The Mangrove – 9

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Exhilarating. The story combines George Floyd and the Chicago 7 in 1970 London, and I was stunned at the end to learn it was also based on a true story. Steve McQueen creates a foreign world–a community of Caribbean immigrants in Notting Hill–and populates it with people we believe in and come to care deeply about. The triumph of hard-working, disadvantaged Blacks over an ingrained, abusive, and in some cases rotten, system of white privilege makes for stirring drama, while the reggae soundtrack keeps things just joyful enough to pull you through it. I only hope that the next four installments of Small Axe make me feel as good.

The Personal History of David Copperfield – 5

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I have no idea what someone not familiar with the titular book would think of this scrapbook of moments culled from its pages, but maybe there isn’t such a one who would be watching. As it is, we are left to compare the movie’s impersonations of the memorable characters, from Uriah Heep to Mr. Micawber to Mr. Dick, with our own mental impressions, whether formed from reading, from Phiz illustrations or, most likely, from the 1935 film with W.C. Fields, Basil Rathbone and Edna May Oliver. Interestingly, the least memorable figure is David himself, which helps make Dev Patel’s surprise casting the most satisfying role in this production. The story itself is presented with little narrative thrust or integrity, producing no emotional response in the viewer. And the casting is disconcerting–not because it includes Blacks, Indians and Asians, but because, for instance, the muddle-headed Mr. Dick is played by Hugh Laurie, who always comes off as the most intelligent person on screen.

The Bee Gees: How Can You Mend A Broken Heart – 8

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Everything you need to know about one of my favorite groups in less than two hours, this documentary was loving but not fawning, with samples of their best songs (out of the 1,000 they wrote). Archival footage was mixed in good proportion with current interviews, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the Greek-god looks of Barry Gibb. Not innovators or, therefore, critics’ darlings, the Bee Gees followed musical trends–specifically, the Beatles and disco–but their catchy tunes and beautiful three-part harmonies made one overlook lyrics that were banal or even nonsensical. The less depth, in the music and this movie, the better.

Dick Johnson Is Dead – 6

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The punch line, of course, is that Dick Johnson isn’t dead in this loving documentary by his daughter Kirsten. She uses his growing dementia as an excuse to grapple with his inevitable end, in ways it might occur (but probably won’t), how it will affect people and where he will go (which he clearly won’t). How much you like the film depends on how much you like Dick Johnson, or perhaps how much you want to think about death, but I couldn’t help but feel that the sweet old man was being exploited.

Collective – 6.5

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Bravo to the journalists of Sports Gazette who doggedly exposed scandal in the Romanian health system. Bravo to the young Minister of Health who tried to clean up the scandal. And bravo to the filmmaker who somehow managed to record the private deliberations of both. But as a film, this came across as an amateurish rough draft: slow, repetitive, lacking drama, in need of context and focus.  The scandal meandered from diluted biocides to bribery and kickbacks to unqualified hospital management to wrongful accreditation to Trump-like politics. The villains remained offscreen. There was a death, but the question, was it suicide, murder or an accident, was never answered. The film gave us an interesting, if depressing, view of Romania; but I can’t fathom why it is #2 on Time’s Top Ten for the year instead of the far superior, in every way, Athlete A.

Mank – 4

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A thoroughly unpleasant two hours of snark, cynicism, cigarettes and a drunken boor, with nary a witty line to be heard nor a noble man in sight. Mank’s wife and secretary, who also look alike, are the only people who exude any decency. The story is a “who-cares?,” and it goes back-and-forth with flashbacks to mask its vapidity (granted, the act of writing a screenplay is not inherently dramatic). The movie relies too much on reflected luster from Citizen Kane and Hollywood names from the ’30s, coupled with black-and-white cinematography that mimics its subject. For a good self-referential movie about Hollywood, see Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon A Time…  David Fincher’s Mank is DOA.

The Crown (season 4) – 8

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I can’t gainsay the quality of the acting and the production, but the ten episodes of Season 4 left an uneven impression. Each episode was its own self-contained story. Those that mixed British politics with Royal Family matters–such as the superb finale–were deeply rewarding. Those that focused on the Royals’ dysfunction–such as Princess Margaret’s search for meaning in her life–were less so. Tobias Menzies’ Prince Philip got to play the sane one–quite a switch from his predecessor in the early years who was a total cad; but all the characters were rather one-dimensional. Olivia Colman’s Queen Elizabeth confused me: she could be quite sensitive one moment, then unaccountably brusque and rude the next. How hard it must be to inject flesh and blood into someone we know as the picture on a postage stamp! The other character worth noting was Gillian Anderson’s Margaret Thatcher. She struck me as a caricature, but what do I know?

The Undoing – 8

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Plusses: Nicole Kidman looked great. So did New York: Central Park, the Frick, the UES. The supporting cast – Noah Jupe, Donald Sutherland, Lily Rabe, Noma Dumezweni, Jeremy Shamos(!) – was great fun. Best of all, the story kept us–and I mean a lot of us–guessing up to the last episode: who killed Elena Alves? The courtroom scenes, until Grace’s time on the stand, were impressively real.

Minuses: The reason we were kept guessing was the constant introduction of “red herrings”–clues that led us to suspect different characters, although in retrospect most, if not all, were utterly implausible, if not impossible (e.g., a video of Grace walking near the murder scene in Harlem near the time of the murder). Hugh Grant, who played Jonathan with a pained, pinched face that conveyed what? (constipation?). His opaque, unconvincing characterization kept us from focusing all our suspicions on him, but gave us no reason to accept the denouement, when it came.

Net: It was great fun to have a reasonable six-parter that unfolded each Sunday evening, something to look forward to and discuss with fellow devotees. At the end, it was nothing more, but for now that was enough.

Roadkill – 8

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Kudos for telling a complex story of human and political intrigue involving two dozen characters in four packed episodes. Holding it together was a usually brilliant and compelling performance by Hugh Laurie. No matter the bad things he did or that happened to him, I never worried too much, because he, Peter Laurence, was Hugh Laurie and he could take it. I guess the American equivalent is Kevin Spacey in House of Cards, but Roadkill was more pointed and less smarmy. The title refers to all the women left on the side of the road as Laurence motors to 10 Downing Street, a nice theme that leaves something to think about as the story ends. Only drawback: instead of ending, the writer left one unlikely hook open to let us know there will be a Season 2.

Queen’s Gambit – 7.5

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Everyone loves a good sports story, in which the underdog overcomes adversity and wins the big game. Three things distinguished this one: the hero was female, playing against men; the sport, unusually, was chess; and the men who lost to her were nice guys. The adversity was all inherent: her situation as an orphan, then a self-destructive urge toward booze and tranquilizers. Anya Taylor-Joy was an excellent choice for the lead–nice on the eyes but not distractingly pretty–and the men were easy to follow. In short, this was a fun escape during Trump’s post-election craziness.