Richard writes about two rock ‘n roll rides that defined the anti-establishment era of the 1960s, John Lennon’s 1965 psychedelic Rolls-Royce Phantom V Touring limo and Janis Joplin’s loud-and-proud 1964 Porsche 356 C Cabriolet.
Read the whole thing in today’s Toronto Star!
Richard Crouse makes a Salty Dog, the perfect cocktail to enjoy while paying tribute to animal actor stars of “Cruella,” the latest Disney live-action reboot. Come have a drink and a think about “Cruella” with us!
Watch the whole thing HERE!
“Cruella,” now available in select theatres and on Disney+ with Premier Access, is an origin story that explains the reason why one of Disney’s greatest villains hates Dalmatians.
One eventful day defined Estella’s (Tipper Seifert-Cleveland) life. In less than twenty-four hours, the precious preteen with the distinctive mop of black and white hair, got kicked out of an upscale private school, snuck into a fashion show and thought, “for the first time in my life, I feel like I belong,“ and developed a lifelong hatred of Dalmatians. I won’t say why, but she does have a good reason to harbor animosity toward the spotted dogs. Most tragically, she lost her mother that same day.
Cut loose and alone, she lands in 1964 London. Falling in with petty thieves Jasper (Joel Fry) and Horace (Paul Walter Hauser), Estella (now played by Emma Stone) forms an impromptu family, pulling off scams using disguises designed and made by her own hand.
Still, she’s not satisfied. “I want to be a professional designer,” she says, “not a thief.”
Securing an entry level job at an upscale department store, she gets the attention of The Baroness (Emma Thompson), a cruel, imperious clothing designer who says things like, “Gratitude is for losers.” She is the undisputed matriarch London fashion and will crush anyone who gets in her way.
As Estella rises through the ranks, she becomes aware of a connection between The Baroness and the death of her mother. Until then, she believed she was responsible for her mother’s passing and had gone through the five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Now she adds a sixth stage, revenge.
“I’m starting to remember that you have an extreme side,” says Estella’s old friend Anita Darling (Kirby Howell-Baptiste).
Determined to ruin The Baroness, break her spirit, her confidence and her business. Estella creates an alter ego, the disruptive Cruella. In a series of staged public stunts Cruella humiliates The Baroness and becomes the darling of the fashion world. “Some call her a designer,” a TV talking head breathlessly reports, “some call her a vandal.”
As the “mad, bad and just a little bit sad” Cruella’s antics escalate, Estella’s personality grows fainter. “I’m not sweet Estella, try as I might. I’m Cruella.”
“Cruella” has lots going for it. Great costume design, a rippin’ soundtrack and arch attitude, but by the time the end credits roll, it is all about the dueling Emmas, Stone and Thompson.
“Wow,” says Cruella. “You really are a psycho. “How nice of you to say,” The Baroness snaps back.
Both hand in flamboyant performances that capture the wickedly humorous tone of the story.
Stone’s performance straddles the line between her two characters as Estella’s attempts to fit into the regular world fade, as bits and pieces of Cruella’s anything goes mentality filter through until she goes full-on baddie. The punk rock-glam inspired clothes help in the transformation, but the heart comes from Stone, who does something difficult, bring a tragic heart to a villain.
As The Baroness, Thompson is the is the Queen of the Side Eye. It’s a wonderfully comedic performance, equal parts disdain, evil and ridiculous, she redefines arrogance. Think “The Devil Wears Prada” with a sharper edge. It’s the kind of work you want to watch at least twice to catch all the small bits of business she weaves into the performance.
Propelled by the performances and a music-heavy soundtrack featuring everything from The Doors and Nina Simone to Iggy & The Stooges (this must be the first Disney film to feature the proto-punk tune “I Wanna Be Your Dog”) and Tina Turner, “Cruella” rocks along at a clip until it loses steam near the end as it prepares itself for the sequel.
Until then, however, “Cruella” is the most audacious of the recent live action reimaginings of a classic Disney character.
“Moby Doc,” now streaming on Hot Docs virtual cinema, is a raw and surreal look at the life of EDM superstar musician Moby. From living in a squat and struggling with drugs to animating the car accident that took his father’s life and championing animal rights, it goes beyond warts-and-all to reveal an artist who says his biggest successes corrupted him.
Narrated and hosted by Moby and directed and edited by Rob Bravler, the film is a fairly linear look at the musician’s life, from his troubled early years in Harlem, New York to the conversation with Death, à la Ingmar Bergman, that closes the movie.
In between is the kind of honesty not usually found in authorized music biographies. The details of debauchery that followed his greatest success, the 1999 double-platinum album “Play,” are as sordid as anything you’d find in a Mötley Crüe tell-all—for instance, he woke up after group sex covered in poop!—but it isn’t the usual road weary tales of groupies and dangerous drug use that makes “Moby Doc” compelling.
Using re-enactments—from the Childhood Trauma Players, no less—interviews, animation and archival footage, the film peels away the shiny veneer of most music docs to reveal a quest for the happiness that has always eluded him. It’s kind of a road movie, a journey through a troubled childhood, punk rock, worldwide success and the trappings of money. What seems to be missing is the destination, a place far away from the trauma that shaped him and drives him.
“The reason we try and get people to see us in exalted lights,” he says, “is because deep down we don’t like ourselves. We’re ashamed of ourselves. We assume that if anyone looks too closely, they’ll be repelled.”
If that is true, Moby doesn’t seem to care. Honesty and self-depreciation are his goal here. Reports of suicide attempts, sit alongside tales of excess and family stories, coming together to create a surreal and self-aware movie that is as up-close-and-personal as it gets in terms of celebrity film portraiture.
The story in “Blue Miracle,” an against-all-odds new movie now streaming on Netflix, seems too good to be true, but it is based on real events.
The story begins at Casa Hogar, a boy’s home in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Hit hard by Hurricane 0dile in 2014 and in desperate need of money, caretaker Omar (Jimmy Gonzales), with the orphaned boys he looks after in tow, enters Bisbee’s Black & Blue Tournament, a fishing competition with a huge cash prize. With no boat, or fishing experience, Omar teams with a crusty local Wade (Dennis Quaid), the captain of a charter fishing boat called the Knot Enough. Wade won the tournament in the past, and having fallen on bad times, reluctantly agrees to allow Omar and kids on board.
In an effort to not reveal any plot twists, I’ll stop here. Just know that there aren’t really any plot twists and “Blue Miracle” plays out pretty much the way you think it is going to, which is heavy on the heartstring tugging with a dollop of family-friendly conflict.
What it lacks in surprises, it makes up for in inspirational messaging. From the title on down—the word “miracle” gives away the game—the movie threatens to be washed away on a tidal wave of good feelings. And that’s OK. “Blue Miracle’s” motives are pure. It wants to raise awareness for Casa Hogar, which is still there but not benefitting financially from this film, and provide a ninety-minutes of entertainment for the whole family.
Edgy, it is not, although Quaid’s take on Wade is crispier than a freshly fried piece of cod. He’s the stereotypical cantankerous old guy with a heart of gold you often find in movies like this and while Quaid doesn’t reinvent the grumpy Gus character, he at least seems to be enjoying being on the water in the sunshine.
“Blue Miracle” is a new story but its insistence on sticking to a feel good formula makes it feel like déjà vu.
Richard Crouse makes a Corpse Reviver Number 2, the perfect cocktail to enjoy while having a drink and a think about “Army of the Dead,” the new zombie movie from director Zach Snyder.
Watch the whole thing HERE!
The first twenty minutes of “Army of the Dead,” the new Zach Snyder movie now streaming on Netflix, are a blood pumping—and squirting—good time.
In the film’s opening minutes a car careens into a military transport carrying “some Area 51” style cargo. Turns out the “cargo” is a bullet-dodging, bloodthirsty undead creature who quickly lays waste to the security detail guarding the truck, turning them into zombies with a quick chomp or two.
The undead plague quickly spreads. Hardest hit is Las Vegas, which goes into the ultimate lowdown. Walled off to keep the zombies in, Sin City is now the Undead Capital of the World.
Into this mix comes Dave Bautista as Scott Ward, soulful badass and leader of a rag tag team of misfits hired by a wealthy casino owner to infiltrate Vegas, and steal a safe full of cash. The only problem? The hundreds of well-organized zombies between them and the money.
Snyder brings the undead to vivid life in the prologue that sets the stage in an eye-popping (sometimes literally) way and if the entire movie was as inventive as the first twenty minutes, “Army if the Dead” would be a thrilling, darkly funny rollercoaster ride. But once the movie becomes a hybrid of “Oceans 11” and “World War Z” the exuberance fades in favor of more standard zombie fare.
Still, there are some innovations to the genre. There’s a lovesick zombie, undead tigers—because it wouldn’t be Las Vegas without one of Siegfried & Roy’s big cats—and zombie Cirque du Soleil contortionists. Beyond that “Army of the Dead” stays true to the conventions of the zombie and heist genres, filtered Snyder’s grim anyone-can-die-at-any-time sensibility.
One major shift from typical zombie lore, however, works well. Zombie king Zeus (Richard Cetrone) is as bloodthirsty as you might imagine, but he also has the capacity for love. It’s a new twist that gives his character more depth, giving him a motivation beyond the usual mindless hunger for humans.
Is “Army of the Dead” scary? Not really. Gross? For sure. There’s enough fake blood here to fill the Dead Sea but as stylish as the slo-motion CGI plasma sprays are, the movie, at 148 minutes it feels overlong and is a bit too deliberately paced. The zombies are cool and slightly more advanced than usual, but, unfortunately, the over-all story isn’t as evolved.
“Trigger Point,” a new action movie starring Barry Pepper and now on VOD, is stylish looking and features good actors but suffers from a bad case of been there, done that.
Pepper is Lewis, a retiree leading a quiet life in a quiet upstate New York town. His days are spent at the local diner, flirting with waitress Janice (Nazneen Contractor) and sipping tea at the quaint local book store.
His home life, however, isn’t so quaint. His cabin-in-the-woods is a veritable fortress, complete with high tech surveillance gear and drone security.
Turns out Lewis is actually Nicolas Shaw, a former superspy for a shady operation called The Agency. In hiding after his actions resulted in the assassinations of his entire team, he’s brought back into the dangerous world of international intrigue by his former handler Elias Kane (Colm Feore).
Kane’s daughter Monica (Eve Harlow) has been kidnapped by the shadowy figure who may have been responsible for the methodical murder of Shaw’s team.
So, just when he thought he was out, Shaw is dragged back to the underworld to rescue Monica and search down the man responsible for his professional and personal undoing.
“Trigger Point” director Brad Turner has a long and varied list of television credits, including episodes of “MacGyver,” “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” and “Hawaii Five-O.” He knows how to shoot action and where to put the camera so the movie looks good when the bullets are flying.
He’s also good at casting interesting looking, solemn-faced actors like Pepper, Feore and Carlo Rota, all of whom have tread this territory before.
It’s in the storytelling that things go south. Weighed down by tough guy banalities, there is very little in “Trigger Point” that we haven’t seen before and done better. The actors breathe whatever life they can into this collection of clichés but no amount of grim determination can elevate this above the level of a forgettable direct to video time waster.
“The Retreat,” now streaming on VOD, is a survivalist horror film that sees big city couple Renee (Tommie-Amber Pirie) and Valerie (Sarah Allen) out of their element and fighting for their lives in the remote countryside.
Renee and Valerie are at the, “If this isn’t going anywhere you have to let me know,” stage of their relationship. Valerie wants to go to the next level, Renee is elusive. Affectionate but noncommittal. “I’m trying to talk to someone who clearly has trouble with adult conversation and avoiding conflict,” Valerie says.”
A weekend away at a cabin with friends seems like the tonic their relationship needs, but doesn’t turn out as planned. They arrive to find the place deserted with no sign of friends Connor (Chad Connell) and Scott (Munroe Chambers). Alone in unfamiliar surroundings, the couple stumble across some unsettling signs. They hear sounds in the woods and a deer’s head strung between two trees unnerves Valerie but Renee, who used to hunt with her family, is less freaked out. “We were there to reduce the population by selective slaughter,” she says, foreshadowing an inner strength that will soon come in handy.
As darkness falls, they are convinced someone is watching from the woods and soon they’re in a battle for their lives against militant extremists determined to kill them simply because they are “different.” “Time to cull,” says killer Gavin before the axes start swinging.
Played out over a tight 82 minutes, “The Retreat” doesn’t waste time in setting up its characters and situation. Building atmosphere and a sense of tension through the remote setting and strain between Valerie and Renee, director Pat Mills gets down to business quickly, amping up the eeriness with jump scares and an eerie soundtrack.
These scenes are effective enough, although once the darkness hits, physically and metaphysically, the film itself goes dark with low light photography that sometimes makes it hard to see what’s happening.
So far, it’s a typical cabin-in-the-woods set-up but with one major difference.
What sets “The Retreat” apart from other rural survivalist films is its subtext. Horror is not often kind to LGBTQ+ characters, treating them as villains or killing them off soon after the opening credits have roiled. Here they are front and center. Hunted by a group of heavily armed losers simply because of who they are, Renee and Valerie fight back.
“The Retreat” is a welcome twist on the survival genre from a queer director and female screenwriter that mixes anxiety, horror and empowerment.
