The Cocoanuts

Vaudeville is dead. At least in cinema it is. Some of today’s concert dog and pony shows can trace their roots to that antediluvian entertainment format, more so than most people today can imagine. But in movies it’s as dead as the proverbial doornail. And this movie shows why it had to go. That’s really what this movie is: filmed vaudeville. It presents a series of staged set pieces, some of them musical numbers of forgettable character, others comedic bits that are hit-and-miss as far as the funny goes. That’s rather surprising, given all that the Marx Brothers would eventually accomplish in later films, but here only some of the comedy hits the mark. It is also fair to say that the movie’s pacing is too slow, and the story does not generate enough interest to hold the viewer’s attention. Frankly, I got bored with this film before it reached its climax. All of those flaws probably didn’t matter much to audiences in 1929, who were simply astonished that actors in films could actually talk—but for those of us left here today, it all adds up to less than what we would hope to see. This film stands largely as an historical document, a work that shows how a classic group’s career arc started, but hardly the team’s best effort. Speaking of history, one item worth noting is how much of the plot—such as it is—revolves around grifters and shady business dealings, i.e., selling swamp land in Florida. It may be comforting, perhaps, in these days of the reign of The Great Bezzle, that it has ever been thus—and thus perhaps better times could come again. One can wish. As for the Marxes, one mostly wishes for viewers that they focus on later, better efforts than this one. 

The Company of Wolves

A tale, maybe not as old as time, but certainly from a while back, both this movie and the original story upon which it is based. At first glance this stylish production of the Red Riding Hood fable bears some similarities to the near contemporary film Labyrinth, but this work hews more closely to its well-known antecedents rather than presenting a story that is more of its own thing. That translates here to many of the old tale’s familiar, standard tropes coming through intact, and, as with many fairy tales, the piece is chock full of subtexts. Interpreting those is best left as an exercise for the viewer, but it suffices to say the filmmakers—including writer/director Neil Jordan, who later found big success with The Crying Game—put enough spin on the narrative to take it in some interesting, perhaps even provocative directions. This version of the story places substantially more emphasis on the fable’s werewolf angle, which is mostly only hinted at in the traditional versions, and it also suggests that maybe, just maybe, the wolf isn’t the bad guy after all. The look of the movie is great throughout, while the performances are mostly fine, including the young actress (Sarah Patterson) who features as Rosaleen, who starts off a bit off-putting but grows into the role by the end. (It helps that she’s quite pretty.) The flaws are few and minor: the film runs a bit too long, even at a relatively abbreviated hour and thirty five minutes, and one large casting misstep (the annoying boy) removes some of the story’s potential for interesting possibilities. Overall, though, this dog hunts. No need to stray from the path if you happen upon this piece. 

Coda

In this case, title case, not upper case. This is not a review of the Oscar winner from a few years ago; it's about a film with a similar title from a few years before that. With this movie, the title is perhaps more relevant, since the term refers to the end of a musical piece, and this story is about the tail end of a fictional musical master’s career. The plot summary for this flick could simply read, “talented old man struggles with himself”—and, as you might imagine, there are reasons why that would be a difficult sell for the majority of viewers. Luckily, the old man in question here is the exceptional Patrick Stewart, who gives a convincing performance as Henry, a legendary pianist who has had to deal with a bit too much and isn’t entirely convinced that he can take any more. Along the way Katie Holmes reminds us of how talented and charming she is, while Giancarlo Esposito provides more than able support as Henry’s agent and confidant. Further support comes from the music that is woven in throughout the story, brilliant and beautiful pieces that reflect Henry in his inner turmoil and in his moments of achieved calm and acceptance. No doubt, this film is not everyone’s cup of tea, but if you are in a contemplative mood, and open to some quiet, deep storytelling, this work will work for you. 

Charade

It’s like a sophistication overdose: Audrey Hepburn and Cary Grant, in Paris no less. Grant may have been showing his age a bit here in the early ‘60s—the very sly, witty script even jokes about it repeatedly—but he still brings plenty of suave to this offering, a charm offensive that perfectly complements Hepburn’s own considerable charisma in this ever-so-urbane yet never stuffy romantic whodunnit thriller. The City of Light setting helps pump up the cultivated atmosphere, providing a context that magnifies the stars’ natural qualities. The supporting cast of later well-known but then still-developing actors does excellent work in giving the top-billed characters strong but never overshadowing support. And that script really shines, with its steady peppering of snappy lines to go with its smart but not distractingly overdone story twists. Really enjoyable stuff that should receive any true movie buff’s stamp of approval. 

Conclave

You’d think I’d be put off by the sight of so many priests and nuns, but I guess miracles can still happen. In fact, this film is good enough to overcome any religious biases one might have. The story is fascinating, absorbing, entertaining, enlightening and and even somewhat inspiring in its faithful dimensions. The performances of the principal players are note-perfect all the way around, especially Ralph Fiennes as the dean in the titular gathering’s lynchpin role. And, last but not least, the presentation is a visual feast, with the spectacular scenery of the Sistine Chapel playing at least as prominent a role in the story as any of the actors. One might quibble that there’s a certain predictability in the plot's outcome—in the broad stroke, not so much the final twist—but that hardly spoils the full experience. Ultimately, this is as much a tale of ideas as it is a chronicle of any human actions, and it’s in those thoughts and concepts and beliefs where the work finds its fullest depth. The church may have gone astray, but there is, or once was, something that means a great deal to a great many, and this movie argues that a kernel of that core belief still has a place in this world. Must-watch stuff. 

Clueless

See, this is how I like my Jane Austen: looking nothing like Jane Austen. There is an argument to be made that this film represents the pinnacle, the zenith, the high water mark of American culture. The amazing script by writer and director Amy Heckerling, with its gentle, loving skewering of California Culture (and by extension the greater American milieu that took its cues from the Golden State), simply bursts with clever lines and visual jokes that mock yet also admire the relative innocence of the country circa 1995, back before everything here began to turn to madness. The translation of that script into greatness is powered mostly by an astonishing, one of a kind performance by Alicia Silverstone as Cher; she is the perfect embodiment of everything that was shallow yet wholesome about the country back in those long gone days. Cast mates Paul Rudd, Stacey Dash, the dearly-missed Brittany Murphy, Breckin Meyer, Donald Faison, Dan Hedaya, and more provide note perfect accompaniment to Silverstone's tour de force. And a terrific soundtrack of perfectly chosen songs sets the mood all the way through this journey of laughs and delights. Without a doubt, this is a Best of All work, and is only not included in the Top 10 of all time simply because there are just too many great movies to fit within that numerical framing, but this flick stands behind few other works of cinema, especially as regards comedies. Is it even possible to call oneself a movie fan if you’ve never seen this masterpiece? As if!

The Clan of the Cave Bear

I was a history major in college, but don’t ask me to account for the veracity of anything you see in this flick. Actually, this story is supposed to be prehistoric, so I guess that would put it into the anthropologist’s territory. Whatever. As it is, these adventures of Ice Age Barbie are mildly diverting, if not exactly exciting. Daryl Hannah does a decent job portraying the heroine, not that the script of grunts and gestures really makes big time demands on any of the actors. The most striking thing that I found in this representation of Paleolithic humanity was the large role that shame played in community relations back then (at least as they’re imagined here); one can’t help but think, from the perspective of these flamboyantly shameless times, that maybe we as a species unlearned something important. In cinematic terms, this movie is OK—nothing great, nothing terrible, interesting enough to hold the viewer’s attention but not artful or insightful enough to really foster any breakthroughs. At least when you watch it you can be thankful that your cave has decent heating and is lacking in murderous bears. Probably. Your spirit animal may vary. 

Cryptozoo

This is weird. I mean, my thoughts in composing this review are weird, in that I hardly know what to say about this movie—but “weird" also simply applies to the film itself. It’s an animated story about bizarre creatures, bizarre humans—who are perhaps even weirder than the cryptids of the story—and a series of events that comes across as the product of a truly stoned-out-of-one’s gourd mind. The story is strange to the point of being ridiculous, the animation style is, to put it mildly, eccentric, and the whole thing comes across as a senior thesis from someone who is a film major at the most absurdly liberal college in the solar system. So it’s unexpected, to say the least. I don’t want to be cruel, because clearly someone put a lot of effort and creativity, of a sort, into making this movie, so I won’t give it a HISS. But you have to be pretty stoned to see this thing ascend to even MEOW territory. Maybe, as the movie itself suggests, there’s a reason that mysterious creatures remain obscure and mostly unseen. Make of that what you will. 

Charlotte's Web

Believe it or not, when I was trying to get my children’s book manuscript published oh-so-many years ago, I kept running into a mindset that said that no one publishes “talking animal” stories anymore. They were—and perhaps still are—deemed passé, and regressive, and possibly even reactionary. There is perhaps no greater example of how astonishingly stupid that notion is than this movie, even with it being almost twenty years old as of this viewing. This seems like a simple story, but in fact it examines eternal truths, in a way that is accessible to all. The miracle of White’s work, which shines through in this adaptation, lies in using the form of a fable—a genre as old as stories themselves—to illustrate eternal truths about life and the world, both our human lives and our place in that world of other lives, including our animal cousins, and what this existence means for all of us, in all of its beauty, joy and sadness. This production captures that essence wonderfully, with a script that remains true to the original book, visual effects that are flawlessly executed, a tempered hand when it comes to the “updating” and “comic relief”—the jive talking characters and stunt casting are kept to a minimum—and an emotional tone that resonates without overstepping into something overwrought. I’m tempted to give this film Best of All status, but even without such accolades, this movie is must-see material. “Terrific” and “Radiant" hardly cover it. 

Casino Royale (1967)

Every spy movie has to have some sort of mystery in it. The mystery here: who the hell thought this was a good idea? I mean, it’s not like the legit Bond movies take themselves all that seriously, so how far can you really go in parodying them? The answer to that question is painfully evident here. Every so often this movie raises itself up and achieves a level of extraordinary stupidity; the rest of it is a mishmash of lame, incomprehensible, unwatchable, or some combination of all three. The only moment in the movie that is even within hailing distance of competence is the baccarat scene—and that’s the one part of the script that plays it straight! Otherwise, this is a bomb of staggering proportions, a film that is so bad it can’t even achieve "so bad it’s good." Seriously, I like a spoof as much as the next guy, but this...words fail. At least, as I struggle to find something good to say, I can at least report that a few of the women in the flick are great to look at. So there’s that. Otherwise, yeesh. Your mission: avoid this at all costs.

Challengers

In tennis, it is often the case that the hardest part of the match is when you’re trying to close it out. Thus, it makes a certain amount of sense that this film falters towards the end. That’s disappointing, because a lot of the way through this is a good, interesting and enjoyable movie. The principal characters are likable, until they’re not. Their romantic triangle and all of its interpersonal machinations are amusing, until it’s not. The tennis action provides a hefty dose of entertainment value...again, until it doesn’t. Indeed, what pushes this movie over the edge and away from a positive review is the ultimate on-court confrontation between the two male leads; the final match scenes are so drawn out, so milked for drama, that the opposite effect is achieved—the action becomes tedious, disjointed and difficult to take seriously. (And the final rally at the net goes on for a laughably long time.) That specific failure shows up a lot in the film, as director Luca Guadagnino clearly strains to make his picture highly cinematic, so much so that he loses sight of simply making a good movie. Other problems stem from the direction, especially the overuse of flashbacks to tell the story; the back and forth through time works for a while, but eventually it becomes a slog trying to figure out where in the timeline the story is. (It helps not that the characters throughout appear youthful, with little difference in their appearances even between the earliest flashbacks and the later scenes.) Again, there is too much attempt to be artsy at the expense of clarity and entertainment. Oh, and the relentless use in the soundtrack of eurotrash techno “music” adds to the annoyance quotient. Still, the movie is not a total loss; the performances are excellent, especially Zendaya’s work as the eye of the movie’s romantic hurricane; this may be the best performance of her career so far. Overall, though, this movie must be labeled a disappointment. While they may have been striving for a championship, all they could actually achieve was a double fault, at best, if not an outright disqualification.

Coco

Sure, “exposition” does sound a bit like a Mexican word. Maybe that’s why so much of this script, in its early scenes, comes across as pure explainer. Or maybe the filmmakers felt the need to spell everything out for what would be a largely unfamiliar audience. Whatever the reason, it takes a while for the movie to shake off that sense of teaching lessons and get into the heart of telling its true story. And heart is what it’s all about: even with cultural touches that come across as somewhat weird to non-initiated, the ultimate impact of this tale comes from the universal connection we all have to family, to memories, and to the same fate we all share. Only the most churlish can fail to be touched by the movie’s message of bonded love that transcends time. And, as an added appeal, there is terrific musicianship throughout the film’s many musical moments. All in all, un buen momento para todos.

A Cat in Paris

(English dubbed version) Normally, if you title your movie “A Cat in Paris,” or a cat in anything, I expect a film that’s much more feline-oriented and less about the human animals. As it is, the purring protagonist here, Dino, is almost a supporting character in this animated cinematic crime caper. The other half of the title, a nicely rendered City of Light, plays its part in the production, though not to the extent and with such impact as in, say, Amelie. Mostly, Paris is a presence as a set of rooftops for much on the action to take place on. The human characters are okay, nothing special; little girl Zoe and her mother, a police superintendent, are the core characters, while a friendly neighborhood cat burglar, Nico, provides some balance and intrigue against the family drama. Less successful as screen presences are the gangster Costa and his henchmen, who come across as thorough cliches of English criminal types. (Yes, one of them is German, but who’s counting?) Perhaps watching this movie in an English translation is the reason it left something to be desired, at least as concerns the dramatis personae. As for the universal language, the animated visuals, the presentation is interesting but hardly groundbreaking. Much of the imagery is rendered as flat and geometric, with the humans especially looking a lot like Picasso painted persons (except their eyes are in the right places). All in all, this is an interesting if not absorbing movie, effective in its storytelling if a bit cliched and predictable (as befits an animated feature; this was clearly made for children, so complexity is not on the menu). And there’s just enough felinity in the proceedings to push the overall impression into positive territory. Vive le chat, if not the rest of it.

Cars 3

I was hesitant going in to this viewing. After watching the first two in this series, I was ready to pump the brakes, if you will. Mostly, I pressed play to get the movie out of the way and off my to-be-watched list. And early returns—the first hour or so of the story—were not promising, offering only what seemed to be a litany of sports show cliches about the veteran player on the verge of being washed up. And then...something unexpected happened: a payoff came at the climax that was surprising and turned the story into something fresh and, dare I say it, downright noble. Part of the early hang-up comes from the movie’s focus, which is much more tightly fixed upon the milieu of stock car racing in this outing versus the previous installments. That’s not my territory, personally, so the start can be a bit boring here; it gets a little too deep into the weeds, as it were. Speaking of weeds, that is actually another of this film’s strengths: the visuals are beautifully rendered, right down to the blades of grass during Lightning’s backwoods training sequences. The world of the cars has never seemed more real than in the minute details that are shown here. And while the adversaries in this plot are not especially memorable, the characters on the protagonist side are exceptionally well played, including the memories of the late Paul Newman (who voiced Lightning's mentor Doc Hudson) and Chris Cooper filling a similar role as Smokey. It’s hardly perfect, but the ending feels so right that you can’t help but appreciate it. Not exactly an epic trip, but not a wrong turn, either.

Cars 2

Look, I get it: the Mater character is the most unique and identifiable persona from the first flick. But making him the focus of the sequel? Somebody in the Disney headquarters was really desperate to corner the yokel moviegoer market. As a result, we get this wildly uneven outing that drills home the grating nature of the Larry the Cable Guy-voiced character. Mater is a seriously one-note song, practically a drone of deep boondocks stereotyping. (An aside: not only do I personally find the character grating, I am eternally baffled by the character’s name. “Mater” as in Latin for “mother”? He’s clearly a male. Or “Tow Mater” as in a hillbilly pronunciation of “tomato,” ie. “tomater”? That barely rises to the level of “single-entendre.” Gah! The stupid, it burns!) Even if the viewer, in a spirit of generosity, obliges with a laugh or two at the rustbucket’s antics, that collection of slapstick and groaners is hardly an inexhaustible source of entertainment. The bit wears thin quickly, and thus it gets more difficult, as the story moves forward, to stay engaged with the film’s more complex plot (compared with its predecessor). Also not helping, the staggeringly predictable resolution of the story’s mystery (if it deserves such a label); nobody in the audience whose wardrobe didn’t come from Gymboree can fail to figure who is ultimately behind the scheme. On the other, more positive hand, the movie does do a solid job of parodying most spy movie cliches, including the very British agents and the generically continental henchman villain, complete with ostentatious monocle (on its windshield, no less). Another aspect for which the viewer can be grateful: the shift of venue from thinly-veiled NASCAR series to thinly-veiled Formula 1 circuit raises the class level of the racing scenes—a change that incidentally precipitates one of the movie’s real strengths: the CGI location scenery of Japan, France and the UK, including a gorgeous rendering of the French Riviera. The film looks like a couple-hundred million bucks, even if the driver’s seat, so to speak, is being occupied by a ten-cent character. I guess in the end you can achieve much success by relying upon the uncritical sensibilities of children (and their simpatico parents), but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to do better. This vehicle escapes a trip to the impound lot, but just barely. 

Cars

Pixar goes full redneck. One suspects this might have originally been titled “Cars Story” in keeping with its studio forebear, but that extra term in the name might have strained its target audience’s literacy level. For sure, I avoided this movie for a very long time, as I deduced from its upfront story elements—a thinly disguised NASCAR theme served up with a high degree of local yokel hi-jinx in a lot of the plot—that much about this work would not appeal to me from a baseline perspective. On top of that, viewing the film reveals another issue: a protagonist who is so relentlessly unappealing that it is hard to believe through most of the running time that the viewer will ever come about and actually root for him. Add to that some cookie cutter characters—including a few who would today probably fall under the baleful eyes of the identity crowd—and any number of predictable story elements, and it seems like this movie was just destined not to be my cup of tea, or motor oil as the case may be. No matter—the film found a gigantic audience anyway. And, I will admit, given all the above, it comes across as something of a miracle when, in the end, even the most disinterested viewer finds some redemption (and at least a bit of surprise) in the denouement. Add to that another welcome element—the movie gets the history of the impact of the interstate highways on small-town America 100% right—and there’s enough here for this film to earn a qualified recommendation. It’s no work of genius, to be sure, and in stretches it’s even a bit boring, but you don’t have to be ashamed of watching it, either. That’s about the the maximum praise this piece can get from this decidedly citified driver.

Cruella

Well, no—it’s not that exhausting rooting for the antihero. If, indeed, you do wind up rooting for her. That’s the tough trick to pull off in this outing: making a most iconic villain into something resembling a sympathetic character. It undermines the mission when, in the midst of these goings on, the henchmen start complaining about the nature of the lead character. It shows just how wide a span there is for this story to bridge. In this case, the program is helped a lot by Emma Stone’s work in the title role. She inhabits the personage to the maximum extent while still leaving room for the audience to give the well-known criminal a bit of a break. The rest of the rehabilitation is accomplished through transference: the movie introduces a new villain who takes up the mantle of vileness, and indeed, Cruella earns points by being the new monster's victim. It’s a fine line to walk, but it is mostly accomplished successfully here. As an added bonus, the film’s music—an aural travelogue of the 1960s and ‘70s—really helps put the viewer in a sympathetic (or at least neutral) mood. So does it all work in the end? Mostly, yes. All of the positives listed above, along with some fine humor and a solid (and admirably consistent) storyline make for a piece that, in certain respects, exceeds its inspiration and stands as a success in its own right. For once, Disney mined the back catalogue without going to the dogs.

Clerks III

Recursiveness lives in New Jersey; who knew? Apparently Kevin Smith did. One must suppose that the approach we see here was the only way that another reasonable work could have been wrung from the fabric of this already twice-told story. Obviously, Smith drew inspiration not only from his previous Clerks works but also from his own real-life experience, i.e. his very own famous health scare. That and other complications of aging are the propellants for this (presumed) last round of antics of Dante and Randall, this time taking the convenience store pair on a journey that’s nearly identical to that of their creator, not just to the hospital but through the selfsame experience of creating an autobiographical theatrical work, set in the same place but hardly the same time. It’s an interesting concept, one that evokes both memories of the past and inevitable comparisons between the disparate times and realities. While the results are not quite to the same level of zaniness as before, there are moments of comedy that work here, along some surprisingly touching scenes as well (mostly towards the end, for what eventually become obvious reasons). Overall, this film is a solid piece of nostalgia, an intriguing statement about things learned along the way, and a fitting denouement for some of independent cinema’s most famous and iconic characters. For longtime fans, and maybe even a few neophytes who never even saw the first two flicks (or any of the other View Askew movies), I assure you that this work is worth a look.

Cry Macho

An old man goes to Mexico in search of a boy and finds himself. And a rooster—so, you know, the usual story. And story it is here; this one is all about the tale and its telling, without much to dress things up. There are no special effects, little in the way of violence (a few rough scenes, but nothing like the city-destruction showcases that are par for movies these days), and only one body on screen who is recognizably a movie star: Clint Eastwood. He serves as lead, producer and director here, thus proving he still has plenty of life in him even this far along. Eastwood’s veteran status comes in handy with this flick’s direction; only an experienced hand would have the assurance to make such a restrained work in today’s environment. Then again, his experience also works somewhat to his disadvantage here, too. There are multiple scenes of women basically throwing themselves at Clint’s old cowboy character, as they did in movies multiple decades ago. An honest assessment would have to say that's a stretch regarding the lead's current appeal. Beyond that incongruity, the story relies upon some rather large-sized assumptions on more than a few characters’ parts—displaying either a fault in the source material, or perhaps the kind of loss of big-picture vision that can come with advancing age. Fortunately, most of the questionable stuff is overcome by that quiet, steady, confident storytelling, so the viewer ultimately experiences an absorbing if not riveting tale of broken people making their way to healing, if not wholeness once more. And kudos to the rooster, who plays his part with cocksure professionalism; hopefully he eventually escaped the broiler. If you’re in an introspective mood—and who isn’t these days?—I think this film fits in the recommended category. Take this trip; it's worth it.

Chicken Little

A disjointed effort. Most of the story in this movie is squarely focused on entertaining pre-10-year-old viewers, yet the music cues continually reference songs that were mostly decades old by this film’s release date--that is, they're tunes that were current long before the target audience’s dates of birth. So, these are songs for adults in a flick made mostly for kids--not exactly well-thought-out moviemaking. Where there are contemporary--that is, mid-aughts--references, they only serve to make the work seem that much more dated to today’s viewers. Add to all of that a plot that seems awfully thin, with a story that undergoes a jarring shift in tone midway through, and the end result is a film that just feels poorly constructed from beginning to end. Even a good voice cast could only produce a few good laughs out of this material. And the computer generated animation, while impressive in some respects, lacks any clear appeal for the audience beyond the basics of presentation. Bottom line: I think this movie had no real chance from birth. The sky didn’t fall on the studio with this one, but the atmosphere around Burbank was getting dicey once more right about then.