The Boys in the Boat: A riveting historical sports saga

The Boys in the Boat (2023) • View trailer

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

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang

Some people have levels of strength, grit and determination that challenge credibility, and can only be called heroic.

 

That certainly was true of the 1936 University of Washington junior varsity rowing team, which became the subject of Daniel James Brown’s 2013 best-seller, on which this film is based. (The book also prompted a 2017 episode of PBS’ American Experience, “The Boys of ’36.”)

Director George Clooney clearly has a soft spot for period sports stories — his 2008 dramedy, Leatherheads, is seriously underrated — and he has a clear winner here. Although both book and film focus on scrappy Joe Rantz (played here by Callum Turner), scripter Mark L. Smith has narrowed the window to the 1935-36 academic year.

 

Clooney opens with a sweet prologue that echoes the similar “bookending” that Steven Spielberg employed in 1998’s Saving Private Ryan. We then flash back to the mid-1930s, with the United States mired in the Great Depression. 

 

Joe, on his own since age 14, finished high school and somehow managed to get enrolled at the University of Washington. He’s an attentive student, despite living in the remnants of a car, studying by the light of a lantern, and frequently going hungry. Employment has been spotty, and not quite enough to maintain tuition fees.

 

As this saga begins, he’s given a 14-day notice to pay the balance, or face expulsion.

 

Best friend Roger Morris (Sam Strike), equally poor and struggling, learns of potential salvation: obtaining a spot on the university rowing team, which would include food, lodging and enough money to handle tuition.

 

But Joe and Roger are hardly unique; they’re among literally hundreds of young men who show up for tryouts. Coach Al Ulbrickson (Joel Edgerton, note-perfect) and Assistant Coach Tom Bolles (James Wolk) calmly explain that the odds are heartbreaking; the one team opening has only eight spots, plus an alternate.

 

Edgerton masterfully handles Ulbrickson’s initial warning, as he catalogues the degree to which the human body simply wasn’t designed for the amount of punishment inflicted by this sport; it’s a superbly scripted speech, delivered with gently implacable emotion. 

 

Ulbrickson has his own share of troubles. His rowing teams have performed poorly during recent years, and their continuing losses to Cal (UC Berkeley’s) team are particularly galling. He’s given to understand that if things don’t improve, funding may be eliminated.

 

Emma: Love's labours crossed

Emma (2020) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated PG, for brief partial nudity

By Derrick Bang 

Jane Austen, like Dickens and Shakespeare, never gets old.

 

Director Autumn de Wilde’s lavish adaptation of Emma was one of the early COVID casualties, initially scheduled for theatrical release in late February. The loss of that traditional debut is unfortunate, since the sumptuous efforts of cinematographer Christopher Blauvelt, production designer Kave Quinn and costume designer Alexandra Byrne screamed for a big-screen showcase.

 

The unworldly Harriet (Mia Goth, left) hangs — like a worshipful puppy — on every
morsel of guidance supplied by Emma (Anya Taylor-Joy). Alas, as we're destined to
learn, Emma isn't worthy of such trust.

The film’s arrival on HBO is nonetheless welcome, and Eleanor Catton’s faithfully droll screenplay works just as well on a home screen. But there’s no question the lavish estate settings would have been even more stunning in a darkened movie theater.

 

We’ve not had a straight American adaptation since the 1996 version with Gwyneth Paltrow in the lead role — and a nod to 1995’s Clueless, as a loose modern translation — so it’s definitely well past time to spend a few hours with Emma Woodhouse and her various friends, family and suitors.

 

Be advised: You may want to take notes, as quite a lot of characters are involved in this light-hearted period dramedy.

 

Anya Taylor-Joy is perfectly cast as the aristocratic Emma, not quite 21 years old, whose self-assurance is matched only by her determination to gift everybody with the benefit of her wisdom. Although culturally polished and well-intentioned, her inherent kindness often is overshadowed by a relentless tendency to meddle.

 

Indeed, her older sister’s brother-in-law, Mr. Knightley (Johnny Flynn, technically too young for the role), likely would call Emma insufferably arrogant … but he’s too polite and refined to do so. Instead, they bicker and banter in a manner that allows maximum exposure to Austen’s piquant and slightly snarky dialogue. (She was so far ahead of her time.)

 

As the story begins, Emma’s longtime friend and former governess, Miss Taylor (Gemma Whelan), has just “married well,” and become wife to the aristocratic Mr. Weston (Rupert Graves). Having initially introduced them to each other, Emma takes credit for this successful union, and — after returning home, to the family estate at Hartfield — decides that she’s a born matchmaker.

 

Her next “project”: new friend Harriet Smith (Mia Goth), a 17-year-old pupil at a nearby girl’s boarding school. (When she and her fellow students parade about in their scarlet coats — which occurs numerous times, as this film proceeds — one can’t help thinking of Ludwig Bemelmans’ Madeline, with its “…twelve little girls in two straight lines.”)

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald: Feloniously underwhelming

Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald (2018) • View trailer 
2.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and fantasy violence
By Derrick Bang

J.K. Rowling should have quit while she was ahead.

This newest glimpse into the Potterverse will be virtually impenetrable to first-time visitors, and even avid fans may have trouble keeping up. The information and character dumps are overwhelming, with Rowling — as scripter — apparently assuming that viewers will recall every little detail not only from this series’ first entry (2016’s Fantastic Beasts), but also bits and bobs from earlier Harry Potter adventures.

Having successfully infiltrated the French Ministry of Magic, in search of crucial information,
Newt (Eddie Redmayne) and Tina (Katherine Waterston) are about to be attacked by
guardian Matagots.

Which would be fine, if Rowling presented at least some pertinent detail and back-story along the way, but no; this is instant full immersion, and the tough luck for those unable to keep up.

But that isn’t the only problem. Director David Yates and editor Mark Day assemble this film quite sloppily, with multiple storylines hopping and skipping back and forth, in a manner as aggressively chaotic as the massive Chinese Zouwu that our hero Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne) meets along the way. 

Some encounters flat don’t make sense. Even at 134 minutes, it feels like we’re seeing a Reader’s Digest condensed version of a much longer production, and that too much important stuff was left on the cutting-room floor.

There’s also a strong sense of déjà vu, with Rowling “borrowing” from her own work. This is most obvious when Newt and his “Auror” (magical law enforcement) companion, Tina Goldstein (Katherine Waterston), invade the French Ministry of Magic, with the help of some shape-changing polyjuice potion. One can’t help feeling the echo of Harry, Hermione and Ron similarly sneaking into the British Ministry of Magic, back in the day.

It’s too much been there, done that. And way too much talking and angst. Long-suffering unrequited love. A soul-tortured quest for personal identity. Elliptical, deliberately vague conversations where characters refuse to be candid with each other. Dangling clues that don’t amount to much, when answers are revealed.

Frankly, this film is a dull, boring slog. It’s not fun.

Nor is Johnny Depp’s Grindelwald anywhere near a match for Harry Potter’s Lord Voldemort. The latter was — remains — a scary force of true malevolence, and was played as such in those movies.

Depp’s Grindelwald, in great contrast, seems more constipated than sinister; his “dire” pronouncements are intoned with a slow, emotionless flatness that feels more like sleepwalking. Were it not for his weird eyes and spiky hairstyle, he wouldn’t even look fearsome. One cannot imagine him rallying hundreds of “pure-born” wizards to his world-conquering cause, as occurs during this film’s climax.

Which, be warned, is little more than a blatant set-up for the next movie.

Green Room: Viciously suspenseful

Green Room (2016) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for brutal graphic violence, gory images, profanity and drug content
By Derrick Bang

This is a nasty little chiller ... in the best possible way.

That said, writer/director Jeremy Saulnier’s gory survival saga definitely isn’t for the faint of heart. The unsettling premise is reasonable enough to be quite scary on its own, and the vicious, suspenseful execution is the stuff of nightmares. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here...

As Amber (Imogen Poots, far left) looks on with grim satisfaction, Reece (Joe Cole) attempts
to persuade a trapped skinhead into explaining what the hell is going on; the rest of Reece's
friends — from left, Tiger (Callum Turner), Sam (Alia Shawkat) and Pat (Anton Yelchin) —
wait to see what will happen next.

Saulnier burst onto the scene with 2007’s high-camp gore-fest, Murder Party, which evoked pleasant memories of 1992’s Dead Alive, Peter Jackson’s early-career exercise in similar bad taste. (Well ... pleasant memories for those who go for such things, anyway.)

Saulnier got a lot more serious with his second outing, 2013’s Blue Ruin, which made respectable noise at Cannes and numerous other film festivals. Clearly, he was a filmmaker to watch, and Green Room — his newest exercise in nail-biting tension — is further proof. It belongs in the grand tradition of Straw Dogs, Assault on Precinct 13 and even Night of the Living Dead, all of which trap small groups of people in enclosed spaces, vastly outnumbered by evil forces determined not to let them escape alive.

Things begin quietly enough, as we meet the scruffy members of a hardscrabble punk band dubbed The Ain’t Rights: vocalist Tiger (Callum Turner), guitarist Sam (Alia Shawkat), bassist Pat (Anton Yelchin) and drummer Reece (Joe Cole). They’re nearing the end of a road trip/tour that has netted some artistic satisfaction but little in the way of cold, hard cash; they’re tired and discouraged.

This introduction is handled economically by Saulnier, who in a few quick scenes tells us everything we need to know about these twentysomethings. Pat is the philosopher; Sam keeps everybody in line; Tiger and Reece are the hardcore punkers. Minor larceny aside — clandestinely siphoning gas, when they lack the funds to fill up their van — they’re reasonably decent folks: just another enthusiastic quartet of musicians trying to get noticed.

After a potentially lucrative gig falls through, they accept a replacement booking, to play an afternoon set at an isolated, rundown club deep in the Oregon backwoods. Their arrival is greeted with quiet suspicion by the locals, many obviously of the skinhead/white supremacist persuasion, but the club manager — Macon Blair, as Gabe — seems friendly enough.