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!
I sit in with CKTB morning show guest host Karl Dockstader to have a look at movies in theatres and streaming including 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.”
Listen to 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!
SYNOPSIS: In “The Brutalist,” an epic new story of the American Dream starring Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones and Guy Pierce and now playing in theatres, a Jewish Hungarian-born architect survives the Holocaust, only to struggle to find success in the United States. His life changes when a wealthy patron recognizes his talent.
CAST: Adrien Brody, Felicity Jones, Guy Pearce, Joe Alwyn, Raffey Cassidy, Stacy Martin, Emma Laird, Isaach de Bankolé, Alessandro Nivola. Directed by Brady Corbet.
REVIEW: At three-and-a-half hours with a fifteen-minute intermission, “The Brutalist” is the kind of sweeping, personal epic we don’t see very often. Think “There Will Be Blood” and “Oppenheimer” and you’ll get the idea.
Spanning 33 years, the film begins with Hungarian Holocaust survivor and Bauhaus-trained architect László Tóth (Adrien Brody), separated from his wife Erzsébet (Felicity Jones) and his niece Zsófia (Raffey Cassidy) in Budapest during World War II. Once in the United States, alone, save for his cousin and his wife (Alessandro Nivola and Emma Laird), László’s life is up and down. Once a celebrated architect, he now dabbles in drugs, does menial jobs and lives in the basement of a church. It isn’t until his previous work in Europe is noticed by wealthy industrialist Harrison Lee Van Buren (Guy Pierce) that his fortunes change.
Hired by Van Buren to design a community centre as a monument to his late mother, László creates an ambitious design, complete with a library, a theater, a gymnasium and chapel, quietly incorporating the brutalist elements of the prison at Buchenwald where he was incarcerated. His artistic temperament leads to conflicts with the Van Burens, and his own family.
“The Brutalist” uses the broad canvas of László’s personal story to comment on themes of assimilation, iconoclasm, identity, creativity and the American Dream.
László’s refusal to compromise and his unconventional methods reverberate with echoes of Ayn Rand’s “The Fountainhead,” although director Brady Corbet (who co-wrote the script with Mona Fastvold) shifts the focus from rugged individualism to the immigrant experience.
Rand’s exploration of Objectivism, her philosophy of productive achievement as the noblest activity, is filtered through László’s experience as an immigrant who is told, “We tolerate you,” by the entitled Harry van Buren (Joe Alwyn). Rand’s take in self-interest as the road to happiness is replaced by László’s bittersweet reality of assimilation as personal and professional suppression at the hands of the Van Burens.
It’s a fascinating lens with which to observe László and his family’s tainted American Dream. It is an epic story, told in epic style. Corbet shoots in high resolution, widescreen VistaVision, flooding the screen with gorgeously composed images, set to Daniel Blumberg’s mesmeric score.
Against that backdrop are Brody, in his meatiest role since his Oscar winning turn in “The Pianist,” convincingly portrays László’s broken psyche and tortured genius as roadside stops on the way to his emotional ruin. It’s an impressive performance, one that feels lived-in and weathered. Without Brody at the film’s core as a man who loses himself, “The Brutalist’s” emotional impact would be much blunted.
As Erzsébet, who plays a major role in the film’s second half, Jones displays a grit earned by years of suffering.
The film’s showiest performance belongs to the charismatic Pierce whose flamboyant performance is a grabber, particularly when he’s sparring with Brody.
These three key performances, coupled with a terrific supporting cast, are as ambitious in their personal scope as the film is in its big picture approach.
Like the architecture it showcases—large intimidating structures that feel simultaneously claustrophobic and vast—“The Brutalist” is beautiful but overwhelming in its scope.
The release of “Memory,” a new Liam Neeson action movie, now playing in theatres, makes the star’s fourteenth anniversary as an action star. 2008’s “Taken” kicked off the “special set of skills” phase of his career of usually playing tough guys shooting their way through one last job.
“Memory” continues the actor’s unbroken string of shoot ‘em ups, but with a twist. He still has a special set of skills, which he deploys to deadly effect, but this time there is a ticking clock.
Neeson is Alex Lewis, an assassin for hire who prides himself in the precision of his work. He is brutally efficient, but lately there have been slip ups. Nothing major, but his memory isn’t what it once was, and the quality of his work is suffering.
As his memory fades, Lewis finds himself in the crosshairs of an FBI agent Vincent Serra (Guy Pearce, who starred in “memento,” one of the best thrillers involving memory ever made) and Mexican intelligence. Worse, when he turns down a job from ruthless crime human trafficking boss Davana Sealman (Monica Bellucci) to kill a child, she vows to kill him. “I’ve done crazy things,” he says, “but you don’t hurt children, ever.”
To stay alive and help bring Sealman to justice, he must piece the shattered pieces of his memory back together. “We all have to die,” he says, “what’s important what you do before you go.”
Directed by veteran James Bond filmmaker Martin Campbell, “Memory” is a well-constructed thriller, but has a generic, workmanlike feel. The characters feel as though they’ve been cut-and-pasted from other, better movies, leaving the viewer with a feeling of déjà vu. We’ve been there and done that and despite the level of performances from a cast of old pros, it is sunk by a laboured script.
The story of a man trying to undo the bad he has done in his life as his memory fades is a compelling one, but unfortunately, in the end, “Memory” is a forgettable action flick.
If you took all the gun play out of “Without Remorse,” the new Michael B. Jordan thriller on Amazon Prime Video, the movie would only be about 10 minutes long. The Tom Clancy adaptation is a bullet ballet that plays like a throwback to 80s matinee action movies.
When we first meet John Clark (Jordan) he’s leading an elite team of US Navy SEALs on a dangerous top-secret mission in Syria to liberate a CIA operative taken hostage by ex-Russian military forces.
Cut to three months later. Back in the United States, the quiet life Clark and his pregnant wife Pam (Lauren London) have created for themselves is shattered by Russian assassins who invade their home. Looking for revenge, the Russian hit team kill Pam before Clark is able to off three of the four hitmen. The fourth gunman fires back, leaving Clark for dead, riddled with bullets.
As Clark recuperates in hospital, his colleagues, SEAL Lt. Commander Karen Greer (Jodie Turner-Smith), CIA agent Robert Ritter (Jamie Bell) and Secretary of Defense Thomas Clay (Guy Pearce), determine how to best respond to a Russian attack on U.S. soil.
Not satisfied with the official way of doing things, Clark becomes a one-man army, seeking revenge and answers. He is the very definition of a man you don’t want to mess with. He’s a killing machine, especially when you take away the only thing he had to live for. He tracks down a Russian diplomat he thinks is responsible for the murder of his wife and coerces information out of him in a spectacular and completely illegal way. “They brought the war to my house,” he says. “The contract is broken. They’re going to play by my rules now.”
His act of retribution lands him in prison but he’s able to trade the sensitive information he garnered in his one-man mission for a second chance at revenge. This time with the cooperation of the CIA and military.
One secretive flight to Russia later, cue the carnage and conspiracy.
“Without Remorse” is an extremely violent movie with more bullets than brains.
Director Stefano Sollima stages intense action scenes and isn’t afraid to let the bodies fall where they may. Unfortunately, it’s in the handling of the other stuff, the intrigue, that the movie comes up short. In between bullet blasts a conspiracy slowly comes into focus, but it is never developed. Buried beneath an ever-increasing body count is the broader and more interesting picture of governmental tampering with world politics. Countries need outside enemies, it is suggested, or people will turn on their neighbors looking for someone to hate. It’s a timely message, a bit of debatable ideology, that could have been the underpinning for a rich subplot. Instead, “Without Remorse” is a standard issue shoot ‘em up.
Jordan brings charisma and physicality to the role, but is saddled with Steven Seagal-level dialogue. “Death follows me around,” he says in a line that could be from any number of direct-to-DVD action films from the last thirty years.
“Without Remorse” starts off with a bang—many of them in fact—but ends as a regression to cold war paranoia fuelled by bullets and brawn.
Father Peter (Guy Pearce) is a priest with a past I the new exorcism drama “The Seventh Day,” now on VOD.
The rough-and-tumble holy man comes complete with Sonny Crockett stubble, a fistful of smokes and a muscle car. He’s a badass who says, “An exorcist doesn’t hide from evil. He runs TOWARD it, feels the evil in his bones and can sense when it’s close.”
He stands in stark contrast to his latest protégé, novice priest Father Daniel (Vadhir Derbez). The trainee does not have his mentor’s swagger and Father Peter is less than impressed with Daniel‘s “two grueling weeks of exorcist nursery school.”
Nonetheless, the duo are a team, buddy exorcists off in search of evil to expunge. After a run in with the devil at a homeless encampment they come across Charlie (Brady Jenness), a pre-teen who murdered his family with an axe. Is he a bad kid or is he possessed by the devil?
“The Seventh Day” starts strong with the exorcism gone wrong that formed Father Peter’s hardened exterior. “The evil was the strongest I’ve ever seen,” he says. Unfortunately, after that it goes downhill faster than you can say “Father Karras” three times fast. The mix-and-match of “Training Day” with “The Exorcist” could have offered up some edgy thrills but instead falls prey to clichés borrowed from dozens of other devil movies dating back to when Father Merrin first bellowed, “The power of Christ compels you!”
Pearce, who also co-produced, attempts to inject some life into “The Seventh Day” with a big hammy performance but his flamboyance is counter-balanced by flat work from Derbez whose work mimics the film’s listless pacing.
“The Seventh Day” seeks to reinvent the exorcism movie via the buddy cop genre but succeeds only in combing the most hackneyed bits of each.
A mix of fact and fiction, the real and the unreal, “The Last Vermeer” starring Guy Pearce and Claes Bang, now on VOD, is a cat-and-mouse game with a high-minded purpose.
Set just after World War II, the story involves Captain Joseph Piller (Claes Bang), a Jewish member of the Dutch Resistance who spent the war years working underground. Now, he works with the Allied reconstruction corps, following the money trail from big ticket art sales that may have funded espionage.
His investigation introduces him to artist Han van Meegeren (Guy Pearce), a painter and art dealer who admits making millions of dollars selling art to the Nazis. Of particular interest is “Christ and the Adulteress,” a Johannes Vermeer masterpiece he sold to Hermann Göring for 1.6 million guilder. “Which proves that pigs have good taste or too much money,” van Meegeren sxays.
The Netherland’s government see him as a war criminal. “He’s an honorary Nazi,” says one bureaucrats. “Let him swing with the rest of them.” But there’s a twist; van Meegeren claims the paintings were fakes, forgeries he painted to defraud the Nazis. “I believe every Fascist deserves to be swindled,” van Meegeren says. An ensuing court case puts not only van Meegeren on trial for collaborating with the enemy during war, but also the very idea of what makes good art great.
“The Last Vermeer” is a handsome, deliberately paced historical drama given life by a flamboyant performance from Pearce. He’s a bon vivant, quick with a line and a theatrical character who given to histrionic outbursts. “I am an artist,” says van Meegeren, “not a Nazi spy.” Pearce is clearly having fun—more so than anyone else in the film—but he’s reigned in just enough to prevent van Meegeren from becoming a caricature. It’s the spark that keeps our interest in an otherwise nicely made but occasionally lethargic movie.
Most interesting are the questions van Meegeren’s forgeries ask. If they are good enough to fool the experts and please the eye, why can’t they be considered on their own merits? Was the painter, who is based on a real artist who is considered the greatest forger of all time, touched by genius or simply an opportunist who wasted his talents to bilk the Nazis? The film stops shy of providing answers but provides food for thought.
Mr. Parker, my grade nine history teacher, believed in learning by rote. Once a day thirty schoolmates and I would assemble in his class and were invariably confronted with Mr. Parker in his black suit dusted with chalk from writing, in perfect script, three chalk boards worth of notes. “Write it down and learn it.” A mishmash of dates and names, his notes were detailed but ultimately did not bring the story to life.
Watching “Mary Queen of Scots,” a new historical drama starring Saoirse Ronan and Margot Robbie, I was immediately transported back to Mr. Parker’s class.
The convoluted tale begins in 1561 with Mary Stuart (Ronan) returning to Scotland being raised Catholic in France and widowed at age eighteen. She comes home to a world of intrigue. Her half-brother, the Earl of Moray (James McArdle) would seem to be an ally but holds resentment that he will lose his exalted place as King with her return. She also faces opposition from John Knox (David Tennant), a religious leader who brands the queen a harlot, unfit for the throne.
Meanwhile in England Mary’s twenty-five-year-old Protestant cousin Queen Elizabeth I (Robbie, under an inch of make-up) has a certain amount of sympathy for her long lost relative. The monarch understand what it means to be a woman ruler in a world of men but her advisers, including her chief council William Cecil (Guy Pearce) see Mary as a threat who must be dealt with.
Cue the intrigue and sharpen those axes.
There is a lot going on in “Mary Queen of Scots.” Political backbiting, betrayal, toxic patriarchy, romance, more betrayal and equal parts empathy and cruelty are all on display, making an already expansive story—it spans roughly twenty years—feel overstuffed. Locations, dates and motivations blur as the courtly manipulations pile atop one another, leaving behind a nicely acted film that feels weighted down by an excess of intrigue.
Robbie and Ronan, rivals for the Best Actress Oscar last year, share just one scene, an historically inaccurate meeting that features the film’s best moments. As Mary shifts from pleading for sisterhood to imperiously claiming the crown of England for herself—“I am a Stuart, the rightful queen.”—there is more drama in those few minutes than in the film’s entire middle section.
“Mary Queen of Scots” has some admirable, timely qualities. Colour-blind casting—most notably through the work of Gemma Chan and Adrian Lester—Mary’s attitude toward the gender-fluid minstrel David Rizzio (Ismael Cruz Cordova) and the portrayal of Mary and Elizabeth as strong willed women are thoroughly modern and to be commended. It’s too bad the narrative machinations bog down what otherwise is a fine tale of political manoeuvring.
