Showing posts with label Lidya Jewett. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lidya Jewett. Show all posts

Friday, September 17, 2021

Nightbooks: A shivery read

Nightbooks (2021) • View trailer
3.5 stars (out of five). Rated TV-PG, for suspenseful intensity
Available via: Netflix

This is a delightful bit of family-friendly frights.

 

Director David Yarovesky’s modest chiller is adapted from J.A. White’s 2018 young adult novel of the same title, which is a modern — and spooky — riff on the ancient saga of Scheherazade (who, you’ll recall, kept herself alive by starting a story at the end of each of 1,001 Arabian nights, concluding it the following evening, and then starting another).

 

While exploring their captor's massive library, Alex (Winslow Fegley) and Yasmin
(Lidya Jewett) find scribbled notations on the pages of one book: perhaps clues
on how to escape?


Nightbooks is co-produced by Sam Raimi, who made his rep with the extremely gory Evil Dead series, but this little film stays within its TV-PG rating. That said, the final 20 minutes get rather intense, and may be too much for the youngest viewers.

Mikki Daughtry and Tobias Iaconis’ script hews closely to White’s novel, including the stories-within-the-story element, and the essential moral: that it’s always important to be true to one’s self.

 

Young Alex (Winslow Fegley, remembered from last year’s Timmy Failure: Mistakes Were Made) has long loved scary stuff. His bedroom is a shrine to pop-culture movies and TV shows, and his doting parents (Jess Brown and Mathieu Bourassa) have cheerfully indulged this passion, even to the point of occasionally dressing up and transforming their apartment into a haunted house.

 

Alex — a budding Stephen King — also has written many of his own scary stories, carefully preserved in a stack of Nightbooks.

 

But, as the story begins, Alex has just hit a crisis. Tired of being teased at school for the unusual way he dresses, humiliated by having been tagged with the nickname Creepshow, he rashly decides to destroy his life’s work. He gathers up his Nightbooks, runs to the elevator and punches the button for the basement, intending to hurl his notebooks into the boiler room furnace.

 

The elevator stops elsewhere, opening onto a mysterious, spookily illuminated hallway. He’s drawn to apartment 4B; once inside, the door vanishes behind him.

 

This is the home of Natacha (Krysten Ritter), a sinister witch with a fondness for runway glam outfits. (Costume designer Autumn Steed had a good time.) She’s accompanied by Lenore, a creepy, hairless Sphinx cat with the ability to turn invisible. Having somehow learned of Alex’s talent for spinning terror tales, Natacha commands him to tell her a story.

 

She further warns that if his story isn’t scary enough, he’ll meet a dire fate … typified by the disturbingly life-like, doll-size figurines of children placed on a shelf.

 

And so, (fortunately) armed with his Nightbooks, Alex tells a story — “The Playground” — which we watch in animator Mary Yang’s deliberately retro, low-tech style.

 

The telling doesn’t unfold smoothly; Natacha keeps interrupting, editing Alex’s narrative elements, or simply insisting “That isn’t scary.” These exchanges are quite droll, thanks to Ritter’s exaggerated haughtiness and Fegley’s persuasive blend of confusion and terror.

 

Alex succeeds, and survives the night.

Friday, July 17, 2020

Feel the Beat: Dance 7, Script 3

Feel the Beat (2020) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated TV-G, and suitable for all ages

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.17.20

For the most part, this is a Hallmark TV movie with delusions of grandeur, having debuted instead on Netflix.

When April (Sofia Carson, left) agrees to coach her small town's young dancers, the
girls in question don't realize they're about to face a prima donna drill sergeant tackling
this challenge for her own selfish reasons.
It’s saved from sentimentality overload solely due to its feisty kid supporting cast, and a few nice touches in the otherwise formulaic and wholly predictable script from Michael Armbruster and Shawn Ku.

Director Elissa Down brings nothing to the party; her approach is unremarkably bland from the first frame to the last. Even during the rare moments of something approaching dramatic conflict, the atmosphere is relentlessly bubbly and cheerful.

Many of the adults here don’t feel like real people; they’re closer to TV sitcom constructs. Notable exceptions include the always dependable Enrico Colantoni, best remembered as Veronica Mars’ gumshoe father, and similarly cast here as our protagonist’s father; and Brandon Kyle Goodman, who displays solid comic timing as a flamboyant Broadway costume designer.

The kids, happily, are a different story. They’re a lively mix of sizes, appearances and attitudes, ranging from 7 to 13 years of age; they credibly inhabit characters who, if not granted much depth, are sketched deftly enough to be distinctive; we have no trouble telling them apart, and each gets numerous opportunities to shine.

Star Sofia Carson, an appealing Disney Channel discovery looking to expand her horizons, delivers what little the script demands of her; she can’t be blamed for a director and writers who don’t show much imagination. (I’ve long felt that scripts which don’t give their characters last names — as is the case here — tend to lack depth.)

The story begins in New York, where talented but self-centered dancer April (Carson) rudely steals a cab en route to an audition; naturally, the person left behind turns out to be the director for whom she’s auditioning. Said individual, justifiably furious, has the power to blackball April. And uses it.

Days later, with no other options, April returns to her small Wisconsin hometown of New Hope, with her metaphorical tail between her legs. Her sympathetic father says all the right things, with the mildly acerbic edge that Colantoni delivers with such eye-twinkling élan.