Set in 1999, “Drive-Away Dolls,” a new LGBTQ2+ b-movie wannabe from director Ethan Coen in his first solo outing, feels like it emerged, untouched from the time before Y2K.
A loving throwback to the kind of independent, verging on experimental, filmmaking that made the Coen brothers famous, “Drive-Away Dolls” is a queer caper film whose action, after a brief but memorable prologue, begins when the uninhibited Jamie (Margaret Qualley) cheats on girlfriend Sukie (Beanie Feldstein) and gets thrown out of their apartment.
“I’ve had it with love,” Jamie says. “It might be alright for the bards and the troubadours, but I don’t think it works for the twentieth, soon to be twenty-first, century lesbian.”
Looking for a change of pace, Jamie decides to hit the road, along with Marian (Geraldine Viswanathan), a reserved friend who is bored of her job and her life. They acquire a drive-away car (a vehicle that needs to be delivered from one city to another) and head off for a fresh start in Tallahassee.
Trouble is, the car they were given contains very valuable cargo that kingpin Chief (Colman Domingo) and his dopey henchmen Arliss (Joey Slotnick) and Flint (C. J. Wilson) need to get their hands on.
“Drive-Away Dolls” has many of the trademarks of the kind of 90s indie cinema the Coens and Tarantino left in their wake. There’s smart-alecky dialogue, over-the-top, bickering bad guys, a mysterious briefcase, a preposterous crime and “not your garden variety decapitation,” all wrapped in a tidy 84-minute package.
Unfortunately, it’s not an entirely welcome u-turn to 90s form for Coen. For all the free-wheeling vibes the movie emits, it’s a bit of a slog, even at its abbreviated runtime. Choppy storytelling, low stakes and an emphasis on quirky caricatures over real characters slow the roll of what could have been a fun road trip romp. The pitch perfect sweet spot between serious and silly, Coen achieved (with brother Joel) in “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “The Big Lebowski” is sadly missing here.
The performances are amiable. Qualley’s intermittent Texas accent is distracting, but Viswanathan brings the nerdy charm to Marion. The great Bill Camp steals scenes as Curlie, the crusty drive-away clerk, and Pedro Pascal has a memorable cameo.
“Drive-Away Dolls,” written by Coen and his wife, and long-time editor, Tricia Cooke is about hitting the road and cutting loose but never puts the pedal to the metal.
By the mid-1990s Beanie Babies, the heart-tagged, soft plush toys with names like Princess Bear and Bubbles the Fish, were not only collected for the fun of it, but also as a financial investment. The world’s first Internet sensation, the rarest of the $5 stuffies could fetch upwards of $500,000 in the collector’s market.
Before the Beanie consumer craze bubble burst, a lot of people got rich, including creator H. Ty Warner, the subject of “The Beanie Bubble,” a new true crime movie starring Zach Galifianakis and Elizabeth Banks, now on Apple TV+ and in select theatres across Canada.
Loosely based on real events and adapted from Zac Bissonnette’s book “The Great Beanie Baby Bubble,” the film zips back-and-forth between the 1980s and 1990s to tell the story of the three unsung heroes largely responsible for the success of the Beanie Babies.
The story of greed, betrayal and power begins with Warner (Galifianakis), a college dropout looking for the next big thing. He found it with the Beanies, plush toys with cute names, under-stuffed for maximum “pose-ability.” “Genius,” he says with more than a hint of self-congratulation ion his voice, “is 1% inspiration and 99% presentation.”
The cute toys are not, however, an immediate hit. Enter the real focus of the story, executive Robbie (Banks), Ty’s love interest Sheila (“Succession” star Sarah Snook) and innovative tech genius Maya (Geraldine Viswanathan). Here the film splinters, telling the tale of how these three women in three timelines, helped fuel the thermonuclear success of the Beanie Babies.
In each case Warner lured these talented women into his orbit, only to deny them the profits and power their work generated. “Ty will tell you he did it all,” Robbie says. “Which is as crazy as believing stuffed animals are gold.”
Structurally, this breezy look at the inequity women sometimes experience as part of the American Dream, is occasionally confusing as the broken timeline jumps from decade-to-decade, seemingly randomly. But the intercutting between storylines does effectively emphasize Warner’s ongoing abuse, and paints a vivid portrait of how his narcissism shaped not only his life and career, but the lives and careers of those around him.
Galifianakis steps away from his trademarked broad, awkward comedy to play Warner with a certain amount of pathos. That innate sadness, usually masked by a loud bravado, brings some humanity to the character, and prevents him from feeling like an un-filmed subplot from “Horrible Bosses.”
He is the catalyst for the action, but the real story here is one of resilience. The three female characters are discriminated against and struggle for credit and recognition, but each draw on a deep well of determination to create the lives they want. It’s a success story, but not just of the Beanie Babies. The real success here are Robbie, Sheila and Maya who discover their agency.
“The Beanie Bubble” isn’t a business story. The phenomenal success of the stuffed animals is the engine that keeps the story moving forward, but this is really a character-driven tale about people who find a way to balance the inequity in their lives.
Heartbreak has been the catalyst for much great art. During a lull in her relationship with Diego Rivera, Frida Kahlo painted “The Two Fridas” depicting herself on one side with a full heart and with a gaping hole in her chest on the other. David Levithan’s “The Lover’s Dictionary” told a tale of heartbreak through a collection of dictionary entries and Taylor Swift has made a career turning her romantic anguish into art.
In “The Broken Hearts Gallery,” a glossy new rom com starring Geraldine Viswanathan playing in theatres this weekend, a young woman deals with romantic upheaval by turning heartbreak into an art gallery.
Viswanathan is quirky Brooklyn art gallery assistant Lucy, a romantic hoarder, not of hearts but of trinkets from all the men who left her forlorn. The mementos, stuffed animals, bicycle locks, candlesticks and more, clutter her bedroom, acting as a shrine to love gone wrong. Her roommates (Phillipa Soo and Molly Gordon) tell her she can’t have a good relationship “because she’s always mourning the past.” An ex says, “Every time I came over it was like hooking up in a mausoleum.”
When her boyfriend Max (Utkarsh Ambudkar), who is also her boss at a tony art Manhattan gallery, suddenly dumps her at a work event, she causes a scene and loses her job. “I know we have 10 years before we all drown in the melting ice caps,” she says before being escorted out, “but I swear the most precious resource is not the ozone. Oh no. It’s honesty.”
Single and unemployed she calls an Uber, jumps into the first car on the block and, in the kind of meet cute that only happens in the movies, meets Nick (Dacre Montgomery) who isn’t an Uber driver, but gives her a lift anyway. Turns out he’s about to open a boutique hotel and it’s there Lucy find purpose as the curator of the Broken Hearts Gallery, a space where people can deposit the detritus of past relationships, leaving behind the pain and moving on to the future. “There are broken people out there who need help moving on,” she says.
“The Broken Hearts Gallery” is Generation-Y answer to “Bridget Jones’ Diary” and “Sex and the City.” It plays like a regular rom com with all the stuff we expect, the funny, raunchy best friends, the NYC setting (although whenever they step in doors it’s actually Toronto) and there’s even the predictable run through the rain as the beau declares his love.
What doesn’t feel conventional is Viswanathan’s performance. “The Broken Hearts Gallery” is a showcase for the 25-year-old Australian actress’ considerable charisma, sincerity and comedy chops. The story and the surrounding characters feel interchangeable with other rom coms but Viswanathan makes this optimistic ode to empowerment a cute, feel good diversion.
