3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for drug content, mild sensuality and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.7.17
Remakes rarely live up to their
predecessors.
This is one of the exceptions.
Director Zach Braff’s re-booted Going in Style charms from beginning to
end, thanks to scripter Theodore Melfi’s savvy update of the 1979 original.
That film seriously misled audiences with an advertising campaign that promised
droll hijinks from its veteran cast — George Burns, Art Carney and Lee Strasberg
— when, in fact, it was a serious downer that became progressively more
depressing.
Braff and Melfi learned from that
mistake. Their new Style makes ample
comedic use of its fresh trio of veteran scene-stealers — Michael Caine, Morgan
Freeman and Alan Arkin — while supplying some trenchant social commentary,
which was absent the first time around.
It’s also obvious, in the wake of
the Wells Fargo scandal and other recent examples of greedy, soulless financial
skullduggery, that banks — and bank officers — are likely to spend the next
several years competing alongside Nazis, as go-to movie villains. I can’t
imagine a more fitting punishment.
Best friends Joe (Caine), Willie
(Freeman) and Albert (Arkin) live across the street from each other in a fading
Brooklyn neighborhood. Willie and Albert share one home, their combined pension
and Social Security payments just enough to keep them in modest comfort. Joe
has taken in his daughter and beloved granddaughter, Brooklyn (Joey King); his
monthly pension check is barely enough to meet the mortgage.
Or it was, back when the checks
still arrived. They’ve been absent of late, thanks to “restructuring” by the
company that has absorbed Semtech Steel, where the three men spent their
working careers.
The first body blow comes with a
warning notice that the bank holding Joe’s mortgage is about to foreclose; the
killing punch follows quickly, when a (very brave) Semtech flack gathers
employees and retirees, and announces that the new corporate owners have moved
all operations overseas. And that all pensions will be dissolved in order to
help cover outstanding debt.
Adding insult to injury, this
heartless financial rape will be overseen by the very bank holding Joe’s
mortgage.
Joe makes a token effort to
protest the bank’s behavior, but his pleas are ignored by a smarmy,
condescending manager (Josh Pais, hilariously pompous and patronizing). Just as
Caine’s rising fury suggests that he might reach across the desk in order to
knock the guy’s teeth out, their “chat” is interrupted by a spectacularly noisy
trio of masked bank robbers; they conduct their business rapidly, successfully
making off with quite a haul.
Over the next few days, a crazy
idea percolates in Joe’s head, until he finally shares it with his buddies:
“I’m thinking of robbing a bank.”
Actually, not “a” bank, but the bank. The one that matters.
Willie, long bothered by the
distance that separates him from his own daughter and granddaughter — and the
budget limitations that prevent more frequent visits — doesn’t take much
persuading. The eternally cranky Albert, on the other hand, remains the
objecting voice of reason and sanity: no way, no how.
Until he, too, gets angry enough
to reconsider.
By this point, thanks to Melfi’s
carefully constructed script, our sympathy lies firmly with these guys. They’re
surrounded by a gaggle of carefully constructed supporting characters, from
closely knit family members (notably Joe’s granddaughter) to the smugly
sarcastic waitress (Siobhan Fallon Hogan, a stitch) at the café where all three
men often gather for coffee and pie.
Al is being pursued by Annie
(Ann-Margret), who works at their neighborhood grocery store, and isn’t about
to be deterred by his apparent lack of interest. The lodge where the guys
gather for companionship and an occasional (atrocious) meal is dominated by the
well-intentioned but scatterbrained antics of Milton (Christopher Lloyd, still
drawing laughs from his wide-eyed expressions of bewilderment).
The point is that Melfi has taken
care to give personalities, back-stories and bits of business even to the
smallest sidebar roles that normally get ignored by lesser writers. Goodness,
even the grocery store manager (Kenan Thompson) gets a couple of choice scenes.
More crucially, our three protagonists
have solid reasons for their foolish scheme: They’ve been screwed, and they’re
in dire financial distress. (In the first film, Burns and his buddies pulled
the caper solely because they were bored.) We don’t merely sympathize; we want them to succeed.
Caine makes ample use of his
signature Cockney charm; he has a unique gift for righteous indignation that
never quite stifles his character’s inherent refinement. We understand that Joe
might get annoyed enough to smack somebody in the chops, but he’d do it
politely, and likely apologize afterwards. And, as always, he’s quick with a
well-timed quip.
Freeman’s Willie is a quieter
study: an analyzer who listens and smiles. We can tell — from Freeman’s gaze —
that he’s contemplating actions and consequences, like a master chess player
seven moves ahead. Unlike his two friends, Willie isn’t one to vent fears or
frustrations; he carries such troubles stoically, although we sense the pain within.
Arkin has made a career of
playing lovably irritable curmudgeons, so Albert isn’t much of a stretch. But
the character’s cranky vinegar is essential, in order to blunt the (mostly)
sugar-sweetness that radiates from Caine and Freeman. Besides, this sour
disposition gives Albert a transformational starting point, as Annie
progressively ups her game.
Ann-Margret is feisty,
effervescent and quite sexy as that lady in question; it’s always refreshing to
experience a storyline that allows senior citizens to demonstrate that they’ve
the same emotions, appetites and carnal drives as members of younger
generations.
The incredibly busy King — not
yet 20, and already boasting more than 50 film and TV credits — makes Brooklyn
warm, affectionate and just snarky enough to remain a credibly real teenager.
Her dynamic with Caine, as Joe walks her to and from school each day, is quite
touching.
John Ortiz has a pivotal
supporting role as Jesus, a shady character who runs a pet store as a cover for
undisclosed bad behavior, and who agrees to help these novice bank robbers
avoid the obvious pitfalls of their mad endeavor. Ortiz also gets in some great
one-liners, his straight face making their delivery even funnier.
Matt Dillon is intriguing, as FBI
Agent Hamer. At first blush he’s just another condescending jerk who seems
destined for a brief walk-on appearance ... but he keeps reappearing, his role
expanding as the narrative progresses. Peter Serafinowicz is equally memorable
as Joe’s ex-son-in-law, and Brooklyn’s father: another role that we initially
assume will be fleeting, but expands in Melfi’s clever hands.
Braff, still well remembered from
his long run on TV’s Scrubs, has
grown considerably since his big-screen directorial debut on 2004’s Garden State. His work here is
methodical and assured, and he deserves equal credit for drawing distinct
characters from every member of this engaging ensemble cast. Braff also has an
unerring instinct for comic timing, and his guiding hand ensures that every
tart line of dialog gets maximum exposure.
This
new Going in Style probably won’t
gain much traction with action-crazy post-millennials — their loss — but it’ll
be a guaranteed hit with savvier (older?) viewers who appreciate the skill with
which this talented ensemble cast has been matched with such a well-crafted
script.
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