We are in a time in American history that undoubtedly will inspire countless books, movies and mini-series in our near future. I’m sure every over-50, white actor in America (and England and Australia) is practicing his Donald Trump impersonation as we speak, preparing for all the auditions that are soon to come. The Donald Trump story needs to come to its conclusion before scripts can be written, however, so they will have to wait a little longer for their big moment. But some peripheral stories have already played out and are already starting to find their way to our screens, the first one being Bombshell, the story of Fox News and the downfall of Fox News head Roger Ailes. While not specifically a Donald Trump movie, Fox News and Ailes were significantly involved—perhaps even responsible—for the rise of Trump and certainly his demagoguery in this country. While we still have Trump, Ailes is gone, and this is the story of how one woman exposed the sexist toxic culture at Fox News which led to the downfall of the most powerful man in television news.
Charles Randolph’s original screenplay tells the vibrant and colorful behind-the-scenes story of what Fox News was like under Ailes’s iron fist. Ailes had a long and successful career guiding politicians before he moved to television and NewsCorp chairman Rupert Murdoch let Ailes run the Fox News division as he saw fit. While Ailes saw the gap in news coverage and successfully crafted a network that appealed to an audience that had heretofore felt left out of the mainstream coverage of national politics, he did so at the expense of the women who worked for him. In the raging and long overdue #MeToo era, perhaps nobody short of Harvey Weinstein was as culpable of creating a toxic work environment than Ailes and Randolph’s script, paired with Jay Roach’s direction, attempts to paint the picture of that toxicity with broad strokes.
It’s often said that we take for granted the sacrifices of those who have fought in war. There is no greater human frailty than the one that insists we settle conflicts with violence. Wars are the ultimate betrayal of humanity’s promise. It is because of the debt all who come after owe to all those who fought before that there have been and will always be war movies. There is no better way to translate the breadth and scope of loss and the intimate cruelty of war than by reenacting it. Some of the best films of all time have been war movies, for a reason. There is no greater drama and when done well, a war movie can tap into the deepest emotions and provide an epic tale on a vast canvas.
I have seen a lot of war movies, but I have never seen one quite like 1917.
1917, the latest film from Oscar-winning director Sam Mendes, is a cinematic triumph. It is a testament to the incredible power of the medium, a textbook example of what can happen when every artist, every department, every designer and every actor work together to tell a story. 1917 has a very simple plot: two British soldiers must get a message from one regiment to another, across enemy lines, during World War I. The stakes are high, the challenge is great. That’s it. Two men must get from point A to point B. What happens from there is an astounding choreography of acting, cinematography, sound, production design, score and direction that is beyond words in its precision and effectiveness.
I’m not a religious person, but there’s been something about Martin Scorsese’s 2016 drama Silence, about a pair of Jesuit priests in the 17th century who risk their lives to spread Christianity that has really stayed with me. The idea that someone could hold their beliefs and their faith so deeply that they could literally risk their life for it was truly a staggering one to me. In that film, all they needed to do to save themselves was to denounce God—to just speak it and they would be free. But their faith and devotion wouldn’t even allow them to speak against their faith, which seemed totally insane to me. I kept thinking, nothing can change what’s in your heart, what does it matter what you speak or what you do? But perhaps that movie has really stuck with me because maybe, just maybe, I’ve realized that true faith and belief is actually the other way around: it is, in fact, what you do that matters.
Clint Eastwood is a big fan of the unsung American hero. Three of his last four movies have been based on true stories of ordinary men doing extraordinary things. American Sniper, Sully and the 15:17 to Paris have all been about regular guys, placed in ordinary situations that became extraordinary and tell the story of how each of them found a way to be heroic, just by doing what comes naturally to them. Now 89, it seems apparent that Eastwood is drawn to these stories of everyday heroism and enjoys bringing their tales to light.
So it seems natural that it is Eastwood who would bring Richard Jewell’s story to the big screen. Jewell was the security guard for the 1996 Atlanta summer Olympics who discovered a suspicious backpack under a bench and alerted authorities, who confirmed the threat and started to clear the area. The backpack, which was in fact a bomb, exploded before everyone could be moved out of harm’s way and two people were killed and hundreds wounded. The loss of life could have been much higher, however, if it hadn’t been spotted. Jewell was hailed as a hero but then became a suspect when a perpetrator wasn’t quickly found. What resulted turned into the worst case of media whiplash this country has seen. In a matter of days, one ordinary man went from hero to villain in the eyes of the world. And behind it all was a man whom nobody really knew.
Jane Fonda is getting arrested every Friday for the rest of the year protesting the lack of action on climate change. She’s 81.
Although there are a handful of celebrities today who use their status and fame to bring attention to the causes they care about, Fonda reminds us of the decade when activism was a more urgent calling for famous people. In the sixties, the fight for civil rights and the Vietnam War prompted several prominent people to step outside their comfort zone and speak out about what they perceived to be injustices and harmful policies. Fonda was front and center back then, too, perhaps the most famous celebrity activist, then and now.
While Fonda was by far the most famous face of the sixties protest culture, there were other celebrities who made an impact, including Harry Belafonte, Muhammad Ali and Marlon Brando. And there was Jean Seberg, the American actress who became the icon of the French New Wave after starring in the famous Jean-Luc Godard film, Breathless (1960), who became the most tragic face of ‘60s celebrity activism and whose story is told in the new movie Seberg, directed by Benedict Andrews and starring Kristen Stewart.
In my review for the new Terrence Malick film, A Hidden Life, I found myself comparing it to Martin Scorsese’s film Silence. That 2016 film seems to be stuck in the head of many reviewers right now, as some reviewers have compared it to Scorsese’s current film, The Irishman. They feel The Irishman is a companion piece to Silence, as they are both meditations on mortality.
I don’t see that at all.
For me, Silence was a meaningful, meditative essay on individual belief, whereas The Irishman is a bloated gimmick. The films I was reminded of the most while watching The Irishman were Goodfellas and Casino, two of my favorite Scorsese pictures, not because The Irishman is as good as those films, but because it feels like a lazy rip-off of both. I truly hate to say it, but The Irishman left me confused and disappointed. Disappointed in what I’d hoped would be another Scorsese triumph, and confused as to what exactly it was supposed to be.
The concept of the male gaze is almost literally what defines Hollywood. Movies made in Hollywood are still largely made by men for men, and when it comes to a woman’s place in Hollywood, it mostly is still to serve that male perspective and point-of-view. The term “male gaze” generally references the way Hollywood movies portray female characters, i.e. the movie sees the women the way men see women, usually in an idealized way. And because most writers and directors—the ones who are responsible for the POV of a movie— are still men, it continues to be the unwritten motif of the industry.
While there is some progress being made within Hollywood to change this imbalance, we still have to look beyond Hollywood to the independent film scene and to foreign markets to find films that offer more diverse perspectives. A perfect example of a film that is made wholly contrary to the male gaze-driven Hollywood studio complex is Portrait of a Lady on Fire, a new French film from writer/director Céline Sciamma and starring Noémie Merlant and Adèle Haenel. Not only is it as far from the male perspective as you could hope to be, it quite possibly might have invented—or at least perfected— the female gaze.
I have to confess, the trailer for The Aeronauts made me laugh out loud. It made the movie seem, to me, like an over-produced special effects carnival that looked not only preposterous but hopelessly ambitious. I was only partly wrong.
First of all, let me say The Aeronauts is not nearly as bad as I expected it to be. In fact, it’s not bad at all. It’s not great, but it’s certainly not bad. It is a special effects marvel that is over-produced, but it is also surprisingly simple, the opposite of ambitious, at least from a story perspective.
The Aeronauts is based on the true story of a scientist (Eddie Redmayne) and a hot air balloon pilot (Felicity Jones) who, in 1862, attempt to break the record for how high a human being has ever flown in the air. The whole movie is set in one day, interspersed with flashbacks to color in their stories. It really is that simple. The movie is shot in real time, which provides a great sense of the brevity of this massive endeavor, and makes it even more astounding, considering all they go through in such a short period of time.
Based on the 2013 book, Falling Upwards: How We Took to the Air, by Richard Holmes, screenwriters Tom Harper and Jack Thorne focus on the real-life balloon flight that attempted to break the flight altitude record, with budding meteorologist James Glashier and aeronaut Henry Coxwell aboard. Harper and Thorne decided to alter history a bit for the movie and replaced Coxwell with a fictional female character named Amelia Wren, who is played by Jones. This swap is at the heart of what The Aeronauts is as a movie, because that intentional nod to feminism is what gives this film both its emotional depth and slightly heavy-handed sense of political correctness. The movie’s painfully obvious desire to have a female character portrayed to be just as adventurous, ambitious and fearless as a male character—even more so, in fact—feels just a little over the top. And it felt a little patronizing (and pandering) as well, especially considering this film is written, directed and produced by men.
Even so, however, The Aeronauts features some stunning special effects and action sequences. The canvas of this film is used in full, as vistas are gorgeous and the senses of height, danger and weather are all created masterfully. The scenes on the ground are standard, seen-it-before stuff, but when the film is in the air, it is compelling. Redmayne and Jones are not actors who thrill me, but they are both fine for me here, and don’t detract from the experience.
You might be amazed that they built a full-length action movie with so few moving parts, but they did. And The Aeronauts is a visual spectacle that is thrilling for the whole family.