Friday, February 7, 2025

I'm Still Here: A formidable tribute to one woman's courage

I'm Still Here (2024) • View trailer
Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, drug use, fleeting nudity and occasional profanity
Available via: Movie theaters

Political statements don’t come much stronger than this one.

 

Nor as authentic.

 

Rubens (Selton Mello) and his wife Eunice (Fernanda Torres) enjoy a playful moment
with their two youngest children, Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira) and Maria (Cora Mora),
on the beach in front of their home.


Brazilian director Walter Salles’ quietly chilling docu-drama is based faithfully on Marcelo Rubens Paiva’s Ainda Estou Aqui, a 2015 biography of his mother, Eunice, and what she and her family endured in the early 1970s.

The setting is Rio de Janeiro, six years into the 21-year military dictatorship that overthrew the democratically elected president in 1964. Eunice (Fernanda Torres), her husband Rubens (Selton Mello) and their five children — Vera (Valentina Herszage), Eliana (Luiza Kosovski), Nalu (Barbara Luz), Marcelo (Guilherme Silveira) and Maria (Cora Mora) — live comfortably in a welcoming beachside home. Their doors and windows are always open, beckoning friends and neighbors.

 

Beloved live-in housekeeper Zeze (Pri Helena) may as well be a family member.

 

Salles spends considerable time on this idyllic introduction. The family often is at the beach, Marcelo kicking a soccer ball with friends, while his sisters play volleyball. Eunice floats contentedly in the calm ocean waters. Meals are cheerfully boisterous, often with visitors. Marcelo finds an adorable stray dog on the beach; Rubens hasn’t the heart to refuse his son’s entreaty to adopt it.

 

The warmth, tenderness and conviviality displayed in these early scenes is the best argument I’ve yet seen for establishing an Academy Awards category for casting directors. In this case, Leticia Naveira has assembled an amazing ensemble of actors; the children, in particular, display the closely knit camaraderie and love we’d expect from an actual family. Interactions with their parents, and peers and other adults, are equally persuasive.

 

These establishing scenes are an intoxicating blend of Adrian Teijido’s gorgeous 35mm cinematography — as luxurious as the beachside setting — and amateur footage shot by Vera, with her new Super 8 camera

 

If all of this looks and feels unexpectedly intimate, it arrives honestly. Salles has long known the Paiva family; he spent part of his adolescence in the house that becomes central to this film. Directors often regard certain projects as a “labor of love,” and that’s absolutely, clearly the case here.

Love Hurts: A painful outcome

Love Hurts (2025) • View trailer
2 stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong bloody violence, gore and relentless profanity
Available via: Movie theaters

Ke Huy Quan, still fresh from his Oscar win for Everything Everywhere All at Once, can’t be blamed for capitalizing on his renewed 15 minutes of fame.

 

But one could wish he chose his projects more carefully.

 

When Rose (Ariana DeBose) rashly decides to come out of hiding, she hopes to enlist
Marvin (Ke Huy Quan) in her scheme to seek revenge for past events. Alas, Marvin
doesn't wish to wreck the comfortable life he has build ... but will he have a choice?


At its best — and I use that term very loosely — this fitfully amusing guilty pleasure can be regarded as a more vicious nod to Jackie Chan’s chaotic, exploit-the-surroundings martial arts style.

Quan has serious taekwondo chops, having spent his 20-year acting hiatus working as an action/stunt consultant under the tutelage of Hong Kong director/choreographer Corey Yuen. Quan displays all the right moves here, employing everything from office furniture to laptops while handling everything (literally) thrown at him by stunt coordinator Can Aydin.

 

This film’s wafer-thin plot — cobbled together by scripters Matthew Murray, Josh Stoddard and Luke Passmore — also gets points for its mordant humor. One baddie fancies himself a poet; a second one can’t figure out how to patch things up with his wife; the Valentine’s Day setting repeatedly comes into play.

 

But stunt coordinator-turned-first-time-director Jonathan Eusebio and his writers break the cardinal rule of such films: Killing innocents isn’t kosher ... and it’s a particularly egregious sin when their demise is accompanied by a slice of gratuitously tasteless gore.

 

Eusebio’s film lurches to an abrupt stop when he so indulges ... and, in the blink of an eye, the fun drains away.

 

Never to return.

 

(The endless F-bombs also don’t help.)

 

Marvin Gable (Quan), a realtor heading his own Milwaukee firm, has achieved considerable success thanks to the savvy care and charm with which he matches prospective buyers with their imagined dream homes. Alas, a crimson envelope shatters his routine on this particular February 14; it’s from Rose (Ariana DeBose), a former partner-in-crime whom he long ago left for dead.

 

But before he can consider the implications of her reappearance, Marvin is attacked by the hulking Raven (Mustafa Shakir); the subsequent skirmish destroys Marvin’s office, the cacophony somehow failing to be noticed by the rest of his staff.

 

Even executive assistant Ashley (Lio Tipton) regards the noise behind her boss’ closed door with little more than mild curiosity, but she has an excuse: cynicism and disillusionment with life, exacerbated by the hearts-and-flowers trappings of this contrived “day of love.”

Friday, January 31, 2025

The Brutalist: A monumental effort

The Brutalist (2024) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for strong sexual content, graphic nudity, rape, profanity and drug use
Available via: Movie theaters
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.2.25

This film is impressive in many respects. 

 

Director/co-writer Brady Corbet ambitiously tackles an overwhelming, quite possibly unattainable endeavor much the way this story’s protagonist does.

 

Immigrant architect LĂ¡szlĂ³ TĂ³th (Adrien Brody) has an uphill battle, persuading old-money
movers and shakers that his cutting-edge structure will be an asset to their community.


Alas, Corbet’s reach ultimately exceeds his grasp.

From the very first frame, this film Calls Attention To Itself. Lol Crawley’s cinematographic choice is 70mm VistaVision, a throwback logo and widescreen variant long discarded since its 1950s debut. Sebastian Pardo’s title credits design mimics the shape and style of the Brutalism architectural movement that erupted in Europe and — as in this story — Pennsylvania during that same decade.

 

Further mimicking this Old Hollywood approach, Corbet’s film opens with an overture, then proceeds with a first act — “The Enigma of Arrival” — a 15-minute intermission (with a clock that counts down against a key photograph), followed by a second act — “The Hard Core of Beauty” — and an epilogue.

 

Daniel Blumberg’s wildly eclectic score often clashes — deliberately — with the cacophonous “slabs of noise” from Andy Neil’s sound design. The result is jarring, startling and disorienting, reflecting the central character’s professional, mental and emotional journey.

 

It often feels like this saga is based on actual events, and actual people, but no; aside from acknowledging the post-WWII Brutalism movement itself, Corbet and co-writer Mona Fastvoid’s entirely fictitious story and characters are merely suggested by Brutalist architects Le Corbusier, Paul Rudolph and Ralph Rapson, with a narrative arc that owes much to Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead, and a soupçon of Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane.

 

LĂ¡szlĂ³ TĂ³th (Adrien Brody) is introduced in a confusing blur of motion: a Hungarian Holocaust survivor newly arrived in the United States, on a ship laden with fellow immigrants. Tellingly, his first view of the Statue of Liberty is upside-down, and then sideways, as he emerges from the ship’s bowels: a warning that America’s promise of opportunity is skewed.

 

That, coupled with the preceding Goethe quote — “None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe themselves free” — promises that LĂ¡szlĂ³’s subsequent journey will not end happily.

Friday, January 24, 2025

September 5: Impressively powerful

September 5 (2024) • View trailer
Five stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity and dramatic intensity
Available via: Movie theaters
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.26.25 

Ingenuity under pressure is fascinating.

 

Director Tim Fehlbaum’s fact-based depiction of what occurred during the 1972 Munich Olympics — and how those events were broadcast to the entire world — is a suspenseful and riveting docudrama: a true, edge-of-the-seat nail-biter.

 

Members of the ABC News sports team — from left, standing, Jacques Lesgardes
(Zinedine Soualem), Geoff Mason (John Magaro) and Carter Jeffrey (Marcus
Rutherford) — surround translator Marianne Gebhard (Leonie Benesch) as she 
dictates an update from the Munich police radio frequency.


The suspense derives not from the terrorist attack itself — the details of which are well known, and remain seared into history — but the resourceful, behind-the-scenes scrambling by the ABC News sports broadcasting team, which allowed 900 million global viewers to witness this incident, in real time.

The key phrase in that previous sentence is “sports broadcasting team” ... as opposed to seasoned television news journalists. That distinction heightens this story’s drama.

 

Events begin quietly, following coverage of events taking place during Day 10 of the Olympics. Newbie coordinating producer Geoffrey Mason (played by John Magaro) is granted the opportunity to helm the next day’s coverage, thanks to a recommendation by Marvin Bader (Ben Chaplin), then vice-president of ABC-TV’s Olympic Operations. They both answer to Roone Arledge (Peter Sarsgaard), then president of ABC Sports (and later president of ABC News, from 1977 to ’98).

 

World-wide broadcast of the Games has been made possible, for the first time, thanks to new satellite technology.

 

The “thrill of victory and agony of defeat” sporting events aside, these summer Olympics are hugely important for political reasons: the first Games hosted by a German city since Adolf Hitler’s notorious 1936 Berlin travesty. The 1972 invitation was extended, in part, as a means of giving West Germany an opportunity to showcase its reborn democratic virtues.

 

This is tremendously important to the ABC team’s German translator, Marianne Gebhardt (Leonie Benesch), who wants the world to see her “new and improved” country.

 

(Unlike the aforementioned individuals, and a few others, Gebhardt is a fictitious character based on a composite of several translators.)

 

Everything goes pear-shaped at 4:30 a.m. September 5, when gun shots are heard from within the Olympic Village. They’re followed quickly by reports on the local police radio frequency — which Gebhardt translates — that armed individuals have invaded the quarters of the Israeli Olympic team.

Juror #2: Motion to find this drama engaging!

Juror #2 (2024) • View trailer
Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and occasional profanity
Available via: MAX

Twisty courtroom thrillers have been scarce lately, and this one’s a corker.

 

Jonathan A. Abrams’ sharp script — an impressive screenwriting debut — is well matched with director Clint Eastwood’s capably measured approach. The first half hour sets up expectations of a feisty battle between prosecutor Faith Killebrew (Toni Collette) and defense attorney Eric Resnick (Chris Messina), possibly moving into 12 Angry Men territory, involving a lone hold-out during jury deliberations.

 

Justin (Nicholas Hoult, second from left in the front row) soon realizes that he likely knows
more than the rest of his fellow jurors. They include Harold (J.K. Simmons, two seats to
Justin's left.)

But no. Abrams’ plot is more twisty ... and while he does include a nod to that famous 1954 Reginald Rose stage play-turned-film, things move in unexpected directions.

The setting is Savannah, Georgia. Justin Kemp (Nicholas Hoult), a recovering alcoholic four years sober, writes for a regional lifestyle magazine. He’s married to Allison (Zoey Deutch), nine months into a high-risk pregnancy, after previous efforts failed. She’s understandably anxious and clinging, and the last thing she wants is for Justin to get tagged after showing up for a jury summons.

 

Their initial dynamic feels brittle, which Hoult and Deutch handle persuasively. She’s a fragile mess, and he’s patient and solicitous to an exaggerated degree. It becomes clear that, just as Allison doesn’t want to do anything to screw up her pregnancy, Justin doesn’t want to betray the second chance that she gave him, four years earlier.

 

Justin does indeed get selected, after an amusing exchange with Judge Thelma Hollub (Amy Aquino, always solid). It’s a murder trial, with James Michael Sythe (Gabriel Basso) accused of killing his girlfriend, Kendall Carter (Francesca Eastwood), after a nasty spat at The Hideaway, their favorite bar. 

 

As recounted in flashback — by several witnesses — a few details change, Rashomon-style. Even so, the core events seem solid: Sythe and Carter argued, and he broke a bottle; they continued to yell at each other outside, in the pouring rain; she left in a huff, walking down the darkened road; after a brief pause, he got into his car and followed her.

 

A hiker found Carter’s body the next morning, in a creek channel beneath a bridge along the same road.

 

Killebrew builds a solid case, based primarily on Sythe’s sketchy history and longtime aggressive behavior. But as Resnick subsequently points out, nobody saw his client kill Carter; the evidence is entirely circumstantial. As a sidebar, Killebrew has tied this case to her election campaign for district attorney; she can’t lose. This adds an unsavory note to Collette’s performance, as we wonder whether Killebrew’s judgment is compromised.

Friday, January 17, 2025

The Room Next Door: Confronting the ultimate enemy

The Room Next Door (2024) • View trailer
Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for thematic content, sexual candor and occasional profanity
Available via: Movie theaters

Greater love hath no friend...

 

Pedro AlmodĂ³var traditionally makes films about women — often a pair of women — and they always talk a lot. It’s tempting to assume that he’d have been happier as a director of stage dramas, but that would overlook the beautifully composed cinematography that always highlights his productions — in this case, courtesy of Eduard Grau — and which almost becomes a character in itself.

 

During one of her better days, Martha (TIlda Swinton, left) and Ingrid (Julianne Moore)
visit a bookstore, where the former buys books she'll never have time to read.


This is writer/director AlmodĂ³var’s first English-language film, and he’s equally adept with dialogue that feels and sounds just as authentic, at every moment.

Ingrid (Julianne Moore) and Martha (Tilda Swinton) were close friends during their early, post-college years, when they worked together at the same magazine. Ingrid subsequently became a successful author of autobiographical fiction, with legions of adoring fans; Martha became a war correspondent energized by the adrenaline-charged buzz of being in a danger zone.

 

They lost touch, as the years passed. The film begins as the Manhattan-based Ingrid chances to learn, from a mutual acquaintance during a bookstore signing, that Martha has been hospitalized.

 

Ingrid visits immediately, and is stunned by the news that Martha has end-stage cervical cancer.

 

What follows is essentially a two-hander, which occasionally expands via flashbacks and Ingrid’s chats with close friend Damian (John Turturro), who — back in the day — was a lover to both women (sequentially, not simultaneously). There’s a comfort and familiarity to the ongoing conversations between Moore and Swinton; they look, sound and move like longtime best friends.

 

We’ve all experienced this dynamic. Reuniting with some long-unseen friends feels awkward and uncomfortable; you can’t wait to depart (probably permanently). But it’s different with friends who somehow remain fiercely close, despite distance and separation; you fall right back into the pattern of finishing each other’s sentences, and perhaps even continuing a conversation cut short, as if no time had passed.

 

Reminiscences and catching-up comes first, although Martha’s condition obviously hovers throughout.

Emilia PĂ©rez: Breathtakingly original

Emilia PĂ©rez (2024) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity, violence and frank sexual content
Available via: Netflix

Wildly operatic, transgender, quasi-farcical cartel telenovela musical mash-ups — in Spanish, of course — don’t come along very often.

 

Enraged by the criminal scum she has spent a career representing, Rita (Zoe Saldaña)
vents her fury during the first act's show-stopping production number.


Depending on one’s open-mindedness, French director/co-writer Jacques Audiard’s dream project is either a wildly imaginative phenomenon — after all, it took the Jury Prize at last year’s Cannes Film Festival — or a ludicrously overcooked mess that repeatedly betrays its characters.

I lean toward the former, with some misgivings. Whatever its occasional faults, Emilia PĂ©rez covers strong dramatic territory, and boasts some truly show-stopping production numbers.

 

The elevator-pitch plot summary: Mexican drug kingpin Juan “Manitas” Del Monte, who for his entire life has wished to escape his cycle of violence and death, embraces gender-affirming surgery and emerges as Emilia PĂ©rez, a stylish, soon-to-be-much-admired advocate for citizens whose friends and relatives have been “disappeared.”

 

Of course, it isn’t that simple. Emilia soon discovers that a new identity — indeed, an entire transformation — cannot erase one’s heart and soul, not to mention a lifetime of vicious behavior patterns.

 

But all that comes later. Audiard — aided by co-writers Thomas Bidegain, LĂ©a Mysius and Nicolas Livecchi — begin by introducing the story’s true protagonist: Rita Moro Castro (Zoe Saldaña), a talented but overtaxed 40-year-old defense attorney, who is increasingly sickened by a career spent helping cartel thugs, murderers and wife-killers avoid prison.

 

Right out of the gate, Saldaña proves that she owns this film.

 

Rita’s anger and self-loathing are highlighted in the first dazzling production number, “El Alegato,” as she moves among hundreds of folks in a street market, chanting and singing while typing notes and then striding toward court, with everybody around her quickly drawn into the action. It’s an explosive display of cinematographer Paul Guilhaume’s inventive camera placement, Juliette Welfing’s tight editing, and Damien Jalet’s vibrant choreography.

 

The result is a show-stopper on par with the similarly fantastic “Another Day of Sun” freeway sequence, which opens 2016’s La La Land.

 

Rita’s professional talent hasn’t gone entirely unnoticed; she’s abruptly brought before Manitas (Karla SofĂ­a GascĂ³n), a terrifying, tattoo-covered figure with gold teeth and a menacing aura that could smother the faint of heart. He makes her the ultimate offer that cannot be refused: Find a surgeon who’ll handle a gender transition, safely relocate his family in the wake of “his” death, and navigate all the tricky legal details ... after which she’ll be paid more money than she ever could have imagined.

 

But the clock is ticking, since Manitas already has (secretly) begun hormone therapy. “Your predecessor wasted too much time,” he warns.

 

The subsequent whirlwind montage hits high burlesque with “La Vaginoplastia,” a production number set in a Bangkok transitional surgery clinic, where Rita learns all about the, um, necessary snips, tucks, folds and so forth. (This is likely the moment when puritanical viewers will choose to escape.)

 

But then Audiard abruptly shifts emotional gears — not for the last time — when Rita finally encounters an Israeli surgeon (Mark Ivanir, as Dr. Wasserman) willing to consider the procedure. During their quiet and surprisingly emotional duet, “Lady,” he warns that he can change the body ... but he cannot change the mind.

 

Manitas vanishes into surgery and post-operative recovery, with everybody believing him killed and vanished by a narco rival. By this point, we’ve also met his wife, Jessi (Selena Gomez), a self-centered little tart who pays scant attention to their two children; Rita relocates all three to Switzerland.

 

According to the original plan, that should be the end of it.

 

But no.

 

Four years pass. Rita has blossomed into a respected attorney on the proper side of the law. During a fancy dinner laden with movers and shakers, she’s seated next to a striking and impressively dressed woman. It doesn’t take Rita more than a few heartbeats to realize that this charismatic figure — Emilia PĂ©rez (also played by GascĂ³n) — is Manitas’ new identity.

 

And she wants to be reunited with her children. (Cue the warning bells.)

 

Rita arranges this; Jessi and the children return to Mexico, and move into the opulent home of “Manitas’ distant cousin,” Emilia. That this charade succeeds is the story’s biggest eyebrow lift, because — honestly — Manitas and Emilia don’t look that different. 

 

The very notion would descend into farce, except that Audiard once again plays against expectation, with the film’s most poignant song: “Papa,” a lament that unfolds as “Auntie Emilia” tucks her young son into bed one night. “You smell like Papa,” the boys says, sleepily curling into her arms; the play of emotions on GascĂ³n’s face is shattering.

 

Wanting to atone for previous bad behavior, Emilia enlists Rita to help set up a foundation, La Lucecita, devoted to finding the more than 10,000 people missing in this region alone. But the bloom quickly fades from this rose — for Rita — when Emilia is forced to solicit funds, during a fancy charity dinner, from a room laden with corrupt politicians, judges and public figures.

 

Rita’s wrath at this hypocrisy explodes into the second dazzling production number: “El Mal,” a cheeky, rock-and-rap extravaganza that sends Saldaña striding, writhing and bouncing around the room and onto tables, as Rita — entirely in her imagination — announces and castigates the vile secrets shared by this deplorable ruling elite.

 

This sequence will, fer shur, earn Saldaña an Oscar nomination.

 

In terms of storyline, matters subsequently go from bad to worse, building to what obviously will be Shakespearean-style tragedy.

 

That said, the increasingly grim third act also features several notable musical performances: “Mi Camino,” a vibrant, karaoke-style number sung by Gomez, which highlight’s the story’s themes of love and identity; and “El Amor,” a soft duet between GascĂ³n and Adriana Paz, who enters proceedings as Emilia’s new lover, Epifania.

 

Even when the primary characters aren’t bursting into song, their dialogue frequently shifts from spoken words to softly chanted ballads with oft-repeated lyrics. Almost all of these narrative-enhancing tunes are written and sometimes performed by French singer/songwriter Camille, working with composer ClĂ©ment Ducol.

 

In fairness, viewers who faithfully hang on during this film’s 132 minutes likely will be moved by the finale. Audiard definitely knows how to work one’s emotions.

 

However...

 

Gomez is a glaringly weak link; her acting chops simply aren’t up to the script’s demands, and she pales alongside Saldaña and GascĂ³n. (Gomez’s Spanish also has been faulted severely, but I can’t judge that.) 

 

It also should be noted that Mexican viewers are enraged by Audiard’s stereotypical depiction of their culture — he made the entire film in France, on sound stages — and GLAAD has branded the story a “step back” for transgender representation.


Whether this matters will be up to individual viewers, and the film is certain to be quite polarizing. There’s no denying the uniqueness of Audiard’s bold vision, but I’m not sure Emilia PĂ©rez ever will find the audience it deserves.

 

Friday, January 10, 2025

Vengeance Most Fowl: It's a gnome run!

Vengeance Most Fowl (2024) • View trailer
4.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, and needlessly, for mild rude humor
Available via: Netflix

Filmmaker Nick Park already had won two Oscars, the second for Wallace & Gromit’s The Wrong Trousers, when American viewers finally got to see that hilariously clever claymation short via a Wednesday evening PBS screening on March 20, 1995.

 

That’s how long it took to cross the pond. Unbelievable.

 

Wallace,left, thinks that his recently invented Norbot "helper gnome" will revolutionize
back-yard gardening ... but the more practical Gromit has his doubts.


We Yanks instantly recognized what our British cousins had known since Park burst onto the scene in 1989, with a pair of Oscar-nominated shorts: Creature Comforts took the award, besting A Grand Day Out, Wallace & Gromit’s debut adventure.

Park and his Aardman production team subsequently made the world a better place, in their own modest way: not merely by bringing renewed respect to the painstaking art of sculpted clay animation, but because they also carved a niche for adorable, family-friendly British whimsy.

 

Along the way, Park and his hilariously eccentric claymation duo collected two more Academy Awards, for 1996’s A Close Shave and 2006’s feature-length The Curse of the Were-Rabbit.

 

They’re all laden with folksy, tea-and-cheese, veddy-British charm, laced with countless spot gags and a wacky, off-kilter sense of humor.

 

Along with plenty of eyeball-rolling puns. 

 

That’s also true of the many other delightful Aardman productions that kept us entertained along the way, among them Chicken RunArthur Christmas and Shaun the Sheep TV episodes and big-screen features.

 

All of which brings us to this new film: not merely the first Wallace & Gromit entry we’ve seen since 2010’s A Matter of Loaf and Death, but also an inspired sequel to The Wrong Trousers.

 

That earlier short’s villain — Feathers McGraw, the nefarious, inscrutable penguin who disguises himself as a chicken, with the help of a red rubber glove — is seeking payback. (Park and co-director Melin Crossingham must be the only people alive who could made a mute, animated penguin look sinister.)

 

A brief prologue recaps how the beloved duo captured Feathers, and turned him over to the constabulary; the penguin subsequently was sentenced to a “high-security institution” ... the local zoo.

 

The story proper kicks off on a typical day with the ceaselessly inventive Wallace (voiced by Ben Whitehead, sounding just like the late and very lamented Peter Sallis, who played this role for years).  Wallace never met a simple task that couldn’t be “improved” via some crazily complicated contraption.

 

By way of example, each morning begins when Gromit activates the “Get Up Deluxe,” which opens the curtains in Wallace’s bedroom, tilts his bed, and — with the push of a red “launch” button — sends him down a chute, removes his pajamas, dumps him into a bathtub — with pre-wash, soak, scrub and eco cycles — then dries and plunges him into the Dress-O-Matic, after which he plops into the downstairs kitchen, fully clothed, in time for the automatically prepared tea-and-toast breakfast. 

 

It’s a breathtaking 70 seconds — choreographed to Lorne Balfe and Julian Nott’s exhilarating score, with echoes of the iconic main theme — which sets the tone for future, equally frantic action sequences.

Friday, January 3, 2025

A Complete Unknown: Not come Oscar time!

A Complete Unknown (2024) • View trailer
Five stars (out of five). Rated R, for profanity
Available via: Movie theaters

Director James Mangold’s mesmerizing depiction of Bob Dylan’s early years is laden with electrifying moments.

 

Early on, Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro) is the self-assured, veteran stage performer,
and Bob Dylan (Timothée Chalamet) is just a nervous kid ... but that dynamic changes
quickly, and quite dramatically.
The first comes quickly, when a scruffy 19-year-old leaves Minnesota for New York’s Greenwich Village, with little more than a guitar and the clothes he wore, in order to visit Woody Guthrie, with whom he had become obsessed after reading the legendary folk singer’s autobiography.

It’s January 1961: a quietly intimate moment in the hospital room where Guthrie (Scoot McNairy) has long been under care for Huntington’s disease (for which there was no treatment, at the time). His frequent visitor is Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), who has learned how to understand his longtime friend’s mostly unintelligible attempts at speech. Young Dylan (TimothĂ©e Chalamet) appears in the doorway; Seeger invites him inside.

 

Guthrie spots the guitar slung against Dylan’s back, and gestures for a song.

 

The young man obliges.

 

Like ... wow.

 

Movie magic at its finest.

 

A similarly powerful scene comes much later; it involves a cigarette passed between two people standing on opposite sides of a chain-link fence: unexpectedly sweet, intimate ... and sad.

 

Mangold and co-scripter Jay Cocks based their film on Elijah Wood’s 2015 non-fiction book, Dylan Goes Electric: Newport, Seeger, Dylan and the Night that Split the Sixties. The result is rigorously authentic to actual events — warts and all — allowing for occasional fabrications for dramatic purposes. The time frame is brief, from early 1961 to the galvanic, game-changing evening of July 25, 1965, during Dylan’s closing set at that year’s Newport Folk Festival.

 

To say that Chalamet fully inhabits this performance is the worst of understatements. It isn’t merely an uncanny replication of Dylan’s look, posture, mannerisms and the cadence of his mumbled, almost whispered speaking voice. Chalamet also sings and performs more than 40 songs during the course of this rhapsodic film, often sounding more like Dylan than the man himself.

 

The dramatic arc here will be familiar to those who’ve followed the careers of artists who burst explosively onto the scene, and then become pigeon-holed. Some are content to stay in such boxes, cheerfully riding the money machine; others — the genuinely talented — chafe at public expectations.

 

The resulting weight can be crippling. What, if anything, does an artist owe his public?