Archive | October, 2024

Short Takes

13 Oct

“Joker: Folie à Deux,” “The Apprentice” and “Red Rooms”

‘The Apprentice’ (2024)

Not so much a takedown of Donald Trump as a look at the early years of the man who would be president as he morphs from socially awkward entrepreneur to megalomaniac, viewing capitalism and New York City as his oyster to shuck – all under the tutelage of Roy Cohn (thus the film’s title). The film opens with Nixon giving his famous “I am not a crook” speech, the erection of the World Trade Towers and Trump (Sebastian Stan, “Captain America: The Winter Soldier,” “Fresh,” and on screen now in “A Different Man”) going door-to-door in a tenement building shaking down low-income residents for back rent. Turns out the Trumps are under suit and facing stiff penalties from the Department of Justice for discriminating against people of color. Trump is enamored with the well-connected Cohn (Jeremy Strong of “Succession”), who served as chief counsel to U.S. Sen. Joseph McCarthy during his 1950s Red Scare and prosecuted the Rosenbergs, who were executed for espionage. One night he catches the eye of his idol at a swank club and enlists him to represent the family in the suit. To say Cohn employed questionable tactics would be an understatement, but he has advice for the young Trump: Always be attacking; when accused, always deny; and if you lose, claim victory. It seems to have stuck. The films chronicles Trump’s very public fight with Mayor Ed Koch over getting Trump Tower built, his tumultuous first marriage to Ivana (Maria Bakalova, so good at taking down one of Koch’s mayoral successors in “Borat Subsequent Moviefilm”) and his disavowal of Cohn – a closeted gay man who used homosexual slurs constantly – when he comes down with AIDS. It’s directed by Ali Abbasi, who has done equally dark tales in other lands: “Border” (2018) in Denmark and “Holy Spider” (2022) in Iran. The punchy “Apprentice overall” casts a cynical sheen over the young DJT but feels balanced; as the ego swells and grows into a horrific hubris, that’s when we get the goring of a demagogue akin to Oliver Stone’s “W.” (2008) and Adam McKay’s “Vice” (2018). Stan, often under prosthetic makeup, looks the part (the hair!) but doesn’t quite sound it, yet still holds the film together, while Strong is a captivating, conflicted pit bull as Cohn and steals scenes with every razor-barbed line he fires off. Historical icons such as Andy Warhol and Roger Smith pop up, and Cohn has wild orgies that Trump stumbles into, but it’s the timing of the film so close to an election that may raise eyebrows, considering a pretty graphic sexual assault scene featuring the man who would be our president. That said, it doesn’t really tarnish the man or give him an out. It paints a picture that somehow makes the aspirational DJT somewhat sympathetic and allows us to connect the dots. 

‘Red Rooms’ (2023)

The Nicolas Cage flick “Longlegs” was supposed to revive the serial killer genre, but Cage’s bold acting style wasn’t enough of a jolt. Here, in Pascal Plante’s “Red Rooms,” common genre elements get respun more powerfully. We start by witnessing the binding, torture and killing of a victim over the Internet, except that we don’t: It’s experienced only through the aglow facial expressions of an observer who has paid a fortune on the dark web to revel in the act – a bespoke snuff experience, filled with dismemberment and sexual assault. There’s never blood or gore, which makes the result far more visceral than any gushing arterial spray. Set in Canada’s Quebec province (and mostly in French), Ludovic Chevalier (Maxwell McCabe-Lokos) is on trial for the murder of three lithe, blonde and blue-eyed teens, because that “look” brings the best price. In court, Chevalier sits in a thick glass cage, as if in a zoo. The trial is open to the public, but there are limited seats that trial junkies such as Clémentine (Laurie Babin) and Kelly-Anne (Juliette Gariépy) line up for daily so they can drink in every gory detail. Clémentine is a conspiracy theorist who thinks the gaunt, extraterrestrial-like Chevalier is innocent. Kelly-Anne is a psycho killer fan – a hybristophiliac, if you will – and at one point during the trial, dyes her hair blonde, puts in blue eye contacts and dons a schoolgirl outfit, looking just like the dead daughter of the parents she’s sitting behind. As she’s evicted, Chevalier looks up for the first time, smiles sheepishly and waves to her with a mild, knowing expression. The film’s less about the court case and the details of Chevalier’s deeds and more about Kelly-Anne and her obsession. The film works so effectively for the most part because of Gariépy. Her Kelly-Anne is in fact a part-time model and works out arduously, emanating the cold, detached demeanor that comes with the part. She lives alone, messing around on the Internet where we learn she’s blessed with the hacker skills of a Lisbeth Salander (“The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo” 2011), and even better at online poker, scoring buckets of bitcoin that pay for her posh high-rise apartment and schedule-free lifestyle. The concept of red rooms is a bit of Internet urban folklore, though the notion of such snuff chambers goes back to David Cronenberg’s 1983 “Videodrome” decades before the Internet bubble. The fact that they exist in Plante’s universe is all the more effective as a backdrop to Kelly-Anne’s enigmatic drive and obsession. Plante knows how to orchestrate a mood and dial up the stakes in small, unsettling shifts, in part by using an immersive score and sound editing. Along with Gariépy’s impeccable performance, “Red Rooms” spins up unspeakable horrors we see only in our mind’s eye. 

‘Joker: Folie à Deux’ (2024)

Joaquin Phoenix picked up a little golden statue for his 2019 spin on Gotham City nemesis The Joker (much as Heath Ledger did in 2009 for “The Dark Knight,” so it’s a pretty good Oscar gig), an origin story directed by “Hangover” helmer Todd Phillips. “Joker” shone a light on the fragile, fragmented mind of Arthur Fleck, abused as a child, steered wrong, isolated, lonely and seething inside. His alter ego became a manifestation of false leads and media hype for entertainment at Fleck’s expense, but also his defense mechanism. As we know from the death of popular late-night-TV show host Murray Franklin (Robert De Niro) at the end of “Joker,” Fleck gets the last bloody laugh, though “Folie à Deux” deals with Fleck’s imprisonment and trial for Franklin’s death. As we catch up, there’s been a made-for-TV movie about The Joker that has the denizens of Gotham riveted, so much so that Lee Quinzel (aka Harley Quinn, played here by Lady Gaga) commits herself to the same facility that Fleck is in, hoping for a meet-and-greet. The two meet during movie night; sparks fly, she gets him, he gets her, they need to escape and get away to a personal paradise, just them two – nothing an act of arson can’t broker. But the bigger deal is Fleck’s very public trial. After being smitten with Lee, he fires his attorney (a dutiful Cathrine Keener in a flat role) and decides to represent himself. There’s not a lot of true action in the film, and anything that has The Joker in makeup and dancing with malice-tinged merriment is an alter-reality where Quinn and Fleck, more often than not, break into song. There’s even one bit ripped from Sonny and Cher. Some of this works, but Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver can’t decide if Fleck is a Forrest Gump who transcends, a maniacal martyr or someone who got screwed by the system. Perhaps all three, and Phoenix toils arduously to shift gears as the filmmakers see fit. The awkward handling of mental illness and Gaga’s take on Quinn are other issues: She’s nowhere near the kitschy Harley Quinn of Margot Robbie in “Birds of Prey” (2020) or “The Suicide Squad” (2021); there is darkness, no question, but it’s not the infectious, high-energy of a Jersey girl but a dourness that doesn’t add up in the end. The film’s biggest hobbling is that its tonal and contextual (and textual) shifts don’t click. It goes out on a limb with bold bravery, and one of the most impressive things is Gaga and Phoenix doing all the songs on set, not in a sound studio; we know Gaga can crush it, and she does, but Phoenix holds his own for the most part and does a pretty neat tap dance to boot. But the bough breaks. 

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Short Takes: “Will & Harper” and “Wolfs”

6 Oct

‘Will & Harper’ (2024)

The Will of the title in Josh Greenbaum’s documentary is “Saturday Night alum” and Ricky Bobby portrayer Will Ferrell; the Harper is a longtime Ferrell pal and former SNL writer who has transitioned at the age of 61. One of the things Harper loved to do as a man was driving across the United States, stopping along the way to drink in various different quarts of Americana in their raw and organic state. The fear is that as a trans woman that might not be as possible. Ferrell, to support his friend, packs two collapsible lawn chairs into a classic old Jeep Wagoner and together they set off. Their conversations are candid, and Harper is incredibly forthcoming with information on the whys of transitioning later in life and the fears that come with it. That said, these two are funny together and know how to play to the camera. Ferrell’s celebrity brings unintended consequences when they go to a Texas steakhouse so Ferrell can try to down a famous 72-ounce steak (that looks like a grim, oily brick) that’s free if you can eat it in under an hour. He strides in with great pomp, dressed as Sherlock Holmes, which draws social media posts by those at the packed steakhouse – which mostly viciously target Harper. The gives pause not only because of the hatred on display, but because the film pushes matters where it feels unwise and even unnecessary. In quieter, more intimate moments, the relationship between Ferrell and Harper is endearing, as is Harper’s journey. It’s clear Harper is in a better, more comfortable place and had a solid support system to make the transition. Whether that translates for others is not explored by the film. Still, “Will & Harper” illuminates challenges, and it warms earnestly. Because of the stars’ comedic origins, there are some pretty well-earned grins to boot. 

‘Wolfs’ (2024)

The charismatic Brad Pitt and George Clooney have teamed up multiple times onscreen, as co-stars in those quirky “Ocean’s” heist capers to Pitt’s minor role in Clooney’s 2002 directorial debut “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind” and voicing animated characters in the movie “IF” this year. Here, in a reference to Harvey Keitel’s character Winston Wolf in “Pulp Fiction” (1994), they play cleaners hired by different agents to remove a body from an uber-posh New York City hotel penthouse. The MacGuffin that drives the film is a well-respected district attorney, Margaret (Amy Ryan), on her way home to her family one night who, for whatever reason, decides to stop for a drink that turns into a tryst with a young, college-aged kid. There’s barely foreplay when the fling-thing winds up dead on the bedroom floor of a suite that likely costs $10,000 a night. In a panic, Margaret calls a number a fixer-connection gave her and summons Clooney’s cleaner (listed in the credits as “Margaret’s man”). Minutes later Pitt’s grease jobber  keys in even though Margaret tells the knock at the door she’s all set, because he’s employed by the hotel (listed as “Pam’s man,” because Pam, voiced by Frances McDormand, runs the hotel) and it turns out there are cameras everywhere. After much back and forth about who’s going to clean the room (lone wolves like to work alone) Pam insists that the two pair up and just get it done. Job No. 1 is to get Margaret out of her bloody clothes and on her way home to hubby and family. That’s the easy part. Then there’s the body and the matter of four bricks of high-test drugs. The two are dragged out in the dark winter night to chase down a loose end and get the drugs to their owner, keeping the DA and the hotel out of the equation. There’s more gunplay as the film builds, though first comes one long and wild foot chase in which the two pursue a target clad in just briefs and socks through the snow-dusted night. At its core, “Wolfs” is a reluctant buddy flick that’s best when Pitt and Clooney are playing off each other through dialogue and one-upmanship. That works well in the beginning, before the film – directed by Jon Watts (of the recent “Spider-Man” films) – forms into an increasingly pat actioner with some unlikely twists. It’s a neat pairing of talent that could have used more bite. 

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Megalopolis

1 Oct

Francis Ford Coppola’s urban sprawl

In a single decade Francis Ford Coppola made not just one but four cinema-defining films: “The Godfather” (1972) and “The Godfather Part II” (1974); “The Conversation” (1974); and of course “Apocalypse Now” (1979). It’s a feat hard to beat, but since “Apocalypse Now,” which riveted audiences upon release and garners the adoration of each new generation of cinephiles, Coppola’s output has been less iconic. It’s varied from well-crafted S.E. Hinton adaptations (“The Outsiders” and “Rumble Fish”) to the purposefully idealistic (“Tucker: The Man and His Dream”), some lighthearted comedies (“Peggy Sue Got Married,” “Jack”), a megaselling John Grisham lawyer yarn (“The Rainmaker”) and of course his “Bram Stoker’s Dracula” (1992), all receiving middling receptions. Later in his career, there was work (“Tetro” and “Youth Without Youth”) that piqued interest but never quite went the distance. His latest, “Megalopolis,” is an ambitious, convoluted mess – pretty much a full-frontal mega-flop. To say so comes with great sadness.

Coppola allegedly pawned part of his vineyard and leveraged himself financially for this project, one he’s been incubating for nearly 40 years. From the insightful documentary “Hearts of Darkness: A Filmmaker’s Apocalypse” (1991), which chronicled the ruinous challenges surmounted to make “Apocalypse Now,” we know Coppola is an incredibly passionate and resourceful filmmaker. He’s bucked trends and gone it alone without studio funding before; in this case, maybe getting other eyes and thoughts involved could have salvaged something.

What’s the movie about? Platitudes and posturing on the future of and control over an urban micro-universe in the near, slightly dystopian future – something the current streaming series “The Penguin” does a much better job of. In this case it’s not Gotham, but New Rome, a city that’s closer to New York City now than any Batman-related project. Everything the camera homes in on is 1920s art deco, with much cinematic worship of the Chrysler Building.

In the opener, Adam Driver’s Cesar Catalina, a master architect and something of a nihilist Leonardo da Vinci, steps out on the ledge of the Chrysler Building to observe the activity below. When it looks like he might tumble off or jump, he shouts, “Time! Stop!” And it does. Everything but Cesar freezes – all the cars like ants below, birds in the air, the wind-pushed clouds and so on. With a snap of his fingers everything returns to normal. But even with such a gift, Cesar is not omnipotent, and he has many detractors, especially Mayor Cicero (Giancarlo Esposito), who wants to rebuild crumbling New Rome with casinos, corruption and cronyism. Cesar, head of the Design Authority, wants to build the utopia of the title, something that will “evolve alongside its people.”

Aside from his neat party trick, Cesar has a Nobel Prize for creating Megalon, a substance that can channel one’s dreams and make desires into reality. In an origin myth, one could see it leveraged by god or the gods to build Earth. In this case Cesar uses it to build an organic, ever-evolving city.

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