In John Maringouin’s inventive satire Ghostbox Cowboy, we first meet Jimmy (David Zellner) in an American store, gazing at that aisle in every Walgreens or CVS that is filled entirely with crappy plastic gizmos made in China. We later learn that he’s thinking, “somebody is getting rich making this stuff and that person should be me.”
Wearing a cowboy hat for effect, Jimmy takes his small nest egg to the capitalist frontier of China and tries to re-invent himself as an entrepreneur. He has the prototype for an absolutely phony product, which he tries to pitch to young Chinese capitalists. Jimmy thinks that he can outsmart the locals because he is an American, but the joke is on him – he’s now the dumbest guy in China.
Jimmy doesn’t bother to learn any Mandarin, so he leans on or two shady, super-marginal ex-pats (Robert Longstreet – just great – and Specialist) to help him navigate the local scene. One of his “buddies” fleeces him, and Jimmy is hired by contemptuous Chinese when they need a Caucasian stand-in. As Jimmy is stranded near Mongolia, Ghostbox Cowboy gets mystical, and the cringe humor gives way to the surreal.
The filmmaking itself is a remarkable story. Ghostbox Cowboy was shot in the massive boomtowns around Dongguan, Guangzho and Shenzhen (each a city with a population between 8 and 15 million). Because the Chinese government frowns on critique cinema, Maringouin had to shoot on the sly, guerilla style. To photograph the illegal factories that manufacture knock-offs, he pretended to be a potential investor. Maringouin and his two SAG actors spent ten days in China, essentially pretending not to shoot a movie.
David Zellner in GHOSTBOX COWBOY
I saw Ghostbox Cowboy at Cinema Club Silicon Valley, with a Q&A with writer-director-camera operator John Maringouin. Bay Area filmmaker Maringouin wanted to focus on White entitlement, with a protagonist who adds no value of his own but imagines that he should still be “a participant” in China.
Ghostbox Cowboy was selected to play the Tribeca film festival and earned a NY TimesCritic’s Pick. Ghostbox Cowboy can be streamed on Amazon (included with Prime).
The slow-burn romantic tragedy The Souvenir is a study of a bad romantic choice, exacerbated by co-dependence.
In the 1980s Thatcher Era UK, Julie (Honor Swinton Byrne) is a 24-year-old Ken Loach wannabe trying to make her first socially aware film. She’s from a middle class background and has a set of artsy friends. She meets Anthony (Tom Burke), who affects the chalk-stripe pinstripe suits and the bored drawl of the upper classes, and says that he works at the Foreign Office. She is intrigued.
It’s an unusual courtship. He takes her to a stupefyingly posh tearoom. They visit an art gallery and deconstruct the Fragonard painting The Souvenir. But are these dates? Kinda dates? She lets him crash at her place. All of this precedes any physical intimacy or hint of passion. He wants her, but never pushes the pace. They do become lovers, and it turns out that he is not as he seemed. (Kudos to the trailer below for NOT spoiling Anthony’s biggest secret.)
This is a remarkable piece of filmmaking. Writer-director Joanna Hogg frames each shot exquisitely, and lets the characters’ feelings unspool before us. This is a movie with lots of stillness, and the stillness serves to amplify the emotional power.
This is the first feature film performance as an adult for Honor Swinton Byrne, the daughter of Tilda Swinton. Byrne is superb as Julie, whom we care about because she is so genuine and vulnerable. This is also the first time I’ve seen Tom Burke, and he is excellent as a quirky guy who might really appeal to some woman, but who can’t escape his fatal flaw. Tilda Swinton appears in the supporting role as Julie’s protective mom, and nails the character.
Joanna Hogg, just like her Julie, was a young British filmmaker in the 1980s, and this story seems searingly personal. I don’t know to what extent it is autobiographical, but the heartbreak is so powerfully vivid, that I hope Hogg didn’t have to endure it in real life. There’s a sequel already in post-production.
The Souvenir is universally acclaimed by critics and has a Metacritic score of 92. I admired the film and the filmmaking, but was not engrossed; most viewers will find the deliberate pace makes The Souvenir a challenging watch for one hour and 59 minutes. It certainly is the most profoundly sad film of the year. It can be streamed on Amazon, iTunes, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.
Guillaume Canet (left) and Vincent Macaigne in NON-FICTION
I finally got around to watching writer-director Olivier Assayas’ Non-Fiction. I had been eager to see it because I generally find the French actor Vincent Macaigne hilarious, and I will pretty much watch Juliette Binoche in anything. My conclusion: Olivier Assayas has wasted too many hours of my life, and I am over his films.
Non-Fiction is a comedy of manners that revolves around the once-successful novelist Leonard, whose books are very lightly disguised re-tellings of his own sordid romantic life, and Leonard’s publisher Alain (Guillaume Canet). Alain is married to Selena (Juliette Binoche), an actress in TV cop shows. Everybody sleeps with somebody else’s partner, and everyone wrings their hands over e-books, audio books, blogs and the impending death of the book industry. That’s about it. None of it is engaging.
In 2006, Assayas, a veteran screenwriter, wrote and directed an okay segment (the one with Maggie Gyllenhaal as an actress pining for her drug dealer) in the delightful anthology Paris, je t’aime. He followed it in 2008 with the fine family drama Summer Hours. And then, in 2011, he did the excellent true crime mini-series Carlos. This was a promising start, and he developed a fan base of admiring critics.
But since then, Assayas has wasted brilliant performances by Binoche and Kristen Stewart in the Clouds of Sils Maria and Personal Shopper – two muddled messes that masquerade as cinema. And now, the off-putting Non-Fiction. I am over this guy.
SPOILER: There is one funny moment in Non-Fiction, which I shall now spoil for you, so you won’t need to watch the movie. In the last quarter of the film, the characters decide to publish an audio book read by a celebrity, and they aspire to get Juliette Binoche (who is, of course, in this scene playing her character). I’ll concede that this is a genuinely witty moment, if self-referential.
Non-Fiction is now streaming on Amazon and other platforms.
Werner Herzog’s documentary Little Dieter Needs to Fly is a portrait of Dieter Dengler’s unimaginable life journey, highlighted by one of history’s most amazing feats of human endurance. With a childhood (as Herzog’s) in WWII Germany, Dengler survived US bombing raids that reduced his hometown to rubble; a glimpse of an American pilot spurred Dengler’s obsession with aviation. His drive to fly led him to emigration and a career as a US Navy aviator. Shot down in the Vietnam War, Dieter was captured and tortured. He made a daring escape, and, after the war, pursued civilian aviation; we finally see Dieter in his Marin County home with its odd survivalist features . Unsurprisingly, given the traumas he endured, Dieter has his quirks.
But the core of Little Dieter Needs to Fly is the amazing jungle escape. It was a 23-day ordeal with a manhunt hot on his heels. His 167-pound frame was whittled to 98 pounds. Herzog takes Dieter back to Southeast Asia and pays the locals to re-enact the capture and chase.
Werner Herzog, known for his German New Cinema art house hits of the 70s and 80s (Aguirre:The Wrath of God, Strozek Nosferatu the Vampyre, Fitzcarraldo), switched gears in 1997 with Little Dieter Needs to Fly and followed it with the masterpiece Grizzly Man. Since, Herzog has become a prolific and masterful documentarian.
Note: It’s not in Little Dieter, but, four years after the 1997 release of the film, Dieter was diagnosed with ALS and died from a self-inflicted gunshot.
The brisk 80 minutes of Little Dieter Needs to Fly can be streamed on Criterion, the Amazon Fandor channel, iTunes, Vudu and Google Play.
Sidse Babett Knudson and Mads Mikkelsen in Susanne Bier’s AFTER THE WEDDING
The Danish director Susanne Bier’s 2006 After the Wedding (Efter brylluppet) is a successful melodrama in the very best sense. There’s also a remake – a big Hollywood movie to be released this Friday also called After the Wedding, and I can’t say if it’s any good (early reviews are favorable for the stars but not the film overall). But I can tell you that I love, love, love Bier’s 2006 film.
The Danish expat Jacob (Mads Mikkelsen) runs an orphanage in Calcutta, and his non-profit badly needs an infusion of cash. He gets the offer of a huge contribution, but it’s conditioned on his travel to Denmark. There, he meets the prospective philanthropist, the industrialist Jorgen (Rolf Lassgård). Jacob just wants to finalize the money and return to India, but the forceful and wily Jorgen is a difficult guy to close. While apparently stalling, Jorgen sets up Jacob with a driver and a luxury hotel room; this makes the anti-poverty crusader Jacob, a true believer, ever more uncomfortable. Finally, Jorgen invites Jacob to attend the wedding of Jorgen’s daughter. Jacob gets a big surprise when he meets Jorgen’s wife Helene (Sidse Babett Knudsen). A second shocker is unveiled at the wedding by the bride. And then, after the wedding, Jorgen delivers yet another jaw-dropper.
Bier, who co-wrote the film, paces the reveals just perfectly. The plot twists could easily have been preposterous and the ending could have been phony – but Bier skillfully avoids every misstep and delivers a gripping, genuine drama.
Mads Mikkelsen is an especially charismatic actor, and After the Wedding, along with The Hunt, is among his very best work.
After the Wedding was nominated for Best Foreign Language Oscar (and would have won most years, but it had to compete with The Lives of Others). After the Wedding, which I had listed as the second-best movie of 2007, can be streamed from Criterion and Amazon.
Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio in ONCE UPON A TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD
In Quentin Tarantino’s spectacularly successful Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood, two fictional characters, Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) and Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt) and the actress Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie) navigate a changing Hollywood in 1969. The next evolution of Hollywood is filled only with promise for Sharon, but presents an unseen threat to Rick and Cliff.
Rick is an actor, a former star of TV Westerns who has aged into guest appearances on the shows of a new crop of TV stars. Cliff is Rick’s longtime stuntman, who now works as Rick’s driver, gofer and drinking buddy. Cliff lives in a San Fernando Valley trailer; Rick lives on exclusive Cielo Drive, next door to Sharon and her husband Roman Polanski, but he’s slipped too far down the showbiz ladder to know them.
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is about a lot of things, expertly braided together. It’s about a specific time and place. It’s about a woman, filled with innocence and zest, who is justifiably hopeful. It’s about two guys – one tortured and the other decidedly not – facing age and irrelevance. It’s about the guys’ relationship, at once interdependent and asymmetric. And it’s a love letter to vintage Hollywood, the Hollywood that six-year-old Quentin Tarantino lived near to, but was not a part of.
The story follows the three characters through a series of vignettes, right up to the most startling ending in recent cinema. This is a Quentin Tarantino masterpiece, right up there with his best, Jackie Brown and Pulp Fiction.
The movie’s title begins with “Once Upon a Time…“, so you are on notice that this isn’t actual history.
Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt in ONCE UPON A TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD
Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood is set in the locations most evocative of the 1969 Hollywood: movie studio sets, legendary showbiz hangout Musso & Frank, the Playboy Mansion, the ill-fated Cielo Drive and Spahn Ranch – famous for both its use as a movie set and as the home base of the Manson Family.
There’s a dazzling montage of neon signs being lit up at sunset. Not many contemporary directors still know how to film galloping horse riders, but Tarantino brings us some great shots from Spahn Ranch, where so many Westerns were shot.
Of course, Tarantino’s soundtrack takes us right into 1969 with superbly curated period radio hits like the Deep Purple version of Hush and the Jose Feliciano cover of California Dreamin’. A February scene is perfectly set to Neil Diamond’s Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show, with its hot August nights lyrics presaging the Manson murders to come in LA’s stifling August 1969. (Brother Love’s Traveling Salvation Show got me wondering how Tarantino restrained himself from using it in some – or all – of his previous films; it’s every bit as Tarantinoesque as Misirlou or Stuck in the Middle with You.) A snippet of a full-bearded Robert Goulet singing MacArthur Park even turns up on somebody’s TV.
In 1969, American culture and the nation itself were in turbulence. Hollywood showbiz was also being rocked – major movie studios were slipping both financially and creatively, floundering to react to the primacy of television and the public’s changing taste (and growing disinterest in Westerns). The studios were about to reach out in desperation to auteur directors like Polanski. Rick and Cliff are behind the curve – but they haven’t noticed that their world is dying.
As hedonists, Rick and Cliff have embraced the drugs and free sex of the counterculture. But they still drive gas guzzlers – a luxury sedan for Rick and a muscle car for Cliff – and refer to “dirty hippies”.
How does the Manson Family play into all this? There was a time when people actually believed that drug-infused peace and love would cure all that ailed us as a society. By 1969, the Summer of Love had already turned dark in San Francisco; but the Manson killings made the unmistakable point that the counterculture, for all its promise, didn’t have an answer to murderous psychopaths any more than did the mainstream.
We very briefly glimpse Manson himself (in an encounter that is pretty close to historically accurate). Tarantino knows that the best way to depict Manson’s evil is to reflect it in the cult he created.
DiCaprio’s Rick Dalton, drinking way, way too much, is still treated like a star around town, and he’s grown complacent – until the truth about his career staleness finally hits home. DiCaprio shines in the scene where Rick, cast as a one-dimensional villain in a disposable TV Western, shows his acting chops with an explosive performance; Rick, having internalized that his career may be over, lets it all go in the scene. The character of Rick has the movie’s greatest arc, but he’s less interesting overall than Cliff or Sharon.
Margot Robbie in ONCE UPON TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD,
Sharon Tate is the soul of Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood. Robbie is absolutely transcendent,. She doesn’t need a lot of lines to make her character unforgettable. Sharon gets a ticket to watch herself in a Dean Martin movie, and it’s impossible to imagine a moment with more goofy innocence.
Cliff Booth is one of Tarantino’s greatest characters. Cliff is secure in his abilities, without any need for recognition or self-promotion. Unambitious, he is absolutely content to be Rick’s second banana. That being said, he’s not going to take any shit from anyone.
Brad Pitt in ONCE UPON A TIME…IN HOLLYWOOD
In Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood, Brad Pitt shows us what a movie star is and why he is one. I haven’t been a Pitt enthusiast, although I’ve liked him in Fight Club, The Assassination of Jesse James, Moneyball and Inglorious Basterds. Pitts’ Cliff Booth is off the charts, and it’s tough to imagine any other actor in the role. Other male stars can match the physicality, but not the unique combination of confidence and humility.
Right up there with Pitt and Robbie is Margaret Qualley, who plays a fictional Manson girl named Pussycat. She is kooky in the cute way and kooky in the scary way. Qualley fills her with manic energy, brimming with wit and sensuality.
Julia Butters plays a precocious child actor in the pilot Rick is shooting; she’s the best possible counterpoint to Rick’s flabby professional complacency. Michael Moh is very funny in a send-up of Bruce Lee. Damien Lewis has a priceless moment as Steve McQueen.
For his supporting players, Tarantino pulls out an abundant cornucopia of acting talent and Tarantino sentimental favorites: Al Pacino, Dakota Fanning, Kurt Russell, Emile Hirsch, Brenda Vaccaro, Clu Gulager, Bruce Dern, Michael Madsen, Luke Perry, Timothy Olyphant, Zoë Bell, Clifton Collins Jr. (Perry Smith in Capote), Lena Durham and Scoot McNairy.
Tarantino’s exquisite filmmaking skills blend together the verisimilitude of time and place, the vivid performances and a rock ’em, sock ’em story to make Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood an instant classic.
Note: Deep into the closing credits, there’s an Easter egg.
In the heartfelt family dramedy The Farewell, Awkwafina plays Billi, a Chinese-American woman whose grandmother in China is diagnosed with a terminal illness. The Chinese wing of the family decides not to tell the grandmother the bad news, and opts to rush a wedding as a pretext to gather the extended family to say farewell. The American branch of the family is not OK with the deception, but goes along, in varying degrees of reluctance.
Writer-director Lulu Wang based the story on her own family, and opens the film with the title, “Based on an actual lie“.
Indeed, ALL of the family members are constantly telling lies to each other, mostly to avoid conflict or social awkwardness. Is the film’s central Big Lie to avoid unpleasantness? To foster denial? Or, as one uncle posits, to let the entire family absorb the burden of the grandmother’s illness?
Naturally, there’s all the usual forms of family conflict, enhanced – when the grandmother isn’t present – by the stress of grieving. When the grandmother IS present, we have all these very sad people acting artificially happy with ridiculous enthusiasm. The Japanese bride doesn’t understand Chinese, and her reactions to what’s going on are frequently hilarious.
Awkwafina is a tremendous talent; she’s very good here, but underutilized. She only gets one brief, emotionally powerful speech, and the role could have been written into an acting tour de force (like Virginia Madsen’s in Sideways). Too bad. The rest of the cast, especially Hong Lu as the pepper pot grandma, is excellent, too.
Still, this is a very funny and emotionally evocative film. The family dynamics in The Farewell are authentic and universal, and this is a sure-fire audience-pleaser.
In Lynn Shelton’s brilliant comedy Sword of Trust, Mel (Marc Maron) runs a Birmingham, Alabama, pawnshop with his worthless Millennial assistant Nathaniel (Jon Bass – very funny). Cynthia (Jillian Bell) has returned to Alabama, with her partner Mary (Michaela Watkins), to claim an inheritance that disappointingly turns out to be a single antique sword. But the grandfather’s incoherent letter about the sword fits the Internet ravings of a White supremacist cult called the “Provers” (like “Truthers”), who are hunting for artifacts that “prove” that the Conderacy really won the Civil War. The four resolve to cash in an a windfall by dealing the sword to the scary underground racist cult. Comic situations, naturally, ensue.
There’s plenty of grist for comedy here, and Shelton bores in on the widespread absence of critical thinking that meshes with the Internet to give platforms to crackpot conspiracy theories. From Anti-vaxxers to Truthers, folks are now somehow comfortable with denying scientific or historical fact to fit a narrative that they prefer. In Sword of Trust, that idiocy ranges to denying the Union victory in the Civil War and even the roundness of the Earth.
Sword of Trust is very successful as a comedy, but there’s another, very emotionally powerful story in here. Mel’s ex Deirdre drops by the shop in an attempt to extract some cash for a modest ring. It’s clear that Deidre has had a toxic and near-ruinous impact on Mel’s life that he can’t – and perhaps won’t – escape. This story takes up less than ten minutes, essentially book-ending the sword comedy, but it’s the meat of Maron’s performance and the heartfelt core of the film.
Maron’s performance as Mel is a tour de force. When Mel first sees Diedre, he silently freezes for an instant and takes the long way around the shop to gather himself before reaching the counter. He listens to Deidre’s story with a knowing weariness in his eyes. When Deidre says “I’m good for it” and Mel replies, “No, you’re not”, it is with the quiet certainty of a man scarred. Later, Maron’s Mel relates his own back story, and it’s all the more heartbreaking because of his matter-of-factness. This is one of the best performances of the year.
Lynn Shelton in SWORD OF TRUST
And, Deidre, what a mess! The fidgety desperation just underneath her sad story du jour just nails the manipulative addict. I made a note to look up the actress playing Deidre with such compelling authenticity – and it is Lynn Shelton herself.
The entire cast is good, especially Dan Bakkedahl (Life in Pieces) as the White supremacist kingpin and prolific character actor Toby Huss as his henchman.
Sword of Trust is a very smart and funny comedy with a bonus – a rich and moving character study.
George C. Scott (center) seethes while James Stewart (right) lawyers in ANATOMY OF A MURDER
Turner Classic Movies is broadcasting Anatomy of a Murder on July 27. I love this film for its great courtroom scene, for the great performances by James Stewart, George C. Scott, Ben Gazzara and Lee Remick, and for its exquisite pacing by director Otto Preminger.
Jimmy Stewart plays a lawyer who has exiled himself to the remote Upper Peninsula of Michigan precisely to avoid the high-pressured rat race by settling into a leisurely rural practice. But circumstances force him into an all-consuming, high-stakes trial. It’s a murder case, and he must defend a hot-tempered soldier who has killed a local businessman. The defendant is not sympathetic (Ben Gazzara at his most smoldering). The defense – rage at the rape of his wife – rests on whether there WAS a rape, and the wife (a sizzling Lee Remick) isn’t an ideal witness, either. The local DA brings in a hotshot, big city prosecutor (George C. Scott) to nail down the conviction.
You take your clients and facts as you find them, and this makes for a gripping courtroom battle. The canny local lawyer pulls out all the stops. The cynical ending plants Anatomy of a Murder firmly into the film noir/neo-noir genre.
The supporting performances, especial Arthur O’Connell and Eve Arden as Jimmy’s team, are remarkably good.
The prolific character actor Murray Hamilton plays Al the bartender, and this is my favorite Murray Hamilton performance. Hamilton is best known for his performances as Mr. Robinson in The Graduate and as the mayor in Jaws. Here, his line reading of “bare-legged” practically cries ” SLUT SLUT SLUT”.
Real-life lawyer Joseph Welch plays the judge. In the televised McCarthy hearings, Welch emasculated the bullying Joseph McCarthy with “Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?“
I also recommend Anatomy of a Murder for its great jazz soundtrack by none other than Duke Ellington. It’s one of the few movie soundtrack CDs that I own. The music perfectly complements the story of a murder investigation that reveals more and more ambiguity as it proceeds. Stewart’s character relaxes by dabbling in jazz piano, and Duke himself has a cameo leading a bar band in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (of all places).
In Vincent D’Onofrio’s western The Kid, a boy (Jake Schur) escapes with his sister from a murderous uncle, but runs right into the Billy the Kid-Pat Garrett finale. The core is the lesson that the boy learns from his relationships with both Western icons – Billy (Dane DeHaan) and Pat (Ethan Hawke).
I recommend this Vincent D’Onofrio /Film interview, in which he discusses how the boy’s relationships with Billy and Pat echo the male role models from his own childhood.
The fine actor Dane DeHaan is the first movie Billy the Kid that I’ve seen who actually looks like Billy the Kid; he also behaves as I imagine the real Billy the Kid to behave – as a charismatic but psychopathic punk. No handsome, sardonic Kris Kristoffersson or misunderstood Paul Newman here. Ethan Hawke, of course, is excellent as a man imparting an important truth to a boy – that life may be complicated, but that reliability is always damn important.
The Kid is a little movie that works, chiefly because of DeHaan’s performance, for fans of Westerns. The Kid can be streamed from Amazon, iTunes, Vudu, YouTube and Google Play.
