Week Ending 12/20/24
Merry Christmas!
Holiday season continues with Christmas next Wednesday and all the Oscar bait releases you can manage. A Complete Unknown (brief words here). Babygirl (review on Monday at jaredmobarak.com). Nosferatu (review on Monday at jaredmobarak.com). The Fire Inside (TIFF review at The Film Stage).
Before that, on Monday 12/30, our local critics group will be announcing our 2024 nominees. Ballots were due on the 18th, so I’ve binging as much as I can the past week. Most of them have been great (see below). Everything has been good (I didn’t care enough about some to write a full review, but I put a couple sentences down for Janet Planet, Daughters, Union, Piece By Piece, and, A Complete Unknown above). Now I’ll catch-up on the nominees I missed before digging into the rest of my watchlist as the ballot for my OFCS vote comes next.
As it stands now: Best Picture is I Saw the TV Glow. Director is Brady Corbet for The Brutalist. Lead Actor is Colman Domingo for Sing Sing. Lead Actress is Marianne Jean-Baptiste for Hard Truths. Supporting Actor is Kieran Culkin for A Real Pain. Supporting Actress is Danielle Deadwyler for The Piano Lesson. And screenplays are The Brutalist for original and Nickel Boys for adapted. We’ll see if anything changes before the New Year.
In the meantime, it’s time to also compile my favorite posters of the year and finalize my Top Ten for The Film Stage. Hoping to get a big chunk of those done this weekend as well as finish my mix cds for friends and family (I accidentally bought the wrong Cricut vinyl and my replacement isn’t coming until after Christmas, so I need to improvise with what I have and keep the new stuff for 2025). You can listen to the mix now on Spotify.
What I Watched:
THE BRUTALIST
(limited release)
“Above the script's elucidations, Corbet's assured direction, and the impressive production design, though, are too of the year's finest performances courtesy of Adrien Brody and Guy Pearce.”
– Full thoughts at jaredmobarak.com.
A DIFFERENT MAN
(VOD/Digital HD; streaming on Max 1/17/25)
It's not just that Edward (Sebastian Stan) tries to hide whenever he's being perceived by the public at-large. He tries to hide even when he's not. If someone talks to him, he does everything he can to not talk back. If even the smallest sound is heard in the distance, he startles like a bomb went off. This is the life he's had to live with neurofibromatosis—never knowing if someone is going to ruin his day by making him feel less than just for existing. Edward is a raw nerve letting the world's narrow idea of "normal" dictate his every movement, constantly expecting the other shoe to drop rather than taking control for himself. Like so many, not even he can get past his own appearance.
So, writer/director Aaron Schimberg provides a solution via an experimental procedure that may allow Edward to lose the tumors and look like everyone else. As the title eludes, he's presented the opportunity to become A Different Man. And therein lies the inherent problem since there was nothing wrong with him in the first place. He simply saw his shortcomings as physical when they were actually psychological. He let his physical deformity dictate his persona—so much so that he'd rather tell everyone who knew him before the transformation that "Edward" died than admit he was still himself. No, now he was Guy. A regular Joe. Dating, selling, earning, and leaving his entire past behind.
Except, of course, for Ingrid (Renate Reinsve). She was the reason he even tried the experiment. Edward's desire to be with her when he knew he couldn't regardless of their friendship remained. And now that he looked "normal," he could. Not only that, he does. But what he didn't understand then was that the steady stream of men who darkened her door meant nothing to her. They came and went, while her friendship with him remained. So, while Edward might now be in her bed as "Guy," is he really in her life? Is he someone who's indispensable to her? Because, as we soon learn, Edward was. She's written an entire play about him, bringing his essence to the stage as a tribute to a lost soul.
Or has she? That's the beauty of Schimberg's film: everything possesses a duality with the potential to reveal how nothing is ever quite what it seems. Edward's bond with Ingrid was stronger than it is as Guy. Ingrid's "aw shucks" aspiring writer might have begun her play as a tribute, but the idea that it could be produced and ignite her career has a way of pushing the real Edward out so that the new "Edward"—a creation she proclaims was hers alone and actually more about herself than anyone in her life—can take the spotlight. It therefore makes total sense that she'd cast Guy in the role. A man pretending to be the man he didn't want to be to achieve everything he couldn't but now could.
Well, at least until the arrival of Oswald (Adam Pearson). Because rather than be one version of himself at the expense of another, this UK transplant with neurofibromatosis embraces all versions simultaneously. He doesn't let his appearance detract from his ambition. He doesn't let it destroy his confidence. He doesn't let it control him. But he's also just a really great dude who sees Guy wearing a mask that makes him look like Edward (and like Oswald since Pearson serves as the inspiration for it all) and applauds the performance rather than scream exploitation. He applauds Ingrid's words. He's simply tickled by the whole thing. And the more his charisma shines, the more Guy falls back into the introverted, angry, and scared Edward all over again.
A Different Man proves a relevant commentary on our world's penchant to "other" those outside a given norm, but also an increasingly zany satire on our ability to "other" ourselves. Because experiencing the life Oswald leads should be an inspiration for Guy. It should unlock something in him that will allow him to move past both his insecurities and his imitations. What it does instead, though, is amplify those feelings of shame and of being an imposter. Oswald earning everything Edward thought the "Guys" of this world took from him makes it so he cannot think straight. Suddenly Guy goes from having two identities to having none at all. His own actions erase him from existence while the actions of a man who looks exactly like he did flourishes.
It's an entertaining journey with Stan excelling three-fold as the shy recluse, uncertain heartthrob, and cracked result upon discovering neither is real. The only honest thing is his self-hatred. The way Schimberg balances the script by making Stan's Edward the straight man losing his mind as everyone surrounding him seems to be doing the exact opposite of what his own preconceptions perceive is genius. Reinsve is the perfect hollow façade (the Guy Edward sought to become) while Pearson perfectly epitomizes modesty, empathy, and charity (the Edward Edward couldn't become)—two farcical opposites Edward cannot stop thinking are laughing at him because he's always laughed at himself. Their actions are so over-the-top by comparison that Edward's incredulity can ultimately only birth more self-destruction.
- 8/10
SING SING
(returning to theaters 1/17/25)
It's may seem redundant to say this six-month period for 'Divine G' (Colman Domingo) isn't full of many "wins" considering he's incarcerated in Sing Sing maximum security prison for a crime he didn't commit, but he's also a man with hope in his heart and empathy in his soul. So, it matters when the guy he brings into the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program he helped found starts taking the things he took for granted. This was supposed to be G's time to shine with the group performing an original play by him before Clarence 'Divine Eye' Maclin (played by Maclin himself) suggests doing a comedy instead. And when said comedy includes a single dramatic role for G to excel on-stage, Maclin's first timer somehow takes that too.
So, we anticipate fallout throughout the start of Greg Kwedar's Sing Sing (written by him and Clint Bentley from stories of Maclin and the real 'Divine G', John Whitfield, that were chronicled via an article by John H. Richardson) because it seems the hits keep coming. Sure, they get under G's skin—especially since Maclin doesn't seem to be embracing the emotional challenges the RTA seeks to help these inmates confront—but that optimism and compassion simply rise higher. This man that no one could blame for shutting down as appeal after appeal fails understands the power of the arts and sees his purpose within these walls as a shepherd to help other men conquer the demons that landed them there in the first place. And that includes Maclin.
You'd be forgiven then for believing the film is solely about softening a gangster's edges rather than the communal spirit of vulnerability and brotherhood that impacts every character's arc. Yes, Maclin becomes the exemplar of the program's success through a gradual acceptance towards opening himself up in ways he's never done before, but G himself is an exemplar of just how difficult the struggle is regardless of whether you think you have it figured out. That's the crucial push and pull of the whole: Maclin finding belief in himself to take a chance on the system that put him here being able to also get him out and G reckoning with the reality that justice is too gray to stop him from inevitably relapsing into the crisis of faith he thought he'd already conquered. Life isn't fair.
The inherent futility of that truth is what the RTA program seeks to mitigate through art therapy, escapism, and friendship. It's a tenuous balance that's not without its breaking points, but the hope is that it can serve as the safety net and security system necessary to reclaim balance. But it only works if you're willing to give as much as you get in the case of Maclin or trust in it as much as you ask it to trust in you in the case of G. Anything less is hypocrisy on both sides of the equation because the work G does to elevate and empower men like Maclin rings hollow if he's not willing to believe they've changed enough to elevate and empower him right back. That's just ego. That's what he helped strip away from everyone around him while still fighting against his own.
It's a dynamic that leads to some really heavy drama in the back half. Sing Sing will trick you into assuming it's all going to be uplifting feel-good fare at the start with everyone embracing the light-hearted nature of putting on an absolute farce of a comedy ("Breakin' The Mummy's Code" is a time-traveling adventure through disparate classics spanning Hamlet to A Nightmare on Elm Street and was written by RTA volunteer director Brent Buell, played in the film by Paul Raci). This thing moves smoothly through every setback as G embraces his role as cheerleader while Maclin sheds his hardened façade. So, we prepare for a stream of happily ever afters to follow before ... Bang! Tragedy strikes to shake their headspace as even more setbacks erupt. When it rains, it pours.
Maclin and Domingo are thus tasked with carrying their characters through the internal chaos to exit out the other end via the brotherly love they've cultivated through this program. The latter is an Oscar-nominated actor who will probably earn his second chance at the award because of this heart-wrenching portrayal, but the former is a product of the very RTA chapter depicted on-screen without any professional acting experience. Well, Maclin more than holds his own both through the authentic evolution of his character and connection with his acclaimed scene partner. The film is never better than when these two are together because you really get a sense of how fine the line separating us is. No matter our pasts or actions, a shared humanity remains.
That's not to say moments between Domingo and real-life best friend Sean San José as Mike Mike won't make you smile ear-to-ear or shed a few tears too (one indelible scene has them in separate cells talking through the doors with a level of heartache and understanding that makes us forget they aren't sitting side by side). Or that the rest of the cast of RTA alums playing themselves won't also steal the spotlight (Sean 'Dino' Johnson delivers an anecdote that epitomizes the entire ethos of what's happening to perfection). They corroborate the statistic that men enrolled in RTA programs have only a three percent recidivism rate. The escapism and sense of purpose are huge, but it's the bonds forged by steel that makes it possible. Whatever nightmare might arise, they won't face it alone.
- 8/10
WALLACE & GROMIT: VENGEANCE MOST FOWL
(streaming on Netflix 1/3/25)
What better way to bring Wallace and Gromit back into the public consciousness than with the return of their dastardly villain Feathers McGraw? It's been sixteen years since the last short entry (A Matter of Loaf and Death), nineteen years since the first feature length entry (The Curse of the Were-Rabbit), and thirty-one(!) years since the claymation duo foiled their penguin foe in The Wrong Trousers. That's a lot of time and a lot of Lewis Newplast clay—the last of which was purchased to complete this latest adventure, Vengeance Most Fowl. The one thing that hasn't changed is Nick Park's humor and artistic ingenuity.
If nothing else, this feature (co-directed with Merlin Crossingham and scribed by Mark Burton) is gorgeous. The animation is impossibly smooth with water effects, huge action set-pieces, and the best silent film acting this century thanks to both Gromit (whose eyebrows do so much) and Feathers (whose dead-face does even more courtesy of brilliant reaction shots of those around him). And the addition of computer effects courtesy of an AI plot line never misses a beat. Neither does Ben Whitehead coming in to fill the late Peter Sallis' shoes in his first "main saga" production after voicing Wallace in numerous other iterations.
The story goes as follows: Feathers languishes in his zoological prison while Wallace's penchant for Rube Goldberg-esque inventions have gotten out of control. Gromit can only deal with the Pee-Wee Herman style wake-up routine nonsense (that he is forced to orchestrate for his owner) because he still has his garden sanctuary in the backyard. So, of course, Wallace must interfere there in the guise of "help" by introducing his newest piece of cutting-edge technology, Norbot (Reece Shearsmith). This mechanical gnome programmed for clean and homogenized landscaping destroys years of work in an instant and, because the lemmings of this world love convenience and uniformity, the entire neighborhood is enthralled.
Long story short, Feathers gets wind of his nemesis' new endeavor to lease Norbot for "gnome improvement" jobs and hatches a plan to hack into its programming to stage a jailbreak and a heist to reclaim the fabled blue diamond. As per usual, Wallace is too naïve to notice when his "good" helpers turn evil, so it's up to Gromit to save the day. But that only works if Chief Inspector Mackintosh (Peter Kay) and PC Mukherjee (Lauren Patel) don't stop his last-minute heroics considering all roads lead to Wallace once his customers discover they've all been robbed. Could it be that Feathers has crafted a foolproof plan to achieve his goals and destroy his enemies? Or will the pushed-aside sidekicks once again come to the rescue?
The script is full of hilarious sight gags as a fleet of evil Norbots hide its intentions to all those not looking as closely as Gromit (and us). And since most of the narrative propulsion hinges on ineptitude, Feathers' cool confidence proves ever more effective by comparison. The AI commentary is handled well too with the notion that its optimal use is to complete menial housework while also revealing how those "chores" can often be another person's haven. Because there's artistry to Gromit's flowers and accomplishment in their methodical upkeep. The same goes for Wallace's increasingly elaborate inventions that still need human input. You can't therefore assume what Norbot has been trained to do will also be what its owner wants. AI is just another tool.
That it all leads to a high concept finale with a not so high-speed chase, sabotage, mistaken identities, and explosions is but a cherry on top. Enemies become friends. Assumptions become reversed. And the simple things in life that we're quickly erasing from public consciousness return to the fold for both a sigh of relief and a bit of mystery too. In the end, though, it's really about reminding Wallace that who he is relies upon what he does. Sure, it's cool to build a robot that can ultimately replace him, but does that truly bring him joy? No. And just because his inventions created this trouble doesn't mean he can't still invent something else to stop it. Whatever it takes to finish the day with best friend Gromit by his side.
- 8/10
THE WILD ROBOT
(VOD/Digital HD)
When an island of wild animals discovers a giant talking robot roaming its forest, they have every right to be scared. Maybe it's a predator. Maybe it's their destroyer. No one would anticipate it might actually become their friend and protector—not even it. Because Rozzum 7134 (Lupita Nyong'o) isn't supposed to feel or care. This is an AI task completer meant to fulfill whatever its human owners request without question or failure. So, of course, "Roz" attempts to find whomever it was that ordered her. She doesn't know a typhoon stranded her on an uninhabited patch of land. She must assume this is where she's meant to be. Maybe that squirrel ordered her. Maybe that turtle. Definitely not the bear.
Adapted from the first book in Peter Brown's illustrated trilogy, Chris Sanders' The Wild Robot begins with a lot of humor before deftly introducing its immense wealth of heart. This is a stranger in a strange land narrative, after all. The fun is in Roz trying to find her owner and the woodland creatures trying to survive whatever chaos she might bring. Things don't get much easier when she spends days learning their sounds and translating their "language" either. All that does is let her know they all fear and/or want to defeat her. If not for an accident that leaves one last egg in a nest of dead geese, Roz might have just been stranded to rust and die herself. But when Fink the fox (Pedro Pascal) tries to steal that egg, she makes certain to protect it.
The result is a trio of "ugly ducklings" banding together to survive the harsh winters of an obvious post-climate disaster world (we eventually get a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge submerged under water). Not only does little Brightbill (Kit Connor) not have his biological family, but he's so small that the other geese wouldn't bother raising him anyway. Fink is a lone fox scavenger who makes as many enemies through trying to eat them as he does bigger animals trying to eat him. And Roz is the de facto pariah simply because she does not belong and has seemingly done more harm than good when attempting to endear herself to the wildlife. So, they might as well stay close, help each other adapt, and fulfill Roz's first task: keep Brightbill alive until he's strong enough to migrate.
An inspiring journey towards love commences as Brightbill is forced to come to terms with the fact that the thing that made him an orphan is also the thing that ensured his survival, Fink is forced to accept that he could use a friend, and Roz is forced to alter her directives and learn to let her heart lead. Does that last part make any sense? No. She's a robot. She has no heart and her constant pointing to her chest and its battery doesn't help matters considering she eventually decides to reach in and throw that out. But this is a children's story. It's personifying Roz as much as the animals to teach kids about empathy, affection, and humanity. It's centering the idea of a heart rather than the physical muscle—the notion that our emotional connections should guide our morality, not flawed doctrine.
That's an important lesson. Especially now with the world fracturing into tribes that would rather sabotage their own survival than believe someone on the other side has a right to exist. The initial violence threatening to tear down Roz's giant wooden igloo after a blizzard rescue mission epitomizes where we are right now. A bunch of predators and prey living under the same roof with zero interest in each other beyond the base instinct to slaughter. It's the "The Scorpion and the Frog" on a large scale where self-preservation is somehow overridden by fear. We fear that someone with no interest in hurting us will hurt us so we attack first and inevitably become the reason they retaliate. And rather than admit our error and listen, we double-down by seeking to eradicate them.
Yes, the message is still reduced to "they'll finally understand the error of their ways once it happens to them," but you do have to start somewhere. And, again, this is a movie for kids, so simplicity goes a long way. Sometimes that means finding another element everyone can love to hate (cool kids and pariahs alike)—see Matt Berry's determined outcast Paddler. Sometimes it means injecting a wizened elder to arrive deus ex machina style as a bridge towards universal enlightenment—see Bill Nighy's Longneck. As long as you also have examples of one-track minds possessing complex reasoning (Mark Hamill's Thorn and Ving Rhames' Thunderbolt), pure compassionate souls (Catherine O'Hara's Pinktail), and a communal villain (Stephanie Hsu's VONTRA), there are enough avenues to teach by example without any preaching.
Add themes on home and family of the nurture rather than nature variety and there's a lot to love about Roz and company's emotional evolutions. The whole flirts with tragedy (and, in one instance, does deliver), but parents shouldn't be too worried that the suspense inherent to protecting those we love will fall into despair. Every sacrifice is a price willing to be paid and one that those who benefit won't forget. It's the blueprint of a civilization born from chaos thanks to the unwavering support of a parent towards its child ... whether the latter rebels against it or not. And while that impulse may start as obligation, it's supposed to be impossible to not let it transform into an unbreakable passion. Love conquers all—the sort that keeps you together and the sort that keeps you apart.
- 8/10
Cinematic F-Bombs:
No new titles added to the archive (cinematicfbombs.com) this week. Here’s an oldie:
Woody Allen dropping a PG f-bomb in THE FRONT.
New Releases This Week:
(Review links where applicable)
Opening Buffalo-area theaters 12/20/24 -
HOMESTEAD at AMC Market Arcade; Regal Elmwood, Transit, Galleria & Quaker
MUFASA: THE LION KING at Dipson Flix & Capitol; AMC Maple Ridge & Market Arcade; Regal Elmwood, Transit, Galleria & Quaker
RIFLE CLUB at Regal Transit
SONIC THE HEDGEHOG 3 at Dipson Flix & Capitol; AMC Maple Ridge & Market Arcade; Regal Elmwood, Transit, Galleria & Quaker
STANDING ON THE SHOULDERS OF KITTIES at North Park Theatre
VIDUTHALAI - PART 2 at Regal Elmwood
Streaming from 12/20/24 -
FERRY 2 – Netflix on 12/20
ILLANA GLAZER: HUMAN MAGIC – Hulu on 12/20
JUROR #2 – Max on 12/20
LAST STRAW – Shudder on 12/20
THE SIX TRIPLE EIGHT – Netflix on 12/20
UMJOLO: DAY ONES – Netflix on 12/20
BIRD – MUBI on 12/23
Now on VOD/Digital HD -
ANORA (12/17)
“It's a wild ride through Brooklyn that entertains and thrills in equal measure. Madison is truly a force of nature when it comes to standing her ground—even if her footing simply can't compete with that of those pushing her around.” – Full thoughts at HHYS.
CHASING CHASING AMY (12/17)
“By putting [CHASING AMY's] production and impact and failings in context with Sav's personal awakening, his documentary supplies a deep dive the likes of which couldn't happen if a deep dive was the initial goal.” – Full thoughts at HHYS.
SEPARATED (12/17)
SMALL THINGS LIKE THESE (12/17)