster. I owe it to that little boy to keep going - perhaps podcasting has to go, but I’m not ready to commit to that finality. I write this as an exercise in determination. Having subscribers helps but really, this might be a declaration to myself to not give up. Be sure to eat veggies, exercise and write. With all that out of the way, I think I can finally begin to share my thoughts on some recent releases especially since it feels like awards season is around the corner. So, let another round of capsule reviews begin!

All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt (dir. Raven Jackson)

There are a number of poetic films that are visual imprints of memory, indelible or ephemeral. The sounds of crickets and birds, flowing water and the wind in the long summer grass are only sporadically punctured by a song at a party, or a brief moment of a swelling score. Nature is practically the lead character in this sometimes-gorgeous representation of time and place. It feels like flipping through a photograph album of someone’s lived-in experiences. At its most sincere, movies can fully immerse you into how a character dreams or feels through visual language.

We witness a collection of personal moments in the life of Mack (Charleen McClure as an adult, Kaylee Nicole Johnson as a child), sometimes bouncing back and forth in time. There are long stretches where the camera lingers on a hug or hands, or the red painted toes of a mother at a party, the back of our heroine’s head, a fish on a table, a crying infant getting their first bath in a kitchen sink, or two sisters sitting on a porch, in silence, until one breaks into laughter. You can immediately sense this director is also a poet and photographer. Of course, a lot of moments bring to mind the work of Terrence Malick, but I also thought of Apichatpong Weerasethakul and Tarkovsky too. All of which have made films that lulled me to sleep. But this is not a bad thing. They tell stories that leave you in a trance to where you feel at peace. The motifs and associations of water and earth here are often a feast for the eyes but on a story-level, they don’t also progress much beneath the surface level.

Since there is very little plot or narrative drive, I did feel restless here and there for this film. Much like the work of those other filmmakers mentioned, this experience can put you into a meditative state or a calming glow. But for others, it could be a test of patience. For me it was a mix of both feelings throughout to where I’m in the middle. Sometimes I felt a sense of wonder at the imagery, other times wanting to see more than hands touching hands. However, the dancing scene at the beginning to "If I Were Your Woman" and the wedding scene makes this well-worth a look alone. This is undoubtedly a showcase of audacious ambition from a director with a lot of potential. All Dirt Roads Taste of Salt has a warm sense of intimacy, like we’re all at once getting not only a view of these people as they live, but an interior sense of actually being there. I wish I connected more strongly to what’s being presented here but I have no doubt that others will. I’m looking forward to what filmmaker Raven Jackson does next especially if there's more of a narrative-driven story at the center.

Fingernails (dir. Christos Nikou)

When I first heard about the concept of Fingernails, I was immediately intrigued. Not to mention the talented cast on board as well. In fact, when the film first starts with Jessie Buckley (currently one of my favorite actresses working today) singing along to “Total Eclipse of the Heart” in her car, I perked up with excitement. Certainly, this movie must be good if it chooses to open on that note?!

Sadly, it didn’t improve nor found a solid thesis on the complexities of love and the challenges that come with relationships. Exactly where/when is this taking place is a question in of itself, but these characters also don’t seem fully realized either. Anna (Buckley) and Amir (Riz Ahmed) exist into a retro futuristic society where a revolutionary test allows people to find out if their partners are actually their perfect love match. We certainly have the ability to do DNA testing or find out who we’re related to, so a premise likes this shows promise.

Introducing a fingernail from each lover into a microwave-looking machine, the test determines if they are really in love (100%), if they are not (0%) or if they fall into a dreadful third option which reveals only one person in the couple is really in love (50%), although it doesn't reveal which one. Entire institutes exist to help potential entrants succeed even utilizing various tests and compatibility programs as well.

Anna also has been in a long-term relationship with Ryan (Jeremy Allen White) since they both tested positive at 100%. The story seems to suggest that possibly, they are a bit detached from one another to where maybe the honeymoon phase has been over for quite some time. The testing measures whether couples are in love at the precise moment so what about two or three years from now? Some take the test every few years to make sure they’re in love (the possibility that two people could just know how they feel about each other naturally without a test seems to have not occurred to the filmmakers). Each time, you lose a fingernail.

Greek director Christos Nikou's first English-language film is meant to be a high-concept dark romance exploring emotions and navigating through different ones during the span of a relationship, a gentler answer to Yorgos Lanthimos' the Lobster that feels both melancholic and strangely shallow. In comparison to the work of Charlie Kaufman, the characters in his films I grow to empathize with even if they are solipsistic and unhappy. With Fingernails, it’s hard to engage or care about the fate of Anna and Amir even if both actors are giving it their all and convey longing and desire. If you’re a fan of the cast, your interest will be held but I wouldn’t be surprised if you experience little to no connection to the story itself. In a film about something as layered and overwhelming as love and desire, it’s not a good sign that you don’t experience any feeling whatsoever watching this letdown of a film.

The Holdovers (dir. Alexander Payne)

The Holdovers, one of the year’s best films, is set in 1970 and assumes the tone and style of that era, from its opening credits (and studio logo introductions) to its grainy visuals and cornucopia of formal devices, including omnipresent transitional fades and slow zooms across rooms and through city streets toward (and, in one amusing instance, away from) characters. We see all the opening credits in full as well. Tone management is a huge part of the filmmaking process and Payne does it so well throughout nearly every one of his films (Downsizing excluded). In the end, this movie is a whole lot more than just another simple sentiment of “try a little tenderness.”

Christmas break is about to start for students at a prestigious academy, though curmudgeon Paul Hunham (the reliably great Paul Giamatti), an arrogant hangnail of an ancient civilizations’ teacher, is determined to make the day as miserable as possible for everyone. Paul is tasked to look after those who are unable to go home for the holiday season. Initially, it’s a group of a few students but then some are whisked away to enjoy a stay up in the mountains. This leaves Hunham and the rather angered Angus Tully (Dominic Sessa), whom Hunham has in his Greek history class, the Barton cook Mary (Da'Vine Joy Randolph) and custodian Danny (Naheem Garcia). Teacher Lydia Crane (Carrie Preston) is local, so they encounter her in town and invited to a Christmas party that goes awry as expected. It all culminates into different learning to function together, navigating through dysfunction in a way that seems like indie-film cliche territory. Payne continues to subvert and surprise all the while.

Fractious relationships between privileged high school students and frustrated adults are not a new subject for Payne; that notion was also at the core of his great 1999 comedy Election. Prep schools do serve as a great microcosm for the larger world as well as a heightened version of universal experiences. Memorably Payne is able to capture small-town life and the difficulties people face when dealing with contrasting personality types. Inevitably, they attempt to form connections and look past differences. Though things don’t always turn out well regardless. The outside world has other plans. Unlike Fingernails, here the characters feel truly three-dimensional and lived in. They have a lot of flaws and issues hidden away but little things keep causing them to rise to the surface. Giamatti certainly can pull off this kind of complicated humanity in his sleep - Hunham definitely feels like an extension of American Splendor and Sideways. As great as he is, the standouts are those around him, particularly newcomer Sessa and the delightful Da’Vine Joy Randolph. Every scene with the three of them is a gem.

The more I think about The Holdovers, the more it grows in estimation. At first viewing, it did feel a little long for an indie dramedy. But there’s no denying the Hal Ashby influence at play here. Payne for me still made his best work early on with his first three features but this does feel like a true return-to-form. It’s certainly his strongest film since Sideways so perhaps Giamatti and him just make a perfect team. In 1970, Hollywood regularly made movies like The Holdovers; stately sweet character studies about difficult misfits and dropouts finding common ground. The Holdovers is my kind of melancholic Christmas story since it almost feels more like a live-action adult version of what Charlie Brown goes through: depression, rejection though hopefully finding hope despite all the hardships and heartaches that life seems to keep dishing out. Payne knows these people inside and out and by the end, we do too.

Footnote: This film was shot in 35mm and looks incredible regardless, but I highly recommend (if you live in Chicago) to see it at the Music Box Theatre because it is playing in 35mm, and I guarantee it’s an even better experience than the multiplex.

Paper Planes (dir. Michael Glover Smith, Alyssa Thordarson)

Speaking of Christmas stories with strong characters, here’s one that I highly recommend when it gets a proper release and/or plays at a festival near you. It is short, sweet, unassuming, anchored by two lovely performances from gifted actors. I was lucky enough to catch this when it played virtually through Mental Filmness. And if you’re local here in Chicago, you’ll get another chance to see it in about a month!

The plot is simple: A young woman with agoraphobia and the Airbnb guest across the hall strike up a correspondence that becomes something more for the holidays. That correspondence, as you might guess, starts out as the title suggests: paper planes. Then it becomes more connective through inviting body language and comfortable dialogue. It starts outside open doors and then they begin hanging out. It’s clear the two of them might both feel lonely around the holidays and experience gratitude that at least they have made time to find one another for consolation. Maybe it’ll develop further, and I wouldn’t spoil one of the more beautiful moments late in the film.

Paper Planes was co-directed by Michael Smith and Alyssa Thordarson, who are both active and acclaimed throughout the independent filmmaking scene here in Chicago. I had the pleasure of talking with Michael Smith on my podcast about his most recent feature, Relative. Not only that, but last Alyssa’s collaboration with Clare Cooney, the terrific After (A Love Story) was one of the best short films I’ve seen in quite a while. Thordarson’s talent as a writer, director and performer are all on display here. There is a natural sensitivity conveyed in her characterization of Jo that never feels forced, but genuine. Shaina Schrooten as the anxiety-ridden Rachel is also memorable and relatable as she struggles to get outside of her comfort zone (her own home/space).

Much like The Holdovers also showcases with a compassion eye, lots of people are alone and vulnerable during Christmas. It’s not easy to reach out and meet others - whether you have agoraphobia or not. Rachel in this is never reduced to someone who is asking for pity. She’s not one-dimensional or defined by her mental illness which is refreshing to see since that would be such an easy route for a writer to take. It’s clear that this is more or less an extension of the kind of work that Nora Ephron would create, and Paper Planes is a story that would feel right in line with the subplots featured in Love Actually. Both Smith and Thordarson have made an engaging little film that’s more than just another meet cute between two lost souls. It is an example of the holiday film done right - with grace, ease and memorable characters that almost feel like neighbors that we might run into in our buildings across the hall. Do catch it here at this upcoming screening in Chicago; prepare to smile the whole time: Mental Filmness Holiday Showcase (December 2023)

Albert Brooks: Defending My Life (dir. Rob Reiner)

A documentary approach that ultimately becomes My Dinner with Albert is what I was hoping for and for a lot of the running time here, that is what we all get to experience in this new HBO MAX feature. Ending on a bright note here but it also comes with a caveat. Albert Brooks is one of my top five comedy heroes of all time so a near 90-minute movie that celebrates his talent in such an entertaining fashion is my idea of a wonderful time. Yes, I wanted more but I’m also very happy with what is here.

Featuring testimonials and memories from some of the brightest comedy talents and serious thinkers, as well as family and friends, Albert Brooks: Defending My Life, chronicles Brooks’ very early work as a standup performer all the way to present day as a writer/director/author. There is the inevitable talking heads approach with the interviews but personally, since I’m in agreement with what’s being said, I’m willing to overlook that conventional choice to make those a big part of how things kick off. Really, it’s all about the personal back-and-forth between Reiner and Brooks as they converse over the origins and evolution of Brooks’ career, the impetus for his creativity, and the impact he has had on the world of comedy. There are even some stories about familial relationships along the way as you’d expect, especially since his father left at a young age in a very memorable fashion.

Of course, I wanted more emphasis on his filmography and some of the stories that took place behind the scenes. We get less of Baumbach’s approach to De Palma and more streamlined point-A to point-B recollections that often go by too quickly. I’m sure there is much more to be said about each film but maybe it was often a little painful since as Brooks says at one point, “it’s next to impossible to make a movie.” Which is maybe we aren’t treated to anything new in quite some time. Going all the way back to his early appearances and short films from SNL which was a real treat for me and also learning about why he ultimately didn’t steer towards stand-up is a highlight, recounting how he called up his brother from a hotel after a routine. It’s clear there was some trauma regarding the passing of his father that played a part.

As great as the archival footage is, I especially enjoyed certain moments that emphasize his talent as a character actor. Yes, I would’ve liked more talk about what he brought to a film like Drive, but we get plenty of fondness for my favorite role he’s ever played as Aaron in a different Brooks’ film from the late 80s. Early into Broadcast News, James L. Brooks’ meditation on crises of intimacy and media, Aaron demurs to best friend and unrequited love, Jane: “Wouldn’t this be a great world if insecurity and desperation made us more attractive? If ‘needy’ were a turn-on?” It’s such a perfect line in a movie full of them––ironic, self-loathing, withering––made doubly funny for coming from the mouth of Albert Brooks, the artist perhaps most staunchly associated with the ironic, self-loathing, withering cynic. His neurotic energy was so ideal for that part to where I wish he could’ve done even more than what we’ve been given. As far as his movies are concerned, I love just about every single one up to Mother, so any time they were brought up, I was overjoyed.

This is the rare case of wishing a movie was even longer as satisfying as it is at 88 minutes. It’s definitely a documentary I can see myself going back to only because just the sheer presence of Brooks is something to treasure. I could listen to him talk for hours on end. Reiner is at his best leading his subject through the early stages of his career, interspersing Brooks’ memories and self-analysis with a variety of footage, including clips from talk shows on which the young standup honed his prodigious craft. Presently, Brooks is humble and content, as he should be. Perhaps a little bitter but understandably so given the lack of support by the powers that be. Even if he doesn’t make another movie, I feel so grateful to have recently experienced Lost in America on the big screen at the Music Box Theatre. A couple of his films are in regular rotations as rewatches throughout my entire lifetime. Both my dad and I revered Brooks, and this documentary truly does him justice. Now let’s hope and pray that he gets a chance to put out more material, someday. If not, he’s left behind so much that legacy status is preserved among so many, as presented here.