LOGLINE: A look into the sleazy world of 1985 Los Angeles after dark, the new DePalma-esque film “Maxxxine” stars Mia Goth as the title character, a porn star who gets a big mainstream break just as her sinister past comes back to haunt her. She may have left her past behind, but her past is not done with her.
CAST: Mia Goth, Elizabeth Debicki, Moses Sumney, Michelle Monaghan, Bobby Cannavale, Halsey, Lily Collins, Giancarlo Esposito, Kevin Bacon. Directed by Ti West.
REVIEW: Over three movies, “X,” the prequel “Pearl” and now “Maxxxine,” writer/director Ti West has constructed a weird and wild look at the movie business and the ruthless ambition it takes to become famous in that industry. From the beginning years of film, straight through to the excess of the mid-eighties, West’s films center on Maxine Minx and Pearl, both played by Mia Goth, who share dreams of stardom and a willingness to spill blood—other people’s blood—to become famous.
Each film is distinct in style and feel—there’s “Pearl’s” Technicolor splendor, the 70s slasher feel of “X” and “Maxxxine’s” giallo grit—and yet they hang together as a whole because of Goth. The characters Maxine and Pearl provide the throughline that binds the films together, despite whatever flight of fancy West places them in.
Goth does fearless work, her trademark toothy grin an uncomfortable beacon of menace amid the film’s scenes of brutal, grindhouse violence. It’s a wonderfully strange performance, a unique take on an anti-hero who is simultaneously alluring and repulsive in her burning desires. It is Goth’s committed performance in “Maxxxine” that ushers the franchise along to the kind of garish finale fans expect from West.
A star-studded list of supporting actors—Elizabeth Debicki, Michelle Monaghan, Bobby Cannavale, Halsey, Lily Collins, Giancarlo Esposito—add color to the story, but it’s Kevin Bacon, as a smarmy Louisiana private investigator who steals every scene he appears in.
“Maxxxine” is likely the end of Goth and West’s edgy movie trilogy, and it goes out with a bang. In crafting a character who is both victim and a villain, a woman shaped by her upbringing and unbridled ambition, West and Goth have created a “final girl” horror icon who gets her due, and much more, in the trilogy’s final film.
LOGLINE: Bobby Cannavale plays Max Brandel, a stand-up comedian struggling to co-parent his autistic 10-year-old son Ezra (William Fitzgerald) with ex-wife Jenna (Rose Byrne). Since the divorce Max has spiraled, his once thriving career is in tatters. When he isn’t on stage oversharing about his personal life, he’s living with father Stan (Robert De Niro), a plain-spoken man, nicknamed Pop Pop, who Max barely tolerates. “Pop Pop,” says Max, “that’s appropriate. He’s like two gunshots, one to the head, one to the heart.”
When a doctor suggests treating Ezra’s impulsive behavior with medication and special schooling, Max uses an audition for a spot on “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” as an excuse to take Ezra, without Janna’s permission, on a cross-country road trip from New York to Los Angeles.
“I don’t want him in his own world,” Max says. “I want him in this world!”
CAST: Bobby Cannavale, Rose Byrne, Robert De Niro, Rainn Wilson, Vera Farmiga, Whoopi Goldberg, Jimmy Kimmel, Tony Goldwyn (who also directs).
REVIEW: This fractured family story, while episodic in nature, is bolstered by two stand-out lead performances and a strong supporting cast. Fitzgerald, who is neurodivergent, delivers natural work without the precociousness that sometimes mars the performances of younger actors.
As Max, a jittery comic with a short fuse and a big heart, Cannavale hands in career best work that both captures the cadences of a seasoned stand-up and the desperation of a loving father who makes bad decisions.
Together, their work feels honest and raw, a perfect match with the film’s weather-beaten tone.
Outside the main performances, the movie thrives off the small details. The way Vera Farmiga, as Max’s childhood friend, greets him after not seeing him for years, is all warmth and cuddles. Byrne’s gentle interactions with Ezra provide welcome tender moments, even when she is faced with the difficult decisions surrounding the institutionalization of her son.
Less effective is the story’s tendency toward emotional exploitation. The film’s road trip may be its liveliest portion, but as it winds through to its conclusion in Kimmel’s studio, screenwriter Tony Spiridakis and director Goldwyn, unleash a cascade of emotionality that threatens to wash away the more interesting, perceptive family drama that came before.
The result is a somewhat manipulative, but heartfelt look at the extremes parents will go to get the best for their children.
In today’s fractured and polarized world there are few inarguable facts. Chief among them is that everybody loves “Jolene” singer and icon Dolly Parton. In our crazy, upside-down universe there is always Dolly, a fact embodied by the character Red (Krew Boylan), a Parton tribute artist and star of the new film “Seriously Red,” now on VOD. “We need more Dollys in the world,” Red says.
When we first meet thirty-something Red she is in a rut. She still lives at home with her mother and is trapped in a dead-end real estate job. Things change when she enters the office talent show, doing an impression of her idol Dolly Parton.
“She’s heartbreaking and she’s a poet,” says Red. “She knows who she is.”
Dolled up as Dolly, she sings “Nine to Five” and is an unexpected hit with her co-workers. Unfortunately, her behavior after the show gets her fired.
Sacked, but filled with confidence, she’s open to new opportunities when talent agent, and booker of tribute artists, Teeth (Celeste Barber) approaches her with an audition. With Dolly words, “If you don’t like the road you’re walking, start paving another one,” echoing ion her head, she aces the try-out. After convincing head honcho and Neil Diamond impersonator (Bobby Cannavale) that she eats, lives and breathes Dolly—“I want to make a living doing this,” she says earnestly. “I feel at home here.”—she is put on tour to play Dolly opposite a Kenny Rogers (Daniel Webber) sound-a-like.
Despite her family’s ridicule—“I managed to be normal while you are off on some wild sequined goose chase,” says her mother ((Jean Kittson).—before you can say “Hello Dolly!” she hits the road and learns the ropes about how to be Dolly and herself.
“Seriously Red” is a feel-good flick set against the backdrop of the ups and downs of show business. Sprinkled with mild laughs throughout, it can’t rightly be called a comedy. Perhaps inspirational character study about the difficulties of “being a diamond in a rhinestone world” is more on the mark. Either way, the engaging performances, including Rose Byrne as an Elvis impersonator, and Boylan, who isn’t afraid to let Red’s rough edges show through, go a long way toward selling the material, which often feels underdeveloped.
It is, I guess, ironic that Red learns how to be her true self while being someone else, but as Dolly, Red discovers that she is more than a blank canvas, that self-acceptance is OK. The movie is a little convoluted, and takes a bit too long to get where it is going, but the ode to embracing one’s own uniqueness is a potent message.
Marilyn Monroe is one of the most documented movie stars of all time. Her time on earth inspired hundreds of thousands of posthumous column inches, hundreds of books and a slew of biopics and documentaries, the first, narrated by Rock Hudson, coming out less than a year after her 1962 death. There is a Broadway musical and even videos games bearing her likeness.
It begs the question, What is left to learn about this Hollywood icon in 2022?
If a new movie, “Blonde,” with Ana de Armas as the “Some Like It Hot” star, and now playing in theatres before it moves to Netflix, is any indication, not much.
The film begins its 166-minute journey with Norma Jeane Mortenson’s (Lily Fisher) unstable single mother Gladys (Julianne Nicholson) gifting her child with a surprise, a battered photograph of a prosperous looking man in a fedora. That’s your father, the little girl is told. He is a very important man.
Thus begins, according to director Andrew Dominik, a Freudian lifelong search for a father figure, that would see her cycle through famous husbands like Joe DiMaggio (Bobby Cannavale) and Arthur Miller (Adrien Brody), both of whom she calls daddy in an annoying baby-doll voice.
In Hollywood, now known as Marilyn Monroe, she makes a splash working as a model before being sucked into the studio system in a flurry of casting couches, emotional auditions and the creation of her bombshell image, a look that sold movie tickets but didn’t resonate with Norma Jeane. “She is pretty I guess,” she says, “but it isn’t me.” At one point, she yells, “Marilyn is not here,” during a contentious call with her studio boss.
As her life spirals downward, accelerated by alcohol and pills, depression caused by everyone’s inability to look past the blonde dye job to see who she really is and career dissatisfaction, her life and career begin to fall apart. “She is not a well girl,” her make-up artist (Toby Huss) says. “If she could be, she would be.”
“Blonde” is an art house biography. Fragmented and often impressionistic, it attempts to take you, not just inside Marilyn’s life, but also her psyche and body. Dominik’s camera does offer never-before-seen views of Monroe, from the considerable nudity to literally travelling inside her womb.
But to what effect? The insights into Monroe’s life and career, that she was, essentially, two sides of the same coin, Norma Jean on one, Marilyn on the other, aren’t original, even if their daring presentation is. The film’s advertising tagline, “Watched by all, seen by none,” sums up most of the film’s message in a much more powerful, and mercifully succinct, way.
Dominik does create memorable moments, a nightmarish red carpet walk at the “Some Like It Hot” premier, for instance, visually conjures up the horror Marilyn must have felt as a reluctant superstar constantly in demand by people who wanted to use her. Less successful is footage of a missile launch to emulate the goings-on during a sex scene—most definitely not love scene—between Marilyn and JFK (Caspar Phillipson).
Dominik, who adapted the script from the fictionalized and controversial Joyce Carol Oates novel “Blonde,” does craft some interesting dialogue to bring Marilyn’s state-of-mind in focus—”Marilyn doesn’t have any well-being” she says, “she has a career.”—but he also includes some absolute clunkers, like the unintentionally hilarious, “I like to watch myself in the mirror. I like to watch myself on the toilet,” uttered by Edward G. Robinson Jr. (Evan Williams). That is “Mommy Dearest” level writing.
As Marilyn, de Armas is fearless, and does inhabit Monroe’s vulnerability and intellect, and looks enough like her to complete the illusion. My only quibble is that sometimes de Armas sounds like Marilyn and sometimes sounds like Marilyn doing an impression of de Armas.
I’m sure “Blonde” won’t be the last Marilyn Monroe biopic, but it will be the last one I devote three hours to watching. Not because it is definitive, but because I think that everything that needs to be said about the later movie star has already been said.
Richard joins CTV NewsChannel and anchor Lois Lee to have a look at new movies coming to VOD, streaming services and theatres including the virtual reality of “The Martrix Resurrection,” the coming of age dramedy “Licorice Pizza” and Denzel Washington in “The Tragedy of Macbeth” and the jukebox musical “Sing 2.”
After a few years of appearing in adult dramas, “Underworld” star Kate Beckinsale is kicking butt again. The former action star clenches her fists in “Jolt,” a hard-hitting comedy now streaming on Amazon Prime Video.
Lindy (Beckinsale) gets mad. Really, really mad.
Doctors believe her uncontrolled rage is rooted in a troubled childhood but whatever the reason, no one is safe from her wrath. Loud chewers. Rude waiters. Men who wear flip flops with jeans. It doesn’t take much to set her off.
She’s tried a laundry list of “cures,” but nothing quelled her murderous anger until psychiatrist Dr. Munchin (Stanley Tucci) outfitted her with a barbaric shock treatment that allows her to live a normal-ish life. Still, she could erupt at any time.
The shock treatment, Dr. Munchin tells her, is just one element of her recovery. She must reconcile her past, he tells her, work through her issues and maybe even date.
Reluctantly, she agrees to try some human contact in the form of a dinner date with an accountant named Justin (Jai Courtney). After a rocky start she discovers he’s the first person in ages she doesn’t want to beat bloody for the slightest infraction.
He’s sweet but unfortunately after their first sleepover, he’s discovered dead, shot in the head.
Heartbroken, she goes on a revenge bender while police (Laverne Cox and Bobby Cannavale) investigate her as a prime suspect in Justin’s untimely passing.
Dr. Munchin advises her to leave it alone, but she can’t. “Some people cry,” she says. “Some write s**t poetry. I hurt people.”
“Jolt” is a bit of blood-stained fun. Zippy, occasionally funny and empowering—“What is it with gross old men always underestimating women!”—it delivers the kind of neck-breaking fight scenes you expect from a movie about a person with violent impulse control issues. Director Tanya Wexler stages several generic-but-frenetic action scenes—a car chase, fist fights—but also manages to inject some life into a laugh out loud escape from a hospital nursery.
“Jolt” is what is often called a Refrigerator Movie. It makes enough sense as you watch it but later, while you stand in front of the fridge looking for sandwich ingredients, you think back and realize there are plot holes big enough for Kate Beckinsale to walk through.
The movie has enough jolts to keep you entertained for ninety minutes, but I’m not sure I am as interested in the set up to a sequel as the filmmakers are.
“The Jesus Rolls,” John Turturro’s revisiting of his classic “Big Lebowski” bowling alley character Jesus Quintana, is a story of bad decisions made and acted on but one can’t help but wonder is the worst decision was to resurrect Quintana in the first place.
The ride begins with Quintana leaving Sing Sing prison where he served time for what he calls a misunderstanding about indecent exposure in a public bathroom. Hooking up with his best friend Petey (Bobby Cannavale), he struts and swaggers his way back into trouble starting with the theft of a vintage muscle car. When Petey is shot by the auto’s owner, a hairdresser played by Jon Hamm, they hit the road, putting some space between them and the law. Quintana already has two strikes, another arrest and he’s going to jail and never coming out. Along for the ride is Marie (Audrey Tautou), a shampooist and the hairdresser’s former girlfriend. Their adventures, both criminal and erotic, begin with a visit to Quintana’s prostitute mother (Sonia Braga). “She’s better than no mother at all,” he says.
“The Jesus Rolls” is not a “Big Lebowski” sequel. The Coen Brothers gave the OK to bring Jesus back to cinematic life but Turturro opted to base his story on the freewheeling 1974 French farce “Les Valseuses” (“Going Places”).
Sequel or not, tribute flick or not, “The Jesus Rolls” is a gutter ball. As a character Jesus is best seen in small does. He’s a standout in “The Big Lebowski” because he’s an oddball in a film that celebrates oddballs. His two scenes are memorable, blessed with quotable dialogue and quirky tics—he licks the bowling balls before launching them at the pins—but a little of him goes a long way. He’s like garlic. One or two cloves adds flavor; the whole head is overkill.
“The Jesus Rolls” may share a character with “The Big Lebowski” but it has none of its charm. Despite a poignant performance by Susan Sarandon as a woman fresh out of prison and a well-chosen soundtrack, Turturro’s film proves that in the case of Quintana, sometimes less is more.
It’ll take more than a few White Russians to wash “The Jesus Rolls” down.
Edward Norton spent twenty years trying to bring Jonathan Lethem’s bestselling novel “Motherless Brooklyn” to the big screen. Lethem set his detective story in the 1990s but Norton takes liberties, adding new characters and moving the action to the 1950s, lending a retro “Chinatown” vibe to the proceedings.
Norton, wrote, produced, directed and also stars as Lionel Essrog, a gumshoe with Tourette syndrome and an obsessive-compulsive eye for the little details that solve cases. “It’s like I got glass in my brain,” he says. When Frank Minna (Bruce Willis), his mentor and only friend, is killed while investigating a case no one is surprised. His colleagues, Tony (Bobby Cannavale), Gilbert (Ethan Suplee) and Danny (Dallas Roberts), accept that death is an almost inevitable part of the job but Lionel thinks there is more to the story. He is convinced Frank was about to blow the lid off a conspiracy involving Moses Randolph (Alec Baldwin), a ruthless politician who clears out African American communities to make way for redevelopment. “There’s something going down,” says Lionel, “and it’s big, and they were not happy about what he found.” His sleuthing leads him to Randolph’s hinky brother (Willem Dafoe), community activist Laura Rose (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), and a tale of corruption, lust and power where everyone is at risk.
Norton has created a detailed noir with “Motherless Brooklyn” that, while engaging, overstays its welcome in a long, drawn out conclusion. Terrific performances (there is some capitol A acting happening here), effective dialogue and anxiety-inducing music plus great 1950s era flourishes (even if Baldwin does smoke a recent vintage American Spirit cigarette in closeup) entertain the eyes and ears but as Lionel uncovers clues we are drawn further into a rabbit hole of murky motives, many of which are left dangling by the time the end credits roll. It’s an ambitious movie that feels meandering and overstuffed with plot.
It does, however, have its high notes. Norton is careful in his portrayal of a person with Tourettes and while he may have an extreme case of the syndrome it is never used as a gag or a gimmick. Instead it’s a sympathetic representation of a person with neurological tics making his way through life.
As for Baldwin, it’s hard to not see echoes of his Donald Trump impression in Moses Randolph. He’s an aggressive anything-to-win type who plays the power game to the disadvantage of anyone who gets in his way. It’s a big, blustery performance and one of the film’s pleasures.
Gugu Mbatha-Raw brings both vulnerability and steel to Laura, elevating her from a plot device to a living, breathing character.
“Motherless Brooklyn” is frustrating. It contains many interesting, thought provoking ideas on gentrification, some nicely rendered scenes and fine acting but errs on the side of self-indulgence to the point where the audience loses interest in its machinations.
“Do you guys put the word quantum in front of everything?”
That’s the question Paul Rudd, playing Scott Lang / Ant-Man, asks in the new Marvel movie “Ant-Man and The Wasp.” Having seen the film I wonder why he didn’t speak up earlier, like when the screenwriters were scribbling about quantum physics, quantum realm, quantum void, quantum this and quantum that. These movies are supposed to be about a smart alecy guy who can shrink himself down to the size of an ant to solve crimes, not the Heisenberg principle.
The movie begins as Lang has just three days left on his house arrest following the events of “Captain America: Civil War.” Trapped in his apartment he has a strange dream. He sees Janet van Dyne (Michelle Pfeiffer), wife of scientist Hank Pym (Michael Douglas), mother of Lilly van Dyne a.k.a. Wasp (Evangeline Lilly), trapped in the quantum wormhole she disappeared into three decades before. Meanwhile Hank and Lilly are perfecting a method to rescue their loved one from the quantum hike she now calls home. Trouble is, they can’t do it alone. They need any information that may be trapped in Rudd’s head and money from a grubby bad guy. Time is of the essence as Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), a spectral presence who can walk through walls, also seeks out Janet’s quantum power to heal her cellular disorder.
From the kitschy sounding title to the size-shifting characters to the scientific mumbo jumbo that takes up much of the screen time, “Ant-Man and The Wasp” is a throwback to drive-in movies of the 1950s. It’s been updated with better special effects and more authentic sounding science jargon, but make no mistake, for better and for worse, this has just as much in common with flickers like “Attack of the 50 Foot Woman” and “Them!” as it does with the Avengers. Like the 50s b-movies that were undoubtedly an influence, this is a loud-n-proud genre film but like many of the Avengers films that are part of the Ant-Man family, it is marred by excess. Too many characters, too many story shards—a rescue mission, two sets of baddies chasing down the quantum technology, a romantic subplot, a family film angle—too much exposition to much quantum theory.
There is a funny scene about an hour into the movie where Michael Peña, playing Lang’s former cellmate and current business partner, recaps the story so far. It takes two minutes, is laugh-out-loud funny and completely negates the need for much of the exposition—people in this movie love to ask things like, “What have you done?”—that comes before it. Move that to the beginning of the film and they could have saved pages of dialogue and juiced up the film’s fun factor by at least fifty percent.
“Ant-Man and The Wasp” does plough some new ground—it is the first time a female superhero’s name is in the title of an MCU film—but feels scattershot in its execution.
