Maestro: Rhapsodic

Maestro (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity and drug use

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.5.24

This film’s title suggests that it’s about a man: acclaimed composer/conductor Leonard “Lenny” Bernstein.

 

But that’s not entirely true. Director Bradley Cooper’s thoughtful, lovingly crafted tone poem actually focuses on the lengthy, loving and tempestuous relationship between Bernstein and actress Felicia Montealegre Cohn.

 

When Felicia (Carey Mulligan) wants Lenny (Bradley Cooper) to slow down and truly
pay attention to her, they sit in a field, back to back: a sweet tableau laden with
quiet intimacy.

The result certainly is one of the year’s most visually sumptuous and imaginatively staged dramas. Cooper and cinematographer Matthew Libatique collaborated meticulously, almost intimately, in a manner rarely seen in today’s films; every setting, every frame, is a work of art.

Cooper and Libatique also worked together on 2018’s A Star Is Born, which earned the latter a well-deserved Academy Award nomination.

 

As was the case with that earlier film, Cooper again wears three hats: director, co-scripter — with Josh Singer — and star. Thanks to the finely crafted work of prosthetic makeup designer Kazu Hiro, Cooper’s transformation is uncanny: particularly during the onset of Bernstein’s career, in the 1940s. 

 

The performance goes much deeper than mere appearance. Cooper also nails the cadence of Lenny’s stiff, formal manner of speaking — adding emphasis with frequent pauses, as if ensuring his listeners are hanging onto every word — along with the man’s charismatic presence. He wasn’t merely the most interesting person in a given room; he consumed the very atmosphere.

 

He talks — and smokes — constantly. His running commentary is as relentless as the chained cigarettes.

 

Lenny also was his own, fiercest taskmaster. We get a sense that he rarely slowed down — perhaps didn’t even know how to do so — because he wanted to maximize the potential of each moment: whether composing, conducting, teaching, partying or indulging in a liberated sexual lifestyle that occasionally threatened his career.

 

The latter is a running undercurrent in Cooper and Singer’s script, which is drawn heavily from archival video footage, documentaries and interviews — notably those by TV newsman Edward R. Murrow and journalist John Gruen, briefly depicted in this film — and daughter Jamie Bernstein’s 2018 memoir, Famous Father Girl.

 

Following a brief color prologue that catches an aging Lenny during a solemn, meditative moment, the film stock shifts to monochrome as we bounce back to the World War II era, and the fortuitous event that launched his career. After having spent a few preceding years in Manhattan teaching piano and coaching singers, Lenny was appointed assistant conductor of the New York Philharmonic.

 

His lucky break came on November 14, 1943, when guest conductor Bruno Walter called in sick at the last moment. Lenny made his debut on short notice, without any rehearsal, facing an ambitious program that included works by Richard Strauss, Miklôs Rózsa and Richard Wagner.

 

Between the live national CBS Radio broadcast and the following day’s celebratory front-page story in The New York Times, Lenny became famous overnight.

The Family Plan: Amiable spyjinks

The Family Plan (2023) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for comedic action violence, brief sexual candor and fleeting profanity

Available via: Apple TV+

By Derrick Bang

This one couldn’t be more ridiculous.

 

But it’s an enjoyable level of “silly,” which makes all the difference: perfect for a turn-off-the-brain Friday evening.

 

It's Vegas, baby! Only Dan (Mark Wahlberg, far left) knows why he has made this road
trip with the family — from left, baby Max (Iliana Norris), Jessica (Michelle Monaghan),
Nine (Zoe Colletti) and Kyle (Van Crosby) — but they're about to find out.

David Coggeshall’s larkish script is a far cry from the horror genre that has dominated his career until now. The premise here may be cliché in the realm of spy comedies, but he develops it well, and grants us an appealing set of characters. Director Simon Cellan Jones and editor Tim Porter maintain a reasonably brisk pace, although their two-hour film would be tighter with 10 to 15 minutes shaved off.

Even so, I didn’t mind the length.

 

Dan Morgan (Mark Wahlberg) has carved out a happy suburban life as a devoted husband and father of three children. He’s content in his career as a successful car salesman; he’s amiable and remarkably persuasive. The key word he’d use to describe his life is peaceful: no stress, no excitement, no grandiose desires.

 

The key word his family likely would use is boring. Wife Jessica (Michelle Monaghan), although happy, wouldn’t be bothered if Dan showed more ambition; teenagers Nina (Zoe Colletti) and Kyle (Van Crosby) roll their eyes at the day-to-day sameness.

 

Ten-month-old Max (Iliana Norris), cute as a button, isn’t old enough to be bothered.

 

Ah, but...

 

Sharp-eyed viewers may wonder, early on, why Dan takes such pains to avoid publicity. His caution goes up in smoke one day, thanks to a burst of unwelcome social media ... and suddenly he’s confronted by a hardened killer, while grocery shopping with Max strapped in a chest pouch.

 

This is each viewer’s make-or-break moment. If the resulting supermarket skirmish seems too silly — Dan doing his best to evade this thug, scrambling to improvise, while keeping Max out of harm’s way — then you may as well stop now. But if you’re able to roll with this cleverly choreographed fracas, what follows will be equally enjoyable.

 

(Frankly, I found it hilarious.)

 

Turns out Dan was an elite government assassin in his former life, tasked with eliminating the world’s deadliest threats. He racked up a sizeable stack of enemies in the process — most particularly the vengeful McCaffrey (Ciarán Hinds, suitably malevolent) — who now know where to find him.

 

American Fiction: So true, it's scary

American Fiction (2023) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated R, for brief drug use, sexual references, fleeting violence and pervasive profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.29.23

This is as scathing a slice of social commentary as 2021’s Don’t Look Up ... and just as timely and relevant.

 

With his professional life taking an increasingly chaotic turn, Monk (Jeffrey Wright)
finds joy in his slowly developing relationship with Coraline (Erika Alexander).

But director/scripter Cord Jefferson’s new film — adapted from Percival Everett’s 2001 novel, Erasure — also is a deeply personal drama about a family in crisis, with memorably sculpted characters superbly played by a talented cast.

These two qualities seem wholly at odds with each other, and yet Jefferson makes it work. The result is enthralling — by turns hilarious, heartbreaking, sensitive and blistering — from the first moment to the last.

 

And very, very clever.

 

Thelonious “Monk” Ellison (Jeffrey Wright) is a respected author and professor of English literature, with several thoughtful, critically acclaimed books to his credit. Alas, they’ve not sold well, much to his disappointment, and that of his agent, Arthur (John Ortiz, making the most of a small part). Worse yet, his newest manuscript has collected nothing but rejection letters.

 

The carefully worded reason, from each potential publisher? The book “isn’t Black enough.”

 

“They want a Black book,” Arthur sighs.

 

“They have one,” Monk snaps back. “I’m Black, and it’s my book!”

 

This fuels Monk’s ire over — to quote Jefferson, in the film’s press notes — American culture’s tunnel-visioned fascination with Black trauma, typified by the fact that books and films almost never portray Black doctors, professors or scientists, preferring instead to focus on Black rappers, drug addicts, gang-bangers and slaves.

 

Because that’s what sells to the white audience.

 

Monk also is impatient when it comes his students’ cultural sensitivities, insisting that only snowflakes would be bothered by a course in early fiction of the American South, which includes coverage of Flannery O’Connor’s The Artificial N- and Other Tales. This attitude doesn’t endear Monk to his departmental colleagues.

 

But the absolute worst comes when Monk’s presence on a Boston literary festival panel draws a pitifully small audience, because almost everybody is in the much larger hall that features Sintara Golden (Issa Rae), whose newly published first book, We’s Lives In Da Ghetto, has become a smash best-seller.

 

Her read-aloud excerpt makes Monk wince, since the content and fractured English clearly panders to readers seeking stereotypical stories of Black misery.

 

Watch Wright’s expression, in this scene, as Monk stands at the back of the hall. He slowly takes in the room, his gaze becoming ever more despondent, as he sees the audience hanging onto Golden’s every word. It’s a masterful moment of silent acting.

Migration: A delightful trip

Migration (2023) • View trailer

4.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, and a bit generously, for dramatic intensity and mild rude humor

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.22.23

This is way too much fun.

 

Honestly, they had me at the hilariously Minionized rendition of the famed Universal Studios logo, before the movie even began.

 

This duck family — from left, Uncle Dan, Gwen, Dax, Mack and Pam — is about to have
an unexpected encounter with a rowdy flock of pigeons.

The icing on the cake: This film is preceded by “Mooned,” a Minions short that re-introduces the villain Vector, who has been stuck on our Moon since the events in 2010’s Despicable Me. (This short also serves as a prologue to next summer’s Despicable Me 4.)

As for the cake itself, director Benjamin Renner and Guylo Homsy have a winner, with their mirthful saga about a family of ducks that embarks on a supposedly routine endeavour — migration — which gets more chaotic with the flap of every wing. Renner and Mike White’s script deftly balances comedy, peril and family values, armed with a roster of well-sculpted characters brought to life by seasoned voice talent.

 

(I must mention that Renner shared an Oscar nomination for co-directing 2012’s Ernest & Celestine, one of the finest animated films ever made.)

 

It can’t be easy to maintain such comic timing over the course of a 92-minute film, but Renner, Homsy and White are up to the challenge. The narrative is divided into distinct chapters and encounters, each cleverly expanding upon what came before, and ultimately building to a thoroughly satisfying conclusion.

 

Nervous, overly protective Mack Mallard (voiced by Kumail Nanjiani) hasn’t ever allowed his family to migrate, preferring to remain in the safety of their isolated New England pond. Wife Pam (Elizabeth Banks) has put up with this for years, but now yearns to show the much wider world to their kids: teen son Dax (Caspar Jennings) and duckling daughter Gwen (Tresi Gazal).

 

Matters come to a head with the brief arrival of another migrating duck family, who share thrilling tales of far-flung places. Dax goes googoo-eyed over their teen daughter, Kim (Isabela Merced), and — when her family departs — that really is the last straw.

 

So, Mack reluctantly allows himself to be talked into a family trip to Jamaica, via New York City. Cranky Uncle Dan (Danny DeVito) agrees to tag along.

Ho-ho-ho: The best Christmas movies of all time (plus some turkeys) — 2023 edition

[Author's note: I first wrote this article for The Davis Enterprise in December 2005. When reviving it for this blog in late 2009, I was surprised by how little had changed. Indeed, the lists themselves remained constant; it was necessary only to mention a few more holiday duds which — although dreadful — weren't quite bad enough to make the turkey list. As I prepared this edition, another dozen years further along, several more recent flops elbowed their way onto the Worst list's near misses. What follows, then, is the original article with minor introductory modifications and the aforementioned updates.]

Next to Thanksgiving, Christmas remains the most popular time to gather friends and family members, surround yourself with food and enjoy a holiday-themed movie or two ... or three or six, depending on your level of commitment. 

Far too often, though, the roster of movies for Christmas Eve or Christmas Day suffers from an acute lack of imagination. Everybody can rattle off It's a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story and Home Alone, but where do we go from there? 

While you'll find all three of those films cited below, I worked hard not to simply state the obvious. 

It becomes more surprising, with the passage of time, that most of the best Christmas-themed films are decades and decades old. Many are in black-and-white, but try to be patient; I promise, the absence of color won't kill you. After all, story rules everything else; you might be surprised, halfway through one or more of these selections, that you're so wrapped up in the characters that you've completely forgotten about trivialities such as film stock. 

In this article's first draft, I expressed the belief that one cannot truly judge a film's impact until it has been given a chance to stand the test of time. As a result, nothing on the "classics" list had been released more recently than 1993. This updated version includes a 2011 entry, which — now 12 years old — has similarly endured, and become more popular over time.

I also wondered, back in 2005, where our modern holiday classics-in-the-making were hiding, and worried that Hollywood had lost its ability to produce a poignant, well-made Christmas film. To my profound disappointment, that situation hasn't changed. The vast majority of our choices, for several Decembers now, have been limited to dumb comedies; insufferably sappy, Hallmark Channel-style romances; or gory trash such as this year's Silent Night. 

With respect to such bombs, it could be argued that numerous films are worse than some of the entries on my list of turkeys. But many of the other options have no-name casts, and/or quickly faded into obscurity, so why call attention to them? It's much more fun to cite flops with big-name stars.

On a happier note, I've been pleased by several recent near-misses: Klaus and Last Christmas (both 2019), Santa Camp and This Is Christmas (both 2022). And if I ever get enough entries to add a fifth category devoted to documentaries, 2020's Dear Santa will be first on that list.

The following films are divided into four categories:

• The Bestest — Undeniable classics all, these are the most satisfying "traditional" Christmas films ever made ... which is to say, the sort of movie one generally thinks of, when asked to name a Christmas film. While most will be immediately familiar, at least a few should be new to you. Near misses: The Cheaters (1945), A Christmas Carol (1984, the George C. Scott version), Christmas in July (1940), The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992), National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (1989), One Magic Christmas (1985), The Polar Express (2004), Prancer (1989) and The Santa Clause (1994). 

• Alternative Fare — Although usually not associated with the holidays, or perhaps blessed with a cruel or darkly comic tone, all of these films nonetheless quite strongly concern Christmas. In many ways, they're likely to be better choices than the films in the first list, because you're less likely to recognize them as seasonal movies. Near misses: Die Hard (1988), The Family Man (2002), Gremlins (1984), Trading Places (1983) and We're No Angels (1955). (Ignore the 1989 remake of the latter.)

• The Worst — Feeling masochistic? Looking to drive some unwanted relations out of the house? Stream one of these holidays turkeys ... or pop it into the VCR or DVD player, if you're old-school. (Just don't admit to having made the choice.) Near misses: A Bad Moms Christmas (2017), Bad Santa 2 (2016), The Nutcracker and the Four Realms (2018), The Santa Claus 3: The Escape Clause (2006), Tyler Perry's A Medea Christmas (2013) and far too many more to bother with.

• Quintessential TV — Those born since the 1960s have their own holiday memories, often informed by television specials or the occasional holiday-themed episode of an ongoing series. Near misses: Edith Ann's Christmas (1996), Olive the Other Reindeer (1999), Prep and Landing (2009) and Shaun the Sheep: The Flight Before Christmas (2021).

Although each of these four lists is 10 entries long, I've cheated here and there, always with good reason. And, unlike traditional best-of-the-year lists, these titles are not ranked from top to bottom; the arrangement is merely alphabetical. That'll save me having to argue with purists who want to know why I prefer A Christmas Story to It's a Wonderful Life. (For the record, I don't; I adore both for entirely different reasons.) 

Onward!

The Archies: A delightful surprise

The Archies (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated TV-14, and suitable for all ages

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.17.23

All right, class; raise your hand if you read Archie comic books as a kid.

 

Seriously? I didn’t expect to see so many hands from twenty- and thirty-somethings!

 

Betty (Khushi Kapoor) is madly in love with Archie (Agastya Nanda), but he's torn between
her and richest-girl-in-town Veronica. Which will he choose?

And I never could have expected, in my wildest imagination, that we’d get a Bollywood adaptation of that franchise, much less this late in the game.

Or that such a film would be so much fun.

 

Director Zoya Akhtar’s charmingly retro Indian musical will be adored by everybody who made television’s Glee a monster hit for so many years. Everything about Akhtar’s film is note perfect for its early 1960s setting: Suzanne Caplan Merwanji’s small-town production design; Poornamrita Singh’s colorful, old-school costumes — researched via the archives of Vogue, Esquire, Sears and other period magazines and catalogues — that precisely suit each character; and a roster of young talent that totally sells this throwback concept.

 

I had flashbacks to the playfully energetic atmosphere that characterized Depression-era musicals, when Mickey Rooney and Judy Garland said, “Hey kids, let’s put on a show!”

 

Akhtar does indeed put on a show.

 

The note-faithful replication of this comic book universe owes its authenticity to the script by Akhtar, Farhan Akhtar and Ayesha DeVitre, working in full cooperation with Archie Comics Publications. (Pre-credits artwork proves as much.)

 

The setting is the fictional Anglo-Indian hill station town of Riverdale (apparently located in a part of India that hasn’t been discovered until now). It’s a bucolic community laden with small, family-owned shops, where everybody knows each other.

 

Riverdale’s founding, explained during a brief prologue told via animated rod puppets, took place after Indian independence. The residents celebrated their new freedoms by planting trees in the names of their children; over the years this space — christened Green Park — became the much-loved center of town.

 

This information dump, during a prologue, comes fast and furious: almost too quickly to read all the subtitles while trying to absorb the artwork. But don’t panic; the subtitles are easier to follow once past this prologue, in great part because everybody slides back and forth between Hindi and English, sometimes within a single sentence. Well over half the movie is in English.

The Boy and the Heron: Soars unevenly

The Boy and the Heron (2023) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for violent content, dramatic intensity and bloody images

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.15.23

In a nod to Mark Twain, who in 1897 was contacted by an English journalist responding to rumors of the author’s death— prompting Twain to reply, in part, “The report of my death was an exaggeration” — I viewed famed Japanese animator Hayao Miyazaki’s announced retirement, upon completing 2013’s masterful The Wind Rises, with a raised eyebrow.

 

After discovering that a pesky heron actually is a dwarfish little man magically garbed
like a bird, young Mahito grudgingly agrees to let this creature be his guide during an
enchanted mission.

Impossible, I thought. Miyazaki could no more cease to create breathtakingly wonderous fantasy realms, than he could will himself to stop breathing.

And while this just-released new film also arrives with the renewed insistence that it will be Miyazaki’s swan song, I remain dubious. He’s “only” 82 years old, which — should he change his mind yet again — gives him plenty of time for at least one more.

 

All this said, The Boy and the Heron does have the somewhat somber atmosphere of a farewell: a summing-up of the autobiographical touches; Lewis Carroll-style mischief; dream-like confusion; colorful blends of wonder and danger; and gentle, real-world warnings that have been hallmarks in all of Miyazaki’s films.

 

On top of which, this new film is a treat for the senses: old-style, hand-drawn animation that dazzles in a manner CGI has yet to deliver. We marvel at the wind-blown sweep of tall grass in a massive field, the savory intensity of purple jam on bread — you’d swear we smell the fruit — and the palpable confusion of the story’s young protagonist, Mahito (voiced by Soma Santoki), as he plunges into a senses-confounding trip through a metaphorical looking-glass.

 

But that comes later. Miyazaki’s film opens on its most harrowing sequence, in the chaos of 1943’s war-time Tokyo. Mahito awakens late one night, to the scream of sirens and fluttering embers of ash filling the air, because a nearby hospital has been fire-bombed. Knowing that his mother, Hisako, is working a late shift there, the boy scrambles in panic — the “camera” following him suspensefully, as he races back and forth to his bedroom, initially having forgotten to dress — and then pursues equally alarmed neighbors, as they all rush toward the hospital.

 

Where Mahito is just in time to see his mother engulfed.

 

Except ... Hisako doesn’t seem to perish in the expected manner, instead somehow bonding with the flames.

May December: Acutely disturbing

May December (2023) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for sexual content, graphic nudity, profanity and drug use

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.8.23

This is a profoundly uncomfortable film.

 

It’s also an acting tour de force by stars Julianne Moore and Natalie Portman: no surprise, since director Todd Haynes has a long-established talent for eliciting delicately nuanced performances in what are essentially two-character dramas (2015’s Carol and 2002’s Far from Heaven leap to mind).

 

At first blush, Joe (Charles Melton) and Gracie (Julianne Moore) seem a happy couple,
mutually devoted to each other. But still — and quite unwholesome — waters run deep...

But while those earlier films also explored the dangerous paths of “forbidden” relationships, the broken taboo this time — in Samy Burch and Alex Mechanik’s increasingly unsettling script — will be a challenge for conservative viewers.

(Sadly, the story is inspired by actual 1996 events; look up Mary Kay Letourneau.)

 

The year is 2015. Celebrated actress Elizabeth Berry (Portman) has traveled to the oak- and Spanish moss-laden neighborhoods of Savannah, Ga., in order to study Gracie Atherton-Yoo (Moore), the woman she’ll play in her next movie.

 

Gracie’s claim to fame? Back in 1992, at the age of 36 — a wife and mother — she was caught having sex with 13-year-old Joe Yoo, in the storeroom of the pet store where he worked alongside her son Georgie. She was arrested and imprisoned, had a child while behind bars, then divorced her husband and married Joe upon release: all of which fueled long-running, scandalized headlines in mainstream and tabloid publications.

 

Now, 23 years later, Gracie and Joe (Charles Melton) have three children: college-age Honor (Piper Curda) and twins Mary (Elizabeth Yu) and Charlie (Gabriel Chung), the latter two about to graduate from high school. Elizabeth has been invited, with Gracie’s full support, to “shadow” her and her family for several days.

 

Gracie also has instructed everybody to cooperate, to every extent possible.

 

(The casualness of such encouragement is just as unsettling as the situation itself. Which also speaks volumes about Gracie’s character.)

 

At first blush, Elizabeth finds the environment warm and inviting. Many folks — notably Mary — are dazzled by the mere presence of a celebrity in their midst. Joe is amiable and accommodating: a doting parent and husband.

 

But cracks surface; what seems warm actually is quietly stifling. Gracie soon reveals her true colors as a control freak (which Moore plays with chilling persuasiveness). When Elizabeth joins Mary and her mother when the girl selects a new dress to wear beneath her graduation gown, what should be a celebratory moment turns wincingly embarrassing, thanks to Gracie’s manipulative, left-handed “compliment.” (Yu’s expression, at this moment, is shattering.)

 

Frybread Face and Me: Profoundly spiritual

Frybread Face and Me (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Not rated; suitable for all ages

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.1.23

Discovering marvelous little gems such as this one, is the best part of my job.

 

Writer/director Billy Luther’s semi-autobiographical film is less a coming-of-age drama, and more a coming-of-identity revelation.

 

Although Benny (Keir Tallman) has nothing in common with his cousin Dawn (Charley
Hogan), they become inseperable during a summer that allows the boy to better
appreciate his cultural heritage.

The year is 1990. Eleven-year-old Benny (Keir Tallman, in a sensitive big-screen debut), raised in San Diego, barely is aware of his Diné (Navaho) roots; the only visible evidence is his luxuriously long hair. His mother, Ann (Morningstar Angeline), has instead encouraged his devotion to Fleetwood Mac and particularly Stevie Nicks; during their most carefree moments, they dress up like Nicks and dance uninhibitedly.

Benny also plays with action figures — he bridles when somebody refers to them as “dolls” — but his make-believe scenarios focus on kissing and their imagined sexual relations.

 

Perhaps due to pressure from his disapproving father, Benny is shipped off to Arizona, and the family “rez” where his Grandmother Lorraine (Sarah H. Natani, every inch a gentle, loving soul) has lived her entire life. She doesn’t speak a word of English — she refuses to learn, as it’s the “oppressor’s” language — and Benny speaks no Diné. They therefore talk past each other, although Lorraine is generous with her affection.

 

Benny has better luck with his kind, free-spirited Aunt Lucy (Kahara Hodges), a counter-culture throwback who makes and sells jewelry. His curt, quick-tempered Uncle Marvin (Martin Sensmeier), is more judgmental, believing the boy a disgrace to his Diné ancestry. Marvin fully expects him to help maintain the ramshackle pen where their sheep are kept each night, despite Benny’s total lack of experience with such things.

 

Small wonder Benny thinks solely of returning to San Diego, in order to see the Fleetwood Mac concert he’d earlier been promised. His isolation is total; even if he knew how to fit in, he’s disinclined to try.

 

The dynamic shifts with the unexpected arrival of his older cousin, Dawn (Charley Hogan), also dumped for the summer by her no-good mother (Owee Rae). Lorraine takes this in stride; we suspect Dawn frequently gets abandoned in this manner. She’s an aggressively odd duck: defiantly unkempt and somewhat overweight, which long ago prompted the unkind nickname — “Frybread Face” — by which most people call her (because that staple is “round and greasy”).

 

She’s never seen without her prized possession: a makeshift doll with a Cabbage Patch baby’s head and furry animal body, dubbed “Jeff Bridges” because the only movie she’s seen — repeatedly — is 1984’s Starman (on the rare occasions her grandmother’s generator is working).

 

Wish: Wish it were better

Wish (2023) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG, for no particular reason

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.24.23

Sigh.

 

What a mess.

 

The proverbial roomful of chimpanzees, banging away at typewriters, could have written a better script. 

 

Asha initially is enchanted when Magnifico shows her one of the thousands of "wish
spheres" he protects in his castle study ... but she quickly realizes that his outward
benevolence conceals something much darker.

The Disney Animation folks desperately need to pay closer attention to how their Pixar colleagues develop a storyline. And the six (!) writers credited here need to be reminded of the most crucial axiom, when it comes to fantasy: It’s even more important, than with real-world dramas, to establish a logical set of rules and stick to them.

Co-directors Chris Buck and Fawn Veerasunthorn’s bewildering train wreck is a blatant example of “art” submerged beneath crass commercialism: dictated solely by the need to reinforce the Disney brand and traditions ... and it certainly ticks all the boxes.

 

• Plucky young heroine? Check. (Another outfit to be worn by young Disney Princess fans).

 

• A tragically absent parent? Check. (Goes all the way back to Bambi, donchaknow.)

 

• An insufferably cute animal sidekick? Check. (The plush toys will fly off store shelves.)

 

• A plethora of new songs, each one striving to become the next popular power ballad? Check. (Great for social media clicks.)

 

• Frequent “clever” references to previous Disney films? Check. (In this case, scores of such references ... clearly a case of the tail wagging the dog).

 

The only thing missing is a coherent narrative. And characters we actually care about.

 

Actually, that isn’t entirely fair. Our heroine, Asha, is captivating: intelligent, resourceful, ethical, and granted a wide range of emotions courtesy of Academy Award-winning voice actress Ariana DeBose. But one can’t help feeling sorry for Asha, stuck in this poorly constructed story. She deserves better.

The Killer: Grimly fascinating

The Killer (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong violence, profanity and fleeting sexuality

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.17.23

Given that so many of director David Fincher’s films are cold, brutal and often quite disturbing — Se7en, Panic Roomand Zodiac leap to mind — he’s the obvious choice to helm an adaptation of the long-running graphic novel series by French creators Alexis Nolent and Luc Jacamon.

 

Surveillance is an exercise in extreme patience, as this career assassin (Michael
Fassbender) has learned, during a long and successful career that often involves
waiting days for the target to show up.

And, given that the primary character is a career assassin, the role similarly is a natural for Michael Fassbender, who excels at ruthless indifference. He radiates a degree of calm that is pure façade: a surface mask that conceals a cobra’s speed with a grizzly’s explosive brute force.

Scripter Andrew Kevin Walker augments the film’s already detached atmosphere by leaving all the characters nameless (except for a few clever and deliberate exceptions). They’re known solely by the “handles” employed by those who inhabit this lethal line of work: The Client, The Lawyer, The Expert, and so forth.

 

Fassbender is The Killer, whom we meet many days into his surveillance of an apartment on the other side of an active Parisian street. He’s holed up in the now-empty offices once occupied by WeWork (rather prescient on Walker’s part, given that the company filed for bankruptcy last week). He’s waiting for The Target to return home, at which point he’ll be executed by our assassin’s wicked-looking rifle.

 

The story is split into distinct acts, each taking the name of its primary focus. Thus, Act 1 — “The Killer” — profiles this man as Fassbender clinically details the rules, strengths, weaknesses, pitfalls, rash assumptions and mistakes that characterize his profession, in a grimly philosophical and nihilistic voice-over that runs nearly half an hour, while we watch him exercise, sleep, eat, yoga and remain focused on the apartment.

 

(“Trust no one.” “Forbid empathy.” “Anticipate, don’t improvise.” “Never yield an advantage.” “Fight only the battle you’re paid to fight.”)

 

Depending on a viewer’s sensibilities, this lengthy monologue will either be fascinating ... or dull and needlessly protracted. (I’m in the former camp.) Something about Fassbender’s presence and serene detachment makes it difficult to look away. Fincher and Walker also manage an undercurrent of very dark humor (which some viewers may not appreciate).

 

This mordant streak also emerges in the numerous arch songs by The Smiths that occupy The Killer’s playlist, and which Fincher alternates with the disquieting score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross.

 

The Target eventually arrives (at long last, some will think, with relief) and The Killer goes to work. Maddeningly, the man keeps pausing behind the small chunk of wall that separates two large windows. Then the moment comes, and...

 

...it goes wrong.

 

“This is new,” The Killer thinks aloud, with a soupçon of genuine surprise.