80 for Brady: Score!

80 for Brady (2023) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for suggestive references, drug content and brief profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 2.3.23 

This is a nice surprise.

 

Although director Kyle Marvin’s cheerful romp is the silly little comedy one would expect from its premise and publicity, it’s also a delightful showcase for its Hollywood veterans.

 

Four rabid football fans "of a certain age" — from left, Trish (Jane Fonda), Betty
(Sally Field), Lou (Lily Tomlin) and Maura (Rita Moreno) — can't believe they've actually
made it to the Super Bowl.

Scripters Emily Halpern and Sarah Haskins shrewdly play to their stars’ strengths, and you’ll likely be surprised by the degree to which you become invested in this story’s outcome.

Add the fact that these events are set against the historic Super Bowl LI, and the result is a “silly comedy” that builds to an exhilarating climax.

 

The setting is Massachusetts in 2017, where longtime friends Lou (Lily Tomlin), Trish (Jane Fonda), Maura (Rita Moreno) and Betty (Sally Field) gather in front of the TV every game day to don team jerseys and watch their beloved Patriots … and, most particularly, quarterback Tom Brady. 

 

This routine has continued for years, ever since getting involved with football helped Lou defeat a bout with cancer. In a nod to sports voodoo — as with baseball players who never change their socks once a streak is established — these four gals diligently mimic their actions prior to a long-ago upset victory: where they were sitting or standing, and what they were saying and doing, down to spilling a bowl of potato chips at a precise moment.

 

Lou is the gutsy ringleader, who insists on the replication of all these details. Trish is glam and feisty; Maura is adventurous and tireless. Betty is smart and down-to-earth: the gang’s pragmatic conscience.

 

Each woman comes with a bit of emotional baggage. Maura hasn’t recovered from the loss of her husband, and — rather than live alone in their home — she has sorta-kinda moved into an assisted living facility, in order to be surrounded by other people.

 

Trish falls in love too quickly, and repeatedly gets her heart broken; Lou constantly worries that her cancer might recur. The precise and practical Betty, although a whiz with math and stats, can’t figure out what to do with her hapless husband (Bob Balaban, as Mark), whose absent-mindedness has become a trial. 

 

Once the game concludes, on this particular afternoon, Lou impulsively decides that they all should attend the upcoming Super Bowl, at Houston’s NRG Stadium.

 

But that’s an impossible proposition. They all live (albeit comfortably) on fixed incomes; obtaining tickets is prohibitively expensive, to say nothing of travel and lodging. 

Spider-Men: Into the Spider-Verse — A needlessly tangled web

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG for frantic animated action violence
By Derrick Bang

In today’s pop-culture entertainment world, you can’t have too much of a good thing.

When Marvel’s initial Amazing Spider-Man comic book becomes a smash success, the next move is obvious: Start publishing another dozen (or two) Spider-Man titles. If this cuts into the sales of the character’s flagship title, no matter; the combined overall sales are bound to increase.

Having barely gotten a sense of the whole web-slinging concept, young Miles discovers
that swinging between city buildings is a lot harder than it looks.

And if Spider-Man himself is a major part of the allure, then the next move is equally obvious: Concoct a storyline that creates more Spider-heroes. Thanks to one of sci-fi’s most overworked clichés — the notion of multiple parallel universes, where things are familiar but (tellingly) not quite the same — that’s a snap.

On top of which, the beauty of alternate realities is that writers can do something drastic — such as kill off a beloved character — without damaging continuity in our “core” reality.

The ultimate means of eating one’s cake, and having it too.

But care must be taken. If the original franchise — and character(s) — are diluted too much, everybody loses interest in the whole enterprise.

In fairness, directors Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey and Rodney Rothman have done a mostly commendable job with the animated Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse. Rothman and co-scripter Phil Lord deftly navigate the physics-challenged complexities of the alternate universe premise, while granting a solid origin story to a younger, equally captivating, but woefully inexperienced Spider-Man.

That would be Miles Morales (voiced by Shameik Moore), an Afro-Latino teenager who debuted in a complicated 2011 Marvel Comics storyline, and has remained popular enough to earn his own ongoing series.

But he’s not the character with whom this fast-paced, audaciously twisty saga begins. We’re instead (re)introduced to good ol’ Peter Parker, our one and only Spider-Man, who extols his uniqueness during a narrated prologue that cleverly references previous comic book adventures, along with iconic scenes from the live-action films that began in 2002 (most notably that sexy upside-down smooch with Mary Jane).

Poor Peter has his hands full, because the nefarious Wilson Fisk — better known as the Kingpin (Liev Schreiber) — has teamed up with a theoretical physicist, in order to access the “multiverse” for a deeply personal reason. But Peter is enough of a scientist himself, to know that Fisk’s reality-bending device will have drastic consequences, and therefore must be destroyed.

Admission: Not quite top marks

Admission (2013) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rating: PG-13, for occasional profanity and mild sexual candor
By Derrick Bang

Paul Weitz obviously courts variety; his writing and directing résumé includes everything from dumb comedy (American Pie, Little Fockers) and impudent horror (Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant) to the heartfelt relationship dramedy of About a Boy.

Admissions officer Portia (Tina Fey) can't understand why John (Paul Rudd, right) is so
enthusiastic about getting Jeremiah (Nat Wolff) into Princeton; as far as she can tell,
this young man — although certainly personable — just isn't university material, let
alone Princeton material. But she's about to learn a detail that will seriously
compromise her objectivity.

His newest film, Admission, belongs in the latter’s company; its frequently whimsical, romantic-comedy trappings are blended with some sharp social commentary about the lengths to which parents and students will go, to ensure entry to an appropriately prestigious university.

That’s a delicate balance to maintain, and for the most part scripter Karen Croner succeeds; we’re never quite sure whether it’s appropriate to root for what the central characters seem to want, in this adaptation of Jean Hanff Korelitz’s perceptive novel. Even well-motivated actions have unfortunate consequences, and one’s past has a way of revealing that an apparently “comfortable” life may be little more than a façade.

Admission also is a big-screen starring vehicle for Tiny Fey, who needs a solid next step in a career that has been dominated, until recently, by her all-consuming involvement with television’s 30 Rock. Fey is smart, savvy and sharp: an all-around talent who hasn’t always been served well by her occasional trips to the big screen. She was ill-used in trivial fluff such as Date Night and The Invention of Lying, and her more successful presence in Baby Mama had just as much to do with co-star (and frequent cohort) Amy Poehler.

In a nutshell, then, Fey could use a few starring roles that grant her characters with the all-essential blend of intelligence, comic impulsiveness and vulnerability that has made 30 Rock’s Liz Lemon such a delight for so many years. Weitz and Croner come close to granting her the necessary formula in Admission, although Fey’s character here is just a bit too much the helpless victim for my taste. But that’s a personal judgment call, and likely not enough of an issue to bother most viewers.

Portia Nathan (Fey) is an admissions officer at Princeton University, one of the dozen or so “gatekeepers” who evaluate thousands of applicants every spring, and then decide which anxious high school seniors will win entry within these Ivy League walls.

Korelitz is a former part-time application reader for Princeton, so if this aspect of Weitz’s film has the queasy, casually cruel tone of reality, it’s no accident. Korelitz knows the territory, and Croner has done her best to replicate the impossible necessity of such a job: of the need to choose between this gymnast with multiple extracurricular activities, or that impassioned scholar with an aptitude for different languages.

Korelitz’s book employs a narrative device that allows us to eavesdrop on various application essays; Weitz and Croner replicate that gimmick here by having Portia imagine these various young hopefuls standing in front of her, as they eloquently argue their own merits ... only to drop through a hidden trap door and vanish forever, as she regretfully discards yet another fat orange folder.