Wonka

Director: Paul King
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Calah Lane, Keegan-Michael Key, Paterson Joseph, Matt Lucas, Matthew Baynton, Sally Hawkins, Rowan Atkinson, Jim Carter, Natasha Rothwell, Olivia Colman, Hugh Grant, Rich Fulcher, Rakhee Thakrar, Tom Davis
Running Time: 116 min.
Rating: PG

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

As the latest cinematic take on Roald Dahl's legendary children's book, Wonka surprisingly represents a best case scenario for another go-around with the material. Now far more associated with Gene Wilder's performance in 1971's Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory than the novel itself, the actor's iconic turn would always be impossible to top. Johnny Depp took a stab at it, attempting something completely different in Tim Burton's 2005 reimagining, but still found himself in the shadow of an instantly recognizable, universally beloved work that's already ingrained into pop culture. 

The unexpected selection of Timothée Chalamet to play this role did little to quell fears of a bloated, miscast cash grab, causing even more groans and skepticism than you'd anticipate ahead of Paul King's musical fantasy prequel. But the involvement of Paddington's imaginative director at least signaled the chance this could amount to more. And as it turns out, King and co-writer Simon Farnaby deliver, concocting an origin story that does justice to its predecessor's spirit, while still straying from the source in inspired ways.

Upon arriving in Europe, eccentric inventor and magician Willy Wonka (Chalamet) dreams of honoring his late mother (Sally Hawkins) by opening a chocolate shop at The Galéries Gourmet, home to the world's best confectioneries. But after quickly burning through his savings, a homeless Wonka is persuaded by oafish henchman Bleacher (Tom Davis) to stay at Mrs. Scrubitt's (Olivia Colman) boarding house, unwittingly signing a contract full of expensive hidden fees. Trapped in her basement laundry working off his debt, he meets five other "employees," including young orphan Noodle (Calah Lane) with whom he shares his chocolate making secrets. 

Planning his escape, Wonka must contend with rival shop owners Slugworth (Paterson Joseph), Prodnose (Matt Lucas) and Fickelgruber (Matthew Baynton) who bribe the corrupt, chocolate addicted Police Chief (Keegan-Michael Key) into running him out of town. As Wonka and Noodle attempt to expose this conspiracy, he also faces off with a determined Oompa Loompa named Lofty (Hugh Grant) who's been stealing his sweets to settle a past score. With Wonka's chances of achieving his lifelong dream slipping away, he'll need to get creative, enlisting the help of some new friends.

This opens with a show stopping musical number that establishes Wonka's situation in only a few minutes, successfully grabbing those who may know nothing of the character at all. But it doesn't rely on previous films or even the book, instead using both as a jumping off point to explore what the early incarnation of this wacky inventor could have been. This helps set the tone, with King striking a strong balance between story and song, knowing exactly how to present these sequences so they don't feel forced or shoehorned in. 

Infusing young Wonka with a wry, off-putting sense of humor, Chalamet gives us a sense of how unlucky beginnings inform the aspiring entrepreneur's instincts. Determined, but not completely sure of himself, he's in need of some aid and motivation while stumbling into enemy territory, sabotaged at every turn by the hilariously crooked chocolate cartel. 

In a story driven as much by over-the-top villains as its protagonist's heroics, Olivia Colman hams it up as the nefarious Mrs. Scrubitt, whose long suffering laundry workers are at least afforded the luxury of a catchy theme song. As her nasty hotel owner gives off vibes of Annie's Miss Hannigan, Paterson Joseph's conniving ringleader Slugworth makes for the most memorable of the three chocolatiers, with Keegan-Michael Key also stealing scenes as the bumbling, overeating lawman. 

Much of what works can be attributed to the pairing of Chalamet with Calah Lane as the orphan Noodle. Lane's just a total natural in the role and the writers are clever enough to give the character a purpose beyond merely serving as Wonka's junior sidekick. You get the impression he needs her more, with their joint efforts culminating in an elaborate, cleverly choreographed last act heist that's heartfelt and funny. It also feels right on brand, as does the casting of Hugh Grant as an Oompa Loompa, which isn't something anyone knew they needed until seeing it. He definitely doesn't disappoint, playing little orange Lofty as condescendingly as you'd hope.

It's really hard to nail a musical, much less one with an established lineage, but this has a distinctive visual flair and solid pacing that lends well to the format, harkening back to the genre's glory days. Better still, Nathan Crowley's production design is top notch and the plot makes sense, making it easy to care for the humorous heroes and dastardly scoundrels populating King's fantastical world.  

While Wonka lacks the darker, creepier undertones of the previous two films, it adds just the right dose of mischievous cynicism, abiding by the franchise's unwritten rule that things should be a little weird, keeping with the story's spirit. But the biggest shock might be Chalamet, who's delightful in a part most wouldn't think he'd have any business in, emanating just the right mix of innocence and lunacy. Knowing it's a fool's errand attempting to channel Wilder, he instead lays a believable foundation for what we know comes next, bolstering an already enjoyable companion piece to the classic film.                   

Spencer

Director: Pablo Larraín
Starring: Kristen Stewart, Timothy Spall, Jack Farthing, Sean Harris, Sally Hawkins, Jack Nielen, Freddie Spry, Stella Gonet, Richard Sammel, Elizabeth Berrington, Amy Manson, Emma Darwall-Smith
Running Time: 117 min.
Rating: R 

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

Spencer isn't the kind of biopic you can warmly embrace, fittingly keeping itself at an arm's length. In fact, it isn't even really a biopic at all, with director Pablo Larraín hardly interested in what did or didn't happen during the dissolution of Diana's marriage to Prince Charles, key events in her life, or reconstructing a timeline. It's a psychological horror film, plain and simple. And one that gets so far into the head of its subject that some viewers are bound to be turned off, criticizing it for being an artsy, depressing slog. While they wouldn't be entirely wrong on those counts, what's more questionable is whether it's fair to consider those flaws, especially considering how rare it is that a historical figure gets such a fearless, no holds barred treatment. Say what you will, but Larraín's approach is uncompromising, not budging an inch as far as what mainstream viewers would want or expect out of a movie about Princess Diana.

Almost completely inaccessible and wacky beyond belief, Larraín's film honorably refuses to meet us even halfway, mirroring the defiance of its subject herself. Full of eccentricities, narrative detours, dream sequences and melodramatic excursions, it falls so squarely in the wheelhouse of Kristen Stewart's indie work from the past decade you'll be wondering how Diana transformed into the actress rather than the other way around. And yet it still somehow fits, visually leaning into areas of her psyche that no news report or comprehensive novel on her life could possibly replicate. All of it anchored by a tremendous performance from Stewart that really digs deep, ranking in the upper echelon of nominated biographical portrayals, not to mention her biggest risk in a career full of them.

It's December 1991 and the Royal Family is spending Christmas at the Queen's Sandringham estate in Norfolk, right next to Diana's (Stewart) long-abandoned childhood home, Park House. With the Princess of Wales' already strained marriage to Prince Charles (Jack Farthing) on its last legs due to his  affair with Camilla Parker Bowles (Emma Darwall-Smith), she has second thoughts about attending. Lost, frustrated and on the verge of emotional collapse, Diana encounters Royal Head Chef Darren McGrady (Sean Harris), who convinces her to go, only to find she's ignored by the entire family immediately upon arrival. 

With the exception of young sons William and Harry (Jack Nielen and Freddie Spry), Diana receives a chilly reception, finding comfort in her friendship with Royal dresser Maggie (Sally Hawkins), who offers invaluable advice and guidance. Despite being under constant surveillance by the family's eyes and ears, Major Gregory (Timothy Spall), Diana refuses to conform, yearning for a normal life free of the burden and responsibility this position entails. She's become a prisoner in her own mind, dreaming of escaping to a simpler, happier time.

A key scene that encapsulates everything Diana's going through is her only seen conversation with Charles, which only further confirms that they're orbiting different planets, with no hope for reconciliation or compromise. At the crux of the argument is his belief that she needs to just give in for appearance sake and maintain a certain public facade like everyone else. Of course, none of this applies to him since his position within the family has already long been secured. She's just not built for this, and much of the film's running time is spent showing us in painstaking, sometimes torturous detail, exactly how. 

In a constant state of depression and misery, a fragile Diana's wings have been clipped, making you wonder how the marriage even lasted this long, regardless of Charles' affair. She regurgitates dinner, gets repulsed by the clothing selection, raids the dessert fridge after hours and even imagines mutilating herself with wirecutters. But her most telling form of rebellion comes in the middle of the night with an escape to her abandoned childhood home. All of these happenings are juxtaposed against the stately, regal backdrop of Guy Hendrix Dyas' production design and Jacqueline Durran's costumes, the latter of which serves the dual function of replicating Diana's iconic style, even as she's emotionally suffocated by it. And sharply contrasting with the pageantry surrounding her, Jonny Greenwood's jazzy, propulsive score races with a tense uneasiness that matches Diana's anxiousness.

If the worry going in was Stewart's ability to look or feel comfortable in this woman's skin, that's precisely the point since there's hardly a moment where Diana does, as she's constantly isolated and overwhelmed by her surroundings. The actress also nails her speech, mannerisms and strikingly resembles the Princess of Wales enough that that the real person pushes her way to the surface as Stewart becomes more unrecognizable, completely inhabiting the role. And while doing it, she finds a new way in, conveying a sadder, but strangely softer side to her that actually hasn't been beaten into the ground by previous cinematic and TV treatments. 

Steven Knight's script flies off the rails in inspired, unexpected ways, like when Diana's overcome with memories and hallucinations while dancing through the halls of her old home, briefly reconnecting with a life that never seemed further out of reach. This and Maggie's support push her forward, if only for William and Harry's sake. Neither receive much screen time, but hardly need it, as current events lend their scenes even more poignancy than they already would knowing Diana's eventual fate. Through them, she momentarily finds something that resembles joy and an actual identity outside the family's shackles. Viewed in this light, the film's title seems even more relevant, as a reclamation of her own life and name, if only briefly.       

In exploring how a down-to-earth, free spirited personality could survive when everything she is slowly gets stripped away, Spencer establishes itself as an ambitious piece of speculative historical fiction. It also asks a lot from its audience, who might sometimes feel just as equally trapped. But the experience stays with you largely due to methods used to convey that Diana's situation was far worse than reported or imagined. This entire arrangement was never going to work for either side, but this is the most brutally honest film about it, holding little back in telling a familiar story through fresh eyes.  

Blue Jasmine

Director: Woody Allen
Starring: Cate Blanchett, Alec Baldwin, Sally Hawkins, Bobby Cannavale, Louis C.K., Andrew Dice Clay, Peter Sarsgaard, Michael Stuhlbarg, Tammy Blanchard, Max Casella
Running Time: 98 min.
Rating:  PG-13

★★★ (out of ★★★★) 

It's somewhat ironic that Woody Allen's most tolerable film in years centers around an intolerable character. At least to the other characters. But to us she's compelling and even at points captivating. Observing the actions of the title character in Blue Jasmine is comparable to watching a train wreck. That's a change of pace since the most toxic element in any Woody Allen film is usually him, whether he's in front of the camera or not. He hasn't made what could be considered a truly great film in decades despite turning out one feature a year like clockwork. Sometimes it feels like he's making them just to make them and keep working even if he doesn't have anything important to say. More frustratingly, it's not like any of these films are awful, as that might be some indication he's really going for it. Instead, most have been mediocre or even occasionally forgettable.

Aside from a powerhouse lead performance of alarming proportions, it's tough to say Blue Jasmine necessarily breaks the Woody mold but it's definitely stronger and more interesting than Whatever Works, To Rome With Love and the overpraised Midnight in Paris. Coming from someone who far prefers him tackling drama, there's more than enough drama to spare here, while still offering a spattering of laughs, most of which are dark and uncomfortable. He's good at this stuff and should do character studies more often, even if this can't exactly be considered an "original screenplay" in any way, shape or form. There are direct sequels and remakes that have less in common with their source than this script does with Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire. Luckily, it was probably due for an update anyway, so at least it's given a good one.      

Rich socialite Jasmine French (Cate Blanchett) has recently fallen on hard times, as her former husband, New York financier Hal Francis (Alec Baldwin) was sent to prison for fraud, forcing her to move to San Francisco to stay with her sister, Ginger (Sally Hawkins). Through flashbacks, we're given important glimpses of Jasmine's marriage to Hal and her relationship with Ginger and then husband Augie (Andrew Dice Clay), both of whom she looked down on at the time as lower class degenerates. Year later, Jasmine's attitude remains mostly the same even as Ginger has since moved on with a mechanic named Chili (Bobby Cannavale). Battling her own history of mental illness and emotional instability, Jasmine wastes little time popping pills, drinking heavily, mocking her sister's lifestyle choices and insulting her friends. But the true horror comes when she actually has to go out and get a real job. It isn't until she meets and falls for wealthy, widowed diplomat Dwight (Peter Sarsgaard) that she's given a fresh chance at happiness.

Complex in both conception and execution, the title character is the reason it all works. Part protagonist, part antagonist, Jasmine could have easily been written or performed as a cliche of upper class entitlement, or worse yet, a crazed sociopath. And while there will undoubtedly still be those who think she qualifies as both, Blanchett brings a lot more to it than that, despite it being the type of performance that couldn't be classified as subtle. Being sickened by Jasmine's actions is a given, but the actress forces us into believing she might actually have potential as a human being if she weren't so self-absorbed and superficial. That both she and Ginger were adopted is an important detail since they're so different no one would possibly believe they're sisters otherwise, which is an underlying (if not overlying) source of tension in their relationship. It's clear from their interactions Jasmine was always the favorite growing up and it's even more plainly obvious Ginger is only her sister when she needs something. And yet, frustratingly, Jasmine's observations that her sister is wasting her life and potential are spot on. She pretty much is.

Hawkins portrays an often clueless and naive woman who's settling in every aspect of her life, especially when it comes to romance. It's rare having a supporting character (especially a familiar type like the put upon sister) that's as well developed as the lead and Hawkins deserves much of that credit. Torn between the hot-tempered Chili and a guy named Al (Louis C.K.) who she meets at a party and carries on an affair, both alternately straddle the line between caring, sensitive guys and total losers. The truth probably resides somewhere in between, but the exuberant Cannavale is one of the best things in this and the thrill of seeing Louis C.K. in a Woody Allen movie, even in such a small dose, doesn't disappoint. It also really gets the mind racing about how great it would be if Louie were given the same opportunity as Larry David to carry his own Allen vehicle.

There have been raves for Andrew Dice Clay's performance and while he is surprisingly solid in a small, but pivotal role, I can't help but think much of that praise stems from the shock of not only seeing the controversial comic in a quality film, but managing to hold his own. Still, it's a casting masterstroke as Augie's very existence in the story serves as set-up for a huge, climactic scene in the third act where Jasmine's past indiscretions catch up with her. Baldwin's sleazy as ever as her lying, philandering, Madoff-like ex-husband, but it's Blanchett doing most of the work, devouring scenes left and right.

As heinous as Jasmine seems, the actress does seem to work up a considerable amount of empathy for her given her situation isn't one that naturally elicits much (if any) sympathy at all. By society's standards, she was on top of the world and used to living a certain lifestyle so it only makes sense she would break when it all comes crashing down. Her foray into the working world as a receptionist for an overexcited dentist (played by Michael Stuhlbarg) reveals almost as much about the character as it does Allen himself, who's been justifiably accused of being out of touch with the rest of society (an office without computers?) It's also interesting how the San Francisco setting feels and looks no different than the director's detours overseas to Paris or Rome. This shares the basic feel of every other recent Woody movie, but it's darker in tone and centered around a performance leagues ahead of what we're used to in his usual outings.

When we eventually learn the exact circumstances of her former husband's downfall, there's even more to talk about and Blanchett's work somehow seems even more intricate in retrospect. The worst thing that could happen to her is being teased with a shot at reclaiming the wealth and privilege she originally relished and still yearns for. For all her deception and shame to try to cover up her previous life, we still see how Sarsgaard's wealthy diplomat would fall for her class, beauty and sophistication, even as she unintentionally works as hard as possible to sabotage herself. She's the kind of person whose compliments even seem like backhanded insults.

It's difficult not to respect Allen for refusing to compromise by letting the character arrive at some sudden self-realization that would feel false for someone as emotionally unstable as she. Everything is particularly twisted and unpleasant, which comes as a relief from a director not exactly known for his risk taking in recent years. While there's nothing particularly surprising about Blue Jasmine aside from that and Blanchett's barn burning turn, it marks the first time in a while there are actually issues to contemplate and discuss coming out of a Woody Allen picture.