On the Rocks: Piquant, with a twist

On the Rocks (2020) • View trailer

3.5 stars. Rated R, for profanity and sexual candor

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.20.20

Folks love to speculate about what Bill Murray’s character whispered to Scarlett Johansson’s neglected young wife, at the end of writer/director Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation.

 

What's the best, subtlest way to follow a philandering husband? In a noisy, bright red
Alfa Romeo, of course!

Or, digging even deeper, whether the two of them might have been able to establish some sort of long-term relationship, perhaps on a father/daughter level.

 

Coppola gives us an answer, of sorts, in On the Rocks, an Apple TV+ exclusive.

 

This time, Murray’s Felix is father to Rashida Jones’ Laura, although we don’t meet him right away. Coppola spends a lengthy prologue depicting Laura’s routine: devoted wife to husband Dean (Marlon Wayans); full-time mother to young daughters Maya and Theo; a practical, down-to-earth approach to things.

 

It’s easy to mock certain aspects of the New York City lifestyle, and Coppola occasionally succumbs: notably when Laura bundles Theo into a stroller each morning, and then walks Maya to a tony private school, where they join a queue of similarly posh parents waiting for the teacher to show up. (Laura wears Vans sneakers while carrying a Chanel bag.)

 

In a running gag that gets funnier with each fresh exposure, Jenny Slate is a hoot as Vanessa, a self-absorbed chatterbox waiting in the same line; she discusses her personal life in hilariously tedious detail, oblivious to the fact that Laura isn’t paying attention.

 

But this is mere background gloss. Coppola’s focus is more relationship-oriented, as was the case with Lost in Translation. Dean has been working longer hours of late, trying to get a start-up business off the ground; he’s therefore not around as much, to handle his share of home chores. Laura is tired — indeed, Jones often looks wan and exhausted — and feels taken for granted. Disconnected.

 

She’s an author — who made the mistake of selling a book she hasn’t even started — and is crippled by a severe case of writer’s block. No surprise, since she spends so much time picking up actual blocks, toys and clothes that the girls abandon throughout their apartment.

 

Coppola is astutely gifted at recognizing the little gestures, comments and expressions that characterize a given thought, moment or desire; Jones deftly conveys this wealth of nuance.

Klaus: No coal in this stocking!

Klaus (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG, for mild rude humor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.24.20

The holidays are weeks behind us, but — thanks to the recently announced Academy Award nominations — a little slice of Christmas warrants renewed attention.

Having failed in every effort to make a go of his forlornly empty local Post Office,
Jesper shares his woes with tiny Margú, who listens attentively ... despite not
understanding a single word.

Klaus garnered very limited theatrical release for a heartbeat in early November, just long enough to qualify for its well-deserved Oscar nomination; availability since then has been solely via Netflix, which certainly picked the right project for its debut animated feature film. Co-directors Sergio Pablos and Carlos Martínez López have delivered a marvelous seasonal bonbon that’s equal parts charming, snarky, sentimental and — ultimately — powerfully heartwarming.

Several earlier films — many of them not very good — have contemplated the origin of Santa Claus. (1985’s Santa Claus: The Movie is a particularly notorious stinker.) The approach generally involves a good-hearted fellow who enthusiastically accepts this noble responsibility; some films also acknowledge references to the fourth-century Greek Christian bishop now known as Saint Nicholas.

Pablos — assisted by co-writers Jim Mahoney and Zach Lewis — has taken an entirely different tack.

Postmaster General Johansen (voiced with regal bearing by Sam McMurray) has devoted his life to the service; he’s therefore dismayed that his ne’er-do-well son, Jesper (Jason Schwartzman), has distinguished himself as the Postal Academy’s worst student. Angered beyond words, Dad banishes Jesper to the frozen island of Smeerensburg, miles above the Arctic Circle.

The lad is given one year to deliver at least 6,000 letters, or he’ll be stuck there forever.

The Grinch: Hardly a bad banana with a greasy black peel

The Grinch (2018) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 11.9.18

Dr. Seuss purists who still shudder at the memory of 2000’s live-action Jim Carrey fiasco can rest easy. 

Once the Grinch decides to ruin Whoville's Christmas once and for all, he realizes that
stealth infiltration will be most successful if he's disguised as Santa Claus. Cue a
furious sewing session on an elaborate machine powered by his dog, Max.

Illumination — the animation studio that brought us the Minions — has done well by its 21st century revival of the modest 1957 picture book, which took a savvy poke at Christmas over-commercialization … eight years before Charlie Brown and his little tree.

The Grinch retains most of what was important about both that 69-page children’s classic, and the 1966 Chuck Jones adaptation that remains must-see TV every December. It’s evident from this film’s opening montage: a swooping camera shot that descends — accompanied by a gentle instrumental cover of the familiar “Fahoo Foraze” — from snow-covered mountains into the heart of Whoville.

The little town bustles with the expectation of Christmas, only a few days away. Decorations spring up on homes and in streets, thanks to elaborate, marvelously crazed, physics-challenged Seussian gadgets, doohickeys, widgets, doodads, gizmos, thingamajigs and thingamabobs: everything from wobbly garland hangers and improbable candy cane twirlers, to a Zamboni-esque contraption that scoops up snow drifts and excretes neatly stacked pyramids of perfectly formed snowballs, for young Whovians to throw at each other.

By which point, we viewers can’t help smiling.

Our appreciation redoubles as the narration begins, with scripters Michael LeSieur and Tommy Swerdlow retaining and expanding upon the original book’s text, the new material capturing the same Seussian rhyming scheme. 

Such enhancements feel reasonably organic: Little Cindy Lou Who (voiced by Cameron Seely) now is the daughter of a hard-working single mother, Donna Lou (Rashida Jones), who also rides herd over rambunctious infant twins; and the scowly-growly Grinch (Benedict Cumberbatch) must contend with his nearest neighbor, Bricklebaum (Kenan Thompson), an ebullient, joyous, irrepressible fellow who — insufferably! — believes that they’re good friends.

In so many ways, producer (and Illumination founder) Chris Meledandri, directors Scott Mosier and Yarrow Cheney, and their massive animation team have done their best to honor the source material. No surprise, since Illumination also delivered 2012’s delightful adaptation of Dr. Seuss’ The Lorax.

Celeste and Jesse Forever: Love lies bleeding

Celeste and Jesse Forever (2012) • View trailer
3.5 stars. Rating: R, for profanity, drug use and sexual candor
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.31.12

If art truly imitates life, then — based on the evidence of recent films such as this one, Lola Versus and Ruby Sparks — today’s self-absorbed thirtysomethings haven’t the faintest idea how to embrace and sustain a relationship.

Celeste (Rashida Jones) insists — to anybody willing to listen — that
she wants only the best for ex-hubbie Jesse (Andy Samberg). The
truth, though, is that their separation is strictly on her terms ... and
that little detail is about to get them both in trouble.

At first blush, however, the opposite seems true of the title characters in Celeste and Jesse Forever ... and that’s the clever twist in this arch and perceptive script from Rashida Jones and Will McCormack.

Celeste (Jones) and Jesse (Andy Samberg) are introduced on what seems an average day. They’re bubbly, effervescent and completely at ease with each other. They enjoy many of the same artful pursuits, while cheerfully tolerating each other’s varying tastes. They finish sentences together, dissect restaurant menus in mock German accents, and share little physical rituals, from air-hugs to hilariously vulgar acts with tubes of lip gloss.

In a word, they’re cute enough to be cloying.

Unfortunately, they aren’t a couple. At least ... not really.

Indeed, they’re long separated and in the final stages of divorce. But an inability to stay married hasn’t damaged their friendship, although this dichotomy falls outside the bounds of comfort for their respective best friends, Beth (Ari Graynor) and Tucker (Eric Christian Olsen), coincidentally engaged and soon to be wed.

We deduce that Celeste and Jesse once were perfectly matched, during the younger days that led to their own wedded bliss. But Celeste has matured beyond the giddy rush of carefree twentysomethingness; she has become the ambitious, workaholic co-owner of her own media consulting firm. She’s also a frequently quoted “trend analyzer” and the author of a book on same, provocatively titled Shitegeist.

The passive Jesse, alternatively, prefers the lackadaisical existence of an artist. He’ll blow off deadlines — even on projects for Celeste — in order to watch TV or get stoned with good buddy Skillz (McCormack), a casual pot dealer who is quite vexed by the medical marijuana clinics that are interfering with his business model.

When Beth confronts her best friend and wonders aloud, for the umpteenth time, why she and Jesse don’t get back together, Celeste rather waspishly replies that she can’t spend her life with a guy who won’t even get a checking account.

“The father of my child,” she insists, “will own a car.”

It’s a droll line, one of many in this frequently witty script. But Celeste’s facility for disdainful zingers is a defense mechanism: one that eventually fails to conceal the arrogance of a condescending control freak.

The Big Year: For the birders

The Big Year (2011) • View trailer for The Big Year
3.5 stars. Rating: PG, for mild profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 10.14.11


The combined billing of Steve Martin, Owen Wilson and Jack Black immediately suggests wild ’n’ crazy one-upsmanship, but — happily — The Big Year is rather sweet, leaning more toward mild whimsy than unrestrained slapstick.

The battle lines are drawn quickly, when three dedicated birders — from left,
Kenny (Owen Wilson), Stu (Steve Martin) and Brad (Jack Black) — decide to
try for a "Big Year," by spotting more bird species in 365 days than anybody
else. But will the result be worth the necessary sacrifices?

Credit director David Frankel (The Devil Wears Prada, Marley & Me), who clearly understands the importance of reasonably grounded characters. Then, too, Frankel also has a can’t-miss premise in Howard Franklin’s screenplay, which is “inspired by” Mark Obmascik’s 2004 book.

Obmascik was a journalist with the Denver Post when he wrote this more-or-less factual account of a rather bizarre “extreme sport” among birders, known as the North American Big Year. Participants spend 365 days chasing across the continental United States and Canada, compiling bird sightings and hoping to spot more species than anybody else. There is no prize, beyond the thrill of the hunt and the glory of peer acknowledgment.

Obmascik followed three top contenders in the 1998 challenge; these men, in turn, have been brought to life — more or less — by Martin, Wilson and Black.

The reigning Big Year champion, with an all-time high score of 732 sightings, is Kenny Bostick (Wilson), a contractor by trade who is looking to defend his title ... much to the dismay of his wife, Jessica (Rosamund Pike), who’s looking to start a family. Bostick is simultaneously the object of admiration and scorn among birders; they love to hear his stories, and they grudgingly admire his success.

But they also loathe his smug, know-it-all attitude. Everybody would love to see Kenny lose his crown; at the same time, there’s no question that he displays a level of single-minded dedication that deserves to be recognized.

Stu Preissler is a wealthy industrialist who, thus far, has let work interfere with family life and personal dreams. He has twice retired from the company he founded and built into a corporate titan; he hopes, this time, to walk away clean and make a serious bid for Big Year fame. Stu’s wife, Edith (JoBeth Williams), couldn’t be more supportive.

Last — and, in his own mind, least — is Brad Harris (Black), a nuclear plant software coder who hates his dead-end job and pines for some way to make a more significant mark. Brad looks back at a failed marriage and earlier failed careers; he lives at home with a mother who adores him (Dianne Wiest, as Brenda) and a father (Brian Dennehy, as Raymond) who regards him as a no-account doofus unable to see anything through.

Trouble is, Brad secretly fears that his father may be right.