This documentary is sort of like Normal People, except the people are unattractive, uninteresting, inarticulate and not erotically charged. Barbora is a better painter than interviewer and it’s never clear what she’s looking for or finding in Bertil, who was so drugged he can’t remember why he stole her painting or what he did with it. The only thing more puzzling than why someone made this film is how they did it.
If by having Calle proclaim his undying love for Nina, though they’re both married to others, in the final scene, the makers of The Restaurant hoped to hook me for Season 2, they were sadly mistaken. Manipulate me once, shame on you; manipulate me every five minutes, forget it! What started out as a new and intriguing scenario – a restaurant in post-war Stockholm – with interesting characters, started bouncing all over the place, crisis upon crisis. The beautiful Nina, a free-spirited life force starting her own jazz club against all odds, turned into an unattractive dope addict, bad wife and sister, worse mother. Younger brother Peter, who seemed good, smart and calm, began liaisons with a gangster and the unpleasant, greedy wife of his boss. Gustaf, repulsive from the beginning, alternated between dumb and evil acts without being shown off the stage. And, somehow, the colorless waitress Margareta was elected chair of the restaurant workers’ union, bringing feminism, gay rights and workers’ rights to Sweden while raising a young son as a single mother. By the end of episode 10, there was no one I wanted to spend any more time with. Downton Abbey also occasionally overplotted, but the twists and turns, if too frequent, were more inherently plausible, and the people were so much more charming.
What a relief, after watching soaps that have no ending (most recently, The Restaurant), to watch a 90-minute movie that has a premise and characters, develops them, builds dramatically and has a resolution – even if, as the opening credit warns us, it’s an “unsolved” mystery. Amy Ryan is sensational as the obsessed, albeit very flawed, mother who launches a crusade after her daughter, a young sex worker, goes missing. Gabriel Byrne, one of my favorite actors, is the beleaguered police commissioner in charge of the case, and the similarly wonderful Thomasin McKenzie is the remarkably stable sister of the victim. The film, by Serin’s first boss Liz Garbus, has a message, but it never gets in the way of the story. Her directorial flourishes are a bit obtrusive, but they add a big-budget gloss to low-budget sets and settings.
Much of the charm is supplied by the charming Rose Williams’s expressive face, voluptuous body and bottomless pit of dresses, which materialize out of the blue. The rest comes from the smoky Theo James as Sidney Parker, the love/hate cynosure of Rose’s Charlotte. We get to know a dozen other denizens of, and visitors to, the rising beach resort of Sanditon, and they are all sharply delineated and sufficiently interesting. It is easy to fall into the world of Jane Austen’s fiction (easier than it was in the recent Emma), and if we feel cheated at the end (a manufactured tease designed to permit a second season), that is a compliment to what we know from reading Austen, particularly Pride and Prejudice, in our pasts. Once again it was our affection for the female lead that made us race through eight episodes.
Planned Parenthood is the unsung hero of this wrenching story of 17-year-old Autumn Callahan, pregnant in Pennsylvania, who goes to New York City for an abortion. Sidney Flanigan plays Autumn as an awkward, affectless teen whose idea of conversation is “Whatever.” Her cousin who accompanies her has a bit more spirit, but there is a lot of quiet. Writer-director Eliza Hittman paints a picture so real, you feel it must be. Simple but bold, this movie touches a nerve.
A flawlessly told story of a young woman’s escape from the psychological and physical clutches of the ultraconservative Satmar Hasidic community in Brooklyn. In four episodes (with no sequel to follow), we watch Esty, played brilliantly by Shira Haas, grow from a shrinking and confused misfit into, somewhat improbably, a talented musician with great friends, a loving mother and a new life in Germany. The Hasidic community, the villains of the piece, are nevertheless portrayed with some sympathy. If that’s your cup of tea, it’s a comfortable life; but tea is not for everyone, and if you don’t like it no one should make you drink it. The Rachel Weisz movie Disobedience (2017) told pretty much the same story. If you combine that, this, Our Boys and a little Uncut Gems, you get a pretty consistent picture of Orthodox Jewish communities, outsiders living among us.
A gripping and revelatory 10-part docudrama about the abduction and brutal murder of a 15-year-old Palestinian by three West Bank settlers that gives voice to many, if not all, sides of the tragic conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. There are good people and not-so-good people on both sides, and the pressures tearing them apart are astutely shown as far greater than the need or anyone’s desire to come together. I can’t say enough about the acting: every character is real and complicated. There are no caricatures, and no one appears to be acting. We spend equal time, it seems, among three groups: the Palestinian family of Abu Iyad; the Orthodox Jews of the Adam settlement; and the Jewish Division of Shabak, Israel’s internal security service. Each has its internal logic, and like rock/paper/scissors there can be no harmony. If you haven’t followed this conflict, this movie will tell you all you need to know. If you have been watching, this will all ring, sadly, true. Maybe one of the ten hours was a bit slow; the other nine raced by – when can we see more? And, Allah be praised, while in real life similar events continue, Our Boys ended without a cliffhanger lead-in to Season Two.
After a stunning setup in the first three or four episodes, the 7-part series drifts toward soap opera territory, which is cemented when the season finale turns from a true finale to a teaser for Season Two. Part of my letdown may also be due to the diminished role of Kasia, the Polish barmaid, who alone is reason to watch until her character is out of the picture, then used and abused. Most of the characters are a tad too extreme for my taste, and the disparate stories don’t always come together comfortably. One subplot, the American Webster and his Parisian jazz-playing boyfriend, I could do without; and Helen Hunt better serves her role as narrator for war events than as a plausible person in Berlin. In my book, Kasia, Harry and Douglas should all be honorably dead by now, in a resolution I could live with and admire. As it is, at the expense of plausibility and my patience, they live on for another year…or two…or three.
A remarkably effective, and affecting, four-part documentary on the rise and fall of Hillary Clinton. Despite the participation of Hillary herself, the series presented a balanced view of her career, such that the feelings of loss I experienced were for the political decades we’ve lived through, not for Hillary herself. I’ll never forgive her for losing to Trump (any more than I will ever forgive George W. for his term as president), and the documentary provided some insight, whether intentional or not, as to how that happened. Unquestionably smart, strong and ambitious, she comes across as tone-deaf about how she’s perceived and rather cold, lacking in human warmth. And my gosh, that constantly changing hairstyle – what was that about?
If two of your favorite genres are Japanese yakuza and British crime, this binational 8-parter is for you. Or if, like me, you can’t get enough of Kelly Macdonald’s Scottish accent and dark sense of humor, it’s all you could want, as well. Keeping track of who’s who, especially within the rival factions of the Tokyo underworld, is enough to keep your mind engaged, and the cross-cultural references are fun. Takehiro Hira plays the detective lead as a Japanese Hamlet, while his brother is his opposite in every way, a strangely appealing bad guy. And, as in Hamlet, bodies fall, pretty willy-nilly. As usual, though, when we think we’ve reached the end, a totally improbable twist opens the door to Season Two.
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