SYNOPSIS: In “Die My Love,” a new psychological drama now playing in theatres, Grace (Jennifer Lawrence) and Jackson (Robert Pattinson) leave the hustle and bustle of New York City in search of a quieter life on a rural Montana ranch. As the couple welcome a child, Grace begins to feel isolated, trapped and acts out in unpredictable ways. “I’m right here,” she says to Jackson, “you just can’t see me.”
CAST: Jennifer Lawrence, Robert Pattinson, LaKeith Stanfield, Nick Nolte, Sissy Spacek. Directed by Lynne Ramsay.
REVIEW: A non-linear, stream-of-consciousness look at one woman’s breakdown, “Die My Love” is not a movie you “enjoy” in the traditional sense. Like the recent “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You,” a psychological drama that mined similar territory, “Die My Love” is a confrontational, difficult watch.
The difference is in the execution.
While neither film can be called pleasurable, “If I Had Legs I’d Kick You” displays a sense of purpose missing from “Die My Love.”
Both feature compelling, raw performances from their leads, but “If I Had Legs” gives the viewer something to hang onto story wise. “Die My Love” has a premise—woman has a breakdown after moving to the country—but is frustratingly shy about fleshing out a complete narrative. The result is a film that feels like a series of escalating events rather than a cohesive whole.
The glue holding the entire thing together is Lawrence, whose fearless and ferocious performance physicalizes the character’s inner turmoil in increasingly unpredictable and upsetting ways. Crushed by postpartum depression and isolation, her behavior spirals, captured by director Lynne Ramsay, who co-wrote with Enda Walsh and Alice Birch, in a series of loosely connected vignettes. With little-to-no narrative accompaniment, however, the incidents, while often shocking, become repetitive and drain away the film’s power as a portrait of postpartum and human frailty.
Lawrence’s portrait of psychological collapse is raw and challenging cinema but as a vehicle for the performance “Die My Love’s” mix of reality and delusion falters.
SYNOPSIS: Based on a true story, “Roofman,” now playing in theatres, stars Channing Tatum as an escaped convict who avoided detection for months by living in a Toys “R” Us store.
CAST: Channing Tatum, Kirsten Dunst, Ben Mendelsohn, LaKeith Stanfield, Juno Temple, Melonie Diaz, Uzo Aduba, Lily Collias, Jimmy O. Yang, and Peter Dinklage. Directed by Derek Cianfrance.
REVIEW: A showcase for its star’s charm, “Roofman” stretches credulity until it is paper thin. If not for Channing Tatum’s innate likeability this story of a vet who turns to a life of crime so he can afford a normal life with his kids would be a stone-cold clunker.
Set in 2004, when Blockbusters still dotted the landscape, “Roofman” is the true story of former United States Army Reserve non-commissioned officer Jeffrey Manchester. His years of service gave him the unique talent of being able to analyze situations and expertly determine operational weaknesses. “I see things other people don’t see,” he says.
The skill comes in handy on his return Stateside.
Unable to get meaningful employment or hold his marriage together, he scopes out McDonald’s locations, learning their routines, particularly when and how they make bank deposits after a brisk weekend business. Discovering all the chain restaurants operate in essentially the same way, he begins a crime spree that sees him enter a restaurant through the roof and hide inside until the first shift arrives. He then gets them to open the safe, grab the “weekend corporate burger money,” lock the workers in a walk-in cooler and flee.
Forty-five or fifty robberies into his crime wave ends with a sentence of forty-five years in prison. Inside, he once again uses his power of observation to make a daring escape. On the run, he settles in Charlotte, North Carolina, finding shelter in a Toys “R” Us store.
It’s here the movie really begins, as we learn about Manchester’s survival skills—he lives, undetected in the store for 8 or 9 months—and his relationship with Leigh Wainscott (Kirsten Dunst), a single mom and Toys “R” Us employee.
Tatum plays Manchester as a nice guy driven to extremes by circumstance. Sure, he locks burger joint employees in room-sized coolers, but he always makes sure they wear jackets to stay warm. He’s a sensitive soul who, on the phone from prison, tells his daughter, “We don’t say goodbye, because goodbye means going away and going away means forgetting.”
It’s an effective performance that brings warmth, humour, some pulse racing sequences and even a wild, nude chase scene to the film’s overlong two-hour running time. But despite Tatum’s presence and Dunst’s kindly work, “Roofman” has a hard time finding its tone. A multi-hyphenate—it’s a romantic-true crime story with farce, light humor and loads of family drama. Tatum runs the gamut and hands in one of the most emotive performances of his career, but the film’s various elements feel like puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together.
SYNOPSIS: In “Play Dirty,” a new action comedy starring Mark Wahlberg and LaKeith Stanfield, and now streaming on Prime Video, violent criminal Parker gets a chance at the score of a lifetime if he can outsmart, outlast and outwit a South American dictator, the world’s richest man and the New York mob.
CAST: Mark Wahlberg, LaKeith Stanfield, Rosa Salazar, Keegan-Michael Key, Chukwudi Iwuji, Nat Wolff, Thomas Jane, Tony Shalhoub. Directed by Shane Black.
REVIEW: Based on the hard-boiled novels by Donald E. Westlake, writing under the name Richard Stark, “Play Dirty” is an overblown throwback to the action comedies of the 1980s and 1990s.
Director Shane Black opens the movie with a wild and wooly action scene that sees expert thief Parker, the movie’s antihero lead played by a strangely unengaged Mark Wahlberg, as part of a violent bank heist gone wrong. The resulting car chase, that sees the good guys and bad guys careening through a horserace, is nutso and sets the over-the-top tone of what is to follow.
The convoluted story then focuses on Parker, and his gang, which includes, freedom fighter Zen (Rosa Salazar), a South American criminal who instigates the theft of one of her country’s national treasures to bankroll a revolution that will topple her government, Grofield (LaKeith Stanfield), a criminal with dreams of being an actor and scammers Ed and Brenda Mackey (Keegan-Michael Key and Claire Lovering).
Their complicated plan to steal a giant statue takes up most of the overlong two-hour runtime, but the fun isn’t in the heist, it’s in the characters. Black, who cowrote the script with Charles Mondry and Anthony Bagarozzi, has a knack for creating antiheroes with pizazz. Standouts include Stanfield, who easily steals scenes from Wahlberg, Salazar as a femme fatale with a way with a funny line and a weapon, and Nat Wolff, whose character Kincaid takes a licking but keeps on ticking.
They all hand in work that feels like they understand that the absurd nature of Black’s big set pieces and the film’s callous disregard for human life is cartoony in nature. It’s Wahlberg who doesn’t appear to be in on the joke. Parker is a hardened criminal, an unrepentant killer and thief, who only seems to come alive when he is un-aliving someone, which is a lot of the time, but not enough to animate the character.
“Play Dirty” has some of the trademark Shane Black verve. His best work is characterized by odd-couple dynamics, flawed leads, sharp dialogue and twisty-turny plots. He helped define the late 1980s action-comedy genre with the scripts for the “Lethal Weapon” franchise, and his underrated “The Nice Guys” is a near perfect buddy flick.
“Play Dirty” doesn’t stand up by comparison to those films—it’s mostly as generic as its title—but it has enough direct to streaming energy and charm to be earn a watch.
SYNOPSIS: In “Play Dirty,” a new action comedy starring Mark Wahlberg and LaKeith Stanfield, and now streaming on Prime Video, violent criminal Parker gets a chance at the score of a lifetime if he can outsmart, outlast and outwit a South American dictator, the world’s richest man and the New York mob.
CAST: Mark Wahlberg, LaKeith Stanfield, Rosa Salazar, Keegan-Michael Key, Chukwudi Iwuji, Nat Wolff, Thomas Jane, Tony Shalhoub. Directed by Shane Black.
REVIEW: Based on the hard-boiled novels by Donald E. Westlake, writing under the name Richard Stark, “Play Dirty” is an overblown throwback to the action comedies of the 1980s and 1990s.
Director Shane Black opens the movie with a wild and wooly action scene that sees expert thief Parker, the movie’s antihero lead played by a strangely unengaged Mark Wahlberg, as part of a violent bank heist gone wrong. The resulting car chase, that sees the good guys and bad guys careening through a horserace, is nutso and sets the over-the-top tone of what is to follow.
The convoluted story then focuses on Parker, and his gang, which includes, freedom fighter Zen (Rosa Salazar), a South American criminal who instigates the theft of one of her country’s national treasures to bankroll a revolution that will topple her government, Grofield (LaKeith Stanfield), a criminal with dreams of being an actor and scammers Ed and Brenda Mackey (Keegan-Michael Key and Claire Lovering).
Their complicated plan to steal a giant statue takes up most of the overlong two-hour runtime, but the fun isn’t in the heist, it’s in the characters. Black, who cowrote the script with Charles Mondry and Anthony Bagarozzi, has a knack for creating antiheroes with pizazz. Standouts include Stanfield, who easily steals scenes from Wahlberg, Salazar as a femme fatale with a way with a funny line and a weapon, and Nat Wolff, whose character Kincaid takes a licking but keeps on ticking.
They all hand in work that feels like they understand that the absurd nature of Black’s big set pieces and the film’s callous disregard for human life is cartoony in nature. It’s Wahlberg who doesn’t appear to be in on the joke. Parker is a hardened criminal, an unrepentant killer and thief, who only seems to come alive when he is un-aliving someone, which is a lot of the time, but not enough to animate the character.
“Play Dirty” has some of the trademark Shane Black verve. His best work is characterized by odd-couple dynamics, flawed leads, sharp dialogue and twisty-turny plots. He helped define the late 1980s action-comedy genre with the scripts for the “Lethal Weapon” franchise, and his underrated “The Nice Guys” is a near perfect buddy flick.
“Play Dirty” doesn’t stand up by comparison to those films—it’s mostly as generic as its title—but it has enough direct to streaming energy and charm to be earn a watch.
Set in Jerusalem in the year 33 A.D., “The Book of Clarence,” now playing in theatres, is unlike any other biblical epic.
Funnier than “Ben Hur” and more faith-based than “Monty Python’s Life of Brian,” it has to be the first biblical story to feature chariot races, a disco dance number and language that might make your pastor blush.
“Atlanta” star LaKeith Stanfield is Clarence, the “village mischief-maker” (and resident drug dealer) who admits, “I am not a man without faults.” And how.
His twin brother Thomas (also played by Stanfield) is an Apostle, but Clarence is too busy trying to hustle a buck to buy into any kind of organized religion.
But when he loses a chariot race to Mary Magdalene (Teyana Taylor) and ends up deep in debt to merciless gang leader Jedediah the Terrible (Eric Kofi Abrefa), he takes note of the attention Jesus Christ (Babs Olusanmokun) is getting and hatches a plan to present himself as a new Messiah sent by God.
“I can just replicate what he does,” he says. “Imagine the money people will give us.”
John the Baptist (David Oyelowo) calls him a “blasphemous swine,” but his pals Elijah (R.J. Cyler), Zeke (Caleb McLaughlin) and Barabbas (Omar Sy) are all in. Thomas, however, has doubts. “You know what it takes [to be spiritual],” he says, “but you do not possess what it takes.”
“Clarence,” says Elijah, “you need miracles.”
“I have a plan,” says Clarence.
Just as Clarence gains traction as a new Messiah, however, Pontius Pilate (James McAvoy) and the Romans crack down, announcing, “Clarence, you are guilty of the crime of fraud for your ill-gotten gains.”
Subversive, yet somehow solemn, “The Book of Clarence” is a brash alternate gospel buoyed by Stanfield‘s charismatic performance. For much of its running time writer/director Jeymes Samuel presents an irreverent biblical reimagination, but then takes a pious, respectful u-turn in the film’s final third.
Before the traditional ending, Samuel takes us on a wild ride where Clarence and his friends float through the air, high on “lingonweed,” while the soundtrack plays like a best of old Hollywood with a contemporary bent to catch the ear. It’s bold, with traditional epic style photography and setting (it was filmed in the ancient city of Materna, Italy) mixed with Samuel’s often restless camera. It’s brash, exciting filmmaking that gives the biblical epic genre a facelift.
As Clarence, Stanfield leads the cast, and it is his shift from shiftless charlatan to conscientious do-gooder, that lies at the heart of the story. Clarence doesn’t suddenly become religious, he simply accesses the good part of his humanity, by thinking of others before himself. It’s this performance that smooths the film’s abrupt shift in tone, from sweeping epic to a personal story of suffering and redemption.
Clarence’s mother, played by Marianne Jean-Baptiste, tells him, “Be the body, not the shadow. Hold space,” and it’s clear Stanfield took the advice to heart. The final third is more traditional, less bold than the first two, but Stanfield’s magnetism keeps it on track.
He’s aided by an eager supporting cast, including McAvoy, who is equal parts imperious and manipulative as Pontius Pilate, Sy as the immortal and loyal Barabbas and Oyelowo as a quick-tempered John the Baptist.
“The Book of Clarence” is so layered, so original its reimagination of the gospel and pointed look at racism, that the odd misstep, like a third act miracle that seems like a plot contrivance rather than an organic story element, is easily forgiven.
Twenty years ago Disney brought one of their popular theme park rides to cinematic life with the horror comedy “Haunted Mansion.” Eddie Murphy played a realtor who valued money over family, until they all get trapped in the mansion and learn valuable life lessons. Despite some laughs and near non-stop oddball action, it flopped at the box office, and even Murphy admitted, “it wasn’t good.”
The ride, however, has remained popular, and now, two decades along, Disney is attempting to bring the scary attraction back from the dead on the big screen.
Set in New Orleans, “Haunted Mansion” stars Rosario Dawson as single mother Gabbie. On the search for a new life with her young son Travis (Chase Dillon), she’s looking for a home she can turn into a bed and breakfast. Her search comes to an end when she finds a rundown mansion that suits their budget. It needs a deep clean and some de-cob webbing, and looks like no one has lived there for years (“lived” being the operative word) but the price is right.
“This place isn’t as warm as I hoped,” she says to Travis, “but I need you to give this place a chance. This is our home now.”
When things start going bump in the night, however, it soon becomes apparent why the mansion was such a bargain.
“This house is dripping with souls,” says the Hatbox Ghost (Jared Leto). “But there’s always room for one more.”
To combat the home’s malevolent spirits Gabbie brings in a ragtag crew of ghostbusters, priest Kent (Owen Wilson), the highly Yelp rated French Quarter psychic Harriet (Tiffany Haddish), paranormal tour guide Ben (LaKeith Stanfield), and tetchy historian Bruce (Danny DeVito).
“I should warn you before you step into the house,” Gabbie says, “this could change the course of your entire life.”
“I’m not afraid of a couple ghosts,” says Ben.
“You say that now,” Gabbie replies ominously.
“Haunted Mansion” evokes the iconic Disney ride, keeping the thrills family friendly and the jump scares that have been part of the theme park experience for decades.
What is new is the emphasis on grief and loss. Both Ben and Travis are stinging from the recent deaths of loved ones, and while it feels wedged in, their shared anguish gives the movie an emotional undercurrent it would not otherwise have.
Stanfield, in his first outing as the lead in a big family film, delivers laughs while also serving as straight man to the broader performances of Haddish, Wilson and DeVito. The movie, which gets off to a slow start, but finds its feet when the supporting cast of misfits shows up.
Before it becomes awash in CGI and spectacle in its last act, “Haunted Mansion” has kind of an old-fashioned feel that falls in line with the old-school vibe of the ride. It delivers the ride’s mild “happy haunts,” some Easter Eggs for fans and quirky, character-based humor that binds it all together. It doesn’t offer the same kind of thrills as the theme park attraction, but it is a massive improvement on the original film, and could be a good introduction to horror for younger viewers.
In the annals of the lore of the American West the names of Black cowboys like Nat Love and Rufus Buck don’t loom as large as Billy the Kid or Wyatt Earp. A new movie, “The Harder They Fall,” starring Jonathan Majors and Idris Elba, and now playing in theatres, aims to change that.
“While the events of this story are fictional,” reads an opening title card, “These. People. Existed.”
In real life Nat Love (Majors), Rufus Buck (Elba), Bill Pickett (Edi Gathegi), Cherokee Bill (LaKeith Stanfield), Stagecoach Mary (Zazie Beetz), Jim Beckwourth (RJ Cyler) never crossed paths, but writer, director Jeymes Samuel imagines a revenge story that brings them all together in wild and increasingly violent ways.
The film’s story is put into motion when Love, as a child, sees Buck kill his parents. To finish off the heinous act, they let the youngster live, but carve a cross into his forehead.
Cut to years later. It’s the late 1800s and Love is now an outlaw, and gang leader. He’s a kind of Robin Hood who only robs people who rob banks. When he and his gang steal $25,000 Buck planned on using to fund a town for Black Americans, it puts the two men (and their gangs) on a bloody collision course.
As the final showdown between the hunter and the hunted nears, the film flips back-and-forth between the two groups, introducing the characters and, of course, gun fights, bank robberies, and bar fights.
Remember when you first saw “Reservoir Dogs” and it felt like you had entered a parallel universe? It felt familiar, yet new and exciting. That movie was a reimagination of what a gangster movie could be, and the first forty-minutes or so of “The Harder They Fall” gave me the same rush. It plays with many of the same elements we expect from a revenge style Western, but it feels fresh and daring. The cutting and pasting of styles, from classic Hollywood and bloody b-movies to the anachronistic dialogue and music and charismatic cast, it’s an exciting eyeful. Director Jeymes Samuel has reinvigorated the genre by telling the story through a Black lens, with plenty of stylised spaghetti western action and humour.
The rest of the film is a bit of a mixed bag. The story telling bogs down slightly in the middle leading up to the final shoot out, which has a body count that would make Tarantino proud. Keeping things interesting are the cast.
Cherokee Bill played by Stanfield, has a long scene on a train that makes you wish there could be an entire movie about this character alone. Stanfield’s laid back take on the stone cold killer who claims to abhor violence, but is quick on the trigger, is worth the price of admission alone.
Danielle Deadwyler as the androgynous Cuffee also warrants further exploration. A loyal sharp shooter, they get the job done, but there is a great deal of humanity tucked away under their thousand-yard stare.
At the center of it all is “Lovecraft County’s” Majors. He’s the engine that fuels the action, and it is his story that provides the emotional undercurrent beneath the bloodshed.
There are no actual heroes anywhere here, just interesting actors inhabiting outsized characters.
“The Harder They Fall” is a crowd pleaser that mixes and matches real life with fiction, tradition with innovation and does so with blood splattered panache.
The most surprising thing about “Judas and the Black Messiah,” now playing in select theatres, is that it took 51 years to bring Black Panther Party chairman Fred Hampton’s story to the screen.
In 1969 the charismatic Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya) was shot in his bed during a state-sanctioned predawn raid conducted by the Cook County State’s Attorney’s Office, the Chicago Police Department and the FBI. Director Shaka King vividly details how and why he met his premature end.
The story begins when career criminal William O’Neal’s (Lakeith Stanfield) plan to impersonate an FBI agent in order to brazenly steal a car goes awry. He winds up beaten, in the hands of Roy Mitchell (Jesse Plemons), an actual agent who offers him a deal. Either do one-and-a-half years for stealing the car and another five for impersonating an officer or go undercover and infiltrate the Illinois chapter of the Black Panthers. He chooses freedom in exchange for supplying details on the comings-and goings of deputy chairman Hampton and his girlfriend, revolutionary Deborah Johnson (Dominique Fishback). Rising to the trusted position of security captain O’Neal is torn between loyalty to Hampton’s revolutionary ideas and self-interest, i.e., the deal he made to stay out of prison. “Imagine what they would do if they found out their security captain was a rat,” says Mitchell.
As the title suggests “Judas and the Black Messiah” is a story of epic betrayal. King carefully fits the puzzle pieces together to create a complex picture of its characters.
Stanfield, who has been handing in strong performances in films like “Selma,” “Get Out” and “Sorry to Bother You” hits a career high here. His take on O’Neal portrays the conflict of a man who took a dangerous and deadly road to salvation, only to discover he was in way over his head. There’s a complexity to Stanfield’s work as he breathes life into his conflicted character. In real life, years after the events portrayed in the film, O’Neal said of his legacy, “I think I’ll let history speak for me.” History may judge him, call him a Judas, but Stanfield doesn’t. Instead, he helps us understand O’Neal’s bad decisions.
Kaluuya unfolds Hampton as much more than a title. History records him as the assassinated Chairman of the Black Panthers, but “Judas and the Black Messiah” remembers him as a captivating speaker who rallied people for his cause as he established free breakfast programs and negotiated a détente between rival gangs. Kaluuya’s work jumps off the screen, with show stopping speeches and emotional scenes he brings Hampton off the pages of the history books with a well-rounded, fiery performance.
The vivid performances, including Fishback who brings depth to a supporting character, reel you in. King takes the time to let us get to know Hampton and O’Neal, which makes the deadly dance they engage in, leading up to the violent climax, all the more emotionally shocking.
Set more than fifty years ago “Judas and the Black Messiah” feels timely. Many of the issues at play in the story are still hot button topics today. The work Hampton began continues because, as he once said, “you can kill the revolutionary but not the revolution.”
It has been a long time, possible forever, since anyone has written that one of the year’s very best movies stars Adam Sandler. Nope, it’s not a rerelease of “Billy Madison” or the director’s cut of “Happy Gilmore,” it’s a crime thriller from acclaimed indie filmmakers Josh and Benny Safdie called “Uncut Gems.”
Sandler plays Howard Ratner, a walking, talking raw nerve. A New York City jeweler, his life is a mess. His business is failing, he owes everyone in town money and yet cannot stop gambling. He’s planning on leaving his wife Dinah (Idina Menzel) for new girlfriend Julia (Julia Fox)—who also works in his store—and the damn security door in his shop is on the fritz.
Like all hustlers he’s always looking for the big score and thinks he may have found it in, of all places, the History Channel. After watching a documentary about mining in Africa he hatches a plan to get his hands on a rare Ethiopian black opal he figures is worth upwards of one million dollars. He has a buyer in NBA superstar Kevin Garnett (playing himself), who thinks the gem has mystical powers that will help his game, but Howard needs more cash upfront than the basketball player is willing to pay.
He’s trying for a win, the kind of windfall that involves great risk, but will the risk be worth it in the end?
Watching “Uncut Gems” is an exhausting experience. Howard’s jittery personality is brought to vibrant life by Sandler. For two hours he’s like a NYC traffic jam come to life, complete with the shouting and jostling. He’s the architect of his own misfortune, constantly in motion, bringing chaos to all situations. With handheld cameras the Safdies capture Howard’s gloriously scuzzy behavior, luxuriating in the character’s foibles.
Sandler has breathed this air before—most notably in “Punch Drunk Love”—but he’s rarely been this compelling. He brings his natural likability to the role but layers it with Howard’s neurosis, frustration, conniving and even joy. It’s a remarkable performance, powered by jet fuel, that, by the time he is locked in the trunk of his own car, naked, will draw you into “Uncut Gems’” dirty little world.
