Hope & George review this week’s new releases: Disclosure Day, The Furious, Earth Wind & Fire, Find Your Friends, and Leviticus.
Running to Stand Still
Find Your Friends
by Hope Madden
I love Shudder. Truth is, Shudder is the only station I know how to find on our TV. I mean it. How I look forward to each new Shudder original! Happily, most of them live up to the excitement.
But every once in a while, you get a Find Your Friends.
Five unreasonably attractive and clearly alcoholic twentysomething besties wreak havoc on their livers and look good doing it. And screw the a’holes at this yacht party because these party bitches are headed to Joshua Tree to a better party followed by some desert tripping. Hell yeah!
I rarely stop watching a movie once I start it because it’s my job to finish the movie. I had to remind myself of this during Find Your Friends no fewer than four times before we even got to Joshua Tree.
We spend time with Amber (Helena Howard), Lavinia (Bella Thorne), Zosia (Zión Moreno), Lola (Chloe Cherry), and Maddy (Sophia Ali) twerking, doing shots, slapping each other’s asses, taking Molly, smoking joints, taking ‘shrooms, more shots, making out with strangers, driving wasted, saying “pussy” hundreds of times, talking incessantly about dick, and living as if we don’t exist in a country where you get away with rape but go to prison for defending yourself.
But that’s sort of writer/director Izabel Pakzad’s point, I suppose. That humans aggressively oblivious to their own safety still deserve safety, which is true. And that young women are often so frequently coerced and misused that they bond over it, joke about it, numb themselves to it. Also valid.
And that no women live in Joshua Tree at all. Only pick-up truck driving rapists and rifle carrying misogynists. This seems less accurate.
The heavy handedness of the film’s story and the one-dimensionality of its characters make it hard for Pakzad to build any momentum. There really is a story of female rage swimming beneath the sea of alcohol, but the story is so slight and the film so long and the climax so abrupt and the final shot so unearned that the message is tough to get behind.
Mighty Mighty Joy
Earth, Wind & Fire: To Be Celestial vs. That’s the Weight of the World
by George Wolf
Don’t worry, Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson doesn’t let the surviving members of Earth, Wind & Fire sidestep the tough questions.
What is the meaning of “ba-dee-ya,” anyway?
But well before Thompson gets to that, his HBO streamer Earth, Wind & Fire: To Be Celestial vs. That’s the Weight of the World becomes an exhilarating celebration of a band making music so joyful it’s described as “Jesus-less gospel.”
Through archival footage, performance clips, family mementos and interviews new and old, we see the band’s visionary founder Maurice White persevere through early struggles to embrace a unique sound that propelled EWF’s journey as 70s superstars, 80s has-beens and eventual worldwide icons.
Director Thompson, already an Oscar winner for the triumphant Summer of Soul, again shows impeccable instincts for presenting a music doc that transcends any Behind the Music formula. Of course, being an accomplished music himself can’t hurt, and Thompson’s effervescent approach lets the stories and songs find a seamless blend of style and meaning.
And somehow, the film manages to smooth over the massive absence of White, who passed away in 2016 from Parkinson’s disease. Heartfelt remembrances from band members, family, partners, friends and admirers (including Stevie Wonder, Lionel Richie, and Barack and Michelle Obama) paint an effective portrait of a gifted but complex artist who rose above childhood trauma for professional success full of singalong affirmations that often masked a personal struggle.
Those who may not know much about White will get schooled plenty, and even longtime fans like myself (hey, my birthday just happens to be the 21st night of September) may find a few surprises here (like why Philip Bailey would apologize for his classic slow jam “Reasons”). What everyone will find with Earth, Wind & Fire is two solid hours of EWF magic, and an inescapable joy both celestial and weighty.
Stop and Be Friendly
Disclosure Day
by Hope Madden
For about fifty years, Steven Spielberg has been indulging his wonder. By sheer force of will and undeniable talent, the filmmaker turned the direction of Hollywood’s alien fascination, not from “they’re coming to get us” to “maybe they love us.” But he pushed hard enough, beguiled intensely enough, to create that space.
He isn’t done. Disclosure Day returns our eyes to the skies and asks us to examine why our natural inclination is to believe the worst in each other and blame the “other” for it.
Josh O’Connor is Daniel Kellner, math nerd (you knew there’d be a nerd). He’s employed by Wardex, an intelligence and security paramilitary firm that works alongside, not for, the US government. But Spielberg, working from a script by longtime collaborator David Koepp (Jurassic Park, War of the Worlds) for which he gets story credit, wastes no time on this set up. From the opening smackdown, we are on the run with Daniel and girlfriend Jane (Eve Hewson) from Wardex and its head, Scanlon (Colin Firth).
Cut to the charmingly unserious Kansas City meteorologist, Margaret Fairchild (Emily Blunt). Quite suddenly, over the objections of Margaret’s equally unserious boyfriend (Wyatt Russell), she’s on a collision course with Daniel while Scanlon’s high tech, black clad operatives use all intel on hand to close in.
The shot making is Spielberg at his most reflectively, thrillingly Spielbergian. Disorienting, gorgeous, and often recalling his own work in nod after ingenious nod. Plus, John Williams came out of retirement, pairing music to scene to reliably engrossing effect.
Colman Domingo offers his support as the father figure whose let wonder and optimism override knee jerk fear and cynicism.
Everybody’s great, Blunt in particular. And there’s a lovely sentiment fueling the tale as Spielberg uses his familiar themes to point to the weaponization of religion and society’s bottomed-out belief in humanity.
But the world is not the same place it was when Richard Dreyfuss wasted a good plate of mashed potatoes. As well made and engaging as Disclosure Day is, the third act reveals what the first two suggested. For a comment on the state of the world, or an extra-terrestrial thriller, the film’s sweet, quaint, and somewhat irrelevant.
A few questionable details would be easier to overlook thanks to the film’s admirable momentum had it all led somewhere less telegraphed and less wide-eyed.
Screening Room: Masters of the Universe, Power Ballad, Office Romance & More
On this week’s Screening Room podcast, Hope & George review Masters of the Universe, Power Ballad, Carolina Caroline, Office Romance, Scary Movie, Strange Journey: The Story of Rocky Horror, Chum, and Seven Snipers!
You Play Lizzy?
Power Ballad
by George Wolf
Give it up for “Ireland’s grooviest wedding band…Bride and Groove!”
Back in the day, Rick Power (Paul Rudd) had an American rock band, a record deal and big dreams that never panned out. But after settling in the Emerald Isle with his Irish wife Rachel (Marcella Plunkett) and daughter Aja (Beth Fallon), Rick scratches his musical itch by playing other people’s classic hits and trying not to be too cliched about his glory days.
Power Ballad is yet another tune-centric winner from writer/director/composer John Carney. And much like Once, Sing Street, Begin Again and Flora and Son, his latest is a crowd-pleasing ode to authentic music, heartfelt inspiration and the twists of fate that change the course of our lives.
When Rick and his band play a high end wedding at a sprawling Irish castle, he meets friend-of-the-bride Danny Wilson (Nick Jonas), a former boy band star trying to transition into legit solo act. Danny sits in for a song, he and Rick hit it off and they end up drinking and jamming the night away in Danny’s lavish suite.
Fast forward a few months, and Danny’s first big solo hit is just a polished version of a song that Rick wrote years ago and played for Danny that very night.
Surely Rick can just call the number Danny left him with and settle this, right? He seemed like a great guy!
Well, he can only get through to Danny’s label head (Jack Reynor), who tells Rick that unless he has proof of his claim, buzz off or they’ll sue him into oblivion.
The endlessly endearing Rudd (who sings surprisingly well) shares a nice chemistry with Jonas, and Carney pumps the soundtrack full of both classics and some new originals that actually sound like pop hits. Carney also tosses in a couple wink-wink callbacks to Once and some outright hijinx, but the film’s greatest hits come from the warm humanity in the deep tracks.
Rick can feel his family and his band doubting his claim, and as Danny’s song becomes a global anthem requested at weddings (uh-oh!), Carney finds ways to probe the characters that are easily digestible.
Does Rick want the fame and riches that would come from a writing credit, or does he want to feel like he did when he was young and full of confident ambition?
And if that younger Rick had hit it big with his first band, would he really have had a better life?
Since the achingly beautiful Once, Carney has often relied on contrivances that work well in service of the feel good meter. Power Ballad follows that familiar rhyme scheme, but strikes an irresistible medley of joy, sacrifice and reward that feels like a bangin’ summer playlist.
Master and Servant
Masters of the Universe
by Hope Madden
Mattel, the company behind Greta Gerwig’s brilliant blockbuster Barbie, follows that unprecedented success by backing another woman centered feature driven by an Oscar worthy screenplay and helmed by a genius female filmmaker.
JK. They’re just making another toy movie.
Mattel welcomes you to Pride month with the return of their second pinkest toy. Bulging hero He Man (Nicholas Galitzine), saucy villain Skeletor (Jared Leto), and scrappy helpers including Ram Man (Jon Xue Zhang) and Fisto (Jóhannes Haukur Jóhannesson), unite for a semi-campy Masters of the Universe origin story.
Director Travis Knight, who somehow carved one worthwhile film out of the Transformers franchise (Bumblebee), is tapped to try to Gerwig-up this afternoon 80s staple. The filmmaker’s been nominated three times for Oscars, all for producing truly exceptional animated films. He works here with a team of writers (Chris Butler, Aaron Nee, Adam Nee), collaborators all on other great animated features. It’s not Gerwig and Baumbach, but it’s an impressive pedigree for Masters of the Universe.
The cast off the top impresses. Galitzine, so spot-on in both Bottoms and 100 Nights of Hero, charms as the bumbling prince returned from Earth to save Eternia from the clutches of the cackling, weirdly muscular Skeletor.
Idris Elba elevates scene after scene as Duncan/Man at Arms, the tough talking softie who mentored young Adam and has become a bit of a lush in his absence.
Leto’s adequate. But Knight articulates his henchmen (Trap Jaw, Beast Man, Goat Man) well with a good practical/CGI mix.
The tone is the thing. Masters of the Universe is both playful and self-serious. This doesn’t always work cinematically, but there’s tenderness for the franchise baked into the film. And certain things require a bit of ribbing. Fisto? Seriously?
The good natured humor is not enough to entirely salvage the movie. Indeed, it makes you realize anew how remarkable Barbie was for its lack of cynicism and endless insight. But we may never again see a film quite like Barbie, especially if men keep deciding who makes movies. As Orko might have helped us see at the end of an episode, Masters of the Universe is no masterpiece, but sometimes it’s OK to have fun. And the movie is OK.
Stay tuned for three post-credits scenes. Number one will thrill fans, while two and three tease future installments. Bye for now!
Rifles and Roos
Seven Snipers
by Rachel Willis
Director Sandra Sciberras and writer Andrew O’Keefe drop us into the outback of Australia for her intense thriller, Seven Snipers.
The movie doesn’t take its time before jumping into the action. The intensity throughout the first half of the film is top notch. We’re not given much information as we’re introduced to a reclusive mom (Radha Mitchell) and her stubborn daughter, Anja (Annabel Wolfe). After Anja leaves for school with her boyfriend, a realtor drives onto the scene to offer to buy the farm from Mom.
From here, we’re thrown right into an intense battle that leaves you wondering just what the hell is happening. When the realtor addresses our main character as Voodoo Child and references The Dragon, Mom’s shocked and fearful reaction lets us know something bad is on its way.
Seven Snipers works best during its first half. The lack of information only makes the situation more interesting as the tension ratchets up with the arrival of six battle-hardened men and women who offer to help protect Voodoo Child and her daughter.
It’s when the action slows and backstory creeps in that the movie starts to feel bogged down. While Seven Snipers never spends too much time on the why of things, it’s still a disappointing comedown from the preceding action. Especially since the reason behind it all is not very interesting.
Despite the dissatisfaction that colors the backstory, the acting is stellar. We spend very little time with each character in service of the action, but the actors still carve out independent personalities (well, most of them). O’Keefe tends to rely on oft-used character tropes, but Sciberras makes it work. You’re not going to find the most lively cast of characters, but the acting does a lot of the heavy lifting to make the audience at least feel something as everyone is put through the wringer.
Flaws and all, Seven Snipers is an entertaining hell of a ride.
Honky Tonk Blues
Carolina Caroline
by Hope Madden
Bourbon soaked and steamy, Carolina Caroline spins a modern Bonnie & Clyde tale with brains, sexual chemistry and emotional impact.
Samara Weaving is Caroline Daniels, stocking shelves and cleaning bathrooms at a two-pump filling station in an ambiguously timestamped, uncertainly located small Texas town. In walks Oliver (Kyle Gallner). He’s not from around here. And she is the one thing Oliver cannot entirely predict.
Director Adam Rehmeier struck gold with this cast. Certainly, he knew Gallner’s capabilities going in, the actor having led his subversive yet adorable misfit romance Dinner in America in 2022. Gallner’s as reliably magnetic an actor as anyone working today, forever mining the outsider character for its humanity.
And Weaving is just a star, pure and simple. Impossible to look away from, charming and vulnerable, those enormous eyes taking everything in, the wheels always turning, in her hands, Caroline is no cliched country beauty.
Strong support from Jon Gries (so dear as Caroline’s dad) and Kyra Sedgewick (brutal!) keep you emotionally engaged.
After two top-tier comedies (Dinner in America and Snack Shack), it’s impressive to see Rehmeier show such instincts with sexier, heavier material. It would have been simple enough for him to coast on the chemistry between his leads, Jean-Philippe Bernier’s photography, and an impossibly on-point honky tonk score and still produce a film worth watching. Although, there are times when that’s kind of what he does.
Writer Tom Dean (Charlie Harper) usually sidesteps cliché, even given the film’s worn-thin roadmap. We have heist machinations, romance, violence, laughs, family drama and more, none of it out of place or off putting. But maybe because of the skill Rehmeier shows in keeping this road picture intimate, when the script hits some obvious notes, they stand out.
But then Weaving moseys in and rescues the scene with unbridled charisma, and you’re back to enjoying yourself. For the film’s handful of rough patches, it would be a shame to miss Gallner and Weaving sizzle like this.
Bloody Mess
Chum
by George Wolf
After Chum‘s third or fourth continuity error with Alice Eve’s sandals, you start to wonder why they didn’t just fix that with AI, too. We get AI sharks, and AI victims, so at that point some AI bare feet are hardly going to register.
This is just a terrible movie, so bad you can’t help but imagine what kind of bet Eve must have lost to sign on.
She plays Tina, who gets hitched to Tom (Eric Michael Cole) at a destination wedding in the Mediterranean. Neither bride nor groom is happy on the big day, and only reluctantly agree to join some family and friends (Elle Haymond, Lisa Yaro, Sarah Siadet, Johnny Gaffney) on a daytime yacht excursion.
But after a fire onboard, the gang is rescued by a passing seafaring psycho (Jim Klock), and soon find themselves fighting against being dangled as bait for a predatory Great White.
I know you’re thinking Dangerous Animals right now, but this mess from director/co-writer Jonathan Zuck leans more Jaws: The Revenge – in both story and stupidity.
The premise is laughable, the characters and dialog inane, the wooden support cast make Eve look like Streep, and the eye rolling moments – from battle cries spoiling sneak attacks to Eve’s disappearing/reappearing shoe – come early and often.
And honestly, it’s just depressing to know this is where we’re headed. At least the recent Deep Water didn’t go further than CGI sharks – and even that muted the tension considerably. But after Zuck teases us with a few looks at real man-eaters, he lets loose a succession of attacks that more than justify the branding of “AI slop.”
I know it’s too expensive to shred on the natch (thank you, Doonesbury) with mechanical sharks these days, but if this is what it’s come to, just go over-the-top absurdist and call it a day.
Intentional comedy always has at least a chance of being funny. Chum can’t muster much more than sympathy – for Eve and the audience.
