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The Piano Lesson (2024)
Talky, Tedious and Incongruous: August Wilson Deserves Better
When a gifted playwright's work is adapted for the big screen, the transition from one medium to another can be quite challenging to pull off successfully. And, if the adaptation gets it wrong, it fails to do justice to the source material, an outcome that often unfairly reinforces the blanket denigration often accorded to film as an "inferior" artform compared to others (like literature or the stage). Such is the case, unfortunately, with this latest adaptation of work drawn from the writings of August Wilson, a stage-to-screen cross-over comes up short compared to previous conversions of his material (like "Fences" (2016), which succeeded brilliantly). This tale of two siblings (John David Washington, Danielle Deadwyler) who match wits over the fate of a family heirloom - a piano with a hand-carved façade featuring images of their slave era ancestors - depicts their heated discussions over its ultimate dispensation, one option aimed at selling it and the other bent on retaining it as a treasured piece of family history. As this scenario plays out, however, complications emerge when the ghosts of their deceased relatives and other spirits make their surreal presence known in steering the quarrelsome brother and sister to settle the matter. It's an intriguing premise, one that speaks volumes about dealing with the ghosts of one's past, what they endured in their lives and how the impact of their experiences has been passed down to their descendants. But many of the film's scenes fall prey to one of the key pitfalls that often undermine theatrical adaptations - a series of overlong, stagey, tediously talky conversations that may work on Broadway but that try the patience of viewers on screen. What's more, many sequences launch into seemingly unrelated exchanges whose connections to the primary narrative often seem tangential at best, segments that are further undermined by loquacious and not particularly interesting dialogues. And, as for the fantasy sequences, their excessively disparate nature is wholly incongruous with the remainder of the film, looking more like they belong in a movie like "Carrie" (1976) than an August Wilson production. While writer-director Malcolm Washington's debut feature definitely has its strong suits, such as its fine ensemble of performances, inventive cinematography and meticulous period piece production design, it lacks the integral components needed to make this a compelling and engaging watch. To be sure, August Wilson deserves better than what's materialized here, a film that's largely forgettable and a pale shadow of his other cinematic adaptations.
Bonhoeffer: Pastor. Spy. Assassin. (2024)
Misses the Mark in Myriad Ways
Heroes come in many forms, and, regrettably, they often go unrecognized for their efforts, which is why movies honoring them for their accomplishments can be so vitally important, particularly in attempts at correcting the oversight of being overlooked. However, when it comes to writer-director Todd Komarnicki's cinematic tribute to Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945) (Jonas Dassler), a little-recognized German theologian who was sharply critical of the Nazis' treatment of Jews and imprisoned dissidents during World War II, that noble goal goes largely unfulfilled. To be perfectly honest, this film is dreadfully dull, relying on a lot of preaching and protracted conversations to carry the narrative, not exactly what I would call engaging and compelling viewing. Indeed, if Bonhoeffer was supposedly so influential in spearheading German resistance against the Third Reich and criticism of Germany's national church for its silence toward and complicity with Adolf Hitler's policies, his initiatives, at least as portrayed here, aren't particularly enlightening or instructive. To make matters worse, the picture's flashback-oriented approach alternating between Bonhoeffer's final days and events from his past lends little to telling his story, occasionally causing pivotal developments in his life to become more muddled than enlightening. Perhaps this production's biggest sin, however, is its alleged tampering with the facts, including events that never took place, others whose content was significantly altered and still more for which there are only vague suggestions about their validity but for which substantial proof is lacking. The result is a release where viewers might easily come away from it not knowing what to believe given its fabrications, alterations and lack of coherence. That's even apparent in the title, whose qualities attributed to the protagonist could be considered specious, at least when it comes to his supposed role as spy and assassin. To its credit, though, there are moments when Bonhoeffer's outspoken views are presented through powerfully delivered statements (though the same could also readily be said of the words of some of his peers), but they're too few and far between for my tastes. In addition, Bonhoeffer's prolific career as a writer goes largely unnoticed, reducing his 34 volumes of work to little more than a footnote and a few passing references. It's truly sad to see a film that gets things wrong as badly as this one does, especially when it comes to recognizing the work of someone who is said to have had as much impact as he did. Unfortunately, the oversights here continue.
Ernest Cole: Lost and Found (2024)
Unfortune That the Second Half Isn't as Good as the First
Chronicling the atrocities of social, political and ethnic persecution is undeniably a courageous and important act, especially when informing a largely unaware public of the horrendous events unfolding out of view. However, doing so can also take quite a toll on those recording such incidents, as seen in the graphic depictions captured in their accounts. Such was the case for South African photographer Ernest Cole (1940-1990), who snapped vivid, troubling images of apartheid in his homeland in the early 1960s. In doing so, he took his life in his hands when photographing what was occurring, often having to shoot photos clandestinely and on the run. But Cole nevertheless managed to record candid images of the disturbing treatment Black citizens received at the hands of a brutal, uncaring, insensitive White population, frequently with the complicity of other Africans. Cole eventually fled to the US, to which he was soon exiled by South African authorities for having published House of Bondage (1967), a book of photos depicting the barbarity of the country's apartheid practices, a title that was subsequently banned in his homeland. Once stateside, though, Cole became disillusioned when he found nearly comparable, legally sanctioned prejudice impacting Blacks in the American South under the region's Jim Crow Laws. That disillusionment, combined with profound case of homesickness and the apparent onset of depression, he withdrew from the photographic work that made him famous. Over the next two decades, he moved about aimlessly, including stints in Sweden and elsewhere before returning to the US, gradually falling into obscurity (including the mysterious disappearance of his photographic archives) and becoming homeless on the streets of New York before his death in 1990. Writer-director Raoul Peck documents Cole's biography through a largely first-person narrative detailing the protagonist's life and outlooks through what are said to be his own words and photos, a novel approach to presenting his story. And, through the film's first half, the production succeeds brilliantly at this. However, once past the midpoint, the picture loses its way. The chronological storytelling approach used at the outset is frequently abandoned in favor of a confusingly disjointed timeline. What's more, Cole's words at times become redundant, and the specifics behind his artistic withdrawal (and the associated effects of that decision) remain cryptic and unexplained, with many pieces of the puzzle conveniently missing. It's also mystifying how Cole is somehow able to offer observations of events that took place after his demise, such as the miraculous but inexplicable rediscovery of much of his archive material in a Swedish bank vault in 2017. Regrettably, however, these changes in direction undermine all of the goodwill that the filmmaker worked so diligently to establish at the beginning. These are decidedly perplexing developments, to be sure, as they affect certain aspects of the film that worked well early on, such as its skillful editing, which just doesn't hold up nearly as well in the back end. To its credit, several elements remain consistently solid throughout, such as the mesmerizing narration of LaKeith Stanfield as the protagonist, the superb original score by Alexei Aigui, and the fine selection of photos and archive footage used for telling Cole's story. Had this release been put together as well in the second half as it had been in the first, this truly would have been an outstanding documentary. But, as it stands now, this feels like an offering that was only half finished, a regrettable outcome for a compelling story about a gifted, enigmatic figure.
Wicked: Part I (2024)
Worth Every Bit of the Hype
It's quite a rare occurrence these days when a much-anticipated film actually lives up to all of its pre-release hype, but this screen adaptation of the hit Broadway musical truly does so in every regard. Director Jon M. Chu has brilliantly brought to life the back story behind the lives and relationship of the two witches from the original L. Frank Baum novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900) and its 1939 classic screen adaptation, as well as Gregory Maguire's 1995 prequel novel, Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West. In this stunningly beautiful and delightful big-screen production, viewers learn how the supposedly evil Elphaba (Cynthia Erivo) came to know the purportedly Glinda the Good (Ariana Grande-Butera), sorcery students and college roommates whose relationship initially went through a series of changes from unabashed contempt to solid friendship. However, as high-level political intrigue unfolds in their homeland of the magical land of Oz - efforts clandestinely spearheaded by the supposedly all-powerful Wizard (Jeff Goldblum) and university headmistress Mme. Morrible (Michelle Yeoh) - Elphaba and Glinda become unwittingly caught up in the high-stakes subterfuge playing out around them, a development that jeopardizes the future of their friendship and the stability of Oz itself. The filmmaker thus subtly but effectively presents audiences with a fable on the nature of good and evil, particularly in terms of what actually constitutes wickedness, especially when it's skillfully veiled. The result is a thoughtful and thoroughly entertaining tale replete with stunning musical numbers, excellent choreography, ample humor, gorgeous cinematography, an inspired production design and superb performances by the four principals, all of whom are certain to be strong awards season candidates (quite a recommendation coming from someone who unapologetically makes no claim to being a fan of musicals). More than that, though, "Wicked" is an insightful treatise on the quest for power and learning how to make judicious use of it, both in personal dealings and in matters of wider consequence, a fitting cautionary tale for our times (or any time, for that matter). If I had any complaint here, it would be my concern that this is yet another example of a story that's been divided up into two installments, a growing trend that I don't believe will ultimately serve the movie industry well. According to the director, this was seen as a necessary step to do justice to the source material, given that it would have been nearly impossible to cram everything into one picture without doing major damage to the content. And, to give the filmmaker the benefit of the doubt, perhaps that will ultimately prove true with the release of part 2 in 2025 (but I'll reserve judgment on that for the time being). In the meantime, though, this first part comes through as promised, and, in this day and age, that's a cinematic miracle in itself.
Lee (2023)
Surprisingly Overlooked
There are times when many of us feel compelled to pursue something for reasons that we don't fully understand but that we can't walk away from, either, no matter what the personal cost may be. So it was for former fashion model Elizabeth "Lee" Miller (Kate Winslet), who, after a successful career of sporting haute couture, became a battlefield photographer for the British edition of Vogue magazine during World War II. Admittedly, she could have enjoyed a life of luxury in her retirement, but she felt a strong need to fulfill a purpose, a decision that led her to willingly immerse herself in this dangerous venture, one in which her life was frequently on the line. However, in doing so, she captured some of the most iconic images of the war in Europe, the stories behind which are recounted and re-created in this engaging biopic from director Ellen Kuras. In chronicling Miller's life, the film details the hard choices she made, both personally and professionally, as well as her drive to document the hard truth about a conflict for which the world didn't always have ready access to news about, at least not in the on-demand way we do today. While the picture has a tendency to be somewhat episodic at times, it nevertheless presents a series of intriguing back stories behind a variety of incidents from the storied career of this unlikely but widely regarded journalist. This offering's fine period piece production design effectively captures the differences between the two diverse worlds in which the protagonist lived - the elegance of high fashion and the gritty wartime landscape - backed by Winslet's superb performance (a strong awards season contender, to be sure) and the fine supporting portrayals from an excellent ensemble cast, including Andrea Riseborough, Marion Cotillard, Samuel Barnett and a surprisingly effective Andy Samberg. These attributes aside, though, it's somewhat mystifying how this release came and went from theaters as quickly as it did. "Lee" truly deserved wider attention than it received, but, thankfully, it's now available for streaming. It takes courage to stick to one's convictions in a time of combat, especially when the potential cost to oneself is as high as it was for Miller, but the world is better off for her valiant efforts in showing us what we might have missed but about which we all desperately needed to know.
Disco Afrika: une histoire malgache (2023)
How History Rhymes
An old saying maintains that "Those who don't learn from history are destined to repeat it." But an arguably more accurate take on that sentiment was espoused by author Mark Twain, who asserted that "History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes." That thinking is perhaps one of the most precise ways of describing the history of the African island nation of Madagascar since gaining its independence from France in 1960. In the time since then, the country has undergone a series of uprisings between rival factions on the right and left, with the nation's residents - the Malagasy people - caught in the middle, suffering the social, political and economic consequences, conditions that have continued virtually unabated to this day. In his second feature outing, writer-director Luck Razanajaona has brought these circumstances to light in a project that has taken years to complete, one set in contemporary Madagascar but that, realistically speaking, could have taken place almost at any time since the 1970s. The film follows 20-year-old Kwame (Parista Sambo), an independent prospector clandestinely panning for gems in the nation's sapphire reserves in hopes of striking it rich to provide for his aging mother (Laurette Ramasinjanahary). But, when an unexpected tragedy occurs, he's forced to return home to save himself and regroup. Once there, though, while searching for work, he soon becomes caught up between rival factions seeking to maintain power and reformers looking to oust those who have made life miserable for everyday Malagasies. At the same time, Kwame faces a moral dilemma - whether to remain loyal to an influential but shady childhood companion, Idi (Joe Clarence Lerova), who promises to help him find the remains of his deceased father (a murder victim killed by authorities years earlier), or to expose the corruption of his seemingly respectable friend to those seeking sociopolitical reform. It's a difficult choice for someone so young and inexperienced, but finding a way to reconcile these options is essential to staying alive in such a volatile environment. The filmmaker creates undeniable tension in this story as it plays out, shining a bright light on a nation whose internal struggles are palpable but little known or understood to the outside world. What's more, this offering features innovative ways of chronicling the nature of the island nation's troubles, such as showing the influence of music in their unfolding (hence the title), as well as the surrealistic impact of deceased ancestors guiding the living through their ordeals. Admittedly, this release might have benefitted from some additional back story references (at least for viewers from outside of the region), but, as a film almost certainly made for audiences already familiar with these events, their inclusion here might have seemed a little too obvious or heavy-handed. "Disco Afrika" speaks volumes about its nation's status and does so with great candor and eloquence in telling the story of a people desperate for change and the difficulties involved in realizing it, no matter how hard they work at it.
Black Table (2024)
Ultimately Feels a Little Thin
Those in the minority - no matter what the defining trait associated with that might be - often find comfort, support and camaraderie in the company of kindred spirits when surrounded by others who don't share this commonality. For African-American students at Yale University in the 1990s, this could be found at "the Black Table," a gathering spot for those similarly situated within Commons, the university's legendary cavernous dining hall, a venue resembling a setting out of the "Harry Potter" movies. The Black Table served as an oasis for students of color in the midst of a predominantly White (and not always particularly tolerant) student body, a place where they could share ideas, swap stories, engage in discussions (sometimes heated) and find common ground. The experiences of students who availed themselves of this era's version of a social network thus provide the basis for this documentary from writer-directors John Antonio James and Billy Mack. The film examines what the students gained from their interactions with one another and how they collectively faced the sometimes-challenging conditions that prevailed on campus and in society at large at the time. It also serves as a springboard for explorations of an array of other subjects, such as the impact of affirmative action on minority admissions (a controversial program that was undergoing change at the time) and how their tenure at Yale prepared them for life after college. However, "Black Table" works best when it focuses on the aspects associated with its core premise, its offshoot tangents frequently getting somewhat off-track and acting more like filler. And, because of that, the end result here inevitably reveals that there may not have been enough material in the first place to build a full feature film around it. Indeed, this release likely would have made a better extended short or episode of a PBS series. The alumni's time at the Black Table obviously meant much to them, but those experiences would have made for a better film with greater depth and attention focused on them than what this release ultimately offers.
Color Book (2024)
A Magnificent Piece of Filmmaking
I always find it amazing when a movie comes along that's effectively able to warm and break one's heart at the same time, but that's precisely the feat accomplished by writer-director David Fritz Fortune's impressive debut feature. This simple but powerful, moving tale tells the touching story of a recently widowed single father (William Catlett) who goes to tremendous lengths to take his Down Syndrome-affected son (Jeremiah Alexander Daniels) to his first baseball game in hopes that it will help cheer him up in the wake of the untimely death of his mother (Brandee Evans). Beautifully filmed in black and white, the picture follows the adventures and misadventures of a devoted Atlanta father doing everything he can to care for his special needs child while simultaneously attempting to bring a little joy into his life, all the while dealing with his own grief at the loss of the wife he truly adored. In doing so, the filmmaker serves up a thoroughly engaging story about love and the challenges to maintain it under trying circumstances such as these, a film filled with laughs, tears, setbacks and milestone victories. There's nothing especially fancy about this offering, but its sustained, earnest authenticity is palpable and enveloping without ever becoming manipulative, melodramatic or schmaltzy. It's no exaggeration to say that it earns whatever feelings it evokes among viewers, an accomplishment magnificently achieved through cinematic devices as basic as powerful facial expressions, the undeniable warmth and chemistry between father and son, and gorgeous, unpretentious imagery. Admittedly, this release feels a little stretched out in the final act, almost as if the filmmaker wasn't quite sure how to wrap things up. But, that minor shortcoming aside, it's easy to see how "Color Book" captured the Chicago International Film Festival Audience Favorite Award for US Features - it's truly that good. This festival release may be a little difficult to find at the moment, but it deserves a general release, showing us what's possible where there's love - and plenty of it - the kind of story that we could all stand to see more of these days.
Jimmy (2024)
Ambitious But Underdeveloped
From 1948 to 1957, author James Baldwin relocated from New York to Paris in hopes of finding a more fulfilling life, both personally and creatively. But what was that experience actually like for a young African-American man who had grown wary of the relentless discrimination he had faced in his homeland, both on the basis of his race and sexual orientation? That's what this documentary-style release attempts to envision, following a young Baldwin (Benny O. Arthur) in his explorations of the City of Lights, told from an impressionist standpoint primarily in cinema verité format made to look like vintage archive footage. The result is an experimental, decidedly ambitious undertaking from writer-director Yashaddai Owens that works beautifully on some levels but misses the mark on others. "Jimmy" effectively captures the curiosity and wonder of a wide-eyed adventurer exploring a new world, one in which he's able to enjoy freedoms that weren't accessible to him in America. It's a place where he could now feel a sense of liberation unlike anything he had experienced before. However, in depicting these revelations, the filmmaker puzzlingly seems to run out of material unexpectedly quickly, a rather perplexing outcome for a picture with scant 1:07:00 runtime that features an innately flamboyant, charismatic protagonist in a rich, culturally and artistically diverse environment. Instead, the narrative falls back on a lot of footage that feels more like filler than insightful and engaging imagery. In addition, having been filmed in modern-day Paris, far too little effort has been made at trying to conceal or exclude anachronistic elements that get caught on camera, an oversight that some might call nitpicking but that occurs all too often to ignore. Some aspects of Baldwin's character receive short shrift, too, such as precious little attention paid to the emergence of his gay lifestyle, an element that almost feels intentionally underplayed. The same can be said about his observations of life and the world, material that adds much when incorporated into the film but that is employed far too seldomly for my tastes. However, perhaps the most bewildering element here is the production's inclusion of a somewhat lengthy home movie-style travelogue of Istanbul at the film's outset with no images of Baldwin anywhere in sight. While it's true that the author lived in the Turkish metropolis on and off for many years, he didn't spend time there until after his days in Paris, so the presence of this footage is quite baffling, ill-timed and, ultimately, fundamentally extraneous. To be sure, "Jimmy" is to be commended for its casting of a lead who bears an uncanny resemblance and demeanor to the picture's protagonist and for tackling an undertaking as audacious as this, but the end result comes across as a case of the filmmaker's reach exceeding his grasp for a project that, sadly, deserves better.
Saturn (2024)
Sci-fi Worthy of Wider Attention
Moral dilemmas often call for making hard choices, matters necessitating profound, introspective soul-searching. And, as this insightful sci-fi offering illustrates, it's a process that not only includes us mortals, but also extends to supernatural beings possessing tremendous powers and even greater responsibilities. When the Earth's existence is threatened by the sudden appearance of an enormous, mysterious, seemingly menacing planet in the sky above, a mild-mannered professor and family man (Dominic Bogart) who carries a secret about his true nature must decide whether to continue living out the life he so dearly enjoys or live up to an ancient obligation as a protector of the world. Can he make the right choice between quiet domestic contentment with his wife (Piercey Dalton) and son (Elijah Maximus), or must he inevitably bring himself to sacrifice this tranquil life in order to fulfill his sacred responsibility of keeping his promise to save a questionably deserving planet, one that has repeatedly failed through the ages to attain the stability and social maturity hoped for it by its guardian shepherds? Such is the heady question presented in writer-director Eric Esau's morality play set in a world of extraordinary circumstances. The filmmaker's third feature outing provides viewers with a look into a scenario where much is on the line for both the planet and for one of the individuals sworn to save it, along with the personal reflection he must undergo in deciding which choice to make. While the film could occasionally use some quickened pacing in the first half, it nevertheless delivers on its central premise with ample heartfelt emotion, a quality rarely seen in sci-fi offerings to the degree that it's on display here, a trait that truly sets this release apart from other such pictures that rely more heavily on special effects and other glitzy gimmicks to carry the story. It might even bring a tear to one's eye, something almost unheard of for releases in this genre. Admittedly, though, finding this offering may take some effort at the moment, as it has been principally playing the film festival circuit, but it's a movie decidedly deserving of wider attention as a theatrical or streaming release. If you're an ardent fan of movies like this, "Saturn" should definitely be on your watchlist.
A Real Pain (2024)
An Adept Search for Self
Finding ourselves, particularly the process of finding what we've lost about ourselves, can be an eye-opening, enlightening but sometimes-painful ordeal, especially if we're unclear about where to look. For many of us, though, this is a challenge we often attempt to resolve by examining our past, specifically that of our family and its legacy, in hopes that it provides the answers we seek. Such is the quest embarked upon by two once-close cousins, David (Jesse Eisenberg) and Benji (Kieran Culkin), who journey to Poland on an intimate heritage tour to visit the homestead of their beloved deceased grandmother, a Holocaust survivor who made her way to America after World War II. While David and Benji were at one time as thick as thieves, they've drifted apart over time, each becoming significantly different from one another, but they hope to reestablish their longstanding connection through this intensely personal pilgrimage. As their odyssey unfolds, though, they come face to face with the changes that have arisen both in their relationship and in their understandings of themselves, from life goals to their cultural background as the descendants of Polish Jews to how they fundamentally relate to the world. It's an often-difficult process for these earnest seekers, especially in light of their discovery that, if they truly wish to better understand themselves, they can only go so far in looking outward, instead needing to look inward for guidance and meaningful insight. And its aptly selected title is an ably suitable metaphor on multiple levels, not only in describing Benji's often-manic, irrational and unpredictable behavior, but also in characterizing the anguish that he and David undergo in making their way through this emotional minefield. This second feature effort from actor-writer-director Eisenberg is indeed an impressive offering, even if its road trip/buddy movie script could use some periodic tweaking in terms of focus and its balance between comedy and drama. More significantly, however, this is a breakout performance for Culkin, who shows just how adept he can be with the right material, an award-worthy portrayal, to be sure. Add to this the film's gorgeous cinematography of Polish landmarks and the country's landscapes, as well as its fittingly appropriate Frédéric Chopin soundtrack, and you've got a profoundly thoughtful release, one that should give anyone in the cousins' shoes pause for reflection, something from which we can all benefit from time to time, no matter what we're ultimately looking for.
The Weekend (2024)
A Deliciously Macabre Treat
Many of us look on the concept of "family" as sacred and unassailable. But, if someone were to stringently advise you against meeting his or her relatives, it may be a recommendation worth heeding, as seen in this intense Nigerian horror thriller. When a young woman (Uzoamaka Aniunoh) who grew up as an only child under a single mother pleads with her fiancé (Bucci Franklin) to introduce her to his family, he emphatically recommends against it, insisting that they're not the kind of people that she should want to meet. However, his lack of elaboration as to why only steels to resolve to make this happen, eventually prompting him to reluctantly relent to her wishes. They thus set off for a weekend visit to the rural village of his parents (Gloria Young, Keppy Ekpenyong-Bassey) for their golden wedding anniversary celebration. Once there, though, his family's dark secrets slowly emerge, leading to the disclosure of shocking revelations that live up to all the advanced billing attributed to them. To say more would reveal too much, but suffice it to say that the trip discloses much more than what the young bride-to-be had bargained for. In telling this story, director Daniel Oriahi serves up a perfectly gruesome tale filled with lots of good scares and a deliciously macabre sense of humor that grows progressively more campy with each passing frame. Indeed, it's the kind of yarn that will leave viewers nervously laughing at events that they probably think they shouldn't be giggling about, but therein lies the film's carefully crafted guilty pleasure appeal. Admittedly, those qualities may not be as readily apparent as they probably ought to be in the picture's opening act, leaving audience members thinking that the narrative is unduly mean-spirited, but those developments are all integral to the setup for what's to come, a foundation that allows this offering's wicked humor to surface in all its grisly glory. The filmmaker deftly presents his material for maximum shock value but without becoming gratuitous or grotesque, quite a feat for a movie like this, one very much in line with the principles of Hitchcock's Rule that one's imagination is far more effective in conjuring ghastly images than anything the director could possibly depict on screen. "The Weekend" is thus one of those pictures that will evoke notions of what it feels like to whistle one's way through the graveyard at midnight on Halloween, leaving viewers with lots of good frights but nevertheless secure in the knowledge that they'll emerge from the theater well and intact, able to face yet another day, even if it means occasionally looking over their shoulder to see that there are no unwelcome relatives following them home.
The Black Sea (2024)
A Genuinely Warm, Funny Charmer
Being a stranger in a strange land can be an uncomfortable, exasperating experience. At the same time, though, it can also be just what one needs, especially for those seeking to turn their lives around. Such is the case with Khalid (actor-director Derrick B. Harden), a genial, ambitious, opportunistic African-American dreamer from Brooklyn who, sadly, just doesn't seem to be able to get his act together. But, when he's offered a lucrative new opportunity - one he finds on Facebook of all places - to relocate to Sozopol, a small Bulgarian resort town on the Black Sea coast, to become the "companion" of a woman in desperate "need" of finding a Black man (on the advice of a fortune teller), he jumps at the chance. There's just one hitch - hours before his arrival, she dies, thereby stranding him without his payment and the means to return home. Those circumstances are further complicated when his passport is stolen, leaving him stuck and unable to book a flight back to the US. He thus reluctantly becomes reconciled to the idea of having to stay put for a while as he attempts to sort out his circumstances. However, the more time he spends in his unexpected new home, the more he finds himself easily fitting in and making friends with the locals, especially Ina (Irmena Chichikova), the owner of a travel agency and his eventual business partner in a popular café/night spot. And, except for some menacing dealings with a powerful local godfather (Stoyo Mirkov) who's accustomed to being the community's top dog (and resents being upstaged by the popular new arrival), things generally go well for the unwitting transplant. But will they stay that way? Directors Harden and Crystal Moselle have put together a real charmer in this warm, funny comedy-drama chronicling the evolution of an infectiously likable character beset with a seemingly impossible challenge but who aggressively hustles to successfully make lemonade out of the big bushel of lemons that's been handed him. The story's focus on a hapless but amiable everyman who's unceremoniously marooned in a wholly unfamiliar setting (one that most American viewers are also likely unfamiliar with) in which he doesn't speak the language gives this film a distinctive character all its own, a refreshing development in light of the current sagging state of the domestic movie industry. Despite some occasional narrative meandering, this offering is otherwise a real gem, a heartwarming comedy in which one can't help but pull for the underdog, no matter how much he might slip up or inadvertently get in his own way. "The Black Sea" is indeed a rare find, one that now genuinely deserves to have an audience find it.
Heretic (2024)
Lipstick on a Pig
No matter what anyone might say, putting lipstick on a pig doesn't change the fact that one is still dealing with a pig. And that's very much the case with this dismally failed attempt at smart horror from writer-directors Scott Beck and Bryan Woods. When two naïve Mormon missionaries (Sophie Thatcher, Chloe East) visit the remote home of a creepy, loquacious middle-aged loner (Hugh Grant) in an attempt to convert him, the trio launches into a protracted conversation about the nature of "the one true religion." To a certain extent, it's an intriguing philosophical discussion - at least for a while - until it gradually descends into a series of longwinded fits and starts characterized by disjointed, unrelated, unresolved segments that try viewer patience. The dialogue increasingly amounts to a series of overwrought contrivances undermined by implausible character development, particularly among the two supposed innocents who begin spouting lines that are difficult to accept in light of their supposedly gullible, unsophisticated nature and narrow worldview. But then, in a desperate attempt to retain fading audience attention, the picture degenerates into little more than a meandering slasher movie, albeit with better production design than one typically finds in such fare. What's more, this offering's exasperating script heavily "borrows" from an endless stream of religious, philosophical and cinematic sources, one even suggesting that this could turn into the second coming of "The Butterfly Effect" and "Matrix" franchises. And, while Grant and his co-stars genuinely deliver more than capable portrayals of the three principals, even their performances aren't enough to cover the inherent weaknesses of this material, no matter how much lipstick is applied to ir. Considering the foregoing, I'm truly mystified by the much-celebrated response this offering has been accorded given its tiresome narrative and pretentious, largely pointless overall direction, an experiment that just doesn't work. As a fan of the smart horror genre and its aim of elevating the content of more classic releases in this area of cinema, I'm seriously disappointed that the inspired creators of "A Quiet Place" (2018) haven't come up with something better here, an outcome that's definitely heretical in itself.
Godless (2024)
Thought-Provoking, If Somewhat Stagey
In an age where questions have emerged related to adequately maintaining a firewall between church and state, increasing numbers of controversies have arisen that threaten to undermine the sanctity of this basic principle of American civics. And those hot-button controversies are now brought front and center in writer-director Michael Ricigliano's debut feature, a morality play that tackles one of these issues head on. When a progressive Democratic governor of New York (Ana Ortiz) signs into law a bill guaranteeing same-sex marriage and vows to do the same for legislation allowing for late-term abortions, the devoutly Catholic head of state comes under heavy, morality-based pressure from the bishop of her Brooklyn diocese (Harry Lennix). He threatens to excommunicate her for her actions, allegedly blasphemous deeds that he contends violate fundamental Roman Catholic teachings. On top of this, the fallout from the cleric's decision stands to undermine the Governor's presidential aspirations, a venture for which she has been enjoying generally solid support. The bishop's dictate also upsets his ecclesiastical peers, such as the cardinal from his diocese (Dan Grimaldi) and his superiors in Rome, who see it as an extreme measure that promises to further weaken the declining standing of the Church with a public increasingly in favor of greater liberalization and reform. But, on an even bigger scale, this debate raises questions related to where the influence of a religious leader should end when it comes to the part he plays in attempting to dictate public policy, specifically where his word impacts the decision-making process of officials like the Governor. At the same time, though, it also raises questions for the Governor in matters of following her conscience vs. Serving the needs and wants of the people: At what point should she allow or deny her personal convictions to play a part in making policy? These are among the heady issues raised in this thoughtful political drama, matters that are addressed intelligently and from a variety of angles, giving viewers much to ponder and for which there are no easy answers, the underlying principle of separation of church and state notwithstanding. Indeed, things may not be as cut and dried as most of us might automatically assume. However, while the presentation of these questions is certainly commendable, their execution here at times comes across as somewhat overlong and stagey, material perhaps better suited to Broadway than the silver screen. In some respects, this treatment makes these arguments come across more like a late night college dorm lounge discussion than convincing and engaging cinematic drama, admirable though the content of these dialogues might be. This is not to suggest that these conversations are without merit, but some may consider them stilted and a tad dry. The filmmaker's decision to set this story in a specific time period - 2012 and the years that follow - is rather problematic, too, given that this time frame already has its own established history and that this narrative would seem to rewrite the documented happenings of that period, an issue that could have been resolved simply by not grounding this story in a specific timeline. Still, these drawbacks aside, "Godless" nevertheless gives us much to think about that should not be dismissed casually, especially in a time when maintaining the firewall is essential to the fates of both church and state going forward - and where we can draw an acceptable line that suits everyone on both fronts.
Conclave (2024)
Has Everything But the Story
It's more than a little frustrating when a film seemingly has all of the elements needed to make it work except the one that's most crucial, the one that enables a production to brilliantly succeed or doom it to failure - the story. Such is the case with director Edward Berger's latest, the much-anticipated, much-celebrated drama about the convening of a papal conclave to select a new pope. From a technical standpoint, the filmmaker has pulled together everything that should make this an epic picture - a gorgeous production design, stunning and inventive cinematography, and a stellar cast featuring superb performances by the likes of Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow and Isabella Rossellini, as well as fine turns by such lesser-known performers (at least to American audiences) as Lucian Msamati and Sergio Castellito. The picture also raises some insightful observations (though a little too infrequently for my tastes) about the current state of the Roman Catholic Church, particularly its foot-dragging on implementing reforms, the incessant high-profile scandals that have rocked the institution, and the rising tide of unflattering public perceptions among its increasingly skeptical practitioners, all of which weigh heavily on the College of Cardinals in determining who should be named as the new Holy Father. Unfortunately, though, the story and script leave a lot to be desired. For starters, much of the film's opening act moves by at a glacial pace, frequently causing one's eyelids to become more than a little heavy. As the picture moves into the meat of the story - the conclave itself - it waxes somewhat melodramatic, not unlike a glorified 1980s prime time TV soap opera. Its attempt to come across as an intrigue-laced thriller amounts to more than a succession of backstabbing segments in which the leading candidates to become the next pontiff are systematically eliminated through the revelation of skeletons in their respective closets. Finally, as the movie enters the stretch run, it throws in several twists and turns that either come completely out of left field (and somewhat implausibly at that) or that predictably materialize on cue thanks to the planting of patently obvious clues early on that were wholly impossible to ignore as the story plays out. Regrettably, these narrative foibles undermine all of the other fine attributes that this production has going for it, ultimately amounting to a case of being long on style but a little skimpy on substance, a shortcoming that also plagued Berger's last feature outing, "All Quiet on the Western Front" (2022). Unlike many others who have been so profoundly moved and thoroughly captivated by this release, perhaps my not having been born and raised Roman Catholic has somehow prevented me from fully appreciating the depth and magnitude accorded to this offering's contents. But, as someone who seeks to evaluate everything I screen on an equal footing, I can't help but observe that "Conclave" simply doesn't measure up when it comes to what it takes to make a genuine big screen epic.
Anora (2024)
Don't Fall for the Hype
We're all familiar with the old adage that, if something seems too good to be true, it probably is. It's a notion that applies not only to what can happen in everyday life, but also to what shows up on the big screen, as the latest feature from writer-director Sean Baker illustrates. This widely acclaimed indie offering follows the misadventures of a Brooklyn lap dancer/sex worker (Mikey Madison) who falls for the insanely rich, self-absorbed, wildly irresponsible son of a Russian oligarch (Mark Eydelshteyn). Together they take the plunge into an edgy, wacked-out fairy tale, a dark storybook romance strung out on steroids, quaaludes and crack. Their whirlwind affair soon lands them in Las Vegas, culminating in a green card wedding that junior's mobster parents (Darya Ekamasova, Aleksey Serebryakov) want annulled at any cost, even if it means calling on their oily, bumbling posse of cronies and heavies (Karren Karagulian, Vache Tovmasyan, Yura Borisov) to lean on the alleged lovebirds. But achieving that goal ultimately proves more difficult than imagined. As a cross-country chase ensues, a string of frenzied events leaves mom, dad and friends infuriated and the Gothamite Cinderella disillusioned, having erroneously thought she'd truly hit the jackpot this time. From this, one might easily think this premise has a solid foundation for an outrageous, uproarious comedy, but, sadly, the film lives up to its potential only some of the time. To be sure, there is some genuinely hysterical, wonderfully inventive material here, but it only hits the mark about half the time. What's more, much of the story (especially in the film's first half) is predictable, almost clichéd, with some bits dragging on needlessly long. Indeed, I'm somewhat mystified as to what all the critical fuss is about, something perhaps best evidenced by the picture's capture of the Palme d'Or at this year's Cannes Film Festival, the event's highest honor. I readily admit to being a fan of Baker's work, having immensely enjoyed his previous efforts "Red Rocket" (2021), "The Florida Project" (2017) and "Tangerine" (2015). But I'm genuinely at a loss to understand the level of praise that's been lavished on this release. It's a capable film in a number of respects, but the filmmaker clearly has done better, and those prior offerings make better viewing options in my opinion. Don't fall for all the hype here, as this really is one of those cases of something being too good to be true.
Parvulos (2024)
Something for Everyone
It takes real talent for a filmmaker to successfully combine elements from several different genres in one picture and make the finished product work, but that's precisely what Mexican writer-director Issac Ezban has done in his latest offering. This post-Apocalyptic sci-fi saga fuses elements of classic horror, smart horror, high camp and zombie tales into an entertaining guilty pleasure that features moments of frightfulness and comedy, as well as heartwarming nods to tender family togetherness (albeit not in the most typical sense). In a world where things have fallen apart due to the effects of an inadequately tested vaccine used in treating the virus behind a global pandemic (a timely touch), those who have managed to stay unaffected have taken refuge in remote hideaways, trying to stave off the diseased monsters that now roam the landscape. Such is the case with three brothers (Mateo Ortega Casillas, Leonardo Cervantes, Farid Escalante Correa) who have holed up in a remote forest house that they found in their wanderings. But, despite their ardent efforts to survive, there are still monsters all about, including in the basement of their new home. "Párvulos" is thus their challenge-ridden tale to stay alive, one filled with terror, as well as unexpected laughs (including a music video parody montage) and a host of strangers who cross their paths, making everyday life perpetually interesting. The story is effectively brought to life with fine performances by the three young actors and inventive cinematography featuring an intriguing palette of black-and-white images tinged with bleak red and green accents, a suitable color scheme befitting the nature of the film and its setting. The use of red, of course, is integral to the ample blood and guts on display here, so sensitive viewers may want to take heed, although such gratuitousness is wholly appropriate for the tenor of the narrative, often enhancing the campy aspects of this story. Perhaps my only issue with this release is that its script sometimes meanders somewhat more than I'd like, with certain plot developments seemingly emerging out of left field - not that they're ill-conceived, but their appearance feels a little more happenstance than expected. Still in all, this multi-genre offering is a ghoulishly fun romp with a macabre sense of humor, good scares and a few surprisingly heart-tugging moments. And, with a combination of qualities like that, what more could anyone ask for?
Alpha. (2024)
The Dangerous Competition of Father and Son
The dynamics of father-son relationships can assume a variety of forms. Some resemble the so-called "best buddy" bonds, while others can be quite toxic. And then there are those that are highly competitive, connections where father and son are constantly (and not necessarily consciously) engaged in an ongoing game of one-upsmanship as each strives to be top dog in the relationship, bonds that frequently (and curiously) exhibit both healthy respect and quiet disdain for one another. That's very much the case in the relationship between Rein (Reinout Scholten van Aschat), a thoughtful, reserved snowboarding instructor and would-be composer living in the Swiss Alps, who's paid a visit by his outgoing father, Gijs (Gijs Scholten van Aschat), an actor visiting from the Netherlands. It's the first time they've seen one another since the death of their wife/mother three months earlier, so both are still dealing with their grief (although, admittedly, in very different ways). Nevertheless, there's hope that this time together will promote a sense of reconnection, reconciliation and healing. However, as their reunion unfolds, the nature of their apparently longstanding competitive relationship gradually surfaces. Gijs unabashedly likes to think he's the alpha male - a hard-drinking, adventurous, flirtatious man's man - while Rein sees himself as more introspective, contemplative and politically correct, despite the fact that his passively assertive side routinely emerges, particularly when the two hit the slopes and embark on a challenging mountain climbing expedition. It's almost as if Junior wants to show up the Old Man while still thinking of himself as the more cool, composed and mature one. But this generational competition takes a decidedly hazardous turn when father and son find themselves in serious danger from the extremes of the elements, conditions that are bigger than both of them. So what's to become of their connection now, given that their mutual safety has been perilously threatened? Writer-director Jan-Willem van Ewijk's latest tells a tension-filled tale that, regrettably, all too many fathers and sons have experienced for themselves - not necessarily in terms of the potential physical harm depicted in this scenario, but certainly in terms of the severe emotional disconnect shown here. "Alpha" examines the contentious dynamics of this duo as they warily attempt to traverse the razor's edge of their confrontational relationship, an exploration that strays from aggressively playful competition to something seriously dire. It accomplishes this goal with ample deftly handled nuance, successfully avoiding the temptation to become heavy-handed and preachy. In fact, there's even an air of thought-provoking ambiguity that pervades the narrative, leaving lingering doubts in the minds of viewers as to what's unfolding while simultaneously reinforcing the troubling nature of bonds like this. These elements are sublimely enhanced by an atmospheric original score and positively gorgeous cinematography, especially in its winter sports footage. While the film is generally economically shot, it tends to be a little stretched out in the final 30 minutes, becoming a tad redundant thematically and photographically. In addition, there are occasions where the back story could have used some shoring up, a tweak that might have helped bolster the picture's character development. With that said, however, there's much to compensate for these minor shortcomings, such as the pairing of an actual father-son acting duo in the lead roles, a masterful casting decision that lends an authenticity to the performances that's undeniable. Indeed, "Alpha." is one of those rare movies that rings true on so many levels that it may at times be hard to believe that this is a work of fiction, but it achieves that goal so convincingly that one can't help but be affected by it, especially in the hopes that our own relationships work out better than the one profiled here.
African Giants (2024)
Interesting But Unresolved
The immigrant experience is different for everyone who goes through it, though there are some commonalities, too, regardless of where one hails from. And the impact of this experience doesn't end with those who make the journey from elsewhere; it also affects the first generation of children born to those who immigrated, particularly in their struggle to dutifully honor their heritage while assimilating into the domestic culture of their new homeland. Those are among the issues addressed in writer-director Omar Kamara's debut feature, the story of two American-born sons of immigrants from Sierra Leone who spend a long weekend together in Los Angeles. Alhaji (Dillon Daniel Mutyaba), the elder brother, is an aspiring actor seeking to make his big break, while Sheku (Omete Anassi), his junior sibling, is an accomplished but restless law school student at Georgetown University. Together they engage in lengthy discussions on a variety of subjects, such as whether they consider themselves "Africans" or "African-Americans" (and the cultural considerations and social stigmas that come with each), whether or not they should continue to practice the Islamic faith with which they were raised, and various career- and family-related matters, including their relationship with one another. Their conversations are sometimes revelatory, occasionally playful and periodically contentious as they seek to find themselves through one another. Unfortunately, much of the narrative is dominated by such exchanges, making the film quite talky at times (especially in the overlong and somewhat tedious opening segment). What's more, though, many of these dialogues never lead to much in the way of identifiable outcomes, instead consisting largely of open-ended questions that are raised and tossed back and forth but rarely adequately resolved. Perhaps that's by design to illustrate the fluid, ever-changing, often-contradictory nature of the lives and relationships of those who are first generation immigrant children. At the same time, however, it often makes for frustrating viewing, as audience members may find themselves left unsatisfied by what they're shown. For me, I often felt like the brothers are talking in circles, sometimes contradicting themselves and ultimately never getting any closer to meaningful clarity. This is not to suggest that what they discuss is uninteresting (despite the fact that their exchanges sometimes grow a little too protracted); it just feels like most of their conversations never really go anywhere. And that's unfortunate, given that this production represents a missed opportunity to shed light on something that many viewers may have had little exposure to. Maybe the expectation of a tidy ending is a little too much to hope for in a scenario like this, but the vagaries with which viewers are presented leaves something to be desired, too.
Der Spatz im Kamin (2024)
A Pretentious Cinematic Trainwreck
To be blunt, I really dislike arthouse films that give the genre a bad name, yet writer-director Ramon Zürcher's third feature outing regrettably does just that. This pretentious, meandering exercise in allegedly profound cinema falls flat shortly after it begins and never recovers, growing ever more pointless, unfocused and self-important as it unfolds. Set in the rural childhood home of two very different and quietly combative sisters (Maren Eggert, Britta Hammelstein), the film follows the events associated with a birthday celebration involving the siblings and their families. As the festivities (if they can be called that) begin to play out, however, it quickly becomes apparent that this party will go anything but smoothly given its cast of largely reprehensible characters, nearly all of whom utter their hate-filled insults with stoically deadpan monotone delivery. This examination of a seriously troubled family, in turn, increasingly draws heavily from "The Big Book of Domestic Dysfunctional Drama," with virtually every character possessing a crippling physical and/or psychological disorder, qualities that shape their pervasively ugly demeanors. This hodgepodge of elements is thus employed in a futile attempt to build some type of cohesive narrative, presumably in an effort to depict the descent into madness. But this goal is never adequately realized, thanks in large part to a wealth of superficial, pedestrian dialogue that tries mightily to pass itself off as enigmatically "meaningful" and several preposterous surreal segments that are all show and no substance. And, no matter how much the filmmaker seeks to cover up these innate weaknesses by embellishing them with stunning still life cinematography, the strains of atmospheric classical music and long, lingering facial close-ups, the overall mix of elements just doesn't work, growing progressively more muddled, laughable and tedious as this tiresome offering wears on...and on...and on. To make matters worse, though, the film also incorporates some positively repugnant images, such as a young woman slicing up her bloody hand on a cheese grater and a cat being locked into a washing machine that's subsequently switched on, a shamefully disgusting sequence that's wholly uncalled for, regardless of how simulated it may have been. It's beyond me how this disastrous project got the green light to begin with, but this is handily one of the worst films of 2024, one that doesn't deserve whatever attention and accolades it may erroneously garner.
Klandestin WT (2024)
A Genuine Knock-out
Movies that tell the same story from multiple standpoints are among my personal favorites. With each retelling, new information is revealed that, when considered collectively, provides viewers with an intriguing tale, almost as if it were a case of putting together the pieces of a puzzle. And that's precisely what writer-director Angelina Maccarone has expertly accomplished in her latest feature, a thriller told from the perspectives of four characters set against the backdrop of a terrorist bombing in the heart of Frankfurt's financial district, an incident that hangs over all of them despite not having anything directly to do with any of them. The picture follows the experiences of a young Moroccan refugee (Habib Adda) seeking a better life in Europe who's unwittingly illegally smuggled onto the continent from Tangiers by his would-be lover (Lambert Wilson), a renowned English painter getting ready for a gallery opening in Frankfurt. As this unexpected, clandestine episode unfolds, the artist seeks the discreet help of his longtime friend, a powerful, influential, and often-cold and roundly disliked conservative German politician (Barbara Sukowa), and her savvy executive aide (Banafshe Hourmazdi), the German-born daughter of Moroccan immigrant parents who's an expert in European Union law. Their individual stories are presented in chapters devoted to each of them, with a concluding sequence that ties them all together. The film's masterfully penned screenplay keeps viewers on their toes as the narrative unfolds, leaving us riveted and wondering how events will ultimately play out, particularly the impact that the outcome will have on each of them and a host of supporting players in the shadow of the larger story that has all of Frankfurt on edge. That's true on multiple levels, too, given that revelation of the picture's often-public ramifications are driven by highly personal concerns relating to interpersonal affairs, national and ancestral identity, political clout, sexual orientation, and various other considerations, making for complex, multidimensional characters who are effectively brought to life by this offering's superb ensemble cast. "Turning Tables" is a genuine knock-out, one on par with any of the best thrillers produced by major Hollywood studios and clearly illustrating that many of the contemporary challenges faced by Europeans aren't all that different from what many of us might like to think of as purely American concerns. Give this one a look, and don't be surprised if it takes your breath away.
Ohjus (2024)
Brilliantly Conceived, Eminently Empowering and Delightfully Quirky
Who would have thought that a reserved, homespun single mother of two married to an abusive imprisoned husband could turn her life around by writing about the dangers of nuclear proliferation? But, if you're Niina Kuittinen (Oona Airola), a young housewife living in rural Lapland, that's precisely what happens when she takes a reporting job with a local newspaper and unwittingly stumbles into a story that almost any intrepid journalist would kill for - the crash of an off-course Soviet missile in the Finnish wilderness in 1984. She eagerly investigates the incident, despite limited experience as a reporter, little knowledge of nuclear weapons and resistance from her publisher (Hannu-Pekka Björkman), who doesn't want to upset the locals with such depressing talk, insisting instead on running only upbeat but innocuous human interest stories. Niina is undeterred, however, throwing herself into a story that garners international attention, regardless of the challenges she faces. In doing so, she grows and matures, finding her footing as a newly empowered woman, as well as finding new love in a handsome, adoring and attentive military man (Pyry Kähkönen). Niina's transformation gives her purpose and helps her to prepare for the impending release of her incarcerated toxic husband (Tommi Eronen), who returns home promising he's changed, despite evidence to the contrary. Niina's new life thus begins, ironically, thanks to her immersion in a devastating subject - but one that ultimately imbues her with a healthier, more realistic outlook on the wider world and the nature of her existence. Writer-director Miia Tervo's fact-based third feature outing is another of those unexpected cinematic gems that effectively mixes genres in coming up with a delightful and enlightening film. Much of the first half presents a colorful portrait of the protagonist's hometown, family and neighbors, featuring ample humor that's decidedly quirky, deliciously deadpan and superbly understated, not unlike the folksy, unassuming laughs prevalent in movies like "Fargo" (1996). But, as Niina's story unfolds, it takes on more serious overtones as viewers witness the character develop into someone who leaves behind the crippling naivete and obsequiousness that have long been holding her back. Admittedly, the film begins to drag a bit in the last act, needlessly stretching out material that's easy to predict without having to belabor it. Nevertheless, "The Missile" is one of those pictures that audience members are likely to come away from feeling as though they've been warmly welcomed into a community of loving family and friends whom they've known for a long time but without the unduly burdensome trappings of schmaltz and sentimentality. And there's a lot to be said for that, even if it takes a little taste of Armageddon to get us there.
Zwei zu eins (2024)
When Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction -- And Funny At That
Stories based on the notion that "truth is stranger than fiction" often provide a great foundation for comedy, and writer-director Natja Brunckhorst's second feature is evidence of that. This fact-based tale set in 1990 during the transitionary days of German reunification follows the newly uncertain lives of a group of working class residents in the city of Halberstadt as they seek to cope with the emerging social, economic and political paradigm that has been thrust upon them. As their East German homeland is absorbed into its Western counterpart, the socialist nation begins evolving into a new capitalist enclave. But this process is fraught with serious fiscal consequences with hard-hitting impact on East Germany's citizens, many of whom now find themselves without work and a source of income, prospects that are likely to persist for at least a year, if not longer. And, unless they swap their soon-to-be-worthless East German currency for Deutsch Marks by a fast-approaching deadline, they'll be without savings and working capital, too. So, in the face of these pressing circumstances, it's truly ironic that a quartet of financially strapped locals should stumble into a huge stash of East German money that's been casually disposed of in an underground (and surprisingly easily accessible) bunker, left to decay - and available for the taking. They impulsively grab as much as they can carry, but they're nevertheless left with the question of what to do with it in the face of the impending exchange deadline. The answer lies in a creative money laundering scheme cleverly cooked up with a host of similarly situated community residents who seek to not only trade in the newly acquired cash without drawing undue attention, but also to expand upon the legitimately scrubbed reserves to build an even larger mutually held nest-egg. Doing so has its share of challenges, though, both economically and personally, yielding more than its share of surprises, conflicts and hearty belly laughs. While the film is a little slow to get started and has a few moments that either could have been eliminated or executed more deftly, "Two to One" otherwise delivers on all fronts. The picture's fine ensemble cast, crisp writing, catchy soundtrack and spot-on period piece production values mesh well, spinning an inspiring, touching and humorous underdog yarn about hard-pressed everyday folks rising up to address extraordinary circumstances. It's also a feel good, family-oriented tale told in an unlikely setting under unlikely conditions that are probably little known to those outside of Germany, but one that effectively proves once again that the truth really is often stranger than fiction.
Transamazonia (2024)
An Engaging Morality Play in the Rainforest
The power of faith can be quite incredible when we witness it at work. That's especially true when miracles occur involving seemingly hopeless cases, outcomes that often vanquish any remaining doubts among even the most implacable skeptics. And it's interesting to note that those who wholeheartedly embrace this notion and are then able to make use of it in highly practical ways are often themselves the beneficiaries of such divine grace, as the sole survivor of a plane crash in the Amazon rainforest discovers for herself in this engaging morality play. The young girl who miraculously escapes with her life eventually goes on to become a proficient, effective and renowned faith healer (Helena Zengel) who cures the sick of all manner of health conditions at the remote outpost of her charismatic missionary father (superbly portrayed by Jeremy Xido) in the depths of the Brazilian jungle. But can she have the same kind of impact in areas that go beyond our physical well-being? That question arises when the land of local indigenous residents is illegally impinged upon by avaricious, exploitative loggers, resulting in a contentious conflict into which father and daughter are unwittingly drawn. A complex set of circumstances thus emerges that leaves all concerned potentially compromised, especially when mixed motivations and ambiguous revelations surface. Director Pia Marais's latest feature thoughtfully explores these questions from a variety of angles, judiciously dispensing the diverse elements of this complicated scenario with even pacing and without ever becoming muddled, an accomplishment that simultaneously and solidly retains viewer interest. The film also shines a bright light on the spectacular grandeur of the Amazon ecosystem, as well as the unconscionable environmental atrocities being committed against it, through visuals that are both stunningly beautiful and truly troubling. Admittedly, there are a few story elements and narrative transitions that could have been handled a tad more skillfully, but, on balance, Marais has otherwise meticulously crafted a fine piece of filmmaking that covers a lot of ground without ever feeling as though the picture is trying to do too much. It gives us much to think about, both as spiritual beings and as stewards of the earth, as well as how these two lines of thought intertwine with one another, providing a holistic look at life and our world from both ethereal and practical standpoints. My expectations for "Transamazonia" were most definitely exceeded, and I'm sure many audience members will come away from this one feeling the same way.