SYNOPSIS: In “O’Dessa,” a post-apocalyptic musical now streaming on Disney+, “Stranger Things” star Sadie Sink plays the title character, a dirt farmer who follows in her father’s footsteps as a “Rambler,” a musician whose music has the power to “comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” When he died he left her a “mighty guitar” and a mission. When the guitar is stolen O’Dessa travels to the dangerous world of Satylite City where the power of her music is tested.
CAST: Sadie Sink, Kelvin Harrison Jr., Murray Bartlett, and Regina Hall. Directed by Geremy Jasper.
REVIEW “O’Dessa” builds a cyberpunk world for its characters to inhabit that feels, like the rest of the movie, like a new story built on the foundations of films like “Mad Max” and “The Hunger Games.”
During its 106-minute runtime “O’Dessa” wears its influences on its colorful sleeve.
Everything from “Phantom of the Paradise” to “Repo! The Genetic Opera” garners a nod, but what writer/director Geremy Jasper’s vision lacks in originality, it makes up for in enthusiasm. This dystopian mash-up is vibrant, often extravagant and may even get your toe lightly tapping along with the folk-rock songs.
Trouble is, while the songs are plentiful, they don’t leave much of an impression, let alone have the power to change the world and bring humanity together.
Visually, Jasper evokes 19809s music videos, with wild splashes of colour and costumes that would make Grace Jones envious but, ultimately, while it may entertain the eye, it won’t engage the brain.
Even a pair of pretty good villains, Regina Hall as wicked Neon Dion and Murray Bartlett (“White Lotus’s” pooping resort manager) as the evil empresario Plutonovich, O’Dessa feels music video stretched to feature length.
Writer/director Jasper’s vision of the future may not be as original, or as engaging, as it could be to really sell the movie’s premise, but there is a sincerity to the idea that music and the arts have the power to change the world.
SYNOPSIS: Set in the Pride Lands of Tanzania, the new musical drama “Mufasa: The Lion King” is both a prequel and sequel to the 2019 remake of the 1994 film “The Lion King.” It’s the origin story of two lions, Mufasa and Scar, one who would become king, the other a villain.
CAST: Donald Glover, Seth Rogen, Billy Eichner, John Kani, Beyoncé Knowles-Carter, Aaron Pierre, Kelvin Harrison Jr., Tiffany Boone, Mads Mikkelsen, Thandiwe Newton, Lennie James, Anika Noni Rose, and Blue Ivy Carter. Directed by Barry Jenkins.
REVIEW: “Mufasa: The Lion King” is filled with visual tricks courtesy of the photo-realistic computer animation. For instance, a lion’s face is reflected in a single drop of rain. The topography changes from sunburnt savannahs to lush landscapes with a CGI flourish. You might even think a lion can sing Broadway style show tunes.
Yes, there’s lots of tricks on display, but very little magic.
Sure, fans learn where Rafiki (John Kani) found his famous bakora staff and how Pride Rock came to be, but even with the easter eggs, the sweeping cinematography, beautiful scenery, some action (which may be too intense for younger members of the family) and songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda, “Mufasa: The Lion King” feels inert. Instead of being enhanced by the endless possibilities of CGI, the film feels limited by it.
The rendering of the characters is impressive. They lions, and many of the other animals, look as though they just wandered in from a National Geographic nature doc. That’s great, but the photorealism doesn’t offer the range of expression of the original’s hand drawn work (which was enhanced by digital coloring). Those stylized characters had more opportunity for facial expressions and therefore had far more personality.
The new CGI work looks real… until the characters begin to speak.
Then the illusion shatters.
Ditto when they sing. Near the end Taka—the lion who will become Scar—sings “Brother Betrayed,” a song of heartbreak that would have benefitted from more emotion and less realism.
“Mufasa: The Lion King” is a technical achievement but feels bloodless. Familiar “Lion King” themes of family, loyalty, love and discovering purpose in life are present, but they feel lost amongst the pixels in this generic prequel.
“Chevalier,” a new biopic of composer and violin virtuoso Joseph Bolonge Chevalier de Saint-Georges (Kelvin Harrison Jr.), now playing in theatres, begins with the 18th century version of a dance-off. The title character, the son of a wealthy, white Slave owner and a Senegalese slave, bounds onstage, yelling, “Play violin concerto #5!” challenging Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Joseph Prowen) to a violin duel.
The two go at it, the devil came down to Georgia style, until it becomes clear that Bologne is the superior talent, setting up the movie’s main premise, that he is the most talented musician of the Classical period you’ve never heard of.
Brought from the French colony of Guadeloupe by his father, the young musical prodigy is placed at a boarding school, where he excels at the violin and fencing. His competitive side sees him move through French society, despite the limitations placed on him by a racist society who appreciate his talent but, because of his skin colour, will never fully embrace him socially.
A performance for King Louis and Marie Antionette (Lucy Boynton) earns him some royal respect and the title Chevalier, the French equivalent of an English knight. The Queen also challenges him and another composer to write an opera. Whoever does the best job will have the honor of, not only, performing their work at the Paris Opera, but will also be named director of the company.
In order to win the competition and the esteem of the French elite, Bologne becomes involved with singer Marquise Marie-Josephine (Samara Weaving), despite the warnings of her violent aristocratic husband Marquis de Montalembert’s (Marton Csokas) to keep her off the stage.
As the French Revolution looms, Bologne’s ego and desires threaten his future.
“Chevalier” is melodramatic—imagine a soap opera about an opera—and takes considerable liberties with Bologne’s life story, but the character is so compelling, the movie overcomes its shortcomings.
Harrison, last seen playing B.B. King in “Elvis,” brings heaps of charisma and some very credible violin miming to the role. It’s a performance that buoys the underwritten script, and helps the audience understand why Bologne cut such a path through French society. His bravado would ultimately be his downfall, but Harrison’s beautiful rendered portrait creates empathy for a man who was afforded little in his real life.
Top-notch production design and more corsets than you can shake a violin bow at, decorate the screen, bringing the time period to vivid life.
“Chevalier” is a period piece, but the story’s exploration of the effects of racism feels very current.
“Elvis,” the new King of Rock ‘n Roll biopic from maximalist director Baz Luhrmann, begins with a sparkling, bedazzled Warner Bros logo and gets flashier and gaudier from there.
The movie is told from the point of view of Elvis’s (Austin Butler) manager Colonel Tom Parker (Tom Hanks under an inch or two of makeup), a huckster with a flair for spotting talent and a gift for manipulation.
Working on the carnival circuit taught Parker that a great act “gave the audience feelings they weren’t sure if they should enjoy,” a standard the early, hip-shaking Elvis met and exceeded.
Their partnership is one of the best known, and well documented success stories of the twentieth century. For twenty years, through the birth of rock ‘n roll of the late 1950s and the cheesy Hollywood years to the legendary 1968 Comeback Special and the Las Vegas rise and fall, Elvis and the Colonel shimmied and shook their way to the top of the charts and into the history books.
“Elvis” covers a lot of ground. From young Elvis (Chaydon Jay) discovering his love of music from the Black rhythm and blues artists and Mississippi church music he absorbed as a kid to his final white jumpsuit days in Vegas, Luhrmann shakes, rattles and rolls throughout in a blur of images and spectacular sound design.
It entertains the eye but feels akin to skipping a stone on a lake. If you hold the stone just right and throw it across the still water at the correct angle, it will skim along for what seems like forever without ever piercing the surface.
“Elvis” is a great looking movie. A pop art explosion that vividly essays the story’s various time frames and styles, it makes an impact visually and sonically. Unfortunately, Luhrmann is content to make your eyeballs dance, your gold TCB chains rattle and simply skim across the surface.
We do learn that Elvis was the sum of his country music and R’n’B experiences and influences, was fueled by the adoration of his audience and aware of the social change of the 1960s, but there is no excavation, no real exploration of what made the singer or his manager actually tick. It may seem fitting that a movie about a man who drove pink Cadillacs and wore phoenix embroidered jumpsuits and capes is over-the-top, but those images are so woven into the fabric of popular culture already that this feels clichéd, more like greatest hits album than a biography.
Butler is a charismatic performer, playing Elvis through several stages of his life, and despite the superficiality of the storytelling hands in a rounded performance that transcends impersonation of a man who spawned a generation (or two) of impersonators.
It’s rare to see Hanks play a character with no redeeming qualities. “I am the man who gave the world Elvis Presley,” he says, “and yet there are some who would make me out to be the villain of this story.” His take on Colonel Parker grates, with the theatrical Dutch accent and imperious, manipulative manner, he is certainly the villain of the piece. He’s a pantomime of the big, bad music manager, one who saw his client as a musical ATM machine and little more.
By the time the end credits roll “Elvis” emerges as an idealized look at the boy from Tupelo who became the King by paying tribute to the power of the music that made a legend.
The story of French army soldiers Cyrano de Bergerac and Christian and the beautiful Roxanne is probably the history’s most case of catfishing. Written as a play in 1897 by Edmond Rostand, the love story of “Cyrano” has been reimagined as a musical by director Joe Wright.
When we first meet Roxanne (Haley Bennett), she is prepping for a date with Duke De Guiche (Ben Mendelsohn). She’s not enthusiastic; she’s holding out for real love, but the family is broke, and as her nanny says, “Children need love. Adults need money.”
What she doesn’t know is that her lifelong friend, King’s Guard swordsman Cyrano (Peter Dinklage), a little person with a larger-than-life personality, has been in love with her since the first time he laid eyes on her. “Even her imperfections are perfect,” he says to his best friend Le Bret (Bashir Salahuddin).
He has never told her—“My fate is to love her from afar,” he says—and may not get the chance to once she gets an eyeful of King’s Guard recruit Christian (Kelvin Harrison Jr) and falls instantly in love.
Trouble is, Christian has no idea how to speak to her. For that, he turns to the brilliant and eloquent Cyrano to be his voice. Cyrano provides the words of love for Christian to woo Roxanne. He pens letters, provides lists of conversational witticisms and even literally provides Christian’s voice in the story’s famous balcony scene. Roxanne is utterly smitten with Christian, thinking he has the body of a warrior and the soul of a poet. “Every day I think can’t love him more,” she says, “then another letter arrives and my heart expands to love him more.”
It’s a bizarre love triangle, one that seems destined to leave Cyrano heartsick and alone.
“Cyrano” is an adaptation of the original Rostand play and the Off-Broadway musical by Bryce and Aaron Dessner of The National, with lyrics by Matt Berninger and Carin Besser. Director Wright dovetails the two expertly, creating a film that pays tribute to its 124-year-old roots and the modern adaptation.
The bones of the story are intact but the presentation feels fresh. Wright is a stylist, creating the 17th century setting in a swirl of camera movement, interesting settings and sumptuous costumes. His trademarked baroque style has been dialed back from the (admitted beautiful) excesses of “Anna Karenina” and “Pan,” but his visions are as memorable as ever. One sequence, where Cyrano dispatches ten adversaries, is a startling bit of uncut camera choreography that will make your eyeballs dance.
The director weaves the music into the dialogue sequences seamlessly, avoiding the abrupt song-and-dance reality-breakers of so many musicals. The actors don’t suddenly start high-stepping either. It’s a more naturalistic approach that focusses attention, for better and for worse, on the emotion of the songs. As much as I liked many of the tunes, the lyrical quality varies, from the eloquent to the elementary.
Dinklage stretches his wings here as the romantic lead, the comedian and warrior. Cyrano is an outsider with a big heart who has resigned himself to being a background player in love. It’s a wonderful performance, made all the more poignant in the film’s closing minutes (NO SPOILERS HERE!).
“Cyrano” is a deeply romantic movie, a musical and a testament to the importance of real human connections, rendered in high style but always with a real, beating heart.
“The High Note,” coming out this week digitally via video on demand, mixes ambition, romance and music in a movie that tries to hit a high C but actually works better when it plays the minor chords.
Set against a backdrop of the Los Angeles music industry, the new film from Nisha Ganatra, now on VOD, sees Dakota Johnson play Maggie, a music obsessed wannabe producer, currently working as a personal assistant to superstar singer Grace Davis (Tracee Ellis Ross). Between running errands and running Grace’s life, Maggie finds time to oversee production on a live album of her boss singing the old hits and discover a new talent, singer-songwriter David Cliff (Kelvin Harrison Jr.). Passing herself off as an experienced producer with loads of industry hook-ups, she inspires him to write great new songs that could launch him into the big leagues. When a plan to position David as the opening act for Grace’s upcoming tour backfires, it threatens to torpedo all of Maggie’s hopes and dreams.
Following up on Ganatra’s last film “Late Night,” which starred Emma Thompson a late-night talk show host whose career is revamped by the influence of a younger, ambitious woman (Mindy Kaling), comes a story that sounds like an echo of the first. There’s more flash here and fewer laughs, but the essential story of a showbiz icon given a new lease on popularity by a newcomer with fresh ideas has a sense of déjà vu to it.
Originally scheduled for a big screen release “The High Note” moved to a digital release in the wake of the pandemic, which may have been a good thing. Its movie-of-the-week plotting and familiar premise feels suited, in a good way, to the smaller screen.
It’s a story about ambition, empowerment and music geekery given charm by Johnson and Ross. Johnson brings her trademarked steely-yet-vulnerable charm to the role of Maggie, while Ross—the daughter of iconic superstar Diana Ross—is a diva with flamboyant clothes and a temperament to match.
Despite the charismatic performers, both characters feel like caricatures. Maggie is a “High Fidelity” reject, a music junkie who speaks as though she’s reciting the liner notes of her favorite album. Ross does some powerful singing but plays Grace in broad diva-esque notes.
“The High Note” is a pleasant enough diversion as a story of empowerment but doesn’t have enough range to make it memorable.
“Waves” feels like two movies in one. The first a story of teen angst writ large with a tragic outcome. The second is a tale of reconciliation and compassion. They dovetail to form one of the year’s best films.
Set in South Florida, “Waves” begins as a slice-of-life drama. We meet high-school wrestler Tyler (Kelvin Harrison, Jr.) as he and girlfriend Alexis (Alexa Demie) flirt during school hours. We then witness the young athlete’s home life with empathetic mother Catharine (Renée Elise Goldsberry), quiet sister Emily (Taylor Russell) and domineering father Ronald (Sterling K. Brown). “We are not afforded the luxury of being average,” says Ronald. “We have to be 10 times better.”
Tyler is driven, a good student and star wrestler who seems bound for scholarships and the Ivy League. A closer look, however, reveals a troubling undercurrent that suggests he is slowly being crushed by the burden of expectations. He self-medicates for a shoulder injury that could end his wrestling career and when his relationship with Alexis takes a bad turn, so does his personality.
The second half focusses on Emily’s coming of age as she begins a relationship with Luke (Lucas Hedges), a sweet-tempered boy dealing with his own family drama.
No spoilers here. The beauty of writer-director Trey Edward Shults’s film is the discovery of it, being drawn into the story and the characters. Shults doles out emotional moment after emotional moment and yet there isn’t a melodramatic second to be seen. That’s partially due to the uniformly wonderful, naturalistic performances but also from a story that feels grounded in real life.
Shults camera is intimate, up-close-and-personal, allowing the viewer to be drawn in. His inventive visual sense and beautiful direction is the very definition of show-me-don’t-tell-me and provides for much introspection. This is a movie that speaks just as loudly when it is in silence as when its characters are talking. The real action in “Waves” happens behind the eyes of its characters.
Stylistically he uses ingenious methods to feed his scenes. In one sequence an annoying seatbelt chime adds tension to an already tense situation and a text conversation that devolves into an all-caps shouting match has a sense of urgency that is very compelling. It is exhilarating filmmaking that takes chances and, coming hot on the heels of his other films “Krisha” and “It Comes at Night,” cements Shults’s place as one of the most exciting filmmakers working today.
Fueled by a soundtrack by from Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor, “Waves” details the hardships that come with difficult decisions but also the redemption that can come with forgiveness. Highly recommended.
There are so many dystopian stories out there it sometimes feels like the movies just might produce dark visions of our planet until the end of the world comes for real. The latest film to portray the end of times is “It Comes At Night,” a psychological horror film starring Joel Edgerton and Riley Keough.
Set in the aftermath of some sort of cataclysmic plague that wiped out much of the population, the story follows a family of gas mask wearing survivors. Paranoid “You can’t trust anyone but family” father Paul (Edgerton), steely mother Sarah (Carmen Ejogo) and 17-year-old Travis (Kelvin Harrison, Jr.) live in a secluded cabin fortified with boarded windows. Barricaded in, with only two double-locked doors and an airlock separating them from the dangers of the outside, infected world.
Their quiet home life is turned inside out when an intruder named Will (Christopher Abbott) breaches their security. The young man tells Paul that his wife and son (Keough and Griffin Robert Faulkner) are just fifteen miles away, dying. “You’re a good person,” says Will, “just trying to protect your family but don’t let mine die because of it.” Moved, Paul agrees to help. The two men brave the uncertain and dangerous journey to Will’s home, rescuing Will’s wife and son. When the two families move in under one roof small cracks soon become chasms that lead to paranoia and suspicion.
“It Comes at Night” is a study in angst, claustrophobia and fear. It’s an up-close-and-personal look at the way society reacts in times of crisis, a lantern-lit look at survival. An existential horror film in shading and feel, the real terror here comes from the characters and not the unnamed virus that decimated mankind. Like “Night of the Living Dead” it is a look at the paranoia and fear that comes along with a societal collapse.
Instead of going for jump scares or outright horror director Trey Edward Shults uses an anxiety-inducing soundtrack to slowly build an atmosphere of dread. Concentrating on the hopelessness of the situation he supplies an emotional punch that plays like a kick to the stomach. It’s disturbing—there hardly a moment of uplift to be found anywhere here—but at a brisk ninety minutes its harrowing story never outstays its welcome. Whatever state your life is in, you’ll be glad to return to it after the end credits.
SYNOPSIS: In “O’Dessa,” a post-apocalyptic musical now streaming on Disney+, “Stranger Things” star Sadie Sink plays the title character, a dirt farmer who follows in her father’s footsteps as a “Rambler,” a musician whose music has the power to “comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.” When he died he left her a “mighty guitar” and a mission. When the guitar is stolen O’Dessa travels to the dangerous world of Satylite City where the power of her music is tested.
