I join the CTV NewsChannel to talk about the Bob Dylan biopic “A Complete Unknown,” the epic “The Brutalist,” the sports drama “The Fire Inside,” the unrelenting evil of “Nosferatu,” the office romance of “Babygirl” and the wild biopic “Better Man.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
Fast reviews for busy people! Watch as I review three movies in less time than it takes to do a high five! Have a look as I race against the clock to tell you about the Bob Dylan biopic “A Complete Unknown,” the epic “The Brutalist” and the sports drama “The Fire Inside.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
I join CTV NewsChannel anchor Scott Hirsch to talk about the Bob Dylan biopic “A Complete Unknown” and the vampire drama “Nosferatu.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
SYNOPSIS: Timothée Chalamet stars as Bob Dylan in “A Complete Unknown,” an intimate portrait of four tumultuous years in the life of the “Blowin’ in the Wind” singer.
CAST: Timothée Chalamet, Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Boyd Holbrook, Scoot McNairy, Dan Fogler, Norbert Leo Butz, P. J. Byrne, Will Harrison and Eriko Hatsune. Directed by James Mangold who also co-wrote the screenplay with Jay Cocks.
REVIEW: From the surreal “Rocketman,” that turned Elton John’s life into pop art and the self-congratulatory “Bohemian Rhapsody” to the monkey business of the Robbie Williams biopic “Better Man” and Brian Wilson’s introspective “Love & Mercy,” music bios come in all envelope pushing shapes and sizes.
So, it’s a surprise that “A Complete Unknown,” the new film chronicling four years in Bob Dylan’s eventful life, from Greenwich Village newbie to the enigmatic superstar who was booed off the stage at the Newport Folk Festival for playing an electric guitar, is so straightforward.
A story about the man who wrote, “The ghost of electricity howls in the bones of her face,” could reasonably be expected to take some stylistic risks à la “I’m Not There,” Todd Haynes’s metaphoric retelling of the “Like a Rolling Stones” singer’s life.
Instead, “A Complete Unknown” is more “Walk Hard: the Dewey Cox Story” than “I’m Not There” or “Inside Llewyn Davis.” The storytelling is efficiently linear (although not all together factual) without the kind of flourishes that Dylan regularly applies to his songs.
But the back-to-basics approach benefits the movie, allowing Timothée Chalamet’s tour de force performance to shine.
Dylan is one of the most documented people of the twentieth century, a man who has inspired a million nasally impressions, and influenced generations of musicians, and yet remains somewhat unknowable.
As a result, “A Complete Unknown” lives up to its name. When we first meet Dylan, he’s an unknown commodity. Four years later he’s the voice of a generation, the most famous export of the folk scene, but in many ways, he remains an enigma.
Chalamet captures the voice and the physicality of young Dylan but isn’t weighed down by the superstar’s legend. Despite his documented life, Dylan, the man, the myth, the legend, is basically unknowable. He’s a cipher; a dancer to a song only he can hear. Chalamet plays him as a mysterious, sometimes imperious guy and most importantly, gets the essence of what made Dylan the voice of a generation. It’s the It Factor, the Rizz, the elusive quality that is impossible to define, but easy to spot.
Instead of attempting to unwind Dylan’s mystique director James Mangold, who co-wrote the screenplay with Jay Cocks, wisely opts for a portrait of the time, the America and, in microcosm, the Greenwich Village folk era, that produced the singer. The Cuban Missile Crisis and the battle for civil rights indirectly hang heavy over the film, completing the portrait of the time that fuelled Dylan’s early work.
The songs, and there are plenty of them, most performed by Chalamet, are the product of these influences and act as a commentary on that chaotic period.
“A Complete Unknown” may not be revelatory in terms of its biography of Dylan, but it places the singer in context of his times, revealing a rich vein of history, personal and otherwise.
LOGLINE: Based on a true story, in “The Great Escaper,” a new Michael Caine-Glenda Jackson movie now playing on theatres, a World War II veteran sneaks out of his care home to attend the 70th anniversary commemoration of the D-Day landings in Normandy.
“He has done it before,” says wife Rene (Jackson) of her husband’s trip, “but then they were shooting at him.”
CAST: Michael Caine, Glenda Jackson, Will Fletcher, Laura Marcus, John Standing, Jackie Clune, Danielle Vitalis, Brennan Reece, Wolf Kahler. Directed by Oliver Parker.
REVIEW: This stranger-than-fiction story has all the hallmarks of a British against-all-odds, stiff-upper-lip drama, but transcends the “cheeky chappie” stereotypes and platitudes of those kinds of feel-good films with the performances of the late, great Glenda Jackson and eternal favorite Michael Caine. The story of a sprightly old codger cutting loose is deepened by the characters, a wartime couple who have rarely spent a moment apart since the end of WWII, and the film’s examination of loss, survivor’s guilt and screenwriter William Ivory’s celebration of growing up and growing old.
It’s heartfelt, but not sentimental. Jackson, who passed away months after filming, and Caine, who says this will be his last film, bring with them the lived-in mannerisms of a lifelong couple, people who have weathered life’s ups and downs, devoted to their lives together. It’s mostly in the subtext, but is summed up, touchingly and succinctly by Rene. “We have never wasted one second of our time together. We’ve only done, normal, little everyday things, but, by God we did them well. And we still do.”
Even though Caine and Jackson spend most of the film in separate countries, and are rarely ever in the same frame, their bond is the glue that holds “The Great Escaper” together.
Also touching, but again, not overly sentimental, are the interactions between Caine and fellow veteran Arthur (John Standing). The pair are strangers who meet on the way to the D-Day anniversary, but their common experience as soldiers, and shared psychological pain, give them a unique connection.
“The Great Escaper” uses the story to make a comment on the futility of war, while paying respect to those who perished. “What a waste,” Caine says, standing in a French soldier’s cemetery, as the camera pulls back to reveal hundreds of soldier’s graves. It’s a chilling and powerful show-me-don’t-tell-me moment that effectively uses images to make an impact.
“The Great Escaper” could easily have traded on nostalgia to tell its tale, softening the portrayal of the aging leads, but instead takes a much more realistic approach to make broader points about the lasting effects of war, our treatment of veterans and the risks of glorifying combat. It’s not a gritty film, but there is grit in the way it expresses itself.
LOGLINE: The Amy Winehouse (Marisa Abela) biopic “Back to Black,” now playing in theatres, details the chaotic relationship with husband Blake Fielder-Civil (Jack O’Connell) that inspired the internationally best-selling album “Back to Black.”
CAST: Marisa Abela, Jack O’Connell, Eddie Marsan, and Lesley Manville. Directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson and written by Matt Greenhalgh.
REVIEW: With all the depth and curiosity of a Wikipedia page, “Back to Black” attempts to tell the tale of a complicated artist who left a mark, but who left us too soon. Painted in the broadest of strokes, this sad story of sex, drugs and jazz is buoyed somewhat by Marisa Abela, who looks and sounds like the late singer, but instead of becoming a well-rounded character, Winehouse comes across as a walking, talking attitude with an impressive beehive hairdo and an alcohol problem.
An early scene detailing the writing of “What Is It About Men” hints at what is to come. Struck by a bolt of inspiration, she sings, “My destructive side has grown a mile wide.” It’s a shame, then, that “Back to Black” wallows in Winehouse’s self-destruction.
Director Sam Taylor-Johnson, working from a script by Matt Greenhalgh, tiptoes around many of the story’s landmines—the intrusive paparazzi, the exploitation she suffered by those close to her—to focus on the doomed romance with Fielder-Civil. “I need to live my songs,” she says, and her relationship certainly did inspire many of “Back to Black’s” songs, but the focus on her obsessive love, punctuated by the occasional musical performance, shifts the focus from the joy of making music to the story’s tawdry aspects.
Amy Winehouse was a singular artist, a fearless performer who made her own rules, and dug deep to create her art. So, it’s a shame her biopic is such a standard cautionary tale that skims the surface. Recommended instead is “Amy,” director Asif Kapadia’s 2015 documentary that carefully, and fulsomely, examines the life of a person who, as Tony Bennett says, didn’t live long enough to learn how to live.
Chances are good you have seen the extraordinary viral video of elderly London stockbroker Nicolas Winton, given a standing ovation by the grown survivors of the 669 children, mostly Jewish, he rescued from Czechoslovakia before the Nazi occupation closed the borders. Taken from the BBC television show “That’s Life,” it is moving footage that has been viewed millions of times.
“One Life,” a new biopic starring Anthony Hopkins, Johnny Flynn, Jonathan Pryce and Helena Bonham Carter, and now playing in theatres, provides the background of the much-viewed video and the man known as the “British Schindler.”
Based on the book “If It’s Not Impossible…: The Life of Sir Nicholas Winton” by Barbara Winton, the film toggles back-and-forth between 1987 London and 1938 Czechoslovakia. In the contemporary scenes Winton (Hopkins) is in retirement, puttering around a house stuffed with memories, paperwork and artefacts from his past. He continues his charitable work, still haunted that he was not able to save more children, while his wife Grete (Lena Olin) urges him to clear out the ephemera of the past and slow down. “Why would I want to slow down?” he asks.
Played by Flynn in the flashbacks, Winton is on assignment for the British Committee for Refugees From Czechoslovakia. In Prague, taken by the plight of the stranded children he encounters, the hunger and the mortal danger the impending Nazi occupation, he puts into motion the massive relocation of hundreds of children. Through money raising efforts, arranging visas and foster care, he spirits nine trainloads of children, through precarious circumstances, to safety in Britain.
The famous viral video, in which Winton is finally able to see, and maybe for the first time, understand, the results of his work, is recreated to great emotional effect. But even as his status as a national hero grows, he grumbles, “This is not about me.”
As the latter-day Winton, Hopkins gives a quietly powerful performance. It is empathetic work colored by the guilt Winton carried. “I’ve learned to keep my imagination in check,” he says, referring to the children left behind, “so I don’t go raving mad.” In a restrained movie, it is his inner work that bursts forth, making us feel the immense impact of Winton’s work.
“One Life” is a potent story of doing the right thing, trapped in a staid historical biopic, but given life by the emotional story and performances.
“Golda,” a new biopic of Israeli prime minister Golda Meir is not a cradle to grave look at the life of the first women in the world to serve as a head of government in a democratic country. Instead, the film, now playing in theatres, focuses on the eighteen days of the Yom Kippur War in October 1973.
Hidden under an inch or two of make-up, Helen Mirren plays the chain-smoking, seventy-five-year-old Meir with equal parts fragility and steeliness. Confronted with the news that Syrian forces are gathering on the Golan Heights, she convenes a military consultation with Mossad chief Zvi Zamir (Rotem Keinan). Ignoring his warnings of imminent invasion, she approves full-scale mobilization but rejects a preemptive strike, fearing the perception of warmongering would affect Israel’s access to foreign aid and military support from their allies, especially the United States.
My gut told me that war was coming and I ignored it,” she says. “I should have mobilized that night. All those boys who died, I will carry the pain of that to my grave.”
Told primarily in flashbacks— Israeli director Guy Nattiv uses Meir’s testimony to the Agranat Commission into the failings of the Israel Defense Forces in the prelude to the war as a framing device—“Golda” is actually the story of two battles, the Yom Kippur War against Egypt, Syria, and Jordan and Meir’s struggle with cancer.
Narrowing the film down to the Yom Kippur War allows for a focused look at those events but feels like part two of three of the Golda Meir story. A life of the magnitude and influence of Meir’s deserves and requires historical context. Watching the truncated story of “Golda” I found myself wishing for a more detailed account à la “The Crown,” but without the soapy elements.
The casting of Mirren was controversial—critics said an Israeli or Jewish actor should have been hired to play Israel’s most important female figure—but in Meir’s more intimate scenes, Mirren dives deep to portray the character’s many facets. Her eyes moisten at the reports of the horrors of war, she is resolute as the only woman in the room and, surprisingly, even humorous.
The film works best in Mirren’s scenes with Henry Kissinger (Liev Schreiber) and her assistant Lou Kaddar (Camille Cottin). Her cat-and-mouse with United States Secretary of State Kissinger is far more playful than you might imagine.
“I am first an American, second a secretary of state, third a Jew,” says Kissinger. “In this country,” Meir replies, “we read from right to left.”
The relationship with Kaddar is grounded in respect and trust, and in the little moments, like when she solicitously takes a cigarette out of Meir’s mouth as she is undergoing cancer radiation therapy.
“Golda” isn’t the definitive telling of Meir’s story. It feels a little too stage bound, a little too condensed, but the collective effect of Mirren’s intimate moments and the sound design by Niv Adiri that brings the battlefield to Meir’s war room, make “Golda” an interesting, if flawed, retelling of one of the seminal events of the 1970s.
“I don’t think they’ve invented a word for what Dali is,” says a friend of the famous Spanish surrealist painter in the new film “Daliland,” in select theatres and streaming on VOD. Indeed, he leaves behind a complicated legacy.
By the 1970s, Dali was probably the most famous living artist in the world.Treating life like one never ending carnival, he was as famous for the surrealism and symbolism in his work as he was for his celebrated up-turned moustache and public hijinks, like walking an anteater on a leash for the paparazzi.
This story begins in 1974 as the jejune James (Christopher Briney) becomes Dali’s (Ben Kingsley) assistant. The innocent, former art school student idolizes the painter, but, as he is thrust into the eccentric artist’s decadent lifestyle, he learns there is trouble in Daliland. “Sometimes It can be so hard being Dali,” says the artist.
Dali’s complex relationship with wife Gala (Barbara Sukowa) complicates both the artist’s professional and personal life. More about money than marriage, she is her husband’s mother figure and muse, but also siphons his bank accounts to fund the musical aspirations of her latest boyfriend, Jeff (Zachary Nachbar-Seckel), a singer best known for his starring role in “Jesus Christ Superstar.”
As James becomes embedded in the sideshow that has become Dali’s life, he becomes aware of the fraud and backroom deals that keep the artist’s coffers stuffed with cash.
“Daliland” isn’t so much a biography of the artist, even though there are many biographical details on display, including flashbacks to his younger life where he is played by Ezra Miller. Instead, it is a portrait of a time, of the moment when fine art became commodified and artists became marketers as well as painters. As a personality, Dali was, arguably, more famous than his work, but it was his celebrity enabled him to charge more per painting, and, ultimately dupe people into buying fakes because of the demand for his name.
Director Mary Harron paints a vivid picture of the cult of celebrity, and the price Dali paid for the quest for fame. A once revered artist, he died famous, but with a tarnished legacy. His commitment to life as the greatest form of art—the parties, the publicity stunts, the hedonism, self-mythologizing, etc—overshadowed his true gift, his ability to create truly unique artistic works. Add to that, shady business deals and money generating scams, and you have a colorful story tinged with tragedy.
Kingsley embraces Dali’s larger-than-life, “you’re in the presence of genius,” side, but never simply plays the caricature. His performance centers the outlandish story with humanity, and as the character ages, empathy for the man behind the moustache.
“Daliland” features interesting work from Sukowa as the fiery Gala and Kingsley, but does a better job at essaying the decadence of this pivotal moment in art history than providing a complete portrait of its subject.
