The Trial of the Chicago 7 – 8.5

Pure catnip: an Aaron Sorkin drama with pithy dialogue, clearly drawn characters, a hopefully moral universe and a healthy dose of politics, past and present. Being in my personal revisit-Vietnam moment helped. Having just watched Platoon, the Ken Burns 10-part documentary, Da 5 Bloods and having read Oliver Stone’s and Randy Hobler’s memoirs, this moment of history didn’t seem so distant. The all-star cast was just that: all-star. Sacha Baron Cohen and Jeremy Strong were brilliant, and great fun, as Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin. The one weak link was Eddie Redmayne, an Englishman miscast as Tom Hayden. Conversely, the most brilliant performance was by another Brit: Mark Rylance’s performance as William Kunstler. The echoes with 2020–street protests and a repressive government–made the story all the more compelling.

Time – 6.5

If nothing else, this film immersed me in an unfamiliar world, Black life in Louisiana. Maybe there was nothing else. The story covered 20 years between Sibil and Robert’s failed bank robbery and Robert’s long-awaited release from jail.  Without any other facts, though, no points were made about the justice or incarceration systems. Most remarkable were the outcomes for the couples’s four sons, although again we weren’t shown how that happened. Sibil was an appealing and impressive central character, but all we saw her do was talk. The story line was a bit hard to follow, as it jumped around in time: confusion was a substitute for profundity.

 

 

If You Could Read My Mind – 8.5

A thoroughly enjoyable musical biography of Gordon Lightfoot, with a Canadian viewpoint and tone. The title song alone was achievement enough for a lifetime, but Lightfoot’s career extended through two eras – the folk rock of the ’60s and singer-songwriter era of the ’70s – both fertile periods with wonderful memories to revive. Practically every recognizable Canadian folk or rock singer opined or appeared (plus, inexplicably, Alec Baldwin), which balanced the autobiographical comments of Gord himself, looking much older than 80. I liked his music when it appeared; I guess I didn’t realize, however, just how good it was.

Boys State – 8

A scary and depressing documentary about the annual American Legion-sponsored gathering of 17-year-olds, in which 1,200 boys divide into two parties and spend a week forming a government, this one from 2018 in Austin, Texas. Scary and depressing because even at that idealistic age, politics is seen as a cynical exercise and abortion and gun control are the defining issues, neither in a good way. The documentarians do a good job of creating a story with a rooting interest, given they didn’t know the outcome when they started. It’s only too bad they couldn’t manufacture a more inspiriting process or a happy ending.

An Easy Girl – 6.5

It is a pleasure to enter the lush world of the French Riviera, albeit on the small TV screen, and to return to the world of French (Belgian) cinema, where the “action” is a series of conversations, with some (large) bare breasts thrown in. I was somehow reminded of Proust by this story of an innocent 16-year-old, a summer at the beach, observing and learning about sex and society. We get to know four people, and that’s enough.

The Assistant – 6

Imagine the most demeaning job you can think of, despite the status of working as assistant (what used to be called “secretary”) to the ceo of a glamorous entertainment company. Then imagine a movie that consists entirely of living through one day in that job, exclusively from the assistant’s point of view. I kept waiting for something to happen, for the plot to kick in. But no, we just watched Julia Garner, looking drab in a drab outfit, endure one humiliation after another. That was it.

Just Mercy – 8

Wonderful performances by Jamie Foxx, Michael Jordan and Brie Larson make this a pleasure to watch. Even not having read the book, there were no surprises, and if the story were not true you’d criticize the screenwriter for a lack of imagination. But what’s wrong with a happy ending that makes you cry? And events since this movie came out in 2019 have only made the depicted injustices against Black lives more credible and relevant.

Palm Springs – 4.5

A must-see for all Andy Samberg fans, not so much for anyone else.  OK, Cristin Milioti is pretty good, too. But the rest – plot, setting, secondary characters – is pretty puerile, a bad takeoff on Groundhog Day. The movie lurches from gag to gag, with no direction home.

John Lewis: Good Trouble – 4

We watched this in homage to a great American the day after he died. As a documentary, it wasn’t much: familiar clips of the civil rights struggle–still shocking and heartbreaking–mixed with contemporary film of Lewis greeting and hugging well-wishers, with about a fifty-year hole in the middle. The only new piece for me was a reference to his first race for Congress against Julian Bond, in which Bond expressed seemingly sincere disappointment at Lewis’s less than honorable campaign. The sole negative note in 90 minutes, I wish it would have been explained or explored some more, along with some of Lewis’s battles and stands during his Congressional career. The definitive film about John Lewis is yet to be made.

The Truth – 5

I have to admit I don’t know what this film was about, although Siri’s comparison to the previous film by Kore-eda, Shopkeepers, was apt: what constitutes a family. Ethan Hawke seemed to have stumbled in from Before Midnight, in which he was equally lost; the husband Pierre seemed left over from Boudu Saved from Drowning. The director appeared intent on making Catherine Deneuve as unappealing as possible (then why sell the film as a Deneuve vehicle?): heavy, chain-smoking, insecure and inconsiderate, perpetually frowning. Nor was the character of an aging actress remotely original. Juliette Binoche shone, as usual, and the young daughter was a breath of fresh air. But the personal relationships–which presumably was the motif of the film–weren’t convincing, and the plotting was desultory. The Binoche-Hawke family had ostensibly come from America for the publication of Deneuve’s memoirs, but there wasn’t even a publication party in sight.