Heidi Schreck isn’t widely know in film and TV, but her semi-autobiographical play, What the Constitution Means to Me, is topical, educational, and funny amid the points. And there is likely an awful lot of information your social studies/government studies, or whatever passes for those classes these days, left out.
While we sit around waiting for the results of the 2020 election, and shortly after we’ve had yet another “originalist” sat on SCOTUS, this play couldn’t be more timely or appropriate. It isn’t perfect…the structure is a bit odd, the moments don’t always flow perfectly from one thought to another, and capturing the play for film wasn’t done particularly well, though it certainly works. But the overall points and the raw emotion that Schreck can dredge up are worth any moments of weakness. And, given where we are as a country right now, this is a must see 100 minutes for everyone (though, be aware it does contain some adult subject matter and language).
So, while we wait to see what direction we may end up pointing, take a break and gain some additional perspective for what’s to come and what could come.
In his relatively short life, Alexander McQueen was a force in fashion that could not be ignored. Love him or hate him, he was a master of design and presentation, not to mention a conscious provocateur.
This docu traces his rise and impact through interviews and tons of archival footage. It is a highly personal view of events, with very little in the way of objective exploration. McQueen would probably agree with that approach, but it makes the film, for all its beauty and inventiveness in presentation, less informative and more a reflection on the man.
And McQueen is a fascinating and tragic character; a driven artist and a damaged man. More than anything, you are left with the impression that perhaps the inevitable tragedy was avoidable if anyone had challenged McQueen’s ability to control the room and provided intervention.
Ultimately, there isn’t much to glean about the man in the fashion world, other than his c.v. and footage of his shows, as there is about the man behind the curtain. If you are a fan or curious it is certainly worth it for that. The new footage is a visual feast, nicely balancing a lot of the lower-fi archival footage. But, frustratingly, it does lose its sense of time. Being more commentary than academic, it provides few year markers to help you place the action (unless, of course, you know his career so well you can place the year by the collection).
For a peek behind the curtain of both the industry and to see the unguarded moments of the man, this is a wonderful excursion. If you want to know more about McQueen’s explicit impacts and efforts, I’m afraid you’re on your own.
Rose Marie was a fixture in comedy for close to 90 years in the industry. She was one of the original megastars of vaudeville and radio, and transitioned to TV and film without missing a beat. But that’s what she accomplished, not who she was. She was also a fascinating character with a life you couldn’t invent and be believed.
This documentary by Jason Wise and partner Christina Wise is funny, well-paced, and a great overview of the entertainment industry as it evolved. And for those that only grew up knowing Rose Marie as the sharp-tongued, gravelly voiced actor from Hollywood Squares, it will probably be revelatory.
But beyond the factual, this is also a wonderful tale of love, endurance, and persistence. It’s a reminder that life is constant change and effort…but doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it along the way. When you need a break from all the craziness, this is a wonderful distraction.
Through interviews, and copious amounts of often graphic footage, writer/director Charlie David introduces us to a range of adult film/web performers, gay and straight, and delves into their lives and drives. Thanks to the subject matter, this docu also makes a wonderful adjunct to Circus of Books.
The result is, admittedly, a bit raw in many respects. However, you can see promise in David’s early attempt to share a story through non-fiction; especially his sense of humor and whimsy. On the weaker side, the footage is often repetitive and reused; but the stories themselves are probably not what you expect, which makes the movie a bit stronger. And, unlike Rocco, these are not self-congratulatory or even celebratory stories, generally. Not that any of these performers are embarrassed by their choices, but neither have they tried to build cults around their bodies. Instead, they are focused on making a living and enjoying life. And, seven years after its release, some of the men have also achieved their goals and exited the industry.
As interesting as some of the conversations are, it’s David’s abbreviated history that introduces the film that really sets up the stories and makes it more relevant. In addition, his ability to keep the subject entertaining without turning it into porn on its own (graphic yes, but not porn) that normalizes it for critical viewing. Though, to be fair, David would likely argue that wouldn’t have been a big deal if it had crossed the line in any case.
If you ever wondered about the people on the other side of the lens, both performers and crew, this is a brief visit with some insight. It isn’t a great movie, but it does show off David’s budding abilities.
Documentarians create films to expose truths, answer questions, and to understand the world. Lately, a number of these began as attempts to understand their own families, but exposed even broader and more universal stories than they originally imagined. Stories We Tell comes to mind, or Circus of Books.
Such is the case here for Vea Mafile’o. This story, inspired by her desire to understand her, if not estranged, certainly distant father and his actions, becomes a fascinating look at Tongan culture and church. As a window into both, it becomes a compelling story for those of us watching. This isn’t a society that is often depicted, even if there are many universals in the details as it unfolds. The story emerges despite some challenging choices in how it is put together, but it does still emerge. As an initial feature for both Mafile’o and co-director Jeremiah Tauamiti, their willingness to be honest and non-judgemental shows some solid promise for their projects ahead.
This is also an opportunity to see an outfit committed to capturing and promoting the Pacific islander life from the inside. In an age where society is trying to become so much more woke, outfits like Mafile’o’s Malosi Pictures and her colleagues are indispensable. For that matter, just capturing and preserving the current cultures of the area as we homogenize is just as important.
What saves this oddly structured biopic from falling apart, like The Current War did, is the sheer will and power of Rosamund Pike (A Private War) and Sam Riley (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil). Their performances, particularly Pike’s, are endlessly fun to watch and feel raw and honest rather than forced. This is no small feat as Marie was driven and blunt; but Pike finds all the layers of that drive, making her focus only an aspect of her character and depicting this strong woman as a whole person. Too often historical women are shown in wildly different moments just to bring out their “womanhood” in order to appease the audience. Not so here…Pike is a complete person all along; abrasive at times, but in a way that feels like there’s someone real underneath it rather than just a mask or a different human each time we see her in different situations, for instance: family vs. work.
There are also a couple of nice, smaller performances. Anya Taylor-Joy (Emma.), Simon Russell Beale (The Death of Stalin), and Katherine Parkinson (Humans) are the ones to note. And I will add that Riley is practically unrecognizable in his role of Pierre Curie, whom he imbues with a fierce intelligence and a complicated approach to the mores of the time.
Admittedly, depicting the lives of complex people is always a challenge. Just look at the recent biopics of Freddy Mercury and Elton John. Both movies were by the same director, but each had utterly different approaches in an attempt to capture the men and their impact. Jack Thorne’s (Wonder) script of Marie Curie’s life, in its attempt to do the same, is both fascinating and baffling. Fortunately it was smoothly tackled by Marjane Satrapi (The Voices), who is adept at slipping back and forth between wildly different aspects of a tale when she directs.
The challenge with the story is that it attempts to show the long-term impact Curie’s discoveries had. Since some of the most impactful applications and issues didn’t even begin to become common till 20 years after her death, it presented a problem. The solution Thorne and Satrapi settled on was to intercut future scenes with the contemporary.
This had two effects. First, it forced commentary around the Curie’s efforts that wasn’t there at the time and blurs the their truth. And, second, it creates an odd fantasy during the end of M. Curie’s final moments that felt wrong to me. In other words we’re forced to see her life through historical eyes and lose a good deal of the contextual reality.
But despite any issues these choices caused, the performances of the two leads is truly wonderful and worth the time to see the film. Also, while some of the Curies’ life is taught to children, a lot of it is missed in school. The family is truly extraordinary, and the story they were a part of is both inspirational and horrifying.
This is another odd documentary that isn’t exactly focused on what you expect. Lambert and Stamp were the guys behind The Who. They didn’t pull together the band, but they were the guiding force, for good and ill, behind their rise, direction, and, ultimately in many ways, their demise. But The Who are merely the foil to discuss the men and their work. At least that is the intent (and the title backs that up).
But, let’s face it, we’re talking about The Who… Townshend and Daltrey figure heavily in the present-day interviews, and there is a ton of performance footage. Of course the band and the men draw focus despite all efforts by the first-time-feature director, James D. Cooper.
What really sets this movie apart is that Lambert and Stamp had always intended a movie of their efforts managing the band. Mind you, they thought that would be a couple years before the band (whichever band they picked) would flame out and they could then focus on their purported first love: film. But as fate would have it, they ended up with The Who, one of the longer lasting forces in modern rock, which has ended up outlasting even them. But that plan and intent means is that there is a lot of high-quality footage and interviews from the very beginning of The Who’s journey with their producers/managers rather than the type of “found footage” you’re stuck with 40 years down the pike looking back.
Cooper did an amazing job sifting all these years of archival footage and new interviews to pull together a story. It may not have been the story Lambert and Stamp had envisioned when they started their efforts, but it is still a fascinating one. And, with The Who as the backdrop for it all, it tends to be interesting generally.
When you watch a biopic, you come to it with two main objectives. First, you hope to learn a bit about the subject themself, their life and personal drives, successes, and demons. You also want to know more about how they impacted the world and people around them. Bertrand Bonello’s painful Saint Laurent focuses very much on the first, but neglects just about everything else.
To begin with, you have to care about fashion to even approach this movie. Why else would you care? I’ve seen many such biopics on the fashion industry and was tangentially involved in it for many years as well. But even with my more-than-average knowledge I had trouble following the plot and points Bonello wanted to make. He structured the film using multiple time frames, always jumping ahead to an inflection point in Yves’s life and then rewinding to show us how he got there, and then setting the next point and doing it all over again through to his death…sort of.
The point is that we just don’t care about the man. We don’t really see anything positive from his actions, only his debauched and depressing spiral trying to find himself while somewhere offscreen, somehow, he builds a fashion empire. We have no sense what he really contributes to that empire, other than his name, nor what made it so important to world fashion. I can’t even tell if Bonello did it from love or loathing.
Honestly, this is a movie to avoid regardless of your interest, unless it is entirely puerile for either the main actor Gaspard Ulliel, who does a lot with what he was given to work with, or for the gay clubbing world of Paris fashion in the 70s-90s. Ulliel is backed up onscreen by Jérémie Renier (Frankie), Léa Seydoux (The Lobster), and Aymeline Valade (Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets), not to mention the suitably weird and creepy Louis Garrel (The Dreamers). Well “backed up” is a little of an overstatement. They provide some local color and framework, but very little substance.
In the end, Bonello does bring it to a point/comment: regardless of Laurent’s life, it didn’t affect his art and impact on women’s fashion. In other words, love the art not the man or, perhaps, an artist’s personal life shouldn’t be part of the equation. Either is a legitimate point to argue, but it didn’t require 2.5 hours of descent into disaster (if it is to be fully believed) that was his life.
One of the great joys of a good historical drama is that you learn something new. I knew nothing of Te Ata, the woman. And even if I had, I don’t think my opinion of her would have been as positive as it was after this biopic. Q’orianka Kilcher (Color Out of Space) brings this Chickasaw legend to life in surprising ways, without remaking her for modern tastes.
There is just about no story about Native Americans that isn’t going to twist your gut at some moment or another, but this story manages to be relatively honest while focusing on the positive. And Te Ata made that life for herself by being both driven to find it and determined enough to keep trying.
The movie itself is competently written and directed. It isn’t groundbreaking in any way movie-wise. But it boasts a solid cast and some surprises. Gil Birmingham (Wind River) and Graham Greene (Molly’s Game) and Brigid Brannagh (Runaways) as Kilcher’s family each have a moment or two worth seeing. And Mackenzie Astin (The Magicians) brings in something nice for the final third.
As I implied, this movie isn’t going to remake your life, but it will provide some perspective and, even, inspire you a bit by the end.
Cantinflas: if you grew up in the States, probably the most famous and well-paid actor you never heard of. This biopic attempts to correct that blind spot. Unfortunately, though each of the parts are there, the story, like Mario Moreno’s (aka Cantinflas) comedy, didn’t translate well in Edui Tijerina and Sebastian del Amo’s script. But neither had a lot of experience on their cv’s at the time to help them. And, adding to the challenge, del Amo also directed.
The story is told across two timelines, primarily in English and Spanish, that eventually converge. One tracks Moreno’s origins and rise and the other the efforts by Mike Todd, played solidly by Michael Imperioli (The Scribbler), to produce and direct Around the World in 80 Days. Spoiler: the movie does get made, Moreno (as Cantinflas) plays Passepartout, and both make huge box office history and win several prestigious awards. Why give that away? First, it’s history and you’ll likely start to look it up during the movie just to find out how true it is. Second, without that knowledge the movie is empty to those who don’t know or care about Moreno’s story going in.
That isn’t the fault of Óscar Jaenada (The Man Who Killed Don Quixote), who is wonderfully cast as Cantinflas. He captures the man’s Chaplin-esque comedy and movements. He comes across as both shrewd and capable. But the movie doesn’t provide him a clear story and progression. We get a series of vignettes that hit important moments which never quite all come together as a triumph in the industry or his life. Amusingly, this movie won more awards than Around the World, but none of those were in the majors–however it speaks to the appetite for the insights into Moreno’s life.
It also has to be noted that, other than Jaenada and Imperioli, the casting in the film is awful. No one looks like their historical counterparts, which is a problem when you’re dealing with icons like Brando, Brynner, and others (though I will admit that Bárbara Mori comes passably close to Taylor).
As a bit of historical context and some interesting insights into the waning years of United Artists, when the studios were crushing the independents (though never quite successfully), this is an intriguing film. As a story itself that stands on its own, it’s far less successful. This will appeal to those that know Cantinflas and to cinefiles who’s knowledge contains gaps about international stars.