Pinball: The Man Who Saved the Game — Terrific bumper action!

Pinbal: The Man Who Saved the Game (2023) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Not rated, with PG-level sexual banter and mild profanity

Available via: Amazon Prime and other streaming platforms

By Derrick Bang

Who could have guessed that two fact-based films about gaming — Tetris and this one — would be released simultaneously?

 

Even less likely: Both are quite entertaining, in entirely different ways.

 

While Ellen (Crystal Reed) watches with delight, Roger (Mike Faist) gives her son,
Seth (Christopher Convery), some handy pinball tips.

Brothers Austin and Meredith Bragg — in an impressive writing/directing feature debut — have delivered a charming little film that’s practically its own category: equal parts docudrama, rom-com and (at times) mockumentary. 

However their film ultimately gets pigeon-holed, there’s no denying the gently whimsical touch that deftly balances established history, a charming romantic core, and droll meta touches that impishly poke fun at the making of this film, (supposedly) while it’s being made.

 

No less than New Yorker critic Richard Brody insists that “it’s better than all ten of the [2022] Best Picture nominees.”

 

I can’t go quite that far, but his enthusiasm is understandable.

 

The Brothers Bragg open their film as Roger C. Sharpe (Dennis Boutsikaris), circa today, is prepped in a studio chair, awaiting interview questions from unseen filmmakers. The topic: how he — Sharpe — literally “saved” pinball in New York City.

 

Sharpe demurs, insisting that he’s no more than a “footnote.” Yet he remains willing to tell the story, but only — sharp insistence, accompanied by Boutsikaris’ steely gaze — on his terms.

 

At which point we roll back to 1971, when a much younger Roger (now endearingly played by Mike Faist), while a student at the University of Wisconsin, has his first encounter with a true “pinball wizard.” Immediately intrigued by the possibility of prolonging a game for more than a quick couple of minutes, Roger becomes obsessed.

 

At which point the older Sharpe suddenly reappears, essentially looking over his younger self’s shoulder, in order to supply essential back-story. Boutsikaris continues to serve as on-camera narrator while the film continues: an initially disorienting device that quickly becomes an essential part of the story (thanks in no small part to Boutsikaris’ quiet sincerity).

 

Sharpe also occasionally interrupts on-screen events, insisting that the filmmakers are taking too much dramatic license in an effort to insert a “Hollywood touch.” Such objections noted, a given scene is re-staged to be more historically accurate.

 

(Wisely, the Brothers Bragg employ this gimmick sparingly.)

 

A few years pass. Roger graduates, moves to New York City, gets married, lands a job as an advertising copywriter, gets divorced — a lucky escape, given available evidence — loses his job, and loses most of his furnishings (such accoutrements having been supplied by his former wife’s family’s furniture store). Sleeping on a mattress on the floor, forced to improvise rough-and-ready plank bookshelves, Roger impulsively decides to become a journalist.

Jersey Boys: Ain't that a shame

Jersey Boys (2014) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated R, for profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.20.14

The good news:

Considering this play’s origins as a minimalist jukebox musical, director Clint Eastwood and scripters Marshall Brickman and Rick Elice have “opened it up” impressively for the big screen.

At the last possible second, the members of The Four Seasons — from left, Tommy
(Vincent Piazza), Bob (Erich Bergen), Frankie (John Lloyd Young) and Nick (Michael
Lomenda) — attempt to inspire their record producer by singing a new song, over the
phone, prior to a studio session that could make or break their careers.

It can’t hurt, of course, that Brickman and Elice were intimately acquainted with the material, having written the musical book for the 2005 Broadway hit that went home with four Tony Awards, including Best Musical.

The story charts the unlikely rise, success and lamentable self-destruction of the 1960s pop/rock group, The Four Seasons, perhaps better known these days as the combo fronted by Frankie Valli. Eastwood’s approach may be viewed with surprise by fans of the stage production; this cinematic adaptation of Jersey Boys is less a musical per se, and more a drama about musicians.

With the exception of a few numbers performed mostly intact for climactic emphasis, we’re granted little more than a flavor of the combo’s many hits: just enough to remind older viewers how many chart-toppers the group produced, while perhaps impressing younger viewers who don’t realize how far back some of these tunes actually go.

Additionally, Brickman and Elice have re-structured the narrative, essentially abandoning the more obvious elements of the “seasonal” presentation — spring, summer, fall and finally winter, each segment narrated by a different member of the combo — that mirrored the group’s genesis and eventual break-up. Little of that gimmick remains, aside from a stray reference to Vivaldi.

By the same token, although these individuals still break the fourth wall to tell this story by addressing us directly, their narrative input is intermixed here, rather than divided by person, according to season.

And, quite intriguingly, Valli — who wrapped up the story during the stage play’s winter segment — gets no narration here. We therefore never get a sense of his inner thoughts or motivations, as is the case with his three comrades; to a degree, then, our impression of Valli is shaped mostly by how others see him.

That’s an intriguing artistic choice, and it places a heavier burden on John Lloyd Young, who carries the bulk of the story’s emotional weight as Valli: a kid who comes into this world as Frankie Castelluccio, and seems destined to become just another mob-affiliated New Jersey punk.