[Review] Marriage Story

There are plenty of films about couples getting together, but what about the ones splitting apart?

Noah Baumbach’s significantly raw and affecting drama Marriage Story puts it all on the table and stamps the separation in blood. “Divorce Story” might be a more accurate title, but either way, it’s excellent. 

Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson play a director/actress duo. They’re also husband and wife. And the fact of the matter is: they’re not happy together anymore. Divorce papers are served and an intense custody battle ensues. The fallout drops like an anvil and sets off a bitter and depressing chain of hectic turmoil, headache-inducing complexities, and heavy emotions that cut like an unshakable whirlwind of daggers. 

It’s messy and complicated. Gut-wrenching and heartbreaking. It’s a painfully honest portrait of what happens when a disintegrating marriage finally hits the fan and unravels. The narrative turns into a mental and verbal boxing match where every move is dirty and every punch is a low blow.

Baumbach’s writing is impeccable here. His whip-smart dialogue hits hard and precise, and it’s rife with conflict and thoughtfulness, as well as bits of humor amidst all the stress. Johansson and Driver are tremendous here, giving memorable performances that are likely to fire them into the Oscar race. There’s a particularly phenomenal scene of a heated argument that takes place about a third of the way through. We witness love turn to hate before our eyes. We witness subtle digs turn into atomic bombs. It’s a real vein-popping-out-of-the-forehead type of scene. It’s a scene that’s so moving and emotionally charged that you’ll be as exhausted as you are impressed by the time it cuts. A perfectly cast Laura Dern and Ray Liotta clock in as cut-throat attorneys, and they’re both remarkable here.

Marriage Story is a film of scripts and stages and documents. A film of closed chapters and open wounds. It’s amazing how much power one little piece of paper holds.

* 9/10 *

[Review] A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood

Is there anything more wholesome than Tom Hanks playing Mr. Rogers?

A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood presents an appropriately charming portrayal of the beloved icon, and it’s a slightly disappointing shame that the plot doesn’t focus more on him.

The story begins with Lloyd Vogel (Matthew Rhys), a cynical journalist who’s assigned to interview and write a profile on Fred Rogers himself, and the guy begins to gain  a new perspective on life. 

Just like the long-running series “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood”, this film is simple and elegant and it moves at a relaxing pace. There are some nifty visual sequences that recreate the miniature scale city views from the show, and they add a really nice touch. The film is based on a personal Esquire article, so a big chunk of the plot’s middle section covers Lloyd’s strained relationship with his father (played by Chris Cooper), and oftentimes it comes off as unsatisfying melodrama. So much time is spent on it that, at a certain point, you might find yourself asking Where the heck is Mister Rogers?

Thankfully, Tom Hanks’ terrific performance makes it all worthwhile. The film is pleasantly delightful every second he’s on the screen. He’s immensely warm and watchable. Soft spoken and gentle. Hanks embodies the compassion, empathy, and understanding that Fred Rogers became so well-known for. You feel like he’d be super nice to you. You feel like you’re special. You feel like you matter. Whenever he’s not in the screen, his presence is sorely missed.

Commendably, the film provides some important messages and great Mister Roger-isms, as well as a hand-puppet-ful of very moving moments, and a really great final image. I just wish they would have spent more time in Mister Rogers’ actual neighborhood. 

( 7.5/10 )

[Review] Dolemite Is My Name

Eddie Murphy returns to give one of the best performances of his career with Dolemite Is My Name — a funny, funky, groovy, entertaining romp of over-the-top comedy and showbiz exploits.

Murphy plays Rudy Ray Moore, a down-and-out comedian who creates a raunchy and flamboyant alter ego named Dolemite as an attempt to re-spark his career. Following his debut performance, he blows up faster than you can say Dolemite Is My Name. A nationwide tour and several hit albums (even a Christmas album — that’s how you know you’ve made it) later, he’s ready to take his talents to the big screen. A huge chunk of the duration follows the making of the Dolemite movie — a kung-fu-themed blaxploitation film with “pimps and guns and boobies.” Will it ever get made? Will it be good? Will the studios want it? Will the people want it? 

Eddie Murphy gives a hilarious tour de force performance. He’s practically in every single scene and he kills it with riotous energy, enthusiasm, and swagger. There’s even a couple of tender, serious moments that add range and dimension to his character. The supporting cast is stacked. Keegan-Michael Key, Snoop Dogg, Mike Epps, Craig Robinson, Tituss Burgess, Chris Rock, and Wesley Snipes (hysterical) all make amusing appearances. 

The elaborate production is spunked with flair and verve, and there’s enough funny lines and sight gags to keep you cracking up every minute. It also contains one of the funniest sex scenes ever. The film is surprisingly clever, too. The story dives into the art of performance art, the art of hustling and grinding, the art of faking it ‘til you make it, and the art of navigating the industry. There’s thoughtful commentary on racial politics, ambition, inspiration, critic reception versus audience reception, and superstardom as well. 

It’s invigorating. It’s uproarious. And it knocks ‘em dead. Let Dolemite be an inspiration to us all. Get out and get it!

* 8.5/10 *

[Review] The Irishman

Martin Scorsese. Robert De Niro. Joe Pesci. Al Pacino. What more do you need?

That’s what we get in The Irishman, a sprawling mob epic that proves to be more than just a “Been there, done that.”

De Niro plays Frank Sheeran, a truck driver turned hitman (aka “house painter”) who gets involved with the likes of organized crime boss Russell Bufalino (Pesci) and powerful teamster Jimmy Hoffa (Pacino). The story profiles his complicated life of guns, predicaments, and haunts into a journey of old age.

While the iconic Goodfellas was an in-your-face, cocaine-fueled trash compactor of gangster life, The Irishman sits back in a rocking chair and reflects. It’s ruminative and remorseful. Solemn and grave. And even though it clocks in at a deliberate three-and-half hours, it feels immensely watchable. Scorsese, like the master he is, orchestrates the events with a keen eye, a pensive focus, and a grand touch. The plot spans several decades and uses de-aging technology on the actors, and it works pretty seamlessly. Steven Zaillian’s screenplay is superbly crafted with boiling conflict, great dialogue, and a cackleworthy sense of humor — especially in the film’s more traditional first half. The picture is lushly filmed and canvased with some killer shots, and I’m not talking about all the pulled triggers. 

It comes at no surprise that the performances are excellent. De Niro anchors the saga with striking stares and line deliveries of conviction. You won’t find a hot-headed Pesci here. Instead, he’s effectively quiet and meditative. If you weren’t aware of his character’s background, you might consider him as a grandfatherly figure. Pacino shines with range and dimension and a commanding screen presence, reminding us that he’s one of the greatest of all time. Ray Romano, Bobby Cannavalle (with a funny hairline), Anna Paquin, Jesse Plemmons, Harvey Keitel, and colorful rapper Action Bronson round out the top-notch supporting cast. There’s also a lot of “Hey there’s that guy!” moments. Plenty of alums from “The Sopranos” and “Boardwalk Empire” show up to pay their respects.

It might not fill bedroom walls with film posters or be as instantly memorable as some of Scorsese’s past efforts, but The Irishman is still a late career triumph for the legendary filmmaker, as well as an altered view of the American mob world that he’s become so renowned for exploring. Being a wiseguy takes a toll — that is — if you even make it that far. 

* 9/10 *

[Review] Everybody’s Everything

Sometime in late 2016, I stumbled across a scrawny, tattooed faced kid who made music that sounded like bold mixture of rap, pop-punk, and emo. Think — Green Day meets Chief Keef... My Chemical Romance meets Future. Nirvana meets Lil B. It didn’t fully click with me first, but I found myself always being drawn back to it. It became fascinating. I couldn’t look away. And pretty soon it became an all-out obsession as I digged deeper, intently seeking out every piece of music he would go on to release.

That artist’s name was Lil Peep (real name Gustav Ahr). His music infiltrated my universe. It captivated me, it comforted me, and I listed to it on repeat for all of 2017. That very same year, on November 15th, I woke up to the gut-wrenching news that my new favorite artist had suddenly died from a drug overdose — the same chemical that took Prince away. He was just 21 years old. I cried, I felt sick, and I listened to his music in a whole new way.

Everybody’s Everything (the title is taken from one of Lil Peep’s poignant final messages to his fans) is a new Terrence Malick-produced documentary about  Gus’s whirlwind of a life. The superb film serves as a remarkably in-depth and impressively comprehensive portrait of Lil Peep’s incredibly fast rise to prominence and his tragic departure from this world.

The well-edited film is stocked with intimate and raw footage of Peep that ranges from exciting to warm to funny to startling to disturbing to heartbreaking. It’s complete with candid interviews from managers, music writers, producers, peers, significant collaborators like Lil Tracy and ILoveMakonnen, and his very own mother Liza Womack, who has handled Peep’s legacy with grace and class and love. “I’m still doing all this because I don’t want to let him go,” she says with tears in her eyes. Another extremely emotional element of the documentary is the narrative inclusion of the beautiful letters that Peep’s beloved grandpa wrote to him as he began his ascension to stardom. The letters give us a heartfelt look at Lil Peep as a human being. He was a gentle soul, a highly motivated worker, and he never wanted to disappoint anyone. This is driven home by the sweet childhood footage of him that’s interspersed throughout the film. His wide-eyed innocence never really left, even when things got really dark.

Lil Peep’s influence and innovation is made strikingly clear here. He essentially created his own genre and provided a powerful voice for outsiders and people battling their own personal demons — and he did it with equal parts magnetic swagger and heart-on-sleeve vulnerability. His music was sonically ambitious, potent, and chill-inducing, and it will live on.

Everybody’s Everything is a lovingly crafted ode to an amazing artist and it’s a troubling cautionary tale of a young light gone way too soon.

Rest In Peep.