SYNOPSIS: In “The Smashing Machine,” a new sports biopic now playing on theatres, Dwayne Johnson plays former MMA and UFC champion Mark Kerr.
CAST: Dwayne Johnson, Emily Blunt, Ryan Bader, Bas Rutten, Oleksandr Usyk. Directed by Benny Safdie.
REVIEW: Dwayne Johnson leaves his well-honed action hero schtick behind, opting to emphasize UFC champion Mark Kerr’s vulnerabilities over the character’s innate violence.
Focused on three years in Mark Kerr’s life, “The Smashing Machine” begins in 1997 during the beginning of the wild and wooly mixed martial arts era. Former wrestler Mark Kerr (Dwayne Johnson) is an up-and-coming UFC star nicknamed The Smashing Machine for his no-holds-barred fighting style. “When you win,” he says, “nothing else in the world matters.”
When he’s not sticking his fingers in his opponent’s open wounds or pulverizing a rival’s face with his fists, he’s soft spoken and tender and likes to look at sunsets. His love life with girlfriend Dawn Staples (Emily Blunt) also thrives. “My big strong man,” she says, “I love you.”
As his fame blossoms on the Japanese Pride FC circuit, the work takes a toll on Mark physically and on his relationship.
As his body aches, he finds a high greater than winning through the abuse of painkillers. “A day without pain,” he says, “is like a day with sunshine.”
As growing dependence on painkillers pushes his relationship with Dawn to the edge and affects his performance in the ring, a shocking loss in Pride FC pushes him further into drugs, leading to an overdose. With Dawn’s help, Kerr looks for personal and professional redemption.
A cautionary tale of addiction wrapped in a sports movie, “The Smashing Machine” reunites Johnson and Blunt, who have previously co-starred in “The Jungle Cruise” and “Red One,” but the tone here is much different. The action comedy of their earlier films is replaced with family drama, but their chemistry is very much intact. Dawn and Mark’s relationship is rocky, but they have the vibe of a couple who have experienced ups and downs.
It’s too bad that the movie doesn’t spend more time with them, or, generally, enough time with most of the major events in their lives. It’s a story full of drama, but director Benny Safdie chooses to skim through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. Safdie attempts to mine emotion from the tribulations of Kerr’s life, but through a chatty, repetitious script that uses talk not action. The fight scenes are brutal, but brief (until the end) but the real fireworks happen off camera. It hard to shake the feeling that the movie’s depictions of Kerr’s drug use and time in rehab would have benefitted from more show-me and less tell-me.
On the plus side, Johnson delivers the best work of his career. As Kerr he delivers a real dramatic turn, aided by a terrific performance from Blunt and real life American mixed martial artist Ryan Bader who plays Kerr’s best friend and trainer.
“The Smashing Machine” is a step forward for Johnson but doesn’t really connect as a sports drama.
SYNOPSIS: “Happy Gilmore 2,” the Netflix sequel to Adam Sandler’s much loved 1996 golf comedy, begins with the sports legend in a bad way. “Remember Happy Gilmore?” asks newscaster Pat Daniels. “He’s making news on the golf course again, but not the good kind.”
Broke and unwilling to play golf after a tragedy during a tournament that plunged him into alcoholism, he’s a t rock bottom. When his daughter Vienna (Sunny Sandler) needs tuition for a prestigious dance school in Paris, he must pull his life together and pick up his old golf clubs. “There’s only one way to make that money fast,” says Happy’s brother Johnny (real life golfer John Daly). “Grip it and rip it.”
CAST: Adam Sandler, Julie Bowen, Christopher McDonald, Benny Safdie, Bad Bunny, Ben Stiller, Dennis Dugan, Kevin Nealon, Sunny Sandler, Eric André, Jim Downey, John Farley, Marcello Hernandez, Oliver Hudson, Scott Mescudi, Haley Joel Osment, Kelsey Plum, Margaret Qualley, and Nick Swardson. Directed by Kyle Newacheck.
REVIEW: There are probably more celebrity cameos in “Happy Gilmore 2” than actual belly laughs, but I doubt Sandler’s fans will care. A mix of heart, rage and silliness, it’s a familiar underdog story that captures the spirit but not the magic of the original.
Fan service is the name of the game.
A tsunami of flashbacks, callbacks and refurbished jokes from the original, it’s like a cover version of “Happy Gilmore” or an echo from 1996 emanating from the screen. The more familiar you are with the original, the more enjoyment you’ll wring out of the sequel. Casual viewers may be left in the dark, even though director (and professional pickleball player) Kyle Newacheck does everything possible to remind you of Happy’s former glories.
Still, at the heart of it all is Sandler. Almost thirty years later he’s still able to play the rageaholic Gilmore as a tightly wound col ready to spring at any time. “I always power my drives the old-fashioned way,” he says of his unique golf swing, “with rage.”
The intensity is good for a laugh, and he still has a way of stringing words together in the most insulting way ever, but there’s more to Happy than the temper that so often gets him in trouble. Sandler’s natural likability doesn’t actually smooth down any of the ironically named Happy’s rough edges, they are still there, but because of his sincerity he’s an easy underdog to root for. It doesn’t feel new, but it does have a certain amount of charm.
With its surfeit of cameos, returning characters and Sandler movie regulars, “Happy Gilmore 2” seems like the kind of movie that was more fun to make than it is to watch. Some will find it lazy, pandering to Sandler’s fans without offering anything new, but for hard core aficionados of Sandler’s 90s comedies, it’s a blast from the past.
“Licorice Pizza,” the new slice-of-life drama from director Paul Thomas Anderson, and now playing in theatres, is a very specific movie. It transports us back in time to Los Angeles circa the 1970s. Nixon is president. In Hollywood the Tail o’ the Cock restaurant is the place to see and be seen and gas stations face country wide fuel shortages. But against that specific backdrop comes a story ripe with freewheeling charm, nostalgia and universal themes.
Cooper Hoffman, son of the late, great Philip Seymour Hoffman, is Gary Valentine, a cocky fifteen-year-old actor with a blossoming career and a back pocket filled with get rich quick schemes. At picture day at his high school he spots photographer’s assistant Alana (Alana Haim). She is ten years older than him, but he’s feeling lucky and asks her out on a date. She agrees, but says it isn’t a date, just dinner. He takes her to hotspot Tail o’ the Cock and at the end of the night tells her, “I’m not going to forget you. Just like you’re not going to forget me.”
It is the beginning of a mostly platonic relationship that sees them drift in and out of one another’s lives, start a water bed business and navigate maturity. “Maybe fate brought us together,” Gary says to her. “Our roads brought us here.”
“Licorice Pizza” (the name refers to a defunct Californian record store chain) isn’t a movie overly concerned with plot. Instead, it relies on the characters to keep things interesting.
Newcomers Hoffman and Haim, (she plays guitars and keyboards in the pop rock band Haim), do just that. Each are magnetic performers on their own, she is all glowering intensity, he’s got teenage swagger down to a tee—“I’m a showman,” he says, “it’s what I’m meant to do.”—but put them together and sparks fly. From their first exchange in the high school gym to the film’s closing moments they win us over. In the movie the characters experience the first blush of friendship and love. In the audience we get to experience another first, the debut of two new, very promising actors.
Later, after the film, I found myself daydreaming that perhaps we could revisit them every ten years or so à la the relationship trilogy “Before Sunrise,” “Before Sunset” and “Before Midnight.”
Some old-timers get to strut their stuff as well. Sean Penn plays a riff on hard drinking actor William Holden with equal parts smarm and charm and Bradley Cooper pulls out all the stops to bring Hollywood hairdresser-turned-movie mogul Jon Peters to vivid, excessive life.
It is an evocative rendering of a specific time and place, but it doesn’t all sit right. In his recreation of the 1970s, director Paul Thomas Anderson includes two scenes featuring John Michael Higgins as Jerry Frick, owner of the San Fernando Valley’s first Japanese restaurant, The Mikado. In his two scenes he is seen speaking with an over-the-top, buffoonish Japanese accent in conversation with his Japanese wives, played by Yumi Mizui and Megumi Anjo. Both scenes stick out like sore thumbs. I imagine that they are meant to represent the causal racism of the time but they break the movie’s magical spell with cultural insensitivity that adds nothing, save for a cheap laugh, to the story.
“Licorice Pizza” is kind of flipping through a diary. Some details are intense, some glossed over, but everything is relevant to the experience being written about. Like diary entries, the movie is episodic. Each passing episode allows us to get to know Gary and Alana a bit better, and just as importantly, remind us what it means to be young and in love.
“Pieces of a Woman,” now steaming on Netflix, begins with happy, loving couple Martha (Vanessa Kirby) and Shawn (Shia LaBeouf) on what should be one of the happiest days of their lives. In the scene, shot mostly in long takes, Martha is in labor, minutes away from giving birth to their daughter. With their midwife indisposed a replacement named Eva (Molly Parker), unfamiliar with their case, is sent in her place. By the end of the twenty five-minute pre-credit sequence tragedy has struck, and their lives are forever changed.
Director Kornél Mundruczó sets the bar very high in the opening moments of the film. It is riveting filmmaking, intimately showing Martha and Shawn’s anticipation, pain and anguish in real time. The bulk of the film deals with the aftermath as the couple are driven apart by grief and recrimination and it’s very strong, but cooler in tone than the opening.
It is interesting to note that “Piece of a Woman” was originally conceived as character sketches by Kata Wéber meant for the stage. You can feel the attention to detail that was lavished on each of the characters. They are richly drawn and carefully portrayed by the actors.
A trio of performances tell the story.
Kirby, best known as Princess Anne on “The Crown,” digs deep to create a portrait of a person devastated by the loss of her child; someone whose world stopped turning that day. As she looks for closure, there is an intensity that comes from her rage and sorrow manifesting themselves as heartbreak. It is layered, emotionally-draining, award worthy work.
LaBeouf plays Shawn as an attention hungry husband. A man trying to move on by forcing his attentions on Martha and when that doesn’t work, he looks elsewhere. LaBeouf is a bubbling cauldron of frustration, about to overflow.
As Martha’s mother, an imperious woman hell bent on assigning blame, Ellen Burstyn delivers a tour-de-force monologue about the way mothers raise their daughters that could be a short film all on its own.
“Pieces of a Woman” isn’t an easy watch. The performances are raw, real and uncomfortable that exhaust and exhilarate in equal measure.
It has been a long time, possible forever, since anyone has written that one of the year’s very best movies stars Adam Sandler. Nope, it’s not a rerelease of “Billy Madison” or the director’s cut of “Happy Gilmore,” it’s a crime thriller from acclaimed indie filmmakers Josh and Benny Safdie called “Uncut Gems.”
Sandler plays Howard Ratner, a walking, talking raw nerve. A New York City jeweler, his life is a mess. His business is failing, he owes everyone in town money and yet cannot stop gambling. He’s planning on leaving his wife Dinah (Idina Menzel) for new girlfriend Julia (Julia Fox)—who also works in his store—and the damn security door in his shop is on the fritz.
Like all hustlers he’s always looking for the big score and thinks he may have found it in, of all places, the History Channel. After watching a documentary about mining in Africa he hatches a plan to get his hands on a rare Ethiopian black opal he figures is worth upwards of one million dollars. He has a buyer in NBA superstar Kevin Garnett (playing himself), who thinks the gem has mystical powers that will help his game, but Howard needs more cash upfront than the basketball player is willing to pay.
He’s trying for a win, the kind of windfall that involves great risk, but will the risk be worth it in the end?
Watching “Uncut Gems” is an exhausting experience. Howard’s jittery personality is brought to vibrant life by Sandler. For two hours he’s like a NYC traffic jam come to life, complete with the shouting and jostling. He’s the architect of his own misfortune, constantly in motion, bringing chaos to all situations. With handheld cameras the Safdies capture Howard’s gloriously scuzzy behavior, luxuriating in the character’s foibles.
Sandler has breathed this air before—most notably in “Punch Drunk Love”—but he’s rarely been this compelling. He brings his natural likability to the role but layers it with Howard’s neurosis, frustration, conniving and even joy. It’s a remarkable performance, powered by jet fuel, that, by the time he is locked in the trunk of his own car, naked, will draw you into “Uncut Gems’” dirty little world.
