Archive for category: Reviews

Why? What was the point? Natalie Portman didn’t look like Jackie – not as pretty, nowhere near the presence – and we were given her at her most insecure, at her most vulnerable. No American who lived through “Camelot” could have directed such a picture, and you wonder why Pablo Larrain – much more at home with Neruda – even tried. As for history, Bryan Cranston’s LBJ in All the Way was so much more authentic to the period. Peter Sarsgaard’s Bobby Kennedy missed by a mile, and none of the bit players rang true, although it was fun to see Greta Herwig in a dramatic role. If my score weren’t so low already, I would deduct another 2 for showing a recreation of JFK’s assassination – tasteless, exploitative and totally unnecessary. No Oscar for the lisping Portman.

Hokey and manipulative, plus cursed by that bane of bad plots, “based on a true story.” Why did Saroo have an adopted brother? Why did Nicole Kidman have such an awful hairdo? Neither helped the movie, but both were based on the true story. Dev Patel’s matinee-idol looks, of course, weren’t based on the truth; they were to make you fall in love with him and his quest. I didn’t. The child Saroo was a charmer, and I was happy to follow the first half of the film, although not so much that I’d ever want to go to India.

A powerful drama, lifted almost intact from the stage. This seemed a problem at first – the staginess of all the action transpiring on the backyard lot, the declamations in place of conversation – but the sheer humanity of the characters, and their problems, won us over. When Denzel Washington defended his affair by saying, in effect, that it was releasing so much that was cooped up inside him, and his wife, Viola Davis, responded, But what about me and my needs?, emotional cords reverberated, onscreen and off. The cast, as in a play, was small, which allowed us to know, and understand, how they all fit together. In the end, I’m sure this is still better as a play, but the production was a noble effort and should earn Davis, at least, an Oscar nomination.

The election of Donald Trump has infected so much of my outlook it is not surprising that it dampened my enthusiasm for Loving, which would otherwise have been a hopeful, inspiring story of two regular people and a couple of young ACLU lawyers bringing down Virginia’s hateful anti-miscegenation law. Just look at how backward and racist part of our society used to be, and glory in how far we have come in the last 50 years. Except that racism is coming back and the Supreme Court no longer stands as a beacon of justice. The descendants of the Ku Klux Klan have moved from the fringe to the front page.

The movie’s other problem is its lack of suspense. We know, going in, exactly what happens. Instead of being nervous for our heroes, we feel impatient: come on, let’s get to the Supreme Court decision. The slowness of the movie and the frequent repetition of scenes – there goes Richard Loving slathering concrete on the cement blocks again – only adds to our impatience.

Ruth Negga is being mentioned for acting awards, but I wonder how much of that comes from the Academy’s embarrassment at lack of black Oscar nominees last year. To me, the more challenging and effective portrayal was by Joel Edgerton, who had the harder job of being sympathetic while playing someone who was not too smart. If anyone should get an award, though, it should be the set designer: I was totally convinced we were in 1950s rural Virginia. No award to the casting director: larger-than-Life Michael Shannon in a bit part took me out of Virginia to Hollywood for no good purpose.

Good fun to be reminded of Toshiro Mifune’s roles, especially in Kurosawa classics, and get some sense of what made him a star. Otherwise, there was nothing particularly compelling or unique about this documentary.