Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100 Part Two - Popular Streaming Platform Recommendations

On the conclusion of our 100th episode celebration, Barry and I finish up our streaming service  film/tv recommendations. Topics discussed include the wonders of the Criterion Channel, the god-awful shit that is Peacock, and how HBO Max was better before it became Max. Oh...and a flock of geese gets slaughtered on air for no apparent reason. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100 Part Two

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100!! Recommendations for Movies and Shows Currently Available on Streaming Services - Part One

On this very special episode, Barry and I host a massive party at LCFM headquarters to celebrate our 100th episode. In part one of this historic podcasting event, we not only name drop our bevy of celebrity friends, but also give our selections for good movies and shows to watch currently available on each streaming service. Stay tuned for part two of this blockbuster celebratory event in the coming days.

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 100!! Top Movies and Shows Currently Available on Streaming Services

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Barry (HBO): Final Season Review - Lights Out for Glorious Dark Comedy

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

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: WATCH IT. This very dark comedy which features stellar writing, acting directing and action sequences, is as good, and as weird, as it gets.

Last week was a big one at HBO. The true crime miniseries Love and Death starring Elizabeth Olsen concluded, the prestige TV king-of-the-moment Succession unveiled its much-anticipated series finale, and the sterling streaming service HBO Max was tossed into the trash heap of history and replaced by the god-awful garbage streaming service Max. What a week! Oh…and lost amongst all that the best TV comedy series of the 21st Century and maybe the darkest comedy of all-time, Barry, came to its conclusion after four stellar seasons.

Barry, which is created by and stars Bill Hader, aired its finale on HBO right after Succession’s finale, and thus no one is talking about it which I think is a shame because while I thoroughly enjoyed Succession, I think Barry is at the very least its comedy equivalent, if not better.

If you haven’t watched Barry – and I know a lot of you haven’t, you really should. And I will make this series/season review totally spoiler free in order to encourage you to take the Barry plunge.

Barry tells the tale of Barry Berkman (Bill Hader), a former Marine war veteran who post-war works as an assassin. Barry finds himself in Los Angeles and ultimately ends up in an acting class taught by the esteemed Gene Cousineau (Henry Winkler). Barry gets the acting bug and tries to juggle his newfound emotional growth fueled by Cousineau’s acting classes with his rather cold-blooded occupation of killer-for-hire.

Seasons one and two of Barry were spectacular as they masterfully eviscerated the world of acting, acting classes, acting teachers and Hollywood. As someone who navigated all of those horribly inane things in real life, I found Barry to be not just insanely funny but astonishingly insightful.

Season three was a major shift for Barry as the series became much more surreal and existential. This shift at first was confusing and off-putting, but once it took hold (or I took hold of it) it elevated the show to extraordinary heights, morphing it from being an insightful comedy to a deeply and darkly profound one.

What made Barry such a remarkable viewing experience was that in addition to fantastic filmmaking, exquisite action sequences, great writing and even greater acting, every major character had a distinct and compelling dramatic arc that played out in completely unpredictable ways.

For example, Barry went from being a compliant soldier and cold-blooded killer to grappling with his conscience, his past, his mortality and God. Monroe Fuches, Barry’s murder-for-hire handler, went to hell and back and came out a considerably different man. Gene Cousineau, Barry’s self-absorbed acting teacher, went on an absurd roller coaster ride and ended up where he always wanted to be but not how he expected to be there. Barry’s self-absorbed girlfriend Sally went on a tumultuous journey but could never escape from her true, awful self. Chechen gangster NoHo Hank went from being a throwaway punchline to being a heartbreaking Shakespearean dramatic figure.

These captivating characters arcs were elevated by truly stunning performances across the board. In the first two seasons in particular, Henry Winkler as Gene Cousineau was as good as anyone has ever been in a television comedy. Winkler’s Cousineau was every acting teacher I’ve ever had…part Jesus Christ, part John Wayne Gacy, part Hitler, part Richard Simmons, part Mao and all arrogant, egotistical, insecure asshole, and Winkler’s singular, relentless brilliance made him must see tv.

Stephen Root as Fuches was incredible across all four seasons but was utterly sublime in season four. Root brought an extraordinary yet subtle sensitivity to this seemingly obtuse role and it was an absolute joy to behold.

Anthony Carrigan as NoHo Hank went from giving hysterical line readings in the first few seasons to giving a deeply-felt and moving turn as a broken man in season four.

Sarah Goldberg was fantastic as the narcissistic Sally from the get go but in season four she allowed the character’s narcissism to devour her from the inside out. Goldberg’s work in this series was really and truly special.

All of the acting in this series was top-notch. Obviously, Bill Hader was brilliant as the endearing sociopath Barry and carried the series in his subdued and subtle way from start to finish. But even actors in small roles rose to the occasion on Barry, like the fantastic and often under-appreciated Eddie Alfano, who was superb in a supporting role as a thoughtful but dim-witted tough guy in season four.

The final season of Barry is more akin to the existentially soaked sur-reality of season three than the more straight-forward comedy of seasons one and two. Season four, like season three, is filled with much psychological symbolism and often feels like a bizarre dream.

The threat not just of death but of divine judgement hovers over season four like a funnel cloud looking for the perfect place to touch ground. All the characters feel like ghosts haunting their own lives or like dream characters unable to wake from a recurring nightmare.

This may not sound like a fun comedy to you, and in some ways, it isn’t fun despite being funny, but make no mistake, it is a comedy, an extremely dark comedy, just not like any we’ve seen before.

Barry’s finale episode was as gloriously weird as everything that preceded it, and ultimately, and this is no spoiler, you could argue that no one ended up the “winner” in Barry…except, of course, the viewer.

But I must say that I felt the finale did stumble in its final sequence. Again, I won’t give anything away, but for a series that was so exquisitely profound for its first 31 ¾ episodes, the final sequence of the series was impossibly, almost irrevocably, trite.

The ending sequence felt so beneath the philosophical profundity of everything that came before it that it felt like either a lame joke or a cheap cop out. An ending that disappointing and unsatisfying can make you question an entire series in hindsight. While I feel strongly about that sequence’s failure, I don’t feel that strongly about it, and can see the wider point Hader was trying to make…notice I didn’t say “deeper point”, but that wider point was too banal and cliched and well beneath the standard that the great Bill Hader had set with his groundbreaking series.

So, yes, I was disappointed with how Barry ended, but I wasn’t on the whole I wasn’t disappointed with season four or the series overall. To me, Barry is the best comedy series HBO has ever produced. Veep is a close second, but I felt Veep stumbled in its final season more substantially way than Barry did in its final sequence. Since I am discussing the greatest HBO comedies of all-time I know people will ask so let me be very clear, I am not a Curb Your Enthusiasm guy in any way, shape or form. I simply cannot get through a single episode of that shitty show. I just don’t understand the appeal of Larry David in the least as I find him not only actively unfunny but aggressively repulsive.

In conclusion, Barry’s final season is a strange and surreal one but is both very funny and deeply profound despite missing the mark with the last sequence in the last episode.

If you haven’t watched Barry or you bailed on during the weirdness of season three, my recommendation is to go back and watch it all from start to finish. It isn’t what you think it is and isn’t what you expect, which is why it is so worthwhile.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Succession (HBO): Final Season Review - All's Well That Ends Well...Enough

****THIS ARTICLE CONTAINS SOME SEASON 4 SPOILERS!!! THIS IS NOT A SPOILER FREE ARTICLE!!****

Season 4 Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Overall Series Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: WATCH IT. Great acting and great writing make for some great TV.

Succession is dead. Long live Succession.

The HBO prestige drama about the dysfunctional Roy family and its mega-media empire had its season four and series finale last night.

For its four seasons Succession has been a glorious dramatic feast served in an era where both film and television have consistently fed us mostly middling, mind-numbing, middlebrow mush.

Watching patriarch Logan (Brian Cox) and his ne’er-do-well offspring Kendall, Shiv and Roman run roughshod over America and its culture was insidiously entertaining but also bone chilling because of its unnerving similarity to the real-world.

The Roys are part Murdoch (Fox), part Redstone (Viacom/CBS/Paramount), part Cox (Cox Communications) and part Roberts (Comcast), and like them all, entirely awful.

Despite being a toxic brew of capitalism porn and media mogul soap opera, Succession never failed to be a joy to behold and the reason for that is two-fold.

First, the acting was superb across the board. Secondly, the dialogue brought to life by these actors was razor sharp and never failed to be anything but modern-day Shakespeare.

That all said, season four was the weakest of the Succession seasons. It wasn’t terrible at all, in fact, it featured the greatest episode not only of the series (episode 3) but of any series in recent memory. But it felt like season four was less dramatically and narratively crisp as the seasons that preceded it.

Part of the issue with season four was that it didn’t earn much of the drama it tried to use. For example, the political election storyline felt trite and shallow because the stakes of the election were not sufficiently developed, and then when they were upon us felt artificially heightened…much like our own real elections.

The same was true for the climax of the finale. Without giving too much away, there is a confrontation between the siblings at a crucial moment that rang surprisingly hollow and underwhelming because it just seemed forced and manufactured, which is not something that happened throughout the run of the series.

This crucial confrontation needed more lead time in order to be more developed and more believable. Unfortunately, the lack of believability around this confrontation undercut the dramatic momentum of the episode, season and series.

Season four was also hamstrung by killing off its most compelling character, Logan, early in the season. Logan was the center of the Succession universe and while it was amusing watching the Roy children try and fill the gaping void left in his absence, it was never quite as profound as when Logan was sitting atop the throne.

Speaking of King Lear…oops…I mean Logan, Brian Cox was absolutely phenomenal in this series. Cox’s Shakespearean speechifying was as good as it gets and has ever gotten in television. Cox’s Logan was a combustible and curmudgeonly king and we should all bow down to his combativeness.

Kieran Culkin as Roman Roy was also spectacular. Watching Roman go full Fredo…and you never go full Fredo, in the final season was extraordinary. Culkin’s ability to bring Roman’s self-loathing and searing, rapier wit to life with such skill and verve was among the show’s highlights.

Sarah Snook’s oh so human, desperate and transparently wounded Shiv was a consistent pleasure to watch as she was Lady MacBeth, Goneril and Gertrude (Hamlet’s mother) all rolled in to one.

Jeremy Strong was outstanding as Kendall, the broken boy who would be king but can’t get out of his own way. Strong’s unrelenting commitment to the vacuous and vacant Kendall was impressive.

In season four, Alexander Skarsgard was exquisite as Swedish tech guru Lukas Mattson. Skarsgard was so great in season four as the GoJo CEO he basically took over the show with his quirky, nerd guy darkness.

But of all the great actors on Succession, nobody tops Matthew Macfadyen who played Shiv’s pain sponge, sycophant husband Tom Wambsgans. Tom reeked of shameless ambition and sweaty desperation but never succumbed to self-pity, only to self-interest.

Tom’s whipping boy, cousin Greg, played by Nicholas Braun, yearned to be part of the amoral and incompetent Roy sibling “quad” and would do anything to make it happen or to make anything happen for himself. Braun was outstanding as he stole scenes and episodes with his priceless line readings and his character’s insecure maneuvering and backdoor bravado.

I suppose the reason why, despite its faults and despite having watched the finale on the new, annoyingly glitchy, streaming service Max (fuck you, Max!), I liked Succession so much was that it accurately spoke to our current time and current predicament.  

Watching a Shakespearean-esque dramatization of the ruling elite and ownership class of America, filled with an endless supply of second and third-rate fucktard, mid-wit nepo-babies devoid of balls but ravenous for power, who surround themselves with sycophantic psychopaths whose only ambition is to hold onto their own tiny, Mordor adjacent fiefdoms, was as entertaining as it was unnerving because this is exactly how empires, like America, fail and fall.

For instance, anyone who is even remotely aware can see that America’s ruling class are a decidedly spent force. For God’s sake we are on our way to having another election between fourth-rate, incompetent shitstains Joe Biden and Donald Trump. In a country of over 350 million people, it is impossible that we must choose between a compulsively lying, narcissistic, dementia-addled, pedophile politician and a bloated, incoherent, shameless, compulsively lying, nepo-brat, failure.

Of course, the truth is we only have a choice between these two asshats because we don’t actually have any choice…only the illusion of choice. Succession makes it clear that the decision between who rules and who is ruled is not a decision at all…it’s simply theatre, meant to entertain and distract while the Logan Roys and Lukas Mattsons – the ruling elites of the world, sit on high and pull all the strings.

It was great fun while it lasted, but Succession, like America’s global empire and the dollar’s dominance, is over…and frankly…it needed to be over. Succession needed to end because it ran out of runway for its drama and the American empire needed to end because it, like all empires before it, has grown much too decadent and depraved whilst wearing the crown to survive.

America will no doubt deeply miss its empirical power when it’s gone because if Succession has taught us anything it’s that while being in power is a cold, barren, miserable, sterile, lonely, painful existence, life without power is much, much worse.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Love and Death (HBO) - Miniseries Review: Trite True Crime Deep in the Heart of Texas

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

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Despite a great cast this is just another true crime retread with a prestige tv veneer.

The HBO miniseries Love and Death, which stars Elizabeth Olsen and Jesse Plemons and tells the true story of an extra-marital affair and murder in the small town of Wylie, Texas in 1980, finished its seven-episode run on Thursday.

The series, which was written by David E. Kelley, recounts the salacious tale of Candy Montgomery, a mild-mannered Texas housewife and church choir member who has an affair with a fellow married church member Allan Gore. Months after the affair ends Allan’s wife Betty is found brutally murdered with an axe.

Despite the fact that this is apparently a well-known tale and has already been made into a Hulu miniseries (Candy – starring Jessica Biel – which I have not seen), I did not know the Candy Montgomery story prior to watching Love and Death and so I won’t recount it in detail here for you in order to preserve spoilers for any of you who are in the same boat as I am.

The verdict regarding Love and Death is that it’s little more than a true-crime, Lifetime movie with an HBO prestige veneer and some top-notch acting.

Elizabeth Olsen is particularly good as Candy, as she masterfully captures the performative nature of a certain breed of Southern woman. Candy’s mask is so effective it even fools Candy into thinking she’s not who she really is.

As evidenced by her breakout role in Martha, Marcy, Mae, Marlene (2011), Olsen is a terrific actress but her career seems to be a bit stuck at the moment after getting caught in the MCU cul-de-sac. Her performances in the MCU films as Scarlet Witch have not been notable, but her work in the MCU TV series Wandavision was magnificent for the intriguing first half of that flawed season.

One can only hope that Olsen has put the MCU in the rearview mirror and now that she’s financially secure can explore more interesting projects and roles. Love and Death may have been her attempt at doing that, but unfortunately the series never lives up to her stellar work in it.

Jesse Plemons is also very good as the subdued and rather odd character Allan Gore, who sports a hairdo that is a first ballot Hellacious Haircut Hall of Famer.

Plemons is a master at filling quiet characters with a peculiar and pulsating inner life, and his Allan, who we are told has a “perfectly formed penis” – good for him, is bustling just under the surface and behind those curiously dead eyes but is always assiduously contained and constrained.

Plemons is one of the more oddly compelling actors of his generation and it’s always a treat when he’s on screen, even here in the tepid Love and Death, but he deserves better than this series.

Tom Pelphrey, who recently made a name for himself in the Netflix show Ozark, is terrific in the under-written role of the passionate and combative lawyer Don Crowder. After reading the post script at the end of the series I have to say that Crowder’s life seems to be much more interesting post Love and Death than it is during this story, and would prefer to have seen that tale told.

And finally, Lily Rabe does the very best she can with the unfinished character Betty Gore, and she too deserved much better than what was written for her.

As good as the cast is across the board, the problem with Love and Death is without a doubt the overrated writer David E. Kelley, who simply never elevates the story or makes it more than just another recounting of a true crime in a culture awash in true crime.

Kelley is considered one of the untouchables in Hollywood but I’ve never understood his appeal. Doogie Howser, Picket Fences, Chicago Hope, The Practice, Boston Legal, Ally McBeal and Big Little Lies are his most famous series and they’re all egregiously awful to the point of being entirely unwatchable. I’ve never liked a single one of his shows and never understood why others fawn all over him.

The failure of Love and Death lies at the feet of Kelley, who across his career has seemed allergic to insight and addicted to disingenuousness. Kelley’s consistent vacuousness as a writer and his vapidity as a storyteller infects Love and Death and leaves it completely devoid of profundity and power.

Love and Death reminded me of another true crime story given the HBO prestige treatment last year, The Staircase. That series, which starred Colin Firth and Toni Collette, was intriguing on its salacious surface but once you dig in to it there was nothing there…as it was devoid of even an ounce of drama or insight.

Like The Staircase, Love and Death is underwhelming as the longer the series went on the less interesting it became until finally you only finish watching it out of a demented sense of obligation or in my case, completion OCD.

Ultimately, Love and Death plays acts at being meaningful but is a rather vacant exercise in true crime exploitation and failed titillation. If you haven’t watched the series then trust me when I tell you that you never need to start. And if you have watched it then I assume, like me, you either regret the time committed or have entirely forgotten it.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Adventures in Idiocy - Thoughts on Dylan Mulvaney, Max and Monty Python

PUTRID PANTHER PISS

Yet another front in the never-ending culture war was opened in early April of this year when Bud Light decided to hire “transgender influencer” Dylan Mulvaney to be a “spokesperson” for their shitty beer brand.

To celebrate Mulvaney’s year anniversary of his “days of girlhood” Tik Tok series – which documented the travails of his first year of “girlhood” - which miraculously included the pain of menstrual cramps (or in this case minstrel cramps) despite his not having a uterus, Bud Light put his ridiculous face on beer cans.

The reaction from Bud Light drinkers to having trans Tinkerbell Dylan Mulvaney thrust upon them was entirely predictable to everyone with half a brain in their head, which obviously excludes the decision makers at Bud Light.

The people who drink Bud Light, or used to drink Bud Light, are mostly men, mostly working class and all have bad taste. Like most men, they have no interest in Dylan Mulvaney, trans issues, or the culture war. They just want to be left alone to drink beer, hang out with buddies and watch sports while they wait to for their life to come to an end.

Bud Light used to be the beer they’d consider drinking – I don’t drink but only God knows why anyone would drink that putrid panther piss…but to each his own, but now Bud Light is definitely off the table. The reason for this is simple…men love to bust each other’s balls…and now any guy drinking Bud Light gives his buddies endless ammunition to bust his balls into oblivion.

A guy brings Bud Light to a party or orders one at the bar and he will be serenaded with a cavalcade of humorously vicious insults questioning his sexuality, his gender and the state of his genitals. You may think that is cruel or barbaric or transphobic, but no one gives a flying fuck because it is, above all else, undeniably true.

The sales for Bud Light since Mulvaney became their spokesperson prove that the brand is now toxic among its core customers. For nearly two months since this all began Bud Light sales have plummeted in comparison to last year’s weekly sales averages…consistently down between 25% and 30% a week.

And this drop in sales is not going to just disappear because the stink left on the Bud Light brand from Mulvaney’s odious presence is going to last for a long time. Once a brand becomes a punchline it is nearly impossible to reverse.

What is baffling to me is how could the suits at Bud Light be so ignorant of their target audience and so blind to cultural reality? To say this is corporate malfeasance is a massive understatement.

As for Dylan Mulvaney, he is an adult and should do as he pleases with his own body…his transgenderism is his business (literally and figuratively), I just wish he wouldn’t be so craven as exploit himself or allow himself to be exploited by corporate entities…but unfortunately it seems the mentally ill Mulvaney is more interested in attention than anything else.

Mulvaney was what we call a theatre muffin (musical theatre actor) prior to becoming an “influencer”. Disingenuous, narcissistic, hyper-performative, annoyingly flamboyant gay men like Dylan Mulvaney are a dime a dozen in the theatre world. So Mulvaney seems to have decided to distinguish himself from the glamour boy hoi polloi by dressing up like a woman and saying he was trans. How clever.

His plan has worked remarkably well, as he’s made tons of money, gotten famous and even went to the Oval Office to talk to President Biden about Women’s issues…yes…you read that right….a man went to the White House as an expert on Women’s issues. Ultimately, Mulvaney strikes me as a rather repugnant culture war creature who during his shameless drive for fame has done more to denigrate women in the past year than most any other public figure.

One can only hope that Bud Light, Dylan Mulvaney and the shitheads at Anheuser-Busch all disappear and right quick because the world desperately needs none of them.

As for Bud Light, it has successfully destroyed decades of branding and is now radioactive amongst its core customers. Congratulations…there is no coming back from that.

MAX

Speaking of corporate marketing malfeasance, the geniuses over at the corporate behemoth Warner Bros. Discovery unveiled their new streaming service this week and it stands as a monument to their moronity.

Warner Bros. Discovery owns the streaming services HBO Max and Discovery +. HBO Max is of course known for its prestige TV shows, like The Sopranos, The Wire, Game of Thrones and Succession, and for its deep library of films, which include the Harry Potter, DC Comics I.P. as well as Turner Movie Classics and a bevy of other great films.

Discovery + is known for its reality TV empire which includes all the shows from Discovery Channel, Animal Planet, TLC, HGTV, Food Network, Travel, Investigation Discovery and CNN.

The suits at Warner Bros. Discovery, led by their brainless and toothless shark of a CEO, David Zaslav, decided to combine these two streaming services into one giant streaming service.

When naming the new streaming service, they decided to forego the well-established, prestige brand of HBO which has been arduously built over the lasty forty years. And they also decided to ignore the less prestigious but still very recognizable brand of Discovery.

Instead Zaslov and co. decided to name their big new streaming service…MAX.

The first thing that comes to mind with the name MAX is the low rent cable channel Cinemax, which is derogatorily called Skinemax because of its penchant for showing soft core porn in the wee hours of the night.

The second thing that comes to mind is MAXipad…or maybe MAXimum-security prison…or maybe for those old to remember, MAX Headroom.

HBO has become such a strong brand associated with prestige over the last 40 years that even when its shows aren’t that great, they are treated with great respect by the culture. For example, 2021’s Mare of Easttown starring Kate Winslet was shit, but the media and audiences treated it like some great work of art simply because it was on HBO.

And that’s the thing…HBO signaled prestige to both viewers AND talent…which is why great actors, writers and directors would be willing to make the jump to TV only if it was HBO.

Now with MAX…not so prestigious. Now if you’re a movie star you think twice before doing a series there because it’ll be lumped in with 90 Day Fiance and Dr. Pimple Popper.

That Warner Bros. Discovery could fuck up the naming of their gigantic streaming service this badly should be shocking…but it isn’t. Zaslav and his predecessors have been able to fuck up lots of things – like their DC films, over the years.

It should also come as no surprise that Warner Bros Discovery completely fucked up the actual Max streaming site. HBO Max was the easily best streaming service site to navigate and it wasn’t even close. It had easy to access hubs to all of the valuable sections of their library like Turner Classics, DC and Studio Ghibli which made navigation a breeze. The new Max site has idiotically eliminated that glorious convenience and replaced it with a haphazard, shit-thrown-against-the-wall incoherence that is frustrating, irritating and aggravating.

The Max site is a jumbled, muddled mess. It doesn’t even have a hub solely dedicated to the Discovery material which means, much like every other useless streaming service site, browsing is fruitless and you can’t really find anything unless you specifically type it into the search bar. Moronic. I hate it so much and I hate that the ease and perfection of HBO Max is gone.

The bottom-line is don’t be surprised if Warner Bros Discovery renames MAX (and hopefully does a full reboot and rebuild) in the next 3 years…and don’t be surprised if incompetent jackass Zaslav is out of a job…and don’t’ be surprised if the company sells off major portions of its entertainment business either.

THE LIFE OF BRIAN…AND LORETTA

And finally…three years ago this July I wrote a verbosely titled article “The Monty Python Classic 'The Life of Brian' Relentlessly Mocked Christianity Forty Years Ago, Comedy Needs to Do the Same Thing to the Church of Wokeness Today” in which I celebrated the film The Life of Brian for having transformed from being banned for blasphemy upon its release to being rated as acceptable for kids today.

I also praised the film for having masterfully mocking the old religion, Christianity, and for having the foresight to eviscerate the new religion, transgenderism, too, forty years ahead of time.

The mocking of the new woke religion occurs in a scene set in the coliseum of Jerusalem where the People’s Front of Judea meet to discuss their goals. One of the members, Stan – played by Eric Idle, declares he wants to be a woman and that it is his right as a man to have people call him Loretta.

Here is the scene which is absolutely, astonishingly brilliant from start to finish.

When Stan keeps interjecting feminine pronouns into the proposed language…he is asked by Francis why he keeps bringing up women?

Stan -  “I want to be one….I want to be a woman….from now on I want you all to call me Loretta…It’s my right as a man.”

Judith – “Why would you want to be Loretta, Stan?

Stan – “I want to have babies…It’s every man’s right to have babies if he wants.”

Reg - “You can’t have babies!”

Stan - “Don’t oppress me!”

Reg - “I’m not oppressing you Stan, you haven’t got a womb! Where’s the fetus gonna gestate? You gonna keep it in a box?”

After some hemming and hawing, Francis chimes in with a solution.

Francis (to Stan) - “We shall fight our oppressors for your right to have a baby, brother…ooops…sister, sorry.”

Reg - “What’s the point of fighting for his right to have babies if he can’t have babies?”

Francis – “It’s symbolic of our struggle against oppression!”

Reg – “It’s symbolic of his struggle against reality.”

I wrote of the film and this scene that,

“The Office, Community, 30 Rock, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Scrubs and Fawlty Towers, among others, have all had episodes scrubbed from streaming services for their past politically incorrect sins. Let us pray to our Lord and Savior Brian and his Sacred Shoe and Holy Gourd, that Monty Python’s glorious canon is not next on the cancel culture crucifixion list.”

Well…just today I saw that John Cleese, one of the founding members of Monty Python, is staging a theatrical production of The Life of Brian, and he is being forced to cut the “Loretta” scene from the show.

Cleese said of the Loretta scene being cut,

“So here you have something there's never been a complaint about in 40 years, that I've heard of, and now all of a sudden we can't do it because it'll offend people. What is one supposed to make of that? But I think there were a lot of things that were actually, in some strange way, predictive of what was actually going to happen later."

Yes, Cleese and co. predicted the absurdity of transgenderism forty years before it became a state religion, and I predicted the knives of the Cancel Culture Centurions and Tiny Twitter Torquemadas coming out for the The Life of Brian three years before it happened. Prophets both of us.

As the good book says (Mark 6:4), “no prophet is without honor except in his native place, among his own kindred, relatives and in his own house.”

And that is why my prescient Monty Python article, and most everything else I’ve written, could only be widely published at a Russian media outlet RT.com, and not here in the U.S. of A. where the Truth is anathema and people only want to read things that comfort, rather than confront, their vapid, vacuous and vacant belief systems built on disinformation, misinformation, propaganda and emotionalism. It's also why my wife left me, my dog bit me and my family disowned me.

As for Bud Light, MAX and Monty Python, these stories of misjudgments and massive failures are all just symptoms of a depraved decadence brought about by the broader disease of an empire in rapid decline.

Think this is bad? Trust me…things are going to get much, much worse…just watch and see.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

White Men Can't Jump (Hulu): A Review - A Flagrant and Fragrant Foul of a Basketball Movie

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

My Rating: 1.25 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. This rotten remake has no redeeming value or reason to exist.

Back in the old, dilapidated, smoke and championship banner filled Boston Garden, the dynastic Boston Celtics of Bill Russell, John Havlicek, Dave Cowens and Larry Bird had the greatest of home court advantages because the famed parquet floor on which they played had numerous dead spots. These dead spots would greatly reduce or eliminate the bounce of the ball thus making dribbling a much less automatic action. The Celtics took great advantage of this court abnormality by funneling unsuspecting opponents to dribble into the dead spots and thus either turn the ball over or slow their attack.

The Celtics made the unwise decision to move out of the charming, rat-infested old Boston Garden in 1995 and left their dead spot parquet advantage, and their mystical, magical, luck of the Irish mojo, behind. Their new home, the corporate, cold mausoleum known as TD Garden, has no such advantageous anomalies, and in turn has only produced just one Celtic championship banner in its near thirty-year existence…a stark contrast to the 16 championship banners the team won during their 48 years playing at the old Garden.

Which brings us to the new White Men Can’t Jump movie which premiered on Friday on the streaming service Hulu. The film, a remake of the 1992 Ron Shelton basketball comedy, reminded me of the old Boston Garden not because it is worthy of championship banners, but because it is so riddled with dead spots it has no bounce to it at all.  

The film, which follows the trials and tribulations of two basketball has-beens, Kamal and Jeremy, desperate for one last touch of hoops glory, is written by Kenya Barris, directed by something called Calmatic, and stars Sinqua Walls and rapper Jack Harlow. The end result of this third-rate group of moviemaking wannabes is a vacant, vapid and hollow shadow of the 1992 version which starred Wesley Snipes, Woody Harrelson and Rosie Perez.

To be clear I am not one of those people who is repulsed by this new film because I adored the original. The truth is I hated the original White Men Can’t Jump. The main reason for that was that Woody Harrelson and Wesley Snipes were embarrassingly bad at basketball. They couldn’t even remotely fake being able to play…and as someone who did play and who was a huge fan of the sport, I found that a hurdle much too great to overcome.

The good news is that this new version features marginally better, but still not great, basketball, but that doesn’t overcome the astounding lack of chemistry and the charisma deficiency of the two lead actors, Sinqua Walls and Jack Harlow.

Snipes and Harrelson lacked basketball ability, but what they didn’t lack was chemistry and charisma. Walls and Harlow on the other hand can somewhat simulate playing the game but have all the spark of two bodies lying next to each other in refrigerated drawers at the morgue.

Harlow, who if you don’t know is a famous rapper – and yes, I still find the notion of white rappers to be just as cringey as you do, need not worry about quitting his day job and heading to Hollywood to be the next white Will Smith, as God knows the black one is already white enough.

Walls at least played basketball in college at the University of San Francisco – where Bill Russell won two NCAA championships before leading the Celtics to 11 NBA titles…but unfortunately for Walls and for us, he is no Bill Russell on the basketball court or Wesley Snipes in front of the camera. He is a rather dull, one-dimensional actor devoid of any compelling inner life and his basketball ability is not what I would describe as aesthetically pleasing.

To be fair to Walls and Harlow, the script they have to work with is a scattershot piece of garbage. Walls’ character Kamal has a dark past and an odd relationship with his father, but none of these things are adequately fleshed out and are thus rendered annoying and unsatisfying to the viewer.

Harlow’s character Jeremy struggles with serious drug addiction but that battle never takes shape or is given any narrative energy and ends up just being ignored instead of dramatically exploited.

The two men’s personal lives, which feature the love interests Imani (Kamal’s wife - played by Teyana Taylor) and Tatiana (Jeremy’s girlfriend played by Laura Harrier), also fall decidedly flat.

Kamal and Imani’s marriage has all the familiarity of two people passing each other in a bus station. Jeremy and Tatiana’s relationship could be dramatically promising due to it being inter-racial and Jeremy’s drug addiction, but none of those topics are ever explored.

The director of this dud is Calmatic, a commercial director whose only other major film credit is the 2023 remake of the 1990 movie House Party. If you were unaware that the new House Party was released this past January then that makes two of us. Calmatic has no idea how to tell a story or how to elicit coherent and compelling performances from his cast and thus has no business directing films.

The bottom line is that the new White Men Can’t Jump is an instantly forgettable, meaningless, lifeless, purposeless exercise in nothingness. I’d say the film is a brick or an airball but the reality is that this movie soiled itself in the locker room and never even made it out to the court to take a shot.

If you really want to laugh while watching some basketball drama featuring bad acting, skip White Men Can’t Jump and tune in to the NBA playoffs starring the King of the Receding Hairline LeBron James as he shamelessly flops all over the court.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 99 - Air

On this episode, Barry and I don our Air Jordans and go one-on-one to discuss Air, the corporate tale of Nike's rise to basketball dominance directed by Ben Affleck and starring Matt Damon now streaming on Amazon. Topics discussed include Affleck's directing ability, Damon's viability as a movie star, and the lost art of masterful movies made for grown-ups. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 99 - Air

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 98 - Ghosted

On this episode, Barry and I display zero chemistry as we go globetrotting on a spy adventure searching for answers about the new Apple TV+ movie Ghosted, starring Ana de Armas and Chris Evans. Topics discussed include really bad movies, really bad movie stars, really bad streaming services and really bad decisions by streaming services. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 98 - Ghosted

Thanks for listening!

©2023

Champions: A Review & Impassioned Commentary

IF YOU LIKE DIATRIBES ABOUT THE DEHUMANIZATION OF THE INTELLECTUALLY DISABLED, BLACK LIVES MATTER, POLICE BRUTALITY AND ABORTION IN REVIEWS OF MINDLESS FILM COMEDIES…THEN THIS ARTICLE IS DEFINITELY FOR YOU!

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A mind-numbingly pedestrian affair that is devoid of genuine laughs and feels uncomfortably exploitative.

Champions, starring Woody Harrelson, is a sports comedy that tells the story of a disgraced minor league basketball coach who does his court ordered community service as the coach of a team of intellectually disabled basketball players.

The film, directed by Bobby Farrelly of the famed Farrelly brothers (There’s Something About Mary, Dumb and Dumber, Kingpin) in his first solo outing, hit theatres mid-March and is now available on the Peacock streaming service.

Champions, which is a remake of the 2018 Spanish film of the same name, is a bit of a befuddling movie. It is ostensibly meant to be a redemption story for Harrelson’s character, coach Marcus Marokovich, but he never actually redeems himself because he never reveals himself to be so much of a deplorable as to need redeeming.

Sure, Marokovich initially embarrasses himself during a minor league basketball game and it becomes a humiliating moment heightened in our endlessly nasty media culture, but he never seems like a bad guy, just like a guy having a bad day. So Marokovich doesn’t have far to travel on his journey to redemption and thus the story doesn’t go anywhere or mean very much.

To be fair, there is a sort of love story mixed into the mess involving the always charming Kaitlin Olsen as Alex, a sister of one of the intellectually disabled basketball players on Marokovich’s team, but that is more a redemption story for Alex, not for Marokovich.

Part of the problem from the get-go is that Woody Harrelson is simply a very nice guy and has nice guy energy on-screen for the full two-hours. I also assume that this is why Harrelson, due to his niceness, didn’t bring more abrasive energy to his character’s initial interaction with the intellectually disabled basketball players. Yes, there’s a brief moment prior to meeting them where he almost uses the “R-word” (retard) but even then he catches himself because Marokovich/Harrelson is a nice, sensitive person. That’s a great way to be in life but not so great when trying to generate a worthwhile character arc, drama or even laughs.

Speaking of which, the intellectually disabled players in the movie are notably played by actors with intellectual disabilities. My feelings on this are decidedly mixed.

First off, it’s great that intellectually disabled actors are getting work, as I assume that isn’t the easiest thing to do due to the nature of typecasting. Secondly, these actors all do their job well without exception, most notably Kevin Iannucci as Johnny, Joshua Felder as Darius, and Madison Tevlin as Cosentino.

That said, regardless of whatever good intentions may have been present, there is a part of me that feels this movie is exploiting these intellectually disabled actors. My reason for feeling this way is that none of the characters they portray are anything but props, used to generate some cheap laughs or even cheaper sentimentality. The audience is never expected to relate to the intellectually disabled characters, only in how the “normal” characters navigate those who are intellectually disabled.

For example, we never spend a single second alone with any of the intellectually disabled characters. We never get a glimpse of their inner lives, their hopes, their dreams or their fears and they are only identifiable by their unique disabilities and how they “hilariously” manifest.

The intellectually disabled players are all broad stereotypes. There’s the one guy who talks endlessly about all the sex he has…which is supposed to be funny because he’s intellectually disabled. Then there’s the bossy diva girl who is bossy and a diva and it’s supposed to be funny because she’s intellectually disabled. Then there’s the guy who only shoots with his back to the basket which is supposed to be funny because he’s intellectually disabled…and on and on and on.

The Farrelly’s have done this type of thing with intellectually disabled people throughout their filmmaking careers, and to be clear I have no doubt that it is at least in part motivated by good intentions, but that doesn‘t mean that it can’t be uncomfortably exploitative.

The reason it all feels so exploitative is because we are solely meant to either pity these characters or laugh at them. They aren’t real people because they aren’t designed to be real people, they’re only designed to be pets to their intellectually-abled creators.

There’s also an incredibly uncomfortable shadow looming over this self-congratulatory exercise regarding the intellectually disabled that becomes painfully obvious if you look for it. Namely that the denizens of Hollywood who would cheer this movie’s diversity and inclusion also overwhelmingly believe that its cast not only could have, but should have, been aborted prior to birth.

This is not to argue in favor or against abortion, just to point out that 67% of pregnancies diagnosed with Down’s Syndrome are aborted. In Europe the number is even higher at 90%. Abortion as a treatment for Down’s Syndrome pregnancies is so rampant that the medical establishment doesn’t just expect it, they almost demand it.

The argument for why Down’s Syndrome babies should be aborted is made painfully clear whenever debated, namely that it is an alleged act of mercy to eliminate a Down’s Syndrome pregnancy because life with Down’s Syndrome is so difficult. It is no doubt true that life with Down’s Syndrome is more difficult, for not only the sufferer but for those that care for them, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t a worthwhile life filled with meaning and purpose for all involved.

That Champions fails to see the intellectually disabled as anything other than props or pets to “normal” people fuels the notion that the lives of the intellectually disabled are somehow beneath us and not worthy of serious consideration.

In 2013, I wrote an article about Ethan Saylor, a young man with Down’s Syndrome who was killed by Maryland police in January of 2013. Ethan’s crime was that, being a big fan of the police and military, he went to see the movie Zero Dark Thirty. He liked the movie so much he didn’t want to leave the theatre when it ended and didn’t understand he needed to buy another ticket for a second screening. The police were called and they tackled him to the ground and kneeled on his back and neck until he died.

Ethan Saylor’s killers were never charged with any crime. They were never paraded across the front pages of America’s newspapers or television screens and chastised for their depraved inhumanity. Instead, they simply went on living their lives, just like the rest of the country, as if Ethan Saylor had never existed.

When George Floyd was murdered in 2020 by Minnesota police in much the same way Ethan Saylor was murdered by Maryland police in 2013, amidst all the ensuing media coverage of the “mostly-peaceful” riots and protests, I kept hearing the refrain that “all lives can’t matter until black lives matter!”

I believe that all lives can’t matter until black lives matter, and I also believe that black lives can’t matter until Ethan Saylor’s life matters and until all intellectually disabled people’s lives matter in utero and out. The fact that the media, your government and, frankly, most of you – who either have a blue lives matter or black lives matter signs in your window, have never said a word of protest, or given a single flying fuck about Ethan Saylor and people like him, says everything about this country and the demonic depravity at the absolute heart of it.

Ethan Saylor’s life mattered. Intellectually disabled people’s lives matter…BEFORE and after their birth. Until we as a nation and a culture come to not only understand but embrace this unnecessarily radical notion, we will fail to be anything more than a demented, decadent, depraved and diabolical Fourth Reich.

As for Champions, despite the misguided good intentions of everyone involved, deep in its DNA it retains an insidious superiority complex regarding intellectually disabled people. That this pity-inducing superiority complex is so ingrained in our country and culture means that most people won’t even notice it. What they will notice though is that this instantly forgettable movie, regardless of its notions about the intellectually disabled, isn’t funny, interesting or remotely entertaining.

Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

 ©2023

Cocaine Bear: A Review - This Unfunny Bear Shits in the Woods and on Itself

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A golden opportunity for comedy is wasted in this poorly directed, dull movie. Not even remotely amusing.

Cocaine Bear is definitely a great title for a movie, but unfortunately is not a great movie.

The horror comedy, which originally hit theatres on February 24th and is now streaming on Peacock, is loosely based on a true story about a black bear that goes berserk after ingesting 34 kilograms of cocaine that was thrown from a drug runner’s plane into the Tennessee wilds in 1985.

Cocaine Bear, directed by Elizabeth Banks, should have been terrific as all the elements are there for a cavalcade of comedy. The absurdity of a bear high on cocaine in the heartland of America at the height of the Reagan-led War on Drugs in the always bizarre 1980’s is a comedy goldmine. And yet, the film is a flaccid affair that never embraces the 80’s comedy, the bear comedy, the drug comedy, or any other form of comedy for that matter.

Instead of focusing on a man vs nature duel of wits (or mid-wits as the case may be) between a coked-up black bear and some desperate drug dealers or even some over-zealous cops, the movie instead uses a large, unconnected and entirely uninteresting cast to try and tell an unnecessarily sprawling and rather boring tale.

Yes, there are drug dealers, and some park rangers, but there’s also some Icelandic hikers, some kids skipping school, a concerned single mom, some EMTs, a cop and his dog, and another cop taking care of the first cop’s dog, and these characters don’t have any meaningful interaction.

None of these characters are remotely interesting and none of the performances are remotely funny. Some of the performances, like useless nepo baby O’Shea Jackson Jr./Li’l Ice Cube as drug dealer Daveed, are actively awful. Others, like Keri Russell’s single mom Sari, are just boring. Some are heartbreaking…like Ray Liotta as a drug dealer. Liotta is heartbreaking for no other reason than this is his last movie (he died last year) and goddamn it's not fair for Liotta to go out like this.

The biggest issue with Cocaine Bear though is the directing. Elizabeth Banks simply is not even an average director. Banks inability to bring coherence to this story, or to exploit the cavalcade of potential visual gags a bear high on cocaine in the 1980s presents, is a crime against comedy and cinema, and displays a lack of talent, skill and imagination that is astonishing.

Banks is a charming actress but her filmmaking abilities are none existent. Like fellow actress-turned-director Olivia Wilde, Banks has been held up by Hollywood, ever desperate for fashionable female filmmaking talent, as some sort of serious and skilled craftswoman behind the camera.

But Banks’ directing filmography, which consists of a shitty Pitch Perfect sequel and an even shittier remake of Charlie’s Angels, reveals a woman who, like Olivia Wilde, was elevated in Hollywood through a “leg up” diversity program but has absolutely no business helming a major motion picture.

That Banks waits until the end credits of Cocaine Bear to utilize the 1983 song “White Lines (Don’t Do It)” is cinematic malpractice, as is the fact that she never uses Eric Clapton’s “Cocaine” at all.

Banks will get more chances to direct because she’s a woman and Hollywood is stupid, but make no mistake, she has no idea what she’s doing.

Cocaine Bear doesn’t just fail as a comedy, it fails as a horror picture too. The horror aspect of the movie is mostly just gore, and yes there is some of that but none of it is particularly clever or shocking or even interesting. It all feels perfunctory and rather cheap and not in a “this is a fun B Movie” way. It also doesn’t help that the CGI bear used throughout is so abysmal as to be embarrassing.

The most telling thing about how flaccid, unfunny and non-entertaining I found Cocaine Bear is the fact that it only runs 95 minutes but I found myself checking how much time was left in the movie from the 12-minute mark on.

If you were thinking about checking out Cocaine Bear just for shits and giggles in the hopes of finding a crisp comedy to tickle your funny bone…think again. Cocaine Bear is a grin and bear it movie without the grin and with a shitty CGI bear, that will put your sense of humor deep into hibernation. You’d have a considerably better time freebasing cocaine with a bearskin rug than watching this lifeless piece of dreck.

So, to answer the eternal question…does a bear shit in the woods? The answer is “yes”…and the steaming pile it leaves behind is less odious than Cocaine Bear.  

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Ghosted: A Review – Apple TV+ Action Rom-Com Scrapes the Bottom of the Barrel

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

My Rating: ½ out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Don’t even contemplate watching this stupid movie.

Ghosted, which premiered on Apple TV+ this past Friday, is an action rom-com starring Marilyn Monroe and Captain America…oops…I mean Ana de Armas and Chris Evans.

I feel conflicted in labeling the film an action romantic comedy because the action is decidedly derivative and dull, the romance flaccid and the comedy non-existent, but the film identifies itself as an action rom-com so I’m respecting its pronouns, so to speak.

The film does have a plot, although I’m not going to insult your intelligence by trying too hard to recount it as it’s so idiotic as to be insulting. The basics of it are that after a meet cute that isn’t cute, world-traveling woman-of-action Sadie (Ana de Armas) and needy, home body Cole (Chris Evans) have a whirlwind 24-hour romance, which is followed by a globe-hopping, fish-out-of-water, spy/action-adventure. It’s basically a Hallmark Movie with disturbing amounts of killing and some very bad action set pieces.

The film has a run time of 116 minutes that feel like 116 hours because the writing is an abomination, the acting atrocious and the action choreography and execution ridiculous. But besides that, how was the play Mrs. Lincoln…oh…it was so bad that Mr. Lincoln would’ve shot himself in the head if John Wilkes Booth didn’t do him the favor first.

A major issue with Ghosted is that the core of the film is the relationship between Ana de Armas and Chris Evans, and they have absolutely zero chemistry. Although to be fair, this script is such crap that you could’ve put Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn in this sack of shit and still would’ve stunk to high heaven.

De Armas at least has a light in her eyes and is obviously working hard to make the best of a bad situation, but Evans has such dead eyes and does such lifeless line readings the movie feels like a Weekend at Bernie’s reboot with de Armas dragging Evans’ corpse all over the world.

Evans, who made a name for himself playing Captain America in the Marvel movies, is such a buff buffoon one wonders how he got his famed physique while eating so many of his own boogers.

Hollywood has been trying forever to make Evans a movie star but the only thing that worked was the Captain America stuff because Captain America is just as bland as Evans.

Evans’s last two films are the instantaneously forgettable streaming duds Ghosted and The Gray Man, which might be the worst double-feature in the recent history of cinema. One can only hope that in short order some new meat-headed moron would take Evans’ place in Hollywood rolodex of dumb-ass hunks but you never know.

I actually felt bad for Ana de Armas watching this movie. Unlike Evans, she’s not a terrible actress…she’s not a good one either…but she deserves better than this.

It felt like the makers of this movie saw de Armas in the last James Bond movie, where she had a small but scintillating role as a sexy and silly CIA agent, and thought they’d try and replicate that energy. The problem though is that character was pretty paper thin and barely got us through ten minutes of screen time in Bond, so trying to put her on-screen for two hours in Ghosted is beyond a stretch.

Some movie stars and famous Marvel men, like Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, show up in Ghosted in order to inject some life and laughs into the festivities, but not surprisingly that all falls as flat as Chris Evans’ sculpted abs.

The director of Ghosted is Dexter Fletcher, whose previous work includes the Elton John bio-pic Rocketman, which made me think that this movie should’ve starred Elton John and Debbie Harry for some random reason. At least then it would’ve been funny even if unintentionally so.

The writers of the film are Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick, who wrote the Deadpool movies, and Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers, who wrote a bunch of Marvel stuff. Reese and Wernick’s distinctive style is easy to spot in the movie, but with Evans and de Armas spouting it and not Ryan Reynolds, it all feels forced and fails.

Apple TV+ is desperate to be a player in the streaming world, which is sort of amusing since it’s a gigantic tech company but still can’t even develop a barely usable streaming site. Despite some occasional hits like Ted Lasso and Severance, Apple has done little to distinguish itself in the crowded streaming world.

Apple seems to not understand that we aren’t in Old Hollywood or even Hollywood of the 1970s, as their approach seems to be to get stars and put them in shitty movies and people will tune in regardless of quality. As an aside, Netlfix has the same approach except they don’t even use movie stars, they just throw any piece of shit up on their service because they need content.

If Apple wants to become a Hollywood player, and to be honest I don’t really understand why they would want to be, they’re going to have to use their tech bazillions to bully buy somebody else…like Netflix or Disney or God help us HBO Max/Discovery. Because the truth is churning out third-rate garbage like Ghosted with second-rate stars like Ana de Armas and Chris Evans, isn’t gonna move the needle for a fourth-rate streaming site like Apple TV+.

The bottom line is that Ghosted is garbage and wholly deserves to not only be ghosted, but blocked before first contact. Do yourself a favor and don’t even give this pile of shit a single second of your attention.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

The Mandalorian - Season Three Review: This is NOT the Way

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

My Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. A major disappointing season from this once terrific series.

Season one (2019) and two (2020) of The Mandalorian were as good as it gets in terms of Star Wars storytelling. So much so that a dear friend of mine, the biggest Star Wars fan I know, once waxed poetically to me about how the series’ creator Jon Favreau was the savior of the Star Wars franchise.

Whether you believe that about Favreau or not, the truth is that The Mandalorian undoubtedly set the bar very high for the bevy of Star Wars series that came in its wake. Unfortunately, the majority of them have failed to live up to the standard.

For example, the alarmingly awful The Book of Boba Fett and Obi Wan Kenobi fell shamefully short of The Mandalorian’s high standards. Things were so bleak at Mickey Mouse’s money-making machine after the back-to-back egregious embarrassments of Boba Fett and Obi Wan, Disney’s Star Wars television ventures seemed on the precipice of annihilation like Alderaan on the wrong end of a Death Star blast.

Then the top-notch Andor arrived on the scene. Andor was able to equal, and in some ways exceed, season one and two of The Mandalorian’s high storytelling standards and Disney once again felt like the had righted the good ship Star Wars.

But now the roller coaster continues with season three of The Mandalorian, whose eight episodes concluded on Wednesday, which scuttled all the creative and artistic momentum of its previous two stellar seasons and of the superb Andor.  

Unfortunately, season three of The Mandalorian feels more like an extension of the sub-par work of The Book of Boba Fett and Obi Wan Kenobi than a continuation of the excellence of seasons one and two of The Mandalorian.

Season three is an exceedingly frustrating, irritating, incoherent, dull, lore-desecrating exercise that besmirches the once mighty legacy of The Mandalorian brand, reducing it to just another Star Wars piece of junk in a galaxy quickly filling up with Star Wars junk.

The storyline of season three lacks immediacy and consistency, and instead feels like writers/producers trying to sell Star Wars toys while they kill time waiting for other series, most likely the forthcoming Ahsoka, to carry the Star Wars narrative load.

The (spoiler-free) loose premise of the season is that Din Djarin (Pedro Pascal) and his de facto adopted son Grogu – aka Baby Yoda, join with Bo-Katan Kryze (Katee Sakchoff) to try and return to Mandalore.

The premise never compels, and the villain (I won’t say who it is to avoid spoilers), once revealed, feels like a creative cul-de-sac that is repetitive and redundant and redundantly repetitive.

The series featured the worst episode (episode six – which contains cameos by Lizzo and Jack Black – God help us!!) in the history of Star Wars tv which is an astonishing accomplishment considering the staggering level of incompetence of The Book of Boba Fett and Obi Wan Kenobi.

The season finale, while not a great finale, was an action-packed episode and was, to a point, entertaining, but it didn’t elevate the series or make it make sense.

As much as I enjoyed some of the action at times in the finale it was also ridiculous to the point of shameful, and it stretched Star Wars lore and the established rules of the series and the Star Wars universe beyond recognition.

For example, earlier in the season Mandalorians chasing a giant monster had to stop because their jet packs ran out of fuel after roughly a half mile. But in the finale, Mandalorians were flying thousands of miles and breaking through the atmosphere of a planet and into space with ease using their jetpacks.

Another example is that in the finale the villain/villains have great powers (I’m doing my best to avoid spoilers) and yet they end up being like every other dopey background actor stormtrooper who gets felled with ease by the good guys.

The biggest problem with season three though is that it felt like it was no longer about The Mandalorian but rather about the WOmandalorian. Female warrior queen Bo-Katan Kryze became the focus of the drama and the hero who continuously kept saving the damsel-in-distress Din Djarin from peril.

Making things worse was that Katee Sakchoff, an actress I loved on Battlestar Galactica, was dreadful as Bo-Katan. In season two Din Djarin worked with a bad-ass woman warrior Cara Dune, played by Gina Carano. Dune was really cool and Carano was great in the role, but then she said something on social media about Nazis that made the Nazis at Disney upset so they fired her. The reason I bring this up is because, and I never thought I’d say this in my entire life, but Katee Sackhoff is no Gina Carano, and The Mandalorian season three suffers under her relentlessly weak performance.

Which brings up another issue that is becoming glaring, and that is Disney’s princess problem. What I mean by that is that Disney made its bazillions by telling female-centric stories for girls about princesses. Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella and on and on. The problem is that they’ve purchased Marvel and Star Wars, two brands that tell archetypal stories about boys and men for boys and men.

Instead of embracing what made Marvel and Star Wars successful, Disney has reverted to form and gone about dismantling the male archetypes and replacing them with “princesses” - inadequate and inappropriate female characters.

So, in Marvel we get Thor replaced by Lady Thor, Black Panther replaced by Lady Black Panther, Hawkeye replaced by Lady Hawkeye, Iron Man replaced by Iron Heart aka Lady Iron Man…not to mention the cavalcade of female led-projects like Black Widow, Captain Marvel (who originally was a man in the comics) and now The Marvels. In Star Wars the most obvious example was that the center of the latest trilogy was a female, Rey, while the two previous trilogies focused on Luke and Anakin.

I understand Disney’s insipid impulse to feminize everything and even understand its insidious desire to socially engineer through its products, but what shocks me about this is Disney’s incredible misunderstanding of the basics of myth and archetype.

As Joseph Campbell and Carl Jung teach us, the woman’s hero journey (or heroine journey if you will) is very different from the male hero journey. Different narratives and archetypes are needed and necessary in order to tell the heroine’s journey, but what Disney (and most other modern storytelling) is doing is simply replacing men in the hero’s journey with women.

The reason why these stories, on the whole, fail is because they do not resonate in the collective unconscious due to their mythic and archetypal misunderstandings.

This does not mean that women can’t be leads in action stories…quite the contrary, but they must go on a heroine’s journey not a hero’s journey. Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) in Alien is a perfect example of the heroine’s journey in an action role. Ripley is at her core a feminine mother character (in the first film this – among other reasons - is why the cat is so important – as Ripley must nurture and save it), just like the mother creature she fights.

Another example is Kate Macer (Emily Blunt) from the fantastic 2015 film Sicario. Macer is an FBI agent but she must navigate the brutal world of men all the while knowing that she, as a woman, is more vulnerable than the men she is surrounded by. As much as she wants to be “one of the boys”, she never will be and that is part of her journey…coming to understand the nature of things and the perilous, nearly indecipherable world of men.

While audiences, for social or political reasons, may support these Disney designed female-led hero’s journeys, on a very deep psychological level, they are agitated by them and often repulsed by them and that’s because they are the anti-thesis of our inherent psychological and mythological conditioning.

No doubt there are some who, again for social or political reasons, want to decondition audiences from what they would describe as an archaic view of men and women, but the human psyche and collective conscious and unconscious, don’t work that way as they have been built over thousands of years and don’t bend to whatever is fashionable in the decadent society du jour.

Back in 2015 right after the female-led The Force Awakens hit theatres, I was at a dinner party with a bunch of Angelinos and the movie came up as a topic of conversation. I chimed in and said I didn’t think it was very good and a woman sitting next to me, who was there with her maybe ten-year-old daughter, leaned over and whispered into my ear, “yes, but the message it sends to girls, and to boys about girls, is really important.”

I nearly bled to death biting my tongue in an attempt to avoid a social mis-step. What I wanted to tell this woman was that the privileged life she led, the big L.A. house she lived in with the “I’m With Her” sign in front, and the security of her existence, was built by…men. Many of them ugly, brutish men, who she would despise simply because they were ugly and brutish men. These are the same men who throughout history have eliminated any and all threats to her plush, decadent, million-dollar, echo-chamber existence.

This is the type of woman, a pampered princess, who demands “equality” for women and girls, but when push comes to shove, she only wants the kind of “equality” where she is awarded unquestioned deference and privileges due to her “victim status” as a woman which elevates her above by those deplorable men who intervene to protect her from the vicious darkness of the world.

If this woman lived in Ukraine she would, as did most of the Ukrainian women, leave to go live in other parts of Europe while all the men of fighting age (and well beyond and beneath fighting age) were forced, through force or conscience, to fight, and ended up being slaughtered by the vastly superior Russian military.

This is why Sicario is so impactful, as it shows in the bleakest, bluntest terms, that play-acting as a tough chick won’t cut it in the world of men. Men inherently understand this as we’ve navigated the perils of the brutal world of men our entire lives and know what the real deal is.

Yes, women have been on the receiving end of toxic masculinity…but they’ve also benefitted from men’s sacrifice and masculinity’s ability to protect them in a dangerous world to such a degree that they now feel safe and secure enough to incessantly bitch and moan about how all masculinity is toxic.

That’s a long way of saying that when Bo-Katan saves Din Djarin for like the fifth time in season three on The Mandalorian, it made me laugh at how ridiculous and shameful it was even for a silly, sci-fi series on a corporate streaming service hellbent on promoting a social-political agenda.

It is fitting that Disney now turns its Star Wars hopes to Ahsoka, which hits Disney plus in August and tells the story of the female Jedi who was once the Padawan of Anakin Skywalker. The girl power galaxy strikes again.

As far as The Mandalorian season three goes, it was a major letdown compared to season one and two. The series lost not only its cohesiveness and its competence, but more importantly its purpose and meaning, and there’s no telling if it’ll ever get it back.

Season three of The Mandalorian was so deflating, it left me wondering not only what the future holds for Star Wars, but if it has a future at all.

The cold, hard reality is that The Mandalorian, Star Wars, Marvel, and our entire culture in general, is an utter mess, and it needs to get its balls back and quick if it wants to survive.

As the Mandalorians would say, “This is the way.”

©2023

Air: A Review - Who Knew That Shameless Corporate Ass-Kissing Could Be So Entertaining?

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

My Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. A rare treat of a well-made movie for grown-ups. Not life changing but undeniably entertaining.

Air, the new movie about Nike’s push to sign Michael Jordan to an endorsement deal in 1984, is, to quote Kris Kristofferson, “partly truth, partly fiction, a walking contradiction”.

The film, which is directed by Ben Affleck and stars Affleck as well as his old buddy Matt Damon, is the rarest of rare things in our current culture in that it’s a movie featuring movie stars, made for grown-ups in which everyone involved is exceedingly competent at what they do.

Ben Affleck’s direction, the cast’s performances, first-time screenwriter Alex Convery’s script and Robert Richardson’s cinematography are all, at a bare minimum, competent and often much more than that. For this reason alone, the film is undeniably entertaining.

It’s a testament to Damon and Affleck’s star power, and the professionalism and skill of everyone involved, that even though viewers know how the story ends, Air is still a compelling and captivating story that at times is remarkably exhilarating and even moving.

Matt Damon is terrific as Sonny Vaccaro, the guy leading the charge to get Michael Jordan to sign up with the then basement-dwelling, third ranked basketball sneaker company, Nike.

Damon has always been a top-notch movie star actor, and he brings all his skill to the fore as the lovable loser Vaccaro. Damon is a pleasant and oddly charming screen presence who effortlessly carries this story from start to finish.

Viola Davis, who plays Michael Jordan’s mom Deloris, is outstanding in her supporting role. With minimal screen time Davis imbues Deloris with a silent authority that dominates the drama. Every time she is on-screen, she is subtly the center of the universe. It would be difficult to imagine a scenario where Davis doesn’t get nominated for an Oscar for this performance.

Ben Affleck is very good too as Phil Knight, the very strange founder of Nike. Affleck is fantastic at being unintentionally funny and if Phil Knight is anything it is unintentionally funny.

Affleck’s direction is solid as well. His decision to not make Michael Jordan a major character in the film, and to not show Jordan’s face, were pretty brilliant as the movie could have easily spun out of control and turned into a rather cheap, made-for-tv type of project with a Jordan imitator joining the festivities.

All that said, there are some things about Air that leave a decidedly bad taste in my mouth.

The first of which is that this movie is undeniably a piece of corporate propaganda and hagiography. This isn’t just a film about American capitalism and corporatocracy, it is a celebration of American capitalism and corporatocracy.

The movie bends the truth to some extraordinary degrees in order to pretend it isn’t celebrating the rather deplorable parts of American capitalism and corporatism symbolized by Nike, and to act like it’s actually a tale about the working man fighting against corporate power.

Jordan is made out to be a pioneer who broke the mold regarding shoe contracts by demanding profit sharing and his mother Deloris makes the case that “young black boys will pay a lot for this sneaker and that money should go to my son!” She also says that workers like Vaccaro, and black athletes endorsing sneakers, are exploited by companies like Nike, and Converse and Adidas and they deserve more of the profits.

This is all well and good and is a nice bit of drama for the film, but the fact that Nike pays slave wages to third world workers in order to make their sneakers goes unsaid and unacknowledged. Also unsaid and unacknowledged is the fact that Nike sell their status symbol shoes at exorbitant prices that are so high that in the 80’s and 90’s they often caused crime and violence by young black men against other young black men in order to get them.

In addition, it is also a bit unnerving that Sonny Vaccaro, who is widely considered by many in the know to be one of the sleaziest people from the amateur basketball scene back in the 70’s and 80’s, is made out to be the good-hearted, kind, lovable hero of the movie.

Vaccaro was a shark who was deeply involved in all sorts of shady shit back in the day, and to see him in the film and in the film’s prologue, portrayed as the champion of the good, the noble and the right is a bit much.

There’s an interesting monologue in the film about the Bruce Springsteen song “Born in the USA”, which was enormously popular in 1984. The song, which was co-opted by Reagan as a flag-waving theme song, is actually a lament about the brutal decline of America, but because its morose lyrics are accompanied by the energized music of an uber-patriotic anthem, the song’s meaning gets lost and its artistic power usurped.

It could be that Affleck uses the “Born in the USA” monologue to let astute viewers know that he is trying to hide his critique of the insidious nature of American capitalism and corporatocracy in plain sight in this hagiography. I’d like to think so…but Air feels too weak in its criticisms and too vociferous in its praise of Nike (and all that it represents) to pass that test, and thus feels like just the anthem part of “Born in the USA” without the existential lament at its core.  

The reality is that Air is really a movie about marketing that is itself a piece of marketing. The film, with its fantastic soundtrack of 80’s music, looks and feels like a two-hour commercial for Nike. In this way it is almost an extension of The Last Dance, the ten-hour Michael Jordan docu-series that was so gloriously received by everyone but me back in 2020. That docu-series was shameless legend cultivation and brand buttressing of Michael Jordan and was produced by…you guessed it…Michael Jordan. But our culture is so enamored and addicted to narcissistic self-promotion and propaganda, that no one cared they were being fed a piece of self-serving bullshit.

Speaking of shameless marketing and self-promotion, it is strange that Damon and Affleck are out pounding the pavement selling this movie and pretending this is their first reunion film since their smash hit Good Will Hunting back in 1997, for which they won a Best Original Screenplay Oscar.

Damon and Affleck’s last actual on-screen and writing credit reunion was Ridley Scott’s underrated 2021 film The Last Duel. The Last Duel was overlooked by audiences and snickered at by critics, but I thought it was very good, so to see Damon and Affleck pretend like it doesn’t exist is somewhat bizarre…but makes sense in terms of marketing as the Damon-Affleck reunion card is being played again. As they say, everything old is new again…apparently even on-screen reunions that already happened two-years ago.  

Also a bit odd is the fact that this movie is the first from Damon and Affleck’s production company Artists Equity, which is all about paying workers above and below the line fairly and with equity in the film.

That the narrative of Air somewhat reflects the business model of Artists Equity is clever, as is Affleck talking up how he looked out for first time screenwriter Convery and promised him he’d get full credit despite some rewrites.

But that “looking out for the working man” narrative feels like window dressing when the movie it is placed in is an embarrassing ass-kissing of sweatshop masters Nike made by the deplorable demons at Amazon. I mean…yikes…you’d be hard pressed to find two companies as destructive to working people and our culture as Nike and Amazon. This insidious approach is somewhat reminiscent of the Best Picture winner Nomadland, which told a tale of the working poor on the fringes of society yet disgustingly managed to portray Amazon - which is well-known for its abuse of workers and labor practices, as a friend to the working man and wonderful worker’s paradise.

And yet, despite the rather repulsive pro-corporation politics and economics on display in the movie, Air is an irresistibly entertaining and unrelentingly enjoyable movie, which is a testament to Affleck and Damon’s talent and star power.

In conclusion, Air is in rarified air in that it’s a movie for grown-ups that features movie stars confidently filling up the big screen. I highly recommend it and can guarantee that while it won’t change your life, it will definitely leave you satisfied.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 97 - The Woman King

On this episode, Barry and I don our women warrior garb and do battle over The Woman King, the sword and sandal action movie starring Viola Davis now streaming on Netflix. Topics discussed include the blueprint of successful female-led action movies, the burden and benefits of claiming to be "based on a true story", and the curse of over-hyping sub-mediocrity. 

Looking California and Feeling Minnesota: Episode 97 - The Woman King

Thanks for listening!

©2023

TV Round Up - Thoughts on Succession, The Mandalorian, White Lotus, JK Rowling and more!

I was going through my notes and thought I’d share some thoughts on various tv shows that have come and gone that I failed to properly review. If you are looking for something to watch maybe these mini-reviews will be useful.

I also had some not-so-brief thoughts on some current shows…The Mandalorian and Succession, as well as some observations regarding JK Rowling and a potential HBO Max Harry Potter series. Enjoy!!

White Lotus –

HBO Max

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Recommendation: SKIP IT. Over-rated garbage.

Season Two of White Lotus was all the rage this past fall. It became that show that critics and fans fawn over and that generates all sorts of cultural buzz. I watched season two when it originally aired but didn’t write a review of it for a variety of reasons…one of which is that I greatly disliked it and the thought of writing about it depressed me.

The first season of White Lotus – set in Hawaii, grew on me as it went along but the second season got worse as it went along. I watched season two – set in Sicily, beginning to end in hopes of it improving…but it never did and ended up being nothing but a grating chore.

The things that irritated about this show are too numerous to list in full but here’s a select few of them.  

Jennifer Coolidge, aka Stifler’s mom, seems like a nice person and I suppose it is all well and good that she’s having a career renaissance, but her clueless Tanya character which returns for season two is no longer quirky and amusing but aggressively annoying. Coolidge’s act, which may not be much of an act, wears incredibly thin the more time you spend with her. We all would’ve been better off if she was left behind in Hawaii.

Also annoying is that apparently every hotel manager in the entire world is gay…and in the case of Valentina in Sicily, gay and incredibly boring.

The elaborate plot of season two is so beyond ridiculous as to be absurd. None of the characters are relatable or even remotely likable. I spent the entire series loathing everyone and praying for everyone, especially Audrey Plaza’s Harper, Haley Lu Richardson’s Portia, Michael Imperioli’s Dominic (Imperioli is exposed as an awful actor in this show to a shocking degree) and Adam DiMarco’s repulsive Albie, to all die heinous deaths.

On the bright side…Meghann Fahy delivers the best moment of the entire series in her scene on the beach with her husband’s supposed best friend. Fahy was the lone bright spot in this massively over-hyped and over-rated show.

I’ll never understand why this show became a thing.

Slow Horses –

Apple TV+

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Recommendation: SKIP IT. Series has some charm but never figures out what it wants to be.

Season one of Slow Horses wasn’t much to write home about…Gary Oldman’s hysterical flatulence aside. It was too slow and too fast all at the same time.

Season two starts off with more promise than season one, but it ends up being just as underwhelming.

The show should be a rather small-scale story of bureaucratic intrigue, but it constantly goes for these over-expansive, James Bond-ian scale storylines that just seem rushed, cheap and totally unbelievable.

Oldman is, as usual, great, and the rest of the cast give solid performances, but the writing never lives up to their stellar work.

This is just one of those shows that just can’t figure out what it wants and needs to be…and thus ends up being nothing.

Black Bird –

Apple TV+

Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

Recommendation: SKIP IT. A mess of a mini-series. Incredibly poorly written. Paul Walter Hauser is great as the bad guy and deserved better.

This mini-series, developed by Dennis Lehane based on an alleged true story, is so amateurish as to be astonishing. The writing and casting of this series is so bad it made my stomach hurt.  

Taran Egerton plays a bad guy who agrees to go into prison to get a serial killer to confess. There’s not a single moment where Egerton is believable. Not one.

Sepidah Moafi plays an FBI agent and she is so miscast, and so terrible in the role, I’m surprised my tv didn’t spontaneously explode while watching it.

My old friend Greg Kinnear, one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet, is saddled with an abysmal role as a small-town cop that is never fleshed out or given any logical narrative.

The best thing about the show is Paul Walter Hauser, who is truly great as the twisted serial killer. Hauser is unquestionably one of the very best actors working on the planet right now. I hope he is given opportunities in much better projects going forward.

Bottom line is that this script is atrocious and this show is beyond ridiculous, as it’s a pyramid of inanities upon inanities.

The Mandalorian –

Disney Plus

No rating yet

Thoughts on the first 5…no wait…6 episodes of the 8-episode third season.

Season one and two of The Mandalorian grew on me as they went along and as the series became the flagship of Disney +. But season three has been a very, very bumpy ride over the first five episodes of the eight-episode season.

The drop off from season two to season three has been considerable. Mando now seems to have gone from searching to wandering…and that has sucked much of the drama out of the show. The season three story feels very scattered and unfocused and the execution of that story feels alarmingly cheap and decidedly second-rate. The writing is, unfortunately, just egregiously bad.

Maybe the series can get its mojo back in the three final episodes of this season…but that seems highly unlikely…and The Mandalorian mojo may very well be lost forever.

****Ok…so I wrote the previous paragraphs BEFORE I watched episode six of The Mandalorian. And now I’ve watched episode 6 and…holy fuck…things have changed…and not for the better.

Season 3 episode 6 of The Mandalorian is arguably the very worst Star Wars related event to have occurred in the history of the franchise…which is saying quite a bit. This is the Jar Jar Binks of episodes. This episode is so bad it makes the absolute shit shows that were Obi Wan Kenobi and The Book of Boba Fett seem like passable Star Wars entertainment.

Episode 3 is the most amateurish and cheap piece of garbage imaginable. The script, written by Jon Favreau, is abysmal and embarrassing. The directing, by famed actress Bryce Dallas Howard, is shameful and humiliating. The ignominious cameos in the episode by the rotund non-actress Lizzo, Jack Black and a decrepit Christopher Lloyd, are undeniably mortifying and resolutely cringe.

You’d be hard pressed to find anything anywhere as awful as the diarrhea of cutesy-ness that was Baby Yoda doing a front flip to be by Lizzo’s side…or watching him use the force to help her cheat and win at some stupid space game. Watching Lizzo knight Baby Yoda may have been the lowest point in American pop culture history.

Equally idiotic and incoherent was the story about Christopher Lloyd’s character who is maybe a bad guy or maybe a good guy. The conclusion of that narrative is so trite and throwaway as to be absurd. It’s like a kid playing with Star Wars figurines got called to dinner so they just gave their play session a generic ending and walked away.

The Mandalorian is apparently not about Din Djarin (Mando) and Grogu (Baby Yoda) anymore and instead has turned its flaccid dramatic focus to Bo-Katan Kryze, played by a gaunt and ghastly Katee Sackhoff. Sackhoff, who once upon a time was so good in Battlestar Galactica, is a dullard on The Mandalorian, and the nonsensical narrative turn of her not wearing her Mandalorian helmet has only made things worse as we are forced to see her lifeless eyes.

The bottom line is that Episode 6 was so bad it wasn’t a jumping of the shark, it was a Kessel Run over a trillion space sharks. This show is done. It simply cannot recover from such an egregious episode.

It’s a shame…at one point it seemed like The Mandalorian was going to save Star Wars. Now it seems that The Mandalorian is the final nail in its coffin.

Succession –

HBO Max

No rating yet

Thoughts on the first 2 episodes of the 10-episode fourth and final season

The final season of Succession is here and as enjoyable as it is to marinate in this capitalism porn, the truth is that the producers were very wise to make this the last season. The show, which is two episodes into its ten-episode finale, is well shot, well written and well-acted, but season four does feel like the series narratively repeating itself.

As glorious as it is to watch a dramatization of the palace intrigue amongst the villainous Murdoch/Redstone/Cox clans who run America’s media empires, the show thus far in season four seems to be rehashing the same battles from previous seasons just with characters taking on different roles in the melo-drama.

That said, watching Succession is a pure joy because the writing is so crisp and the performances so committed that it feels like a modern-day version of Shakespeare.  

Brian Cox, Kieran Culkin, Matthew MacFayden, Allen Ruck, Sarah Snook, Jeremy Strong and Nicholas Braun are fantastic as the Roy extended family, and the supporting actors are equally outstanding.

As sad as it will be to see Succession go, season four is showing signs that the story has run its course, so best to enjoy it while it’s here and be glad it’s not going to sully its reputation by dragging on uselessly for another three seasons.

FUTURE HARRY POTTER SERIES

HBO MAX

So, I saw in the news that HBO is maybe going to make a tv series remake of the Harry Potter books, with each of the seven original books getting its own season.

I don’t really care one way or the other about the Harry Potter franchise, be it the books, movies or anything else. But what struck me as I read the stories about this potential series is something that has struck for many years but which I never took the time to write about (that I remember)….namely that every article about the potential new series mentioned that “transphobic” creator JK Rowling would be involved in the show.

What bothers me about this is that JK Rowling being “transphobic” is an opinion, not a fact, and yet it showed up in every news article I read about this series…and in every article I’ve read about JK Rowling in recent years.

Coincidentally, I was helping my young son with his school work the other day and one of the assignments was to place a series of statements into one of two categories, ”fact” or “opinion”.

The statements were things like “there are 8 planets”, which would be considered a fact, and “apples are better than oranges”, which is an opinion. My son being the precocious lad that he is even pushed back against the 8 planets thing saying “that’s only if you don’t count dwarf planets”. Which is true…but in the spirit of the assignment we labelled it a fact since it said “there are 8 planets” not “there are ONLY 8 planets”.

The most intriguing statement in the assignment was “you shouldn’t eat too much candy”. My son’s instinct was to say it was a fact, because it is true that you shouldn’t eat too much candy. But…as we kicked the idea around, we got very philosophical…pondering how much is “too much” and who is the one to decide what is “too much”? “Too much” for me might be “not enough” for you.

We even got Clintonian as we parsed what is “candy”? We can all agree a chocolate bar is candy…but is a caramel apple candy? Are chocolate covered almonds candy? Is bubblegum candy?

The conclusion we came to was that “you shouldn’t eat too much candy” was not a fact but rather an opinion because it lacked specificity and detail and relied upon the subjective and not the objective.

Which brings us to JK Rowling’s alleged transphobia. What bothers me about these articles stating as fact that JK Rowling is transphobic is that opinions greatly differ in regards to Ms. Rowling’s transphobe status.

A journalist writing about Rowling may believe she is transphobic, but that doesn’t make it a fact. There are many people, myself included, who don’t think Rowling is transphobic at all. And just because trans activists label Rowling a transphobe doesn’t make her one.

Any journalist worth a damn should write of Rowling that “some claim she is transphobic” or “trans activists claim Rowling is transphobic” or that “Rowling has made statements some deem transphobic”. This really isn’t that hard.

Hell, when I was working for RT I wrote the term “dementia-addled” while joking about Joe Biden in an opinion piece and the editors very quickly informed me that I wasn’t a doctor and hadn’t examined Biden so I couldn’t diagnose him as having dementia. It was a valid point, so I took the phrase out of the piece despite my believing Joe Biden has dementia and, worst of all, that removing that statement ruined a good joke.

Anyway…I don’t care about the Harry Potter tv series, but I do care that our culture has completely gone off the rails and that journalists at the most prestigious of media outlets lack the critical thinking skills and basic journalistic integrity of a 7-year-old. I have no doubt that the Ivy League educated know-it-all, know-nothings at The New York Times, LA Times, Washington Post and Boston Globe would not hesitate for a moment to declare that “you shouldn’t eat too much candy” is a fact because “the science is settled”. Sigh.

It should also be obvious that the news media plays the same word games with other topics as well…and treats opinions as fact on a daily basis turning journalism into nothing more than insidious, subtle and not-so-subtle activism which only misinforms its audience and diminishes journalism’s credibility.

Alright, thus concludes both my rant about shitty journalism and JK Rowling as well as my not-so-brief TV Round Up.

 FOLLOW ME ON TWITTER: @MPMActingCo

©2023

The Woman King: A Review - Amateurish Action Junk for Women

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

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. Mindless, middlebrow movie devoid of meaningful drama, decent action or historical accuracy.

Sometimes a movie comes along and critics and audiences fawn all over it and then I watch it and wonder what the hell is wrong with these people?

The Woman King, an action movie about the Agojie, a real-life group of female soldiers in 1820’s Dahomey, Africa, is one of those movies.

The film, which stars Viola Davis and is directed Gina Prince-Blythewood, premiered back in September and it was greeted with an impressive 94% critical score and 99% audience score on Rotten Tomatoes. It is now streaming on Netflix and I finally watched it and am utterly baffled by the love it’s received.

The Woman King got some more attention when the Oscar nominations came out because the usual suspects were bitching and moaning that the movie’s star, Viola Davis, was “snubbed”, and that the film’s director Gina Prince-Blythewood was too, both on account of their being black, and in Prince-Blythewood’s case also because she’s a female director. Sigh.

The arguments for The Woman King’s star and director being snubbed by the Oscars are so ridiculous as to be absurd.

For example, many pundits claimed the movie was awards-worthy because it was a “blockbuster” and that should have elevated its Oscar profile. Let’s be as clear as we can about this, The Woman King was not a “blockbuster” by any stretch of the imagination. The film made $94 million on a $50 million budget…which in the Hollywood accounting world means it probably didn’t even break even once you factor in marketing costs.

And let’s be even more real about The Woman King…it isn’t even remotely a good movie. It’s a painfully ordinary, rather silly sword and sandals, middlebrow movie that is burdened with a laughable script, piss poor direction and even worse fight choreography.

This movie is a painfully pedestrian action film, but simply because it’s about, stars and is directed by black women, it has magically been elevated into the “prestige” category. For example, one critic actually admitted in his positive review, “Every single beat of the plot is creaky and familiar, and if it had been a story about white people, it would have been a snore.” Yikes.

Gina Prince-Blythewood, whose last film was the clown show The Old Guard, simply is not a good director. On The Woman King her visuals are relentlessly flat and stale, and the performances from her cast obscenely forced and phony.

The film is really just an action movie so its action sequences should be its calling card, but just like with The Old Guard, the action sequences here are haphazard. Every battle is muddled and murky, poorly shot, poorly choreographed and poorly edited. The amateurish action cheese on-screen in this film makes a home video of a sandbox slap fight between toddlers look like Saving Private Ryan.

It also doesn’t help that these female super soldiers that can allegedly kick everybody’s ass look as weak as a geriatric sewing circle. If good old boy Buford Pusser from Walking Tall (the 1970’s original not the newer one starring The Rock) squared off all by himself against these crazy broads he’d beat them silly with his baseball bat in five minutes flat.

Viola Davis is supposed to be the baddest of badasses as Agojie General Nanisca but she looks like what she is…a nice, middle-aged lady with no muscle tone and probably some bone density loss.

Thuso Mbedu plays new girl Nawi who joins the Agojie, and she is a profoundly shoddy actress and an even worse action hero, as she looks like she’s allergic to exercise and has the upper body strength and muscle tone of a quadriplegic on a hunger strike.

Supporting actress Lashana Lynch plays warrior Izogie and looks like Don Cheadle in drag…which in this context could be construed as a compliment.

None of the acting in this movie rings anything but hollow. There’s lots of posing and preening and pretending on screen, but not any real acting. It’s like watching a girl’s junior high school drama club play act at being macho men.

The only performance that had any life to it was a rather hysterical portrayal of Dahomey King Ghezo by John Boyega. Boyega is so free and funny as the King he steals the whole damn movie.

The reason that other critics won’t tell you these hard truths about The Woman King is the same reason the movie was made in the first place…namely that it’s a black girl power story which makes it a glorious triumph among the weak-kneed woke buffoons in the establishment critical class regardless of its merit…or lack thereof. In other words, it’s a wonderful vehicle for critics to use to signal their virtue.

What makes the movie’s modern-day racial and political posturing so amusing is that The Woman King violently contorts and distorts actual history to such a degree its astonishing the movie didn’t collapse in on itself from its own gargantuan hypocrisy.

The film portrays the Agojie as female super soldiers, vastly superior to any men in combat and morally superior to them in the rest of life by being virulently and violently opposed to slavery. The reality is something very, very, very different. You see, in real life the Agojie and the Dahomey were unrepentant, shameless slave traders. Their economy depended on them kidnapping and capturing other Africans and selling them to Europeans and Americans who would then bring them to the new world.

As uncomfortable as this is to acknowledge, the truth is that black Africans were always vital partners to Europeans and Americans in the slave trade. In fact, it could be argued that without tribes like the Dahomey, which sold Africans to white slave traders, the infamous and calamitous slave trade to America would have been so difficult to make profitable as to be rendered essentially defunct.

Of course, that history is inconvenient to the modern Manichean victimhood narrative around slavery where white men are bad and black people saintly. It should be noted that actress Lupita Nyong’o, a native daughter of Kenya, nobly turned down a role in this film due to the “complicated” history regarding the Dahomey and slavery. Wise woman.

In this context, one can’t help but ponder…would there be more or less generational shame around slavery for black Americans if the actual truth about African complicity in the heinous crime of trans-Atlantic slavery were brought to the fore?

At least in that scenario blacks are not just hapless victims without agency who are too weak or disorganized or technologically inferior to overcome white devils and the monumental machinery of slavery. No, in this historically accurate scenario Africans are crucial cogs in the machinery of slavery itself and therefore are no longer stripped of agency but saddled with some, but obviously not anywhere close to all, responsibility. Would that be a better scenario to cleanse the perceived shame of their ancestors having been enslaved from African-American’s collective consciousness? Maybe, maybe not. My argument would be that the truth about slavery and African’s complicated complicity in it would be a better narrative to embrace in order to heal that grievous wound for the sole reason that it is the truth…and as we know the truth shall set you free.

To be clear, it doesn’t much matter what I think, but to be fair as an Irishman and a Catholic I know a wee bit about generational shame and the cultural and collective insecurities that fester over historical crimes. Take that for what it’s worth.

As if the slave history stuff in The Woman King weren’t enough, the notion of the Agojie as super soldiers is equally, if not more, ridiculous. Not surprisingly, in 1892 when, in one of the few times these female super soldiers fought an actual army, the French slaughtered them in an afternoon using only bayonets, killing 417 Agojie while only losing 6 of their own.  

The question then becomes, with the ugly history of Dahomey slave trading and Agojie military incompetence, why not just make up a fictional story about an imaginary tribe in Africa with great female warriors? I suppose that’s already been done with Marvel’s Black Panther movies…but The Woman King wants to be a real inspiration to black women and delusional feminist fools everywhere, so they manufactured a false story and just labelled it history in order to give it weight, meaning and purpose and garner prestige.

What is most egregious about this approach though is that the movie goes out of its way to whitewash the historical crimes of the Dahomey and place them instead in the hands of reliable movie villains…white men. In the film, Viola Davis’ Nanisca even says, “the white man has brought immorality here!” Ummm…if history is any guide the Dahomey seemed quite advanced when it came to immorality well before the white man ever showed up.

Of course, changing history to make a better story is not exactly breaking new ground in Hollywood, so the crimes of The Woman King in that regard can be shrugged off in the name of empty-headed entertainment…but what can’t be so easily forgiven is the numerous crimes against artistry and drama that the film commits.

The bottom line is that The Woman King is an instantaneously forgettable film that is deserving of neither critical acclaim nor award recognition. That gullible audiences are so dopey as to enjoy this third-rate, cheesy girl power garbage only speaks to the calamitous lowering of taste and standards across the entirety of our culture. I do admit that I wish the Agojie were real though, just so they could mount an offensive and wipe out the philistines who enjoy this sort of mindless junk.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCO

©2023

The Last of Us: TV Review - Zombie Video Game as Prestige TV Zombie

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

My Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. An uneven show that feels like prestige tv fool’s gold.

HBO’s latest prestige tv series, The Last of Us, is a strange one.

The series, which premiered in mid-January and recently ended its first season, follows the trials and tribulations of Joel (Pedro Pascal) and his teenage ward Ellie (Bella Ramsey) as they navigate the perils of a post-apocalyptic, fascist America under siege by fungus-fueled zombies. Considering that description it should come as no surprise that the series is based on a 2013 video game of the same-name.

It seems a bit of an odd choice to make a prestige tv series based on a video game, but thanks to the hard work of HBOs savvy marketing department, the show was well-received by critics and generated a modicum of cultural chatter, no small feat in our scattered entertainment era.

Full disclosure, I’ve never played the video game The Last of Us and in fact had never even heard of it until the tv show came along. This lack of knowledge left me unencumbered by the source material and able to judge the series solely on its value as a tv show not as an extension of the video game.

My thoughts on the series are that…it is…despite some great moments, overall sort of underwhelming. The show is very uneven, as it’s at-times extremely compelling, but also often dull and aggravating. It’s also one of those rather annoyingly trite shows that poses as elevated but is really rather philosophically vacuous and politically vapid.

The first season runs nine episodes and the first episode is easily the best of the bunch. The drama of a civilization instantly crumbling due to a quickly expanding pandemic – a fungus spreading across the globe which turns its victims into zombie extensions of itself, is fantastic and eerily reminiscent of the real-world’s recent tumult. The flashbacks in episode two of how the pandemic started are equally captivating and may have been my favorite part of the series.

Another solid sequence is in episode four and five when Joel and Ellie meet up with a pair of brothers in Kansas City. The four of them must avoid not just zombies but blood thirsty locals. The conclusion of this particular adventure is phenomenal.

The problem though is that the show often feels like…well…a video game. The set ups for most of the adventures feel painfully contrived and uncomfortably like a sequence from a rather simple video game.

The series also has trouble with pacing and with generating and keeping dramatic momentum. For every episode like one, two, four and five where you’re fully invested, the show also has episodes, like three and seven where everything slows down to a crawl and we get stuck in the muck and mire of inconsequential characters and their flaccid non-drama.

It really is purely coincidental that the focus of the drama in episodes three and seven revolves around characters being gay. Even if these characters were as straight as arrows their stories simply wouldn’t be that interesting. Although it must be said that HBO injecting a heavy dose of cultural politics into a story that doesn’t need it is not the least bit surprising in our current hyper-political age. In addition, considering the paucity of people we get to know and spend time with in the series, that close to half of them are gay is sort of hysterical in an absurd way. To quote Kurt Cobain, “what else can I say, everyone is gay!”

The later episodes encapsulate the overall issues with the show as they seem both dramatically lethargic and narratively unfocused. In these last few episodes, a survivalist, charismatic Christian cult comes to the fore and considering the other cultural politics of the show it will not surprise you to learn that they are the most-evil people imaginable.

Despite the first season being much too slow at times, it also somehow manages to feel uncomfortably rushed at its conclusion. It also doesn’t help that the series and its violence become less based in reality in terms of its action as the season progresses, culminating in a rather bizarre 1980s action-movie climax.

The acting in The Last of Us is like the rest of the show, not particularly great. I genuinely like Pedro Pascal and find him to be a pleasing screen presence, and he does solid work as the tortured tough guy Joel, but he’s never really asked to do too much heavy lifting.

Bella Ramsey as Ellie is like nails on a chalkboard. Ramsey is a very unappealing screen presence and she feels completely phony as the struggling teen. Ramsey’s cadence and speech are so odd as to be grating and her entire performance rings very hollow to me.

Melanie Lynskey, an actress I very much like, is terribly miscast in a supporting role as a revolutionary leader fueled by bloodlust and revenge. Unfortunately, Lynskey is so unbelievable in the role as to be ridiculous and it scuttles what is one of the more intriguing storylines.

As for the special effects, the zombies do look pretty cool, and the actors portraying them do a terrific job of being creepy as hell.

On the whole though watching the first season of The Last of Us, despite its occasional high points, felt like a bit of a chore. Maybe I would feel differently if I was familiar with the video-game. Who knows?

In terms of just being a tv series, The Last of Us seems like one of those prestige shows that, like HBO’s Westworld, run out of creativity, lose the plot, lose their audience, and then are quickly tossed down the cultural memory hole never to be thought of again.

Considering The Last of Us seems to have already lost its creative steam (around episode six), I’d guess season two will see a precipitous decline in both audience engagement and critical adoration. It seems to me this prestige drama is a mindless zombie ultimately not long for this world.

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Mel Brooks' History of the World Part II: A Review - Oh, How the Mighty Have Fallen...and Can't Get Up

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

My Rating: 1 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SKIP IT. If you prefer you’re comedy to be funny, then this isn’t the series for you.

Let me start by saying that I love Mel Brooks. He was, for good or for ill, a major influence on the development of my sense of humor growing up.

His movies Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein (which is one of my all-time favorite movies) and History of the World Part I, were on heavy rotation during my formative years and the world has been paying the price for it ever since.

Truth be told though that as much as I love the 96-year-old Mel Brooks, he also has the unique distinction of being the only director in cinema history to have me walk out of one of his films because it sucked so bad. Back in 1993 I got free tickets to a screening of Robin Hood: Men in Tights, and after 45 gruelingly unfunny minutes I made the painful decision to get up and walk out…something I’ve never done before or since.

Which brings us to Mel Brooks’ newest creation, The History of the World Part II, which is a mini-series currently streaming on Hulu.

The most unfortunate thing about Mel Brooks’ History of the World Part II is that I couldn’t walk out of it because then I’d be left standing outside my house in the rain like some shmuck.

History of the World Part I was iconic and hysterical. History of the World Part II is its antithesis, as there’s nothing insightful, original or amusing about it. This series is so actively anti-comedy and anti-funny that I consider it to be the Adolf Hitler of comedy series since it commits a hellacious holocaust against humor.  

It should come as no surprise this series is so bad since it stars the congenitally, malignantly unfunny Wanda Sykes, who I think of as the herpes of comedy – always unwanted yet mystifyingly recurring.

The other star of the series is the turd with feet known as Nick Kroll. If Wanda Sykes is the herpes of comedy, Nick Kroll is AIDS. Kroll is not only egregiously not funny, he is aggressively anti-funny. Kroll is a black hole of comedy who sucks all humor and all possibility of humor out of every scene he inhabits. Kroll is so unfunny he seems to have been given anti-comedy enemas for years at a time to remove any semblance of funny from his system. Kroll is so allergic to being funny he should be sealed in an oil drum at the bottom of the ocean with his eyes, ears and mouth taped shut for his and our safety.

Kroll plays a cavalcade of grating characters, like Shmuck Mudman, Judas, Galileo and Henry Kissinger. Sykes’ characters include Harriet Tubman and, in the unquestionably least funny recurring part of the entire series, Shirley Chisholm.

The third “star” listed on the series is Ike Barenholtz. Ike, who plays Ulysses S. Grant and Alexander Graham Bell, is a thousand times funnier than Sykes and Kroll combined and yet he wouldn’t know funny if it gang raped him in a prison shower. A comedy truism to always remember is that if the funniest person in your comedy series is Ike Barenholtz, you’ve got some major fucking problems.

History of the World Part II, which runs for 8 interminable, thirty-minute episodes, covers such topics as the Civil War, Jesus and his Apostles, The Russian Revolution, Shirley Chisholm, Kublai Khan, Typhoid Mary and Stalin among many others.

Literally the only time I laughed during the entire excruciating four hours of this series was when, in a scene set in 1865, Abraham Lincoln, played by Timothy Simons, kept complaining about being tall and how he bumps his head all the time. Lincoln then exits a room and painfully bumps his head on the door frame. After gathering himself he declares “well, that’s definitely the worst thing that’ll happen to my head this year!” That’s funny. The rest of the show is not.

What stood out like a sore thumb in this series is that Mel Brooks, the guy who wrote “Springtime for Hitler”, has been completely neutered. Throughout the series Brooks genuflects to wokeness at every turn. The most obvious of which is a series of flaccid jokes directed at whites by Sykes as her Tubman and Chisholm characters. Yawn.

That Brooks has been reduced to conforming to the vapid, politically correct guidelines du jour is one of the more disheartening developments in recent years. You would think that a genius like Brooks, who usually finds the heights of comedy by pushing back against such ridiculous constraints, would be even less inclined to conform to them now that he’s 96, but apparently not.

Brooks, who is now almost the same age as his 2,000-Year-Old Man character, is a living piece of 20th Century comedy history. His career, which spans writing with a hall-of-fame collection of comedians for Sid Caesar’s The Show of Shows to the heights of Hollywood filmdom and Broadway dominance, is a testament to his prodigious talent.

Unfortunately, Brooks long ago lost his comedy fastball, and it would be best for his glorious legacy if History of the World Part II is memory-holed and quickly forgotten.

If you want to enjoy Mel Brooks, go watch Young Frankenstein again, or Blazing Saddles or History of the World Part I. Whatever you do don’t be a putz and a shmuck and watch the absolute worst double feature in Mel Brooks’ cinema history, History of the World Part II and Robin Hood: Men in Tights.  

 Follow me on Twitter: @MPMActingCo

©2023

Triangle of Sadness: A Review - Savage and Insightful Social Satire

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

My Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT. A fantastic, original and scathing takedown of modern society.

Triangle of Sadness, written and directed by Ruben Ostlund, is one of the best films of last year and one of the more misunderstood films in recent history.

The movie, which is a black comedy/social satire, was nominated for Best Picture, Best Director and Best Original Screenplay at the Academy Awards, but was tepidly received by critics and audiences alike as evidenced by its 71% critical score and 68% audience score at Rotten Tomatoes.

The film premiered in the U.S. in October and generated almost no buzz. In my circles in Hollywood, I heard no one talk about it at all, be it positively or negatively. It seemed the movie, which is in the English language but is produced by a cavalcade of foreign production companies from England, France, Germany, Sweden and Denmark among many others, would just come and go and be forgotten.

But then the film was nominated for a bunch of Oscars, which is why I figured I should watch it in order to be up to date prior to the Academy Awards. Thankfully the film is now streaming on Hulu which makes it more accessible.

I watched the film knowing nothing about it prior and came away from my screening believing it to be unquestionably one of the very best of the year, and certainly the most original.

The film is broken into three parts. The first is titled “Carl and Yaya” and it introduces us to models/social media influencers Carl and Yaya, two beautiful people navigating the business of marketing their bodies as well as their intimate relationship.

This opening section is absolutely mesmerizing and could be a stand-alone movie all its own. Carl, played by Harris Dickinson, and Yaya, played by Charlbi Dean, are so compelling and captivating that you are instantaneously drawn into their very topical, painfully politically correct, gender-sensitive, Gen Z drama.

Swedish writer/director Ostlund masterfully shoots this opening section with a stunning level of both subtlety and craftsmanship. There’s one shot of a conversation in a car that is as good as anything seen in a movie in years.

The second section of the film, titled “The Yacht”, chronicles Carl and Yaya and a bunch of other incredibly wealthy people as they vacation on a giant yacht. This section sets up the power dynamics between the unconscionably rich and the working people in the service industry at their beck and call.

This part of the movie is, to put it mildly, batshit crazy, as it devolves into one of the more absurd and extreme bits of physical comedy you’ll ever witness. That said, it is also incredibly insightful in terms of presenting and then propelling the film’s philosophical narrative.

The third section, titled “The Island”, turns the film on its head (again I’m being vague to avoid spoilers) as it lays bare the insidious hunger for power that lies at the heart of humanity.

After watching the film, I did something I rarely, if ever, do…I went and read some reviews of it. The reviews, which were all mostly dismissive, all said the same thing…that the film was nothing more than a rather trite criticism of American capitalism. The fact that politically-correct, limousine liberals writing for various high falutin, establishment, corporate media entities like the New York Times and such, would disapprove of a scathing Euro takedown of American capitalism should come as no surprise. But what did surprise me was that I didn’t see the film as a trite criticism of capitalism.

Yes, the film does criticize capitalism, but it also, and with maybe even more ferocity and fervor, criticizes the criticisms of capitalism. For example, at one point in the film there is a drunken debate between a wealthy capitalist and the socialist captain of the yacht. The two of them regurgitate famous quotes at one another to make their argument because neither is able to think for themselves or have an original thought. The wealthy capitalist is a repugnant pig and former citizen of the Soviet Union, and the socialist sea captain is a lazy drunkard who literally has been unable to leave his cabin to perform his duties due to his inebriation.

That the capitalist admits he sells “shit” and the socialist sea captain makes money being too drunk to pilot a giant yacht for the rich, sums up perfectly the scathing social satire of Triangle of Sadness. That critics are so venal, vapid and vacuous that they are unable to see past the obvious façade of “anti-capitalism” in this film in order to see the much deeper and more important point of it all is both damning and alarming. Or maybe critics actually did see the film’s deeper meaning and were angry that their woke worldview was so easily and entertainingly disemboweled. Who knows?

Regardless of misguided critic’s opinions, Triangle of Sadness is one of those glorious films that rattles around your brain for days after seeing it. The compromises the characters make in order to survive and/or thrive and to above all else deceive themselves, is an extraordinary thing to watch.

Ruben Ostlund’s direction is simply stunning. The opening section features numerous scenarios that are so exquisitely conjured and executed as to be amazing. For example, the modeling audition that Carl attends is both hysterically funny and unconscionably depressing for its accuracy and incisiveness.

In the second section, Ostlund does something so subtle and so clever that I’ve been ruminating on it for weeks now. During a chaotic sequence, which I won’t reveal to avoid spoilers, Ostlund introduces, almost out of nowhere, the sound of a baby crying. This baby and its parents are not featured characters and are little more than extras in the movie at best, but the sound of the baby crying elicits in the viewer a deep psychological and emotional reaction that is totally instinctual. This crying baby amidst the comedy chaos is like a vicious kick in the gut, and it leaves you shaken even if you aren’t sure why.

The third section is the laying bare of human nature and power dynamics and an escalation of the film’s critique of capitalism and criticisms of capitalism. That stereotypes regarding gender politics and economics are eviscerated in this section only makes it all the more delicious.

The cast of Triangle of Sadness all do exemplary work. Harris Dickinson and Charlbi Dean as Carl and Yaya are utterly fantastic. Dickinson in particular is able to walk a perilous tightrope to perfection. Dean, who in the most tragic of circumstances actually died last August before the film was released, is a magnetic screen presence and an absolute natural.

Other actors, like Zlatko Buric as the wealthy businessman, and Woody Harrelson as the drunken sea captain, and Dolly De Leon as the mysterious Abigail, all do solid work in their roles.

The bottom-line regarding Triangle of Sadness is that it takes no prisoners in its attack on the political, social and economic spectrum. Whether socialist or capitalist, man or woman, liberal or conservative, you’ll find yourselves in the crosshairs of this movie, and you’ll have no viable counter-argument as the film is aggressively astute and allergic to sentimentality.

If you can “stomach” it, I highly recommend Triangle of Sadness, as it is extremely well-made and extraordinarily insightful. This is the kind of movie that cinema desperately needs right now, and it was a joy to discover it.

©2023