The Witches: Casts a weak spell

The Witches (2020) • View trailer

Three stars. Rated PG, for scary images and fantasy frights

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.30.20

HBO Max is offering an unusual take on Roald Dahl’s The Witches.

 

Transplanting a Dahl tale from his native England to Alabama, is akin to suddenly insisting that James Bond hails from California. The disconnect is jarring, and the absence of Dahl’s distinctly British tone is keenly felt.

 

While her mouse-ified grandson and two similarly majicked mice companions watch
hopefully, Grandma (Octavia Spencer) carefully blends the ingredients for a
counter-spell designed to return them to human form.

That said, if an international order of witches wishes to eradicate all the world’s children, it certainly makes sense that such enchanters would travel. Ergo, why not the rural Alabama town of Demopolis? Indeed, location isn’t an issue in director Robert Zemeckis’ handling of Dahl’s creepy-crawly fantasy; the major problem is the script’s reliance on sight gags and special effects, over plot logic, continuity and plain ol’ common sense.

 

I’m frankly surprised. The writing chores are handled by Zemeckis, Guillermo del Toro — who certainly understands well-plotted fantasy structure — and Kenya Barris. The latter, best known for television work such as America’s Top Model and Black-ish, may be the reason this film too frequently sinks into sitcom-style slapstick, rather than attempting to emulate Dahl’s mordant British wit.

 

The story is told via flashback, and introduced during what appears to be a classroom slide show by an off-camera presenter (Chris Rock’s always distinctive voice and cadence). We then slide back to 1967 …

 

… where our young protagonist (Jahzir Bruno) has come to live with his Grandma (Octavia Spencer), following the tragic death of his parents. When the boy — never given a name — reports an unsettling encounter with an oddly dressed woman, Grandma springs into action, and takes them on a “vacation” to the seaside Grand Orleans Imperial Island Hotel.

 

Turns out Grandma has dealt with witches before, and cautions her grandson about what to watch for. Witches always wear gloves, even when it’s hot outside; their nostrils are larger than most; they wear wigs to hide their bald heads; they don’t have any toes; and — the ookiest detail — their elongated mouths can stretch to their ears.

 

Alas, Grandma and her young companion have abandoned the frying pan, only to wind up in the fire. The hotel also is hosting a gathering of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children … whose exclusively female members actually are all witches, led by the Grand High Witch (Anne Hathaway).

Serious Men: A savage social satire

Serious Men (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Not rated, with profanity and sexual candor

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.13.20 

It’s bad enough that India’s emboldened Hindu extremists have been attacking and persecuting their fellow Muslims, Christians and Sikhs; matters are worsened by the inflexible caste system that adds an additional layer of oppressive discrimination.

 

In a rare moment of relaxation, young Adi (Aakshath Das) manages to coax a
near-smile from his father, Ayyan (Nawazuddin Siddiqui).

Director Sudhir Mishra takes a ruthless jab at the latter with Serious Men — available via Netflix — which is as brutal a satire as I’ve seen in awhile. The assault is relentless; the script — by Abhijeet Khuman, Bhavesh Mandalia, Niren Bhatt and Nikhil Nair — is a sardonic spin on journalist Manu Joseph’s 2010 novel of the same title (although an initial text crawl suggests that the adaptation is quite loose).

 

Almost nobody emerges unscathed in this indictment of caste, greed, gullibility, opportunism and — to borrow a British phrase — arrogant upper-class twits.

 

Ayyan Mani (the always excellent Nawazuddin Siddiqui) works as a personal assistant to Dr. Arvind Acharya (M. Nassar), a senior astronomer at the ironically named National Institute of Fundamental Research. Ayyan, a Dalit (lower-caste), is treated with undisguised contempt by his boss, a Brahmin (the highest caste) who routinely berates his assistant’s “primitive mind.”

 

Such behavior is institutional, and Ayyan is helpless to surmount the barrier that inherently grants Dr. Acharya a level of respect that (we soon realize) he hardly deserves, while Dalits are shoved into matchbox-size shacks in the city slums. This injustice is even more infuriating because Ayyan is intelligent enough to perceive that his boss is a scoundrel, who has just soaked the government into funding his ludicrous project to prove that Earth is being invaded by alien germs.

 

At first, Ayyan is philosophical about this situation; he and his gentle-natured wife, Oja (Indira Tiwari), enjoy “gaming” the system by (for example) pretending to be higher-caste tourists at a fancy hotel. Ayyan is a second-generation Dalit, and — as he views things — one must be at least fourth-generation, in order to shed the Dalit designation and become an elite who can get away with “doing nothing at all.”

 

When they have a son, and the boy grows old enough to enter the school system, Ayyan hatches a scheme of devious revenge. The boy, Adi (Aakshath Das), is a meek, owl-eyed cherub who — thanks to his eyeglasses and hearing aid — ordinarily would be the natural target of classroom bullies. But Adi is ferociously smart, and — being a child — can catch the attention of the elites who reflexively ignore his father.

 

Ayyan knows this, and exploits the situation. Ruthlessly.

 

Which means that he’s also robbing Adi of his childhood innocence.

The Trial of the Chicago Seven: Unbelievable, but true

The Trial of the Chicago Seven (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated R, for profanity, violence and drug use

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.23.20 

Well, this one couldn’t be more timely.

 

Defense attorney William Kuntsler (Mark Rylance, center) and co-counsel Leonard
Weinglass (center left) do their best to protect the defendants — from left, Bobby Seale
(Yahya Abdul-Mateen II), Tom Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) and Rennie Davis
(Alex Sharp) — from the blatantly biased behavior of their courtroom judge.

Writer/director Aaron Sorkin’s Netflix original, a depiction of events during the notorious “Chicago Seven” trial — which lasted five months after beginning Sept. 24, 1969, following the August 1968 riots outside Chicago’s Democratic National Convention — is by turns mesmerizing, astonishing, scandalous and horrifying.

 

While Sorkin makes no claim to rigid, documentary-style authenticity, it’s important to understand that pretty much everything depicted here — even the most outrageous behavior — did indeed take place. The timeline has been manipulated a bit, and Sorkin clearly punches up some of the behind-the-scenes dialogue for dramatic impact.

 

But be advised: Every time you’re inclined to think, Oh, that couldn’t possibly have happened … you’ll be wrong.

 

The often crackling verbal exchanges are volleyed by a powerhouse ensemble cast dominated by four actors: Eddie Redmayne, as Students for a Democratic Society (SDS) member Tom Hayden; Sacha Baron Cohen, as Youth International Party (Yippie) co-founder Abbie Hoffman; Yahya Abdul-Mateen II, as Black Panther Party co-founder Bobby Seale; and Mark Rylance, as defense attorney and civil rights activist William Kunstler.

 

The latter represented the Seven during their kangaroo-court trial before the incompetent, blatantly racist and deplorably biased Judge Julius Hoffman (a chilling Frank Langella).

 

Joseph Gordon-Levitt is just as compelling — albeit in a more calmly determined manner — as lead prosecutor Richard Schultz, hand-picked for this assignment by newly elected President Richard Nixon’s attorney general, John Mitchell (John Doman, smugly condescending).

 

Jeremy Strong supplies mild comic relief as Yippie co-founder Jerry Rubin, who seems stoned during the lengthy proceeding. The remaining Seven are SDS member Rennie Davis (Alex Sharp); and National Mobilization Committee to End the War in Vietnam (The MOBE) members David Dellinger (John Carroll Lynch), John Froines (Danny Flaherty) and Lee Weiner (Noah Robbins).

 

A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting: Family-friendly fantasy

A Babysitter's Guide to Monster Hunting (2020) • View trailer

Three stars. Not rated, and suitable for all ages

By Derrick Bang 

Noting Ivan Reitman’s name among the producers of this delightful little fantasy explains much, as there’s a strong Ghostbusters vibe here.

 

Actually, let’s call this Netflix original “Buffy Meets the Ghostbusters.” Lite.

 

As they penetrate ever farther into the Grand Guignol's lair, Kelly (Tamara Smart, left)
and Liz (Oona Laurence) find it increasingly difficult to protect young Jacob (Ian Ho)
from this evil manipulator of dreams.

Director Rachel Talalay has been busy with television work, helming installments of everything ranging from Riverdale and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, to Doctor Who and The Flash. Like Reitman, she has a solid handle on snarky, light-hearted fantasy, and she has just the right touch for this dip into Joe Ballarini’s children’s book trilogy.

 

Ballarini, also a director and screenwriter, handled the script himself. The result is a family-friendly romp with “scares” that are more fun than frightening.

 

Kelly Ferguson (Tamara Smart) is something of a nerdish introvert. On this particular evening, she wants to attend a raucous party in order to spend quality time near her secret crush. Alas, her mother lines her up with a babysitting assignment for the young son of Ms. Zellman (Tamsen McDonough, waspishly condescending), a high-society mover and shaker.

 

Jacob Zellman (Ian Ho) has trouble falling asleep. The poor kid is convinced that some of the toys in his room come to life at night, and he’s therefore reluctant to close his eyes, lest something dire occur.

 

That proves an understatement. Bad enough that Jacob gets stuffed into a satchel by a hideous little creature, and then dragged into a hole in the bedroom floor that quickly seals behind them. Kelly is further gobsmacked by the sudden appearance of the crisply resourceful Liz LeRue (Oona Laurence), who seems remarkably unruffled by these events.

 

Turns out Liz heads the local chapter of an international secret society of gifted babysitters who protect “special” children from monsters. This triggers a memory from Kelly’s own childhood, when — as a 4-year-old with a “gift of dreams” so vivid, that she could conjure and create real things from what she envisioned — she was rescued by a similarly adept babysitter.

 

Jacob has that same gift, which the vile Grand Guignol (Tom Felton) wishes to exploit, in order to unleash an army of nasty dream-critters on an unsuspecting world. He’s assisted by a trio of clumsy, squabbling, fire hydrant-size “Toadies” dubbed Snaggle, Roscoe and Jimmy, one of whom snatched the boy. (Imagine the Ghostbusters’ equally cranky Slimer, crossed with several Minions.)

 

H Is for Happiness: D Is for delightful

H Is for Happiness (2019) • View trailer

Four stars. Not rated, and suitable for all ages

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.23.20

We all need some measure of control in our lives. Without it, that way madness lies.

 

Poor Candice Phee (Daisy Axon) has almost none. Her mother, Claire (Emma Booth), has retreated into chronic depression since the crib death of Candice’s baby sister. Her father, Jim (Richard Roxburgh), can do nothing about this; he’s also angrily estranged from his incredibly wealthy brother — known by Candice as “Rich Uncle Brian” (Joel Jackson) — believing he got screwed during a collaborative business venture.

 

Candice (Daisy Axon) enthusiastically helps new best friend Douglas (Wesley Patten)
search for the perfect tree, in which to test his dimension-hopping theories ... which
involve jumping from a high branch. (The horse just, well, appears at unexpected
moments.)

Candice and her parents eat their meals separately. Mother rarely leaves her bedroom; Father rarely stops working in his downstairs office, cut off from the world by headphones.

 

As a result, despite being not quite 13, Candice has learned to fend for herself. She’s a bright, inquisitive and — as far as her classmates are concerned — insufferably cheerful adolescent, always first to raise her hand when teacher Miss Bamford (Miriam Margolyes) poses a question.

 

Noting the rows of carefully sorted gel pens forever arranged on Candice’s desk — among her other affectations — “mean girl” Jen (Alessandra Tognini) waspishly refers to her as “Essen,” short for “SN,” as in “special needs.” Indeed, it’s easy to assume that Candice is a spectrum child, or even autistic.

 

But no: The carefully arranged gel pens, her devotion to vocabulary — she reads the dictionary — are simply her means of maintaining somesemblance of order in her life.

 

Director John Sheedy’s H Is for Happiness — available via Amazon Prime and other streaming services — is scripted by Lisa Hoppe, and adapted from Barry Jonsberg’s award-winning 2013 young adult novel, My Life As an Alphabet (a far superior title, by the way). It’s a poignant, carefully nuanced and at times droll slice of Australian whimsy. 

 

Although the emotional content is deeply felt and persuasively depicted — laughter and heartbreak existing side-by-side — Sheedy’s stylized approach owes more than a little to eclectic directors such as Wes Anderson, Baz Luhrmann and Bill Forsythe.

 

Particularly the latter: Like Forsythe, Sheedy’s tableaus frequently include random individuals doing interesting — or unusual — things in the background, or at the fringes of a random shot. Cinematographer Bonnie Elliott’s efforts are deliberately stylized, her depiction of this colorful coastal town of Albany somewhat heightened, in the manner of 2001’s Amelie.

 

A touch of magic realism also infiltrates this narrative, whether in the antics — and wisdom — of the cross-dressing costume shop proprietor (George Shevtsov); or Miss Bamford’s distractingly active lazy right eye; or in the mysterious miniature white horse that inhabits the nearby woods.

 

The woods themselves have plenty of personality; Elliott often aims her camera directly overhead, into the thick top-growth, as the trees mumble, grumble and groan in the breeze. It’s hard not to think of the Ents, in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.

 

The War with Grandpa: Scorched-earth tactics

The War with Grandpa (2020) • View trailer

2.5 stars. Rated PG, for mild rude humor

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.9.20

Robert Kimmel Smith’s 1984 young reader’s novel is a parable about the perils of escalation, when a grieving widower moves in with his daughter’s family, forcing 10-year-old Peter to surrender his beloved bedroom and move into the attic.

 

Believing they've declared a truce during his young granddaughter's Christmas-themed
birthday party, Ed (Robert De Niro, right) offers a cookie to his grandson Peter
(Oakes Fegley).

The boy wants his room back.

 

The subsequent “declaration of war” involves gentle, low-level pranks, such as wrongly set alarm clocks and hidden slippers. Grandpa, initially distressed, reluctantly responds in kind; Peter’s toothbrush and schoolbooks go missing. Realizing that the situation threatens to escalate uncomfortably, Grandpa has a heart-to-heart with Peter, using Pearl Harbor to demonstrate that, ultimately, both sides lose in a war.

 

Although not entirely convinced, Peter orchestrates one more prank before realizing that he has, indeed, gone too far. He and Grandpa reconcile, put their heads together, and devise a win-win solution that pleases the entire family.

 

You won’t be surprised to learn that Hollywood “goes too far” with this big-screen adaptation, opening today at operational movie theaters. Director Tim Hill frequently yields to exaggerated slapstick, while scripters Tom J. Astle and Matt Ember have turned many of Smith’s mild-mannered characters into two-dimensional burlesques.

 

The result is an overly broad comedy that only barely retains the essential moral of Smith’s book.

 

Yes, Hill’s film is laugh-out-loud funny at times; more often than not, though, we’re dealing with the sort of destructive overkill that turned so many 1970s Disney comedies into eye-rolling disasters.

 

Ed (Robert De Niro) leaves his home reluctantly, not wanting to surrender his independence. The reference to his departed wife is retained via a brief, wistful glance at a photograph, and thereafter ceases to be a plot point. Ed joins the household containing his daughter Sally (Uma Thurman), her husband Arthur (Rob Riggle), and their three children: teenage daughter Mia (Laura Marano), Peter (Oakes Fegley) and 4-year-old Jennifer (Poppy Gagnon).

 

Ed is given Peter’s room; the latter is bumped upstairs, into the attic. (Mind you, every kid I knew — myself included — would have killed to have an attic room. But to each his own, I guess.) The situation might have remained stable, except that Peter is goaded into action against the “room robber” by his sixth-grade posse: Emma (T.J. McGibbon), Billy (Juliocesar Chavez) and Steve (Isaac Kragten).

 

Summerland: A deeply emotional sojourn

Summerland (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.16.20

I marvel at the variety and emotional sensitivity of World War II-based dramas that continue to arrive from across the pond.

 

As Alice (Gemma Arterton) grows more tolerant of Frank's (Lucas Bond) presence,
she becomes willing to share her interest in the fascinating atmospheric phenomenon
known as Fata Morgana mirages.

Clearly, several generations of our British cousins continue to be profoundly impacted by the Blitz, which terrified the London populace for eight harrowing months, from September 1940 through May 1941. (And a noisy subset of Americans complain that the sensible request to wear a mask is too restrictive? Please.)

 

Writer/director Jessica Swale’s engaging and clever scripted Summerland — available via Amazon Prime and other streaming platforms — focuses on this era through the lens of yet another fresh perspective. Her film is fueled by a richly nuanced performance from star Gemma Arterton, who — in turn — is surrounded by a talented ensemble cast that brings this drama to vibrant life.

 

The setting is a tiny community nestled along the seaside cliffs of Southern England’s Kent district; the story’s catalyst is “Operation Pied Piper,” the mass evacuations designed to keep children safe in outlying rural locations during the Blitz, while their parents remained behind in cities across Britain.

 

Alice Lamb (Arterton) is a reclusive researcher/writer who lives in a quaint home overlooking the ocean. She’s constantly tormented by local children: in part because they always get such a furious rise out of her; and also because much of the community suspects she might be a “Nazi spy.” (Not really. But tongues do wag…)

 

Her isolation is rudely interrupted when she’s assigned a young boy — Lucas Bond, as Frank — who arrives in the newest wave of displaced children. Alice is furious, wanting no part of such an intrusion; the townsfolk — led by genial school headmaster Mr. Sullivan (the quietly excellent Tom Courtenay) — are equally firm. She must do her part.

 

Fine, she replies waspishly, but only for one week: until you can find him another home.

 

We cringe during these early scenes, because Alice doesn’t even try to conceal her disgust over the situation in general, and poor Frank in particular; she couldn’t care less if his feelings get bruised. But — intriguingly — he’s a remarkably resilient boy, and he accepts her hostility with equanimity (although Bond ensures that we see the distress in his gaze, when Alice isn’t looking).

 

Enola Holmes: The game's afoot!

Enola Holmes (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated PG-13, and ludicrously, for occasional peril

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.2.20

I love when it’s obvious, mere minutes into a film, that we’re in for a lot of fun.

 

When her mother vanishes under mysterious circumstances, Enola Holmes (Millie Bobby
Brown) is forced to request help from her older brothers, Sherlock (Henry Cavill, left)
and Mycroft (Sam Claflin) ... who prove to have unacceptable plans for her future.

Enola Holmes — debuting on Netflix — is an absolutely delightful adaptation of The Case of the Missing Marquess, the first book in Nancy Springer’s young adult series about the hitherto unrevealed teenage younger sister of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. The setting is London, the year 1884: just as Sherlock is in the process of establishing his credentials, following the successful resolution of “A Study in Scarlet” and “The Adventure of the Speckled Band.”

 

The literary Enola is plucky, intelligent and resourceful; as depicted here by Millie Bobby Brown — who shot to fame via TV’s Stranger Things — she’s also mischievous, endearing and quite captivating. Director Harry Bradbeer and scripter Jack Thorne don’t merely break the fourth wall; they shatter it completely, with Enola frequently pausing to address us viewers directly, or to shoot us a knowing glance.

 

That’s a tricky gimmick to employ, as it risks trivializing the story, and/or becoming too “cute.” But Bradbeer and Brown pull it off with élan, thanks in great part to the young actress’ facility with a well-timed line of dialogue. She essentially draws us into Enola’s unfolding adventure, as if we’re well-trusted confidants.

 

Bradbeer also spices this live-action adventure with occasional Victorian-style “stick figure” graphics, courtesy of animators Luca De Giglio and Lucas Scapim; they’re employed much the way Terry Gilliam’s similarly retro animation bridged the comic sketches in a Monty Python TV episode. They serve here as brief history lessons, character introductions, or depictions of Enola’s deductive reasoning.

 

She’s clever and physically adept, having been schooled in both book knowledge and jiu-jitsu self-defense skills, courtesy of her free-thinking and rather eccentric mother, Eudoria (Helena Bonham Carter). Although forced to endure the late 19th century laws and social traditions that place so many restrictions on women, Eudoria is a steadfast supporter of the suffrage cause, and wants to help create a world where her daughter can have freedom and power.

 

Carter is absolutely perfect for the role. She radiates authority, determination and calm resolve, along with a knowing gaze that bespeaks an impressive intellect. (This is, after all, the woman who raised the world’s most famous consulting detective; we have to assume that he got some of that acumen from his mother!)

 

The Glorias: A glorious life, inventively told

The Glorias (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated R, for profanity

By Derrick Bang

We’ve long been intrigued by the notion of our Older Self being able to step back in time, and personally reassure our Younger Self that everything will turn out just fine.

 

Gloria Steinem (Julianne Moore, left) and Bella Abzug (Bette Midler) chortle over some
of the reactions to a recent issue of Ms. Magazine.

(Or, alternatively, of Younger Self confronting Older Self with a narrow gaze, and demanding to know what the heck went wrong.)

 

Director/co-scripter Julie Taymor cleverly exploits this beguiling premise in The Glorias, her adaptation — alongside co-writer Sarah Ruhl — of Gloria Steinem’s 2015 memoir, My Life on the Road.

 

Love her or loathe her, one must acknowledge that Steinem carved out an impressively ambitious career, despite humble and disorientingly peripatetic origins. Taymor — an eclectic filmmaker known for her boldly unique approaches to varied projects such as Frida, Across the Universe and her gender-switching version of Shakespeare’s The Tempest — employs different actresses to depict four primary “pivot points” in Steinem’s life.

 

As her defiantly non-linear narrative bounces back and forth in time, these four selves occasionally meet and discuss what has transpired, or will transpire. Such encounters are filmed in dreamlike, soft-focus monochrome, always while traveling, and usually on a Greyhound bus whose windows look out upon a different time and place: an easy metaphor for the notion that life is a journey, with each stop far more important than the eventual destination.

 

Youngest Gloria (doe-eyed Ryan Kiera Armstrong) is enchanted by her irrepressible, irresponsible but flamboyantly theatrical father, Leo (Timothy Hutton), a huckster and charlatan forever keeping his family one step ahead of the previous town’s creditors. Despite the profoundly negative affect this has on his wife, Ruth (Enid Graham), Leo nonetheless inspires Gloria to recognize that travel is the best possible education.

 

Hutton is excellent: totally persuasive as a silver-tongued con artist who nonetheless knows, in his heart, that he’s destined to disappoint all the people he loves.

 

Twelve-year-old Gloria (Lulu Wilson), solemn beyond her years, is faced with the challenge of caring for her mentally fragile mother, after Leo abandons his family. With Ruth sliding ever deeper into chronic despair, Gloria soon understands how important it is for a woman to be able to make her own way in the world, without being beholden to a husband. We see the resolve in Wilson’s gaze.

 

There’s also a telling conversation, when Gloria discovers that her mother had once been a writer and reporter … forced to work behind a male byline. And we realize, from our contemporary remove, that Gloria would grow up to live her mother’s unlived life. (And how often, I wonder, does a child honor a parent in such an unspoken fashion?)