A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood

While The Film Geek family trekked toward the Cinemark theater to see A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood our discussion centered on the theme song of the old show. 

TFG: You know, the Mandela Effect changed the . . .

Mrs. Film Geek: The what effect?

TFG:  The Mandela Effect. We remember things one way, but they really are another way. I think it has to do with false memories. Or parallel universes. Or a rip in our time space continuum. But anyway, the lyrics to Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood -- sing it with me: "It's a beautiful day   -- 

Kids In The Back: . . . in the neighborhood!

TFG: Nope. It's "in this neighborhood." "This." It was never "the." This. But we all remember it as "the."

Mrs. Film Geek: False memories. 

TFG: Parallel universes!

We bought our tickets, sat down and readied ourselves to find out once and for all what havoc this Mandela Effect had on our beloved Mr. Rogers. 

Tom Hanks entered the first scene and sang in a perfect Mr. Rogers voice " . . . in this neighborhood," and I started to weep. Suddenly, I didn't give a damn about the Mandela Effect. I was focused solely on this beloved character from my childhood. 

Tom Hanks was Fred Rogers. And I was 7 years old again. 

The magic of Fred Rogers is that his show was never about him. The show was about the audience, and Mr. Rogers was just the conduit that connected the audience to the message. Fred Rogers was never a celebrity no matter how famous he became. He had equal status with the viewer; in fact, he often stood in the periphery after he introduced you to King Friday or one of the other many characters. 

Fred Rogers didn't seek out the spotlight. He shined that spotlight on you. 

And that's the beauty of the 2019 film. Tom Hanks' Mr. Rogers is not the central character of A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood. That role belongs to Matthew Ryes, who plays reporter Lloyd Vogel. Mr. Rogers is simply the MacGuffin that helps Lloyd recognize, then ultimately heal, his fractured life. 

A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood reminds us that it takes courage and conviction to be selfless. And because it's hard to be selfless, so many people today are not. Fred Rogers teaches us that if we stay focused we can choose to be selfless. We can choose to connect with others. We can choose how we respond to conflict and crisis. 

We can choose to make our neighborhood a better place. 

The Irishman

Pardon me for just a moment while I gush:

Martin Scorsese's The Irishman is a masterpiece in storytelling. A powerful, poetic case study in humanity, loyalty, and loss . . .

. . . and I would have hated it had I seen it at any other time in my life.

Scorsese's name is synonymous with films about organized crime. (Although I'd argue Raging Bull is his best movie, and The Last Temptation of Christ is near the top of his career-best list.) While he's directed more non-gangster than gangster flicks, you can't think of his movies without thinking of the mob. Especially Goodfellas and Casino.

I'm unsure where The Irishman ranks in quality compared to these films. But, I know that without them this film could not have been made.

I saw Goodfellas in my mid-20s, and I relished every minute of it. Fast paced and fueled with testosterone, the story about men taking chances and trying to build a life (albeit a life of crime) made sense to me at that age. Casino was released as I entered my 30s, and I connected to it in part because it mirrored aspects of my life at that time. The chances I took at that age were more mature and more calculated than those of my 20s, but I was ambitious and focused on protecting the life I was building.

If I'd seen The Irishman at 25 or 30 years of age I might have been bored out of my mind. But the movie really hit home for me, perhaps due to my age. I understand Frank Sheeran's reflection on what a lifetime of deceit and crime cost him. I get the soul-searching that occurs later in life, when one wonders if decades-old decisions were correct. I know from experience that youthful ambition leads to poor decisions, and that regret about those decisions comes with maturity and age.

The Irishman is old-man Scorsese sending a message to his younger self, to the Scorsese who directed  Goodfellas and Casino, that there's much more to life than immediate gratification and money.

I get the message, too.

21 Bridges

Brian Kirk's 21 Bridges casts Chadwick Boseman as Andre Davis, a NY City cop who's spent his life trying to live up to the heroic legacy of his father. And living up to that legacy means Davis fights bad guys with dedicated zeal.

Get in his way and he will go through you if he can't go around you.

The plot of 21 Bridges centers on drug smuggling  -- in fact, there may be more cocaine in this flick than could be found on Wall Street in the 1980s. The plot is predictable, and some of Boseman's dialogue is stilted and stiff.

Despite the flaws, 21 Bridges is a watchable popcorn flick. (Especially if you're off work during Thanksgiving week and have some extra time to burn.)

Knives Out

Recipe For Rian Johnson's Knives Out

Ingredients

1 1/2  Cups Agatha Christie 

3/4     Cups Alfred Hitchcock 

4        A-List stars 

5        B-List stars

2        C-List star 

1        Stylistically-focused writer / director 

2 tbl  Commentary about class and racial division in the U.S.A.

Directions

Blend Christie and Hitchcock until smooth, then add all 11 stars into the mix. Stir well. Combine a visually interesting set with great dialogue and complex characters. Let stand for 30 minutes, then add subtle yet hard-biting political commentary about the issues of the day. Cover and bake for 2 hours 10 minutes.  

The Good Liar

The Good Liar, directed by Bill Condon and starring Helen Mirren and Ian McKellen, aspires to be Hitchcock. But what it is reveled to be is something a bit more pedestrian.

That's not to say the movie is bad. Mirren and McKellen are terrific in their roles, and Condon sets up the story in a way that prevents most viewers from fulling predicting any plot twists.

The Good Liar is a complicated script and -- as with most complicated scripts -- it's replete with plot holes that one must overlook to enjoy the outcome. Condon layers the movie in a way that patches up most of the holes; but it's just a patch, and the holes are only partially filled.

As a result, what could have been a great film is just average.

Ford v Ferrari

OK, movie buffs. It's legit contender time of the year -- get your Oscar checklists ready.

And add Ford v Ferrari to the top of the list.

James Mangold's telling of how Carroll Shelby (played by Matt Damon) and Ken Miles (played by Christian Bale) rose to the task of building a race car that could compete -- and potentially win -- against the Ferrari racing team at the 1966 Le Mans is that good.

Mangold's story is ambitious without being pretentious. The personalities in this story are big, but the most of the actors tell the story in a minimalistic style. There's some race car action, but the real drama of Ford v Ferrari is about watching men compelled to carry out a mission.

It's who they are, and they can't escape it. Even f the consequences are dire.

Ford v Ferrari will have a long list of Academy Award nomination. Certainly, Bale and Damon will be in the hunt. But director James Mangold deserves to be on the best of list. His storytelling here is masterful.

The Lighthouse

Two salty dogs, and

A one-eyed seagull make for

Radiant brilliance 

Motherless Brooklyn

Motherless Brooklyn is Edward Norton's baby. He stars in the flick, he wrote the film adaptation, and it's the first time he's directed since 2000's Keeping The Faith. 

You don't remember Keeping the Faith, which stared Norton, Ben Stiller, and Jenna Elfman? Well, you'll remember Motherless Brooklyn.

In 1959 low-rent private investigator Lionel Essrog works his way through a murder mystery that has devestating personal and professional ramifications. Essrog happens to have Tourette's syndrome, which both aids and hampers his PI work.  He's considered disordered and immature by his peers, who call him "freakshow." 

"You're no freakshow," his boss Frank Minna whispers to him during a crucial moment early in the film. The audience doesn't believe it, though, and neither does Essrog. He's been trying unsuccessfully to acclimate his entire life. The whisper means something to him, and it helps get Essrog onto the plot path. Butt he doesn't believe Minna.

By the end he, and the audience, do. 

Motherless Brooklyn feels like a period piece detective story. The dialogue is quick and snappy, surprises arise throughout, villains are a bit of a caricature, and it has a really cool musical score that helps form the movie's identity. The plot shines light on a variety of social ills, including capitalistic greed and racism (and how the two are often combined). 

But, the best part is watching Norton's Essrog overcome insecurity, his disorder, and a lifetime of challenges to find his confidence. 

Although the movie isn't perfect -- there are some minor plot holes, and some of the outcomes are obvious -- it's worth seeing in a theater. The supporting cast alone (Willem Dafoe, Bruce Willis, Ethan Suplee, Bobby Cannavalle, Alec Baldwin, and Gugu Mbatha-Raw) are worth the trip downtown and the price of a ticket. 

The cherry on top, though, is watching two-plus hours of Edward Norton transforming his character from man-child to grown man. It's sorta his thing, and he does it as well here as he has in any of his previous works. 

Joker

"What do you get when you cross a mentally ill loner with a society that abandons him and treats him like trash? You get what you deserve!"

                                                ~ Arthur Fleck 

Mrs. Film Geek pointed out the exit door as we made our way to our seats.

"If something goes bad," she said, "that's the way we get out."

Neither of us fully believed violence would take place during the movie in our small town, but we know it's possible. It has happened before: a theater-based mass shooting took place a few years ago at a Bat-flick opening in Colorado, and mass shootings have become all too common these days.

If you aren't looking for the exists when you go into a movie theater, a mall, a bar, or when you go to a concert then you're just sticking your head in the sand.

It's the new norm. Right?

I still felt unsettled as I eased into my theater seat, and that feeling only intensified during the 122 minute run time of the movie. I had ring-side seats to watch a man try to maintain some sense of dignity, and be desperate to keep what little bit of control he had in his life. Arthur Fleck transformed into Joker in front of my eyes not in reaction to the pain and misery he lived with day-to-day; rather, he transformed into this monster through some dark, twisted effort to be resilient.

He's trying to feel something. To be noticed. He's trying to matter in the only way he can -- through dysfunctional, violent means. We know too many people like that in 2019 -- it's why we look for the exit when we go out to be entertained.

Juaquin Phoenix plays this transformation in remarkable fashion. Phoenix is awkward and uncertain as Fleck, while fluid and confident as Joker. Fleck is desperate to receive the attention of someone --anyone -- while  Joker is desperate to be adored by many. The subtle transformation is completed in the final act as the Clown Prince of Crime takes revenge on someone who was once a father figure to Fleck. With this horrific act Joker grows up. He becomes his own man.

And the result is anarchy.

Co-writer and director Todd Phillips is Scorsese-esque in how he makes the grim, dirty Gotham feel like a character in the flick. And the director makes obvious comparisons to the economic and political divides in our country. (My favorite of which is when the man running for mayor -- slightly Trumpian in his view of the poor -- uses a restroom where urinal handles are plated in gold.) Much has been made of what Phillips has called an homage to Scorsese, and there are signs of that along the way. But Phoenix demands attention with this portrayal, so early in the movie I forgot about the similarities and just enjoyed his performance.

Some in the press suggest that Joker glorifies violence, or say the film portrays people who live with mental illness as violent.  Neither is true. Joker is the study of one man suffocating under the collapse of the middle and lower economic classes. It's about one man who has his support system (which was limited at best anyway) dismantled without thought to how that might affect him. Joker is about one man so isolated and lonely that he isn't noticed, and he's had more than he can bear.

Joker is a movie for our times. And if we aren't more thoughtful as a society, Joker will be a movie about our future.

Booksmart

In June of nineteen-hundred-and-eighty-three (said in my best old guy voice) I waited for Pomp and Circumstance to start while standing in line behind Steve Copenhaver and beside Mary Simons. We had a high school graduation to get through so that we could start the next chapter of our lives.

90 minutes earlier I drank my first-ever beer while at a party near Summersville Lake.

I felt exhilarated but anxious; I wasn't intoxicated, but I worried the drunk would suddenly hit me as I walked across the stage to get my diploma. Sorta like after one takes a hit of acid and waits for it to kick in, I nervously anticipated that Budweiser buzz and prayed it didn't hit at the wrong time.

The naïve angst of teenagers, eh?

Navigating the social trappings of high school can be daunting, and I wasn't different from any other student. Our school had the usual cliques -- each comprised of kids who thought we were unique when really we'd just conformed like everyone else. I made it through high school without too many scrapes and bruises, but it was the near future that worried me most.

I was uncertain about a future outside my small hometown and without my small circle of friends. And the uncertainty scared me.

I suspect even the most mature high school graduates feels anxious about the major transition being thrust upon them. Pre-graduation time moves slowly, providing ample time for kids to reflect on their growth and their failings. And the social infrastructure that made up our world for years starts to crumble in those final weeks of high school.

I guzzled a beer to see what all the fuss was about. In Booksmarts, Amy and Molly step away from their rigid studies to party with classmates they've learned beside for years but barely know. They wanna know what they've been missing.

The result is a coming-of-age teen comedy that's fresh and entertaining.

Directed by Olivia Wilde, Booksmarts works on several levels: the dialogue is honest, characters are deeper than the stereotypes they initially seem to represent, and the comedy is smart.  But it's the relationship between leads Beanie Feldstein and Kaitlyn Deaver that makes this flick work.

The audience believes the pair have known and loved each other for a lifetime. Wilde uses small moments throughout the film -- my favorite being early in the movie when Amy picks up Molly from her home to drive her to school -- to show that these girls deeply understand, respect, and love each other.

You'll recognize yourself in the adventures Molly and Amy have in the days leading up to their high school graduation. And because of Wilde's direction and the acting chops of Deaver and Feldstein, you'll understand, respect, and love these girls too.