LOGLINE: Bobby Cannavale plays Max Brandel, a stand-up comedian struggling to co-parent his autistic 10-year-old son Ezra (William Fitzgerald) with ex-wife Jenna (Rose Byrne). Since the divorce Max has spiraled, his once thriving career is in tatters. When he isn’t on stage oversharing about his personal life, he’s living with father Stan (Robert De Niro), a plain-spoken man, nicknamed Pop Pop, who Max barely tolerates. “Pop Pop,” says Max, “that’s appropriate. He’s like two gunshots, one to the head, one to the heart.”
When a doctor suggests treating Ezra’s impulsive behavior with medication and special schooling, Max uses an audition for a spot on “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” as an excuse to take Ezra, without Janna’s permission, on a cross-country road trip from New York to Los Angeles.
“I don’t want him in his own world,” Max says. “I want him in this world!”
CAST: Bobby Cannavale, Rose Byrne, Robert De Niro, Rainn Wilson, Vera Farmiga, Whoopi Goldberg, Jimmy Kimmel, Tony Goldwyn (who also directs).
REVIEW: This fractured family story, while episodic in nature, is bolstered by two stand-out lead performances and a strong supporting cast. Fitzgerald, who is neurodivergent, delivers natural work without the precociousness that sometimes mars the performances of younger actors.
As Max, a jittery comic with a short fuse and a big heart, Cannavale hands in career best work that both captures the cadences of a seasoned stand-up and the desperation of a loving father who makes bad decisions.
Together, their work feels honest and raw, a perfect match with the film’s weather-beaten tone.
Outside the main performances, the movie thrives off the small details. The way Vera Farmiga, as Max’s childhood friend, greets him after not seeing him for years, is all warmth and cuddles. Byrne’s gentle interactions with Ezra provide welcome tender moments, even when she is faced with the difficult decisions surrounding the institutionalization of her son.
Less effective is the story’s tendency toward emotional exploitation. The film’s road trip may be its liveliest portion, but as it winds through to its conclusion in Kimmel’s studio, screenwriter Tony Spiridakis and director Goldwyn, unleash a cascade of emotionality that threatens to wash away the more interesting, perceptive family drama that came before.
The result is a somewhat manipulative, but heartfelt look at the extremes parents will go to get the best for their children.
As if flying in real life wasn’t bad enough these days, along comes “Plane,” a new Gerard Butler resourceful hero movie, that brings the experience of a terrible flight to your local theatre.
The story begins on New Year’s Eve aboard the half empty Trailblazer flight 119. Butler is Brodie Torrance, a widowed pilot with a far-a-way look in his eye and a daughter in Hawaii he doesn’t see often enough.
In the cabin are the usual assortment of b-movie types, the hot-headed American, giggling teens posting on social media, the brash Brit, and, of course, Louis Gaspare (Mike Colter), an accused murderer being extradited to face trial.
When a lightning strike forces a crash landing on Jolo, a remote Philippine island run by heavily armed anti-government militias, Torrance must pull out all the stops to save his passengers.Meanwhile, at Trailblazer’s New York headquarters, a crisis management team lead by the tough-as-nails David Scarsdale (Tony Goldwyn), manages the situation from afar.
As action movies go, even with the relatively low expectations that come from an action film with Butler’s name above the title, “Plane” is about as bland as airline food. From its blunt, one word title and one dimensional characters, to its clumsy action scenes and Ed Wood style “toy airplane in flight” sequences, the Jean-François Richet-directed, so-called thriller fails to take flight.
Butler does what he can, grimacing and, occasionally flashing the charisma that made him a star in the first place, while spitting out trademarked action movie dialogue.
“That’s your plan?” asks one of the passengers after Torrance details a risky move. “Do you have a better one?” he replies, echoing a thousand action stars that came before him.
Worse than that, Richet and screenwriters Charles Cumming and J. P. Davis, don’t trust the audience. It’s not enough to show the lightning strike and the havoc it creates. We must also be told that the plane was hit with “enough juice to light a city.” We know. We just saw it. How about giving us new information, or, failing that, interesting dialogue?
If there were still DVD delete bins at the local video store, “Plane” would be gathering dust at the bottom of the barrel.
“Plane” feels like being stuck in the middle seat on a long flight.
Richard joins CTV NewsChannel and anchor Lois Lee to have a look at new movies coming to VOD, streaming services and theatres including the rebooted “Ghostbusters: Afterlife,” the fourth film in “Ghostbusters” franchise, the inspirational new Will Smith movie “King Richard” and Benedict Cumberbatch in “The Power of the Dog.”
Like all good sports films “King Richard,” the crowd-pleasing look at the early life of tennis superstars Venus (Saniyya Sidney) and Serena Williams (Demi Singleton), isn’t really about the sport. Sure, the action builds toward the climatic 1994 tennis match that made Venus a household name, but it is more about the back-and-forth between the family members than it is about batting a ball back-and-forth.
Exec-produced by Venus and Serena, “King Richard” begins with a plan and determination.
Compton, California parents Richard Williams (Will Smith) and Oracene “Brandy” Price (Aunjanue Ellis) are raising their five daughters with love, discipline and a plan. Tunde (Mikayla LaShae Bartholomew), Isha (Danielle Lawson) and Lyndrea (Layla Crawford) are all successful students in school, top of their class, but the film focusses on Venus and Serena, the tennis prodigies and subjects of Richard’s 78-page plan. It’s a bulky document written before their births, that lays out the steps to personal and professional success on the tennis court.
Richard’s mantra is, “If you fail to plan, you are planning to fail.”
He is tireless in his devotion to Venus and Serena, training the pre-teens on a neighborhood court as if they were already playing at a professional level. The odds are stacked against them—the chances of one family producing this kind of genius, Richard is told, is like one family producing two Mozarts—but their talent, nurtured by both Richard and Oracene, and an unwavering allegiance to the plan, point them in the direction of Wimbledon and beyond.
“I think you might have the next Michael Jordan on your hands,” says tennis coach Rick Macci.
“No,” Richard replies, “I got two.”
“King Richard” may be the most inspiration movie of the year. Maybe ever. There is uplift in almost every frame. From Richard’s unswerving support for all his children and Oracene’s ability to always know the right thing to say, to Venus and Serena’s journey to the top in a sport typically dominated by white people, the movie exists in a tidal wave of heart-warming emotion.
It is occasionally cloying but Smith, in a career best performance, finds the complexities in Richard’s character. To call him single-minded is an understatement. “You are the most stubborn man I ever met,” says Paul Cohen (Tony Goldwyn), “and I coach John McEnroe.”
In real life the press asked aloud if Richard was a dreamer or a huckster, but the film digs deeper to reveal a man whose worldview was formed by childhood trauma. He wants his kids to have the childhood he never did, one filled with love, achievement and safety. Some of his most baffling decisions, in terms of the advancement of their careers, are rooted in his desire to protect his daughters, not exploit them.
When Venus wants to go pro at age 14, he tells her that decision is about more than the game. She will be representing “every little Black girl on earth,” he says, and he wants to protect her from that burden for as long as he can.
Smith is both cocky and vulnerable in the role, using his trademarked charisma in a different way. His usual swager is gone, replaced by determination and obstinance, and it’s a fascinating character study.
Smith is surrounded by a terrific cast whose naturalistic performances set the tone for this family drama.
“King Richard” doesn’t reinvent the film biopic wheel. Characters still make big pronouncements like, “Forget Ali and Frazier. If she wins this will be the biggest upset in the history of sports,” and it follows a linear path, but the indelible message of the power of family resonates.
The name Mark Felt was one of Washington DC’s best-kept secrets for years. From 1972 to 2005 theories and rumours echoed through the halls of power as to the real name of Deep Throat, the pseudonym given to the secret informant who provided information to Bob Woodward that kick started the Watergate scandal. Now that it’s known that the mysterious figure was actually Mark Felt, the Deputy Associate Director of the FBI, how is it possible to make a cloak-and-dagger thriller out of the story when even the name, the lengthy, “Mark Felt – The Man Who Brought Down the White House,” gives away the plot?
The film begins as stone-faced keeper of secrets Felt, played by Liam Neeson, learns his boss of thirty years, FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, has died. It is presumed that, given his years of experience and service—he’s the G-man’s G-man—that he’ll be offered the top job. “You’re the chief dragon slayer and keeper of the American dream,” says his wife Audrey (Diane Lane).
His new case looks promising as well. He and his team are investigating a break-in at the Democratic National Committee headquarters at the Watergate office complex in Washington. It’s a case that Felt feels will have major repercussions, perhaps leading to the very top office in the land, President Nixon’s Oval Office.
His dreams of running the F.B.I. and breaking the explosive Watergate case are scuttled when Hoover’s job goes to an assistant attorney general from Nixon’s Justice Department, L. Pat Gray (Marton Csokas). “Hoover is gone,” Felt is told. “You’re alone now holding the end of your own leash.” Felt, once the second in command is now the odd man out. More than that, Gray wants the Watergate investigation shut down. “You are never going to find what you were looking for,” says Gray. “End it. Shut it down.”
Felt knows the burglars are all ex CIA and FBI with connections to the Committee to Re-Elect the President so rather than let it drop he turns to the press and becomes the most famous—and for a time anonymous—whistleblower in American political history.
“Mark Felt – The Man Who Brought Down the White House” is a timely look at the role of the FBI versus the White House. Much of Felt’s dialogue—lines like, “No one can stop the driving force of an FBI investigation. Not even the FBI.”—feel like they could have been lifted from James Comey’s Congressional testimony. The story predates Presidents Ford, Jimmy Carter, two Bushes, Bill Clinton and Barack Obama but feels ripped from today’s headlines.
Déjà vu aside, there isn’t much else here of interest. Neeson is the very model of a company man, someone who gave his life to the FBI only to see outside forces—i.e. Nixon’s White House—compromise the Bureau’s effectiveness. “We don’t answer to them,” he grunts. “The White House has no authority on the FBI.” It’s a compelling reason but Neeson is so stoic he’s barely a character and more a mound of finely sculpted grey hair with an attitude. As Felt he has a very particular set of skills. Skills he has acquired over a very long career. Skills that include stoicism. If you don’t give him what he wants he will hunt you down and tell you secrets.
A grafted on story about his missing, possibly radicalized daughter, does nothing to humanize the man who has spent a career as a cipher and only distracts from the intrigue.
“Mark Felt – The Man Who Brought Down the White House” is based on an explosive story and should be an engaging picture of the backrooms of power and the machinations that brought down a government. Instead it is a talky affair that relies on exposition rather than thrills.
When James Gunn isn’t ripping up the box office with big budget “Guardians of the Galaxy” movies he occasionally let’s his freak flag fly by writing smaller, stranger movies like “The Belko Experiment.” A grisly look at human nature, it’s a riff on the bloody Japanese cult film “Battle Royale” with brains and plenty of brain splatter.
It’s just another day at the office for Belko Industries workers. Housed in a monolithic building outside Bogotá, Columbia city limits, the non-profit company facilitates the hiring of American workers in South America. Today, like every day before, the workers answer phones, drink coffee, talk about their weekends and some even pass the time flirting.
It’s just like any other day except today new security at the front gate sent all the Columbian nationals home. Then an announcement came over the loudspeaker. “There are currently 80 of you in the building,” says a mysterious voice. “By the end of the day many of you will be dead. To survive you must follow instructions. First order: murder any two employees. Doesn’t matter how but there will be repercussions if there aren’t two bodies in half an hour.”
Some think it’s a company wide psychological test, others drift into paranoia. The workers soon learn there’s no place to hide. Surveillance is everywhere and the mysterious voice seems to have tabs on what everyone is doing. With nowhere to hide, nowhere to run panic ensues and the bodies start to pile up.
When a second announcement instructs the workers to kill thirty of the remaining staff it is every man or woman for himself or herself.
Will anyone survive? Will whoever is in charge allow anyone to tell the story of what happened? Well they work together or will they kill one another?
If blood splatter is your thing “The Belko Experiment” may appeal to you. It’s a gory, brain bursting (literally) exercise in nihilism that masquerades as an unfettered social experiment. Which is not to say it isn’t entertaining. For much of its running time it is a compelling cat-and-mouse game but by the time everyone is slipping and sliding on blood soaked floors I was left hoping for a bit more satire or social commentary and a little less sadism and plasma.
Before “The Belko Experiment” becomes all about the blood ‘n brains it does feature some interesting human behaviour by the varied and noteworthy cast. “The Newsroom’s” John Gallagher Jr. is voice of reason Mike who stands in stark contrast to the bloodthirsty survivalists Barry Norris (Tony Goldwin) and Wendell Dukes (“Office Space’s” John C. McGinley). A study in how far people will go to stay alive, it doesn’t offer many surprising answers—here’s a shocker, people will do almost anything not to be killed—but at a lean 89 minutes it’s brutally entertaining.
