I sit in with CKTB morning show guest host Karl Dockstader to have a look at movies in theatres and streaming including the sequelitis of “Moana 2,” Angelina Jolie in “Maria” and the bad assery of “The G.”
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 sequelitis of “Moana 2,” Angelina Jolie in “Maria” and the bad assery of “The G.”
Watch the whole thing HERE!
SYNOPSIS: In “Maria,” a new psychological biopic now playing in theatres before moving to MUBI on December 11, Angelina Jolie stars as Maria Callas, the world’s greatest opera singer, as she lives the last days of her life in 1970s Paris, after a glamorous yet tumultuous life spent in the public eye.
CAST: Angelina Jolie, Pierfrancesco Favino, Alba Rohrwacher, Haluk Bilginer, and Kodi Smit-McPhee. Directed by Pablo Larraín.
REVIEW: “Maria” finishes director Pablo Larraín’s trilogy of films about iconic women of the 20th century. Having already examined Jacqueline Kennedy and Princess Diana, this third, and final film features a commanding performance by Angelina Jolie as the temperamental opera star Maria Callas, a woman who no longer performs but admits, “There is no life off the stage.”
She may feel the absence of her voice, of performing for adoring crowds, but her life provides a dynamic backdrop for this ornate, hypnotic film. “There’s a point where self-confidence becomes a kind of insanity,” she says.
In Jolie’ hands the opera singer is every bit a diva. She is now a pill popper whose gift, a voice that once mesmerised the world, has left her, but she remains a diva nonetheless. Regal and occasionally ridiculous, she spends her days barking orders at her loyal staff (Alba Rohrwacher and Pierfrancesco Favino)—”Book me a table at a café where the waiters know who I am,” she says. “I’m in the mood for adulation.”—reminiscing about her life with an imaginary interviewer (Kodi Smit-McPhee) named Mandrax after her drug of choice and refusing to return an important call from her doctor because he said she “must” call him.
Even when there’s not much is happening in “Maria,” Jolie is captivating, emanating the larger-than-life star power that made “La Divina” beloved personally and professionally. In one playful moment Mandrax asks, “What would you say if I told you I was falling in love with you?”
“That happens a lot,” she replies with a smile.
Character study aside, the film itself is more of a mixed bag. Stunning work from cinematographer Edward Lachman and production designer Guy Hendrix Dyas create a beautiful canvas for Jolie’s work, but it feels incomplete. There are flashbacks (mostly shot in black and white) and some paparazzi style footage that provide a sense of Callas’s elevated place in the opera world, but director Pablo Larraín, working from a script by Steven Knight, is more interested in her struggles and foibles than her triumphs. It provides Jolie the dramatic space to give the crowning performance of her career so far but doesn’t allow the character the privilege of a fulsome portrait.
Based on Chile’s former authoritarian leader Augusto Pinochet, “El Conde,” now streaming on Netflix, is a satire that reimagines the president and dictator (and other politicians) as a soulless vampire. Metaphorically, the idea of politicians as bloodsucking leeches is not new, but this movie isn’t allegorical. It’s an ambitious vampire movie first and an alternate history political satire second.
Jaime Vadell plays the Count, a 250-year-old vampire, living in a self-imposed exile in a crumbling mansion/bunker in remote Chile, with his wife, Lucia (Gloria Münchmeyer), and loyal and an attentive butler (Alfredo Castro). Since getting his first taste of blood licking Marie Antoinette’s plasma off the blade of a guillotine during the French Revolution, he’s been a power-hungry tyrant, most recently taking control of Chile until his “death” in 1990.
Hidden from view for decades, surviving on human heart smoothies he whips up in a blender, he is now in the throes of an existential crisis, troubled by what he perceives as the injustices of his legacy and the ennui of eternal life. “Some people live longer than they should,” he says.
Dispirited, he’s given up drinking blood, and is wasting away, but just as his immortality appears to be finding an end point, some unwelcome visitors—his five inheritance hungry children and a young nun (Paula Luchsinger) with exorcism on her mind—give the undead monster a reason to live.
Shooting in luscious, gothic black and white, Chilean director Pablo Larraín and cinematographer Ed Lachman recall F. W. Murnau and the Expressionist films of the 1920s and 30s. But just as the movie subverts what a political satire can be, the look of the movie also throws expectations off-kilter. The stately black and white suggests classic horror but the film’s grimly funny and witty script is closer on the laugh-a-minute meter to “Young Frankenstein” than “Dracula.” It’s not exactly a giggle fest, it is, after all, about the existence and persistence of evil, but it does trade in dark comedy in a way that Tod Browning never could have imagined.
The vampire allegory—that Pinochet is a parasite who sucked the life blood of his people—isn’t the most subtle, but it does have bite, sinking its teeth into the legacy of a monster.
Although “El Conde” veers off track near the mid-section, the sheer audacity of the idea and a third act reveal gets it back on track. It’s the most original vampire film to come along in years and one of the best sociopolitical satires this side of Armando Iannucci.
Kristen Stewart may always be best known for playing Bella Swan, the young woman who fell in love with a vampire, in the “Twilight” series but if that lifestyle choice seemed scary, it has nothing on the atmosphere of dread in her new movie. “Spencer,” a new impressionistic biopic of Lady Diana (born Diana Spencer) and now playing in theatres, sees her embroiled in a tale of real-life Gothic horror.
It’s Christmas, 1991 at Sandringham House, one of Queen Elizabeth’s country homes. The Royal Family has assembled for their annual holiday celebrations, complete with protocols, paparazzi, strange Royal traditions, disapproving looks, a ghost and the prying eyes of as Equerry Major Alistair Gregory (Timothy Spall). Despite being surrounded by people, including husband Prince Charles (Jack Farthing) and sons William (Jack Nielen) and Harry (Freddie Spry), she feels alone except for her lone confidant is Maggie (Sally Hawkins), her tailor and best friend.
It is, as a title card tells us, a “fable based on a real tragedy,” and over the course of almost two hours we experience Diana’s life years after the fairy tale wedding. Her marriage is crumbling, a she’s battling an eating disorder and the gap between perception of her private life and public persona is widening.
That Sandringham is located next to Park House, the home she grew up in and harbors many happy memories about, only deepens the wellspring of sorrow she feels as her life spins out of control.
“Spencer” is a portrait of the Princess of Wales at her most vulnerable and isolated but it never feels as though it is exploiting Diana. The director, Chilean auteur Pablo Larraín, working from a script by “Eastern Promises” writer Steven Knight, doesn’t turn her life into a pity party. The character is having a rough time equating her life, and the future of her children, with the reality of her situation and yet she perseveres. In the moments away from the protocols of royal life—mommy time with William and Harry or on a trip to the beach with Maggie—the veil lifts and she becomes Diana Spencer, able to leave the titles and tradition in the dust.
Stewart nails the voice and mannerisms but doesn’t try to imitate Diana, one of the world’s best-known people. Instead, she reaches deep to delicately create a portrait of a person riddled with anxiety at a crossroads in her life. Stewart, whose own experiences with an intrusive press and paparazzi have been well documented, brings that lived experience to the film. Stewart’s face during a photocall scene outside a church says it all, expertly showing the mix of duty and terror Diana must have felt toward the press who hounded her.
“Spencer” is a heightened look at Diana’s life, but it’s not all Sturm und Drang. The script is laced with Diana’s sarcastic sense of humour and the beautiful cinematography provides a somewhat serene backdrop to the cooly chaotic action. But make no mistake, the story’s underlying tension, despite a rather joyous finale, has more to do with a psychological horror film than a traditional biopic.
Less a biopic than an intimate character study, “Jackie,” sees Natalie Portman play one of the most famous women of the twentieth century, first lady Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. DirectoPablo Larraín personalizes the reaction to assassination of John F. Kennedy, presenting a portrait of grief that values rawness over slick sentimentality.
Focussing on the events immediately following November 22, 1963, the film cuts through the carefully constructed image Jacqueline Kennedy presented to the world. Instead it shows her as a grieving widow struggling to fulfil her personal responsibilities under the scrutiny of the American people and White House staff.
Larraín employs a standard biopic starting point—an interview with a journalist (Billy Crudup)—to frame the tale, but then throws all other familiar biographical approaches out the window. Kennedy’s story is a tragic one played out on the world stage and yet the film is never mawkish. It is a look at the end of “Camelot”—the musical and the ideological state of mind it personified for the Kennedy administration—as a psychological portrait of the woman at the very centre of it all.
Portman plays Kennedy not from the point of view of history—she is remembered for her grace and dignity—but as a woman fraying around the edges as she ponders the gravity of her situation and the legacy that will be left behind. She doesn’t look like Kennedy but, in a performance largely captured in close up, creates a portrait that seamlessly blends the poised, public Kennedy persona with a woman on the verge of a breakdown. It is often harrowing and certainly shows a different side of Kennedy than any other look at the subject.
“Jackie” is a bold film that values visceral feelings over glossy convention. It presumes much in its efforts to peer into the cracks of history, taking abundant artistic licence with what some will see as an intrusive look into Kennedy’s life. This is not “Camelot,” it’s the flipside of that romantic fairy tale.
