SYNOPSIS: A story of legacy and spirituality, in “The Piano Lesson,” starring Samuel L. Jackson, John David Washington and Danielle Deadwyler, and now playing in theatres, a treasured heirloom reveals a family’s past and possibly its future.
CAST: August Wilson, Samuel L. Jackson, John David Washington, Ray Fisher, Michael Potts, Erykah Badu, Skylar Aleece Smith, Danielle Deadwyler, and Corey Hawkins. Directed by Malcolm Washington.
REVIEW: “The Piano Lesson,” based on the 1987 stage play by August Wilson, isn’t about practicing scales or learning to read music. It’s a story about honoring ancestors, generational trauma, self-determination and facing the ghosts that haunt.
The story begins in 1911 Mississippi with the Charles Brothers and the theft of an ornate upright piano from the home of former slave owners, the Sutter family. Decorated with carvings on the front and sides, we later learn that the piano’s art is a history of the Charles family, carved by an enslaved relative.
Cut to 1936 Pittsburgh. The piano now rests in the front room of the home of Doaker Charles (Samuel L. Jackson), his niece Berniece (Danielle Deadwyler), her young daughter Maretha (Skylar Aleece Smith), and a ghost Berniece is convinced lives upstairs.
The relative calm of their lives is upended when Berniece ‘s brother Boy Willie (John David Washington) arrives from Mississippi with Lymon (Ray Fisher) with a plan to make money to buy the land where his family had once been enslaved. Trouble is, his plan involves selling the piano and Berniece will not hear of it.
The story is layered, and crisply complex, a tangle of emotion, the paranormal and family dynamics. In his directorial debut Malcolm Washington opens up the story with some brief flashbacks to Mississippi and some outside scenes, but the action here mostly takes place in the Charles house. It lends a stage bound feel to the film, and yet, the topflight performances and dialogue never allow “The Piano Lesson” to become overly theatrical in its claustrophobic setting.
It’s about the words, the ideas, and characters so carefully written each and every one of them could be the star of their own story. As it is, it’s an ensemble, that spreads the wealth, allowing each actor to shine. As the easy-going Lymon, Fisher has a playful moment when he buys a suit and some ill-fitting shoes from Wining Boy (a great Michael Potts). Washington is all kinetic energy and dreams for the future, but it is Deadwyler whose presence captivates. As a grieving widow and single mother, her character is the film’s beating heart and has the widest arc, leading up to an intense crescendo in the film’s final moments.
“The Piano Lesson” is a period piece, but the topics raised by Wilson’s script remain powerful and timely.
LOGLINE: Lasagna-loving, comic-strip cat Garfield returns to the big screen with a new voice, courtesy of Chris Pratt, and a new adventure. After being abandoned by his street cat father Vic (Samuel L. Jackson) as a kitten, the orange tabby leads a life of leisure with easy-going Jon (Nicholas Hoult) and canine best friend Odie. When Vic reappears, Garfield and Odie leave the lasagna behind to embark on a risky, high-stakes heist.
CAST: Chris Pratt, Samuel L. Jackson, Hannah Waddingham, Ving Rhames, Nicholas Hoult, Cecily Strong, Harvey Guillén, Brett Goldstein, Bowen Yang, Snoop Dogg.
REVIEW: “The Garfield Movie” is a big, action-packed (and product placement heavy) movie that doesn’t really feel like a Garfield movie. It’s a big, colorful action-adventure that will entertain kids, make their eyeballs spin and inspire a giggle or three, but the essence of the character, the sardonic, lazy cat with an obsession for sleeping, has been set aside in favor of a lively, fun character who has little to do with what made the comic-strip popular in the first place.
The new Garfield loses the simplicity of the strip, instead, filling the screen with rapid fire gags and frenetic action. The animation, which feels like a cross between computer generated and the comic-strip, offers up expressive character faces and fun voice work, particularly from Waddingham, who takes a generic villain character and gives her some oomph.
Aside from the father-and-son story, which touches on the importance of family, screenwriters Paul A. Kaplan, Mark Torgove and David Reynolds keep it simple, sentimental and predictable.
“The Garfield Movie” will likely have little appeal for anyone over the age of 10, but has a silly sense of mischief that the younger members of the family may enjoy.
“Damaged,” a new crime drama starring Samuel L Jackson and Vincent Cassel, and now streaming on VOD, is a feature that feels like episodic television, right up to a cliffhanger-y ending that should come with a “To Be Continued” end credit.
When Edinburgh, Scottish police discover a body killed in a ritualistic fashion—the victim’s arms and legs are dismembered and left in a cross formation—they bring in Dan Lawson, a brilliant Chicago police detective with a drinking problem, who investigated a series of murders with the same MO years before.
“Kills five seemingly random people in Chicago,” says a Captain Ford (Mark Holden), “then lays low for six years. Do you think it’s a copycat?”
“We never published any images of how the body parts were laid out,” Lawson says. “I want in on this.”
Upon arrival, he’s told the Scottish police have never seen a case as violent as the gruesome remains left at the crime scene. But Lawson has. Five years before this same serial killer murdered his girlfriend.
As Lawson and Scottish Detective Chief Inspector Glen Boyd (Gianni Capaldi) chase down clues, the red herrings and twists keep the killer just out of reach. By the time Lawson’s former partner Bravo (Cassel), now a crime writer who designs security systems on the side, shows up, there are more bodies, including one that makes the case even more personal.
“Damaged” is a pastiche of serial killer movies with a mystical “DaVinci Code” flavor and some very charming Scottish accents. Despite the extreme situation—cops working on the murder of their loved ones—the movie follows familiar police procedural beats.
Jackson is reliably good, and it is fun to hear him do a toned-down riff on his “Pulp Fiction” Ezekiel 25:17 speech, even though for the rest of the movie he mostly recites lines straight out of Police Speak 101. Lines like “I didn’t come here to sit on the sidelines,” or “What is wrong with this picture?” bring a generic feel that permeates the rest of the film.
Truth is, there’s nothing wrong, exactly, with “Damaged.” First-time feature director Terry McDonough, has a ton of episodic television under his belt, shows like “Killing Eve,” “Better Call Saul” and “Breaking Bad” and knows how to keep the action moving along, but there’s nothing here that feels really fresh.
“Damaged” has star power and a twisty-turny plot, but feels like a small screen diversion.
English director Matthew Vaughn is best known for making high concept, high octane action movies like “Kick-Ass” and the “Kingsman” series. His new PG-13 rated spy spoof, “Argylle,” now playing in theatres, features his trademarked busy, stylistic action but feels like a toned-down—i.e. less violent, and less provocative—version of his previous work.
The chaotic story begins with Bryce Dallas Howard as bestselling but reclusive author Elly Conway. Her life is as sedate as the spy novels she writes are exciting. By day, she sends her main character, globe-trotting super-spy Argylle (Henry Cavill) and sidekicks Wyatt (John Cena) and Kiera (Ariana DeBose), off on adventures to do battle with femme fatale LaGrange (Dua Lipa) in hopes of taking down a global spy syndicate called the Directorate. After work, she spends quiet time at home with a “hot date,” her beloved cat Alfie (best spy movie cat since Blofeld’s Solomon) by her side.
That quiet life is upended when she meets a real-deal Argylle type, Aidan (Sam Rockwell), an actual spy sent to keep her safe.
“What you write in your new book actually happened,” he says, “and you kicked a hornet’s nest you didn’t even know existed.”
Turns out there is a real Agent Argylle, some very bad people who are after her and Ritter (Bryan Cranston), an unhinged spy master who thinks her books are too close to reality for comfort.
Drawn into real-world espionage, she, Aiden and the cat are thrust into a world wilder, and certainly more dangerous, than anything in any of her books.
“If you want your life back,” says Aidan, “I can give it to you. I’m the good guy here.”
A mix-and-match of “Mission Impossible,” the James Bond franchise and buddy comedies, “Argylle” is a jumbled, confusing bit of semi-fun. Cartoonish and convoluted, the movie is stuffed with over-the-top spy action, a stacked a-listy cast and a wise-cracking, scene-stealing performance from Rockwell, but never quite comes together. Loose ends strangle the story’s forward motion, Vaughn occasionally falls into the movie’s deep plot holes, and there are so many twists, not even Chubby Checker could keep up.
It isn’t until the films last half hour, of an over-long 139-minute running time, that Vaughn stages two eye-popping action sequences. A “deadly” dance number and an untraditional figure skating routine are fun, and have the kind of over-the-top energy you expect from Vaughn. Both sequences entertain the eye, but also highlight what the rest of the movie so desperately lacks.
Rockwell’s live-wire performance provides most of the film’s laughs, but they are few and far between. As for the rest of the cast, most are underused. And you have to wonder why some of them—including Samuel L. Jackson and Richard E. Grant—even bothered to show up.
“Argylle” is errs on the side of PG-13. It is an outrageous, twisty-turny idea trapped in a movie that is afraid to really cut loose.
Thirty-three movies in, the interconnected Marvel Cinematic Universe offers up “The Marvels,” a new superhero flick now playing in theatres that acts as a follow-up to the 2019 film “Captain Marvel” and a continuation of the 2022 television series “Ms. Marvel.”
Brie Larson returns as Avenger and former U.S. Air Force fighter pilot Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers. After destroying the Supreme Intelligence, the AI that ruled the alien race known as the Kree, civil war erupted, leaving their planet Hala barren, with little air or water.
In an effort to rebuild her homeland and eke out revenge on Captain Marvel, Kree revolutionary warrior Dar-Benn (Zawe Ashton) obtains one of the powerful Quantum Bands, an ancient magical bangle that matches the one worn by Kamala Khan / Ms. Marvel (Iman Vellani).
When Dar-Benn uses the power of the Band to rip a hole in the fabric of space and time, S.A.B.E.R. bigwig Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) jumps into action.
“We are at war,” he says. “Captain Marvel, we need you to save the world.”
With S.A.B.E.R. astronaut Monica Rambeau (Teyonah Parris) at her side, Captain Marvel sets off on her mission, only to discover that Dar-Benn has created an electromagnetic bond between her, Rambeau and Ms. Marvel, that causes them to switch places when they use their powers.
Imagine an interplanetary “Freaky Friday” and you’ll get the idea.
At 105 minutes, “The Marvels” is the shortest MCU film to date. In its brief running time (for a Marvel movie) it zips along at a pace ranging from frenetic to chaotic, mixing and matching heartfelt scenes of superhero bonding with slapstick comedy and large scale MCU style action scenes. The galloping pace keeps the eye busy, distracting from the film’s derivative story elements.
Also distracting, but in a good way, is Markham, Ontario’s Vellani as Ms. Marvel, starstruck Captain Marvel fan and aspiring superhero. Her wide-eyed naturalness amid the fantasy is nicely played to comedic effect. It’s a warm, big-hearted performance that stands out in a sea of kaleidoscopic CGI. Her relationships with her family, Captain Marvel and Rambeau are lovely, tethering this otherworldly movie firmly on planet earth.
“The Marvels” has a breezy, light tone and comedy that leans toward a younger audience. The chemistry between the three leads goes a long way to earn a recommendation, and who doesn’t like kittens with tentacle tongues? But the lackluster villain—Ashton is the kind of snarling world-ender we’ve seen a hundred times before—and disjointed, messy story, (even Nick Fury wonders aloud, “What the hell is going on here?”), renders the film underwhelming.
Richard makes a special cocktail to enjoy while I watch “The Protégé,” a new action thriller, starring Maggie Q, Michael Keaton and Samuel L. Jackson. Join me as he has a drink and a think about the movie!
For the second time in as many months Samuel L. Jackson plays a hitman whose family values are as strong, if not stronger, than his instinct to kill. In “The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard” he found his logical, not biological family. In “The Protégé,” now in theatres, he’s a mentor and father figure to a killer played by Maggie Q.
Q is Anna, one of the world’s most highly trained assassins. She was brought into the life of international intrigue by Moody (Jackson), a blues-guitar playing contract killer. “I’m the big bad wolf who comes to get you,” he says, “when someone on earth decides your time is up.” He rescued her in Vietnam in 1991 after her parents were killed by communist soldiers. “He didn’t save my life,” she says, “he gave me a life.”
When Moody is brutally murdered, Anna loses the one person in her life she can trust. Vowing revenge, she uses her special set of skills to find out who blew away her mentor and father figure. “I’m going to find out who killed my friend,” she says, “and I’m going to end their life and the lives of anyone who stands in my way.”
One of those people standing in her way is Rembrandt (Michael Keaton), a rival assassin who works for some very bad but well-connected people. As the plot thickens, so does the connection between Anna and Rembrandt as her investigation leads her back to where her story began, Vietnam.
“The Protégé” is a glossy revenge flick that covers well-travelled ground. There are exotic locations, elaborate action sequences, complicated alliances and a dark backstory. Richard Wenk’s screenplay hits on a greatest hits of international assassin tropes and director Martin Campbell, best known for directing the 007 comeback film “Casino Royale,” knows how to take advantage of those story elements.
So why does “The Protégé” feel like less than the sum of those parts? Perhaps it’s because the characters don’t elevate the material.
Q is a credible action star, ably handling the kinetic stunts. Jackson brings his brand of effortless cool and Keaton is quirky and mysterious and somewhat cavalier about his chosen profession. “I could put two in the back of your head,” he says after making love to Anna, “and then go make a sandwich.”
Each brings something to the movie, and while Q and Jackson have an easy way about their relationship, the chemistry between Keaton and Q feels forced. An attempt at a fight scene that leads to the bedroom, set to “That Loving Feeling” by Isaac Hayes, falls flat despite the talent on screen.
“The Protégé” aspires to be something bigger than it is. The morality of the business of killing is discussed, generational trauma is hinted at and there is a complicated (and not terribly interesting) conspiracy at play but the movie is at its best when it puts aside its notions of gravitas and concentrates on the primal aspect of the story, Anna’s quest for revenge.
“The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard,” the odd couple buddy flick starring Ryan Reynolds and Samuel L. Jackson and now playing in theatres, is a story about finding your logical, not biological family, disguised as violent shoot ‘em up comedy.
As the movie begins Michael Bryce (Reynolds) is “like a belly dancer without a torso.” He’s lost his bodyguard license and is in therapy. Tormented by bad dreams, he’s fixated on a customer who was killed by hitman Darius Kincaid (Jackson) while on his watch. On sabbatical in Capri (“like the pants”) Italy, he imagines a world without bodyguards or guns.
But his newfound inner peace doesn’t last long. Just as he is shaking off his old life he is drawn back into the game, hunted down by Sonia Kincaid (Salma Hayek), who uses fire power and moxy to lure him out of semi-retirement to rescue her husband, Darius. That’s right, the guy who has been haunting Michael’s dreams.
As the bodies pile up in the wake of their rescue attempt, it turns out Darius actually said, “Get me anyone BUT Michael Bryce!” Nonetheless, this mismatched trio work together to prevent a madman (Antonio Banderas) from destroying Europe and throwing the world into chaos.
“The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard” is a sequel to the equally noisy 2017 film “The Hitman’s Bodyguard” but despite the appealing leads and the addition of Hayek, Banderas and Morgan Freeman, doesn’t have the same silly charm. The first movie was an over-the-top mish mash of exotic locations, violence, jokes and romance. The sequel contains all those elements, but is somehow less than the sum of its parts.
Given the talent involved, this should be more fun.
Reynolds works his way with a line like a master tradesman, recalling the kind of goofy smart aleck characters he played early in his career. Jackson makes use of his expertise with swearwords and is only upstaged by Hayek, whose entertaining use of salty language would make a sailor blush. But, take away those sweary flourishes, and you’re left with is a few quick laughs, casual video game violence, a body count that rivals the “Lord of the Rings” franchise and an unconvincing attempt at sentimentality.
Between the gun battles is a thinly sketched subplot about finding family wherever you can, but it is played for laughs and gets lost in the ballet of bullets and explosions.
“The Hitman’s Wife’s Bodyguard” is pure escapism, a loud, brash movie that mixes well with popcorn, but leaves a funny aftertaste in your mouth.
