Words On Flicks 2018: Top Ten Picks of the Year

Here are my top 2018 movie picks, in no particular order:

1.Black Panther: Everything that could be said about this movie has been said. It’s got so much in terms of originality, an infusion of African cultures showing up in the tribes united in Wakanda, strong female characters, a great hero’s journey, a thoughtful commentary on today’s politics, a fascinating villain in Killmonger, and so much more. It's on most viewers' top ten lists as well.

2.Amazing Grace: To see a young Aretha Franklin at the height of her powers perform live in a Baptist church is to undergo your own spiritual conversion. It’s just revelatory.

3.The Wife: I just saw this, and Glenn Close and Jonathan Pryce are amazing as a long-married couple whose close association and unequal working partnership is cracked in the glare of the husband’s winning the Nobel in Literature.

4.Blindspotting: An eye-level take on a young black man’s struggle to overcome a prison bid, racism, and apathy in Oakland. Kudos to lead Daveed Diggs.

5.The Hate U Give: This is both a story of what it is to straddle cultures for young black people today, and a textbook in how to rise up and speak out against institutional racism.

6.Widows: Viola Davis gives a great performance as a complicated woman who must test her mental and physical mettle when her criminal husband’s apparent death leaves her vulnerable to a local gang.

7.A Star Is Born: The twin siren songs of celebrity and love intertwine in Bradley Cooper’s take on this classic story. Lady Gaga is refreshing and Cooper stretches out in their roles as we see a true love connection blossom then weaken in the spotlight of fame.

8.Bad Times At the El Royale: Two names: Jeff Bridges and Cynthia Erivo. They are amazing performers, and together they are the soul of this movie.

9.BlackkKlansman – This is a straightforward movie about a brave brother who not only integrated a police force, but stared down racism of a more insidious and organized nature in cracking the KKK. One of Spike Lee’s most mature and fully developed films.

10.The Favourite: Women take the lead in this amusing but sobering contemporary take on an internecine power struggle to be English Queen Anne's bestie. Deception, sex, poison, ass-kissing, it's all there, as are incredible performances from the leads.

ALSO:
Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again: This movie was FUN and I just enjoyed every minute of it. It wasn’t as good as the first Mamma Mia film, but it had its moments, including a cameo by Cher.

Crazy Rich Asians: Great premise, breakthrough casting, and everyone loves a good Cinderella story.

Green Book: Despite the controversy, Viggo Mortenson and Mahershala Ali are two of the best actors in film today and they do the most with the script they were given, which tries to stress that We’re All Brothers Under the Skin, Kumbaya, feel-good vibe.

Isle of Dogs: A clever premise, though it had a somewhat complicated plot and most of the human characters spoke Japanese. The animation was so well done, and the characterizations of the dogs -- by Bryan Cranston, Edward Norton, Bill Murray, Jeff Goldblum, Bob Balaban, Scarlett Johanssen and others – was so fun. The film runs into problems by having a young white American girl become the character who saves the day, against the wisdom of a whole slew of Japanese adults. But the overall execution of this Wes Anderson-directed film is just amazing.

The Girl In The Spider's Web: Claire Foy nails the character in the latest adaptation in the book series, which finds super hacker Lisbeth Salander at the center of a botched hacking gig. Nice to see LaKeith Stanfield in a serious role here as well.

What can I say? I’m forgiving and eclectic in my tastes.

SORRY I MISSED IN 2018:
If Beale Street Could Talk
Vice
On The Basis of Sex
Ben Is Back
White Boy Rick
Vox Lux
Colette

Here's to a great 2019!

Totally Underwater: "Aquaman"

Aquaman
directed by James Wan
starring Jason Momoa, Willem Dafoe, Amber Heard, Patrick Wilson, Nicole Kidman

Recommended? Only for serious superhero fanatics. Otherwise no.

I am not a staunch follower of superhero films, but I do enjoy a good adventure yarn as well as elements of fantasy and the ongoing struggle between good and evil. The best superhero stories follow the classic Hero's Journey plot, with some snappy dialogue, good pacing, a believable alternate universe, and a sympathetic hero. Sequels should be able to stand on their own as individual films. I was stoked to see Aquaman because this hero comes from a unique world, and because, let's face it, it's Jason Momoa.

What a letdown.

Aquaman is a cool bro named Arthur Curry, whose long-lost mom was queen of Atlantis. First of all, though this film is supposed to be the Aquaman Origin Story, it's less about how Aquaman became Aquaman and more about how he became King of Atlantis despite being half human. Second: Arthur is a terrible name for a superhero; apologies to all the Arthurs out there, but it just made me think of King Arthur and the Round Table, and the whole journey to find the ancient trident of a long-dead original king of Atlantis is straight Sword In The Stone, Excalibur stuff. Third, I didn't get a feel for the adult Arthur, though we do find out that he was raised with an awareness of his underwater royal heritage, developed some cool Atlantean skills, and loves his lighthouse-keeping dad. Basically, he's ... likeable, laidback Jason Momoa. He looks the same in the film as he does in his daily life: mane of flowing hair, tats, jewelry, Polynesian origins and boots intact.

Yes, Aquaman's origins are sketched out, but at the top of the film he is already established as Aquaman, and he even makes light of his celebrity by mugging with fans for pictures. We learn that Arthur can swim like the devil, breathe underwater, has incredible strength, can take a punch or two. We see him save a Russian submarine from pirates led by a very Angry Black Man whose father and mentor ends up dying in the fight. When Pirate Pop passes, Arthur feels bad. That's how we know he's just a goodhearted dude. But I still didn't get a sense of his hopes and dreams, fears or insecurities before a Princess from the Deep shows up to drag him into the undersea beef he knows nothing about. I guess my quibble is that I would have wanted to see more about how he first took on the mantle of being Aquaman -- not just a kid who can breathe underwater and commune with sea creatures, but become a bona fide superhero who decides to do good and ally himself with the Justice League. Not having seen many of the previous Justice League-related films, I'm probably at a disadvantage.

While the underwater scenes are mostly well done in terms of flowing hair and floating objects, they are busy. In fact, the backstory lore of how Atlantis fell and turned into seven different ocean kingdoms with different creatures of varying abilities, intelligence, and alliances was just hella hard to follow. The costumes for the Atlantis folks were also Arthurian, with a lot of medieval-style armor and helmets that looked totally out of place in the ocean and raised unintentional concerns, at least in my mind, about anchor weights, rust and corrosion. Perhaps this costuming scheme came directly from the original DC Comics visuals.

Playing a trusted palace advisor with perennially slicked-back hair, Willem Dafoe looked like he was in a samurai movie. Or maybe that was him behind the fish mask in The Shape of Water. Some of the marine creatures used as transportation were unintentionally hilarious. The whole romance plotline between Arthur and Princess Mera (Heard) is cheesy. His jealous half-brother Orm (Wilson), who was fighting to keep the crown of Atlantis -- is a cardboard villain. With the film hurtling along and cramming in so much information--most of it visual CGI wizardry--there was less time to develop a story that would really invoke some emotion.

Despite the fact that Aquaman was throwing a lot of story and special effects at me, I was waiting for it to end. Also, I found the Unintentional Hilarity Quotient to be quite high in this film, which meant I was laughing at stuff I was not supposed to be laughing at. I laughed at Aquaman swimming the depths in his jeans and motorcycle boots. I guffawed at the crazy crab creatures, goofy amphibians, and manic sharks battling in the final scenes. But when the Pirate turned up again toward the middle of the film to exact revenge on Aquaman in a hi-tech armored black suit topped by a giant head with glowing red eyes, I lost it. It's Roach Man! No, The Fly! It's a Barbecued Ninja Turtle! A Super-Pissed Power Ranger! Then the character mumbled his name. "He's from Atlanta?" my sister asked. The whole "Black Manta" identity thing got lost in the film's hectic storytelling and we were left in hysterics that totally undercut the intended drama and menace of his appearance.

The teens seated in front of me were clearly annoyed by our giggling, but we couldn't help it. (Side note: The kid in front of me was really pissed by my laughter; when the movie was over I accidentally grazed him in the noggin with my Slurpee cup as I was getting out of my seat. So not only did I insult his flick, I assaulted him as well. I'm lucky he didn't call Security.)

It really doesn't matter what I think of Aquaman. Jason Momoa and Warner Bros. Pictures are laughing all the way to the bank. Meanwhile, I was laughing until tears sprang from my eyes over the spectacle of Black Manta looking like Mothra's Play Cousin LeRoy.

Slightly Less Jolly, But Still A Holiday: "Mary Poppins Returns"

Mary Poppins Returns
Directed by Rob Marshall
starring Emily Blunt, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Ben Whishaw, Emily Mortimer, Colin Firth, Julie Walters, Meryl Streep with cameos by Dick Van Dyke, Angela Lansbury and a walk-on by Karen Dotrice, the original Jane

Recommended? Yes! Fine family fare.

I wish I were a child again, if only to have experienced Mary Poppins Returns with the same sense of awe, wonder, and delight with which I experienced the original Disney Mary Poppins.

I'm afraid that I still adore that 1964 picture, with a tart Julie Andrews as the magical yet no-nonsense nanny in turn-of-the-century England. It had whimsy and pathos, the fantastical mix of animation and live action, an episodic structure, lessons about both capitalism and charity, a touch of history in Mrs. Banks' involvement in the suffragette movement, and the dazzling spectacle of incredible dance numbers. Plus those unforgettable Sherman Brothers tunes that drilled the nonsensical phrases chim-chim-cheree and supercalifragilistic and um-diddle-liddle-liddle-um-diddle-li deep into my brain.

Yes, I wish I hadn't been so profoundly affected by that so I might properly appreciate the sequel, Mary Poppins Returns.

Don't get me wrong -- the new Poppins is delightful. Played with the same stern-but-amused air by Emily Blunt, this Poppins returns some 30 years after the original to marshall the three young children of a grown-up Michael Banks (Ben Whishaw), who is looked after by his loving sister Jane (Emily Mortimer) and an overwhelmed housekeeper Ellen (Julie Walters) after the loss of his wife. The family's foundation is rocked when Michael fails to pay the mortgage and their house on Cherry Tree Lane is about to be foreclosed on by the bank unless Jane and Michael can find the valuable bank share certificates their late father left to them.

The typical Mary Poppins shenanigans begin immediately, as she marches the three kids -- John, Annabel, and Georgie -- into the bathroom for a bath that turns into an eye-dazzling deep sea adventure complete with dolphins, pirates, and giant bubbles. As the children soon discover that their home is in danger, they consider selling a Royal Doulton china bowl their late mother told them was priceless, and a squabble over it leads to yet another adventure, with Poppins and her young lamplighter friend Jack (Lin-Manuel Miranda) whisking the children into the animated world inside the bowl, leading to a major English music hall song and dance by Mary and Jack, followed by a hair-raising ride by the older children, chasing after some animated bandits who attempt to kidnap Georgie and steal the family's possessions. Back in the real world, Mary takes the children and the damaged bowl to visit her cousin Topsy (Meryl Streep), who supposedly can fix anything. Except that Topsy's world has literally turned upside down, and there is a big song and dance number in which Topsy realizes that everything turning around only represents a refreshing new perspective on things.

As the story continues, Mary orchestrates a visit to the Fidelity Fiduciary Bank where Michael works, to coincidentally have the children discover that the bank's new president (Colin Firth) is scheming underhandedly to repossess the Banks' home. All's well that ends well, as Mary joins Jack and his lamplighter friends for a little song and dance to lift the children's spirits, and there is an eleventh-hour miracle that saves the family's home in the end.

The animation is top-notch, the costumes colorful and interesting, and the songs -- churned out by Broadway and movie score veteran Marc Shaiman with lyrics by Scott Whitman -- are sprightly and serviceable. The filmmakers have worked very hard to repeat most of the beats of the original film: Admiral Boom next door still sets off his cannon every hour, disturbing every household; with the vote for women already won, now Jane Banks is deeply entrenched in the British labour movement, going to demonstrations and carrying signs; in the tradition of American Dick Van Dyke's role as a chimney sweep, American Lin-Manuel Miranda steps in to play a lamplighter, replete with awful Cockney accent; and once again, the Banks children experience amazing, otherworldly events that Mary later staunchly denies, including a visit to another magical relative. It's all very cute and very entertaining.

It's just that it's all been done before and done better.

1. The Banks children don't need a nanny, as is pointed out in the film. They seem to manage themselves just fine, even if the youngest, Georgie, is portrayed as a bit rambunctious. And despite having lost their mother, they don't seem especially raw about it. (A small quibble, since Mary makes plain that she really returned to the household to save the children's father, Michael.)

2. Mary Poppins sweeps in and takes over, even though it is clear that Michael Banks cannot pay her any wages. In the first Mary Poppins movie, she is extremely insistent on what she should be paid and when, so this seems out of character.

3. The mix of animation and live action is no longer an anomaly to moviegoers, thanks to digital technology and CGI, so the scenes in the world of the Royal Doulton china bowl don't have the impact that they should. And though the penguins return, they basically make a cameo.

4. Meryl Streep's Topsy character is not as fully fleshed out as it should be. She has a terrible Russian or gypsy accent of some kind, which the Banks kids actually comment on, and it is never explained why her world turns upside down. At least Uncle Albert's ability to rise from the floor was explained as a disease caused by laughter, the antidote for which was to think sad thoughts.

5. I like Lin-Manuel Miranda, he's an incredibly talented person, but I don't think of him as a dancer (I also have not seen Hamilton on stage, so maybe I just don't know). Though he appears in the production number where the lamplighters do their dance, he doesn't have a solo or a spotlighted part in it. The dance was fine, but lacked the snap crackle pop of "Step In Time" from the original. Overall, the Jack character is kind of lackluster, maybe because he isn't romancing Mary. He is barely romancing Jane, though the film seems to think they are a perfect match.

6. Which brings me to another observation: This film is lacking tap-dancing. Like, real old-fashioned hoofing. Jack and Mary do some footwork in their number at the Royal Doulton Hall, but there's no tapping or clogging. In his cameo toward the end of the film, 92-year-old Dick Van Dyke does a couple of steps, which only reminds me of what the flick is missing.

7. The music is pleasant and the songs are fun, but not one of them is catchy. I didn't come out of the theater singing any of them. Part of the problem may be that most of the tunes are stuffed to the gills with lyrics. The setpiece of the Royal Doulton Music Hall scene is a tune called "A Cover Is Not A Book," but the verses fly by so fast and so furiously that it's difficult to grab onto anything. Lin-Manuel has a part in the tune in which he's basically rapping -- which is reminiscent in some ways to Bert's fast-talking paean to all the girls he's known in "It's A Jolly Holiday With Mary" -- but it is hard to decipher what he is saying amid all the music and all the visual spectacle. It's unfortunate that the music, for all its effort to be clever, lacks the hooks a simpler approach could have provided.

8. The bad guy in this movie -- primarily Colin Firth's bank president at Fidelity Fiduciary Bank -- is mean for no reason. Just because ... money, I guess. But the Banks home is hardly a mansion. As the action takes place in the 1930s during "The Great Slump" -- the British version of the Great Depression -- I guess companies were doing anything to gain and keep a buck. Since every movie needs a villain, as it was in the original, it should be the bank.

9. The film wraps up with a scene in the park where the family buys balloons that float them up into the atmosphere, kind of a riff on the "Let's All Fly A Kite" ending of the original. Except in this one, everyone winds up flying around in the clouds. I thought this was confusing, because Mary Poppins wasn't there, she didn't make it happen, and it was happening to everyone in the park who bought a balloon (except evil old Colin Firth). This fantasy -- which included a song by the balloon vendor played by the ever-delightful Angela Lansbury -- was sooooo not needed and kind of broke the rules about magic happening only when Mary was directly involved.

10. As soon as we saw Jane and Michael's old kite being stuck in the trash, didn't we know that the answer to all the family's problems was right there on its patched surface?

Anyway, despite my quibbles, the movie is still good old-fashioned family fun. Your young ones will adore it and sing in grateful chorus, well done, Mary Poppins Returns! The rest of us will just have to take a spoonful of sugar to make this flick go down without wishing for Julie Andrews.

*All photos are screenshots, courtesy ABC/Disney Studios.

Amusing, Astonishing, Sobering: "The Favourite"

The Favourite
directed by Yorgos Lanthimos
starring Olivia Colman, Rachel Weisz, Emma Stone

Recommended? Yes. But strictly for adults and Anglophiles.

Power. Everybody wants it. Some sacrifice much to get it, and those who attain it don't seem to hold onto it long. Because this has been true for centuries, driving plots from Macbeth to TV's Scandal, the eternal struggle for power remains a compelling storyline.

The history of the English monarchy is rife with tales of palace intrigue and power plays among those circling the throne. Women have played key roles in history, which has shown that the so-called fairer sex can be just as ruthless, manipulative and calculating as the men, and were often forced to live by their wits during centuries of legally sanctioned male dominance. With a trio of women at its center, The Favourite examines the historical relationship of early 18th century English monarch Queen Anne and her closest friend and advisor, Lady Sarah Churchill, and a young usurper, Abigail Masham.

While The Favourite takes place in England after the reign of King Charles and William and Mary, when fashion dictated elaborate powdered wigs, stick-on beauty marks, high heels and ribbons for men, this is no frilly, stuffy historical drama. Thanks to director Lanthimos, whose sharp sense of the absurd was brought to light in the weird 2015 absurdist drama The Lobster, The Favourite has a decidedly contemporary, and thus often hilarious, view of history. That perspective becomes clearest in a scene where a court dance turns into something more like Dancing With The Stars meets Electric Boogaloo, but in countless other small details, including the characters' language (Sarah refers to a woman's parts as her "vajuju").

Played with a flair for comedy and pathos by Olivia Colman, Queen Anne is something of a pathetic figure. Plagued by illness, confounded by the politics of the country's current war with France, childless after 17 pregnancies, and with a withering temper, Anne is given to fits and fallouts, childish tantrums and illogical pronouncements. Her political affairs and personal welfare are managed by her longtime friend Lady Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz), a no-nonsense powerhouse who both coddles and bullies Anne. Their relationship is threatened by the arrival of Abigail (Emma Stone), a distant cousin of Sarah's, a former aristocrat whose family has been taken down by the father's gambling, who is now seeking a position in the queen's household. As it turns out, Abigail is baldly ambitious herself, and after suffering through a few weeks as a scullery maid, she finagles herself into the Queen's chamber and good graces thanks to a facility for herbal healing and personal charm. When she learns that there is still more to Sarah's relationship with Anne -- an illicit love affair -- Abigail immediately plots to get herself between the Queen's sheets.

Sarah issues some veiled threats to Abigail on the shooting range, but once she learns that Abigail has replaced her as the Queen's lover she has her fired from the household. In retaliation, Abigail arranges to have Sarah's tea drugged to get her out of the way, resulting in a brutal riding accident for Sarah. With Sarah gone, Abigail doubles down in her relationship with the Queen, convincing the monarch to approve of her marriage to a willing young nobleman -- despite being of low birth -- and guaranteeing her standing as a lady in the court. When Sarah survives her injuries and returns to court to find Abigail firmly ensconced as Anne's confidante and lady in waiting, she swears revenge while Abigail gloats. But as the camera focuses on Abigail as she responds to Anne's whining request that her aching legs be rubbed, we the audience are reminded of the price of success.

There is more to the story, including some bizarre palace antics that include duck racing and pelting a naked man with fruit; the ambitious scheming of a young parliamentary politician named Robert Harley (Nicholas Hoult); and the Queen's 17 pet rabbits who hop around in her bedchamber. But at its core, this is a story about the path to power and all it entails -- good and bad.

The script offers some whiplash pacing, withering insults, hilarious quips, and -- as mentioned -- a decidedly modern view of history. As such, the film has been compared to Mean Girls, Heathers, All About Eve, and more. Adding to the movie's polish is its incredible cinematography, with wide shots to show off the castle grounds, the richness of its rooms, the costuming, and the English countryside; the intricate costumes, including breeches for Lady Sarah for riding and shooting, an elaborate set of braces for the Queen so she can sit upright on a horse, and of course the foppery of the male courtiers; and its music, which is an evocative and often foreboding score mined from classical themes. And while all three actresses are brilliant -- Weisz and Stone are already Oscar winners -- Coleman is an absolute standout for her portrayal of Anne.

The Favourite is a beautiful, strange, amusing and ultimately cautionary tale.

"The Wife" Wins Out In The End

The Wife
Directed by Bjorn Runge
Starring Glenn Close, Jonathan Pryce, Christian Slater, Max Irons

They say that in any relationship, there is the lover and the loved. While the standard scriptural wisdom about marriage idealizes a couple that is "equally yoked," somehow one person ends up pulling more of the weight than the other. In the traditional American marriage, up until the middle of the 20th Century, women were expected to be the "helpmeet" of their husbands: the mistress of the home, the tender of the hearth, the guardian of the children, and an endless source of support, wisdom, comfort and sustenance to their mate. Even in modern love partnerships, a large part of how relationships grow is how the partners shore each other up, keep each other's secrets, and safeguard their egos.

In the opening scenes of The Wife, which is set in the early 1990s, we meet long-married seniors Joan (Glenn Close) and Joe Castleman (Jonathan Pryce) as they turn in for the night in their Connecticut home. Insecure, self-absorbed and somewhat quixotic, Joe is a respected author, shortlisted for the Nobel prize in literature and hoping for a call from Sweden. Practical, even-tempered Joan manages him -- his expectations, his nighttime routine, and after initially resisting finally gives in to his boyish sexual advances. "Imagine me as I was then, young," he says, shimmying himself on top of her.

The next morning, when a call does come in bright and early from the Nobel Committee, Joe instantly asks for his wife to pick up the phone extension so they both can hear the news of his award. After the call he excitedly grabs Joan so they can jump on the mattress in jubilation, until Joan soberly calls the activity to a close and begins to orchestrate everything that must be done in terms of celebrating and getting the family to Sweden for the ceremony. This is her role. She is The Wife.

Joan has been managing every aspect of Joe since she first managed to wedge herself between him and his first wife, when Joe was a college writing professor and she a young student with writing potential, which we discover in flashback. Since then, she has basically managed his writing career: serving as his sounding board, editor, typist and more, even shutting out their young son as they worked on Joe's novels. Joan manages Joe's apparel, his comportment, his health maintenance, his relationships, and his meals, and he praises her and thanks her at every turn. But as the family prepares to go to Sweden for the Nobel festivities, Joan begins to reflect on everything she has sacrificed to support her husband's brilliant career. In doing so, her resentment slowly begins to bubble to the surface and then rapidly comes to a boil once they arrive in Stockholm.

Joan's feelings on the trip are pushed along by all of the pomp, circumstance, and lionizing of her husband; her husband's treatment of their adult son (Max Irons, son of Jeremy Irons), also an aspiring novelist who feels neglected by his parents and belittled by his father; by the probing and badgering of smugly persistent journalist Nathaniel Bone (Christian Slater) with a book contract to write a biography about Joe and who threatens to reveal juicy secrets that Joan denies; and finally, by her husband's dalliance with a young Swedish photographer assigned to him. Though Joan has excused and dismissed Joe's many affairs, and denied having a greater role in Joe's writing success than the public knows, in the face of Nathaniel's barbed comments and observances, Joan keeps up her unruffled façade though inside she begins to seethe.

The Wife is an excellent, in-depth study of a marriage, an often painful examination of everything it takes to keep two separate people together, and how after 40 years together the accumulated chinks in the armor of that marriage can bring the whole thing down. It is also about the cycle of pain, sacrifice, elation amd dejection that comes with being a professional writer.

Glenn Close is superb, as usual, playing a woman who on the surface is calm, cool, and collected at all times, and has fooled herself into believing that she has no ambitions of her own, that all of her motives have been selfless, and that her most important role has been to be The Wife. Jonathan Pryce is her equal, playing Joe as a charming but clueless cad who would literally be nothing without his wife and knows it, though he doesn't always show it.

The dramatic denouement may be a bit too tidy a plot turn for some, but Joe's fate is just another, perhaps unintended manifestation of Joan's ability to manage an outcome. Despite everything, Joan loves Joe. The truth is that love isn't easy or easily explainable. There are no perfect people. And no perfect movies, either, though this comes close.

Thoughts on "Baby It's Cold Outside": Let It Go, Let It Go, Let It Go

"Baby It's Cold Outside"
written by Frank Loesser, 1944



These are expanded comments I made about the song during the opening of the Dec. 6 "Words On Flicks" podcast.

There is a current controversy going on about the age-old ditty "Baby It's Cold Outside," a song associated with winter and the holidays because of its references to frosty weather. Many radio stations have decided to pull the song from their holiday broadcast playlists because of complaints that it condones date rape and is triggering to victims of sexual abuse. Others say, Get over it -- it's just a song. I can see both sides of this debate.

CBS This Morning's Gail King spoke out on the program Wednesday defending the song, as have many other newspaper opinion pieces, while the daughter of its writer, Frank Loesser, blamed the kerfuffle on convicted sexual predator Bill Cosby, whose habit of drugging victims brought new attention to the line "say, what's in this drink?"

Why it's pertinent to Words On Flicks is because "Baby It's Cold Outside" was popularized when it appeared in a movie, the 1949 romantic-comedy-with-music cream puff Neptune's Daughter. Starring the then-popular mermaid Esther Williams, an expert swimmer who inspired MGM to build giant tanks and stage elaborate water ballets around her, Neptune's Daughter is a fluffy mistaken-identity comedy with Ricardo Montalban as a smooth, polo-playing Latin lover.

The song "Baby It's Cold Outside" pops up as Montalban's character tries to convince Williams to stay a little longer for romance on a cold night. It's a cute and very clever duet about the cat and mouse romantic flirtation between a man and a woman. During the time it was written, the 1940s, it was a scandal for a woman to spend the whole night with a man, her "reputation" would be ruined. Men who wanted more than a few kisses or casual petting had to ramp up their persuasive techniques to get what they wanted. Women were supposed to draw the line at having sex unless there was a wedding first, or at least a ring on her finger.

According to the alternating lines of the song, the man is doing everything he can not merely to verbally convince but to physically coerce the woman to stay the night. Tp be fair, the movie Neptune's Daughter also shows the song being sung by a woman, Betty Garrett, in the pursuer's role, trying to interest Red Skelton in a romance. So the song shows both sexes as putting pressure on the other, to hilarious effect. But the song is more often heard in the classic style with the man as the aggressor.

If you listen to the whole song, at the end it seems that the woman gives in -- seemingly of her own free will -- or at least she gives up. But in a scenario like this, what could have happened if she said no? If, in fact, she insisted on leaving?

A gentleman would open the door, express regret, and graciously say goodnight. A sexual abuser would lock the door, block all exits, and attack. How do I know? Because it has happened, to me and to many others.

And that is what is triggering about this song for many. These are the same coercive lines and maneuvers that many sexual predators use to trap their targets physically and emotionally so that they cannot escape, and that place of isolation is where they feel emboldened to harass, grope and/or rape. It's all fun and games, lightness and flirtation -- until it isn't. Abusers count on the fact that women expect men to follow the rules of chivalry and courteousness in every situation; it's the benefit-of-the-doubt rule, the innocent-until-proven-guilty rule. Predators use this against victims. Their target often can't tell a good guy from a bad guy until it's too late.

Although the song ends on an upbeat note, with both parties making an informed choice, one could interpret this song as encouragement to men to press their advantage whenever and however and for as long as they can until they get the answer they want and feel entitled to.

"Baby It's Cold Outside" is a song strictly of its time, certainly a more innocent era with stricter societal mores, courtly traditions and lighthearted intent. The trouble is that the song continues to be recorded, year after year, by more contemporary artists. New generations are listening, generations for whom the year 1949 may as well be the Pleistocene Era and Esther Williams doesn't spark any glimmer of recognition, generations for whom the idea of a mother waiting by the door or a maiden aunt spreading gossip (as it says in the song) is laughable. The original intent and source of the song is lost, and all that is left are its words -- which today's listeners take on face value. And just as we know better now on other issues -- blackface and minstrelsy, stereotyping, gay bashing -- we should do better by letting questionable Hollywood fare fade into the background. To riff on another popular holiday weather tune: Let it go, let it go, let it go.

If radio stations are responding to the needs of listeners by taking this antiquated song off the air, I think that's a responsible response. And if there are people who can listen to "Baby It's Cold Outside" and hear only a playful teasing exchange between equals who are already fond of each other, then that's great too.

But I don't think those who find no problem with the song should shame or dismiss the concerns of those who do. That's just another way the very real experiences and concerns of #MeToo victims get pushed into the cold outside.

Thoughts on "Green Book": Dueling Tropes & Hijacked History, Well Executed

Green Book
directed by Peter Farrelly

These are expanded, but essentially the same comments I made about the film during the opening of Nov. 29's "Words On Flicks" podcast.

Over the Thanksgiving weekend I saw the Peter Farrelly-directed movie Green Book, starring Viggo Mortenson as Tony "Lip" Vallelonga, who finds himself employed as a driver by Mahershala Ali's Dr. Don Shirley, a noted concert pianist, on a tour through the deep south in 1960, four years before the Civil Rights Act was passed. The film is based on Vallelonga's reminiscences of their true-life friendship; however, the family of the late Don Shirley vehemently disputes its details.

Though Green Book has gotten mostly good reviews, its controversies made me a bit trepidatious about the movie before going in. I'm sure you've heard them, but I'll reiterate here:

First, the title hijacks history.

I would have preferred that a movie with this title be much more directly related to the history of this pivotal guidebook. "The Negro Motorist Green Book" was an actual publication used by African Americans during road trips across America, and particularly in the south, during segregation and Jim Crow. An African American mailman named Victor Hugo Green from New York City came up with the idea for the book in an attempt to make road travel safer for black people, and originally published it only in the NYC metro area until demand made it national.

It was published for 30 years, from 1936 to 1966. It was, unfortunately, much-needed. Though black folks were purchasing cars so they wouldn’t have to face discrimination on public transportation, they were still subjected to humiliations in terms of where they could stop, get gas, eat, get a hotel room, or even go to the bathroom – which is shown in the film. (I saw the movie Ragtime again recently, and the major conflict of the story turns on the vandalization of an automobile owned by a black piano player (Howard Rollins) by a group of white volunteer firemen in the early 1900s.)

Though Hollywood has attempted from time to time to tackle stories about key events in black history, too often the main character is a white person and the story is told through their perspective. And so it is with Green Book, a key piece of African American history reduced to an incidental part of the narrative.

Because of this history, titling the movie Green Book is misleading, as it is the story of an initially racist white man's view of one exceptional (magical) black man. Said white man has limited experience with the Green Book, makes offhand comments about its existence, and never questions its necessity with his passenger. However briefly, the Green Book itself, which is only shown a couple of times in the film that I can remember, is a symbol for the disparity between the lives of the two men. One white, with limited education, scuffling to make ends meet, but who can freely go anywhere, and the other, a multilingual, multitalented, educated black man who faces discrimination everywhere.

1 Magical Negro + 1 White Savior = ?
Secondly, the film has been criticized for being part of a long tradition in Hollywood of movies about Magical Negroes and White Saviors. (sorry if these terms offend people).

In movies about Magical Negroes, a black character selflessly helps a white person with aspects of their life out of the goodness of their hearts. Movies like The Green Mile where falsely imprisoned Michael Clarke Duncan can literally make magical miracles for everybody on Death Row but can't get himself out of prison. I saw the film once and while many people adore it, I can't stomach it. Or The Legend of Bagger Vance with Will Smith as a wise and mystical caddy to struggling golfer Matt Damon.

White Savior movies include many narratives about people of color whose circumstances can only improve by having a white person swoop in and rescue them: Avatar, The Blind Side, The Help, Dances with Wolves, Conrack, etc. "If you've been to the movies in the last half-century, you know the White Savior genre well," notes writer David Sirota in a 2013 Salon piece. "It's the catalog of films that features white people single-handedly rescuing people of color from their plight. These story lines insinuate that people of color have no ability to rescue themselves. This both makes white audiences feel good about themselves by portraying them as benevolent messiahs (rather than hegemonic conquerors), and also depicts people of color as helpless weaklings -- all while wrapping such tripe in the cinematic argot of liberation." In other words, whether ethnic tribespeople, urban dwellers, or inner-city students, these folks cannot help themselves. While many of these films are intended to show cross-cultural acceptance, what they actually portray is that only the superior ingenuity and resourcefulness of a white person -- abetted by white privilege -- can fix the problems of people of color.

In Green Book, these two tropes of Magical Negro Meets White Savior coexist -- but do they cancel each other out? Tony Lip is the White Savior: hired to be Dr. Shirley’s driver and muscle, to literally save him from any danger, but in this story Tony feels he has to teach Dr. Shirley how to be black, i.e. teaching him how to eat fried chicken, how to identify Chubby Checker and Aretha Franklin songs -- even how to throw trash onto the highway.

Meanwhile, Dr. Shirley is a Magical Negro – an amazing and highly trained pianist, able to speak multiple languages (including the Italian Tony thinks he doesn’t understand), a sensitive writer who helps Tony compose lush love letters to his wife, and ultimately – if this film is to be believed – helping Tony overcome his innate racism. Dr. Shirley's string players help Tony see that the pianist's tour through the South is not just a musical exchange, it is a crusade of courage against long-embedded racial hatred. He is not only an exceptional person of color, he's an exceptional person of ANY color. Unfortunately, movies about exceptional people of color perpetrate the idea that they are somehow not really a member of that race and exist in a universe unto themselves.

The Racialized Awkward Road Trip Movie
But movie tropes aside, I couldn't help but like the film. It falls easily into other much-beloved movie types -- the buddy film and the road picture combined, where two opposite numbers slowly come to grudging respect for the other over the course of the forced trip. As such, Green Book provides two juicy roles for these actors to dig into, and Viggo and Mahershala are fantastic. My resistance to the racial tropes of the movie began to fade in the face of their lived-in performances. I believed the situations and their growing relationship as the road trip progressed. Dr. Shirley's personal struggles in the face of racism and loneliness were palpable, thanks to Mahershala's regal portrayal; I couldn't stop thinking about the lithe, swashbuckling version of Viggo in The Lord of the Rings trilogy of a decade ago as compared to his embodiment of this beer-bellied Bronx bouncer. There was much about their journey via car across the country that felt true in both its beauty and its ugliness.

Green Book is a film with a flawed premise that is nonetheless well-executed. Your reaction to it will no doubt be related to how well you can swallow down another major movie about black history from the perspective of a non-black protagonist.

The Music Grounds It
The film has a strong sense of place and time about it – you really feel that you are back in 1960. One of the strongest elements that made the film feel so rooted in its time period is the music. Mahershala does a great job at tickling the ivories (or at least appearing to), performing unique arrangements of popular tunes like "Tea for Two" or "Happy Talk" (from South Pacific). But it’s the incidental music with great tracks from a range of artists that helped bring the flick alive, from Little Richard, Aretha Franklin and Chubby Checker to "One Mint Julep" by the Clovers, Professor Longhair’s "Go to the Mardi Gras," and many classic Christmas recordings. Toward the end of the film, when the duo are headed back to New York City, a track that I’d never heard before was played: called “Goodbye, My Lover, Goodbye” by Robert Mosely, that I instantly fell in love with and can't get out of my head. The soundtrack also has a version of the real Don Shirley playing “The Lonesome Road,” which I believe is played over the end credits.

Listen to this clip of the real Don Shirley performing "Lullaby of Birdland" and you will get a glimmer of how astounding a musician he actually was. Though the images are not of Shirley, it's the performance (starts classical, shifts to jazz) that wows.


What did you think of Green Book? Leave a comment below. And don't forget to subscribe for notifications when a new blog is posted.

Once Was Lost But Now We Can See: Aretha Franklin In "Amazing Grace"

Amazing Grace
produced by Alan Elliott
starring Aretha Franklin

If you love and appreciate true American "soul" and gospel music, not to mention one of the greatest to ever perform it -- Aretha Franklin -- then there is no better document than the long-hidden film treasure Amazing Grace, just making the rounds of film festivals now.

Originally shot in 1972, Amazing Grace is a film document of the live recording of the late Aretha Franklin's seminal 1972 album of the same name, a collection of gospel and gospel-inspired tunes that put on dazzling display its performer's prodigious vocal talents and went on to sell some 2 million copies and become the best-selling gospel album of all time. The two-night performance was originally shot by the late director Sydney Pollock for a Warner Bros. release, but problems with the footage and disagreement between the studio and its star left it unfinished for 46 years.

Thanks to a long overdue agreement between the Franklin estate and producer Alan Elliott, who was able to piece together Pollock's footage and complete the gargantuan job of synching the audio to the images, Amazing Grace is finally seeing the light of day. It is being show Nov. 12 at the DOC NYC Festival, has been shown in Los Angeles, and will likely get a theatrical release in early 2019. And thank goodness. Beyond its title being associated with the much beloved gospel hymn, its central performance is just that: Amazing.

The action takes place in Los Angeles at New Temple Missionary Baptist Church, with backing from a crack band of session musicians: Cornell Dupree on guitar, Bernard Purdie on drums, Chuck Rainey on bass, with Kenny Luper on church organ. The Southern California Community Choir, led ably by choir director Alexander Hamilton, in typically animated choir director form, provide requisite vocal support. Both nights are emceed by noted gospel eminence the Reverend James Cleveland, who alternates with Aretha on piano and lends his powerful vocal on several numbers.

Just 30 when this project was recorded, Aretha appeared to be in full possession of the soulful melodics, harmonics, dynamics, improvisation, and sheer inspirational fervor that have been her trademarks throughout a long career that spanned a broad range of musical styles. Watching Aretha in a church setting, throwing back her head and opening her golden throat, I couldn't help but imagine that the very angels themselves were being arrested by the glorious sounds that emerged. Whether standing at the podium or seated at the piano to accompany herself, Aretha is composed, confident, and in control. Beautiful in her flowing shifts, glorious afro, and vibrant eye makeup, she is in command of the music, the choir, and even the audience at every moment.

It seems strange that Aretha herself does not directly address the audience, instead demurring to Rev. Cleveland, who amiably introduces the tunes and instructs the audience to be lively in their responses (encouragement that wasn't really necessary). We only hear Aretha speak when asking for water, or to clarify the key for a tune. But somehow this distance only adds to her mystique as not only an artist but almost an oracle. Not a second-night appearance by her father, the renowned Rev. C.L. Franklin (who makes a speech of pride in his daughter's accomplishments), nor a flowery entrance by mink-coated gospel great Clara Ward, nor the enthusiasm of special guests like Rolling Stones frontman Mick Jagger in the back row, nor the hot lights, nor a steady stream of perspiration puddling her eyeliner can deter Aretha from the preternatural composure and skill with which she delivers beloved classics like "What A Friend we Have in Jesus," "How I Got Over," "Precious Memories," "Mary Don't You Weep," and the enduring title anthem "Amazing Grace."

Indeed, by the time Aretha arrives at the seminal title hymn, stretching its melody a cappella, and emphasizing the thankful fervor of its lyrics, members of the audience -- not to mention members of the backing choir and even the film production crew -- are enraptured, many of them visibly moved, some to tears, others seemingly to visitation by the Holy Ghost. Watching Aretha in her element, the Black Church, in what is universally acknowledged as her greatest recorded performance, the film dares you not to renew your own faith -- if not in a higher power, than certainly in the power of music to salve the soul.

Amazing Grace is a visual and aural baptism into the wellspring of African American gospel music by one of its most revered practitioners. In simple terms, this often rough-hewn film is nothing short of a blessing.



All photos are screenshots.

Skateboards, Hip-Hop and S**t: Growing Up "Mid90s"

Mid90s
written and directed by Jonah Hill
starring Sunny Suljic, Kate Waterston, Lucan Hedges, Na-Kel Smith, Olan Pranatt and others

Recommended? With reservations.

I wandered into Mid90s out of sheer curiosity. This coming-of-age tale was written and directed by Oscar nominee Jonah Hill, the onetime chubby comic relief in a number of comedies like SuperBad, Get Him To the Greek, This Is The End and Forgetting Sarah Marshall -- movies that I lowkey enjoyed -- who has since repositioned himself as a serious actor in Moneyball, The Wolf of Wall Street, and the Netflix stumper Maniac with a sleeker physique. Mid90s is his attempt at a cinema bildungsroman, but while he's wrangled some strong performances out of his young actors, the results are mixed.

Shot almost documentary style, Mid90s centers on diminutive 13-year-old Stevie (an astonishing Sunny Suljic), a middle schooler growing up in LA with a single mother (Katherine Waterston) and an emotionally stunted older brother (Lucas Hedges) who frequently beats and abuses him. Desperate to come out from under his brother's thumb, while simultaneously studying everything bout him, and grow up fast, Stevie insinuates himself into a group of teen skateboard enthusiasts at the local skate shop.

Spending hours on their skateboards perfecting tricks, often in prohibited enclaves of the city, and listening to hip-hop, these boys are seeking to escape whatever they feel is oppressing them (poverty, familial abuse, parental expectations, or neglect). This new crew gives Stevie -- dubbed Sunburn by the others -- a sense of family and belonging he doesn't get from his distracted mother and repressed older brother. Except that, other than dreadlocked ringleader and skateshop proprietor Ray (Na-Kel Smith), the rest of this crew are clueless, questing kids who engage in raunchy debates, give each other bad advice, and drink and drug at escalating rates. Ray's best friend and the charismatic center of the film is a character called Fuckshit (Olan Prenatt), so named for his favorite expletive, a blonde-ringleted slacker whom Stevie admires as being the ultimate in "cool." There's also Stevie's friend-turned-foe Ruben (Gio Galicia) and the laconic Fourth Grade (Ryder McLoughlin), named for his intellectual level, who dreams of being a filmmaker and carries his camera everywhere.

Stevie is ready to put himself out there, prove himself any way he can, and he's willing to risk life and limb to do it. Already the brunt of his brother's violence, Stevie cracks his head open falling off a rooftop in a skateboarding dare, a move that gains him the admiration of the crew, and privately engages in self-harm to toughen himself further. "You take the hardest hits of anyone I know," muses Ray toward the film's conclusion. "You know you don't have to do that, right?"

The film showers affection on the era before computers riveted teen culture: skateboards, party hip-hop, oversized jeans, and the kind of aimless angst that made "Smells Like Teen Spirit" a breakout hit for Curt Cobain and crew. Mixed by race and ethnic origin, the group likes to freely throw around the n-word. For a film about the mid 1990s, key scenes are driven by music outside of that era, as in a sequence as the crew skates down the median of a busy thoroughfare to strains of the Mamas & the Papas' "Dedicated To The One I Love" from 1967 and Herbie Hancock's version of "Watermelon Man" from 1974. Trent Reznor contributed original music, and there are a number of other 90s hip-hop tracks quoted.

The film casts a reminiscent glow on Stevie's pubescent milestones, like his first cigarette, first drink, first sexual encounter, and first drug experience. Viewing this as an adult who came of age two decades earlier, I had significant trouble watching the child-sized Suljic in a sexual encounter at a party with a girl who looked to be way over 16, ingesting drugs freely handed to him by Fuckshit while Ray merely shakes his head, and climbing into a car driven by an obviously too-high Fuckshit with predictable results. (My inner thoughts: This has got to be illegal, this is child abuse, where is this actor's mother, etc.)

The movie tries to tie everything up with a bow. Stevie's mother Dabney, alarmed by Stevie's behavior and this new group of friends, at first tries to prohibit her son from associating with them, but Stevie rebels and resists. Mom finally relents once she sees how devoted they are as Stevie lands in the hospital. Stevie's brother attempts a form of reconciliation with his sibling. And the mostly wordless Fourth Grade finally shares the video documentary he's been working on, appropriately titled "Mid90s."

Watching this I was reminded that every generation thinks its teen years were deeply poignant, significant, and unique. I certainly have felt that way about my own experience, but watching Mid90s, with which I couldn't really relate, I realized that it's a universally human conceit. But Mid90s did show me -- who grew up in a household of females -- how often boys are conditioned to masculinity through the idea that they must cultivate their ability to not only survive physical challenges and violence, but to seek them out.

Not bad for a first effort, but Hill should turn his directorial vision outward for his next project.

"Bohemian Rhapsody": Music-Soaked Story of Queen Crowns Star Rami Malek

Bohemian Rhapsody
directed by Bryan Singer (though he reportedly walked off before finishing)
Starring Rami Malek and … some other people

The song "Bohemian Rhapsody," originally released as a single in 1975 and rereleased 16 years later, made me love the British band Queen.

I loved the clear timbre of Freddy Mercury's voice and the compelling emotion it held in the early verses, telling the story of a condemned young man who must pay for a murder. I loved the song's many genre shifts, it's allusions to opera buffa (Ialian comic opera), early English musical theater as well as straight up rock in its scorching "So you think you can stone me and leave me to die ..." segment. The uniquely striated guitar chords and Brian May's screaming solos added grit. I loved that it had an absolutely nonsensical aspect to it -- which gives it more charm. Once you hear this six-minute gem, you can't forget it.

When this tune was first a hit, I was an impressionable teenager, listening to everything on pop and R&B radio. I was riveted by the tune, and it quickly became nearly every music fan's fun singalong. Some scorned it as trash or comic relief, but it entranced more than one generation of fans.

Certainly I had heard other pieces of Queen music, including crowd favorites "We Are the Champions" and "Another One Bites The Dust." But about the band itself, its roots, its influences, its raison d'etre, I knew very little. So I was really looking forward to the Bohemian Rhapsody film that debuted in theaters nationwide last Friday.

After seeing it, I can't say that I really know that much more about Queen as a band other than the facts that have long been public. There's a disturbingly shorthand, 20-20 hindsight, TV-movie-of-the-week treatment of many events in the band's formation and career that left me wanting more. How did the other three members first get together? What was their inspiration? How did the each develop their musical skills? Instead the plot tends to tick off narrative milestones without really making those moments come alive.

The most fleshed out portrait among those in Queen is that of the late Freddie Mercury, the band's dynamic and flamboyant lead singer. It seems the living members of the band, who approved this film, kept a tight rein on how their characters could be portrayed, while the screenwriters could run riot with the story of the one who can no longer speak up. Critics have lambasted the filmmakers for this, as well as for altering the chronology of events for dramatic effect. Indeed, by making it seem that Mercury was well aware of his AIDS diagnosis just before his appearance at the Live Aid concert, his performance of certain lyrics becomes that much more poignant. Reportedly, Mercury wasn't diagnosed until more than a year later.

Where the film absolutely wins is in the portrayal of Freddie Mercury by Rami Malek, which is nothing short of brilliant.

With a set of outsized teeth resembling Mercury's signature overbite, Malek struts, pouts, creates, loves, performs the band's signature songs and rivets our attention for most of the film. It's a bravura piece of work, considering he had to alter his voice, sing (or appear to sing), approximate Mercury's style, walk, and stance, and portray the singer's early struggle to define his sexuality. Malek, who has proven to be a capable actor, outdoes himself here, doing a stellar job of conveying a complicated man with a sensitive soul and a firm and well-warranted belief in his own talents as singer, songwriter and stage performer.

The other big win of this film is Queen's music itself, even recreating the band's iconic performance at Wembley Stadium during the global Live Aid Concert of 1985 nearly beat for beat.

The other actors in the film tend to fade into the background, though Gwilym Lee ably sports Brian May's cascade of curls and wrangles his guitar convincingly, and Lucy Boynton is sweet as Mary Austin, Mercury's one-time paramour and the inspiration for his song "Love of My Life." Mike Myers is nearly unrecognizable as a record executive who declares that "Bohemian Rhapsody" will flop; his casting is something of a stunt since Mike and fellow SNL alum Dana Carvey ably breathed new life into the track in their 1992 film Wayne's World.

Bohemian Rhapsody the movie will leave you with renewed appreciation for the song, the band that created it, the singer who fronted it, and again, Rami Malek's starmaking turn as Mercury. And that's not just radio gaga.

Don't miss the podcast The Words On Flicks Show with Janine Coveney, movie talk from a fan perspective.

"Bad Times At The El Royale": Good Acting, Good Music, Rough Ride

Bad Times at the El Royale
directed by Drew Goddard
starring Jeff Bridges, Jon Hamm, Dakota Johnson, Cynthia Erivo, Chris Hemsworth

Recommended? Depends on your taste. A showcase for some fine acting.

I was pulled into the theater to see Bad Times at the El Royale after viewing the previews, I was intrigued for a few reasons: Jeff Bridges, who has become one of the most watchable actors around (loved his turn in the Coen Brothers' remake of True Grit, among other roles). Cynthia Erivo, who I knew to be an incredible Broadway performer and singer from The Color Purple but whom I had never seen on the big screen. Jon Hamm, who seems to have built on his Mad Men experience by portraying a wide range of challenging characters on screen (the nasty villain of last year's Baby Driver comes most immediately to mind). A shirtless Chris Hemsworth as a villain. A twisty and deviously concocted plot that sparked dim echoes of Pulp Fiction. What appeared to be vividly gorgeous sets depicting a Rat Pack-era motel and crisp cinematography capturing it all.

I definitely got all that and more. Probably more than I anticipated, or wanted, really. But I'll get to that.

Bad Times at the El Royale is a film noir crime drama, set in the 1960s. A rustic themed motel straddling the California/Nevada state line, the El Royale has seen better days, and few travelers stop. Guests can stay on the Nevada or the California side, and the expansive lobby with its timbered walls resembles a ski or hunting lodge. This deceptively hospitable outpost is where several characters check in, almost none of them who or what they appear to be.

Erivo plays Darlene, a fired girl group singer determined to make it own her own, heading to a gig in nearby Reno. Her gorgeous vocalizing in many of the scenes are a bright spot in a mostly dark film. Bridges is Father Flynn, an ex-con bank robber masquerading as a priest to find the loot his murdered partner buried in one of the rooms decades earlier. Hamm, posing as loquacious salesman Laramie Sullivan, is a federal agent trying to clean up evidence of a longtime surveillance operation at the motel. Dakota Johnson, a bitch for no discernible reason, demands a room far from the others; seemingly a ruthless kidnapper who pulls a girl from her trunk and ties her to a chair in the room, Emily is actually trying to save her brainwashed younger sister from a charismatic hippy cult leader, who ultimately turns up at the motel to claim her with unpleasant results. As played by Hemsworth, Billy Lee is a sexy nutcase, spewing new age jargon, sparking mayhem and dancing, in mesmerizing Jim Morrison fashion, between bouts of violence. There's also Miles, the motel's sole employee, played by Lewis Pullman, a seemingly mild mannered young man hiding a number of unpleasant personal and professional secrets.

As each of the characters slowly discovers what Miles has long known, which is that the rooms aren't exactly private, complications ensue. Assuming that he is witnessing a kidnapping, Hamm attempts to enter Johnson's room and she guns him down. Stray buckshot breaks the mirror, revealing the surveillance corridor behind all the rooms and the fact that she's also wounded Miles, perhaps fatally.

Bridges and Erivo, after a bumpy start where he tries to drug her and she knocks him cold, make a pact; she'll help him find the money in exchange for a cut.

And then there is a sort of McGuffin, similar to the briefcase in Pulp Fiction, concerning a reel of film from the hidden surveillance camera in the motel, documenting an unnamed big shot doing God Knows What in one of the rooms, a film that could net big bucks if peddled to the right media or government outlet. Though it wasn't clear, I got the feeling that Erivo's character might also have appeared in that film. The story is lurid, grimey, violent, and a perfect example of the contemporary noir genre in vivid color.

This is the second film I've seen this year, after A Star Is Born, where the pacing seems to follow a more natural rhythm than the whiz-bang editing and rat-a-tat dialog of other films. Which isn't to say that Bad Times doesn't have some great lines. It does. Hamm's opening monologue as he blusters into the motel demanding the best room in the place, is a showpiece of acting as he paints a false picture of himself as a hail-fellow-well-met, twisting his tongue around old-fashioned terms such as "hidey-hole" for the hotel, and "fortnighter" for his impressive piece of luggage. It's this speech, in fact, that lets us know that this film is going to be something of a rollercoaster and that we should buckle up. Bridges is spellbinding as a desperate, aging outlaw with degenerative memory loss. His character's unlikely partnership with Erivo's streetwise singer Darlene is the heart of the film.

As I watched this colorful, suspenseful, unusual tale where no one is who they say they are, I was briefly reminded of the classic Humphrey Bogart & Lauren Bacall flick Key Largo, a 1948 film noir crime drama that also centers on a rundown, out of the way hotel where some desperate characters meet. The Hotel Largo has seen better days when Bogey arrives, looking for the family of an old army buddy. He finds his buddy's widow and father trying to keep the hotel going as they host a disparate group of folks, one of them a homicidal gangster on the run (Edward G. Robinson) who holds the others hostage as a hurricane barrels down on them. But as a product of its times, Key Largo doesn't ever get as down and dirty as what Bad Times director Goddard has in store.

Bad Times has numerous plot twists and turns to keep viewers on the edge of their seats. In the meantime, it's a total delight to the eyes -- and to the ears, as much of its soundtrack comes from a steady infusion of 60s hits and the characters' frequent references to them. The film takes its time in unspooling the characters and their motivations, and then sets them on a collision course that begins to feel tedious and overwrought by the final quarter of the flick, to the point where I started to wonder, "when will this be over?"

The blood-soaked fire-torched finale of the film was a little much for me, but that doesn't erase the fact that overall this a compelling and suspenseful story with the talents of some incredible actors on display.

Moving, Essential: "The Hate U Give"

The Hate U Give (2018)
directed by George Tillman, Jr.
starring Amandla Stenberg, Russell Hornsby, Regina Hall, Anthony Mackie, Common, Issa Rae

Recommended? Yes, highly. A must-see.

I knew this was the movie to see as the George Tillman Jr. directed screen adaptation of the YA novel went wide. Many of you have seen it already. I went with trepidation. Not because I didn't think the film would be good, but because the subject matter is painful. I'd been trying to get through the audiobook of the brilliant Angie Thomas novel and have not been able to do it. The story of how a young teen copes with seeing another best friend die of gun violence right in front of her, this time from a policeman's bullet, is a story we unfortunately know all too well.

The saving grace of this narrative is in seeing how this exceptional teen rises up, takes action, and becomes who she is meant to be.

Far from being a simple tale of "something terrible happened and it made me a better person," The Hate U Give manages to meld a YA coming-of-age story with a treatise on black identity, black love, the immediacy of hip-hop as social commentary, social justice, political action, police brutality, class, crime, and racism. Watching a teenager have to navigate between the social hierarchy of a mostly white private school, the supportive enclave or her family, and the harsh realities of the streets in between is stunning. Though many of us have grown up this way, to see it portrayed in a way that few films have captured with such poignancy makes me marvel anew at the resiliency of people of color who must cope, dodge, adapt, and overcome just to survive in our society.

Watching this brilliant film was a rollercoaster of emotion for me:

* Thrilled by the portrayal of protagonist Starr Carter by the amazing Amandla Stenberg, who manages to imbue Starr with both the questing uncertainty of a teenager and the burgeoning maturity of the woman she is becoming.

* Gratified by the depiction of a loving, proud black family headed by a strong father who is a complicated, multilayered character. Regina Hall is effective as Starr's loving and protective mother, but Russell Hornsby as Starr's father Maverick, a former gang member who served an undeserved prison term for the local drug kingpin (Anthony Mackie) and now runs the local convenience store, is an absolute standout. You feel his love and pride in his family, his fierce determination that his children stand up for themselves, and his desperation and frustration at continued disrespect from law enforcement.

* Heartbroken by yet another senseless murder of a young black man, Starr's childhood friend and first crush Khalil, played by the engaging newcomer Algee Smith. This scene portraying their confrontation with police points up just how necessary it is for parents of color to have The Talk with their children.

* Outraged by the unwarranted brutality against black and brown people by police and the refusal by many police departments to hold officers accountable for them. However, I commend the film for not demonizing the character of the officer who shot Khalil, and for presenting the viewpoint of police in the character of Starr's uncle Carlos, played by Common, an officer who explains to her how in the same circumstance, he too would probably have shot her friend.

* Saddened that the youngest of us, the children, have to grow up in these times when they don't get to have a true childhood.

* Embarrassed and disappointed by the grip that gangs and drugs still have on our communities, though the economic cycle that forces many into crime is deftly explained in the film.

* Inspired to see another generation radicalized to action in the face of so much ongoing oppression, racial animosity, apathy, and violence. The character of local organizer April Ofrah, played by Issa Rae, is a reminder that we must be the change. It is when we give up that any hope for change diminishes. And Starr Carter represents that hope.

The Hate U Give makes sure to show a balanced picture, that not all cops are violent, and not all whites are clueless racists. The fact that these messages are also conveyed makes the film that much stronger. Some of the scenes toward the end are disturbing, as police attempt to quash a peaceful protest and young people are threatened with beatings, shootings, and fire.

The Hate U Give is not a feel-good movie. It's a powerful film that shows viewers the truth of black neighborhoods across this country in the era of #BlackLivesMatter. It's a movie about how one young girl gets woke, and by watching, hopefully we do too. And this makes it one of the most important films of the year.

Words on Flicks for Your Ears

The Words on Flicks Show
With Your Host, Janine Coveney

A new podcast on movies from a fan perspective ...

Greetings everyone. After posting 80 blogs on various movie topics to this platform, Words on Flicks is expanding to the podcast universe. Beginning October 18, 2018, I am launching a weekly 60-minute BlogTalk Radio show to talk about my favorite hobby, watching movies. You can check it out every Thursday evening at 9 pm ET/6 pm PT.

Why a podcast? Because online radio/video talk has expanded and exploded in the last few years and it's a great platform for discussion of various topics. I myself was invited to guest on a couple of podcasts in the past year, and Ed Waterford, one of the hosts and EWaterRadio founder, generously offered me a timeslot of my own. In that moment, I thought, Why not? Everyone likes movies. They may not get a chance to go to the theater that often, or they may not like a particular genre, but most people have seen a film that has impacted or influenced them in some way, and it's fun to talk about that.

Background: I am an entertainment journalist. I have been a writer, editor and content creator and my beat has been 90 percent about music and the terrestrial radio business. I enjoyed several years as a Billboard Magazine scribe covering R&B and then as managing editor for their now-defunct radio-oriented spinoff magazine Billboard Airplay Monitor. I covered music -- hip-hop, R&B and jazz -- for more than a decade at various other magazine and broadcast companies. I branched into travel writing as well after going abroad to cover jazz events. I never felt the need to become an "air personality." But I think doing the podcast will be fun.

Because while writing and editing was what paid the bills, in my off hours I do a lot of fiction reading and writing, spinning my own stories into (as yet unpublished) novels. I've also done a lot of movie watching. A fascination for good storytelling, particularly visual storytelling, has fueled my love of cinema from a very early age. Growing up in New York City, I caught my mother's enthusiasm for watching TV Channel 9's "Million Dollar Movie" series, which was usually classic musicals, dramas, or gangster flicks of the 1930s through the 1950s. I was still in elementary school. And by the way, I had no idea it used the Gone With The Wind Theme until I first saw GWTW as a young adult:



As I got older, getting home from high school, there was ABC's "The 4:30 Movie"; Mom would make snacks and make me promise to do my homework afterward, but for an hour and a half or two hours, including those pesky TV commercials, we were glued to the screen, oohing and ahhing over a leading lady's costume, some fancy dance footwork, or a gruesome shootout. My mother taught me to recognize her favorite screen idols, and I was able to follow actors from film to film. Just hearing the theme music to this afternoon movie gem puts a smile on my face:



Living in NYC, it was also easy to see independent and foreign films because it was a major market. I remember ditching school to go the 68th Street Playhouse to see the original "Birdcage" -- La Cage aux Folles -- in French, as well as numerous other subtitled flicks when I was still a teen. I also got into the habit of seeing major studio films during the first weekend of release. When I first moved to Los Angeles in the 1990s, I wanted to write for television. So I studied scriptwriting and story structure. I even studied acting for a little while. These experiences actually changed and improved how I look at a film.

Movies are sheer escapism. But they are also a chronicle of our history and culture and an ongoing commentary on human nature. When we watch, we bring our own knowledge and life experiences to the viewing, and in the process we open ourselves up to learn and see more through the main characters. When I watch, I try to take in everything that's presented on screen -- not only the actors' performances, and the mechanics of their dialog, but the subtext of that dialog, what the costumes and the set decoration say about their status, their relationships, their education, and their values. Older movies are a virtual symposium on the values, customs, clothing, and culture of past generations, which is fascinating to me. Historical dramas -- though often fictionalized and Hollywood-ized -- can still offer us a valuable perspective on real events and personalities. Situations that were life-threatening, reputation-altering, and life-changing in the past don't hold the same meaning today, though we now face new threats and challenges due to progressive values and advanced technology.

This is also an interesting moment in cinema history, as the studios and the film and television academies try to acknowledge the stories and talents of people of color, with more diversity initiatives and a broader array of films being made than in past decades.

In my head I have a memory file where I tend to make little mental links between films with similar themes, music, characters, and situations. It's just how my mind works. So I get to write my unfettered and amateur opinions here. I get to share a bunch of words on flicks.

So hopefully you'll want to tune into blogtalkradio.com/ewaterradio as I chat about various themes and topics in movies past and present.

In addition to this blog, I've launched a new Words On Flicks FaceBook page, and you can send me your ideas at janinec@wordsonflicks.com.

Thanks for indulging me and coming along for the journey.