Eden: Paradise Lost

Eden (2024) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong violence, sexual content, graphic nudity and frequent profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Director Ron Howard — whose résumé leans toward uplifting, can-do dramas such as Apollo 13, Cinderella Man and Rush — seems a very odd choice for this fact-based saga of deplorable, depraved and misanthropic human behavior.

 

Friedrich Ritter (Jude Law) and longtime companion Dore Strauch (Vanessa Kirby) are
less than thrilled, when they suddenly must share their island with a family of
know-nothing newcomers.

What has been dubbed “The Galapagos Mystery” has fueled numerous documentaries and books, the most recent being author Abbott Kahler’s Eden Undone: A True Story of Sex, Murder and Utopia at the Dawn of World War II. The saga has long been well-known across the pond, although this new film likely will arouse interest here in the States.

German physician Friedrich Ritter and his patient-turned-companion, Dore Strauch, were the first “settlers” to arrive on the Galapagos’ Floreana Island in 1929: so chosen since it is one of the few with a (minimal) potable water supply. They spent three contented — if arduous — years as the island’s sole inhabitants. Ritter sent accounts of their lives back to Germany — picked up by occasional passing ships, and then published in newspapers and magazines — and pounded away at an increasingly Nietzschesque manifesto detailing his contempt for mankind.

 

They were joined in 1932 by WWI veteran Heinz Wittmer, his pregnant new wife Margret, and his teenage son Harry, having been inspired by the articles. Although the isolationist Ritter and Strauch likely were annoyed by these “intruders,” they and the Wittmers respected each other’s space.

 

This wary dynamic was completely torpedoed by the next arrivals: Austrian-born Eloise Wehrborn de Wagner-Bosquet, a shameless hedonist accompanied by her two German lovers, Robert Philippson and Rudolf Lorenz, along with an Ecuadorian “worker” named Manuel Borja. Claiming to be a baroness — a title open to historical debate — she systematically bullied and intimidated the others via an insufferably arrogant blend of entitlement, seduction, treachery and a hustler’s talent for exploiting psychological weaknesses.

 

What eventually occurred ... well, that would spoil the story.

 

Howard and co-scripter Noah Pink dumped an intriguing ensemble cast into this combustible brew of jealousy, resentment and worse, although some play their roles better than others. Jude Law and Vanessa Kirby aren’t entirely successful with their German accents, as Ritter and Strauch, although they otherwise slide deftly into the sort of eccentric tics and mannerisms that would be expected of a couple isolated for so long.

 

Law looks appropriately rugged and hardy, and he puts considerable grim intensity into Ritter’s contemptuous denouncements. Kirby’s Strauch is softer, with a fondness for the burro that ferries their heavier goods; she also limps painfully, having embraced this rustic lifestyle in the hope that her multiple sclerosis will go into remission.

 

Law plays Ritter as an obstinate fanatic; Kirby is more nuanced. Strauch tends to walk around barefoot; the first of this film’s many wince-inducing moments comes during the couple’s evening ritual, as Ritter carefully digs parasitic insects out of Strauch’s skin.

 

The King's Man: A royal good time!

The King's Man (2021) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong, bloody violence, profanity and sexual candor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.24.21

Fans of this series are apt to be mighty surprised — happily, one hopes — by this third entry’s unexpected shift in tone and style.

 

En route to Russia in a private train, Orlando (Ralph Fiennes, far left) shares what he
knows about Grigori Rasputin, while, from left, Shola (Djimon Hounsou),
Conrad (Harris Dickinson) and Polly (Gemma Arterton) listen attentively.

Whereas 2014’s Kingsman: The Secret Service and 2017’s Kingsman: Golden Circle are deranged, profane and gleefully over-the-top comic book burlesques, this new entry is only mildly naughty. It’s more accurately a sly bit of alternate history, with director/co-scripter Matthew Vaughn — and co-writer Karl Gajdusek — setting their cheeky Kingsman origin story against the very real horrors of World War I.

The tone is more akin to a Golden Age classic such as 1939’s Gunga Din … albeit with dollops of 21st century hyper-violence.

 

Key events are rigorously accurate: from the triggering assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, which set the Triple Alliance (Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy) against the Triple Entente (France, Russia and Britain); to the ghastly horrors of trench warfare that claimed the lives of an estimated 9 million soldiers.

 

Other films have depicted the latter more authentically — director Sam Mendes’ 1917 immediately comes to mind — but Vaughn, Gajdusek and production designer Darren Gilford convincingly establish a similarly grim tableau. One sequence, achieved with some clever CGI, is particularly effective: a bit of time-lapse legerdemain that reveals the impact of two years’ of war, as a pastoral Western European landscape transforms into a barren wasteland laden with mutilated corpses.

 

But this comes a bit later. The conceit of Vaughn and Gajdusek’s script is that this nation-shattering abattoir was orchestrated clandestinely, behind the scenes, by a nefarious cabal whose many members include Russia’s mad monk, Grigori Rasputin (Rhys Ifans). Their leader, known only as The Shepherd — he remains unseen, as with the early 1960s machinations of James Bond’s Ernst Stavro Blofeld — is motivated by an enraged hatred of England, for its centuries-old repression of Scotland.

 

Meanwhile…

 

Following a brief 1902 prologue set during South Africa’s Boer War, during which we meet Orlando, the Duke of Oxford (Ralph Fiennes), and his young son Conrad (Alexander Shaw), the story flashes forward a dozen years. Fiennes excels at this sort of refined, crisply authoritative figure; Orlando is unapologetically aristocratic but also mindful of his station, and the need to behave honorably for the common good.

 

As a result of events during that prologue, he’s also a devoted pacifist: a philosophy that increasingly puts him at odds with the impetuous Conrad (now played by Harris Dickinson), who — like so many young men of his era — wishes to prove his bravery in “glorious battle.”

7 Days at Entebbe: An offensive affront to history

7 Days at Entebbe (2018) • View trailer 
One star. Rated PG-13, for violence, dramatic intensity and brief profanity
By Derrick Bang

I cannot recall ever having endured such an egregious example of directorial miscalculation.

This isn’t a movie; it’s a jaw-droppingly clumsy blend of cinema, experimental theater and performance art, orchestrated by director José Padilha in a manner that undercuts the drama at every turn. Such a mash-up might be right at home in an opulent fantasy akin to La La Land or The Greatest Showman, but definitely not for a supposedly fact-based re-telling of the 1976 hostage crisis that took place from June 27 through July 4 at Uganda’s Entebbe Airport.

Gung-ho German "revolutionaries" Wilfried Böse (Daniel Brühl) and Brigitte Kuhlmann
(Rosamund Pike) repeatedly, endlessly discuss what they'll eventually have to do with
the terrified hostages awaiting their fate at Uganda's Entebbe Airport.

This should be a taut, edge-of-the-seat nail-biter akin to Paul Greengrass’ United 93, but with the far more triumphant outcome that deservedly retains its reputation as the most audacious rescue mission in modern history. But this film’s script — Gregory Burke, hide your head in shame — is undercut constantly by laughably melodramatic dialog, tedious talking-heads debates, and an insipid boyfriend/girlfriend sidebar.

But that’s not the worst. The film opens, closes and is frequently interrupted — even during the climax! — by rehearsals for Israeli choreographer Ohad Naharin’s 1990 work, Echad Mi Yodea, presented by the Batsheva Dance Company. It’s impossible to overstate the degree to which this ruins the tension, robs the suspense, and pulls us completely out of the narrative.

It’s akin to having the members of the dance troupe Stomp! commandeer the stage in the middle of the famous battlefield speech from Henry V (not that Burke is fit to sharpen Shakespeare’s quills).

Events begin when an Air France passenger plane is hijacked by four terrorists: two members of the so-called Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine, allied with two sympathetic German revolutionaries. We never get much of a bead on the Palestinians, instead spending far too much time with the Germans: Wilfried Böse (Daniel Brühl) and Brigitte Kuhlmann (Rosamund Pike).

At first blush, they seem hard-hearted and dedicated to the task at hand. But once the plane is diverted to Entebbe, and Böse and Kuhlmann are placed in charge of keeping the hostage passengers compliant, cracks begin to emerge. They almost become cartoon terrorists: wannabe revolutionaries joining the cause because it’s “cool.”

Brühl’s Böse is a former bookseller: too quick to yield to compassion; too willing to identify with the hostages; too obviously unfamiliar with the gun he wields. “I want to throw bombs into the consciousness of the masses!” he proclaims, trying to sound tough when challenged by one of his Palestinian colleagues. Not even Brühl can sell such a creaky line, and his “terrorist with a heart of gold” aura is simply offensive.

The Zookeeper's Wife: Holocaust heroine

The Zookeeper's Wife (2017) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for violence, disturbing images, brief sexuality, nudity and moments of extreme dramatic intensity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.31.17

I marvel at the wealth of previously undisclosed stories that continue to emerge from the Holocaust, particularly with respect to the bravery of ordinary citizens who risked their lives while defying Nazi oppressors.

As Antonina (Jessica Chastain, seated on the stool) and her son Ryszard (Timothy Radford)
enjoy a rare peaceful moment with the Jewish refugees concealed in their basement —
from left, Magda (Efrat Dor), Urszula (Shira Haas) and Regina (Martha Issova) —
they're startled by an unexpected knock at the front door, upstairs.

New Zealand director Niki Caro, whose thoughtful and sensitive films have included The Whale Rider and North Country, has delivered an equally compelling adaptation of poet/naturalist Diane Ackerman’s 2007 nonfiction book, The Zookeeper’s Wife. The resulting drama, anchored by Jessica Chastain’s luminescent starring performance, is touching, suspenseful and at times flat-out horrific, revealing yet another layer of atrocities committed in pursuit of Nazi “cleansing” and “species enhancement.”

Ackerman’s book was constructed primarily from the unpublished diary of Antonina Żabińska (played here by Chastain), who with her husband Jan (Johan Heldenbergh) directed Poland’s unexpectedly progressive Warsaw Zoo during the years leading up to World War II. Most of the animals were kept not in cages but in habitats resembling their natural environments; numerous critters also wandered among or even lived in the spacious, cheerfully chaotic on-site home with Antonina, Jan and their young son Ryszard (Timothy Radford).

The fascinating complexity of Chastain’s performance is immediately apparent. On the surface Antonina seems vulnerable, slightly withdrawn and oddly fragile: a woman not quite comfortable with the trappings and protocols of so-called refined society. But in the company of the zoo’s wildlife she blossoms into something transcendent: an empathetic “animal whisperer” practically capable of communicating with all the birds and beasts.

We eventually learn the reason for Antonina’s wariness: She’s a Russian-born Pole, and as a child saw her parents killed by Bolsheviks during the Russian Revolution. Trust does not come easily, which also explains her greater comfort among animals.

The Żabińska’s social life is lively, varied and bohemian, their circle of friends including artists, professionals and intellectuals, many of them Jewish. The subtle viper in their midst is Lutz Heck (Daniel Brühl), a colleague who visits frequently in his capacity as director of the Berlin Zoo. Even in these early scenes, there’s something predatory about Heck’s gaze, particularly when it lingers on Antonina; it feels as if Brühl’s eyes turn reptilian and beady.

Antonina makes the rounds of the zoo each morning on a bicycle, a young camel trotting alongside enthusiastically. Should a particular critter appear to desire company or need assistance, Antonina will kick off her shoes before entering the habitat barefoot, like some sort of forest-born wild child.

None of this is the slightest bit affected or risible under Caro’s careful guidance, and Angela Workman’s finely tuned script. Nobody here channels the childish fantasy of Doctor Dolittle; if Antonina has any cinematic ancestor, it would be Audrey Hepburn’s mysterious Rima, in the 1959 adaptation of William Henry Hudson’s Green Mansions.

Captain America: Civil War — The Marvel universe turns (sorta) serious

Captain America: Civil War (2016) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for intense action violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.6.16

Official title notwithstanding, truth in advertising suggests that this film should have been called The Avengers: Civil War.

Much as it pains him, Captain America (Chris Evans, second from right) and his like-minded
allies — from left, Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner), the Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) and Bucky
Barnes (Sebastian Stan) — realize that the only way to complete their mission, is to wade
through Iron Man and his comrades.

Although Steve Rogers’ Captain America (Chris Evans) endures a fair amount of angsty indecision in this rather busy chapter of the Marvel Universe saga, it’s nothing compared to the emotional battering suffered by poor Tony Stark’s Iron Man (Robert Downey Jr.). We’ve definitely left the larkish adventuring behind; although this mash-up is far more palatable than last month’s unpleasantly grim Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice, the core storyline borrows from the same somber, real-world textbook.

Which is to say, superhero/supervillain battles — even those that conclude successfully — result in considerable collateral damage and civilian casualties. Where, then, does responsibility lie ... and does the end always justify the means? Should superheroes be subject to national or international oversight?

Popular comic book writer Mark Millar’s Civil War storyline, which occupied numerous Marvel titles during 2006 and ’07, was a direct response to U.S. government overreach with respect to post-9/11 citizen surveillance. (And some people still dismiss comics as being trivial?) The argument divided Marvel’s characters, with Iron Man leading a faction that supported a “Superhero Registration Act,” and Captain America and various followers refusing to submit to what they regarded as a dangerous police state.

Scripters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely have modified this premise slightly, in keeping with events in recent Marvel movies.

This cinematic Civil War opens as Captain America and a few colleagues — Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson); Sam Wilson, the Falcon (Anthony Mackie); and Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) — track a terrorist to Lagos, Nigeria. It’s a crackerjack prologue, crisply choreographed by directors Anthony Russo and Joe Russo, and editors Jeffrey Ford and Matthew Schmidt.

But although our heroes successfully prevent a bio-weapon from being unleashed, Wanda’s powers unintentionally backfire, resulting in numerous civilian deaths. Back home, this proves one calamity too many for U.S. Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross (William Hurt), who convenes an emergency meeting of the available Avengers, forcing them to watch video footage of the city-leveling events from earlier conflicts (lifted from both Avengers films and the previous Captain America entry).

If this feels similar to the way Batman V Superman opened, it’s only because imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. (In fairness, Marvel’s comics struck first.)

Woman in Gold: Engaging art world saga

Woman in Gold (2015) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity
By Derrick Bang

Director Simon Curtis’ absorbing, ripped-from-the-headlines drama could be considered the All the President’s Men of the art world.

During a visit to Austria, Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren) and her young friend and colleague,
Randy Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds), make a point of visiting Vienna's Belvedere Gallery,
where the painting Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer has been displayed since just after
World War II. The question is whether it deserves to remain there...

Much the way that 1976 classic made journalistic investigation so fascinating, scripter Alexi Kaye Campbell breathes intrigue and tension into what — in the real world — unfolded as an extended, research-heavy, David vs. Goliath courtroom battle. Campbell has the advantage of the considerable tension surrounding the saga’s Holocaust origins; the result, while sometimes sliding into clichéd melodrama, builds to a suspenseful finale.

On one side of the dispute: octogenarian Jewish refugee Maria Altmann (Helen Mirren) and her callow, almost laughably inexperienced attorney, Randy Schoenberg (Ryan Reynolds).

On the other side: the entire country of Austria, personified by condescending museum owners and Ministry of Culture officials.

The situation at issue: actual ownership of five paintings by Austrian master Gustav Klimt, most notably his legendary Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer, a work iconic enough to be recognized even by people who know nothing about art.

As it happens, Adele Bloch-Bauer was Maria Altmann’s aunt ... and therein lies the tale.

Curtis and Campbell divide their narrative between the late 1930s, leading up to and immediately following Hitler’s annexation of Austria; and the late 1990s, beginning with a stack of letters found by Maria, in the twilight of her comfortable years in California, following the death of her beloved sister. The letters’ contents raise intriguing questions, prompting Maria to seek advice from Randy, a budding attorney and the grandson of a family friend.

Randy initially wants nothing to do with what he perceives is a ludicrous, hopeless case; he’s much too busy trying to fit in at the prestigious legal firm where he has just been hired by the authoritative senior partner (Charles Dance, in a brief but suitably intimidating role). But Maria, imperious in her own right, plays the “Jewish heritage” card ... and, before he quite realizes what has happened, Randy is hooked.

An exploratory visit to Austria hardens his interest, after he and Maria are rebuffed by the aforementioned cultural officials. Despite the restitution law passed by Austria’s Green Party in 1998, they discover — with the assistance of Austrian investigative journalist Hubertus Czernin (Daniel Brühl) — that this supposed display of “justice” is little more than a PR ploy, which the country’s nationalists have no intention of applying to any truly revered artworks.

And nothing is more revered than Klimt’s masterpiece, regarded, as Czernin explains, as “Austria’s Mona Lisa.”

A Most Wanted Man: Superb espionage drama

A Most Wanted Man (2014) • View trailer 
4.5 stars. Rated R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.25.14

John Le Carré continues to write gripping espionage thrillers, and he has the added bonus of seeing many of them translated intelligently to the big screen.

A Most Wanted Man is no exception.

Having brought naive young lawyer Annabel Richter (Rachel McAdams) into custody against
her will, German intelligence agent Gunther Bachmann (Philip Seymour Hoffman) patiently —
oh, so patiently — explains the folly of her recent behavior, in an effort to get her to reveal
information about the young man she believes needs her help.

This compelling adaptation is helmed by Dutch director Anton Corbijn, who first came to our attention back in 2010 with his disappointing handling of The American, an adaptation of Martin Booth’s A Very Private Gentleman. In fairness, that film’s failure had more to do with its dull, dreary script and a miscast George Clooney’s soulless performance, along with the fact that it was difficult to sympathize with a career assassin possessing few redeeming qualities.

Corbijn obviously learned a lot from that experience, because A Most Wanted Man boasts everything that his previous thriller lacked. For starters, le Carré’s riveting plot is ripped from contemporary headlines and fueled by the moral dilemma that troubles all progressive Western countries: Can we justify subverting established law in the pursuit of terrorists who refuse to “play fair”?

Le Carré’s densely complex novel has been compressed ingeniously by scripter Andrew Bovell, who deftly stripped away an entire set of supporting players (the British) in order to amplify the German setting and characters, primarily the veteran black-ops surveillance agent who has become the heart of this narrative.

That would be Gunther Bachmann, played to ferocious perfection by Philip Seymour Hoffman: the last film he completed before his tragic and untimely death.

To say that Hoffman’s performance is mesmerizing would be gross understatement; the man owns the screen, and this film. The forever disheveled Bachmann is a study in contrasts: a beady-eyed, chain-smoking, whisky-drinking fox who flouts established authority and couldn’t care less about currying favor, and yet possesses investigative skills that cannot be dismissed, even by colleagues and superiors who loathe him.

Hoffman has for quite some time transcended the artifice of performance; he’s one of very few film actors who doesn’t merely “play” a part, but instead fully inhabits the role of moment. That’s particularly true here, where we quickly cease to see Hoffman and instead watch, fascinated, as Gunther Bachmann embraces the sacred trust placed in his hands: to make the world a safer place.

That’s a key line: Watch Hoffman’s body language, and his expression, when he is given the opportunity to toss it back at the individual who first says it to him. Rarely will you see such an impeccably crafted blend of amusement, irony and barely controlled fury.

Rush: Quite a ride

Rush (2013) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rating: R, for profanity, nudity, sexual content, brief drug use and disturbing images
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.27.13

Friends tell you what you want to hear. Enemies tell you what you need to know.

Director Ron Howard’s Rush isn’t merely the fact-based account of an intriguing sports rivalry; it’s also the most exciting auto racing movie to roar into theaters since 1971’s Le Mans ... which, given Steve McQueen’s passion for authenticity and the superb efforts of cinematographers René Guissart Jr. and Robert B. Hauser — not to mention a team of five (!) editors — is high praise indeed.

The calm before the storm: No love is lost between rival racers James Hunt (Chris
Hemsworth, foreground left) and Niki Lauda (Daniel Brühl), each determined to
out-drive the other en route to a Formula 1 World Championship. But that isn't the
whole story by any means: Their saga is the stuff of sports legend.

No matter. Howard’s collaborators — cinematographer Anthony Dod Mantle and editors Daniel P. Hanley and Mike Hill — are up for the challenge. They’re also given a sensational assist by sound designers Danny Hambrook and Markus Stemler, whose ear-splitting attention to detail delivers everything except the pungent, eye-watering stench of high-octane fuel. Which you’ll probably imagine anyway.

But while the visceral exhilaration is palpable, it’s mere backdrop; this film gets its emotional heft from the fascinating narrative crafted by British scripter Peter Morgan, whose well-deserved Academy Award nominations for Frost/Nixon and The Queen — not to mention his work on The Last King of Scotland, The Damned United and quite a few others — demonstrate considerable skill when it comes to sketching characters through well-composed dialogue.

James Simon Wallis Hunt (played by Chris Hemsworth), British to the core, and Austrian Niki Lauda (Daniel Brühl) meet — and immediately clash — as ambitious Formula 3 drivers. They couldn’t be more different: Hunt is a womanizing, hedonistic toff who wears flamboyant aristocratic superiority like a cloak, while Lauda is solemn, remote and blunt to the point of insolence. Hunt is the pluperfect London playboy, Lauda the Teutonic precision; neither apologizes for his behavior, or would think of doing so.

Hunt loves the champagne-hazed thrill of victory, and is happiest when posing for photographs as he clutches an award. Lauda quite famously gave his trophies to a local garage, as “payment” for having his car washed and serviced.

But they both take racing seriously, albeit from different sensibilities. Hunt is as bold and reckless on the track as in real life, embracing the challenge for its romantic, death-defying aura; Lauda, meticulous to a fault, calculates odds and works them to his favor. Hunt relies on the largess of sponsors he can impress; Lauda drives mechanics crazy by ordering design changes ... which inevitably prove advantageous.

As a result, Morgan’s script focuses on the attitude of racing, as much as the sport itself. At a time when drivers were expected to die every season — as Brühl’s Lauda informs us, in his dryly ironic, off-camera narration — professional racers truly were a breed apart. (It could be argued that NASCAR, with its ever-safer vehicles and protective body gear, has stripped some of the rogue spirit from auto racing.)