Photo caption: Lou Reed in THE VELVET UNDERGROUND. Courtesy of AppleTV.
It’s rare for a documentary film to immerse the audience as deeply into a time and place as does Todd Haynes’ The Velvet Underground. Even if you’re not a fan of the band, you’ll appreciate this sensory dive into a cultural moment.
Haynes takes the time to bio the two artistic driving forces of the Velvet Underground, the avant-garde musicologist John Cale and the troubled song-writing prodigy Lou Reed. Equally essential is the world of Andy Warhol’s The Factory.
The Velvet Underground is exceptionally richly sourced, with load of file footage and photos and a host of eyewitnesses, especially the surviving band members John Cale and Maureen Tucker. and in this cultural moment.
But it’s the LOOK and FEEL and SOUND of the film which is so singular. That’s because Haynes, a filmmaker known for the lush and evocative Far from Heaven and Carol, has brought his sensibilities to bear on a documentary. And because the artists in Warhol’s circle left such a film record.
The Velvet Underground is in theaters and streaming on AppleTV.
Photo caption: BECOMING COUSTEAU. Courtesy of National Geographic.
The educational if not scintillating biodoc Becoming Cousteau traces the world-changing career of Jacques-Yves Cousteau.
This was an important man. Before Cousteau, we looked at the oceans the way that humans had regarded them for centuries – based on what was on their surface and at their edges. The vastness of the oceans gave them a mask of invulnerability.
Becoming Cousteau tells how Cousteau, a pilot recovering from a motoring accident, became one of one three free divers in France before WWII, and how he was involved with or responsible himself for the invention of the aqualung, undersea stations, the underwater movie camera and his scientific ship Calypso.
Fortunately, Cousteau’s second passion was cinema, which allowed him to reveal the undersea world to the general public. He strongly preferred to call his work adventure film instead of documentary. (The cinematographer for Cousteau’s breakthrough 1956 film was Louis Malle, only two years before Malle’s own breakthrough masterpiece Elevator to the Gallows.)
That allowed Cousteau to become the great popularizer of ocean science through his ABC series The Undersea World of Jacques Cousteau.
Becoming Cousteau shows us how, at first, Cousteau had the explorer’s outlook of conquering the elements – but evolved into an ecologist. Cousteau canoodled with the oil industry in the 1950s, which he regretted in the 1970s. The preservation of Antarctica may be his enduring legacy.
Becoming Cousteau is dotted with some revealing tidbits such as how his first wife Simone was in love with Calypso and lived there, while Cousteau was on the road and their sons were in boarding school.
I am usually entranced by documentaries as superbly sourced and revelation-filled as Becoming Cousteau, but I found it a bit of a yawner. Twice Oscar-nominated director Liz Garbus packs a lot into 94 minutes, but it seems longer. Vincent Cassel voices Cousteau’s written words.
Valeria Bruni Tedeschi and Nadia Tereszkiewicz in ONLY THE ANIMALS. Courtesy of Cohen Media Group.
The ever-surprising Only the Animals is no ordinary mystery. After an opening sequence with a most unusual piggy-back ride, a wealthy woman (Valeria Bruni Tedeschi) disappears among the wintry cattle farms in France’s mountainous and sparsely inhabited Lozere highlands. We meet a series of local characters, each of whom may hold the key to the puzzle, as may the young hustler Armand (Guy Roger ‘Bibisse’ N’Drin), a world away in Côte d’Ivoire.
The intricately constructed story reveals elements of the mystery, from each character’s perspective in sequence. The first French character we meet is Alice (Laure Calamy) – cheery, good-hearted and goofy, with atrocious taste in men; Alice’s neediness leads her to make a poor decision. Then the others, whose behavior is motivated variously by obsessive infatuation, misdirected passion and psychotic delusion, plunge completely off the rails. Their individually random acts collect into a pool of perversion.
By the time we reach the satisfying conclusion, the audience has learned the what and the why (which the investigating police will never uncover), and the most seemingly disparate story lines have intersected.
The story comes from a novel by Colin Niel, adapted by Only the Animals’ director Dominik Moll, with Gilles Marchand. Moll and Marchand were nominated for the César (France’s Oscar equivalent) for adapted screenplay. (Niel himself has a cameo at the agricultural coop’s store counter.)
Laure Calamy and Denis Ménochet in ONLY THE ANIMALS. Courtesy of Cohen Media Group.
The story is the real star of Only the Animals, but the cast is superb. Tedeschi is marvelous as the worldly woman with a private reason to get away to her husband’s rural getaway, especially when she flashes the briefest instant of anger. Calamy, recently in Sibyl and My Donkey My Lover and I, is one of my favorite international comic actresses. Denis Ménochet, César-nominated for Custody, perhaps the best ever domestic violence drama, plays Alice’s boorish and secretive husband Michel. Damien Bonnard plays Joseph, a damaged loner with an underestimated psychosis.
Nadia Tereszkiewicz plays the young waitress Marion, who turns a one night stand into a disturbing infatuation. This is only the fifth feature and third significant movie role for 25-year-old Tereszkiewicz. She now has four films in production or pre-production, including one directed by Tedeschi.
Guy Roger ‘Bibisse’N’Drin (left) in ONLY THE ANIMALS. Courtesy of Cohen Media Group.
N’Drin and the other key Ivorian players – Perline Eyombwan, and Christian Ezan – are also excellent.
The surprises keep popping up until the final shot. Only the Animals opens this weekend in a limited theatrical release, which will soon include the Bay Area’s Landmark Shattuck.
Photo caption: Ingvar Hilmir Snær and Noomi Rapace in LAMB. Courtesy of A24.
The very quiet drama Lamb is one of the most gripping films of the year, and one of the most unsettling. I’ve seen Lamb described as a horror film, but it is very unlike most of today’s horror films. I would rather label it as a dark, cautionary fable of karma with some supernatural elements.
It’s difficult to imagine a more pastoral setting than Lamb’s remote Icelandic sheep farm. Maria (Noomi Rapace) and Ingvar (Hilmir Snær Guðnason) run the farm with studied competence, caring for the sheep and maintaining their tractor. No neighbors are in sight. Neither the routine nor the isolation burdens them; they are comfortable with and enjoy each other’s company.
One of their routine tasks is birthing lambs. We see that Maria and Ingvar have an established division of labor and confidence. We think we know what to expect until a lamb is birthed and Maria and Ingvar’s reaction shows that this newborn is anything but normal.
It’s remarkable that the two never debate what to do or consult experts. They both immediately fall into behaving in complete alignment. But we suspect that they are not behaving as most people would.
Writer-director Valdimar Jóhannsson is such an able story-teller, that he doesn’t show us the lamb’s body right away, and we have to surmise what’s going on by the reactions of the characters. When Ingvar’s nogoodnik bother Petur (Björn Hlynur Haraldsson) shows up uninvited, he brings with fresh eyes and asks WTF?
Jóhannsson uses the starkly beautiful but menacing Icelandic landscape to fill us with foreboding. Something is not right here. And there will come a reckoning.
Lamb drove me to the dictionary to review the meanings of the word monster. In Lamb, there is a creature who fits under the definition, but which is pure and sweet. Another creature is the terrifying kind of monster. And a human takes an action that is normal from a human point of view, but from a monster’s perspective is, well, monstrous.
The cast (and this is really a three-hander) is excellent. You may recognize Rapace as the pierced-and-inked Lisbeth Salander in the Swedish Girl with the Dragon Tattoo franchise.
Lamb is the first feature for Valdimar Jóhannsson – and it is a superb debut. You haven’t seen anything like this movie before.
I went to a James Bond movie and a romance broke out. No Time to Die, a fitting farewell to Daniel Craig’s reign as James Bond, has all the action set pieces, fantastic gizmos and exotic locations that you would want in a Bond film; it all just comes down to his profound love for a woman.
Remember when the Bond formula was impossibly sexy woman beds James Bond and then tries to kill him; repeat. In No Time to Die, however, there are no disposable women.
Bond, retired from the British MI6, is living in domestic bliss in Southern Italy with his girlfriend Madeleine Swann (Léa Seydoux) from the previous Bond movie, Spectre. Bond is also grieving for the redeemed double agent of past Bond films, Vesper Lynd (most recently played by Eva Green); on the suggestion of Madeleine, who is a psychiatrist, he visits Vesper’s grave – but an assassination attempt kicks off the action in No Time to Die.
Besides Madeleine and Vesper, Bond faces another woman, his own replacement in MI6’s new Agent 007 Lashana Lynch. 007 is talented and cocky, and Bond and 007 slide effortlessly into comradeship. Ana de Armas is very funny as the supposedly inexperienced agent Paloma in a set piece (in de Armas’ native Cuba) – lethal in a stunning Bond Girl dress.
But No Time to Die revolves around Bond’s relationship with Madeleine. Madeleine’s father was also a hunter of super villains, and she has as many secrets as Bond. So, Madeleine’s reliability comes into question, and the oft-betrayed Bond certainly has justification for his trust issues. Bond once ruefully mutters, “No – I don’t know her at all.” Can Bond summon the trust that is requisite to love?
Don’t worry – the action set pieces are spectacular, particularly the once before the opening titles. That one features perhaps the most impressive deployment ever of the Bondmobile.
There’s also a super villain (Rami Malek) with a biological weapon of mass destruction. There’s a lot of blah blah about how this weapon works, and then more blah blah between the supervillain and Madeleine. And then Bond has a face-to-face with the previous supervillain, Blofeld (Cristolph Waltz) with more blah blah. I started to doze during this part of No Time to Die, but soon we were plunging back into another thrilling action.
Neither supervillain is as entertaining as the traitorous agent Logan Ash (Billy Magnussen), an ever smiling bro boy so white bread that he is referred to as “Book of Mormon”.
IMO Sean Connery was essential to the Bond franchise by creating a studly character so arrogant yet sympathetic – the guy who men want to be and women want to be with. Movie James Bonds have come and gone; (Pierce Brosnan was good, I never saw the Timothy Dalton Bond movies, and my least favorite Bond was the brattily insouciant Roger Moore.) To me, Daniel Craig is every bit as good as Connery. Craig has the requisite physicality, confidence and sex appeal, while off-loading a Connery’s hint of brutishness and adding a sad tint of world-weariness.
The Bond franchise itself is remarkable. Mick LaSalle recently wrote:
…The key to its resiliency is that it has changed with the times, yet never so much that it fully lost contact with what initially made it popular. This amazing balancing act has played out for 59 long years. (To give you a sense of how long that is in movie time, 59 years before the first Bond movie, “Dr. No,” it was 1903.)
No Time to Die is ably directed by the Bay Area’s own Cary Joji Fukunaga (Sin Nombre, Beasts of No Nation, True Detective). No Time to Die is epic and is the keystone to Daniel Craig’s run as James Bond.
Michael Gandolfini and Alessandro Nivola in THE MANY SAINTS OF NEWARK
In the The Many Saints of Newark, David Chase’s prequel to The Sopranos, we get a peek inside the world that formed Tony Soprano. It’s pretty good.
Set when Tony Soprano was a high schooler, The Many Saints of Newark centers on Tony’s favorite “uncle”, mobster Dickie Moltisanti (and moltisanti is Italian for Many Saints). Dickie is played by Alessandro Nivola, who has had important, but supporting, roles in plenty of good movies (Junebug, Ginger & Rosa, American Hustle, A Most Violent Year, Selma). Here, he plays the story’s protagonist, charming and smarter than the average goon, and also capable of sudden, irrevocable violence.
Dickie and Tony are not really related, but, while Tony’s dad is incarcerated, his mob colleague Dickie is looking after his family. When we meet Tony’s sulking brute of a dad (Jon Bernthal) and his nightmare of a mom (Vera Farmiga), it’s clear why Dickie is young Tony’s role model.
Michael Gandolfini, James Gandolfini’s son, plays the young Tony. Beyond the resemblance to James Gandolfini’s adult Tony, the kid can act. He’s good, but the lead is Nivola.
Ray Liotta plays Dickie Moltisanti’s dad, Hollywood Dick Moltisanti. I don’t personally KNOW Ray Liotta, so I will refrain from saying that he can play mobsters effortlessly or that’s he’s a natural. Let’s just say that Liotta makes his mobster performances LOOK effortless. Here, his Hollywood Dick, returning home from an Italian holiday with a trophy bride, is filled with gusto. There’s also a bonus Liotta performance as a related, but much different, second character.
There’s enough in The Many Saints of Newark to show us how Silvio Dante, Big Pussy and Paulie Walnuts, all a few years older than Tony Soprano, would come to accept Tony as he crew leader. And there’s a big reveal about the extent of Uncle Junior’s (Corey Stoll) vindictiveness.
The Many Saints of Newark includes a depiction of the 1967 Newark riots, rising Black consciousness and the changing demographics of Newark and its suburbs,
Has there ever been better episodic television than The Sopranos? Breaking Bad and The Wire can stake their claims, but it’s clear that The Sopranos sets the standard.
The David Chase-crafted story of Dickie Moltisanti would allow The Many Saints of Newark to stand on its own as entertainment. For fans of The Sopranos, however, it’s even more insightful and evocative.
The Many Saints of Newark is in theaters and streaming on HBO Max.
Photo caption: Tim Blake Nelson in OLD HENRY. Courtesy of Shout! Factory.
The fine western Old Henry is centered on Henry (Tim Blake Nelson), a widowed settler in the wilds of 1906 Oklahoma. Henry is content with being a solitary sod buster, but he has serious skills from a violent past, and both the past and the skills are unknown to his teen son (Gavin Lewis). The son is brash and impulsive, and desperate to escape the drudgery and isolation of the homestead.
A man badly wounded by a gunshot (Scott Haze) turns up with a satchel full of cash ( (obviously contraband). Henry nurses him, and chooses to hide him when three armed men show up, led by Ketchum ( Stephen Dorff), who claims to be a sheriff. Ketchum knows that his target is in Henry’s cabin, and he recognizes that Henry is more than a dirt farmer. When Ketchum returns with reinforcements, a climactic gun battle is inevitable.
One wild card is the wounded man, with his uncertain identity and motives. Another is the son, rigorously sheltered by Henry and ignorant of the cost of real violence. He’s spoiling to get into a fight – and that is not helpful.
Tim Blake Nelson, with nary a wasted word or action, commands the screen as the ever steely Henry. I saw Old Henry in personat the Nashville Film Festival, where Nelson revealed that his performance was informed by “restraint and stillness” because, for Henry, “any exposure means vulnerability”. So, Blake made Henry “laconic in actions as well as words”.
Nelson is a magnificent actor, who has elevated many a character role (Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?). Here he gets the lead role in a movie that premiered at the Venice Film Festival. Good for him.
Old Henry is the the first feature written and directed by Potsy Ponciroli. And it’s a well-crafted film. The filmmakers get the period right. The art direction and the production design are flawless, and the weapons have the necessary heft. Old Henry was filmed on a cattle farm in Tennessee, but it sure looks like Oklahoma.
If you appreciate a good western, then Old Henry is your movie. The big shootout is thrilling, and Tim Blake Nelson is so good as a man who knows he can’t have redemption and only seeks some solace. Old Henry is now playing nationally, including for one-week run at San Francisco’s Roxie.
Photo caption: Agathe Rousselle and Caddy in TITANE. Courtesy of NEON.
I don’t think I’ve ever before described a movie-going experience as “punishing”, but here goes. After being assaulted by the French sci fi horror film Titane, which purports to be two portraits of abnormal psychology, I felt beaten, even tortured.
The headstrong child Alexia causes an auto accident and gets a platinum plate in her skull. She grows into a stripper at car shows (Agathe Rousselle), and has a serious automobile fetish. In Titane’s most notorious scene, Alexia gives a new meaning to auto-eroticism by having sex with, and becoming impregnated by, a Cadillac.
Alexia is also a serial killer, and her second signature fetish is impaling her victims. She keeps a spike in her hair for this purpose, but a bar stool will suffice, too. One victim gets away and indemnified her, so Alexia changed her appearance and goes underground as a young man. Here, she happens on a beefy fire captain (Vincent Lindon), who is grieving for a son who disappeared ten years ago, and adopts Alexia as his long lost, now recovered, son.
Through much of Titane, we are asking WTF is going on? Writer-diretor Julia Ducournau keeps surprising us by piling on segments that are SO twisted and bizarre, that most of us could not imagine them.
Most of Titane is intentionally unpleasant to watch. Characters bleed blood, unless they bleed motor oil. Bones crunch, mouths froth and bellies are picked open. The murders are gory, and Alexia self mutilates as her pregnancy progresses, right up to an excruciating birth scene.
Oh, and let me be very clear about this, Titane is NOT a date movie.
The character of Alexia is just a bad seed, a feral maniac. The character of the troubled fire captain is also bizarre, but he’s more psychologically interesting. He insists that everyone else accept what is clearly a delusion. Does he understand that this is not his son?
Vincent Lindon in TITANE. Courtesy of NEON.
Lindon (who muscled up for the role) is superb in this crazy role, which requires him to exude command authority and also the deepest vulnerability. It’s a very brave performance, and it works, for example, in his solo dance to She’s Not There.
Myriem Akheddiou is also excellent in a brief scene as the mother of the fire captain’s missing child.
I know my share of American firefighters. They would be surprised by Titane’s French firefighters, who let off steam by getting high and holding raves in the firehouse, all hypnotically dancing to electronica.
Notably, Titane won the Palme d’Or at the 2021 Cannes Film Festival. While one of the two most prestigious prizes in cinema (along with the Best Picture Oscar), the Palme d’Or is no guarantee that a movie is great – or even watchable. On the positive side, recent winners have included the superb Parasite, Shoplifters, Amour, Blue Is the Warmest Color and 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days. On the unfathomably bad side, cinematic excrement like The White Ribbon, The Tree of Life, Dancer in the Dark, and now Titane – has also won.
The critical consensus is far too kind to Titane. Many critics correctly label what had come out of Julia Ducournau’s mind as “demented” and then credit her for the visual excess in telling an unbearably icky story. It’s just demented, excessive and icky.
Photo caption: Annie Clark (St. Vincent) and Carrie Brownstein in THE NOWHERE INN. Courtesy of IFC Films.
The Nowhere Inn is a comedy about the making of a fictional showbiz documentary. Carrie Brownstein (Portlandia) plays herself directing a documentary about her real life friend, the avant-garde musician Annie Clark, who performs as St. Vincent. (Bill Benz is the actual director of The Nowhere Inn.)
Now here’s the best part of The Nowhere Inn. We see snippets of St. Vincent’s dazzling performances. And, even when off stage, the camera loves Annie Clark and her magnetism
In The Nowhere Inn, Annie Clark sees herself, when not “on” as St. Vincent, as an introvert who gets pleasure from mundane pursuits like eating radishes. That creates tension with Brownstein, who needs more interesting back stage content for the doc. The two get increasingly annoyed with each other until Brownstein ambushes Clark with a situation that is too emotionally raw.
This is witty and all mildly amusing. And then The Nowhere Inn gets sillier, as Clark and a famous sexpot actress show up in black lingerie (the actress deadpans “Annie turned me gay”) and force Brownstein to film their amorous play. Then there’s a Texas segment which looks like a late night comedy sketch shoehorned in – which it is.
These are two smart and talented women, and the movie is maybe half as funny as they are. If you need a dose of St. Vincent’s sexy vibrancy, then watch her perform instead.
The Nashville Film Festival, opening today, has its share of high-profile movies (notably Spencer), but don’t miss the gems that are screening under the radar. Here are my picks, including the festival’s Must See film, Poser. These movies are why we go to film festivals.
POSER. Courtesy of Nashville Film Festival.
Poser: This deeply psychological portrait of an artistic wannabe among real artists is the Must See at this year’s Nashville Film Festival. Lennon (Sylvie Mix) reveres the underground music scene of Columbus, Ohio’s Old North (which she compares to Renaissance Florence). Her entrée is a podcast, which allows her to meet a panoply of local artists, including Bobbi Kitten, the charismatic front woman of the real life band Damn the Witch Siren. At first, we chuckle and cringe at Lennon, until it becomes apparent that a much darker personal plagiarism is afoot and Poser evolves into a thriller. A shot of the recording of a train’s sounds is indelibly chilling. Be prepared to be creeped out by Mix’s performance and to be dazzled by Bobbi Kitten. Poser is the first narrative feature for directors Ori Segev and Noah Dixon (Dixon wrote the screenplay), Mix, Kitten and damn near the entire cast and crew, and it’s packed with original music. Must See.
THE TALE OF KING CRAB. Courtesy of Nashville Film Festival.
The Tale of King Crab, a story-telling masterpiece from Italy, begins with old Italian guys rehashing a legend, correcting each other on the details. That story concerns Luciano (Gabriele Silli), the town’s smartest and most interesting man – and also the local drunk. Luciano fixates on a grievance – the closing of a shortcut for shepherds. In spite of his own anti-social bent (and matted beard), Luciano he falls into a romance. The grievance, the romance and his alcoholism combine to precipitate an accidental tragedy. We next see a sober and guilt-ridden Luciano searching for buried treasure at the barren tip of South America. This is an operatic fable, exquisitely told. The Tale of King Crab is the first narrative feature for writer-directors Alessio Rigo de Righi and Matteo Zoppis and for cinematographer Simone D’Arcangelo. D’Arcangelo’s work, in vibrant Lazio and desolate Tierra del Fuego, is stunning.
FAYE. Courtesy of Nashville Film Festival.
Faye:Filmmakers Kd Amond and Sarah Zanotti have ingeniously braided horror elements into an unexpectedly funny grief movie. Faye (Zanotti) is a best-selling author who is paralyzed by grief. She holes up at her editor’s vacation house in a Louisiana bayou to get herself writing again – her own personal Overlook Hotel. So, we have a woman isolated in a swamp, and she can hear things go bump in the night and the neighbors’ chainsaws. The first thing we notice about Faye is that she is talking to someone who isn’t there – her dead husband. As we listen to Faye (ironically, a self-help author) talking herself though the stages of grief, her sanity goes on a roller coaster and Faye takes on the look and feel of a horror movie. That idea, the exquisite editing and Zanotti’s’s performance makes spending 83 minutes with a neurotic woman eminently watchable.
CLEAN SLATE. Courtesy of Nashville Film Festival.
Clean Slate: In this clear-eyed documentary, Cassidy and Josh are living in a faith-based recovery program – the kind you need to avoid incarceration. They are working to make a short film about the program. It’s stressful enough to make an indie film – finding a no-budget cast and crew, braving torrential downpours while shooting exteriors, and wrangling a roadkill armadillo. But more than a movie is at stake with these guys – they’re both hanging on to their sobriety by their fingernails. Like living with an addict, Clean Slate has its heartbreaking moments. Over 23 million Americans are living in long-term recovery from addiction. Clean Slate is the rare film that explores the connection between relapse and recovery – and it’s a cliff hanger.
Here’s how to find these nuggets:
The Tale of King Crab is screening in-person at Nash Fest.
Poser and Faye are screening in-person and streaming within the Southeastern United States (Tennessee, Alabama, Georgia, Florida, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, North Carolina, and South Carolina).
Clean Slate is screening in-person and streaming within the United States.
Check out the program and buy tickets at the festival’s Film Guide. Watch this space for Nashville Film Festival recommendations (both in-person and on-line) and follow me on Twitter for the latest.
