In “Rustin,” a new reverential historical drama now streaming on Netflix, Emmy Award winner Colman Domingo plays Bayard Rustin, a gay Black man whose vision and tenacity had an outsized effect on the Civil Rights Movement. He’s been largely forgotten by history but “Rustin,” produced by Barack and Michelle Obama’s production company Higher Ground, serves as a potent reminder of his activist legacy.
The story of the run-up to 1963’s March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom and the famous “I Have a Dream” speech, “Rustin” sets the stage with harrowing images of 1950s segregation.
Cut to 1960 and a plan between Rustin and Reverend Martin Luther King Jr’s. (Aml Ameen) to launch a protest march on the Democratic National Convention. The plan is thwarted by U.S. Congressman Adam Clayton Powell Jr’s. (Jeffrey Wright) threat of a misinformation campaign, linking the two men romantically. Powell’s allegation, while untrue, causes a rift between the two men that sees Rustin kicked to the curb.
Three years later Rustin hatches another plan, a massive, non-violent march on Washington to pressure the Kennedy administration to initiate a strong federal civil rights bill in Congress.
With little to no support from DC’s power base, due to racism, his former communist membership and his sexuality—“When it comes to the old guard,” he says, “I’m considered a pariah.”—Rustin seeks support from his estranged friend King. “Do this Dr. King,” he says. “Own your power.”
The next eight tumultuous weeks find Rustin balancing his personal life—an affair with married preacher Elias (Johnny Ramey)—and his work with King and their band of “angelic troublemakers” as they arrange one of the largest political rallies for human rights in United States history. “On August 28,” he says, “Black, white, young, old, rich, working-class, poor will descend on Washington, DC.”
“Rustin” tells the story of a landmark moment in the battle for Civil Rights, but this isn’t just a history lesson. It’s really is a character study of the charming, driven man who made it happen.
The movie itself is stagey and straightforward, prone to grandstanding with an over-reliance on exposition, but it comes alive whenever the charismatic Domingo is on screen.
As portrayed in the film, Rustin is a powerhouse, a man predisposed to challenging authority, to giving voice to hard truths, to never backing down. Domingo inhabits him, embracing the strength to never apologize for who he is or his quest for justice and equality. “On the day I was born Black, I was also born homosexual. They either believe in justice and freedom for all, or they do not,” he rails against his detractors. It’s a muscular, timely performance that makes up for the film’s other shortcomings.
By times, “Rustin” feels rushed. Several scenes end prematurely and without explanation, giving the film an odd rhythm. But, the final moments as the march comes to life, are moving, empowering and pack an emotional punch, as does the portrait of a behind the scenes trailblazer and hero.
I join NewsTalk 1010’s Jim Richards on the coast to coast “NewsTalk Tonight” to have a look at Chris Rock’s much delayed response to the Will Smith slap heard ’round the world.
“Amsterdam,” a quirky new film starring John David Washington, Margot Robbie and Christian Bale and now playing in theatres, is a convoluted story fueled by everything from fascism and birding to murder and music. If there ever was an example of a film that could have benefitted from the KISS rule, Keep It Simple Silly, this is it.
The madcap tale begins in 1933 New York City. WWI vet Dr. Burt Berendsen (Christian Bale), once a Park Avenue physician, he now runs a downtown clinic where he caters to the needs of soldiers who came back from the war broken and in pain.
When Berendsen and his best friend, fellow vet and lawyer Harold Woodsman (John David Washington), are hired by Liz Meekins (Taylor Swift), the daughter of their beloved commanding officer, to ascertain the cause of his death, they are drawn into a murder mystery involving secret organizations, ultra-rich industrialists and a crusty Marine played by Robert DeNiro.
In a flashback to the final days of WWI, we learn their backstory and meet Valerie (Margot Robbie), a nurse who treats their wounds, physically and mentally. As a trio, they swear allegiance to one another during an extended bohemian get-a-way in Amsterdam, a city that becomes a metaphor for freedom and friendship.
Reviewing “Amsterdam” stings. The production is first rate, from Academy Award nominated director David O. Russell, to the a-list cast to the ambitious script that attempts to link events of the past to today’s headlines. But, and this is what stings, the film is definitely less than the sum of its parts.
From the off-kilter tone, part screwball, part deadly serious, to the glacial pacing, which makes the already long two-hour-and-fifteen-minute running time seem much longer, and the script, which casts too wide a wide net in hope of catching something compelling, “Amsterdam” flails about, lost in its own ambition. This is the kind of story, it’s easy to imagine, the Coen Brothers could make look effortless, but Russell does not stick the landing.
He does, however, forward some lovely ideas about embracing kindness and the full experience of being alive, but even those are muddied by the inclusion of heavy-handed, and not particularly original, warnings about domestic terrorism and authoritarianism. Ideas get lost in a sea of exposition and narration, that not even these interesting actors can bring to life.
There may be an interesting story somewhere within “Amsterdam,” but it is hidden, lost in the movie’s epic ambitions.
Richard makes a Bloody Mess, the perfect cocktail to enjoy while having a drink and a think about “Spiral: From the Book of Saw,” the latest chapter in the “Saw” franchise.
“And Justice for All,” the last four words of the American Pledge of Allegiance, sum up the dynamic of “Spiral: From the Book of ‘Saw,’” the ninth instalment of the “Saw” franchise, now playing in theatres.
On one hand you have a murderer dispensing their own brand of justice; inventively slaughtering people who have broken a twisted moral code known only to the killer. For instance, a detective who has lied on the stand many times, is given the choice, provide justice by tearing out his own lying tongue, or be killed. “Live or die. Make your choice.”
Then, there are the police who must use more traditional means to enforce their brand of justice.
It might not be exactly what Congress had in mind, but in the “Saw” universe there is more than one definition of the word justice.
Chris Rock is Zeke Banks, an idealistic-but-disillusioned big city detective trying to get out from under the shadow of his father Marcus (Samuel L. Jackson), a decorated, hero cop and retired police chief. When Zeke and his partner, an eager rookie named William Shenk (Max Minghella), catch an unusual, grisly case, the game is afoot.
Literally.
A new serial killer, playing from the same gamebook as the notorious villain Jigsaw, who put his victims through deadly scenarios he referred to as “games” or “tests,” is terrorizing the city’s dirty cops, looking to avenge wrongs perpetrated by the South Metro Police and “reform” the department. “A Jigsaw copycat,” says Marcus. “That could be difficult.”
As the bodies pile up Zeke suspects the killer isn’t just playing around, that he has another motive. Something personal.
After eight instalments of the “Saw” franchise, countless deadly traps and one iconic baddie, “Spiral” finds a newish way in to tell an old story. Billy the Puppet and Jigsaw are gone, as is much of the gore that splattered the screen in earlier incarnations of the series. They’ve been replaced with a timely but underdeveloped subtext regarding police corruption and the addition of humor, an element often sorely lacking from previous instalments.
Directed by Darren Lynn Bousman, who helmed the second, third and fourth “Saw” movies, “Spiral” is as character based as it is consequence based. Bousman, and “Jigsaw” screenwriters Josh Stolberg and Pete Goldfinger, have dialed back the grim stuff. There are still enough traps and gore to keep “Saw” purists happy—there’s a finger ripping machine and some nasty hot wax—but an increased emphasis on character raises the stakes so the gory stuff has more impact. It’s still a horror film, but Bousman structures it like a thriller, even if his reliance on flashbacks and exposition mutes some of the thrills.
There’s also loads of uninspired hard-boiled dialogue and lots of yelling but also just enough of the nasty stuff and deadly game playing to keep fans satisfied.
The spiral logo that gives the movie its name is supposed to be emblematic of change and progress, but the movie doesn’t quite live up to the symbol’s meaning. It shakes some of the dust off the old franchise without reinventing it or doing justice to it.
You may not actually die laughing from watching the new talking head documentary “Dying Laughing” but you will get a closer look into the psyche of the people who stand on stages to make us laugh.
The premise is simple. Directors Paul Toogood and Lloyd Stanton have assembled a who’s who of comedians—Chris Rock, Kevin Hart, Jerry Seinfeld, Amy Schumer, Sarah Silverman, Billy Connelly and Garry Shandling to name just a fraction of the faces represented here—to discuss what it is like to be a comic. One after the other, in front of a white screen, they tell the kind of stories about being on the road, about bombing and how to deal with hecklers that you imagine comics only share with one another in seedy hotel rooms and backstage at gigs.
Occasionally revealing—being a comedian is “too painful and difficult if it isn’t a calling,” says Shandling while Seinfeld clarifies that it isn’t audience approval he wants but audience sublimation—occasionally funny, it is more often than not occasionally repetitive. In story after story the details change—Connelly was once punched in the face in the middle of a set!—but the gist remains the same. “You’ve got to die to get good.” “The more pain you go through the better you’ll be.” Sometimes the language is quite colourful—“Bombing feels like being slapped by your dad at a BBQ.”—but it does go on longer than it should.
Judging by the off camera laughter during the interview segments this was a fun film to make. Too bad it isn’t quite as much fun to watch. A judicious editor, perhaps one a little less in love with the material probably could have cut this down to the bone, mining the interviews for new insight.
A friend is boycotting the Academy Awards because his favourite film of 2015, Star Wars: The Force Awakens, didn’t make the Oscar’s Best Picture list.
The awards, he says, aren’t relevant because they ignore genre movies and in this particular case, have snubbed the most financially successful film of the year. In fact, the old canard that the Academy doesn’t honour genre movies with Best Picture nods has been shot down this year with nominations for The Martian and Mad Max: Fury Road.
The Oscar folks also gave The Force Awakens five nominations and in recent years Inception, Avatar, District 9, Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King and Django Unchained have all earned top nods with LOTR taking home the gold.
Genre movies do just fine with the Academy. No need for C-3PO to cry little metal tears. To the Academy’s credit, not recognizing the year’s box office behemoth while giving Room, a modestly grossing movie, Best Picture, Actress, Directing and Adapted Screenplay nods, actually suggests the Academy will not be wowed by wheelbarrows of cash.
Perhaps the truth is that the Oscars, and awards shows in general, are only as relevant as you want them to be. Are they as important as the Republican debates? It’s all just show biz, so maybe. Ultimately, unless you’re an actor, a director or a shareholder in a nominated film the Oscars are probably not extremely significant to your life. I pay attention to them as a function of my job, and I enjoy them, but this year I’m on board with my friend but for different reasons.
I’m disappointed in Oscar’s failure to acknowledge diversity. For the second year in a row all 20 acting nominations went to white actors. To be clear I’m not implying the Academy is overtly racist. There are too many voters for there to be a conspiracy to keep actors of colour out of the headline categories. Have you ever gone to a restaurant with more than 10 people and tried to get everyone to agree on an appetizer for the table? It’s nearly impossible. Now imagine trying to arrange collusion between 6,000 members of the Academy. Totally hopeless.
So if it’s not a conspiracy why were stellar performances from Creed’s Michael B. Jordan, The Hateful Eight’s Samuel L. Jackson, Sicario’s Benicio Del Toro, Beasts of No Nation’s Idris Elba or any of Straight Outta Compton’s top line cast not nominated? I think it’s a combination of studio decision makers, who tend to be white, male and older coupled with the same demographic of voters at the Academy.
It’s a systemic issue being addressed by Academy president Cheryl Boone Isaacs’ effort to mould the Academy’s membership to be more in line with the population.
Until the Oscars represent the full width and breadth of the best in Hollywood, regardless of race or gender, they will continue to slide toward irrelevancy. My guess is that the most interesting part of this year’s ceremony won’t be who wins Best Actor but host Chris Rock’s opening monologue, which, if the movie gods prevail, will address the situation in no uncertain terms. It’s a speech I’m predicting will be just as entertaining and provocative as any of the nominees, Star Wars: The Force Awakens included.
In “Top Five” comedic superstar Andre Allen (Chris Rock) faces a problem that has bedeviled many of his real life counterparts. “I don’t feel like being funny anymore,” he says, but will his audience be ready for his new, serious side?
Allen is at a make or break point in his career. After years of making popular comedies featuring a cop in a bear suit, his latest film, “Uprize,” is a serious drama about the slave revolt in Haiti and if it flops his agent (Kevin Hart) says, “we’re talking ‘Dancing With the Stars.’” Before he jets off to London to marry his reality star girlfriend (Gabrielle Union) he does the promotional circuit, including spending a day with New York Times reporter Chelsea Brown (Rosario Dawson). In the course of doing an in-depth profile on the actor Chelsea uncovers some uncomfortable truths about Allen and herself.
The top five things to know about “Top Five” is that it works as a comedy, as a romance, as a look at creative fulfillment, as a showcase for Chris Rock’s comedian friends and as a portrait of fame in the modern age. Rock, who also writes and directs, is firing on all cylinders in a personal film that crackles with energy and NSFW humour.
Rock and Dawson spark in long, uncut scenes of dialogue that echo “Before Midnight.” Flirting and sparring throughout the film, they are at the heart of the story but Rock has populated the movie with other interesting characters and cameos.
As Allen’s childhood friend and minder Silk, J.B. Smoove is smooth as silk and SNLer Leslie Jones is a showstopper but several supporting players threaten to walk away with the whole movie. Cedric the Entertainer lives up to his name, handing in an outrageous performance as a Houston comedy promoter and DMX, in a short cameo, can only be described as unhinged. Also, it’s almost worth the price of admission to see Jerry Seinfeld “makin’ it rain” in a strip club.
It’s a colourful collection of characters but Rock keeps the focus where it needs to be, on the chemistry between he and Dawson. The talk about everything from Charlie Chaplin—“The Grandmaster Flash of Ha Ha”—to whether or not the release of “Planet of the Apes” in linked to Martin Luther King’s assassination to Allen’s alcoholism. There is an easy air of authenticity between them that is imminently watchable.
Occasionally “Top Five” tries just a bit too hard to pluck the heartstrings—a scene between Allen and his father is a clunker, neither funny or effective—but Rock, unlike his alter ego Allen, is still clearly interested in making funny movies, and pulls it off with panache here.
In “Rustin,” a new reverential historical drama now streaming on Netflix, Emmy Award winner Colman Domingo plays Bayard Rustin, a gay Black man whose vision and tenacity had an outsized effect on the Civil Rights Movement. He’s been largely forgotten by history but “Rustin,” produced by Barack and Michelle Obama’s production company Higher Ground, serves as a potent reminder of his activist legacy.
