Feel-Good Fluff or Insidiously Sexist Stuff? "Book Club"

Book Club (2019)
directed by Bill Holderman
starring Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen, Diane Keaton, Mary Steenburgen,
Andy Garcia, Don Johnson, Craig T. Nelson

Book Club is a movie that seems to be about the freedom, liberation, and wisdom of women of a certain age (over 60). With its casting of fabulous-looking senior actresses Jane Fonda (the most senior, at 80), along with blithe spirits Diane Keaton, Candice Bergen, and Mary Steenburgen, we have a powerhouse foursome of actresses who could pull off just about any script, never mind one bent on convincing audiences that age ain't nothin' but a number. These ladies look fit as a fiddle and ready for love (just ignore the fact that Candice seems stuffed to bursting in her stiff suits and that Diane Keaton's love of scarves in any weather belies either a pathological aversion to drafts or some serious wattle-neck).

Set in the sun-dappled upper-class enclave of Santa Monica, California, with a few side trips to upper-class enclave Scottsdale, Arizona (and the gorgeous vistas of Sedona), Book Club takes place in its own lovely and rarefied world of privilege, the plot floating along effortlessly on a tide of the wine the ladies continually guzzle down. During the opening credits, the film quickly short-hands the friendships and careers of these four friends, who are now incredibly successful (Fonda's character owns a major hotel); through the decades they have been gathering religiously for their book club meeting. The film would have us believe that their reading of the steamy S&M-light book series "Fifty Shades of Grey" unleashes some new level of sexual healing in their lives. This premise only serves as a shameless plug for the book series; thankfully, the script doesn't delve too deeply into the plot or characters of those books, but only uses them as a jumping off point. I think it would have been more effective to spoof the "Fifty Shades" and have the women read a series with an ersatz name that viewers would clearly be able to identify as a "Fifty Shades" clone. That would have been funnier and less bald-faced ad. And as it is, the book club meetings look like an excuse for the quartet to spout off about their lives and down copious amounts of wine.

For a 2018 film about successful women, Book Club still spouts some old-fashioned ideals about love and sex. These women are purportedly strong, accomplished, and self-directed, and yet the film seems to think they are nothing without a man. Yes, Sharon (Candice Bergen's character) is a respected federal court judge who has been abandoned by a weaselly husband for a much-younger woman. At 70, she is entitled to feel anger and bitterness; her initial stance eschewing romance seems perfectly reasonable. Deciding not to put oneself out there is a legitimate choice, but she is mocked and goaded by her friends into diving back into the dating pool.

Vivian (Fonda) is a love 'em and leave 'em hotel magnate who fears being emotionally manipulated or disappointed by love, a very real concern especially as an independent older woman with considerable financial assets. Yet, the real-talk speech she gives toward the end of the film about why she let a suitor go his way -- acknowledging the fact that older men can continue to woo and win younger women and often do -- is pooh-poohed in favor of having her risk all to chase True Love (never mind that her reunion with her ex consists of a rose garden fountain splash-off, a couple of drinks, and a nap).

Diane (Keaton, still rocking her signature Annie Hall menswear duds) is a well-off widow who ... I don't remember. She has two grown daughters (one of them Alicia Silverstone) who treat her like she's a doddering Alzheimer's patient in need of constant care, but she is devoted to her family and she worries that a new love will interfere with her responsibilities, overshadow memories of her dutiful husband, and upend her comfortable life.

And Carol (Steenburgen) is a thriving chef and restaurateur with a handsome husband with his own midlife crisis; her initial plan to fix things between them is to slip him a little Viagra mickey to spice up their sex life.

Book Club glosses over the real issues and impediments that dating over 60 may well present women today in favor of pat answers and ribald jokes. (Fonda's Netflix hit Grace and Frankie with longtime pal Lily Tomlin though also about rich white women, digs deeper, issues-wise.) Further, every suitor for these women is an AARP dreamboat, healthy, wealthy, and mostly younger. Sexy Don Johnson, 69 (and father of the Fifty Shades films' lead actress Dakota Johnson) shows up to romance Fonda years after their characters first tangoed; 62-year-old Andy Garcia plays an even-tempered pilot attracted to Keaton, a decade his senior; and a distinguished-looking Richard Dreyfuss (70) is a suitable match for Bergen (72). Even when one of Candice's dating-site suitors is the nerdy Wallace Shawn (whom Bergen memorably spurned in an episode of HBO's Sex & the City), he's still a successful doctor. And Steenburgen's spouse is hunky Craig T. Nelson, 74, who for a brief spell is more interested in riding his motorbike than her. Aside from the husband's temporary erectile dysfunction issues, and initial unwillingness to dance in public, these men appear problem and baggage-free.

Of the four actresses, it is Candice who bears the brunt of the film's most humiliating comic scenes: Taking her inert cat to the vet, the diagnosis about the state of her kitty is a withering barb(and gets one of the biggest laughs). Covered in a gloppy face mask, she is unexpectedly photographed by the dating website she finally signs up for; she gets pretzeled by punishing shapewear for all to see during a shopping trip; and she gets to look bedraggled (and a little desperate) in a sedan backseat when dating turns into mating.

This isn't to say that Book Club is without its charms or its laughs. Kudos to the scenery and cinematographer who captured it, the costume and makeup folks who made these ladies look like a million bucks. It is great to see this cast of accomplished older actresses stretch out in a major movie about romance, though I can't help but wonder what adding some diversity to the casting would have done (the addition of Fonda's Monster in Law co-star Wanda Sykes, the rebounding Leslie Uggams of Deadpool, or the regal Phylicia Rashad could have been really interesting). Because of its structure and premise, Book Club could be ripe for any number of prequels (the foursome in their younger years), sequels (another book, another set of "problems" for the ladies), and spinoffs (a completely different foursome reads the "Fifty Shades" books and embark on their own adventures).

And while the film is certainly intended as lighthearted comic fluff with the timeless message of "love conquers all," if you look too hard the message that sneaks through is that, whether women are 16 or 60, the fantasy ideal of finding a perfect love with a perfect man endures.

Remembering The Violence, Brilliance of "One False Move"

ONE FALSE MOVE (1992)
Starring Bill Paxton, Billy Bob Thornton, Michael Beach, Cynda Williams
Directed by Carl Franklin

My good friend Gil Robertson's African American Film Critics Association screened director Carl Franklin's One False Move in Los Angeles on April 29th, followed with a Q & A with the director. I wish I could have been there. I have a lot of affection for this film.

Way back in the early '90s, I was in NYC. I'd seen some advance reviews and ads for One False Move; I had never heard of director Carl Franklin, nor of Billy Bob Thornton, but I had seen some of Bill Paxton's work, and I was curious about a film that had a woman of color as one of the main characters in a Southern crime thriller. As it turned out, One False Move is a taut and complex film about a crew of murderous thieves on the run. At the same time, it's a clear-eyed look at how quaint and idyllic small-town life can seem deceptively simple, and a probing examination of human nature and how everyone has a fatal flaw. What makes the film so compelling is its characterizations and its beats, the way it starts out as a grim crime nail-biter, downshifts into clash-of-culture humor, and then transforms into a heartrending tragedy -- all without resorting to melodrama or pathos.

This is the first time I ever saw Thornton, who co-wrote the screenplay, in a major motion picture. The Arkansas native had already developed his Sling Blade character on the stage, but Sling Blade came to the screen in 1996. This was not the first time we see actor Michael Beach, who'd been in Lean on Me in 1989 and made his debut in End of the Line in 1987. But the character of Pluto, the cold blooded, intense and intellectual preppy killer, represented a new style of black villain. The film also provides a great character role for the late Bill Paxton as the hail-fellow-well-met small town lawman who is smarter than he looks. The acting he does in this role is truly accomplished.

In my estimation, One False Move is noteworthy in depicting black and white characters interacting in a natural way, where the drama does not stem entirely from racial tension. The action turns on the characters' personalities themselves and the friction between big city slickers and country folk. The conflict represented here is not white against black, but between the self-satisfied LA detectives who view the Star City, Arkansas, sheriff as a goofy, uninformed hick. But it is his thorough knowledge of the town's history as well as his own secret that leads to the apprehension of the criminals. Director Franklin -- who also helmed Devil in a Blue Dress -- is masterful at weaving together all the threads.


Synopsis (spoilers)

Trigger-happy thug Ray Malcolm (Thornton), his girlfriend Fantasia (Cynda Williams, Thornton's real-life wife at the time) and Ray's knife-wielding partner Pluto (Beach) decide to rip off drugs and cash from some L.A. drug dealers, then re-sell the drugs to one of Ray's contacts in Houston. The film starts as the three enter a home and the two men methodically menace then murder everyone in the house. Ray tells Fantasia to check the back rooms for stragglers, and when she finds a young boy hiding in a closet, she spares him by not telling the men. The matter-of-fact violence of this opening is so gruesome that it may be difficult for some viewers to get past.

But they should. Because as the flick unfolds we understand more about these three and how they interact: Ray's impulsive ignorance and abusive control over Fantasia, Pluto's ice-cold approach to their mission, Fantasia's downtrodden and confused demeanor. The trio leaves for Houston after trading in their stolen car, but the pressure escalates when Fantasia guns down a cop who stops them after being alerted by a nationwide APB on the murderous trio.

They decide that it would be best to split up, and Fantasia convinces Ray to let her go to their Star City hometown in Arkansas to hide out. He agrees, and the three decide to rendezvous in Star City later. Fantasia hops a bus, but unbeknownst to the men, she takes the money. Ray and Pluto go on to the dealer's house in Houston but encounter more problems and engage in another burst of violence. Discovering that Fantasia has taken off with their cash, the two hightail it to the wilds of Arkansas.

Star City is a midwesterner's dream: cornfields, cows, farmhouses, dusty roads, and tons of local country charm. The place is patrolled by a single lawman, Sheriff Dale "Hurricane" Dixon, whose high energy and blustery, good old boy persona cover a burning desire for more challenging police work. His country twang, pubescent enthusiasm, and nonstop chatter are a source of derisive amusement for the two slick Los Angeles-based detectives who arrive in town to track down the perpetrators of the cross-country murder spree. Seems Fantasia and Ray's connection to Star City led the police to check out the place, and Dale confirms that he knows Fantasia and her family. While Dale chomps at the bit to nab the criminals, the detectives laugh at him behind his back, and advise him to stand back and let them do the heavy lifting. "He's waiting on the bad guys like a kid waiting on Christmas," cracks Det. McFeely (Earl Billings) to his partner, Det. Cole (Jim Metzler). This scene at the local diner, where Dale accidentally overhears the City Slickers making fun of him, is still some of Paxton's best work.

Dale isn't going to let a little ridicule stand in the way of his chance to be part of a serious interstate crime investigation. He leads the detectives on a tour of the town, interrogates some locals (Dale's hilarious conversation with an elderly farmer about the whereabouts of his nephew Ray is worthy of the vaudeville circuit), and has Cole and McFeely home to supper with his cynical wife and young child. After Dale grills some steaks and grills the L.A. lawmen about work in the Big City he goes to fetch them more beer. His wife, mindful that her mate's lust for action could get him killed, asks the detectives to lower his expectations. "He don't know any better, he watches television," she tells them, adding pointedly, "I read non-fiction."

What Dale's wife and the L.A. detectives don't know is that Dale has more than just a passing acquaintance with Fantasia, who ran afoul of the law in the town while still a teen named Lila. Armed with intimate knowledge of her family and personality, Dale tracks her down before the detectives can get to her. During their reunion in an abandoned house, we understand the full impact of their past relationship, and how lingering guilt and remorse motivate Dale to protect her from both the long arm of the law and the vengeance of Ray and Pluto, who are due to arrive any moment.

Except Fantasia is beyond saving. It is Dale alone who faces the murderous pair in a gun battle when they arrive; Fantasia is killed in the crossfire. Wounded, Dale lies in the dirt as another local deputy arrives with Fantasia's young son. In the film's final frames, Dale speaks calmly to the boy, whom he finally accepts as his son.

Notes:

This is just the second big screen role for Cynda Williams, and her performance seems simple, but has layers of hurt, disappointment, lost innocence, identity confusion, and abuse victim. She is the most tragic figure in the film; in fact, One False Move could be said to contain elements of the Dizzy Dame or Cherchez La Femme plot, because Fantasia's decisions lead to doom: 1) she leaves a young witness to their murder spree alive, who ultimately identifies them; 2) she shoots a state trooper before Pluto and Ray can talk their way out of a vehicle stop, 3) she makes a beeline to her hometown and despite the danger of discovery, makes arrangements to see her son, 4) She absconds with the money, increasing the pressure for Ray and Pluto, 5) Her ties to Dale, a sheriff, lead to the trio's downfall, and 6) She distracts Dale at a pivotal moment in the final showdown, giving Ray a chance to shiv him. Fantasia is a lost innocent, a fallen woman, and she ends up paying the ultimate price.

The film is also notable for its unblinking view of violence, as shown in the first scene. The opening is a bit hard to take, and could sour viewers on the rest of the film.

Scarred for Life

So yeah, watching One False Move for the first time left me with a scar.

Before heading to the cinema in lower Manhattan, my companion and I downed more than a couple of adult beverages at a nearby restaurant. Naturally, I couldn't get through the flick without a visit the restroom. Every seat was filled in our row, so getting out was rough. I made it to the ladies' then ran back because I didn't want to miss any more of the film than I had to. The row behind ours was comparatively empty, so I decided it would be simpler to head down that aisle then climb over to my seat. In my buzzed state this seemed a perfectly reasonable course of action.

Except as I climbed over the seatback in the dim light, I placed my foot too far back on the upholstery and the seat flipped up. This caused my foot to plunge into the narrow space between the metal seatback and the seat itself, straight to the floor, scraping my ankle bone against the sharp edge of the seatback. It hurt like the blazes, but it was in the middle of the movie so I tried to keep quiet. Silently stinging, I watched the rest of the picture. I didn't even notice how serious the injury was until we'd said goodnight and I'd limped to the subway station, where a woman helpfully pointed to me and said, "Miss, you're bleeding pretty bad." My shoe was filled with blood and rust-red blotches streaked my pants leg. I pulled up the hem and saw that I had a long, jagged, bloody wound running down my ankle to the top of my foot. I went home, cleaned it, and slapped on some Band-Aids. I probably should have gotten stitches; it took decades for that scar to fade.

Thanks, One False Move. ***

All photos are screenshots.
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Hail, Wakandans! Support "A Wrinkle in Time" Too

Storm Reid as Meg Murry in A Wrinkle in Time.

If you have seen Black Panther more than once, hooray. Now get your coat, zip up your boots, and scrape up that popcorn money and go to see A Wrinkle in Time. Or at least buy the tickets for some of your people to go.

We must do all it can to support director Ava Duvernay as much as we supported Panther director Ryan Coogler; we have to come out in force to hold up narratives starring little black girls fighting forces of negativity and using the power of science to do it, just as much as we support a story about a catsuited superhero who reigns over a fictional country in Africa. We must do our best to support the artistic efforts of people of color in the entertainment industry, where so often the decision making about the stories that get made and who gets to direct and star in them have not traditionally been in our hands. Don't make Black Panther the exception to the entertainment industry's longstanding rules: Stories starring black characters don't sell tickets and entertainments by women directors don't sell tickets. Let's stop being so fickle and finicky, let's be consistent in our support for stories that reflect us. (And don't give me anything about the interracial parents in the story; this is what America looks like now, as the show says, This Is Us.)

While it is amazing and laudable to see the incredible worldwide success of Black Panther, a film directed by a 33-year-old Ryan Coogler in just his third major film project, I can't help but wonder about how and where we can make the same impact for other projects (and other causes). I realize that Black Panther cast a wider net in terms of audience: the casting, narrative, and settings appealed to people of African descent, but its superhero origin story pulled in all of those following figures in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and young and old of both genders and all races. It is going to outpace just about any other movie right now in terms of its reach. Meanwhile A Wrinkle in Time -- which earned $33.3 million in its first weekend, nothing to sniff at -- does not have the same broad and devoted target audience. It is a story for tweens and teens with a multicultural cast, telling a time-honored story that relies on science fiction and fantasy elements with the most elemental and limited of fight scenes and no R-rated language. It also a story starring a young black girl. The fact that it was made and helmed by Ms. DuVernay is worth celebrating ... by going to see it.

Letitia Wright as Princess Shuri in Black Panther.

Yes, Ryan Coogler did a fantastic job with Black Panther, on multiple levels. He benefitted from a built-in audience hungry for superhero narratives, hungry to see the first big-screen black superhero, hungry for another good versus evil caped crusader brawl. The premise automatically drew people into theaters. Now we have to work a little bit harder for Ava, who was handed a project previously termed "unfilmable," that doesn't have the promise of violence, language, and kick-assery, that stars a character who could have been Wakanda's Princess Shuri a few years earlier and a continent away.

As I follow social media, I have seen significantly less excitement about Ava DuVernay's accomplishment as the first black female director to helm a $100 million film than I have about Ryan Coogler's box office coup ($1.07 billion in worldwide box office receipts and counting). But at a time some two years after #OscarsSoWhite, when we are starting to see change, we have to remain committed to our convictions. While folks bought their tickets weeks in advance and lined up for hours to see Black Panther, I'm still seeing a lack of enthusiasm and indifferent about catching DuVernay's screen epic. The answer to the online question of whether folks planned to see A Wrinkle in Time in the weeks leading up to the opening was often a curt, NO, or Waiting for NetFlix, or Not my thing. This was the same response for Taraji P. Henson's Proud Mary, which was not by any means terrible; it was a genre film starring a magnetic and capable actress who went out on a limb to produce the film herself. It's unfair.

Women in Hollywood already have a tough row to hoe, never mind being an African American woman in Hollywood. They fight to create their own projects, build up their own reputations and filmographies, and hope that each project is successful enough to give them the opportunity to do another. Getting scooped up to helm a major studio release is like grabbing a brass ring. And if Ava DuVernay does not make back the studio's money on this project, she will have to fight through a lot of negativity within the industry, in the media, and in public opinion when it comes time to direct again. Oh, We Gave A Black Woman Director A Chance But She Couldn't Deliver -- that will be the studio's narrative. The media is already having a field day with its brutal headlines: "Limping," "Disappoints," "Crumbles," "Well-Intentioned." This language will stop more audiences from spending time with the film -- which is not targeted to adults who read reviews! And it may be a long time before another woman of color gets a crack at another big-budget studio film of this magnitude. When this is pointed out in the media, some of you are going to be angry and upset, but it will be too late. We may have to wait a long time to see this happen again.

So I have to wonder, too, if when Hollywood -- as in politics -- tries to push and promote a woman, a black woman, into a place of power and acclaim, if we are really ready for it. But that's another thorny question.

Instead of seeing Panther for a third or fourth time, please take that cash and bring your kids, your neighbors' kids, and your siblings' kids to see A Wrinkle in Time. And not just the girls, either, bring the boys too. It's important.

Love Me Like A Rock: "Phantom Thread"

Phantom Thread
directed by Paul Thomas Anderson
starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Vicky Krieps, Lesley Manville

What to say about Phantom Thread. Hmmmm...

Well, it seems that I have a thing for director Paul Thomas Anderson, because in his films you are not going to get a standard narrative, and I do like being surprised. With his films you are going to get a thought-provoking, confronting, unusual film experience that makes you examine in depth the often-illogical and sometime unpleasant ways that being human asserts itself. Consider The Master, Inherent Vice, Boogie Nights, There Will Be Blood. These films offer unique narratives about the fraught relationships between some extremely complicated -- OK, weird -- people.

On its surface, Phantom Thread is about a successful, meticulous, and insular man and the way in which love disrupts his very ordered life.

Looked at from another angle, the film is about a war of wills between an older man and a very determined young woman who will not be discarded or dismissed. (I was reminded of Glenn Close's plaintive statement from Fatal Attraction some 30 years ago: "I'm not going to be ignored, Dan.")

This is about a grown man with severe, unacknowledged Mommy issues, who strikes an unusual psychological bargain that allows him to crawl, helpless, into the nurturing arms of a strong female from time to time.

At its heart, the film is about what truly shapes a relationship, about the totally unseen and unsuspected reality of reciprocal need and desire that draws two people into a partnership, i.e. the phantom thread sewn through the fabric of two people's lives that stitches them irrevocably together. When this thread is revealed toward the end of the film, we the viewers are aghast. Particularly because the film itself is so mannered, so elegant, so well composed and measured, so politely English, and the bargain struck between the couple at the center of the story seems almost macabre.

The main character, Reynolds Woodcock (played by the marvelous Daniel Day-Lewis), is a highly regarded British couturier who designs and constructs dresses for a fashionable 1950s clientele that includes countesses, princesses, society dames, and the like. Fussy, eccentric, demanding, rich, and wholly self-involved, Reynolds trusts only his sister and business partner, the equally dour and demanding Cyril (a perfect Lesley Manville), whose every move caters to the personal whims and professional needs of her brother. Their business occupies an impeccable and fashionable London townhouse, staffed by a bevy of loyal seamstresses and patternmakers and, on occasion, by Reynolds' lover of the moment, a young woman who is usually fired and ushered out by Cyril.

At an English seaside hotel restaurant, Reynolds acquires a lovely young waitress, Alma (a Mona Lisa-like Vicky Krieps), who becomes new lover and muse. He flatters her, measures her for new gowns, shares his memories of his late mother, who inspired him to sew, and ultimately brings her to the townhouse and installs her as part of the household. Except that Alma, who is feisty, opinionated, and in love, doesn't quite fit into the be-seen-but-not-heard role Reynolds demands. Though he shares with her the secrets of his craft, and the fact that messages or coins can be sewn into the lining of a garment, and learns that Alma truly recognizes the creative sanctity of his work, Reynolds is mostly a cold customer.

After some unpleasant confrontations between the patronizing and wholly selfish Reynolds and a hurt Alma, the young woman decides to take drastic action to get Reynolds to "settle down" and return to a state of vulnerability and tenderness she knows he is capable of, a state in which Reynolds recognizes and affirms his love of Alma. Soon Reynolds becomes ill, and Alma locks everyone else out, including Cyril, to nurse him back to health. After this episode, Reynolds asks Alma to marry him, and Alma accepts.

But within months, Reynolds regrets the marriage, becomes annoyed with everything Alma does, cannot concentrate on work, becomes verbally abusive to Alma, and begs Cyril to help him correct the enormous "mistake" that he's made. Alma, overhearing Reynolds' fitful complaints to his sister, again takes matters into her own hands to get Reynolds to "settle down." It is in the final moments of the film when we learn that Reynolds is not only aware of Alma's plans, but condones them.

The film's story is framed by Alma explaining to a young doctor how and why her relationship with Reynolds continues to work. But the nature of this bargain is beyond the doctor's -- and our -- ability to comprehend.

Should you see it? Sure. If you're a fan of Day-Lewis, great filmmaking, and scratch-your-head endings. But the truth is, more than one relationship has a funky phantom thread running through it. And it should by all means remain hidden from view.

Random Notes:

* The impeccable cinematography and attention to sartorial splendor reminded me in some ways of fashion designer/film director Tom Ford's directorial debut, 2009's A Single Man.

* The film's score -- combining lush composed music by Jonny Greenwood with a mix of classical pieces and period big band melodies -- enhances the overall mood of the piece as something elevated and atmospheric, but also tense and timeless.

* The scenes of industry within Woodcock's townhouse reminded me of a more personal memory, of what it's like to go to work daily in a historic home. The soundscape is very different from working in an office environment, where you often have carpeting, glass, and other expanses of man-made and modern materials, including elevators. I was reminded that as a teenager, in the late 1970s, I worked as a program assistant at New York's International Center of Photography, which was then housed in New York City's historic Willard D. Straight House, a four-story Georgian-style mansion on Fifth Avenue and 94th Street (the museum and school have since moved and expanded to several locations). I was captured by the sounds of the door hinges creaking, the glass door knobs, the ringing of footsteps along the parquet floors, the climbing to various high-ceilinged offices along the grand wooden staircases in a building that had been constructed as the home of a rich New Yorker some 70 years earlier.

* Love and politics make for strange bedfellows.

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*all photos screenshots

Guest Review: "The Post"

“THE POST”
directed by Steven Spielberg
starring Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks

By Leslie Hunter-Gadsden

This review was written by my longtime friend and high school classmate. She raved about the film, and since I hadn't seen it, I said "have at it!"

It is amazing how timely “The Post” feels when you consider that The Washington Post and The New York Times were pushing to publish the Pentagon Papers in 1971 – 47 years ago. The antagonism between members of the media and representatives of the U.S. government strikes a chord with viewers in light of the current administration’s sparring with the media and labeling most unfavorable reports as “fake news.”

Steven Spielberg’s take on the working relationship between Washington Post publisher Katharine Graham and editor Ben Bradlee is an excellent bird’s eye view of an era when men were grudgingly forced to accept that women could be not only their co-workers but – gasp – even their bosses. In one scene, Graham (portrayed by Meryl Streep) tells a room filled with male board members, legal counsel, and editors including Ben Bradlee (portrayed by Tom Hanks): “This is not my father’s paper. This is not my husband’s paper. It is MY PAPER!” I felt like shouting “Time’s Up!”

The film shows Katharine Graham as a privileged, well-educated, white socialite who was described by a male Washington Post board member as “giving great parties” attended by a who’s who list of D.C. government movers and shakers. But Graham assumed the publisher post after the 1963 suicide of her husband, Philip Graham, the paper’s former publisher who succeeded her father, Eugene Meyer, after he stepped down as publisher. By the time U.S. military analyst Daniel Ellsberg leaked the Pentagon Papers, first to The New York Times and next to The Washington Post in 1971, Graham had been publisher for eight years.

Splicing in scenes of street protests with the action in boardrooms, newsrooms and the New York Stock Exchange, Spielberg does a great job of communicating the growing frustration of the American public after Ellsberg’s Pentagon Papers revealed that American involvement in the Vietnam War was the result of three decades of government lies which impacted the success of U.S. troops.

Not only did I enjoy watching the power plays between prospective newspaper investors, editors, government representatives and the publisher that the film portrays, but I loved the attention paid to how women were treated by men inside and outside the newsroom in 1971. Spielberg doesn’t hold back as he shows how Graham has to battle the condescending way she is treated and spoken to by Bradlee and others as she fights to be taken seriously by the men she encounters and finds the courage to make a tough decision for The Washington Post on whether to publish the Pentagon Papers or not. While Graham is the central female character, the film also includes scenes showing how women with less power and money than her are evolving in the 1970s.

On a personal note, this film reminded me of why I decided to become a journalist and what it was like when I interned at two newspapers in 1981. The newsroom scenes were authentic, from the overall chaos of ringing telephones to the pneumatic tubes used to file completed stories and send them to the copy desk. For anyone working in a newsroom or just living life before smart phones, seeking a private phone conversation during work hours meant leaving your desk and going outside of the office to find a phone booth – and using coins to make the call! Spielberg adds this reality to his newsroom tableau as a seasoned reporter reaches out to Ellsberg via a pay phone outside the Washington Post, nervously dropping lots of coins on the ground mid-call.

No matter the age of the viewer, this film does a good job of translating the fact that news organizations have the ability to shine a light on all aspects of our government, even if it requires a Supreme Court decision. It also highlights the power struggles within news organizations themselves and the continuous journey women are on as they fight to be respected and listened to in a still patriarchal society.

I highly recommend seeing this film. Sure, Spielberg could have taken the time to include a bit of dialogue on why there were only a few faces of color in the newsroom scenes, i.e. the ever-present lack of diversity in major media, then and now. But overall, the film was accurate with stellar acting and great pacing. I felt suspense at several points, even though the outcome is already a part of recorded history.


Leslie Hunter-Gadsden is a journalist and educator with over 30 years of experience writing for print and online publications. A life-long resident of New York City, her current passions include writing personal essays, dancing, enjoying her husband and grown son and daughter, and researching her ancestors.


*screenshot of Twentieth-Century Fox trailer

Mother Mary Comes To Me, Armed: "Proud Mary"

Proud Mary
Directed by Babak Najafi

Trotted myself off to the local AMC cineplex to catch Taraji P. Henson as star and producer of Proud Mary this past weekend. Gotta say, I enjoyed myself. Now, I have to say that my enjoyment is predicated on a couple of things: I'm female, I'm relatively middle-aged, and I'm a TPH fan. So this makes me the perfect audience. Still, it's a fine film and I'm perplexed by reports that Screen Gems hasn't put the full weight of their promotion machine behind it, considering that African Americans and people of color generally make up the majority of the viewing audience. I'm also perplexed by many folks publically declaring that they plan to miss it until it shows up on cable or streaming services because it doesn't appeal to them. Certainly it's anyone's prerogative to see a film where and when they like, or even not to see it all, and I understand that some may be put off by a narrative about an African American gang moll, but the negativity, people! Give it a chance!

Here are some of my notes:

1. TPH gives a strong performance. The script allows us to see her as a hardboiled operative, but also as a conflicted woman who regrets some of her choices and wants to change her life. There is a softer side to Mary. But in order to get to that peace in the valley, she has to climb a mountain of ... dead bodies.

2. The flick may remind many of the John Cassavetes' 1980 film Gloria, starring his wife Gena Rowlands (it was remade, unnecessarily and unfortunately, by Sidney Lumet in 1999 with Sharon Stone in the title role). In it, a tough ex-gangster's moll tries to prevent the Mob from offing the sole young survivor of a gangland killing. Movies can't resist telling us that the maternal instinct will turn any woman into a supernatural Lioness. (Remember, it was thwarted motherhood that sent Beatrix Kiddo on her intercontinental killing spree in Kill Bill.)

3. I enjoyed the performance given by Jahi Di'Allo Winston as the boy Mary takes under her wing. He's engaging, handsome, and he can play both toughness and vulnerability, which was perfect for the part. (He also charmed as young Ralph Tresvant in last year's TV hit The New Edition Story.) He and Taraji had some great scenes together.

4. It could be said that the film feels a bit slow and leisurely in places. That there are holes and lapses in logic in the plot (as in telling a child not to do something is a bottom-line guarantee that he will do it, for starters). That Mary's backstory could have been pumped up a bit more to increase the pace and make us appreciate her skills and history in the underworld crew. But I was OK with the slower scenes. I find it wearisome when every single film is throwing action, info, and images off the screen at breakneck speed. Sometimes fast and furious does not equal smart and clever, but we've been conditioned by a spate of whiz-bang thrillers and superhero flicks to be bombarded. It's nice to be able to just savor a narrative. (Perhaps that's a function of my age; I grew up watching films where character, plot, and tension were allowed to build over the course of the film's running time.) Still, some of the scenes in her apartment dragged down the film's momentum.

5. The perception of drag in the movie could well be influenced by Danny Glover's labored line readings. On a recent social media thread about the flick, someone commented that this is his worst performance yet. I don't know; he isn't given much to do here. I'm a Glover fan, and I still harbor fond recollections of him as a Pomeranian-stroking underworld boss in 1991's A Rage In Harlem. But I have to acknowledge that Glover has always had a mucklemouthed delivery, like his tongue is too fat for his mouth, and his striated voice is only getting more and more rusty as he ages. I described his voice in 2014's Beyond The Lights as "incomprehensible fog." Now his vocal performance has become so distressed and hoarse that in his every scene, I wondered if his audio track was out of sync, since his words seemed to arrive at our ears several seconds after he'd wheezed them out.

6. There is plenty of action and gunfire here. Does it seem over the top? Yes. While the plot explains that underworld boss Luka and Mary's boss Benny (Glover) are rivals, the scope of their operations is never made plain. But it is serious enough for many Bostonians to die in their service.

7. I have to give props to the film's music. The score (by Fil Eisler?) is dynamic, atmospheric, taut and sensitive. While I certainly enjoyed the soundtrack of existing tracks -- including Ike & Tina Turner's version of "Proud Mary," Anthony Hamilton's "Coming From Where I'm From," and more -- the choices in some places seemed too obvious and over the top, particularly in the use of "Proud Mary" as the musical theme. The song is rousing, certainly, but didn't seem to match with Mary's motivations.

But overall, Proud Mary is about redemption. And as a theme for any screen entertainment, it still works. And it adds significantly to Taraji's expansive portfolio as a multi-talented force in films. Of this Mary, we can be proud.

(Proud Mary photo courtesy Screen Gems)

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Prepping for "Proud Mary" with Tales of Hitmen Past

I'm preparing for Taraji P. Henson's new flick Proud Mary. I don't have especially high expectations for the movie in terms of it being Oscar-worthy or anything, but as a fan of a good actioner, I'm looking forward to seeing my girl flex her guns (and her weapons, too). Why shouldn't she get to show how slick, fit, cold-blooded and butt-kicking a character she can be? We are already acquainted with Taraji's incredible capacity for fierceness, thanks to her smoking chops in Empire. Now it's her turn to get physical.

Angelina Jolie had her outings hefting guns bigger than her in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, Salt, and the forgotten 2008 thriller Wanted. Charlize Theron has been a badass in last year's Atomic Blonde, Mad Max: Fury Road, the Aeon Flux series, and even 1996's 2 Days in the Valley, where she had an epic girlfight with Teri Hatcher. Uma Thurman was not only The Bride in Kill Bill, but Emma Peel in the New Avengers, a superhero in the comedy My Super Ex Girlfriend, and Poison Ivy in Batman & Robin.

Taraji's entry no doubt follows in the mold of numerous blaxploitation sheroes of the 70s, like Pam Grier, Teresa Graves, Gloria Hendry, Vonetta McGee, Tamara Dobson and the like. But unlike many of these ladies, whose characters were usually motivated by revenge or justice, the Proud Mary character appears to do what she does for money alone. Will have to actually watch the movie to understand her motivations and payoffs. After all, the movie is called "Proud Mary." What makes her proud?

Proud Mary looks to be part of a long list of movies about what filmmakers imagine to be the fast-paced, high stakes, high-paying, and stylish yet lonely, complicated, desensitizing world of professional killers who must face life-and-death decisions every single day. The risks and morality of their profession make them the perfect character studies.

Aside from the more recent The Hitman's Bodyguard, which I didn't see (should I?), here are a handful of relatively recent yarns about tortured hit men that I found interesting:

1. Grosse Pointe Blank (1997)
A hilarious and simultaneously violent movie that manages to skewer politics, corporate career advancement, the American dream, and suburban values while asking questions about life, love, and one's taste in music. Grosse Pointe Blank follows Martin Blank (fast-talking John Cusack), a 30something hitman undergoing a mid-career crisis. On what he plans as his last assignment, he travels back home to the Michigan city of the title where he must execute a target (only identified in a sealed dossier he delays opening) before a pair of Federal agents stops him or a team of freelance assassins led by Grocer (Dan Aykroyd) kills Blank and hits the target themselves. In the meantime, Blank decides to attend his ten-year high school reunion and resume courtship of the sweetheart (Minnie Driver) he abandoned just before prom. Throughout the film Blank has a back and forth with himself and those around him about doing what he does. "If I show up at your door, chances are you did something to bring me there," he explains to his terrified therapist (Alan Arkin). "It's not me! Why does everybody think it's me?" he grouses for the millionth time about the impersonal nature of his job, while violence and mayhem rain down around him. "No, no, no, psychopaths kill for no reason, I kill for money, it's a job!" he tries explain to his horrified girl. The jokes, jibes, and spot-on notes about modern life fly as fast as the bullets, all powered by an amiable New Wave soundtrack. One of my favorite flicks.

2. Killing Them Softly (2009)
Few people saw this elegiac crime noir starring Brad Pitt as Jackie Cogan, a Boston-based fixer charged with taking down the palookas who foolishly robbed a Mob-connected poker game. Jackie prefers to take out his victims from a distance with no warning, thus "killing them softly." He dispatches one of the robbers himself, but since he's personally acquainted with the other marks, he decides to sub-contract the gig to Mickey Fallon, an old-school hitman played by the late, great James Gandolfini in an incredible performance that nearly derails the whole film. Unfortunately Mickey is a wreck: A drunken, overweight parole violator just out of stir who precedes the job with drugs, alcohol and hookers and ultimately can't perform, leaving Jackie to do what must be done. It's a slow, atmospheric film with a lingering sense of dread enhanced by constant peeks at televised news bulletins and 2008's presidential debates showing the grim realities of economics in America. The story has the same leisurely pace, affection for its characters, and Boston Irish accent as the much earlier The Friends of Eddie Coyle, and indeed, both films were adapted from novels by George V. Higgins (1974's "Cogan's Trade" in this instance). The story ends with Jackie in a bar haggling over what he's been paid for the three hits. "F--k you, pay me!" he demands, echoing what he feels America is really all about.

3. The Professional (aka Léon) (1995)
Jean Reno plays Léon, a taciturn, illiterate and lonely hitman living in a tiny apartment in Harlem. His daily routine consists of drinking milk, exercising, cleaning his guns, and waiting for his next assignment in between executing hits around the city, while his fees are pocketed by his Little Italy-based boss "for safekeeping." But when the family of Matilda, the precocious 12-year-old girl next door (Natalie Portman) is wiped out by a crooked, sadistic DEA lieutenant (Gary Oldman) over stolen drug money, Léon finds himself the reluctant guardian and mentor for this orphaned Lolita. As their relationship unfolds, Matilda teaches him more about life and familial love and he teaches her the tricks of his trade as a "cleaner." Intent on avenging the deaths of her family, specifically her innocent young brother, Matilda is no match for Oldman until Léon lends a hand, dispatching bad guys in spectacular fashion.

4. Kill Bill, Vols. 1 & 2 (2003-2004)
Quentin Tarantino's epic tale of revenge undertaken by Uma Thurman's unwavering Bride (aka Beatrix Kiddo), these films give us a lot to chew on about the imagined lives of a crew of professional assassins. How all of these vindictive killers manage to stay aligned under the rule of Bill, aka The Snake Charmer, is a mystery since they all seem to be a pretty bad-tempered lot. Their Deadly Assassination Viper Squad requires them to adopt the codenames of troublesome snakes, not all of them venomous; their names seem to reflect their personalities more than their killing abilities, as the Bride becomes Black Mamba, Elle Driver is California Mountain Snake, O-Ren Ishii is Cottonmouth, Vernita Green is Copperhead, and Bill's brother Budd is Sidewinder. We learn quite a bit about the physical training in martial arts (Camp Pai Mei, anyone?), tools of the trade (swords in this day and age!), and nerves-of-steel techniques used by these killers and their adversaries. They know martial arts, knives, guns, swords, darts, spears, poisons, languages, survival techniques, espionage and more. Who can forget Vol. 2's pregnancy scene, with Karen Kim wielding that giant shotgun in an attempt to take out The Bride at the hotel? She was no joke, either. The thing is, when you hang with killers, you usually get killed. And in a revenge tale about a trained killer versus a bunch of trained killers, things are bound to get intense.

5. ShadowBoxer (2005)
The lives of contract killers don't get anymore complicated than they do in this flick. Mikey (Cuba Gooding, Jr.) and his cancer-stricken stepmother Rose (Helen Mirren) are professional assassins and also lovers. Called in by a contact to kill his pregnant wife, who he suspects of cheating, the duo instead find the wife ready to give birth. They decide to help their target through labor and delivery, then spirit mother and child away to another city for safekeeping. Mikey continues to dodge the woman's husband and carry out hits as Rose gets sicker and sicker. Then comes the scene most remember. At Rose's request, Mikey takes his beloved on a picnic deep in the woods, makes love to her, and shoots her in the head. The film continues to show the unraveling consequences Mikey faces for harboring the wife and her son, but who cares. He killed Helen Mirren in an act of love! It's the hit man's way of pulling the plug. Mikey ultimately prevails to survive another day.

6. Looper (2012)
In another twisted take on the genre, this film poses the question: What is a hitman to do when the target is ... himself? In this dystopian future, Joseph Gordon-Leavitt plays Joe, a member of an elite crew of live-for-today 2044 hooligans called Loopers. This assassin ring kills crime world targets from 2074, delivered back over the years via an outlawed time machine. Unfortunately being a “looper” comes with the proviso that they only get 30 years to serve until they too get looped back for execution. All hell breaks loose when Joe from 2074 (Bruce Willis) loops himself back to kill a murdering mob boss as a baby, while young Joe tries to stop him. Complicated plot, interesting premise.

So, what will Taraji bring to the genre? Can't wait to see. (PS -- I did see it; check out my thoughts here.)

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