Last of the Monster Kids

Last of the Monster Kids
"LAST OF THE MONSTER KIDS" - Available Now on the Amazon Kindle Marketplace!

Friday, February 7, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Elton John: Never Too Late (2024)


When I was a really young kid, I went through a time when getting to sleep was a struggle. It's not that I wasn't ready for bed time. I was afraid to go to sleep because I thought monsters were going to eat me. That's a whole other story. Anyway, one of the few things that would calm me down, weirdly enough, was putting on Elton John's “Greatest Hits.” “Your Song” I found especially relaxing. All of this is to say that, yes, I do have some affection for Sir Elton's music. I don't consider him one of the great pop stars or anything. That run from “Honky Chateau” to “Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy” is fairly unimpeachable though. Outside of “The Lion King” soundtrack, John's output hasn't caught my attention much in the last three decades. (I did think “This Train Don't Stop There Anymore” was a good song though.) He's clearly still a big enough of a touring act that, when he announced that he was retiring from performing, it received quite a bit of attention... Including a new documentary about his life, tracking the occasion. “Elton John: Never Too Late” probably wouldn't have been much more than a blip in the man's career but it did snag an Oscar nomination for Best Original Song, proving that the Academy clearly still loves the old queen. 

In 2018, John would kick-off his “Farewell Yellow Brick Road” tour, promised to be his final time performing his music for a live audience. Directors R.J. Cutler – previously behind documentaries about Billie Ellish, John Belushi, and Martha Stewart – construct the film around John returning to Dodgers Stadium, where he previously performed a pair of sold-out concerts in 1975. (The film is also co-credited to David Furnish, John's husband who previously made a film about him in 1997.) The doc leaps back and forth in time between John preparing in the modern day for this farewell tour and his life in the seventies, during the peak of his fame, as recounted through a series of archive interviews recorded during the writing of his memoir. 

The 2019 release of “Rocketman,” the biopic about John's life, led to a revival of interest in his music. I imagine his farewell tour becoming the third highest grossing tour of all time probably has something to do with that. That film covered the musician's early life, rise to fame, his days of excessive drugs and wild partying in the seventies, his mental and emotional burn-out, and his quest to get clean. Despite that movie being well received and successful, “Never Too Late” strangely covers more-or-less the same period. He discusses how he became interested in playing piano, his difficult childhood and strained relationship with his parents, and how his loneliness led to a dependency on drugs and alcohol. “Never Too Late” concludes basically with John's suicide attempt, in which he overdoses on pills and dives into a pool, a dramatic moment that was also covered in “Rocketman.” 

Obviously, the main difference between this film and “Rocketman” is that John himself is recounting this time in his life in his own words. The doc clearly had an unlimited access to archival footage, everything from childhood pictures to grainy vintage interviews being shown. For moments in John's life not documented, the film recreates them with brief animated interludes. And some of these anecdotes are interesting. Such as when John describes confessing his platonic love to songwriting partner Bernie Taupin. Or, amusingly, tells of a time he and John Lennon were consuming a mountain of cocaine and attempting to hide from Andy Warhol. These more personal stories are definitely worth hearing, even if “Never Too Late” slips them in-between the standard rock doc arc of a rise, a drug-induced fall, and an inevitable rise again.

The device of jumping between the two time periods reveals a big weakness about “Never Too Late.” The scenes we get of John in the modern day are far more perfunctory. We see him being made up for the performance, video-chatting with his two sons, or putzing around the studio with producers that are considerably younger than him. While it's sweet to watch him chitchat with his children or goof around back stage, these moments give us very little insight into the man's creative process or personal life. After a while, it becomes clear why “Never Too Late” is structured the way it is: A documentary about John's final tour was the original idea but, well, the footage gathered wasn't very interesting. Meanwhile, the story of his drug-induced depravity and mental health struggles in the seventies have already powered one successful movie. 

In its final third, “Never Too Late” mostly puts the archive footage away and shows clips of the man performing during the Dodgers Stadium show. He might be a doddering old man now but the guy can clearly still sing and play. In these late scenes, “Never Too Late” becomes a half-assed concert film of sorts. Once again, you feel this editorial schism in the movie. Is this a documentary about John's career overall, his final tour, or simply a capture of him singing during this one performance? The documentary never quite seems to decide on one approach over another, attempting to fill the remaining spaces with the animated sequences or classic performance footage. 

The result is a film that's unlikely to tell hardcore fans of John anything they didn't already know. Casual listeners also aren't given too much new to chew on, aside from a handful of amusing words from the man himself. There's not too much to it, in other words, though it's not the worst way to pass 102 minute. As for the nominated song, it only plays over the end credits and is a passable enough ballad. But it probably says a lot about “Never Too Late” that I learned more about Elton John scanning through his Wikipedia article than I did this movie. Did you know he wrote the music for a Broadway musical based on Anne Rice's “Lestat the Vampire?” Or a more recent musical about Tammy Faye Bakker? Both are apparently pretty lame but morbid curiosity is getting to me, I'll admit... [6/10]

Wednesday, February 5, 2025

OSCARS 2025: The Apprentice (2024)


I do not want to think about Donald Trump. Back when he was only a pop culture punchline, a personification of everything gaudy and vulgar about American greed, he was easy enough to ignore. As the host of a trashy reality TV show, perhaps he seemed harmless. Surely this human cartoon character wouldn't be a threat to democracy? Now, after his inexplicable rise to political power, I wake up in a state of anxiety every day. Fearful of how this vile conman, and his administration of bumbling cronies and unrepentant fascists, are going to make life worse for anyone who is not a rich white cis man today. I would rather think about anything other than the bloviating ogre in the oval office right now. Unfortunately, the Epoch of Trump is inescapable, an extremely dumb force of evil that will consume all of us as surely as the wildfires and floods will consume the globe. At least at the moment, it is still legal to speak critically of the Fuhrer and his administration. Which means we are in for many years of art trying to answer the question of how the hell we got in this ridiculous predicament. At first, it seemed like "The Apprentice," the examination of Trump's origins from the director of "Border" and "Holy Spider," would be overlooked by the Academy. The media's sudden vibe shift towards placating the fascist clowns controlling our government now has been impossible not to notice. However, I guess there's enough people who think watching a movie is actually activism that "The Apprentice" managed to sneak into the acting categories. This is why I watched a movie I really didn't want to see and I don't even get paid for this shit. 

Many years before becoming a fast food pitchman and then the President, Donald Trump is merely the son of a rich Manhattan landlord. The Department of Justice is investigating the Trumps for their racist treatment of black tenants. That's when Donald meets Roy Cohn, Joseph McCarthy's former chief prosecutor. Cohn sees something in the bumbling Trump and takes him under his wing. Using blackmail, Cohn successfully defends the Trumps from the DOJ. He uses similarly underhanded tactics to get the state to approve the tax breaks necessary for Trump to turn a run-down Manhattan hotel into a Hyatt. Using Cohn's rules for life – always attack, never admit wrongdoing, and claim victory no matter what – Donald becomes a mogul and tabloid fixture. He marries a Czech supermodel, further strains his relationship with his father and brother, and builds a grand ode to his own ego on 5th Avenue. He begins to ignore Cohn's advice, abusing weight loss drugs and building unsuccessful casinos in Atlantic City, pushing the two apart amid the AIDS crisis and Reaganism. 

During Trump's first successful presidential campaign, there was much bafflement about how a flagrant, compulsive liar could convince millions of voters he was a man of the people. Rather than focus on the countless societal factors at play, director Ali Abbasi and writer Gabriel Sherman zero in on Trump's relationship with Cohn as the origin point for his philosophy towards reality. Cohn teaches Trump that the truth is what we make it. If you lose a court case, insist you won anyway. If you did something illegal, never admit to it. No matter how guilty you are, always accuse your enemies of worse. Others will perceive you as successful, as right, through sheer force of will. Cohn teaches Trump to dress the part. He tells him to operate with undue self-confidence and break the rules to discredit those that stand in your way. And it works. Trump and Cohn dispel the DOJ investigation and talk the city into giving him the tax cuts he wants. Donald convinces Ivana to marry him and even sees her sign a ridiculous prenup she hates. He crafts such an aura of success that he eventually wins over his tyrannical father. I've seen New Age-y crackpots write essays about how Trump is an unconscious dark magician, changing the nature of reality to suit himself strictly through belief in his own power. "The Apprentice" ditches the psychomagik but comes to a similar conclusion. Cohn taught Trump the rules: Con everyone until the con absorbs the truth. And thus the Post-Truth Age, now ruled by TikTok conspiracy theories and AI generated slop, is born.

Another lesson Cohn gives Trump, as depicted here, is that all contradictions are irrelevant. One of the first things Roy does after meeting Donny is drop an anti-gay slur. This is despite Cohn being a barely closeted homosexual himself, freely partaking in the sex and drugs of New York's seventies party scene. A key moment has Roy showing Donald his collection of illegally recorded tapes of those he prosecuted. He uses criminal techniques such as these to bludgeon his enemies into submission and, all the while, claims to be a morally upright lawyer that stands for America. While the film never depicts Cohn as anything but a self-interested crook, his belief in America seems quite sincere... But what the hell does "America" mean to someone like that? How can someone with no scruples about right and wrong, on a personal or objective level, claim to stand for anything? To Cohn, "America" and all the freedom of choice it stands for is a vessel to justify any personal action or petty grudge. In a key scene, Trump receives a badge from the Reagan campaign with the slogan "Let's Make America Again." Donald admits that gesturing towards some lost, golden past is important to success, another example of how mutable these ideas and labels are to him. If Trump says America is an amazing country but also it needs to be made great again, it's true because he says it is. No matter what lie or half-assed bullshit he spouts, no matter how much he contradicts himself, it's all true because he says it is. 

Abbasi manages to do something that probably should be impossible: He humanizes Donald Trump without losing sight of what a grotesquely evil man he is. In the film's early scenes, Trump is a comical figure. He's berated – literally with boiling hot water at one point – by the tenants of his father's building. His dad never has any respect for his sons or pride in their achievements, driving Donald's brother Fred to alcoholism. An ideology about winners and losers is drilled into Trump's head. This shows a fundamental insecurity on Donald's behalf, a fear that he himself will be a "loser" someday. Cohn's philosophy, that you are a winner if you say you are, frees Donald from this weight... At the cost of whatever rotten wisp of a soul he had to begin with. 

In its last third, "The Apprentice" depicts Trump's fall into his own decadence. He receives blowjobs from models, piles his plate at the casino hotel buffet with food, pops pills, and gets plastic surgery to suck out his fat and cover up his bald spot. When his broken, unemployed brother arrives at his suite, Donald ultimately turns him away in the most condescending manner possible. After Cohn's AIDS infection becomes impossible to ignore, Trump's germaphobia – further evidence of his fear of a lack of control – pushes away his once mentor. In the most vile scene in the film, Trump violently assaults his wife after she insults the one thing that matters to him: His perception of himself as a "winner." Through it all, the future president emerges as an utterly pathetic figure, so determined to fashion an unshakable vision of being undefeated that he fights off the tears he nearly cries when his brother dies and when his wife tries to comfort him. By the end, he's so unable to connect with other people that he tries to convince his senile father to sign over his siblings' inheritance to him, in order to pay off his own debts. Because if it helps him "win," how can it be wrong? One of the taglines for "The Apprentice" was "An American horror story." The horror is not so much what this man will inflict on the country he claims to love years down the line. Instead, the horror is in watching a person – once a crying baby, like all of us, like Don Jr. is in one scene – turn himself into an inhuman monster. 

You can certainly debate the merits of humanizing a man currently making so many people's lives miserable right now. Perhaps “The Apprentice's” somewhat shapeless last third is because the film is so determined not to leave Trump sympathetic. The same can be said of the two extraordinary performances at its center. Sebastian Stan, made an almost eerie approximation of Trump's appearance through some well done make-up, always insures that there's a layer of sweaty desperation and uncouth ego in everything Trump does. He clearly devoted himself to mimicking the President's bizarre physical tics and vocal inflections. If acting is a game of convincing the audience you are another person, you certainly don't see much of Stan in his depiction of Trump here. Jeremy Strong, meanwhile, makes Cohn a perpetually glaring figure, dead-eyed and tanned golden brown, spitting every vile thing he says with utmost conviction. They are extraordinary physical transformation. Kasper Tuxen's cinematography grants the film a gritty visual sense, often emphasizing the grimy feeling of inauthenticity that clings to everything Trump surrounds himself with, going a long way to further sell its performances.

It's been nearly ten years since Trump wormed his presence into seemingly every corner of American life, a curse I can't see ourselves being free of any time soon. In that time, we've already had plenty of polemics about how the hell any of this has been possible. “The Apprentice” comes the closest to answering how an openly corrupt, proudly vulgar man could become such a prominent political figure. Abbasi is Iranian-Danish, seeming to prove the Paul Verhoeven Rule again, that filmmakers from outside America are better at perceiving its character than those born and raised in this country. With two powerful performance behind it, the film manages to get at some nuggets of truth about how a person like that comes into being, an attempt to make some sort of sense out this chaotic madness that holds we innocent bystanders in its grip. [8/10]

Monday, February 3, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Sing Sing (2024)


Everyone loves an inspiring true story. In 1996, a group of inmates at Sing Sing Correctional Facility in New York approached minister Katherine Vockins about getting help putting on a play. This was the beginning of Rehabilitation Through the Arts, a program designed to bring art workshops to prisons. RTA is currently active in ten facilities around New York and seems to have contributed to low reoffending rates. It's a nice story and one that caught the eye of screenwriter Greg Kwedar, who made his directorial debut with "Sing Sing," a fictional film about the organization that used real graduates from the program. Now Kwedar and the film's star, Colman Domingo, are nominated for Oscars. 

Divine G is an inmate at Sing Sing, imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. G has become heavily involved with the prison's performing arts program, both writing and starring in the plays. New inmate Divine Eye grabs G's attention and he recruits him into the program. G wants the next play to be a drama but Eye suggests a comedy, which the other inmates are enthusiastic about. As the story takes shape, G and Eye bristle against each other until he convinces the new addition to open up a bit. While working on the play, G is also gathering evidence to clear his name. The dual stresses begin to weigh on Divine G, threatening both the performance and his chances of being paroled. 

If we agree that toxic masculinity is a real thing, I think few elements contribute to it more than men never being taught to process their own emotions. To this day, a lot of boys are told to suppress any feeling but anger. I have no doubt that this contributes to the rate of violent crime and other offenses. This is one of the central ideas of "Sing Sing." As Divine Eye joins the theater trope, he's confrontational at first and attempts to start fights over simple infractions. In a soft, intuitive way, G gets Eye to get in touch with his inner feelings and process how he interacts with them in a healthy way. In other words, it's a form of therapy that works without the participant necessarily noticing it. That's probably a good way to reach men hardened by their lot in life and the environment they're in. The proof is in the pudding, since Divine Eye – real name Clarence Maclin – and most of the supporting cast are genuine graduates of RTA, essentially playing themselves in the film.

There are other reasons why I think theater works as an effective form of therapy. Throughout "Sing Sing," we see the joy the men feel in being a part of creating something. The brainstorming session, where they toss around a bunch of crazy ideas for the play, is one of funnier moments in the film. Honestly, I think creative endeavors are both a good distraction from the daily strife of prison life and a good way to give these perhaps hopeless men something else to look forward to. It creates a sense of brotherhood among the guys, collaborating with one another and appreciating each other's talents. This is true in both real life and the film. The scenes devoted to the inmates putting the play together, assembling a seemingly random set of ingredients into some sort of coherent story, are a delight. Sometimes you seeing all the puzzle pieces fall into place, through colorful montages and opening night jitters, is entertaining enough. (Especially when those ingredients include time travel, ancient Egypt, and Freddy Krueger, making me wonder how many times that particular character has been mentioned in an Academy Award nominated film.) 

Honestly, the parts of the film focused on the theater trope preparing their play prove a lot more natural than the other subplots. G's attempts to clear his name and be successfully released never feel like a natural inclusion to the plot. These scenes often seem to exist specifically to provide those Oscar clip moments. Such as a tearful presentation for the parole board or, especially, an outburst of anger during a rehearsal. The pressure to make "Sing Sing" function more like a traditional drama is also apparent in a sudden plot point midway through, which never feels organically included and comes out of nowhere. (Intentionally but still.) Considering he's an experienced screenwriter, it's a bit surprising that Kwedar doesn't seem to trust the value of the already existing true story, ironically counteracting the repeated line of "Trust the process." If "Sing Sing" was simply a film about a group of prison inmates putting on a play, it would be just as good as it is now and probably better. 

Not to say that the film is bad. Cinematographer Pat Scola has a good eye, combining more naturalistic moves with some expressive colors. Colman Domingo, unsurprisingly, is excellent in the lead. Domingo has a screen presence that is both easygoing and accessible, put to good use as a guy trying to get other men to open up a bit, while also being able to put some real muscle into the more dramatic moments. As filled with showy speeches as "Sing Sing" might be, they are all well done. Clarence Maclin is also very good, seeming fittingly unrefined in a lot of ways while showing a fine sensitivity as an actor. All of the guys are clearly comfortable on-camera, bringing a lived-in camaraderie with each other to the group scenes. All of this suggest that a more straight-ahead true story about the Rehabilitation Through the Arts organization might have made for a better formed film, rather than squeezing those details into a traditional drama. 

If "Sing Sing" ultimately can't rise above the label of being Oscar Bait, it still is a good film. Domingo's carefully considered abilities and fiery passion make for a dynamite lead while the supporting cast obviously brings a deeply personal, unique approach to the behavior. I'm predisposed to enjoy any story of a rag-tag group of misfits coming together to put on a show, a formula which "Sing Sing" happily embraces in its best moments. Despite aiming directly for the hearts of Academy voters at times, this still functions as a largely understated and sweet story about forgiving the self and redeeming the soul through the medium of the arts. Maybe it should've have been a documentary. Hopefully, Kwedar takes his own advice and trusts the process more on his next feature. I also hope to see some more of Maclin and the other actors in the future. May this film be the beginning of their own stories of expression and artistic fulfilment. [7/10] 

Sunday, February 2, 2025

OSCARS 2025: A Real Pain (2024)


When an actor makes the leap from starring in movies to directing them, you never can be sure what you'll get. Sometimes, the outcome is forgettable. Other times, they prove so good at working behind the camera that it overtakes their acting careers. Ocassionally, we'll get lucky and an ego-tripping vanity project fiasco will fall into our laps. Jesse Eisenberg made his directorial debut with “When You Finish Saving the World” in 2022. The movie grabbed some good reviews without making a big splash. Eisenberg did double duty on his second feature, both directing and starring in “A Real Pain.” That might seem like a tall order but it's worked out for him, the film getting raves and picking up a number of awards this season. We don't know if Jesse will go full Eastwood in the future but he's certainly off to a strong start.

David, a neurotic Jewish man with a wife and daughter, meets his cousin Benji at the airport. While David is shy and nervous, Benji is outspoken and gregarious. The two were close in their youth but have drifted apart recently. The recent passing of their grandmother left Benji devastated, him attempting suicide. The two are reconnecting to go on a tour of Poland together through historical Jewish sites. Quickly, Benji's free-spirited ways – and tendency to challenge the tour guide – start to irritate David. Long simmering resentments and arguments start to slowly come to the surface, as the unlikely pair divert from the rest of the tour group to visit their grandmother's childhood home. 

“A Real Pain” does not exactly break new ground by being about the pressures and joys of familial bonds. However, it's a well-observed and funny take on the idea. David and Benji are two guys that have known each other their whole lives. They've seen one another at high and low points. David was an emotional youth, prone to crying episodes. He has his life under control now, properly medicated and with a healthy marriage. Benji seems to be the same youthful, exuberant person he's always been. That inevitably results in lots of awkwardness, the two personalities clashing, which is played for a lot of charming comedy. However, there's a life time of issues between the two as well. A key, powerful moment has David describing how complicated the relationship is, how frustrated and angry he gets with Benji. At the same time, there's little doubt that he loves his cousin too. “A Real Pain” does a good job of capturing the dual aspects of relationships such as these. 

In his time as a leading man, Jesse Eisenberg has certainly carved out a good niche for himself. He seems to have embraced his tendency to play either neurotic dorks, rage-filled nerds, or some combination there of. Clearly Eisenberg is fine with playing these type of characters, since he wrote another one for himself in “A Real Pain.” Meanwhile, Kiernan Culkin co-stars as Benji, the latest role of his that can be described as someone who disguises their angst with sarcasm. Proving again that there's nothing wrong with typecasting some times, both actors do fantastically in these roles. David's neuroses are always evident, Eisenberg doing a great job of showing how this guy still isn't comfortable in his own skin. Culkin, meanwhile, rambles and rants and swears impulsively, a cyclone of energy that causes mischief and makes friends everywhere he goes. Moreover, watching these two play off each other is continuously rewarding. 

While there's something to be said for letting these guys run loose on the kind of characters they are both adapt at playing, Culkin truly does create something special here. Benji isn't only a free spirit, a Manic Pixie Dream Cousin that shows up to shake up David's life and make him a little more relaxed. He's a fuck-up too, a lifetime of mistakes in his past. It's easy to see why that is, Benji showing a bipolar rhymem as he swings between high energy, incensed anger, or deep pain. It's a show-off kind of part, especially when Benji is stripping down the other members of the tour group on the privilege he perceives in them. Culkin is good at the subtle parts too, the weight in Benji's eyes at the pain he carries with him everywhere never too far from his face. Culkin makes the stories and anecdotes Benji share really come to life, the history of this character and what he shares with David feeling fleshed-out and lived-in.

Eisenberg's film is mostly concerned with smaller issues of family, of long-held anxieties and loves between two men. However, the title has a deeper meaning too. As David and Benji are led through Poland, they see sights of historical struggle, loss, and repression. They visit a monument to Jewish war heroes, a graveyard, and finally a concentration camp. That last stop moves Benji to tears, the film growing unusually quiet. Among the tour group is a survivor of the Rwandan genocide, who converted to Judaism late in life. This is another person very familiar with pain but has found a way to continue past it and live his life. The cinematography in “A Real Pain” often frames its characters in wide shots of the Polish cities and countrysides, making it feel even more like a tour in of itself. When paired with the emotional journey, that makes the movie a tour of the landscape of pain, the way history – the personal and the monumental – lingers and forges us.

Ending in practically the same spot it starts, “A Real Pain” intentionally feels a bit like a closed loop. Perhaps the idea is that David and Benji both have and haven't changed much since their younger days. When you're around family, your always kind of stuck in a childhood role like that. Eisenberg and Culkin are both fantastic in this keenly observed story of lifelong bonds and all the baggage that comes with them. There are quiet laughs here, mostly thanks to the sharply delivered and naturalistic dialogue. Watching these two hang-out, argue, and bicker is a real joy too. I'm a sucker for stories of siblings or sibling-like relationships, which is probably why this one appealed to me so much. Hey, maybe this Michael Cera wannabe is gonna go places after all. [8/10]

Friday, January 31, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Nickel Boys (2024)


The line between fiction and non-fiction has always been blurry. As long as human beings, with our subjective points of view, are relating a true story, we can never be entirely sure how true to reality their telling is. Even documentaries, filmed on the ground as they happen, are at the mercy of editorial choices and artistic decisions. All of this is to say that documentary filmmakers often cross the barrier into fictional narrative features. The two formats are not as different as they might seem. One is a narrative you composed from the imagination, the other is a narrative you compose from what you've collected. Ramell Ross' 2018 Oscar nominated film "Hale County, This Morning This Evening" already straddled the line between doc and arthouse movie, showing life in a small town via a stream-of-conscious flow of footage. That probably made Ross' leap to what we think of as "regular" movies easier. His non-documentary debut, "Nickel Boys," is an adaptation of a novel by Colson Whitehead but also blends fact, fiction, and off-beat camerawork. Riding a wave of critical acclaim, the movie scored a surprise nomination for Best Picture this year. 

Elwood Curtis is a bright young boy growing up in segregated, sixties Florida. As the civil rights movement heats up, Elwood quietly watches the resistance from white folks and considers warnings from his cautious grandmother – whose father and husband were victims of racial violence – not to get involved. Receiving acceptance into a tuition-free program at a black university, Elwood hitchhikes towards the school. He's picked up by a black man in a stolen car, the police quickly catching up with them. Assumed to be an accomplice, Elwood is arrested. Underage, he's taken to Nickel Academy, a private school for juvenile offenders. The school is heavily racially segregated, the black students often abused and even killed by the white staff. There, Elwood meets Turner, another introspective student/prisoner, and the two plot to escape the institute. Years later, an adult Elwood reflects on these events. 

The first thing you'll notice about "Nickel Boys" is the way it's photographed. The film is shot almost entirely in first person perspective, the audience seeing the world as Elwood – and later Turner – see it. Sometimes, we assume the boys' point of view directly, the camera acting as their eyes. Other times, we float just behind a character's head, as if we are secretly peeking into their mind for a minute. The technique is somewhat disorientating but it's clear what Ross and cinematographer Jomo May are trying to do. "Nickel Boys" wants to put audiences – and, one assumes, white audiences especially – directly into the heads of these black children. We are not perceiving the events as a third party outsider. The film is attempting to put us there, as if we were experiencing these things ourselves. It's a canny way for Ross to avoid awards bait clichés of films about "black suffering," presented as guilt generating spectacle for largely white critical bodies. Instead, "Nickel Boys" functions much more like a memory of a historical event, endeavoring to make scenarios that might be thought of only as textbook passages instead as something far more personal. 

Or maybe that's my white boy privilege getting in the way, my own born-in inability to see pass the racial boundaries I've always grown up around getting in the way of the artistic techniques Ross implements. I'm an idiot sometimes, so it's possible. What I can see is the way "Nickel Boys" captures the pacing of a memory. The film is narrative is often fragmented. It leaps between the two boys' viewpoints without warning. About an hour in, the film jumps ahead into the future when Elwood is an adult, signaled by a shot of a computer mouse. It took me a minute to catch up sometimes, especially amid the other artistic touches employed like flashing images or blurry camera work. However, this is how the human mind works. We don't remember events in a straight line. Little things will invoke a feeling from our past, otherwise unrelated events blossoming in our head. "Nickel Boys" does a good job of capturing that mental flow, giving us snapshots of what happens to these characters, some times out of order, to put us more thoroughly in this feeling. 

Ross strikes me as a filmmaker driven more by emotion than technique or narrative. Whitehead's novel and the subsequent film are inspired by the Dozier School for Boys, a reform school in Florida that operated from 1900 to 2011. Hideous abuse went on all throughout that staggering lifetime, divided sharply along racial lines. The discovery of mass graves on the school grounds is not an invention of this fictionalization. Ross approaches the topic as sensitively as possible. The physical torture is only glimpsed, boys forced to spend time in a "sweat box" being the only brutality actually depicted on-screen. The sexual abuse is more than implied but is kept to suggestion. It's clear that the director was not looking to make a lurid melodrama out of these real life horrors. The historical is the personal for these characters and the real people that inspired them. "Nickel Boys" seeks to capture the emotional experience of that time and place, as recalled long after the obvious scars have healed by the worst questions linger on. 

To that effect, smaller scenes become as devastating as any visceral depiction would be. Turner's mom visits the school, unable to see her son at the time, and gives Elwood a hug in his place. As an adult, he runs into a fellow survivor at a bar, the two having a conservation that slowly reveals how shattered the other man has been left by these scars. As in real life, small gestures and simple conversation often reveal the most upsetting truths, "Nickel Boys" getting tears out of the audience through understated scenes means more so than the melodrama we are more accompanied to in fiction. The performances and music all follow this direction, "Nickel Boys" operating as a story that keeps its heart close to its chest. Much the same way, one imagines, that the men who lived through similar events must do all throughout their lives. 

This technique does not make "Nickel Boys" the most accessible of films. It took me about a half-hour to truly get on its dreamy wavelength and understand what it's doing. However, I think Ross and his team were ultimately successful in their goals. "Nickel Boys" is an attempt to approach historical atrocity in a way that dispels exploitation as much as possible, conveying to the viewer the experience of having lived through these events and be stuck with the memories, not defined by them but irrevocably changed by them. I'll admit, it's the type of motion picture I might be too dumb to understand. That the usually extremely middlebrow Academy embraced – in so much as two nominations can be described as "embraced" – something bolder and a little more experimental than your standard biopic is surprising, I'll admit. I'm not sure I totally caught everything "Nickel Boys" is trying to do but I'm impressed by its approach and left very interested to see what Ross might do next. [8/10]

Thursday, January 30, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Wicked (2024)


In 1900, L. Frank Baum published his children's novel, “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.” The book was an immediate success, selling over 10,000 copies in a month. The story would be adapted into a stage musical two years later, which also a hit. This prompted Baum to write thirteen sequels, other writers keeping the cash cow going after Baum's death in 1919. Hollywood was taking a crack at “Oz” as early as 1910 but, obviously, the 1939 version became one of the most famous movies in history. After the first book entered the public domain in 1953, only some extremely specific copyright stipulations kept anyone from trying to cash-in on the popularity of Baum's creation. Given the nature of these things, many of these derivative works are parodies, deconstructions, subversions, or reinventions. Gregory Maguire's 1995 novel “Wicked” was one such example, elaborating on the backstory of the Wicked Witch of the West. 

Maguire's book was also successful, spawning several sequels of its own, but would really break through when adapted into an enormously popular Broadway musical in 2003. Before “Wicked: The Musical” became a certified smash, a film adaptation was already being floated but demand enflamed afterwards. The gears started seriously turning towards a “Wicked” movie in 2012  It took until last year for the movie of the musical of the book, based on a separate movie and book, to arrive in theaters. Predictably, this “Wicked” has also been a box office hit. That success has been further validated with ten Academy Awards nominations. Some, however, have dared to suggest that the director of “Justin Bieber: Never Say Never,” “G.I. Joe: Retaliation,” and “Jem and the Holograms” might have made a subpar film. “Wicked” is far from the most contested nominee of 2025 but, amid an exhaustingly massive advertising push, the merits of the adaptation remain hotly debated. 

“Wicked” begins after the end of the story as we know it, with the Land of Oz celebrating the death of the Wicked Witch of the West. When pressed about the rumor that she once knew her, Glinda the Good Witch recalls the story of the Wicked Witch and their history together. Turned green from her mother drinking a potion while pregnant, Elphaba was ostracized by her family. She developed strange powers and an interest in magic as she aged. Eventually, she set off to attend the Shiz University with her wheelchair bound sister, Nessarose. Elphaba's dream is to meet the Wizard of Oz and have him cure her greenness. Her roommate, the popular Galinda, resents Elphaba at first but pretends to befriend, in hopes of leeching off her academic success. The friendship slowly becomes genuine, the two eventually earning an invitation to meet the Wizard in the Emerald City... That's when things start to go horribly wrong.

The idea of retelling a popular story, especially a fairy tale, from the perspective of the villain was hardly a fresh idea in 1995 when Maguire published his book. I guess John Gardner's “Grendel” is the modern codifier of a concept that stretches back to at least “Paradise Lost.” The popularity of “Wicked” on-stage is probably responsible for the concept proliferating so much over the last two decades. “Wicked's” influence is such that Disney has already stolen its valor at least twice, meaning the belated film version can't help but feel a bit old hat. That's honestly not the biggest problem I have with “Wicked” and other switch-a-roos. Mostly, these kind of villain origin stories bug me because they inevitably approach the idea in the least interesting fashion possible. Instead of showing how someone with possibly good intentions fell towards the path of evil, or how they justify their own actions, these films usually lazily flip the script and do little else. The bad guys are now good. The good guys are now bad. No deeper introspection is required.

I guess “Wicked” isn't as bad about that as, say, “Maleficent” was. However, it still has a childishly simple moral outlook. Elphaba has a rigorously detailed back story that makes her sympathetic, cast out of her home and ostracized because of circumstances beyond her control. To dumb down the idea further, “Wicked” adopts a high school-like mentality. Elphaba is a bullied outsider while Galinda is shallow, self-centered, manipulative, and very pink. It's the kind of “goths vs. preps” viewpoint that you would have hoped we, as a culture, had outgrown by now. In order to re-enforce the idea that Elphaba is ultimately justified in everything she does, she is born with unexplained magical powers, a type of telekinesis that flares up when ever she's emotional. There's never any doubt about her righteousness. She's “special” and persecuted and, the people we've been told are the heroes of this tale will inevitably be revealed to be cruel and sanctimonious. 

Listen, I can understand why this dynamic is compelling. I was a relentlessly bullied nerd in high school too, growing up to see the obvious evil of authority. But such a simplified expression of this idea leaves no room for nuance. In “Wicked,” this inevitably bends towards an in-no-way subtle moral about prejudice. Elphaba is, after all, ostracized mostly for the color of her skin. The film invents a story of injustice in the land of Oz, of the talking animals becoming a persecuted underclass. Elphaba's path towards villainy is ultimately motivated by wanting to protect the talking animals of Oz, further emphasized by the Wizard being revealed to be a con man. I feel that comparing any societal minority to animals is not the best look. Either way, any lesson “Wicked” has is strictly of the heavy-handed variety. The script identifies that the ruling class of Oz are using the talking animals as a scapegoat for their own failings. Yes, that's how it works but maybe don't literally have the characters state that. Maybe don't make one of the innocent bystanders a literal goat. 

Perhaps going into “Wicked” and expecting any degree of subtly is my failing. That's not the point of a production such as this. Much like the Broadway musical it's based on, this is a production of crushing excess. The costumes are extravagant, growing more outrageous as the film goes on. Every production number is full of elaborate dancing. The sets are detailed and massive, further outfitted with flashy CGI effects. The camera swoops in and around these locations. Several moments in “Wicked” are indicative of its maximalist approach. The introductory song for Elphaba's love interest involves a library full of spinning ladders through a tunnel-like collection of books. When singing “Popular,” Galinda's collection of shoes and gowns pop out like a huge clockwork device. By the time we arrive in the Emerald City, “Wicked” is a full-blown spectacle of singing, dancing, special effects, and wild costumes. And it goes on and on, the film running for nearly three hours.

That boated runtime somehow doesn't enable “Wicked” to tell a complete story. This is a part one, as the title screen reminds us. The ending is less a conclusion and more of an act break. Weirdly, despite such an extensive run time, “Wicked” feels punishingly lopsided. Elphaba and Galinda get more character development in the last thirty minutes than they do in the proceeding 130 minutes. The closest thing this narrative has to a bead of emotional truth is the future Wicked and Good Witches developing from enemies to close friends. Unfortunately, Galinda is characterized so thinly that her switch from hating to loving Elphaba does not feel naturally. And I mean “loving,” as the film waste no time in teasing the shoujo-ai fans in the audience. Arianna Grande, adopting a Miss Piggy-like demeanor, can't make the character anything but an unconvincing caricature. Moreover, any real emotional resonance to this story is lost as the film has to interrupt any quiet moment with another action set piece, another blast of CGI effects, or another lung-busting high-note in the umpteenth show stopping song. 

I suppose it could not be more obvious that, simply put, I am extremely not in the target audience for “Wicked.” I've never seen the stage show and have no familiarity, or built-in affection, for this production. The film is clearly catering to fans of the stage show, including an extended cameo for the original stars that the already lumbering pace grinds to a halt to showcase. Generally speaking, I find the Broadway style of musical theater, that focuses on constant splendor and reaching-to-the-rafters singing, to be overwhelming. I guess the songs aren't bad. “Popular” is the catchiest number. A lot of the songs blend instantly together in my memory. Each one occurs at the exact calculated moment in the stories where they will be most powerful. “Defying Gravity” is the closing number, ostensibly Elphaba self-realizing, but the film rushes into it so heavily, laying a lot of groundwork within only a few scenes, that it made me feel nothing. 

Cynthia Erivo is fine in the lead, I suppose. Jeff Goldblum is well cast as the Wizard of Oz, doing what you expect of him. Michelle Yeoh is lost among the flashy costumes, deafening music, and unending CGI. The sets, especially the elaborate Emerald City props, are impressive. The cinematography, so drab looking in the trailers, admittedly is not so brown and grey in execution. I guess this kind of ever-escalating type of filmmaking hits hard for people who enjoy this kind of thing. People who hate slasher movies or martial arts flicks probably wouldn't get anything out of “Freddy Vs. Jason” or “The Raid: Redemption,” while I'd argue for those films giving me exactly what I want. I have no doubt that “Wicked: Part 1” gave people who love the stage show and Broadway musicals already exactly what they want too. Good for you guys but I cannot count myself among you. “Wicked” was a numbing experience for me. [5/10]

Wednesday, January 29, 2025

OSCARS 2025: The 2025 Oscar-Nominated Animated Shorts



The first of two stop-motion shorts from the Netherlands this year, “Beautiful Men” follows three brothers: The pudgy and shy Koen, the more athletic and outgoing Bart, and the neurotic Steven. They are linked by all of them being bald. The trio is in Istanbul, currently awaiting hair transplant operations. That's when Steven realizes he screwed up the booking and only one surgery will be performed. While milling around the hotel the day before the operation, a choice must be made over which of the three of them most “deserves” to have a full head of hair.

“Beautiful Men” is clearly about masculine insecurities. Koen struggles to do a single push-up and is concerned he has a growth on his testicles, which he asks Steven to take a closer look at. Bart is shown repeatedly attempting to coordinate a sexy video date with a woman, that always gets interrupted. Instead of really commenting on this idea in any concrete way, Nicolas Keppens' film mostly snickers at them by repeatedly putting the trio into homoerotic scenarios. Steven examing Koen's testicle happens in a public bathroom stall, the entire moment looking a lot like some oral sex is about to be performed. Bart spends nearly the entire short with no pants on and his stop-motion penis hanging out. A hug between the two guys is a key moment. The narrative thrust is evident: These three men need the support of each other to truly feel accepted, not long flowing locks.

Unfortunately, “Beautiful Men” barely does anything with this set-up. A dramatic event happens in the last third, setting up an ironic ending that... Goes absolutely nowhere, the final scene ending the story on an absolute shrug. While the situations are certainly awkward, I can't say I found this one all that funny or insightful. Perhaps the Academy voters are more impressed by the sight of cartoon male frontal nudity than I am. The stop motion animation is very well done, the characters looking disturbingly life-like at times while remaining exaggerated. There's some very cinematic camera angles and nice use of fog. But this one truly left me scratching my head. [5/10] 



In a minimalistic, seemingly Middle Eastern landscape, a bearded man and his daughter live in a simple house on the beach. After he has a violent outburst, the daughter decides to leave the next morning. That is when she finds a whale beached outside. The two try to drag the whale back into the ocean but have no success. The man begins to live on a boat nearby, his daughter still frightened of him. He is haunted by memories of a violent past while the woman attempts to care for the beach the best she can. Soon, their rescue attempts of the massive animal and their tense relationship come to a head. 

"In the Shadow of the Cypress" is one of those animated shorts full of visual symbolism that clearly means something. The setting is dream-like, a single house on a flat stretch of sand that isn't clearly a beach until we see the ocean and the whale. The characters' physical forms shift with their emotional state. When the girl leaves, the man turns into flower petals and embraces her. Later, his skin changes to grey when he starts to feel sad or upset. The woman melts like ice cream on the sidewalk during a later scene. These surreal touches pair with a vague storyline, told without any spoken dialogue. I wasn't sure, at first, if the woman was the man's wife or daughter. Their exact relationship and history is only hinted at. Whether he's abusive or mentally ill is up to the viewer until the film is all but over. Moreover, the beached whale clearly means something as well, some sort of emotional baggage between the two. When the flashback arrives, it features the man shooting at a jet fighter. The plane is more realistically rendered than the rest of the short – which looks like that corporate art style you saw everywhere a few years back – and that brings a political undercurrent to these symbols. Directors Hossein Molayemi and Shinrin Sohani are Iranian, the film presumably reflects the strife of the war torn parts of that country. 

What we are supposed to take from all this is a lot harder to determine. The plot synopsis describes "In the Shadow of the Cypress" as a film about PTSD, which is not immediately apparent. The surreal setting and allegoric writing makes it hard to tell if the story is set in the modern day, making any political reading difficult. The strife between the man and woman is clearly because of his deteriorating health but we have no attachment to any of these characters, who operate more as unclear symbols than people. This doesn't give me a lot to hold onto in "In the Shadow of the Cypress." The scene where the girl sticks a funnel in the whale's mouth and pours water in made me chuckle. The increasingly abstract animation, most apparent during what I presume is a PTSD flashback, is certainly impressive. However, this one mostly felt like a peek into a bigger, incomplete story that is intentionally obscured with interpretable artistic choices. It's interesting, I suppose, but I didn't get a lot out of it. [6/10]



The Animated Feature branch of the Academy overlooked a number of fine films from Japan this year but at least one sneaked into the Animated Shorts category. Not that “Magic Candies” looks much like most people's conception of “anime.” It follows Dong-Dong, a young boy who is often alone but swears it doesn't bother him. He picks up a pack of strangely colored marbles at the store before being informed that they are actually magical candies. Each one has a unique pattern and, when Dong-Dong pops them into his mouth, he can suddenly communicate with whatever matches the pattern on the candy. First, it's the sofa, which asks him to remove the remote from his side. Next, the aging family dog gets a chance to explain to Dong-Dong why they can't play the way they used to before reflecting on their time together. The third gumball enables him to hear the affectionate thoughts of his otherwise strict father. Slowly, the magical properties of each gumball brings Dong-Dong out of his shell.

“Magic Candies” comes from Toei Animation and Daisuke Nishio, who has spent most of his career directing episodes of various “Dragon Ball” and “Pretty Cure” series. Despite that, “Magic Candies” is brought to life through a clever combination of stop-motion animation and CGI. The characters and environments all have a tactile quality to them, the fabric of the couch looking properly shaggy, the pours in the people's skin visible. The character have an oddball appearance that smartly borders the line between cute and ugly. The creativity extends to how the film communicates some of its ideas. When Dong-Dong chews on the candy, he often sees the kanji of what is trying to talk to him float through the air. In the penultimate sequence, in which falling autumn leaves each say good-bye to the boy, “Magic Candies” reaches a level of genuine beauty too.

Story wise, it's a short and sweet endeavor. The emotion is never heavy-handed, the film staying quiet and subtle when Dong-Dong is talking to the spirit of his deceased grandmother or reminiscing about the good days with the elderly family pet. This makes the emotion that does appear – such as the connection the boy finds with his dad – feel all the more earned. It leads towards a predictable but equally sweet ending, making this into a nice little fable about how the world opens up to you if you're willing to listen. When combined with the lovely visuals, “Magic Candies” stands out as probably my favorite of this year's crop of animated shorts. [8/10]



The second stop motion Dutch short of the night featuring a surprisingly amount of on-screen male nudity is “Wander to Wonder.” It concerns the stars of an eighties children show with the same title, in which a live action host has conversations and shares life lessons with a trio of fuzzy little creatures named Fumbleton, Mary, and Billybud. Unfortunately, “Uncle Gilly” seems to have dropped dead in the middle of recording and nobody has checked on his friends in all the time since. They continue to wander around the empty, abandoned studio. Mary continues to video tape lessons for an out-of-reach audience, while Billybud has developed a fixation with Shakespeare. As their limited food resources run dry, Mary begins to wonder how the three of them will survive for much longer. 

The central joke of “Wander to Wonder” is one we've seen countless times before: What if we contrasted the sugary, cutesy world of children's programming with depravity or other types of darkness? At least there seems to be an actual point here beyond that. There is definitely something melancholy about these three miniature homunculi attempting to carry on as usual, despite literally being surrounded by death and decay. A scene in which Mary reads what must be a decades-old fan letter is my favorite in the film. The puppets and environments have a likably grungy quality to them. The idea that, say, the Neighborhood of Make Believe puppets or the muppets on “Sesame Street” were played by tiny actors who are now forced to fend for themselves is one with potential, for both humor and pathos.

Sadly, like a lot of the shorts this year, “Wander to Wonder” never seems to arrive at any sort of point. Yes, there's a tiny sculpted dick flopping around in this one too, as the short moves towards something like a conclusion to its story. Albeit one that doesn't resolve anything nor tell us much about where these three will wind up. Mary and the clumsy Fumbleton retain the personalities they had on the show, which is a fun idea. That Billy has developed into a seemingly insane actor, however, spoils that premise. Considering how open-ended both the beginning and end of “Wander to Wonder” is, it feels more like a pitch for a feature film than a self-contained story in its own right. Another one I have to assume was nominated more so for the quality of its animation than for its narrative merits, though I came away liking it more than “Beautiful Men.” [6/10]



At least the night ends on a suitably adorable note. “Yuck!” is a French, hand-drawn short set at a vacation camp. The little kids, dragged their with their parents and older siblings, all love to point and tease whenever they catch the grown-ups kissing. In this world, people's lips glow pink and sparkle whenever the desire to kiss arises. And the little kids think it's just the grossest, ickiest thing in the whole wide world, never letting a chance to declare this feeling go by. Among the girl of kids is Leo and Lucy. As much as they react with disgust to the sight of kissing, both of them are actually curious about it. At night, when left alone, they finally get a chance to see what the big deal is all about.

“Yuck!” does a nice job of capturing an memorable time in many people's lives, when the vaguest inklings of romance – sex being totally beyond the mind's frame of reference at that point – is an object of both curiosity and caution. The kids are obviously fascinated by kissing but can't find any other way to express that other than exaggerated disgust. It's an easily understood behavior that this short captures quite nicely. Despite expressing how gross they find kissing, these kids sure do think about it constantly! Within the opening minutes, you figure out that Leo and Lucy aren't actually so repulsed by kissing. It's a natural part of childhood, developing a slow and totally innocent interest in romance or whatever passes for it in your still-growing kid brain. 

The animation in “Yuck!” is bright and colorful, the character designs having a slight Ghibli influence in how expressive their mouths and eyes are. The surreal touch, of lips glowing when a desire to kiss emerges, leads to several delightful moments. Such as when Leo spies two soccer bros looking at game footage together and their own lips glowing. I like the idea that attraction and desire can be obvious on someone's face, no matter how hard they may work to disguise them. It leads to a cute, rather lyrical conclusion. “Yuck!” doesn't break any new ground but it's charming and cute, a well observed snapshot of a less cynical time in life. [7/10]

Tuesday, January 28, 2025

OSCARS 2025: Anora (2024)


The depiction of sex workers on-screen is almost as embattled as the topic itself. Questions of if it can be empowering or is inherently degrading or whatever are magnified when filtered through an artistic lens. Clichés like the hooker with a heart of gold, the sex worker as disposable victim, and a broken bird that must be saved by a good man have proven hard to kill. Questions such as "Can you depict sex work in film without exploiting the actress involved?" and whether it's right for a man to write such a story have been enraged again by "Anora," Sean Baker's latest gritty drama. After winning the Palme d'Or at Cannes, it's been collecting accolades throughout awards season on its way to six Academy Award nominations. While many love the film, some dismiss it as another innately wrong-headed story of life as a sex worker created by a clueless man. Speaking as a clueless man myself, I'm sure I'll have nothing meaningful to add to this conversation but I might as well take a crack at it. 

Ani works as a stripper in a Brighton Beach club, where under-the-table transactions between the dancers and the customers are common. As the only girl in the club who speaks Russian, she's invited to entertain Ivan "Vanya" Zakharov, a Russian young man ostensibly studying in the States. The two hit it off and Ani agrees to see Ivan in his home, which turns out to be a mansion. Shortly afterwards, he offers her ten thousand dollars to act as his girlfriend for a week and travel to Las Vegas with him. While there, Ivan reveals that he soon has to return to Russia to work for his father... But if he marries an American, he'll get a green card and can stay. Impulsively, Ani and Ivan wed in a Vegas chapel. What is supposed to be her ticket to a better life quickly falls apart. Ivan is the son of a Russian oligarch and, upon learning that their son has married a stripper, they send several henchmen to investigate. Ivan flees, leaving Ani with the men. The group go on a journey to find the young man, under orders to get the marriage annulled. Ani doesn't intend to go along with this easily, discovering much more about her new husband, and bonding with the most sensitive of Zakharov body guards. 

Sean Baker has come a long way from his "Greg the Bunny" days, having since established a cinematic brand for himself. A Sean Baker movie is a slice-of-life story about the poor and struggling, often sex workers, trying to navigate the seemingly impossible barriers to a better life. In the past, I've found his movies straddle the line of so-called poverty porn a bit too much for my taste. However, "Anora" is less about the dismal facts of its title character's life than the specific issues of class disparity she faces. As the son of a billionaire, Ivan can devote his life to partying, playing video games, and call girls. The mere suggestion of actual responsibility is enough to make him flee into the streets. Ani, meanwhile, has to hustle, literally, to make ends' meet. Some have questioned whether her declarations of live for Ivan are meant to be genuine or not, if she's another patronizing depiction of a sex worker swept away by an obvious rich asshole. To me, it goes without saying that Ani doesn't love Ivan, that she has her doubts about him from the beginning. However, he's still her best shot at entering a world of money and glamor. Whether she's deluding herself knowingly or not, "Anora" is clearly a movie about a woman trying to escape the life she's trapped in, a clear depiction of the lines separating the rich and the poor. 

Baker's film does focus a lot on what I guess you'd call the "local color" of his setting. The strip club Ani works at is full of women and men who communicate in colorful language, a palooka boss and nonbinary bouncer that she has playful banter with. This extends to a trashy rivalry with a jealous co-worker. Through its intimate and gritty cinematography, the film features plenty of casual drug use, sex and nudity, and antics among poverty-level eccentrics. It's debatable whether you find such depictions affectionate or exploitative, if we can take Baker's interest in these characters and their lives as empathetic or laced with a degree of "look at this crazy shit" glibness. That feeling peaks during a lengthy scene where Ivan – and the film and the audience – watch Ani perform a striptease. "Anora" is certainly a very funny movie, functioning as a comedy of errors in its second half as we watch the Russian tough guys haplessly navigate the Brighton Beach neighborhood they find themselves in. To my eyes, the enforcers of the rich seem to be the butt of the joke more often, while Baker is more sympathetic to the working class and what they must do to survive. Another brief example of that are the maids who clean Ivan's dad's mansion, who take a little extra cash as a tip in one scene. 

Maybe that suggests an attitude of "the rich are rich, the poor are poor, and the latter can only do whatever they can to survive." That's not the most progressive of viewpoints, though given the state of the world, not a necessarily incorrect one. However, simply as a character piece, I ultimately found "Anora" charming and touching. This is largely thanks to Mikey Madison – cast after Baker saw her in "Scream 5," suggesting he's a horror fan and forcing me to like him more – as the title character. Adopting a perpetually amusing Harley Quinn accent, Madison makes Ani a fighter. When the oligarch's errands boy enter the mansion, Ani quickly goes on the offensive. This escalates into a sequence of delightful slapstick, with her tossing a Menorah and kicking a guy through a glass coffee table. Ani is the kind of girl that my mom would call "a pistol." She's loud-mouthed. She speaks her mind. She's not ashamed of the life she lives. She stands up for herself, smacking the most deadpan of the henchmen. 

Madison doesn't give a superficial, caricatured performance though. Through her soulful eyes, Madison expresses Anora's hopes and fears. What if Ivan truly can give her a life of riches and relaxation? Her joy at having achieved this dream is impossible not to be swept up in. She demands to be treated better, asking for a big ol' ring from her rich husband or instructing him on how to be better in bed. Similarly, as the second half goes on, we watch the hope drain out of her face as she inevitably faces the realization that she's been cheated. Ani doesn't stop fighting then either – standing up and declaring herself an impossible to ignore force of nature when faced with Ivan's parents – and I can't help but admire that. I've known women like this and Madison's hilarious, intuitive performance is a tribute to them. Ani is a fully realized character, that is ultimately impossible not to like. 

That we are following her on this journey, through some very high highs and some dispiriting lows, allows "Anora" to pull off a fine tonal balancing act. The extended sequence of her continually overwhelming a pair of Russian tough guys grows funnier as it goes on. Similarly, watching these guys struggle to explore her world and repeatedly make fools of themselves, is the source of some good laughs. Karren Karagulian, as the Armenian Toros, especially emerges as a straight man repeatedly humiliated by being thrust into this situation he has so little control over. As Ani stands up to Ivan and his parents, we are allowed to cheer for her in her own way. Ani is defiant and that brings smiles of its own. 

On the other hand, "Anora" slowly moving towards tragedy unexpectedly touched me. Yura Borisov plays Igor, the soft-spoken member of the men sent after Ivan. The Moscow born Borisov has the kind of appearance that has unsurprisingly led to a career of playing criminals, soldiers, and bad guys. As Igor, that appearance covers an observant, soft-spoken, and eventually kind nature. Watching him and Ani unexpectedly bond, especially during the extended last act of the film, was one of the biggest surprises of "Anora." The script avoids uncomfortable subtext by never suggesting Igor is the "good man" that will "save" Ani, the sole decent guy in a film full of jerks. He tears Ani with respect though and accepts her a person, not for her lot in life. The final scene has her trying to thank him for that kindness in the way she's most accustomed to and him refusing to treat her as a product to be exploited. It's quietly devastating and touching in its own way, 

I'll have to get back to you on whether or not Sean Baker is a pretentious fraud or not. How many more movies about sex workers does he get to make before it starts to feel weird? And I'm certainly in no position to declare whether "Anora" is sufficiently sensitive enough or feminist in the exact right way. However, it strikes me as a well realized portrait of an unforgettable character, brilliantly brought to life by Madison in a star-making performance. The film is equal parts funny and sad, a detailed depiction of life at two ends of the economical spectrum. Ani is charming and so is the movie about her and charm sure goes a long way. [8/10]