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.

Blinded By The Light

"Blinded By the Light is out tonight," I yelled to my daughter Griffyn, who I figured would be the most willing in my family to grant my last minute ask. 

"Let's go see it!" 

She loves the buttered popcorn, and she's into great song lyrics. So on any night of the week she'd be into seeing this particular movie. 

Tonight, though, happened to be the last Friday night she'll be at home before moving out for college. Several weeks ago I was excited and proud as I watched her pack up her room; now, as time draws close, I'm heartbroken.

I want more time with her. 

I got somethin' in my heart

I've been waitin' to give.

I got a life I wanna start

One I've been waitin' to live

Blinded's Javed Khan can't wait to get out of his home and get on with his life. His is an isolated existence filled with racial strife and economic struggles. He identifies with lyrics written by The Boss: tramps like Springsteen and Khan, baby they were born to run.

In between bites of popcorm I found myself watching Griffyn, especially during the movie's most emotional scenes. We haven't talked much about the fact she's moving out. It's an emotional challenge for me, and it's a challenge I'm not facing well.

Did she identify with the lead character, I wondered? Was she eager to get the hell out and start this new adventure? Were Springsteen's lyrics speaking to her, too?

Talk about a dream,

Try to make it real

"That was a really great movie," she said as we discarded our trash and headed toward the exit. On the way to the car we talked about the plot, praised the acting, and talked about how Springsteen has written so many lyrics that inspire.

"You know," she said as we drove out of the parking garage, "I'll be moving out in just a few days. I'm nervous, but I'm excited too. It will all be OK, but I'm going to miss seeing you every day."

Same, kid.  . . . same.

You've got to learn to live

With what you can't rise above

The Kitchen

Dear Couple In Row B:

I'm glad you enjoyed The Kitchen.

Despite being seated seven rows behind you  -- and on the far right of the theater, while you were on the far left -- I overheard you talking to each other about how much you loved the flick. You loved the soundtrack. You loved the violence. You loved watching the women grow from milquetoasts to badass gangsters.

I know you loved it because you talked about how much you loved it. From start to finish. From opening to closing credits.

Between several really loud burps you loved it.

Between your inappropriate knee-slaps and laughter -- it's wasn't a comedy, after all -- you loved it.

Between the dozens of loud, Marlboro-influenced coughs you loved it.

Me?

It was OK?