Asteroid City (2023) Review

the rating: ****

the story: Young achievers are unexpectedly at the heart of an unlikely alien encounter.

the review: So I've really gotten into Wes Anderson, finally, and predictably it's just when critics have gotten over him.  I mean, they've been over him for at least a decade, and I didn't get into him, really, until a few years ago, so it's not that surprising.  Of course I had to see Asteroid City.  Of course it was likely that I would enjoy it.  I expected to like it more, but I definitely liked it.  The appearances of Tom Hanks and Steve Carell actually created a kind of uncanny valley, that breaks the typical mold of total control on Anderson's part.  Most actors who appear in his films fit the mold perfectly; Hanks can't help but be Hanks, and the same is true of Carell.  Everyone else (Owen Wilson is atypically absent, but Jason Schwartzman, another longtime collaborator, is back in a starring role) very much fits in nicely.

"You can't wake up if you don't go to sleep."

That's how the movie ends.  This is not a spoiler.  Just as Amsterdam ends with each of the principle characters reciting the eponymous city name to the audience, and Cradle Will Rock builds to the climactic moment from the 1937 play it's built around, Asteroid City concludes with the cast of stage actors reciting this line.  How much you appreciate the movie is likely tied to how much thought you put into it.  The movie preceding it plays out along two separate tracks: one is a presentation of a play, and the other as if the play were happening in reality and not on a stage.  Schwartzman's character pulls himself out of the play when he struggles to understand why his character chooses to burn his hand on a grill, and so clearly Anderson's intent is for his audience to figure out his intent, too.

"You can't wake up if you don't go to sleep."  There will be plenty of speculation about it for those interested, and so maybe this review isn't really the place for it, but the story pretty happily busies itself with the story of Schwartzman's character in the story trying to have an honest reckoning with himself and his young family, something he's been avoiding for the past few weeks.  Eventually an alien shows up (an absolutely perfect moment, a perfect marriage of Anderson's best live action and stop-motion instincts).  Around all this, as Anderson movies tend to go, a niche community (well, in this case, two) is explored, although it's not really the point, but how the community(s) reacts to circumstances.  

Me, I'd choose, if forced, to interpret the point of Asteroid City to warn against comforting complacency, that in order to make progress you have to challenge yourself.  But this isn't possible unless you're first willing to admit your complacency.

At any rate, Hanks and Carell are the signifiers that although this acts and behaves like a typical Anderson movie, it really isn't.  He is very obviously trying to make a point.  It's very possible this will raise Asteroid City's value for me, later, when I will have more fully digested the results.  But it's certainly another excellent effort on his part.

Amsterdam (2022) Review

rating: *****

the story: Three friends make a pact during WWI, and unexpectedly find themselves having to fulfill it during WWII.

the review: The movies one considers a classic are sometimes confused with personal favorites, especially when critics have decided to ignore, overlook, or downplay their worth for whatever reason.  I suspect this occurred with Amsterdam since director David O. Russell has had bad publicity in recent years stemming to his treatment of Amy Adams on the set of American Hustle, and he hasn't produced a wide success on the order of Silver Linings Playbook, despite high expectations for both Hustle and Joy after it.  I've been a fan of Russell since Three Kings, which remained my favorite of his efforts despite his critical reputation blowing up with Playbook, and while I loved what he did with Christian Bale in The Fighter (a showy supporting role, but one that took pressure off an actor who can sometimes get lost in his performances, and thus became a career highlight), I hadn't been wowed by one of his films again.  Russell is an idea guy in the vein of Orson Welles, and the way he achieves his results can lead to complicated productions, but the results speak for themselves.  George Clooney found his first great film in Kings, when he was often typecast as a rogue (Out of Sight being the exception that proved the rule) without a way forward.  Russell used the film to make a bigger point about the chaos of war, and how even the worst of intentions (stealing Iraqi gold) can lead to altruistic results (saving the innocent lives being ground up by the war).  That Russell shows up in Amsterdam, plus a cast I couldn't resist (and certainly Russell has developed a reputation for great casts, regardless of what he does with them) in Bale, John David Washington, and Margot Robbie.  So when I saw the results for myself, I found myself with an instant personal favorite, which for me turned out to be a classic waiting to be discovered.

The leading factor in my evaluation is Bale's performance.  I haven't seen all of his films (much less some of his more famous, or infamous, ones in American Psycho and The Machinist), but he's long been a favorite, so I have a decent idea of his range, and certainly his willingness to transform himself for a role.  One of the great joys of following a career is seeing an actor age, and what they do with that.  Amsterdam is the first time I've seen him lean into his aging as part of the performance, not merely because the film covers more than a decade of time, but that instead of gaining or losing weight to inform a character, he gets to showcase how his face has changed over the years.  This time it's very much the hair that helps shape the look, a period style that accentuates the effect of seeing Bale look older.  Besides that, he gives an atypically lively performance, a comedic one that gives the film its voice.  I've read critics suggest there's no memorable dialogue in Amsterdam, and even if that were the case (which it is not), the pleasure of Bale's phrasing keeps things moving along nicely.  Too often we take for granted the mere acting, unless it's filling out a greater message, which Bale's does not.  All he does is set the tone.  This film, as a result, is very easy to watch.  It's unlike anything Russell has done before.  Even Clooney didn't get into his Golden Age act until well after Kings.

Washington, who was a breakout star in both BlacKkKlansman and Tenet, has his first real chance to shine on his own merits.  Putting aside my reservations of his physical appearance (how Spike Lee designed the distracting afro) in the former, and Christopher Nolan's patented ambition in the latter, in Amsterdam Washington has a part that rises or falls on its own, how he plays against other actors.  He couldn't ask for better partners than Bale and Robbie, both of whom could very easily swallow him whole if he couldn't keep up with them, but he can.  He's not his father, who commands effortlessly any scene he's in, sometimes with very little dialogue at all.  He doesn't even particularly look like Denzel Washington.  Clean-faced, he almost looks anonymous, but Amsterdam soon gives him a look to match Bale's, and the result is more proof that the man pulls off a beard as well as anyone ever has.  The undercurrent of race relations that never plays out in conflict with Bale or Robbie, or any other character who carries weight in the movie, is instead moved to subtext, a complementary commentary to the reasons for the conspiracy the characters unite against as they attempt to solve a murder mystery.

Probably the critics poopooed the movie since they feared it went against their chosen narrative of the present, a conspiracy plotted against FDR and therefore the country itself that perhaps suggests too closely the Trump debacle.  Whether you choose to interpret it that way isn't mandatary; like any good story it's merely a cautionary tale, and that becomes its second key selling point, a story with an actual point, and one that doesn't lose its compelling lead characters in the process, but rather one that gives them their weight.

There is of course Robbie rounding out the leads, and Hollywood has found another way to explain her volatile charm, like I, Tonya a movie asking you to sympathize with her despite the insane circumstances around her, which her other big 2022 movie, Babylon, didn't quite pull off, leaving the viewer to be lost mesmerized by the spectacle she inevitably creates, in very much the Harley Quinn way.  This girl was determined not to be just a pretty face.  She's the Brad Pitt of actresses, and Amsterdam is ultimate proof.

Rounding out the cast are Robert De Niro, Anya Taylor-Joy, Zoe Saldana, Rami Malek, and of all people Mike Myers (who previously appeared with Robbie in Terminal), a small but crucial role deftly walking the tightrope between comedic and dramatic, evoking his appearance in Inglourious Basterds.

If The Batman hadn't pulled off a miracle by once again redefining its title character and thus further developing one of the modern era's defining fictional creations, I wouldn't hesitate to call Amsterdam the best film of 2022.  It is a masterpiece, and by all rights should have swept all the awards ceremonies.  Hopefully it'll be rediscovered in time.

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood (2019)

rating: ****

the story: A former TV star's bid for career resurrection intertwines with the life of Sharon Tate.

review: A week after seeing it I'm still processing Once Upon A Time In Hollywood.  Sometimes I'm instantly in love with a Quentin Tarantino film (Inglourious Basterds, Django Unchained), other times I'm not sure how devoted I'll be (Jackie Brown, Hateful Eight, even Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs).  The two-volume Kill Bill is sort of in-between, although the second one is closer to instant love.

But of all his movies, Once Upon...is probably closest to Jackie Brown, which was Tarantino's first taste of languid, of just letting his filmmaking speak for itself rather than splashy violence (Reservoir Dogs) or splashy stars (Pulp Fiction) do the talking (along with the characters, naturally).  Once Upon takes its tone from Margot Robbie's Sharon Tate, who today is best known for being horribly murdered at the behest of Charles Manson.  Tarantino has stated that he wanted Tate to exist apart from that narrative.  In fact, Once Upon... becomes his second film, after Inglourious Basterds, to deliberately rewrite history, in allowing Tate to avoid her fate, and it's in that regard that the film reaches its highest note and possibly the note on which the entire movie will ultimately be judged.

But Robbie's Tate isn't really the star of the movie.  That honor falls to Leonardo DiCaprio, who's featured as the former TV star, a fictional character, who has been struggling to find meaningful roles.  His TV show was a western, and by the time we catch up with him he's being cast in his latest guest spot in another one, and as Tarantino presents it the material becomes a movie-within-a-movie, something I wish he'd done with Django Unchained (as a flashback-of-sorts for the Brunhilda myth), which for some viewers might be a needless tangent, but it helps put the character in context, how he views himself, and thus how everything would turn out for all the characters if we followed their narratives equally.  Metaphorically, you understand.

Just below DiCaprio is Brad Pitt playing his former stunt double, now personal assistant.  After, oh, about a decade of sliding toward irrelevance and being best known for his relationship with Angelina Jolie, Pitt's performance in Once Upon... is almost akin to Travolta in Pulp Fiction, a giant reminder of his considerable talents, the full impact of his charismatic screen presence.  He's got the best scene, too, a fight with Bruce Lee that becomes better as it builds, which is interesting for Tarantino, who usually accomplishes the bulk of his work with words.  It's another subtle evolution of his filmmaking mastery.

Among the supporting players are Al Pacino (allowing himself a rare character role), Bruce Dern, and Kurt Russell, who's probably in the best sweet spot of his career (previewed, in some ways, by Death Proof, with a great spotlight in Hateful Eight).

But the ending is the real selling point.  As I said, Tarantino allows Sharon Tate to cheat fate.  In doing so, he probably allows Tate's husband, at the time of her death, Roman Polanski a reboot as well.  Polanski at one time was known simply as a brilliant director.  He was just coming off his breakthrough film, Rosemary's Baby, at the time, and would later direct Chinatown and The Pianist, but his career was forever tarnished by a rape charge he chose exile from America to avoid prosecution over.  Is it reasonable to assume Tate's death played a role in the sequence of events that led to this fate?  Is Tarantino saving two lives here?  That's how I choose to view it, anyway.

Giving Tate the focus, rather than Charles Manson, is itself a noteworthy choice on Tarantino's part.  It takes the power away from Manson, who entered virtual cultural immortality as the result of ordering Tate's murder, and Tate herself became just a name.  In effect, Tarantino is addressing two major sins, and offering a chance at correction, that've haunted Hollywood for fifty years, which is noteworthy in and of itself at a time when Hollywood has been playing a moral authority.  Is it a direct criticism?  Will Hollywood even care, come the Oscars next year, or merely be flattered, as it tends to be, when presented as subject matter?  If it gives Tarantino his long-deserved Academy recognition, all the better.

Perhaps, in time, I'll better understand how much I appreciate this one.  For now I'll be a little cautious.  But like all Tarantino's movies, it won't be easy to forget.  Not by a long shot.  Yeah....