UNpregnant: A Review and Commentary

****THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SOME MINOR SPOILERS!!! THIS IS NOT A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!****

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This stillborn comedy is a mess of a movie but it does succeed as a piece of pro-abortion agitprop

Last week was a good week if you crave poorly crafted movies designed to trigger culture war clashes, but a bad week if you’re a cinephile more interested in quality cinema than political posturing.

On September 9th, Netflix defecated Cuties, the controversial French film that hypersexualizes 11 year-old girls, onto an unsuspecting and uncomfortable public.

The very next day, September 10th, HBO Max picked up the gauntlet of inappropriateness and released UNpregnant, its teen girl, road trip, abortion buddy comedy.

Thankfully UNpregnant is rated PG13, which means the scantily-clad, twerking 11 year-olds of Cuties only have a two year wait before they can watch the movie-version of the abortion handbook that is UNpregnant.

UNpregnant is the story of Veronica (Haley Lu Richardson), a 17 year-old over-achiever in Missouri who asks her misfit former friend Bailey (Barbie Ferreira) to give her a ride to New Mexico for an abortion.

Missouri and its surrounding states all have laws against minor’s getting abortions without parental consent, and Veronica is afraid to tell her “Jesus freak” Catholic parents, so she needs to hit the road to the Land of Enchantment for the no-strings, underage abortion at the end of the rainbow.

In mythical girl power fashion, Veronica and Bailey’s journey is undertaken in a Pontiac Firebird, because like a phoenix, these girls will rise from the ashes of the patriarchal society that oppresses them…or something like that.

Unfortunately, UNpregnant is a painfully conventional and relentlessly dull film. It’s ironic that a movie burdened with such flaccid performances and impotent comedy should be about a pregnancy borne out of unrestrained virility.

The film’s dreadful script, which is in part written by Ted Caplan and Jenni Hendriks and is based upon their book of the same name, reads like the exposition Olympics, and Rachel Lee Goldenberg’s direction is abysmally amateurish.

The two leads, Haley Lu Richardson and Barbie Ferreira, try as hard as they might, lack any comedy chemistry whatsoever. Both of them push so hard to make something funny happen that you’d think they were actually in labor…but the fruits of that labor never appear as apparently the comedy in their performances was aborted too and never had the chance to grow beyond a miniscule fetus.

UNpregnant wraps itself so tight in liberal political correctness it could pass for a social justice mummy. The movie has all the right heroes and heroines and all the proper enemies to appease the woke faithful.

For instance, the film exerts a great deal of energy proving it isn’t racist by having every single black person in the movie be wonderful allies to the abortion cause.

Yes, these black people, like Peg, the pawn shop owner with the heart of gold, Jarrod, the local cowboy with the heart of gold, and Bob, the apocalyptic conspiracist with the heart of gold, are all edgy and dangerous, but ultimately, due to their previously mentioned hearts of gold, end up being kind and extremely helpful to Ivy league bound, suburban white girl Veronica in her abortion quest. 

And just in case viewers were confused about the cultural politics of the movie, there’s a superfluous lesbian romance thrown in too.

As for the villains, there’s Kevin, Veronica’s white, empty-headed yet controlling, stalker boyfriend, who intentionally failed to reveal the condom broke. Like all straight white men in Hollywood movies nowadays, Kevin is simply no good.

The most deplorable villains in the movie though are a family of pro-life, white Christians who are the personification of evil. This family is meant to represent the pro-life movement, as unsubtly indicated by their secret “pro-life” room in their home, and by their mobile pregnancy and ultrasound equipped recreational vehicle, which they use to chase down Veronica and Bailey.

The sequence with the evil pro-life family is so farcical and tonally out of step with the rest of the movie, it feels like it is intentionally placed there for no other reason than to denigrate and inflame Christians.

Needlessly ridiculing Christians is not exactly a sound marketing strategy if, like UNpregnant, you are trying to make a popular movie and not some niche arthouse film. Proof of this is that UNpregnant currently has a 40% audience score at Rotten Tomatoes, which makes total sense since 65% of Americans identify as Christian.

The film does currently boast an 85% critical score at Rotten Tomatoes, but I think that has everything to do with it being a shameless advertisement for abortion and woke utopian wet dream of anti-Christianity for establishment liberals rather than any honest analysis of its artistic or entertainment merits.

As a cinematic venture, as a comedy and as a piece of entertainment, UNpregnant fails miserably, but as a piece of agitprop that normalizes abortion, which I believe is the movie’s ultimate intention, it thoroughly succeeds.

Abortion in UNpregnant is depicted as a gateway to freedom and truth and an undeniable good. Abortion is portrayed as this wondrous and physically, mentally and emotionally painless procedure that leaves girls emphatically relieved and joyously buoyant in its wake. As post-abortion Veronica sums up to her mother at movie’s end, “I don’t feel bad…”

I’m glad at least someone didn’t feel bad at the end of the movie, because I sure did, and not because of UNpregnant’s political stance on the complex issue of abortion, or its ham-handed cultural politics, but because it is an unfunny, cliché-ridden, mess of a movie that is poorly written, acted and directed.

In conclusion, UNpregnant is a stillborn cinematic dud that should have taken its own advice and aborted itself in the first trimester of its creative process.

 A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2020

Cuties: A Review and Commentary

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. The deviant, under-aged sexuality in Cuties doesn’t make the middling movie an art house gem. It’s incredible some critics are blind to its toxic depravity just to score political points.

Cuties premiered on Netflix this week amid much controversy and fanfare. As a film critic, I am willing to give the artistic benefit of the doubt to most any movie, so as I sat down to watch Cuties I was conscious of the controversy surrounding the film, which started three weeks ago after Netflix’s marketing material made the movie look like it was sexually exploiting 11 year-old girls. But I was also open minded enough to think the film might not match the marketing.

Cuties starts off with an intriguing premise that is bursting with dramatic potential as it tells the story of Amy, an 11 year old immigrant from Senegal, as she navigates the clash between her old world, Islamic family, and the modernity and libertinism of her new French friends.

Unfortunately, Cuties pretty quickly devolves from its powerful premise and becomes licentious and lurid rather than dramatically lucid. Director Maimouna Doucoure makes the egregious error of trying to make a social commentary about how modernity hypersexualizes young girls by actually hypersexualizing young girls. It is like making a social comment on animal cruelty by actually torturing animals on film.

I am a cinephile, not a pedophile, so I found Doucoure’s repeated and extended shots of 11 year-old girl’s scantily clad, gyrating pelvis, buttocks and groins to be gratuitous, shocking and frankly, repulsive.

It is amazing that there are people out there, like highly respected film critic Richard Brody of The New Yorker, in a lather vehemently defending the film. Brody’s review is not so subtly titled, “Cuties, the Extraordinary Netflix Debut That Became the Target of a Right-Wing Campaign” praises the film but ultimately indicts the critic.

Brody boasts, “I doubt that the scandal-mongers (who include some well-known figures of the far right) have actually seen “Cuties,” but some elements of the film that weren’t presented in the advertising would surely prove irritating to them: it’s the story of a girl’s outrage at, and defiance of, a patriarchal order.”

I’ve seen Cuties and I’m not a right-winger, and yet I’m able to see the insidiousness of exploiting little girl’s sexually under the guise of being against the “patriarchy”…why isn’t David Brody? Brody and his ilk are so eager for a culture war fight they are completely blind to the striking malevolence of Cuties.

For Brody, Cuties is just another opportunity to signal his alleged liberal virtue as evidenced by his statement, “The subject of “Cuties” isn’t twerking; it’s children, especially poor and nonwhite children, who are deprived of the resources—the education, the emotional support, the open family discussion—to put sexualized media and pop culture into perspective.”

It would seem Brody is over estimating the power of education, as he is a Princeton grad and yet he is incapable of putting the deviant sexuality of Cuties into proper perspective. Brody’s review comes to a close by stating, ““Cuties” dramatizes what people of color and immigrants endure as a result of isolation and ghettoization, of not being represented culturally and politically… it’s enough to give a right-winger a conniption.”

To Brody and other Cuties defenders, and there are plenty of them as the film has a 90% critical score on Rotten Tomatoes, Cuties is just another gateway drug to the cultural narcotic of racism, sexism, xenophobia and all the rest, and is just another cudgel against “right wingers”.

The beauty of it is that Brody is chastising “right-wingers” for politicizing Cuties by politicizing his review of Cuties, just like the film comments on the hypersexualization of kids by hypersexualizing kids. This is Matrix level, multi-dimensional chess of the highest order.

On a purely artistic and cinematic level, Cuties is a decidedly middling affair. Director/writer Doucoure makes some rudimentary structural and character development errors that undermine the film to a great degree.

In addition, despite its one good shot, which is its final one, the film has no distinct visual flair and only seems capable of mimicking the style of those creepy American Apparel ads that were shot by…not surprisingly…famous photographer and alleged sexual predator Terry Richardson. 

There is one scene where 11 year-old Amy is basically possessed by some evil, uncontrollable twerking demon, where in close-up she is sprinkled with water and gyrates in skimpy underwear, that was particularly reminiscent Richardson’s lascivious style.

What struck me as I watched Cuties was that there was a much more interesting, complicated and artistically worthy subject hiding in plain sight and that would be a story where one of the truly awful little girls in Cuties, who dresses like a whore and twerks and watches porn, actually leaves her religion of libertinism and becomes enamored and engrossed in an old world religion like Islam, Catholicism or Orthodox Christianity, or Orthodox Judaism. 

Brody and his companions in the elite establishment would despise that version of the movie because it would show the depravity of the chaotic libertine world they cheer while showing a viable, and although not perfect but much more ordered, alternative.

In conclusion, being a film critic is sometimes a good job and sometimes a bad one. On the good days you get paid to watch a Terrence Malick film…on the bad days you are forced to endure Cuties. I highly recommend you do yourself a favor and skip Cuties and spare your mind and soul from being subjected to the toxic depravity of little girls being drowned in the most repugnant of cinematic sexual stews.

A version of this article was originally published at RT.

©2020

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 23 - Richard Jewell

On today’s podcast Barry and I take a look at the 2019 Clint Eastwood film, Richard Jewell. On the episode we discuss the hopefully soon-to-be discovered, glorious genius of the film’s star Paul Walter Hauser, as well as the reliable acting brilliance of Kathy Bates and Sam Rockwell. In addition we wrestle with the often-times frustrating nature of Clint Eastwood’s directing approach and the never ending mystery of Jon Hamm.

LOOKING CALIFORNIA AND FEELING MINNESOTA: EPISODE 23 - RICHARD JEWELL

Thank you for listening!

©2020

The Old Guard: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Just an idiotically dreadful piece of movie junk.

The Old Guard, directed by Gina Prince-Bythewood and written by Greg Rucka (based on his comic book of the same name), tells the story of a group of centuries old “immortals” - warriors who cannot be killed, and their leader Andromache, as they navigate a hostile modern world. The film stars Charlize Theron as Andromache, with supporting turns from Mathias Schoenaerts, Chiwetel Ejiofor, Kiki Layne and Harry Melling.

As the coronavirus cinema void continues unabated, Netflix has attempted to meet movie demand with some of its original content…such as the action/sci-fi film The Old Guard.

The Old Guard is not a movie I would ever venture out to see in the theatre even in the best of times, but Netflix now has leverage over me since I’ve not been able to get my cinema fix for over four months now…and so…I succumbed and rolled the dice on The Old Guard.

To be fair, my bet on The Old Guard wasn’t entirely a long shot as Charlize Theron has proven herself to be a formidable action movie protagonist…the glorious Mad Max: Fury Road and the entertaining Atomic Blonde being proof of that. The movie also boasts two actors I have long admired, Matthias Schoenaerts and Chiwetel Ejiofor, among its cast. So while I didn’t have my hopes up, I also wasn’t expecting it to be abominable.

Boy was I wrong.

The Old Guard is an awful movie.

It is also as ineffectively directed as any major motion picture you’ll come across.

Director Gina Prince-Bythewood, whose only claim to fame was the egregiously overrated Love and Basketball (2000), lacks any and all requisite skill or talent to tackle a film of this nature. It is stunning to think that this movie had a $70 million budget and yet at best looks like a flimsy Sci-Fi channel throwaway movie and more often than not looks and feels like amateur hour at the local cable access station.

The action sequences are dull, derivative and repetitive. The visuals are stale and flat. The character development and performances are insipidly vapid. Oh…and the story is utterly imbecilic…just completely nonsensical and idiotic. But beyond that it I guess it was ok.

One mystery I have yet to figure out is why the film has two cinematographers in its credits. Barry Ackroyd and Tami Reiker are both listed in the credits, but having two DP’s is a surefire recipe for disaster. One can’t help but wonder if one of them started the film and was replaced. Ackroyd is a serious guy, having received an Oscar nomination and winning a BAFTA for The Hurt Locker. Reiker is much less accomplished, but the notion that Ackroyd was potentially mentoring her doesn’t hold water as she has been working in the industry for over twenty years. Regardless of why there are two cinematographers, the bottom line is that whoever shot this movie ought to be ashamed of themselves.

As for the directing, you might think that since Prince-Bythewood is not good at action sequences she might at least be good at drawing solid performances from her cast. You’d be wrong.

Make no mistake, Charlize Theron is a terrific actress and a potent action movie presence, but in The Old Guard she not only looks terrible but lacks any dynamism or magnetism at all. I understood what she was trying to do with her character - create a deeply wounded soul battered by the slings and arrows of such an egregiously long life without end, but she is so poorly photographed and directed she ends up being nothing but dour, shallow and unconscionably boring.

Kiki Layne, last seen giving an uneven performance in the equally uneven If Beale Street Could Talk, plays a new member of the Immortals gang and is embarrassingly lackluster and awkward. The wooden Layne is woefully miscast as she is painfully uncomfortable with the action sequences and seems unable to even remotely connect with the dialogue or drama of the less physically demanding scenes.

Both Matthias Shoenaerts and Chiwetel Ejiofor are two enormous talents wasted as their characters are so poorly written as to be incoherent.

And finally, Harry Melling gives a dinner theatre murder-mystery level performance as the bad guy from big pharma. Good Lord, all Melling was missing was a mustache to twist as he laughed maniacally.

What is frustrating to me is that the plot of The Old Guard could potentially be turned into an interesting cinematic venture, but Netflix handed to keys to what they thought might be a new signature franchise to Prince-Bythewood and she (and Reiker/Ackroyd) proceeded to fill the gas tank with maple syrup and paint the interior with raw sewage. The car may still be able to run after this…but it’s gonna need a lot of work before that can ever happen.

In conclusion, The Old Guard isn’t just a missed opportunity, it is a cinema abomination. Only movie masochists need ever glimpse a second of this dreadful film. If you want to see Charlize Theron in all her action movie glory, skip The Old Guard and go watch Mad Max: Fury Road. You’ll be glad you did.

©2020

The Vast of Night: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 3.75 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. A well directed film that starts slow but once it gets going is well worth the wait.

The Vast of Night, written and directed by Andrew Patterson, is the science fiction story of two teenagers, Fay and Everett, and the very strange night they experience in New Mexico in the 1950’s. The film stars Sierra McCormick (Fay) and Jake Horowitz (Everett).

I had not heard of The Vast of Night until my podcast co-host Barry told me to give it a watch. I had no expectations and even less information about the movie before I watched it on Amazon Prime streaming…but boy am I glad I did watch, as it is a little gem of a movie.

To be clear, The Vast of Night isn’t going to change your life, and it isn’t a perfect movie…but it is an exceedingly well made one that highlights a confident filmmaker with a distinct vision and the skill to pull it off.

The movie is set in a small town in 1950’s New Mexico and perfectly captures the rhythm and pace of that time and place. One of the struggles of the film is that the pace of the first half hour is very deliberate, and that may be off-putting to some viewers conditioned on the more frenetic style of modern day entertainment. I would recommend viewers who feel this way stick with the movie…it ends up being worth it.

Speaking of the modern day, the movie is very effective in re-creating the sense of community but also the palpable isolation of the 1950’s, particularly in a rural area, due to the lack of technology. Patterson plays up this dearth of technology by having Fay work the switchboard in town and preferring to run from place to place rather than drive. She also reads science magazines with predictions of the future’s technology (where is my flying car by the way?) and has an acute interest in tape recorders - which seem horrifyingly primitive to us iPhone addicted fiends but that were marvels in their time.

Part of what makes the The Vast of Night so compelling is that it is visually so striking. It is absolutely stunning that this film was made for $700,000, as it looks like it has a budget a hundred times that.

They used a small town in Texas to shoot the film and it is just the perfect set, and the costumes and the props are equally fantastic as every detail in the film is deliciously specific.

The film also looks more expensive because of the clever and courageous Andrew Patterson uses complex camera movements and extended scenes that are remarkably well-done. In multiple sequences Patterson does extended and elaborately choreographed camera movements that cover vast swaths of ground and large numbers of actors and movement. It is really something to behold, and anybody who has ever worked on a movie will appreciate the extraordinary technical difficulty of what Patterson pulls off.

Patterson also extracts outstanding performances from his cast of unknowns.

Sierra McCormick in particular is outstanding as the switch board operator Fay, who is plugged into the town and maybe the truth. McCormick has some extended scenes where it is just her in a close up talking on the phone…and they are mesmerizing. She is able to perfectly embody the clash between the innocence of 1950’s youth and the burden of adult responsibility thrust upon her.

Jake Horowitz plays Everett, the hot shot radio guy, and does terrific work as well. There is one scene in particular, which I won’t give away, where he enters the scene with one distinct expectation and then you watch him transform as his expectation is met, yet he is left unsatisfied. It is a stunning scene to watch and he is complex work in it is outstanding in it (you’ll know the scene when you see it).

Gail Cronauer has a small, but pivotal, role and she is utterly magnificent. Cronauer (and Patterson) make the wise choice to embrace a centered stillness in her scene, and she fills this stillness with a vibrancy and dynamic inner life that is palpable.

At times this movie felt like a gloriously bizarre amalgamation of The Last Picture Show, a Robert Altman movie and a Twilight Zone episode. That cinematic stew was mostly well executed, but there were a few minor bumps. For instance, the Altman-esque scenes of overlapping dialogue were done with aplomb but the dialogue in them was not as technically crisp (in part due to Horowitz having a cigarette in his mouth) as it needed to be and thus was a bit muddled. Also, The Twilight Zone part of the this cinematic science fiction concoction was a storytelling device that Patterson uses throughout, that frankly I felt didn’t work particularly well and could have been eliminated entirely.

That criticism though is just splitting hairs, as once the movie got rolling it was entirely engrossing and really a joy to behold as Patterson uses multiple savvy maneuvers to wring as much tension, suspense and drama out of his story as possible.

Andrew Patterson is obviously a director to watch, and could very well be the next big thing. If he can pull off what is essentially a stage play, in such a visually intricate and dynamic way with such a tiny budget, then goodness knows what he can do when Hollywood opens the coffers for him.

One can’t help but worry though that he will get sucked into the Hollywood machine and end up swimming up stream in a river of shit on some big budget Jurassic World sequel or something, where the studio suffocates his creativity while filling his pockets.

My hope is that Patterson will, like Darren Aronofsky before him, turn his small budget success into a mildly larger budget, with bigger names, for a film that still speaks to his vision. Aronofsky followed up his indie hit Pi, with Requiem for a Dream. Requiem for a Dream wasn’t a box office smash, but it was a cinematic statement that cemented Aronofsky’s status as an artistically powerful filmmaker who told original stories in a unique way. I hope Andrew Patterson is a similar type of creative force with an equal amount of artistic integrity.

In conclusion, The Vast of Night was a glorious little cinematic surprise to stumble upon in these dark days of retreads and repeats. The movie is not perfect, and its slow opening pace may feel impenetrable to those not accustomed to it, but it is well worth the wait if you can stick with it. If you are desperate to escape the suffocating madness of our current moment and want to go to a seemingly simpler time that wasn’t quite as simple as we think it was…then you should escape to 1950’s New Mexico via the delightfully intriguing The Vast of Night.

©2020

Hamilton: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!1 THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Recommendation: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT/SEE IT. Might be worth seeing just to get it out of your system, but truly, it is not worth the two hours and forty minutes.

Hamilton, written by Lin Manuel Miranda and directed by Thomas Kail, is a live recording of a 2016 performance of the stage musical of the same name. The show tells the story of Alexander Hamilton, one of America’s founding fathers, and stars Lin Manuel Miranda in the lead role, with supporting turns from Leslie Odom Jr., Renee Elise Goldsberry, Phillipa Soo, Daveed Diggs and Jonathon Groff among many others.

Hamilton hit Broadway back in 2015 and was met with universal adoration, which included eleven Tony Awards, including Best Musical, Best Book and Best Original Score and a Pulitzer Prize for Drama. The mainstream media fawned all over the show and deified its creator and star, Lin Manuel Miranda, to a striking degree…he even won a MacArthur Grant for his alleged genius. Similar to Rent, which debuted twenty years before it, Hamilton became an unabashed pop culture phenomenon and was the hottest, and priciest, ticket in any town in which it appeared.

I think the slavish adoration of Hamilton (and Miranda) by the media was a function of their aggressive affection for President Obama…as the show, with its diverse cast and devout optimism in America and its ideals, is a sort of a theatrical manifestation of Obama-ism.

The establishment’s instantaneous exalting of Hamilton was stunning to behold and raised very serious propaganda red flags for me. For that reason, and the fact that tickets were exorbitantly expensive and exclusive, I have never seen the musical on stage.

I was curious to check Hamilton out though when, thanks to Mickey Mouse shelling out a record $75 million to Mr. Miranda for the privilege of showing his work, it premiered on the Disney Plus streaming service.

In my appraisal of the show, let’s start with the good first.

Among the cast the highlights begin with Tony winner Renee Elyse Goldsberry…who absolutely crushes her songs with a vocal dexterity, ferocity and power. Even though she plays Angelica Schuyler, a somewhat secondary character in the bigger picture of things, Ms. Goldsberry is the beating, and at times bleeding, heart of the show.

Tony winner Daveed Diggs plays Lafayette and Thomas Jefferson and delivers with a palpable charisma, comedic sense and charm that lights up the stage whenever he’s on it.

Okieriete Onaodowan plays Hercules Mulligan and James Madison and brings a subtly powerful presence and striking rap style to his role, which could easily have been lost in the shuffle in the hands of a lesser actor.

Christopher Jackson’s robust voice and dramatic skills animate the role of George Washington and in the second half he nearly steals the whole damn show.

And finally, Jonathon Groff actually does steal the show in the minimal role of King George. Groff may very well be the best singer in this ridiculously talented bunch, and he belts out his songs “You’ll Be Back/What Comes Next?I Know Him” with such a delirious vigor and aplomb that it is simply intoxicating. (Groff is also excellent in Netflix’s Mindhunter!)

Now for the bad news.

By far the biggest problem with Hamilton is that the show is populated by a plethora of very talented people…but its lead, Lin Manuel Miranda, is definitely not one of them.

A musical simply cannot be worthwhile if its lead is uncharismatic, a dreadful singer, an embarrassment as a rapper and a truly atrocious actor.

I cannot tell you how shocking it was for me to behold Miranda’s severe limitations as a performer after having heard for four straight years that he was a once-in-a-generation genius. Miranda really is a stark naked emperor and it seems no one wants to admit that obvious but uncomfortable truth.

Let’s start with his singing. It is always going to be a problem when the lead of a musical can’t sing, and so it is with Miranda and Hamilton. Miranda has an extremely limited vocal range, and his voice is…and I am being extremely generous here…weak and pedestrian. The fact that Miranda is surrounded by a cast of ridiculously talented singers only accentuates his vocal impotence.

Hamilton’s big claim to fame is that it is, in its own way, a hip-hop musical, so maybe you’d think Miranda’s numerous short comings as a singer wouldn’t be that big of a deal…you’d be dead wrong. Miranda’s rapping is, unbelievably, even worse than his singing. Miranda raps with a whiny, nasally voice and comes across like a nerdy history teacher trying to be “hip” for the young people in his classroom. Watching him rap is like watching a grandparent dirty dance at a wedding…it is just a viscerally uncomfortable embarrassment.

Add to this the fact that Alexander Hamilton is supposed to be this dude that the ladies adore, and yet he is played by the ultra-anti-masculine, doughy dullard Miranda. Whenever one of the female characters are professing their love or attraction for Hamilton it made me cringe.

The funniest thing of all was in the second half of the play watching Miranda try and cover his really abysmal singing by pretending to act. Miranda repeatedly forced a fake cry in order to disguise the glaring weakness of his flaccid voice. What made this so amusing is that Miranda is just a staggeringly terrible actor…I mean he is pulling some junior high school drama class level stuff on stage.

I couldn’t help but think of Christopher Guest’s fantastic 1996 comedy Waiting for Guffman while watching Hamilton. In that film the brilliant Christopher Guest plays Corky St. Clair…the writer/director and eventual star of a play he puts on in Blaine, Missouri.

Go watch Waiting for Guffman to see Corky’s dance moves, and his stunning duet, A Penny For Your Thoughts, and you’ll see Lin Manuel Miranda in Hamilton in a nutshell.

Despite Corky being hysterically untalented, he is still adored by the rural rubes who don’t know any better. Lin Manuel Miranda is the Corky St. Clair of Broadway.

Of course, the media, like the know-nothings in Blaine, give Miranda a pass for his weakness as a performer because they think he is some sort of musical theatre genius. I obviously disagree. But even if that is true, the bigger problem to me is that the only reason Miranda stars in the play is due to his obviously over-sized ego. Even Miranda fans must admit that there are hundreds (if not thousands) of Broadway performers who could do a better job in Hamilton than he did. Hell there are a handful in this actual production who could do the part better than him…like Leslie Odom Jr.…or Daveed Diggs…or Anthony Ramos…or Christopher Jackson and on and on.

Also, in terms of Miranda’s ego…Steven Sondheim and Andrew Lloyd Weber didn’t star in their musicals…so what kind of ego must Miranda have to think he needs to star in his, especially when he lacks the requisite skills to pull it off?

In regards to the music in the show…well…there is not a single memorable song to be found in Hamilton despite the fact that there are numerous performers giving memorable renditions of the material. Not one. Part of that, but not all of it, can be written off to the use of rap, which is an art form that generally does not age even remotely well. (Here is another comedy that I thought of while watching Hamilton - The Simpsons Planet of the Apes Musical, which uses rap music about as effectively as Hamilton…so Lin Manuel Miranda is both Corky St. Clair AND Troy McClure!)

As for Miranda’s creative genius…I don’t get it. I mean, I guess it is clever to adapt Ron Chernow’s book Alexander Hamilton into a musical…but it feels like he just put history to rhymes. Does that rise to the level of amazing? Count me unimpressed.

So basically, everything wrong with Hamilton falls on Miranda’s shoulders and boils down to an egotistical, self-reverential and underwhelming songwriter trying to carry a pop-music/rap musical despite being an insipid and abysmal performer.

But besides that…how was the play Mrs. Lincoln? (See I can use historical references too! Where’s my MacArthur Grant!)

Hamilton has been praised for its color conscious casting…in other words, its decision to cast of actors of color in the roles of white people of history. This is obviously a grand symbolic gesture…but of what? Diversity? Sure. Inclusion? Ok. But this soft gesture of inclusion and diversity, which won over rich, white, Obama-ite neo-liberals, also has a shadow to it, as the only white actors with prominent roles in the show play the villains, King George and the cowardly and incompetent Charles Lee. Both King George and Lee aren’t just villainous, but also clownishly effeminate…much in contrast to the actors of color surrounding them who are robustly masculine. One can’t help but conclude from the evidence presented that Hamilton is not only pro-diversity and inclusion, but insidiously anti-white, particularly anti-white masculinity (not to mention that no white woman at all appears in any roles but the ensemble).

Hamilton has not aged well in its five years of existence, and as previously mentioned that could be a function of using rap and popular music as its backbone. This is heightened by the fact that even politically the show has gone from darling to doubted among the media, which now has seconds thoughts about Hamilton, which is likely a result of the media’s succumbing to the cult of wokeism.

You see, it is difficult to cheer the tearing down of statues of Washington and Jefferson for being slave owners, and then celebrate them in a musical even if they are played by black actors. In this way, Hamilton is, like Obama himself, painfully outdated for the era of rabid social justice and, ironically, Black Lives Matter.

Also outdated is the notion of celebrating the founding fathers and their accomplishments which include quaint ideas such as freedom of speech, which were radical in their day and have, incredibly, become radical once again in our own. In the era of cancel culture, BLM and SJW’s, free speech is anathema, and the founding fathers are criminals to be posthumously punished, not heroes to be celebrated and humanized.

After sitting through the seemingly endless two hour and forty minute run time my conclusion is this…I found Hamilton to be little more than Sesame Street social studies for rich, self-loathing white neo-liberals who want to bask in the warmth of their own self-righteousness and self-deluded coolness. It is a sterile, vanilla, Disney-fied piece of dramatic preening that poses at intellectual depth but is as shallow as a kiddie pool.

In terms of its cinematic worthiness, the staging of the play does seem impressive in a sort of “wow the drama club did a really nice job this year” sort of way, but it, like nearly every stageplay ever photographed, does not translate well to film.

The bottom line is this, I am glad I finally got see Hamilton if for no other reason than I now know I do not need to see Hamilton. I am also glad that I never got suckered into the Hamilton hype and got fleeced for a ticket, and instead only had to pay $4.99 for my Disney Plus subscription to find out that the show is a glittering piece of musical theatre fool’s gold. For all the folks who fell for its alleged, in the moment, 2016 charms…the joke is on them, as history once again has the last laugh.

©2020

365 Days: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Holy shit this is a bad movie. It deserves zero stars on the merits, but I gave it one star because it has a pretty naked lady in it…and it goes against every fiber of my being to give a pretty naked lady zero stars…so on principle alone I refuse to do it.

Language: English, Italian (subtitled) and Polish (subtitled)

365 Days, directed by Barbara Bialowas and Tomasz Mandes, is the steamy saga of the unorthodox relationship between mob boss Massimo and Laura, the Polish woman who captures his attention. The film stars Michele Morrone as Massimo and Anna-Maria Sieklucka as Laura.

Watching movies for a living can be a strange experience. Sometimes you are tasked with watching a movie that you would never in a million years consider watching on your own accord. Thus was the case with 365 Days…a Polish erotic romance movie that has been among the most popular on Netflix since it was added to the service in June.

I knew next to nothing about 365 Days before I watched it except that it was “controversial” because of its explicit sex scenes which may or may not be endorsing rape. As someone who can appreciate sexually explicit material in a film, I fall closer to pervert than prude when it comes to this sort of thing, I was intrigued to see what the kerfluffle was all about.

Then I saw the movie.

Jesus Titty Fucking Christ.

This thing is a cinematic abomination. Just absurdly, abysmally atrocious.

Imagine a Twilight Zone episode where you are stuck in an incoherent Italian fashion advertisement that is placed deep inside a Penthouse magazine which has been thrown into a hot dumpster filled with week old egg salad, all accompanied by a pop music holocaust of a soundtrack…and you can scratch the surface of what it is like to endure 365 Days.

The plot of this film is so ludicrous that I actually had to restart the movie to make sure I wasn’t missing something. Sadly, I wasn’t…but the filmmakers definitely were. I won’t even try and explain what the plot is as I think I would actually do irreparable harm to my self by attempting to do so.

Character development was not exactly a top priority for the filmmakers either as the only thing I learned about the characters throughout the movie is that Massimo aggressively enjoys receiving oral sex…I mean he REALLY, REALLY enjoys it…and that Laura is prettier as a brunette than a blonde.

The film is basically an exercise in watching two impossibly beautiful people in various stages of undress engage in sexual simulation. There are worse things to capture on film I suppose. But the sex scenes are so ridiculous as to be laughable. The big sex scene takes place, predictably enough, on a giant yacht, and it is so off the charts on the unintentional comedy scale that it easily outdoes Tommy Wiseau’s unintentional comedy classic The Room.

Between the soft core Skinemax level porn scenes, the movie sprinkles in some other porn…like capitalism porn. There are so many derivative shopping montages where Laura tries on sexy outfits in front of mirrors at luxury shops that I literally lost count…and I was not going to go back and re-watch to keep a tally.

Of course, after trying on clothes, there are the montages of her security guards following her from shop to shop, burly arms filled with bags of high end merchandise. Oh…there is also this really clever montage of two gay guys giving Laura a make-over! So many montages!!

Matching the repeated shopping montages are the numerous scenes of Massimo angrily grabbing Laura and demanding satisfaction and Laura, in turn, being sexy and defiant toward him. These two types of scenes, shopping and faux fighting, are repetitiously repeated repetitively in a redundant fashion…over and over and over again.

The movie also has other scenes…like the erotic scene in a night club, the erotic scene in a different nightclub, the erotic scene at a formal ball and the erotic scene on a private jet…among many other erotic scenes in erotic locations. In case you were wondering, yes there is a lot of eroticism in the movie as it is very erotic and filled with erotic things that are highly eroticized in an erotic fashion. So erotic!

The film is not buoyed by great performances either. While both Morrone and Sieklucka are easy on the eyes, English is not their strong suit…and neither is acting. They aren’t helped by the Gouda level of cheese that is the dialogue either. Yikes! Beaucoup stinky.

It isn’t just the dialogue that smells, as the script is so dramatically, cinematically, emotionally and sexually baffling it actually made my head ache.

The film also boasts the worst soundtrack in recent cinematic history. The soundtrack is filled to the brim with one pop music disaster after another and is so cloying and saccharine it actually gave me multiple cavities.

As for the the bottom line of the film…its titillation factor…well…I guess that is an individual thing. For me the movie seemed to be an escapist fantasy geared toward horny middle-aged women (which are definitely my favorite category of horny woman!). Since I am not a horny middle-aged woman, the sex appeal of it all escaped me entirely. Of course, your mileage may vary.

On the bright side, Anna-Maria Sieklucka really is gorgeous. I also assume from the success of the movie that women and gay men are big fans of Michele Morrone…so at least there is that.

In conclusion, watching two hours of 365 Days felt longer than spending 365 actual days in a cardboard box in a remote storage facility. Unless you are being held hostage and are literally forced to watch this movie, I recommend you skip it. Even if you are in a hostage situation, you may very well be better off decapitating yourself, lighting your detached head on firer and then throwing it into the ocean rather than watching this steaming pile of stylized excrement. Except, of course, if you’re a super horny middle-aged woman…then you should definitely check it out and unabashedly embrace your guilty pleasure.

©2020

Man of Steel: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Monotonous

Superman is a great American myth and archetype.  It is ripe for a quality re-telling of the story, just as Christopher Nolan re-told the Batman myth with his iconic Dark Knight films.  I was hoping Man of Steel, directed by Zack Snyder and written by David Goyer, was going to be to Superman as Dark Knight was to Batman.  Alas, 'twas not to be. 

Let me say, the collection of actors in this film is a pretty impressive list. Russell Crowe, Amy Adams, Kevin Costner, Michael Shannon, Diane Lane and Laurence Fishburne have 11 acting Oscar nominations between them.  The failure of the film is not the fault of these actors.

Henry Cavill plays Superman and is perfectly cast.  He is impossibly handsome and is as ripped as you'd expect a Superman to be.  I first saw Cavill on the Showtime TV show The Tudors.  He is a fine actor with a subtle charm and dynamic presence, so I hope he doesn't get tainted by the stink of Man of Steel.  He has the makings of a movie star, but this is a bad film to kick off his climb to the top.  Henry Cavill is not the problem with Man of Steel.

As for the film itself, I won't go into the painful details, so no need for a spoiler alert, the only spoiler alert would be that the film is a steaming pile of excrement atop a flaming pile of even more excrement.  The main quality of the film is that it is relentlessly LOUD, for no other reason that I can gather except to make sure you don't fall asleep from it's suffocating monotony.  The story is at best incoherent and at its worst schizophrenic.

My best guess as to why the film is so awful, is that the director Zack Snyder wanted to make one film, the studio wanted to make another film and the producer wanted to make a yet another film.  I can only hope that none of them wanted to make THIS film.

In conclusion, this film is a wasted opportunity.  A great collection of acting talent along with an iconic character and storyline were not enough to make Man of Steel even remotely entertaining or interesting.  Superman Returns was an even more horrible Superman film from 2006, followed seven years later by the atrocious Man of Steel, so if history is any guide we won't have to wait very long for another horrendous Superman film.

The bottom line is that Man of Steel is more like Man of Steal…Audiences Money.

If you at the studios have any interest in making another Superman film, I ask that you please contact me.  I have a lot of ideas which may or may not be any good, but lucky for me lack of good ideas has never stopped you from making a Superman film before.  You have my number and my rates are reasonable....for now. 

©2013