Mean Girls: Spitefully high-spirited

Mean Girls (2024) • View trailer

Four stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for sexual candor, profanity and bad teen behavior

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 1.12.24

Confucius said it best, so long ago:

 

“Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

 

While Cady (Angourie Rice, far right) watches apprehensively, her school's "mean girls"
— from left, Karen (Avantika), Regina (Reneé Rapp) and Gretchen (Bebe Wood) —
reveal the "Burn Book," in which they've written all manner of nasty comments about
fellow students.

Unlikely as it seems, this story has become even more relevant today, than it was when scripter Tina Fey’s clever adaptation of Rosalind Wiseman’s 2002 parental guide — Queen Bees and Wannabes — became a popular 2004 film for Lindsay Lohan.

Although it seemed an unlikely choice to transition into a musical, Mean Girls became a Broadway hit upon opening in 2018; Fey wrote the show’s book, accompanied by Jeff Richmond (music) and Nell Benjamin (lyrics). Touring productions continue to this day, and a film adaptation was inevitable; directors Samantha Jayne and Arturo Perez Jr. — with a script once again by Fey — have delivered a thoroughly entertaining two hours of lively razzle-dazzle.

 

(And I have to wonder: Was Fey prescient, two decades back? Did she somehow know that the dark side of social media would make this story fresh again?)

 

All of the original film’s essential plot beats have been retained; many have been re-tooled as energetic production numbers by choreographer Kyle Hanagami.

 

The first is a seemingly spontaneous, home-made garage video by Janis ’Imi’iki (Auli’I Cravalho) and Damian Hubbard (Jaquel Spivey, a force of nature), who function throughout this saga as both characters and a Greek chorus. This opening number, “A Cautionary Tale,” sets the stage for the events to follow. (Pay close attention; their promised details will prove accurate.)

 

The scene then shifts to Kenya, where 16-year-old Cady Heron (Angourie Rice) — despite having thoroughly enjoyed studying animals and stars in the wild, with her mother (Jenna Fischer) — laments her inability to enjoy a “normal” teenage experience. Mom relents, moves them to Evanston, Ill., and Cady eagerly begins her first day at North Shore High School...

 

...and hasn’t the slightest notion how to fit in.

 

A droll montage introduces her various teachers and subjects, most importantly the AP math class taught by Ms. Norbury (Fey, reprising her role from the 2004 film). Cady winds up sitting behind Aaron Samuels (Christopher Briney), and is instantly smitten.

 

Lunchtime is the worst, as Cady slowly walks down the center aisle, silently shunned by the cliques at each table. Janis and Damian — outcasts themselves, and proud of it — take pity and rescue her from social oblivion.

 

Then the air is sucked out of the cafeteria, as queen bee-yatch Regina (Reneé Rapp, deliciously haughty) makes her entrance, joining her already seated posse, Gretchen (Bebe Wood) and Karen (Avantika). They’re “The Plastics,” over-the-top glamour girls with nothing but disdain for the common herd. Regina spots Cady, and — much to everybody’s surprise — invites the new girl to their table.

 

A Haunting in Venice: Gothic nonsense

A Haunting in Venice (2023) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for strong violence and dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.15.23

Agatha Christie must be spinning in her grave.

 

I can’t fault Kenneth Branagh for wanting to play her famed Belgian detective again; it’s a great role, and Branagh fills Hercule Poirot’s patent leather shoes with a delightful blend of aristocratic condescension and shrewd, sharp-eyed deductive analysis. It’s always fun to watch Poirot’s narrow gaze scrutinize the comparative heights of his twin breakfast soft-boiled eggs.

 

Hercule Poirot (Kenneth Branagh) initially has no interest in the challenge offered by
longtime friend Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey). But his curiosity eventually is piqued, and
he agrees to tag along for what becomes a most unusual evening.

But must Branagh continue to work with scripter Michael Green?

Green’s repeated efforts to “improve upon” Christie’s meticulously crafted novels ran 2017’s Murder on the Orient Express off the rails, and his 2022 disembowelment of Death on the Nile went under not only for the third time, but also the fourth and fifth.

 

This time out, Green doesn’t even try to adapt Christie’s Hallowe’en Party. The only thing this film has in common with her 1969 novel is the presence of one character, and he treats her in a manner that will enrage the celebrated author’s fans.

 

Why adapt a famous author’s book, if you’re just going to ruin it?

 

Matters aren’t helped by the fact that Branagh — who also directs — and cinematographer Haris Zambarloukos allowed their Gothic sensibilities to run amuck. Branagh’s third Poirot outing is a classic example of style over substance: cockeyed camera angels, darkened hallways, smash-cut close-ups of worried expressions, Hildur Guönadóttir’s shrieking score, and the repeated squawking distraction of a cockatoo that swoops into numerous scenes for no good reason … all of which do nothing to conceal Green’s clumsy plot.

 

The setting is Venice in 1947, as Italy struggles to rebuild itself. Ten years have passed since the events in Death on the Nile, a decade has left Poirot disheartened by the fact that another generation found itself in a war even worse, in some respects, than the “Great War” he endured during his younger days. Poirot has retired and retreated behind the gates of a Venetian appartamento; he employs a bodyguard, Vitale (Riccardo Scamarcio), to dissuade anybody wishing to engage his detective services.

 

Even so, Poirot tolerates a visit from longtime associate Ariadne Oliver (Tina Fey), a mystery novelist who has based her series character on him. She offers a puzzle: a supposed medium, Joyce Reynolds (Michelle Yeoh), whose “performance” at a recent séance left her baffled. Ariadne, inclined to accept the notion of communication with the dead, believes that if Mrs. Reynolds can convince Poirot that she’s the “real deal,” then the result will be a certain best-seller about “the woman who stumped Hercule Poirot.”

 

(It must be mentioned that, in Christie’s canon, Ariadne is a friend who helps Poirot in seven novels, and would never, ever bait him so callously. But we move on…)

 

Clearly stung by the notion that he could be fooled by such an obvious charlatan, Poirot accepts the challenge. The setting for the next séance proves foreboding: the crumbling palazzo owned by retired opera singer Rowena Drake (Kelly Reilly). The place is believed haunted by the ghosts of young orphans who met a terrible fate therein, decades earlier.

 

Worse yet, it’s also where Rowena’s beloved daughter Alicia died one year ago, having apparently jumped from her upstairs bedroom window and drowned in the canal below.

 

It also happens to be Halloween. A particularly stormy and wind-swept Halloween. What could be better?

Maggie Moore(s): Dire doings writ dark

Maggie Moore(s) (2023) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for violence, drug use, fleeting nudity, sexual candor and relentless profanity

Available via: Amazon Prime and other streaming services

By Derrick Bang

Director John Slattery and writer Paul Bernbaum are in Coen Brothers territory — most particularly 1996’s Fargo — with this macabre little crime thriller.

 

Rita (Tina Fey) and Sanders (Jon Hamm) would have a hard time connecting under
the best of circumstances; it's even more difficult in the middle of a murder investigation.

The tone veers wildly between larkish and horrifying, the occasional dollops of humor in a dark-dark-dark vein. The story is anchored by star Jon Hamm, note-perfect as an amiable local sheriff trying to focus on his job, but still emotionally reeling from his wife’s untimely death a year ago.

The setting is contemporary, in a small New Mexico desert community. (Filming took place in and around Albuquerque.) A prologue finds Sanders and his deputy, Reddy (Nick Mohammed, immediately recognized from TV’s Ted Lasso), examining the body of a woman killed in a motel parking lot. When ID reveals her name — Maggie Moore — Sanders and Reddy exchange a perplexed look.

 

We then flash back 10 days, and meet Jay Moore (Micah Stock) a hapless schnook who runs a Subway-style chain eatery called Castle Subs, and is unlucky enough to have a wife (Maggie) whose expensive tastes are bleeding him white. As a means of staving off creditors, he has been getting rancid, long-expired meats and cheeses from Liberty Bell Foods, a dodgy outfit run by local slimeball Tommy T (Derek Basco, appropriately smarmy), in exchange for child pornography (!).

 

Jay and Maggie’s frequent screaming matches have been overheard by their next-door neighbor, Rita Grace (Tina Fey).

 

When Jay decides that killing his wife would be the best solution to his financial woes, Tommy T sends him to Kosco (Happy Anderson), a hulking mute whose portion of all conversations are written on yellow legal paper, which he immediately shreds before moving on to his next reply.

 

We don’t see what happens next, but — a day or two later — Reddy discovers a burned-out car with a body inside: charred to little more than a skeleton. When she’s identified as Maggie Moore, Sanders and Reddy naturally have a pointed chat with Jay, whose dismay seems genuine enough.

 

Sanders subsequently learns of the marital strife from Rita, and their mildly flirty banter suggests possibilities. Hamm and Fey are terrific together; her lively sense of smart-assed mischief is well balanced by his world-weary amusement. This role is solidly in Hamm’s wheelhouse, and just as entertaining as his handling of the sardonic title role in last year’s Confess, Fletch. He excels at the deadpan I-don’t-believe-a-word-you’re-saying expression.

Soul: It has serious chops!

Soul (2020) • View trailer

Five stars. Rated PG, for mild thematic elements

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.31.20

This isn’t the first time I’ve observed that some of the sharpest, wittiest and most perceptive scripts belong to animated films.

 

An impressive percentage of them come from Pixar.

 

Joe Gardner's soul, right, tirelessly tries to find something that might inspire the cynical,
world-weary — and yet oddly childlike — Soul 22.

Pete Docter has been one of Hollywood’s most innovative writer/directors for well over a decade; he’s also one of the most savvy collaborators. Although he shared scripting credits on WALL•E, Up and Inside Out, all three possess an inventive point of view — a shrewd analysis of the human condition — that bespeaks Docter’s guiding influence.

 

This is even more obvious, given that he directed — and won well-deserved Academy Awards — for the latter two.

 

I figured Inside Out would remain his career masterpiece. I should’ve known better.

 

Soul — directed and co-written by Docter, with scripting assistance from Mike Jones and Kemp Powers — is another animated tour de force that ingeniously blends humor, pathos and social commentary with a wildly imaginative take on what makes us who we are.

 

Whereas Inside Out cheekily proposed how our workaday behavior varies according to the influence of (primarily) joy, sadness, fear and anger, Soul — available (ahem) solely via Disney+ — offers a fascinating theory for how our personalities are shaped, and the unalterable degree to which that influences who and what we become.

 

But the film doesn’t initially seem that way, and that’s another clever touch: An equally strong secondary story beats at its heart.

 

Joe Gardner (voiced by Jamie Foxx), a gifted pianist with wicked jazz chops, has tirelessly gigged in an effort to get the one big break that might ignite a career. He’s a constant disappointment to his mother (Libba Gardner), who wishes he’d abandon such dreams and be content as a middle-school music teacher … particularly since he’s just been offered full-time employment.

 

Ah, but Joe lucks into an audition for world-renowned sax legend Dorothea Williams (Angela Bassett) … and nails it. She makes him a member of her quartet, currently headlining at the Half Note (the absolute epitome, as visualized, of an intimate New York basement jazz club).

 

Giddy with delight, oblivious to his surroundings, Joe has an accident … and winds up — now a much smaller, ghostlike presence that represents his soul — on a moving sidewalk leading heavenward into The Great Beyond.

 

(This whiplash assault on our emotions and expectations — giddy with joy, sharing Joe’s success, to sudden whattheheck??? — is typical of Docter’s films.)

Monkey Kingdom: Too much monkey business

Monkey Kingdom (2015) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated G, and suitable for all ages
By Derrick Bang

At its better moments, particularly with respect to the harsh caste system practiced by its small toque macaque stars, this new Disneynature docu-drama is an engaging blend of intimate footage and informative commentary.

Our macaque heroine, Maya, is caught during a quiet
moment with her newborn son, Kip. Sadly, keeping that
little guy well-nourished is destined to become a
constant problem.

Sadly, these “earnest” sequences are blended with the sort of contrived, slapstick nonsense that epitomized bad Disney comedies from the late 1960s and early ’70s: the moments when mischievous animals broke into a paint factory, or some poor housewife’s kitchen, and dumped/destroyed all the contents in a ghastly — but always colorful — display of dripping, gooey glop.

I’d have thought Disney had moved beyond such twaddle, particularly given the thoughtful, intelligent approach of its initial nature documentaries: Earth, Oceans, Wings of Life and several others. But no, director Mark Linfield signals his intentions right from the top, as his simian protagonists run, leap and swing into view accompanied by ... Tommy Boyce and Bobby Hart’s theme to the 1960s TV series The Monkees, performed by no less than ex-Monkee Micky Dolenz.

The film never fully recovers.

Indeed, such “lighter” elements mock what should have been a serious subject. This ain’t the ’60s any more, folks; informed, sophisticated productions from BBC America and the Discovery Channel have taught us to expect much, much more from nature documentaries.

Yes, toque macaque are cute — in an unusual sort of way — and their behaviors can be hilarious. But that doesn’t justify a trivial tone and unnatural “storyline” that insults our intelligence, while minimizing the very real issues that constantly imperil this species, above and beyond the jealously guarded cliques within a single tribe.

What ... just because they’re monkeys, they don’t merit the same respectful treatment accorded, say, the ursine stars of the Disneynature film Bears? Puh-leaze.

We meet our small, furry heroine, Maya, at the beginning of an average day for her tribe. She endures at the bottom of a rigid social order governed by an alpha male named Raja and his three bitchy concubines, collectively known as “the Sisterhood.” The tribe lives in one of the many deserted ancient cities dotting the northeastern portion of the island nation of Sri Lanka. The stone ruins serve as both playground and sanctuary, as does the commanding “Castle Rock” from which Raja often surveys his domain.

As a “low-born” member of the tribe, Maya must be content with meager leftovers when it comes to food, water and shelter. Raja, his mates and their offspring are privileged to nibble on the ripest figs at the top of their most cherished lunch spot; lesser tribe members are found on the tree’s progressively lower branches, where the figs aren’t as tasty. Maya isn’t even permitted in the tree; she must scavenge discarded bits from the ground below.

This Is Where I Leave You: Too much left behind

This Is Where I Leave You (2014) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rated R, for sexual candor, profanity and drug use
By Derrick Bang

Family dynamics can be messy, even disastrous ... which undoubtedly explains the popularity of stories with dysfunctional kinfolk.

It’s comforting to think that we’re not the only ones with a loser younger sibling, or a daft uncle, or a waspish parent.

When Hilary (Jane Fonda, center) reveals that her just-departed husband's final wish was
for his entire family to sit Shiva for a week, this comes as ghastly news to her estranged
children: from left, Wendy (Tina Fey), Paul (Corey Stoll), Judd (Jason Bateman) and
Phillip (Adam Driver).

Even more comforting, after a moment’s reflection, to realize that such situations must be quite common, if they wind up as popular books and movies that feel familiar to so many different people.

Novelist Jonathan Tropper has made a career of scathingly hilarious novels about hapless protagonists buffeted by crises involving careers, parents, siblings, spouses and other elements forever beyond their ability to control. Indeed, “control” — or the lack thereof — is Tropper’s go-to plotline: His classic protagonist is a guy who assumes he's got his act together, only to discover that catastrophe waits just around the corner.

No surprise, then, that one of Tropper’s books — This Is Where I Leave You — has migrated to the big screen, albeit with mixed results. Tropper adapted the novel himself, so we can assume he made a point of retaining key character arcs, comedic encounters and snarky one-liners. He also has the benefit of a large and talented ensemble cast: a collection of potential scene-stealers forever in danger of upstaging each other, much the way large and boisterous families frequently spin out of control.

But I’m not sure Shawn Levy’s overly broad, slapstick sensibilities make him the best director for this project. Subtlety isn’t in Levy’s vocabulary, as proven by uneven, overblown farces such as Date Night, the Steve Martin Pink Panther remake, and the ongoing Night at the Museum franchise. Tropper’s books resonate because of their unerring blend of comedy, pathos and redemptive self-awareness; Levy’s shrill, shrieking approach to humor tends to overwhelm everything else.

Which is a shame, because a dozen richly flawed characters wander throughout this often chaotic narrative, and we can’t help feeling that some of their best interactions got left behind. Instead, we’re treated far too often to (for example) a toddler who drags his potty chair from room to room, plunking onto the seat whenever the urge strikes, and then proudly displaying the results to everybody at hand. Us included.

Which, naturally, includes an episode of poop flung onto an unprepared adult.

When that sort of material emerges within the first 10 minutes of a film, we can't help expecting an overall tone that will undercut the gentler, redemptive moments to be found within Tropper’s script.

Muppets Most Wanted: Sophomore slump

Muppets Most Wanted (2014) • View trailer 
Three stars. Rating: suitable for all ages, despite a truly meaningless PG rating
By Derrick Bang

At 112 minutes, this return visit with the Muppets is too long.

Director/co-scripter James Bobin starts well, with a droll song-and-dance opener that cleverly cites the various mistakes and shortcomings that plague most sequels ... and then, as this film progresses, he succumbs to almost all of them.

Kermit isn't at all sure about the wisdom of signing a contract with the smarmy Dominic
Badguy (Ricky Gervais), but the rest of the Muppets cast aside any doubts after
hearing about a planned European stage tour. What could possibly go wrong?

For the most part, Bret McKenzie’s songs are lyrically witty and staged in a manner that plays to the well-known character quirks of the large Muppet cast. Wry, Muppet-ized send-ups of classic tunes also prompt a giggle, whether Allen Toussaint’s “Working in the Coal Mine,” the Doobie Brothers’ “Long Train Running” or the iconic theme from Titanic, “My Heart Will Go On.”

The problem, eventually, is sheer music overload ... particularly when we factor in nods to Tchaikovsky, Strauss, Wagner, “The Rainbow Connection” and an entire production number lifted whole cloth from A Chorus Line.

Too much music. Way too much music.

Although Muppets Most Wanted is (more or less) propelled by a core plotline, the script — Bobin shares credit with Nicholas Stoller — too frequently feels random and unfocused, as if bits were being concocted on the fly.

It would appear that star Jason Segel had much to do with the success of 2011’s The Muppets, since he also co-wrote that screenplay with Stoller. That predecessor had two solid storylines: The re-assembling of the Muppet troops supplied a great first act, after their long big-screen absence, but the film’s heart came from the unlikely relationship between Segel’s Gary and his Muppet “brother,” Walter.

Muppets Most Wanted lacks that softer side. It’s little more than a series of songs, sight gags and comedy sketches: a format that worked quite well during the half-hour installments of television’s The Muppet Show, back in the late 1970s and early ’80s, but wears thin here and — dare I say it? — grows a bit tedious. Even dull.

And, judging by the increasingly restless behavior of the children present at last weekend’s preview screening, even they got bored. Not a good sign.

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.

Date Night: Bland date

Date Night (2010) • View trailer for Date Night
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, and quite generously, for profanity, violence and considerable smutty content
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.9.10
Buy DVD: Date Night • Buy Blu-Ray: Date Night (Extended Edition) (With Digital Copy) [Blu-ray]

I sure wish Tina Fey had written Date Night, instead of simply co-starring with Steve Carell.

She'd have done a much better job.

Phil (Steve Carell, center) can't understand why Holbrooke (Mark Wahlberg)
keeps wandering around without a shirt, although Phil's wife, Claire (Tina Fey),
certainly doesn't seem bothered, in one of the more amusing segments of the
otherwise disappointing Date Night.

This film could be considered Exhibit A when it comes to Hollywood's lamentable tendency to place star power above script. The project clearly began life as a 25-word pitch designed to pair Fey with Carell, which then got handed to a hack writer — Josh Klausner, whose only previous credit of merit was as part of the committee on Shrek the Third — who didn't have the faintest idea what to do with the material.

The results are clumsy and uneven, to say the least.

The essential premise — a conservative middle-age suburban couple dropped into the big, bad city — goes back to 1970's The Out-of-Towners, a rare misfire from Neil Simon that starred Jack Lemmon and Sandy Dennis. John Landis got much closer to the proper blend of danger and snarky humor with 1985's Into the Night, which paired nerdy Jeff Goldblum with femme fatale Michelle Pfeiffer.

The 1999 remake of The Out-of-Towners, with Steve Martin and Goldie Hawn, is best forgotten ... although it suffered from the same problem that plagues Date Night: a great concept, and two talented leading players, in desperate search of a script.

The set-up here is both clever and reasonably efficient, leading us to expect better than what we eventually get. Phil (Carell) and Claire Foster (Fey) are a sensible, devoted couple with the stereotypical two kids and charming house in the 'burbs of New Jersey. The discovery that their two best friends are getting divorced — mostly due to bland indifference — precipitates a mild crisis, as both Phil and Claire worry that they, too, have become overly complacent, the passion and adventure having leached from their relationship.