Thelma: Absolutely adorable

Thelma (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.30.24

Delightful surprises like this are why I’ve been a film critic for so long.

 

Writer/director/editor Josh Margolin’s impressive feature debut is a whimsical riff on action films, with their formulaic stunts “gentled down” to a human scale that cleverly blends laugh-out-loud humor with a sharply perceptive exploration of aging, fragility and anxiety. And if all that sounds like an unlikely mix, well, you’re not reckoning with Margolin’s savvy filmmaking and story chops.

 

Shortly after Thelma (June Squibb) and Ben (Richard Roundtree) begin their unlikely
mission, she insists on visiting an old friend, in order to "borrow" something from her.

It also doesn’t hurt that this enjoyable romp is turbo-charged by a scene-stealing performance from June Squibb — 94 years young, as these words are typed — who continues to take advantage of a late-career Renaissance kick-started by 2013’s Nebraska.

Margolin obviously took the old adage to heart: Write what you know. He was inspired by his spunky 103-year-old grandmother, who — in his words — “survived the Great Depression, World War II, the death of her husband, a double mastectomy, colon cancer, a valve replacement and an ongoing but allegedly benign brain tumor.”

 

Goodness, he even took bits of dialogue from his grandmother’s lips.

 

Squibb stars as Thelma Post, a feisty 93-year-old who still lives alone, much to the chagrin of her pestering daughter Gail (Parker Posey) and son-in-law Alan (Clark Gregg). But their son Daniel (Fred Hechinger) isn’t the slightest bit worried about his grandmother, on whom he dotes, and the feeling is mutual. They spend a lot of time together.

 

The story begins with a scene that’ll be familiar to every competent computer user who has attempted to instruct a clueless older relative on concepts such a folders, passwords, and drag-and-drop. But Margolin immediately telegraphs his charming touch, as Daniel sensitively guides Thelma through baby steps, without the slightest touch of impatience; indeed, he turns the process into a fun, shared experience. And Thelma gets it.

 

This interlude also introduces one of her tics: She often interrupts herself, or somebody else, to ask oblique questions such as “What is a computer?” or “What is electricity?” It’s not that she isn’t familiar with such concepts — she absolutely is — but she genuinely wants to know what things are, in the sense of what they’re made of, or how they came into being.

 

Squibb’s quiet sincerity, as Thelma unexpectedly drops such queries into a conversation, add gentle hilarity to this running gag. When in public, Thelma also frequently stops to chat with elderly individuals who look familiar, but turn out to be total strangers, after several rounds of “Do you know so-and-so?” and “No, but do you know whozit?”

 

(That latter bit also has a cute third-act payoff.)

Captain Marvel: Well titled!

Captain Marvel (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for sci-fi action and violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.8.19

Carol Danvers has endured more trauma, conflicting origin stories, alternate identities and just plain mean-spirited punishment than any other Marvel Comics character, likely because several generations’ worth of (mostly male) writers didn’t have the faintest idea what to do with a heroine who’d been created in the mid-1970s, as little more than a sop to the feminist movement.

Having traveled to Louisiana in search of Maria (Lashana Lynch, left), the friend who believed
her long dead, Vers (Brie Larson) finally begins to stitch jumbled memories into a coherent past.

All that finally changed in 2012, with the arrival of writer Kelly Sue DeConnick, who alongside artist Dexter Soy orchestrated a new series that firmly established Danvers’ Captain Marvel as a worthy figure in the Marvel universe.

And as an individual who can hold her own against heavyweight colleagues such as Thor and the Hulk.

That Carol Danvers has been granted similar respect by co-writer/directors Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck in the newest — and thoroughly enjoyable — entry in the meticulously crafted Marvel film universe. Captain Marvel manages the delicate balance of interpersonal angst, kick-ass action and whimsical snark, without succumbing to either slapstick self-parody or tedious cataclysmic excess (the latter a serious problem in many superhero films).

Credit also goes to Brie Larson, for her thoroughly engaging portrayal of a character who is equal parts pluck, resolve, intelligence, humor and (so it would seem) reckless stubbornness.

The result is just as entertaining as 2017’s Wonder Woman, which proves anew how much more satisfying the result can be — dare I say it? — with a woman playing a key role in the filmmaking process.

(Boden and Fleck have worked together since the turn of this century, initially on short subjects and documentaries, and later on features such as Half Nelson and Sugar.)

Panicked viewers who choked on their popcorn, while watching so many of their beloved heroes vanish in puffs of smoke at the conclusion of last year’s Avengers: Infinity War, may have wondered about that gadget Samuel L. Jackson’s Nick Fury activated before he, too, faded away. This film answers that question, while also bringing two long-established sets of Marvel’s cosmic players — the Kree and Skrulls — into the film franchise.

This is an origin story with multiple interwoven layers, thanks to a cleverly structured plot by Boden, Fleck and co-writers Geneva Robertson-Dworet (Tomb Raider) and Nicole Perlman (Guardians of the Galaxy). They keep us guessing during a complicated narrative that never becomes hard to follow, despite several unexpected twists.

Labor Day: Belabored

Labor Day (2013) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rating: PG-13, for dramatic intensity and mild sensuality
By Derrick Bang

Good artists love to stretch, and should be encouraged to do so; nothing is worse than getting stuck in a rut.

With Frank (Josh Brolin, right) keeping a wary eye on her, Adele (Kate Winslet) quietly
pays for her purchases, afraid that any effort to raise a fuss about this menacing
stranger might endanger her son, Henry (Gattlin Griffith).

Still, it’s puzzling that Jason Reitman — a director/scripter best known for deliciously snarky dialogue and the piquant social commentary of Juno and Up in the Air — would settle for the soggy melodrama of Labor Day. At best, Joyce Maynard’s source novel is one step up from a Nicholas Sparks weeper, and Reitman’s approach slides right into the sloppy sentimentality of a big-screen Harlequin romance, with an endless parade of stricken expressions and long-suffering sighs.

Honestly, this film has so many pregnant pauses, they should have delivered twins or triplets. Strip out the long wordless takes on young Gattlin Griffith alone, and Labor Day would be half an hour shorter.

Okay, that’s unduly harsh and somewhat unfair. When the anguished gazes come from Kate Winslet, they contain undeniable dramatic heft; her every glance and gesture convey a wealth of emotional data. To his credit, co-star Josh Brolin also delivers a persuasive performance, and Griffith — his protracted silences notwithstanding — capably holds up his end of the equation.

Somehow, though, the dramatic whole is less than the sum of these thespic parts. I simply couldn’t get beyond the story’s contrivance and constricted timeline: shortcomings that may have been less conspicuous during the leisurely reading of a 288-page novel, but which confront us aggressively during a two-hour movie.

The story is a memoir shared via adult hindsight by Tobey Maguire, whose narrative voice always is a treat; he delivers just the right blend of wistful nostalgia and reflective insight. He tells us of a most unusual event that took place when he was 13, amidst a particularly sweltering New England summer weekend in 1987.

Young Henry (Griffith) is the sole companion to his mother, Adele (Winslet), who has become reclusive following the quiet tragedy that led up to an unhappy divorce. Henry is her lifeline; to the degree allowed by his youth, he conducts modest financial transactions and handles small shopping chores. But he’s still a boy; larger responsibilities elude him, and their house is sliding slowly into disrepair.

Neighbors, although observant and well-intentioned, respect Adele’s desire for isolation.

The To Do List: Better left undone

The To Do List (2013) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rating: R, for pervasive strong crude and sexual content, graphic dialogue, drug and alcohol use, and constant profanity, all involving teens
By Derrick Bang

Back in the day, youthful sexual explorations followed a common sports metaphor, starting with reaching first base and concluding with the obvious home run.

My, how things have changed.

At first, Fiona (Alia Shawkat, right) shares good friend Brandy's (Aubrey Plaza) elation
over the progress being made on her summer list of planned sexual accomplishments.
But like the so-called comedy in this film, Brandy eventually takes things too far, at
which point Fiona demonstrates that while she might talk the talk, she apparently
doesn't think much of people who walk the walk.

In these sexually liberated and quite raunchy days of the 21st century, that simple baseball metaphor has blossomed into the complexity of a 22-level video game. Libido-driven folks keeping score begin with quaint French kisses and hickies, progress through once-unspoken acts such as motorboating and teabagging, and ultimately, ah, climax with the horizontal bop itself.

At least, that’s what writer/director Maggie Carey would have us believe, with her smutty teen sex comedy, The To Do List.

Sadly, this new film is neither as witty nor as memorable as 2010’s Easy A, which made a star of Emma Stone, and to which The To Do List inevitably will be compared. While this new film’s star — the richly talented and still under-appreciated Aubrey Plaza — deserves a similar breakout hit, she won’t get it here. Carey’s film is too uneven, too clumsy and (to its detriment) too reflexively coarse, in the manner of various Judd Apatow or Farrelly brothers guys-behaving-badly yock-fests.

Ironically, Carey’s biggest problem is that she doesn’t have the courage to pursue her genre convictions. Her script is plenty dirty, but only at a potty-mouth level the Three Stooges would appreciate. She never achieves genuine heat or eroticism, and too many of Plaza’s fellow cast members work beneath their talents, their line readings stiff, unpersuasive and motivated more by writer’s fiat than narrative rational.

We should perhaps ask the basic question: Is this film intended to be genuinely sexy, or merely filthy? Because if the former was Carey’s intention, to any degree, she fouled out before reaching first base.

Her story is set in 1993, apparently to avoid granting its characters any exposure to the Internet porn that has become readily available since then. We meet the over-achieving Brandy Klark (Plaza) as she graduates from high school and gives a roundly jeered valedictory speech. Whatever her academic accomplishments, she has become infamous as both a teacher’s pet and a virgin, the latter epithet apparently far more heinous than the former.

Despite being a social pariah, Brandy has two gal pals — Fiona (Alia Shawkat) and Wendy (Sarah Steele) — who like her but agree that she could, well, loosen up a bit. To hear Fiona and Wendy talk, they’ve either performed or contemplated every act once relegated to the Kama Sutra or Dr. David Reuben’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (But Were Afraid to Ask).

Much Ado About Nothing: A droll something

Much Ado About Nothing (2012) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, for sensuality, subtle sexual candor and fleeting drug use
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.21.13

Fred and Wesley finally got back together, which is pretty cool.

And while the circumstances are rather unusual, they’re no less delightful.

An eavesdropping Beatrice (Amy Acker, foreground) is astonished to overhear details
about how Benedick — elsewhere in the estate — has long adored her ... astonished
because it seems that she and Benedick do nothing but snipe at each other. Ah, but
Beatrice doesn't realize that Hero (Jillian Morgese, center) and the maid are fully aware
that they're being overheard, and are discussing "details" that have been exaggerated
for Beatrice's benefit.

Most filmmakers, after completing principal photography on a massive, gazillion-dollar project, unwind prior to the next step — assembling the director’s cut — by taking calm vacations ...  anything but film-related.

Joss Whedon isn’t most people. Prior to putting the finishing touches on The Avengers — last year’s wildly successful superhero summit meeting — he filled the in-between time by staging an intimate, micro-budget movie at his own Los Angeles home. And, as genre geeks know, when Whedon mounts such a project, he always engages the close friends who’ve become one of Hollywood’s most loyal repertoire companies.

In this case, a 12-day shoot (!) yielded one of the most unusual interpretations of Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing ever to hit cinema screens. Lensed in glorious, mood-enhancing black-and-white by cinematographer Jay Hunter, this modern-dress staging nonetheless employs the Bard’s original dialogue — condensed and occasionally tweaked by Whedon — and features faces well-recognized from his various television projects.

Yes, kids; that means Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel, Firefly and Dollhouse.

Thus, my somewhat cryptic opening sentence can be explained by the casting of Alexis Denisof and Amy Acker — Wesley Wyndam-Price and Winifred “Fred” Burke, respectively, on Angel — as Benedick and Beatrice.

Lest you roll eyebrows over the reflexive accusation that Whedon has unleashed a self-indulgent vanity production, well, yes, that’s certainly true. But who can complain, when the results are this entertaining?

To be sure, the initial disconnect is jarring. The setting, clothing and technology clearly are 21st century, which is at odds with the flowery Shakespearean dialogue. The acting style throughout is a bit ostentatious and overly mannered, the performers occasionally mugging for the camera the way a stage actor would pause for a laugh from the audience.

But that “settling in” period can be true of any Shakespeare production, even those that are rigorously authentic. Fifteen or 20 minutes into this film, everything starts to look and sound natural, at which point you’ll simply enjoy the richly contrived romantic entanglements present in one of Shakespeare’s most appealing comedies.