I consider myself a writer. I may only be a writer of a modest movie blog, but the essence remains the same. No matter the outlet or the subject, the struggle, as they say, is still real. I still force deadlines upon myself, have standards I set for myself and often find myself staring at a blinking cursor on a blank computer screen, begging inspiration to hit. And when it does, and I have filled said screen with hundreds of words, I still find myself sometimes going back and reading what I wrote and been so appalled by the verbal flop sweat that has spewed out that I challenge the speed of the backspace button to the computer equivalent of the 5-second rule: if I can delete it fast enough, I can pretend I was never capable of producing such drivel. Such is the lonely and self-critical existence of the writer: no matter how famous, prolific or widely read, the torture remains.
Lisbeth Salander is like James Bond. As a fictional character, she gets represented in multiple films, by multiple actors, and in multiple different stories. We’re not talking a constant reboot of the same story, like Spider Man, instead, hers are different stories each time, which continue to build a history, no matter who plays her, who writes her or who directs her. In the new movie The Girl in the Spider’s Web, it is Claire Foy (of The Crown fame) who climbs into the skin of the character made famous in late novelist Stieg Larsson’s Millenium book series, the most famous being The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Previously played by Noomi Rapace in the Swedish-language trilogy and Rooney Mara in the David Fincher-directed American version, Lisbeth Salander is a meaty, complex and exciting character and I would imagine many actresses would relish the opportunity. But Salander isn’t an easy character to play, and each actress has achieved varying levels of success. For Rapace, her performance as Salander in the three Swedish movies based on Larsson’s original three Salander books skyrocketed her to fame in Sweden, which she has since translated to a significant Hollywood career, with starring roles in Prometheus and Alien: Covenant and an upcoming biopic of Maria Callas. When David Fincher was casting for his version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo in 2011, he chose relative unknown American actress Rooney Mara to play Salander. Mara was nominated for Best Actress for the role and has gone onto have a significant career, including another Best Actress nomination for Carol in 2015. History has proven that playing Lisbeth Salander can truly kick-start a career. So, what about the actress who dons the tattoos and piercings in the newest Salander story? Well, for Claire Foy, I believe the choice was made not to create a career trajectory for herself, but, rather, to change it.
It was definitely not easy to bring legendary Queen front man Freddie Mercury’s story to the screen. It has been many years in the making, having gone through several stars, directors and studios before landing at 20th Century Fox with Rami Malek as Mercury, and Bryan Singer directing. But, even then, it wasn’t free from obstacles, as Singer was fired with six weeks left in the shoot, replaced by Dexter Fletcher (even though Singer gets final credit). In addition to the personnel shifts, there was controversy about the content of the movie: how much would the movie address Mercury’s sexuality and/or how he died (of AIDS)? Rumors were rampant around early pre-production of this movie that the hands-on involvement by two Queen band members, Brian May and Roger Taylor, as well as Queen’s manager, Jim Beach (all of whom are characters in the movie and have producing credits), might have created a sanitizing effect on the script, both to reduce any negative portrayal of themselves and to perhaps portray Mercury as more of a tragic figure than he might have actually been. In the end, there may have been no way to create a movie that would have been free from controversy, simply due to the fact that it tells the story of one of the most iconic and legendary performers in rock and roll history. Sometimes, for movies like this, the producers need to make a choice: make a movie for the critics or make one for the fans. For Bohemian Rhapsody, their choice is clear.
I’m not sure how Bad Times at the El Royale snuck up on me. All year long, I read movie bloggers, listen to podcasts and follow Twitter to determine what the buzz-worthy movies are, to make sure they are on my radar. I follow all the buzz coming out of festivals and conventions, and note all the movies with big name stars, directors or writers, to make sure not to miss them. On top of that, I follow Oscar season with breathless anticipation, as trying to guess the movies that will make the ultimate cut is almost more fun than playing the lotto. Sure, there are always movies that come out that I didn’t know about, but they are usually kids movies, horror movies or some other movie that the studios either want to bury or get out there with little fanfare, in order to avoid criticism. It is truly rare that a high-quality adult movie with movie stars gets released and I didn’t know about it. And yet, the first time I had ever heard of Bad Times at the El Royale was when I saw an ad on television for it. And, when I did, I was even more confused. What was this movie that looks like a cross between Tarantino and the Coens? Jeff Bridges is in it? Chris Hemsworth is shirtless in the rain? How did I not know about this movie? Is it a joke? Is it really bad? What is this movie and where did it come from?
The love affair between movies and space has been around since, well, the beginning. One of the first movies ever made was Georges Méliès’s A Trip to the Moon (1902), about a group of astronauts who travel to the moon. It seems man has always been fascinated with space flight and the history of cinema has reflected that curiosity, sense of adventure and wonder. Even though space movies have ventured much deeper into the void since 1902, the moon was and will always be our most intimately explored subject, as it is the closest to us, yet still far enough away to seem unreachable by any average person. So close, and, yet…so far.
Even this deep into humanity’s existence, space travel is reserved for the most daring, the most capable and the most dedicated. Only a noted few in history have ventured beyond our atmosphere, which, in the annals of human history, still counts as the rarest achievement. For a little perspective, up until 2010, 3,412 people have climbed Mt. Everest, the greatest achievement on this planet, whereas, as of 2013, only 536 people have ever been to space. And, of those 536, only 12 have ever walked on the face of the moon. Only 12 souls have ever set foot on an interplanetary object other than ours. I can’t imagine a story more made for the movies than that of the first person ever to do so.
So, when I heard that director Damien Chazelle, the Oscar-winning director of La La Land, my favorite movie of 2016, was making a movie about Neil Armstrong, the first man on the moon, and it starred Ryan Gosling as Armstrong, I was in. I was beyond excited for the possibilities with these artists working together to combine the adventure and beauty of space with the true story of an American legend. Well, the movie, First Man, is now out and I have finally seen it. And, sad to say, I was disappointed. For all it could have been—for all I was expecting and hoping it to be—it ended up being something quite different.
So close, and, yet, so far.
One of the many things I’ve learned about movies as I’ve gotten older is that, if you wait long enough, everything good will eventually get re-made. Sometimes, even things that weren’t good get re-made. In the case of A Star Is Born, it didn’t just get re-made once, but now, 81 years after the original, 64 after the first re-make and 42 years after the RE-re-make, we are given a fourth version of the same story. Is fourth time the charm? Well, that depends.
Something that is either a detriment or an advantage to me watching Bradley Cooper’s current version of A Star is Born is the fact that I have never seen any of the three previous movie incarnations of William A. Wellman and Robert Carson’s original story about a young singer and the aging, alcoholic rock star who propels her to stardom. The original, from 1937, starred Fredric March and Janet Gaynor. The first re-make, in 1954, starred Judy Garland and James Mason. And then in 1976 came the Barbra Streisand and Kris Kristofferson version. And now, 2018’s A Star is Born stars Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga. If it seems crazy, even in an industry where original thinking is as rare as Halley’s Comet, that the same story would continue to be re-done so many times, it will all make sense when you see it. A Star is Born is a story custom-made for Hollywood, made for the big screen, made for a world where the collision of music and movies is often box office gold. Many pop stars have starred in movies where they played some version of themselves….some worked (The Bodyguard, 8 Mile, The Rose, Purple Rain) and some didn’t (Glitter, Crossroads), but they have always been fascinating. And some pop stars look and feel more at home on the big screen than others. While I’ve never seen Janet Gaynor, Judy Garland or Barbra Streisand’s takes on this character, I can’t imagine any of them inhabiting this story any better or with more bravura than Lady Gaga does. I only wish the rest of the movie could have risen up to meet her.
Of all the movie combos I thought I’d never see, Cate Blanchett and Eli Roth could well have been at the top of the list. Two-time Oscar winner Blanchett is considered one of, if not the best actress in Hollywood, a go-to for everything from historical period pieces to modern-day dramas, she not only legitimizes any film she’s in, but she elevates and dignifies it as well. And then there’s Roth, the notorious king of gore, whose movies are so violent, disturbed and bloody that I can’t even watch the trailers. IMDB cites one of the trademarks of his movies as containing “explicit carnage…and female nudity.” Not exactly Blanchett territory.
But every director likes to expand their repertoire, and every actress wants to challenge themselves with something new and different. Where would Cate Blanchett and Eli Roth meet in the middle? Where would someone from the elevated heights of filmmaking meet the purveyor of low-brow horror? Where would they both look and feel a little out of place yet still be able to challenge their artistry? A PG-rated kid’s movie, of course!
It’s hard to believe that we have been so incredibly lucky to have had Black Panther AND Crazy Rich Asians in the same year. Whether it’s a reaction to the toxic political climate we are in or just coincidence, the fact that two major Hollywood movies featuring almost exclusively non-white actors, directed by non-white directors and centered around non-European culture were made with big budgets by major Hollywood studios and became legit blockbusters in the same year aren’t even the craziest things about them. The craziest thing is that they even exist in the first place. In the same year of the first mainstream gay romantic comedy (Love, Simon), Black Panther and Crazy Rich Asians are firsts in so many ways. Black Panther is the first movie about a black superhero featuring an almost completely black cast and directed by a black director. And Crazy Rich Asians is—if you can believe it—the first Hollywood movie to feature a completely Asian cast in 25 years (Joy Luck Club in 1993) which is also directed by a director of Asian heritage. Hard to believe, but true. And the best thing about Crazy Rich Asians is similarly the best thing about Black Panther: it’s just a good movie. Yes, it breaks all kinds of barriers, but, at the end of the day, what matters is if it’s entertaining. And boy, is it.
You’d think, after all the movies I’ve seen about World War II, that I would have seen one about the capture of Adolph Eichmann. Eichmann was the main architect of the Holocaust, and was the highest-ranking Nazi officer to escape Germany after the war. He fled to Argentina, but, in 1960, Israeli Mossad agents tracked him down, captured him, and returned him to face trial in Israel, where he was found guilty of crimes against humanity and hanged. Eichmann’s trial was watched worldwide and sparked a renewed interest in learning about the war and about the atrocities committed at the hands of the Nazis.
While Eichmann’s story itself is a significant one, the story of his capture and eventual trial would seem a gimme to be one laden with dramatic content and seemingly tailor-made for cinematic retelling. And yet, I have never seen a movie about Eichmann. Which is why I was so excited to see Operation Finale, a new movie starring Ben Kingsley as Eichmann and Oscar Isaac as Peter Malkin, the Mossad agent who brings him in. I was expecting/hoping it would be along the lines of the really good Steven Spielberg movie Munich (2005), which was about the Israeli agents who were tasked with hunting down the people behind the Palestinian terrorist attack on the Israeli Olympic team at the 1972 Munich games. Unfortunately, Operation Finale is never able to achieve a compelling narrative and ends up being a massive disappointment.
My thoughts on the new film Sorry to Bother You will feel like they are an addendum to my review of The Spy Who Dumped Me. Just as I was disappointed in that film but was pleased at the fact that more films written, directed and starring women are being made, I feel the same way about films by black artists. The prevailing notion for films made by women and/or by minorities is that they have to be really good because there are so few of them. White men have been making movies for decades and when a film directed by a white man fails or gets terrible reviews, they don’t suddenly say “well, see, this is why white men just shouldn’t make movies.” However, there is the fear that could happen for black or women filmmakers. We need to get to the same place where minority filmmakers can fail just as often as their white male counterparts and still have the chance to try again. With white male filmmakers, the opportunity to make a first film is called “let’s see your potential.” With minority filmmakers, it’s called “your one chance to impress us.”