If a movie starring Riz Ahmed about a musician sidelined by a medical condition sounds familiar, it should. Last year he was nominated for Best Actor for playing a heavy metal drummer suffering hearing loss in “Sound of Metal.” He returns to theatres this week in “Mogul Mowgli,” a rap drama that treads similar ground but with a whole new attitude.
Ahmed, who co-wrote the script with director Bassam Tariq, stars as Zaheer, a London-born rapper known as Zed to his growing number of fans. His lyrics focus on racism, Islamophobia and the issues he faced as a young British Pakistani man.
Based in New York City, he’s about to embark on a European tour. His soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend (Aiysha Hart)—she’s grown tired of their FaceTime relationship while he’s on the road—thinks he needs to get grounded, to reconnect with his family in England. “For someone who raps so much about where they’re from,” she says, “when was the last time you went home? When was the last time you actually spent time with your family?”
He returns to England, welcomed by his family, even if they disapprove of his career and choices. “I can’t give you my blessing,” says his restaurateur father Bashir (Alyy Khan), “if I don’t believe in it.”
Following a scuffle with a fan, he finds himself in the hospital, diagnosed with a degenerative autoimmune disease.
What exactly is wrong? “Your body can’t recognize itself,” his doctor says, “so it’s attacking itself.”
“If you can walk from that chair to that lift,” says his doctor pointing to the elevator ten feet away, “I’ll discharge you.” He can’t, and his treatment begins as he feels his career slip away.
“Mogul Mowgli” is anchored by a raw nerve of a performance from Ahmed. Bruised, physically and mentally, from the indignity of disease and his dreams slipping away, he vacillates between helplessness and anger, sadness and frustration. It’s powerful but most of all, human. He doesn’t play Zed simply as tragic. He’s often unlikeable, often unsympathetic. You know, human.
Often shot in searing close-up, and dotted with surreal sequences, “Mogul Mowgli” is in your face both visually and emotionally. The stark reality of Zed’s disease is tempered by dreamlike sequences that illustrate the chasm between where he came from, to as he imagined it would be to where it is today. It’s a study of cultural identity, divides in families, how illness defines relationships and masculine ambition. It occasionally bites off more than it can chew, but as uncomfortable as it can get, it is never less than compelling.
“Sound of Metal,” a new drama starring “Rogue One’s” Riz Ahmed, is a cautionary tale about getting what you wish for.
Ahmed is Ruben, a drummer in Blackgammon, a heavy metal duo fronted by his girlfriend Lou (Olivia Cooke). The pair live in an RV, criss-crossing the country on tour before going into the studio to make an album. He’s an aggressive player, part Lars Ulrich, part Chuck Biscuits, whose booming style is the sound of frustration and bellicosity manifested on stage six nights a week. At a gig in Missouri his ears ring and soon stop working. On stage and off all he hears is a muffled roar. A visit to the doctor reveals he has lost more than seventy percent of his hearing is gone and won’t come back. “Eliminate all exposure to loud noises,” he’s told. “Your first responsibility is to preserve the hearing you have left.”
As he and Lou try and plot a way forward Ruben becomes obsessed with the idea of cochlear implant surgery than accepting his hearing loss. At a cost of $40-$80,000 they are out of reach for now so in the short-term Lou takes Ruben, who has been sober for four years, to a “clean” house, run by deaf counselor Joe (Paul Raci). He’s welcome to stay but this is a solo gig. As Ruben learns how to be deaf Lou must give him space. In the coming weeks anger and dissatisfaction lead to acceptance as he learns about his new life but never lets go of the idea that implants will allow him to return to his old life. “Our main tenet is that deafness is not a handicap,” says Joe, “not something to be fixed.”
“Sound of Metal” makes you walk a mile in Ruben’s shoes. Applying immersive sound design, writer-director Darius Marder toggles between Ruben’s point-of-view and real-world sounds. The muffled sound of the world filtered through his damaged ears portray his sensory deprivation in an intense way. As his desperation and frustration grow the sound design hammers home the devastating effects of hearing loss.
In addition, Marder close captions much of the film, dropping the subtitles when Ruben is learning sign language, once again involving the audience in his learning curve.
As Ruben, Ahmed brings a nervous energy to the role. He’s always in motion, unable to find a still moment for contemplation or acceptance. As his frustration gives way to a reluctant acceptance, he brings us along for the journey, giving us insight into a person’s whose life has been blown apart.
Raci as Joe, a Vietnam vet who lost his hearing in the war emerges as a force. In real life Raci grew up with deaf parents, is a Court Certified American Sign Language interpreter, and the lead singer for a heavy metal band that performs in American Sign Language. With great warmth, tinged with firmness, he steals every scene he’s in.
“Sound of Metal” is specific in its setting but ultimately is a story of accepting the curveballs life throws at you.
“Venom,” the first film in the brand-spanking-new Sony Marvel Universe, gives us not one but two Tom Hardy performances. In a dual role the Oscar nominee plays Eddie Brock, an investigative reporter with an aw-shucks accent and the title character, an amorphous sentient alien who requires a host, usually human, to bond with for its survival. It’s kind of an anti-superhero Jekyll and Hyde situation where Ed and Venom are a hybrid, two beings in one body.
If you are still reading and processing this, you might enjoy “Venom.” If not, you’ve probably already purchased tickets for “A Star is Born.”
When we first meet Brock he’s the host of a popular television show. When he is assigned to interview genius inventor Carlton Drake (Riz Ahmed), he goes off script, asking some difficult and embarrassing questions. His rogue behaviour costs him everything, his job, his girlfriend (Michelle Williams) and his house. To get revenge he breaks into Drake’s facility with an eye toward exposing Drake’s evil doings. Instead he ends up merged with the extraterrestrial symbiote Venom, becoming a toothy creature with a tongue that would make Gene Simmons envious.
Bestowed with superhuman strength and power, he must learn how to manage his not only his new gifts but also his rage. “The way I see it we can do what we want,” Venom says to his host.
“Venom’s” advertising tagline, “The world has enough Superheroes,” refers to the titular character’s anti-hero status but could also be a comment on the surplus of comic book characters seen on screens in recent years. So, is Venom one superhero too many? Maybe, depending on your level of fandom.
Comic book heads may complain about the absence of Spider-Man, the symbiote’s original host, and other deviations from the canon. But, on the flip side, the body-horror aspect of Venom’s metamorphosis coupled with the inherent humour of Eddie and Venom’s interactions are brought to vivid life by Hardy’s commitment.
Structurally, for fans, “Venom” offers something different from the Marvel formula. By the time Hardy is flailing around in a restaurant lobster tank there will be no mistaking this for anything that came before it.
Casual viewers may not be as interested. The first half, the origin story, gloomily drags on leading up to the Eddie’s transformation. Then it’s followed by a series of darkly lit chase scenes as Drake’s baddies try and stop Venom.
The there are the women. In the “Wonder Woman” world we live in it’s a disappointment that Williams, as Eddie’s girlfriend, and Jenny Slate, as a scientist working for Drake’s Life Foundation, are underwritten, acting as placeholders more than actual characters.
“Venom” has its moments, but it’s hard to tell whether we’re laughing with or at the movie. It feels unintentionally funny, as if all the actors except for Hardy understood they were acting in a generic comic book movie. He’s a hoot, the movie isn’t.
Based on a historical novel by Canadian-born author Patrick deWitt “The Sisters Brothers” is a buddy Western that, for better and for worse, doesn’t rely on the clichés associated with buddy flicks or Westerns.
Set in 1851 Oregon, “The Sisters Brothers” tells parallel stories. First we meet the brothers, Eli (Reilly) and Charlie Sisters (Joaquin Phoenix). The pair are bounty hunters and all-round thugs for hire, currently working for a mysterious Oregon City mob boss known only as the Commodore (Rutger Hauer in a wordless cameo). “You do realize our father was stark raving mad and his foul blood runs in us,” Charlie says to his big bro. “Its why were good at what we do.” Violent and ruthless, wherever they go a heap of sorrow is left behind.
Their latest job is to meet detective John Morris (Jake Gyllenhaal) who is to hand off Hermann Kermit Warm (Riz Ahmed), a chemist-turned-gold-prospector who has developed a formula to make searching for gold a scientific rather than physical procedure. It’s a chemical mixture that, when poured in the river, lights up the gold. All you have to do is reach in and pick it up
It’s a get rich quick scheme and the Commodore desperately wants to get his hands on it. Warm’s ultimate goal is much more pure. He has visions of using the gold money to create a new society in Texas that favours nonviolence, education and true democracy. Morris the hunter becomes the hunted when Warm appeals to his better nature. Moved by warm’s plea—“The Sisters will cut off my fingers, burn my feet,” he says—Morris becomes a business partner. The big question? What will happen if and when the Sister Brothers catch up with them?
The four leads play tough guys and cowboys who spend as much time discussing their feelings as they do firing their guns. The brothers have daddy issues—he was a violent alcoholic—while Morris hated his father for any number of sins, both personal and professional.
The brothers bicker constantly. Eli, a great lummox who, at first glance seems ill suited for the job at hand and yet never hesitates to shoot an adversary in the head, is sensitive and wants to settle down. Charlie, on the other hand, is a wild card, with a hair trigger and a more limited idea as to what the future may or may not bring.
The conversations range from heartfelt to funny and are the engine that propels the action. There are shoot-outs and horses and all the other tropes of the genre but this story is actually about the guys, not their actions. A John Wayne oater this ain’t. Instead it is a movie that explores the masculine bond that lies at the heart of so may westerns but is never fully explored.
“The Sisters Brothers” is a story about family, purpose and male bonding made human by a sensitive performance from Reilly (who also produced) and his chemistry with Phoenix. It’s a buddy flick and a Western but it’s also more than the sum of its parts.
From CTVnews.ca: “Despite being two completely different genres appealing to very different moviegoers, Lady Gaga’s fans are reportedly trashing Sony Pictures’ ‘Venom’ supervillain film online because it’s opening on the same day as the pop star’s own romantic drama ‘A Star Is Born.'” Read the whole article HERE!
Based on the play Blackbird by Scottish playwright David Harrower, the new film Una is an uncomfortable look into an uncomfortable subject.
“In the theatre it is kind of like a verbal boxing match,” says Una’s director Benedict Andrews. “You are trapped in the same room with the two protagonists as they face each other off. There is a profound shift that happens once it becomes cinema. After living with the film for a while I think the film hurts a lot more than the play ever did.”
Rooney Mara plays the title character, a 20-something who takes action after seeing a picture of Ray, played by Ben Mendelsohn, in a magazine. The two have a past. Fifteen years earlier, when she was 13 and Ray was a middle-aged man, he seduced her, a crime he paid for with four years in prison.
Convinced his actions put her in a downward spiral, she goes to his place of work to confront him. He’s re-established himself with a new name, wife and job. She demands to know why he did what he did, and why he abandoned her when they were about to make a run for it and leave England to start a new life together.
Andrews first directed the play in November 2005 but had no interest in revisiting his previous work.
“There will continue to be fine productions of the play because it really is one of the best chamber plays of this century,” he says.
“It is rich material for actors and provocative and rich material for audiences. Neither of us wanted to make a well-made version of the play. It had to become distinct. I sometimes see them as two children coning from the same DNA. In many ways I’m trying to respect and amplify the core of the play.”
What might have been a straightforward story of a search for answers defies preconceived audience expectations with the ethical landmines Andrews and Harrower (who also wrote the script) plant along the way. In its most startling turn Una asks the audience to consider the interaction between Ray and Una, the abuser and the abused, as some kind of love story.
“This is about two people who see each other after 15 years,” he says, “the chemical charge of that meeting and their encounter is a profoundly cinematic idea. I was interested in how the camera might be able to pursue a special intimacy, the scar tissue opening up again between these two characters, and being able to microscope in on that scar tissue.”
Although the play was first performed 12 years ago, Andrews calls it “prescient” in the wake of recent events that have shone a light on sexual abuse in Hollywood.
“Part of the intelligence of the play is the way (Harrower) unpacks the moral problems of the survivor and the abuser relationship,” Andrews says.
“Thankfully that silence is breaking in journalistic and legal ways. We’ve seen that over the course of the week with the dam bursting about the systemic abuse of actresses within the Harvey Weinstein story. From my point of view it wasn’t necessarily a conscious thing although I think the play absolutely touches a raw nerve now and is part of a conversation that needs to happen about a topic that was kept in silence.”
Based on the play “Blackbird” by Scottish playwright David Harrower, “Una” is an uncomfortable look into an uncomfortable subject.
Rooney Mara is the title character, a twenty-something who takes action after seeing a picture of Ray (Ben Mendelsohn) in a magazine. The two have a past. Fifteen years earlier, when she was thirteen and Ray was a middle-aged man, he seduced her, a crime he paid for with four years in prison. “You wanted to be treated like an adult,” Ray says. “That’s what children say.”
Convinced his actions put her in a downward spiral, she goes to his place of work to confront him. He’s re-established himself with a new name, wife and job. She demands to know why he did what he did, and why he abandoned her when they were about to make a run for it and leave England to start a new life together.
What might have been a straightforward story of a search for answers defies preconceived audience expectations with the ethical landmines Harrower (who also wrote the script) plants along the way. In its most startling turn “Una” asks the audience to consider the interaction between Ray and Una, the abuser and the abused, as some kind of love story. Rooney and Mendelsohn, both very good in difficult roles, explore the thin lines the story draws between abuse and love, between right and wrong, between desire and guilt. It’s complicated and messy as Ray is forced to confront a past he’d rather subvert while Una looks for answers. “I don’t know anything about you except you abused me,” she says.
“Una” lurches headlong into controversial territory, unflinchingly presenting a painful story that offers no easy answers.
Like a lot of kids Riz Ahmed liked Star Wars. Unlike most kids he grew up to be part of the franchise, playing pilot Bodhi Rook in Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. Hear his story here in Richard’s CTV NewsChannel interview.
In the latest Jason Bourne movie, Matt Damon will punch, kick and spy master his way to the top of the box office charts.
His previous Bourne films, Identity, Supremacy and Ultimatum, were all hits commercially and critically.
Damon says he owes a great deal to the fictional character.
After the early success of Good Will Hunting, Saving Private Ryan and The Talented Mr. Ripley made him a star, a string of flops cooled his box office appeal.
“Right before The Bourne Identity came out,” he said, “I hadn’t been offered a movie in a year.”
Then his career was Bourne again.
“It’s incalculable how much these movies have helped my career,” he told The Telegraph. “Suddenly it put me on a short list of people who could get movies made.”
In the spirit of “one for them, one for me” for every film like The Martian or the new Jason Bourne, Damon has attached himself to smaller, riskier projects.
He lent his star power to The Good Shepherd, a low budget film directed by Robert De Niro. It’s a spy movie without the bells and whistles we’ve come to expect from our favorite undercover operatives.
There are no elaborate chase scenes a la James Bond or even the great scenery of the Bourne flicks.
In fact, the only thing The Good Sheperd shares with any of those movies is Damon, who plays Edward Wilson, one of the (fictional) founders of the CIA.
Despite mixed to good reviews — USA Today gave the film three out of four stars—and winning the Silver Bear of the prestigious Berlin International Film Festival, the movie barely earned back its production costs at the box office.
Ninety per cent of director Steven Soderbergh’s job on The Informant! was casting this mostly true tale of a highly paid executive-turned-whistleblower who helped uncover a price fixing policy that landed several executives (including himself) in jail.
It’s a tricky balancing act to find an actor who can keep the audience on-board through a tale of corporate malfeasance and personal greed, who can be likeable but is actually a liar and a thief, but Damon is the guy.
The Informant! skewed a tad too far into art house territory to be Soderbergh’s new Erin Brockovich-sized hit, but Damon’s presence kept the story of accounting, paperwork and avarice interesting. Reviews were kind but A Serious Man and The Twilight Saga: New Moon buried the film on its opening weekend.
Damon teamed with John Krasinski to produce and co-write Promised Land, a David and Goliath story that relied on the charm and likability of its cast to sell the idea that fracking is bad and the corporations who dupe cash-strapped farmers into leasing their land are evil.
It’s hard to make talk of water table pollution dramatic but Promised Land makes an attempt by giving much of the heavy lifting to Damon.
Done in by middling reviews and “sobering” box office receipts, this earnest and well-meaning movie might have been better served in documentary form.
With an Oscar on his shelf and more than 70 films on his resume Damon is philosophical about the kinds of films he chooses to make, big or small.
“If people go to those movies, then yes, that’s true, big-time success,” he says.
