80 for Brady

Director: Kyle Marvin
Starring: Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, Rita Moreno, Sally Field, Tom Brady, Billy Porter, Harry Hamlin, Guy Fieri, Alex Moffat, Rob Corddry, Glynn Turman, Ron Funches, Bob Balaban, Jimmy O. Yang, Matt Lauria, Sara Gilbert, Sally Kirkland, Andy Richter, Patton Oswalt, Retta
Running Time: 98 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★)  

When everyone heard that now retired NFL legend Tom Brady would be producing and acting in a major motion picture, this probably wasn't what they had in mind. But 80 for Brady is exactly the type of mainstream, inoffensive comedy he'd likely latch onto, allowing the former quarterback to easily dip into entertainment waters while playing off his popularity. If it flopped, no big deal. If not, even better. Very loosely based on a true story about a foursome of senior citizens who travel to Houston to watch their hero play in Super Bowl LI, it actually turns out far better than expected. 

What succeeds can be attributed to its lead actresses, all of whom make the most of a fairly ridiculous premise. More jokes hit than don't and director Kyle Marvin keeps things moving fast enough that you're not aggravated by its missteps, which are surprisingly few. Providing a service to the industry by catering to an underrepresented population of older female moviegoers, those fully prepared for disaster will be relieved this isn't the abomination its cringe worthy trailers and TV spots hinted at.

It's 2017 and elderly best friends Lou (Lily Tomlin), Trish (Jane Fonda), Maura (Rita Moreno) and Betty (Sally Field) are all New England Patriots fans, having gathered weekly for the past fifteen years to cheer on quarterback Tom Brady. While making plans for their Super Bowl LI watch party, they decide to enter a sports radio contest rewarding the best story of Patriots fandom with free tickets to the big game in Houston. 

After discovering they've won, getting there and holding onto the tickets prove to be a challenge when a myriad of obstacles stand in their way. Determined to see this through, they stumble upon various hijinks at the NFL Experience while also getting caught up in the celebrity-filled events taking place over that weekend. With each navigating rough patches in their personal lives, the trip isn't only a needed escape from the stresses back home, but possibly one of their final chances for a wild adventure. And they've come too far to turn back now.  

Given the onslaught of jokes and sight gags that come a mile a minute, it's kind of surprising how many manage to land, thanks mostly to these actresses, whose collective talents help elevate a decent amount of ridiculousness. In a refreshing change, the women are rarely the butt of insults about their ages, and when it happens, they're usually the ones dishing that out. The characters aren't complex and shouldn't be, but the script makes a decent enough go at giving them meaningful backstories, allowing the four to just run with it, as we know they can.  

Tomlin's Lou is a cancer survivor who's partially using the trip to avoid her latest test results, Fonda's Trish is a former beauty queen unlucky in love, Moreno's Maura is living in a nursing home by choice while still grieving her husband's death and Field's retired MIT professor Betty seems to be the most well-adjusted of the group, at least when not attending to her needy husband (Bob Balaban). 

If pushed to choose, Trish's subplot involving her publication of Rob Gronkowski fan fiction and a burgeoning relationship with a former Patriots player (Harry Hamlin) is probably the least effective. But even here, the character isn't written as some vain, aging narcissist and Fonda adds just the right dose of sarcastic cleverness to the role.

All of them do a fine job believably bouncing off each other, especially Grace and Frankie co-stars Fonda and Tomlin, whose TV chemistry translates to this bigger stage. And Moreno's side story involving a recently widowed retirement home resident (Glynn Turman) courting her strikes just the right balance. Of course, there's a also a fair amount of silliness in the form of a spicy wings contest, a cannabis-laced poker party and appearances from the likes of Billy Porter, Patton Oswalt, Andy Richter, Rob Corddry, Retta and Guy Fieri. Some work better than others, although it's kind of bizarre just how large a role Fieri has. .

Given the amount of Brady Super Bowls the writers could choose from, they at least knew to center it around the one that would provide the most creative possibilities, especially in the final act. The Patriots impossible comeback against the Falcons is exploited to full effect, as you can imagine the filmmakers' eagerness at incorporating the ladies into this in a way that earns heartfelt laughs. For the most part it does, despite including extensive footage of a game most know all too well at this point. But if nothing else, you have to at least respect the effort put into that old school NFL opening title sequence.

None of this is complete without Tom Brady's acting chops being put to the test, but he's actually an engaging and charismatic presence in the few minutes he shares onscreen with Tomlin. It helps he's not asked to stretch outside his comfort zone, which could also easily apply to the movie as a whole. It's a fun, harmless ninety minutes audiences won't have to totally shut their brains off to enjoy. They just might have to put them on autopilot for a little bit.  

Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

Director: George C. Wolfe
Starring: Viola Davis, Chadwick Boseman, Glynn Turman, Colman Domingo, Michael Potts, Jonny Coyne, Taylour Paige, Jeremy Shamos, Dusan Brown
Running Time: 94 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Based upon August Wilson's acclaimed 1982 play, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom is an entertaining, eye-opening spectacle that examines the plight of two strong-willed African American musicians fighting for what's owed to them in a business and society holding them down. They're both essentially battling for the same cause, even as the personal histories that have shaped their present serve as further roadblocks, preventing them from forming the most basically cordial working relationships, especially with each other. Operating under the thumb of white record producers looking to get rich off their talents, anyone familar with the power imbalance at work here could imagine another film told entirely from the vantage point of these executives. 

Much of that hypothetical picture would focus on how these bosses are doing the black musicians a favor while getting nothing but aggravation in return."Difficult" would undoubtedly be a frequent descriptor used by these men to describe how their contracted property won't bend to their will, even as the title character gladly wears that as a badge of honor. But such a film is entirely unnecessary since director George C. Wolfe seems to have already made it. Considering who was calling the shots, these musicians were always going to be relegated to supporting players in their own careers, without being granted the dignity of such an explanation.   

Unsurprisingly, Chadwick Boseman's performance would be receiving this level of praise regardless of whether it marked the final time we saw him on screen. His character proves to be the driving engine as he takes this cocky, smooth talking, hotheaded upstart musician on a tumultuous journey instigated by a pain and anguish we've only begun to partially comprehend, until it engulfs every frame, swallowing everyone and everything around it. His self-justification grows deeper and darker, threatening to explode at any moment, until it actually does.The film peaks at just the right time before making an early exit but it's the two Oscar-nominated turns that carry the picture. Thinking we know where all this is going until it's actually there, the finale is challenging to watch, all but confirming that the more things change, the more they haven't changed at all.         

It's 1927 and popular blues singer Ma Rainey (Viola Davis) is under contract to Paramount when manager Irvin (Jeremy Shamos) schedules her for a recording session in Chicago with her Georgia Jazz Band members, Toledo (Glynn Turman), Cutler (Colman Domingo), Slow Drag (Michael Potts) and overconfident trumpeter Levee Green (Boseman). Hoping to break away from the band and land his own deal, Levee shows his original compositions to producer Mel Sturdyvant (Jonny Coyne), to nearly everyone's disapproval. Ma is especially angered by his ambitions, believing a proven track record of success has afforded her the final say over him, the rest of the band and producers. 

Showing up late with girlfriend Dussie Mae (Taylour Paige) and 14 year-old nephew Sylvester (Dusan Brown), Ma demands the latter speak the album's opening narration despite his serious stutter, determined to have everyone wait until he gets it right. This instigates a battle of wills between her and the producers, as well as with Levee, who's not only underming Ma's authority with his own musical arrangments, but also seems to have designs on Dussie Mae. As tensions between Levee and the other band members threaten to boil over, disturbing revelations about his childhood come to light, sending his quick temper careening out of control.

Ma's strong stage presence, powerful voice and overwhelming personality may make it seem on the surface as if she's enormously successful enough to do what she wants, when in actuality this is the 1920's and white male label heads view her strictly as a monetary investment. She only seems to be in charge because everything's a fight to prevent them from walking all over her, at points even explicitly stating these men wouldn't pay her any mind if not for the singing that makes them money. And she's right.

Whether it's her bosses withholding money or trying to creatively call the shots, Ma has adopted this attitude as a survival mechanism, well aware that the career consequences could be far worse if she didn't fight for her fair share. For Davis, this role's a homecoming of sorts, having aleady won an Oscar and Tony for her role in Wilson's Fences, but this is an entirely different, brasher, more over-the-top role that requires a nuance few others could have brought to the more heavily dramatic moments. There's a lot of pain behind Ma's posturing and toughness so the real mastery in Davis' carefully calibrated performance comes when she allows us a peak behind that facade to earn a glimpse of it.

Knowing talent alone won't be nearly enough to overcome the prejudice, the flashy, egotistical Levee instantly becomes a threat to Ma's dominance, staking his claim to the spotlight. But regardless of how talented he considers himself, his attitude and temper get in the way. If the general feeling amongst the band members is that they can barely tolerate someone who hasn't paid his dues in the business, they eventually find out he's paid them in life, and then some. The entire story rests with Boseman's performance, to the point that everything else feels like a warm-up until Levee's triggered by the other band members about his "sucking up" to the white man. This leads to an emotional explosion, as well as some painful confessions about his upbringing that knock his bandmates on their heels. And the tensions only worsen from there. 

With a glimmer in his eye and a self-deprecating smile, Boseman initially disarms you, but at a certain point that turns, sending Levee over an edge he won't return from for the film's duration, lashing out in wildly unpredictable ways. The religious, mild-mannered Cutler, whose honest attempts to play peacemaker with Levee, Ma and the producers fall short. Colman Domingo's subtly effective in creating an impression that Cutler's put out these fires within the band before and whatever problems exist should take a backseat to the music he clearly loves. Glynn Turman is equally memorable as the mid-mannered Toledo, offering experience and wisdom Levee would have been wise to listen to if he wasn't already so far gone, well on his way down a path to inevitable violence.

In joining the many stage-to-screen productions in the past year such as One Night in Miami and The Father, this probably feels like the stagiest, if only due to the musical component and the fact its monologues are far lengthier. But clocking in at just over and hour and a half, Wolfe and writer Ruben Santiago-Hudson really keep it moving, with the story itself speaking volumes. The characters mistakenly direct all their rage at each other, while the true tragedy comes in the realization they may not have had much of a choice. The very last scene confirms Ma's dire prediction, with her and Levee proving to be no more or less expendable than the rest, as the label executives were only ever going to see one thing, no matter how hard they were pushed to think otherwise.