Showing posts with label Joel Fry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joel Fry. Show all posts

Friday, September 1, 2023

Bank of Dave: A worthy investment

Bank of Dave (2023) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for occasional profanity
Available via: Amazon Prime and other streaming services
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.1.23

This is quite the charmer.

 

Director Chris Foggin’s irresistible underdog dramedy is loosely based on the actual exploits of Dave Fishwick, a working-class Burnley bloke who parlayed a one-man car repair shop into what soon became the largest minibus supplier in Britain, making him a multi-millionaire.

 

No good deed goes unpunished: When Dave Fishwick (Rory Kinnear) remains
stubbornly undeterred by London banking officials who refuse to let him play in their
sandbox, he winds up in court for his impertinence.


But he was just getting started.

Enraged by the early 21st century financial scandals that tanked economies on both sides of the pond — Barclays over there, Lehman Brothers here, along with others elsewhere in the world — Fishwick realized that the established banking institution had completely lost sight of its twin missions: to help people and do no harm.

 

Particularly because the CEOs involved not only evaded jail time, but in most cases still pocketed obscenely high bonuses.

 

He therefore set up his own lending company to assist “regular folks” living in his Lancashire town. (His grateful “customers,” honest to the core, always paid him back.) Emboldened by this success, Fishwick embarked on a mission to become an actual bank: an audacious desire, because the London-based financial authorities hadn’t granted a new bank license in more than a century.

 

(Astonishing, but true: Metro Bank, founded in 2010 — while Fishwick was setting up his operation — became the first new bank to launch in the UK in more than 150 years.)

 

Trust Foggin — who delighted us with 2019’s Fisherman’s Friends, a different sort of fact-based underdog tale — to spin this unlikely saga into an equally enjoyable romp. (After all, who doesn’t hate upper-echelon bankers?)

 

Scripter Piers Ashworth has taken considerable liberty with actual events — an opening text block admits that this film is “based on a true(ish) story” — and pretty much everything aside from Fishwick and his innovative gamble is fabricated. But that doesn’t matter, when the result is this entertaining.

 

Events begin when Dave (winningly played by Rory Kinnear) contacts a London legal firm to help him jump the hoops required to become a “real bank.” Senior partner Clarence (Angus Wright), somewhat amused by the barmy novelty of this request, dispatches young Hugh (Joel Fry).

 

One gets a sense that Hugh hasn’t ever left London’s metropolitan environment; his baffled expression, upon arriving in Burnley, is akin to that of a man suddenly confronted by an alien landscape. Fry’s stammering awkwardness is priceless.

 

Although he clearly has been sent to talk Dave out of this mad scheme, Hugh can’t help being captivated by his host’s earnestness and down-to-earth bonhomie. Besides which, there’s a certain logic to Dave’s pitch.

 

“Why do all banks have to be supermarkets?” he quite reasonably asks. “Why can’t some be corner shops?”

 

And, more to the point, “How can London decide if folks in Burnley are a good investment?”

 

(Pay attention to the way some of these folks say “London.” One suspects they’d be grateful for a spittoon.)

Friday, June 4, 2021

Cruella: Ninety-eight Dalmatians short

Cruella (2021) • View trailer
3.5 stars. Rated PG, for dramatic intensity and mild violence
By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.11.21

This is not your grandparents’ Cruella De Vil.

 

Actually, I’m not sure whose Cruella it is.

 

Horace (Paul Walter Hauser, left) and Jasper (Joel Fry) recognize that their equally
larcenous partner, Estella (Emma Store), also has the talent to become a famous
fashion designer ... but the chances of that actually happening seem quite remote.


Director Craig Gillespie’s fresh take on the character — available in movie theaters and via Disney+ — isn’t merely an origin story; it’s an historical re-write. The script — which apparently required five (!) credited writers — has absolutely nothing to do with 1961’s animated film or Dodie Smith’s 1956 novel, aside from borrowing the names of a few characters.

Which therefore begs the usual question: Why employ a well-known pop-culture character at all, if there’s no willingness to honor its roots? Why not simply create a fresh character, and start a new franchise?

 

On top of which, why update a beloved and still-popular children’s story, when the resulting new film is aimed more toward adults, and is likely to bore younger viewers?

 

Hollywood never ceases to bewilder.

 

All this said, Cruella is entertaining — to a point — thanks in great part to Emma Stone’s flamboyant, scenery-chewing performance as the title character. She’s ably supported by the hilariously kitschy efforts of production designer Fiona Crombie and costume designer Jenny Beavan (along with “eyewear designer” Tom Davies, who, quite deservedly, gets his own separate credit).

 

Gillespie and editor Tatiana S. Riegel romp through all these sets and locations with the giddiness of children on a particularly lavish theme park ride: all manner of extended takes, smash close-ups, cockeyed camera angles — cinematographer Nicolas Karakatsanis also deserves a bow — and other visual tics and hiccups.

 

No question: Cruella is fun to watch.

 

For about an hour. Giddiness, for its own sake, isn’t sustainable.

 

At 134 minutes, Gillespie’s self-indulgent film is at least half an hour too long. The momentum begins to wane as we hit the midpoint, and thereafter it’s definitely a case of diminishing returns. The second half never induces outright boredom, but the thin plot does get tedious.

 

Cruella narrates her own saga — Stone’s off-camera voiceover — which begins with a rebellious, erratic childhood that matches her alarmingly unusual hair color. Dad is long gone; her mother Catherine (Emily Beecham) is at wit’s end, trying to deal with her unruly daughter (named Estella at this point, and played by Tipper Seifert-Cleveland).

 

After the school demerits hit critical level — a very droll montage — Estella finally perceives how her behavior is traumatizing her mother.

 

Eager to embrace a promised new beginning, mother and daughter hit the road … but first Catherine stops at an impossibly posh and massive estate, to meet with somebody inside. Disobeying the order to remain in the car, Estella sneaks around the lavish garden and is just in time to witness a disastrous encounter between her mother and three savage Dalmatians.

 

(Done tastefully, despite the horrific result, which is necessary to advance the plot.)

 

Friday, June 28, 2019

Yesterday: Got to get it into our lives!

Yesterday (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, and too harshly, for fleeting profanity and mildly suggestive content

By Derrick Bang

Richard Curtis isn’t just wildly imaginative; he writes the sharpest flirty and snarky dialog going these days.

Having agreed to meet hyper-aggressive Hollywood agent Debra Hammer (Kate
McKinnon), Jack (Himesh Patel) is overwhelmed by the ambitious plans that she has for
a career he hasn't yet realized is within his grasp.
He’s one of very few modern film scripters who understands precisely how to replicate the rat-a-tat banter that characterized classic Hollywood romantic comedies of the late 1930s and ’40s, while also acknowledging modern touches. He has an uncanny ear for the boisterous chatter of a group dynamic, and — most crucially — he shapes even the most minor throwaway characters with equal care.

Nobody is superfluous in a Curtis screenplay; everybody has a significant part to play. Compare this to what we get from far too many of today’s lazy scripters, who focus exclusively on a given film’s stars, leaving the supporting players hanging uselessly, like clothes on a closet rack.

I hope Great Britain appreciates Curtis as a treasure — much like Hollywood’s Aaron Sorkin — because he certainly deserves such recognition.

(I also find it quite droll that one of Curtis’ most celebrated earlier assignments — given his flair for cunning discourse — was concocting escapades for Rowan Atkinson’s essentially mute Mr. Bean.)

Partnered with the equally astute Danny Boyle in the director’s chair, Curtis and co-writer Jack Barth have spun a truly delectable fantasy out of the irresistible premise that fuels Yesterday:

What if you woke up one morning, and discovered you were the only person on Earth who remembered The Beatles, and their superlative catalog of songs?

What would you do?

But that comes a bit later. Jack Malik (Himesh Patel) is introduced as a struggling singer/songwriter in the tiny seaside town of Suffolk: a guy whose enthusiasm and guitar chops can’t quite compensate for mediocre lyrics and an uninspiring, working-class image. He’s just about ready to give it up, despite the fierce devotion and support of childhood best friend and de facto manager Ellie Appleton (Lily James).

Ellie also has been carrying a one-sided torch for 20 years, a blindingly obvious detail that has eluded Jack for the same period. (The notion that anybody could fail to recognize such affection from somebody who looks like Lily James stretches credibility, but we must roll with it.)