Blitz: A powerful, WWII-era character study

Blitz (2024) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity, violence, occasional profanity and racism

Available via: Apple TV+

By Derrick Bang

Back in 1987, writer/director John Boorman’s semi-autobiographical Hope and Glory presented the London Blitz as something of a “boys’ own adventure,” focusing on children who were too young to understand what was happening, and viewed the chaos as oddly exciting.

 

Shortly after joining hundreds of similarly frightened Londoners seeking shelter from a
bomb raid, by fleeing into a subway, George (Elliott Heffernan) suddenly becomes
aware of something just as dangerous...

Writer/director Steve McQueen’s Blitz takes a decidedly different view.

The setting is London, September 1940; Hitler’s Germany has just begun the eight-month bombing campaign designed to terrify England into quick submission. (He sure got that wrong.) As one immediate result, Operation Pied Piper evacuated 800,000 children from urban centers to outlying rural communities, over the course of just three days.

 

McQueen’s film opens on a terrifying scene, as untrained and outmatched firefighters attempt to extinguish multiple blazes caused by the most recent attack. It’s noisy, chaotic and scary ... particular when the scene shifts skyward, as more bombs slowly spiral their way down. In a few brief minutes, McQueen and his filmmaking team sketch the horror of random death and destruction.

 

This prologue is replaced by brief random shots, concluding with a field of flowers, which slowly fades as piano music is heard. Working-class single mother Rita (Saoirse Ronan) readies her 9-year-old son, George (Elliott Heffernan), with a tattered suitcase. They live with her father, Gerald (Paul Weller), a doting man who radiates kindness and compassion; he’s the piano player. Fleeting flashbacks establish the tight bond between these three, and the deep love that Rita and George share.

 

She’s shattered. Ronan’s stricken expression is heartbreaking, her eyes clenched, in order to prevent tears.

 

George, on the other hand, is furious. He absolutely doesn’t want to leave, refuses to understand why he should, and feels betrayed when his mother resolutely hustles him to the train station.

 

“I hate you!” he snaps, pain in his face, as he breaks from her and runs into a train car. When she spies him through a window, as the train pulls away, he refuses to meet her gaze as she implores him to say a proper goodbye.

 

What follows is powered by two phenomenal performances, from Ronan and young Heffernan, both so solidly “in character” that we soon forget we’re watching actors; they become Rita and George.

 

As the train proceeds, McQueen hits us with the jolt we’ve been dreading ... because George is a mixed-race child. Two loutish boys in the seat behind lean over; one runs his fingers through George’s “unusual” hair. Heeding his grandfather’s advice about bullies, George stands up to them ... and they retreat in embarrassed silence.

 

“All mouth, and no trousers,” George scoffs, recalling his grandfather’s words.

 

(Love that expression!)

Young Woman and the Sea: Goes for the gold

Young Woman and the Sea (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG, for dramatic intensity and partial nudity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.2.24

Inspirational sports movies don’t come much better than this one.

 

Norwegian director Joachim Rønning has swum similar fact-based waters before, with 2012’s rugged and equally compelling Kon-Tiki. But this new film has a sparkling buoyance courtesy of its strongest asset: an effervescent and thoroughly persuasive performance by star Daisy Ridley. She’s radiant.

 

Dinners in the Eberle household often are a boisterous affair: from left, Henry Jr.
(Ethan Rouse), Henry (Kim Bodnia), Gertrude (Jeanette Hain), Trudy (Daisy Ridley)
and Meg (Tilda Cobham-Hervey).

Jeff Nathanson’s script, adapted from Glenn Stout’s 2009 non-fiction book of the same title, massages a few minor details but is rigorously authentic with respect to the significant events of Trudy Ederle’s life and career. Indeed, she became so astonishingly famous, for her time, that it’s incomprehensible that obscurity claimed her until only recently.

(In a recent article for the London Daily Telegraph, journalist Simon Briggs cheekily compares her to champion racehorse Seabiscuit, who in the late 1930s was just as celebrated as Ederle had been in the 1920s ... but similarly vanished from the historical record until being profiled in Laura Hillenbrand’s sensational 1999 best-seller, which in turn prompted a 2003 film.)

 

Rønning’s film opens in 1910, in a German neighborhood in Manhattan, New York. Five-year-old Trudy (Olive Abercrombie) unexpectedly survives a bout with measles: an illness that coincides with the PS General Slocum steamboat tragedy, which caught fire and sank in the East River, killing 1,021 people. Most were women and children, who remained on the boat because they couldn’t swim, and were terrified of the water.

 

(This steamboat disaster actually occurred in June 1904, which doesn’t quite fit Nathanson’s timeline ... but it serves a substantial dramatic purpose.)

 

Galvanized by the thought of so many needless deaths, Trudy’s severe yet caring mother, Gertrude (a warm and richly nuanced performance by Jeanette Hain), resolves that her children will learn how to swim. All of her children, which includes Trudy’s older sister Meg (Lilly Aspell), at a time when the mere thought of women — of any age — in the water, was considered laughable and/or scandalous.

 

This view is shared by the girls’ stubborn father, Henry (Kim Bodnia), a butcher with old-country sensibilities and a firm believer in rules, who abjectly refuses this plan. Trudy’s hilarious ploy to wear him down involves a popular period foxtrot song that becomes a mantra throughout this film (and an ear-worm that I’ve yet to shake, days later).

 

Matilda the Musical: Slightly off-key

Matilda the Musical (2022) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for exaggerated bullying and mild profanity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.6.23

Harold Gray’s popular newspaper comic strip, Little Orphan Annie, became a joyous stage musical back in 1977, with a subsequently enjoyable transition to the big screen in 1982: fueled both by engaging performances and a bevy of delightful musical numbers, including the never-to-be-forgotten power anthem, “Tomorrow.”

 

While her school mates cower in silent terror, Matilda (Alisa Weir, right) defiantly
stands up to imperious headmistress Miss Trunchbull (Emma Thompson).

Annie and Matilda feel like thematic cousins, with similar plot and character elements, although the latter also boasts author Roald Dahl’s darker, snarkier sense of humor. I’d love to say that his 1988 children’s book enjoys the same musical success … but no. 

Despite Alisha Weir’s terrific performance in the lead role, David Hindle and Christian Huband’s wildly imaginative production design, and choreographer Ellen Kane’s effervescent work with a bevy of talented young singers and dancers, this film version of the Royal Shakespeare Company’s 2010 musical adaptation is an occasionally awkward beast. You’ll find very few hummable tunes here, most of which fall into the narrative “patter song” category; several are shoved rather clumsily into the storyline.

 

Even so, Dennis Kelly’s screenplay is rigorously faithful to the book, and its many fans will delight in all of the essential plot elements. (Kelly and Tim Minchin wrote the 2010 stage version.)

 

Matilda Wormwood (Weir) is born to parents who never, ever wanted a daughter. Her mother (Andrea Riseborough) and father (Stephen Graham) are outrageously self-centered burlesques, who banish the little girl to an attic bedroom, and miss no opportunity for emotional abuse.

 

Graham and Riseborough are hilariously grotesque in these way-over-the-top roles: vulgar, uncouth and forever garbed in costume designer Rob Howell’s opulently awful outfits. Mr. and Mrs. Wormwood believe themselves superior to the rest of the world, when in fact they’re the worst sort of ignorant buffoons.

 

Ah, but Matilda is amazingly, preternaturally smart, devouring books such as Great Expectations and Jane Eyre from a very young age, and displaying a facility for STEM topics that would make university teachers swoon. None of this means a thing to her parents, who refuse to acknowledge their daughter’s talents. 

 

Matilda’s kinder, gentler nature notwithstanding, she’s not above exacting revenge: her blustering father the most frequent target. Weir’s impishly crafty expression, at such moments, is delicious.

 

Relief comes during Matilda’s frequent visits with mobile library lady Mrs. Phelps (Sindhu Vee), whom the girl entrances with the slowly developing fantasy saga of two circus performers, swooningly in love, and forced to perform The World’s Most Dangerous Act. This enchanting bit of kid-level imagination — Matilda’s colorful re-invention of her own life — becomes an ongoing story within the story, with Mrs. Phelps hanging onto each dire setback.

Greyhound: A suspenseful sprint

Greyhound (2020) • View trailer 

Four stars. Rated PG-13, for war-related action, dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity

By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.14.20

It’s a shame grim, real-world events kept this film from traditional theatrical release, because it would’ve been a breath-held, edge-of-the-seat nail-biter.

Krause (Tom Hanks) constantly worries that his inexperience as a wartime
 commander may not be up to the challenge of safeguarding the 37 convoy ships
 under his care.

Although certainly just as suspenseful when viewed at home — via its sole release on Apple TV — director Aaron Schneider’s Greyhound definitely isn’t as intense. Agitated viewers might even hit “pause” on occasion, to quell racing hearts, and you certainly can’t get such relief in a movie theater (which is as it should be).

 

Schneider’s approach is a clever blend of old-school “dire odds” war drama — in the mold of 1961’s The Guns of Navarone and 1968’s Where Eagles Dare — augmented by up-to-the-minute CGI effects. The pacing is taut; Schneider and editors Mark Czyzewski and Sidney Wolinsky don’t waste a second of this crisp 91-minute thriller, which gets the job done and then gets off the stage.

 

Schneider, a veteran cinematographer-turned-director, also has an unerring sense of camera placement, and the careful use of tight close-ups to heighten the drama. Star Tom Hanks has long been adept at taking advantage of such moments; he’s far better than most, at the nuance of wordless concern, flashes of doubt, and grim resolve.

 

Hanks also chooses his projects with care; he’s even more prudent with the ones he elects to script. This is only his third feature writing credit — after 1996’s That Thing You Do and 2011’s Larry Crowne — and his first adaptation. Greyhound is based on popular nautical author C.S. Forester’s 1955 naval thriller, The Good Shepherd, and Hanks’ approach is quite faithful (if unable to match, in such condensed form, the character depth found within the 322-page novel).

 

At the risk of stating the obvious, Forester’s title is far superior — and symbolically apt — than Greyhound. I cannot imagine what Hanks and Sony were thinking.

 

The year is early 1942, a few months after the United States has officially entered World War II. Allied UK forces and the Soviet Union are in constant need of supplies, which must be delivered by sea convoys via the Atlantic Ocean. But the route is patrolled constantly by German U-boats; the most dangerous region is the mid-Atlantic gap dubbed the “black pit,” where ships are out of range of protective air cover.

 

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales — Droll skullduggery

Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales (2017) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for considerable fantasy violence and mild suggestive content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.26.17

Assuming Disney is telling the truth — that this truly is the final Pirates of the Caribbean entry — the franchise is leaving the stage on a strong note. 

Carina (Kaya Scodelario) tries to maintain her composure, as Capt. Jack Sparrow (Johnny
Depp, far left) hints at dire results if she refuses to answer his questions, while Marty
(Martin Klebba, center left) and Scrum (Stephen Graham) eagerly anticipate whatever
comes next.

Dead Men Tell No Tales suffers from a bit of bloat, but it’s by no means a showpiece of wretched excess akin to the previous two installments. Scripters Jeff Nathanson and Terry Rossio return to the better balanced blend of humor, chills and excitement that characterized the first film, way back in 2003. More crucially, co-directors Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg — who collaborated on 2012’s ocean-bound Kon-Tiki — maintain a brisk pace while (very important) keeping Johnny Depp’s self-indulgent mugging to a manageable degree.

This new film references earlier chapters while delivering a satisfying sense of closure, and — best of all — a well-conceived and truly terrifying villain, given a significant fright-factor by co-star Javier Bardem. Having set his own standard for disturbing evil in No Country for Old Men, Skyfall and The Counselor, here Bardem oozes wrathful malevolence at a level likely to terrify some of the younger viewers certain to drag their parents into the theater.

Although this film is laden with violence, Rønning and Sandberg (mostly) keep the carnage to a family-friendly level; there’s no gore and very little blood, with the slicing and dicing limited to quick sword thrusts. Plenty of nameless sailors, soldiers and pirates meet unhappy ends, but somehow the core characters — and the half dozen or so supporting players who’ve become familiar — always seem to duck at the right moment.

A prologue finds young Henry Turner (Lewis McGowan) rowing out to a certain spot in the moonlit ocean, where he times the reappearance of the ill-fated Flying Dutchman, the legendary ghost ship doomed to sail the seas forever. Unhappily, its crew includes Henry’s father, Will: a sad fate for the stalwart character Orlando Bloom played so well in the first three films.

Fear not, Henry tells his father; I’ll find Poseidon’s fabled magical trident, rumored to have the power to eradicate all ocean-bound curses.

Flash-forward a number of years, and Henry (now played by Brenton Thwaites) has become a ship’s mate with the British Royal Navy, stationed in the Caribbean colonial town of St. Martin. Despite his warning — Henry having read up on such things — his ship’s captain ventures into the dread Devil’s Triangle, and a fateful encounter with the imposing Silent Mary, the ghostly galleon commanded by the terrifying Capt. Salazar (Bardem) and his cadaverous crew.

Henry is the only survivor, having been spared by Salazar in order to “tell the tale.” Alas, back in St. Martin, Henry is branded a mutinous coward and scheduled to hang.