Cyrano

 

British director Joe Wright might well be the last Hollywood romantic in both his selection of stories and how he chooses to tell them. Atonement (2007) and Anna Karenina (2012) were sweeping, dramatic renderings of a contemporary and classic tale, respectively, that shimmered with their characters' longings and desires, intemperance and regret.

Wright gives similar treatment to the story of the lovelorn Cyrano de Bergerac, the 17th century French poet and swordsman who pines for the beautiful and, presumably, unattainable Roxanne and channels his ardor through one of her handsome suitors. It is easy to see why this tragic story has so often been adapted for the screen -- Cyrano is every person who was more in love with pride than with truth and paid the price for it.

Wright's rendering -- while a bit uneven in the casting -- is lush with lyrical beauty, both narratively and musically. For once, a trailer did not include the film's richest moments. The movie's dozen songs were composed by Aaron Dessner and Bryce Dessner with lyricists Matt Berninger and Carin Besser. "Someone to Say" is the film's main romantic theme featured in trailers but three other numbers struck me as wonderfully evocative -- Cyrano's solo "Madly," the trio "Every Letter" and the soldiers' requiem "Where I Fall."

I loved that the picture feels both Baroque and modern, in design and in movement. Some may fault it for merging these tones but I did not mind it as much. Cyrano's opening lines delivered to a crowd of powdered wigs and décolletages have the swagger of a rap battle. I thought it was a wonderful sequence.

Others have noted that Peter Dinklage carries this film on his back as Cyrano, his "ugliness" in this version being his stature. Dinklage, who is also a fine baritone crooner, is without question the reason this film has emotional resonance, even though Haley Bennett as Roxanne, Kelvin Harrison Jr. as her tongue-tied inamorato Christian and Ben Mendelsohn as the lecherous Duke De Guiche all give quality performances.

Dinklage's portrayal -- most of which is conveyed in his eyes -- feels more full-bodied and, somehow, more invested, and one doesn't have to guess where the connection comes from.

Uncharted

 

Ruben Fleischer puts Tom Holland's million-dollar affability to work in the actioner Uncharted, a fairly diverting film based on a popular hidden-treasure game.

Holland -- whose net worth, at age 25, is estimated to be just south of $20 million -- is treasure hunter Nathan Drake, a bartender and "smooth criminal" who inherited his brother's fascination with a fortune hidden by Ferdinand Magellan's crew at some point during their voyage in the 16th century.

Drake is recruited by an older and fundamentally untrustworthy treasure-seeker named Sully (Mark Wahlberg), who claims to be a friend of Drake's brother, Sam, (played as a youth by Rudy Pankow). Sully convinces Drake that he has uncovered important clues to the Magellan gold and needs the younger man to help him find and recover it.

Standing between the two fortune hunters are bad agents, killers and false friends (Antonio Banderas, Tati Gabrielle and Sophia Ali, respectively), and the whole crew globe-trots through increasingly outrageous set pieces following cryptic clues left by the pirates. These breathless scenes -- which are actually the sole reason to see the picture -- are well-staged but in the end feel a bit done.

Death on the Nile

 

Kenneth Branagh's Death on the Nile (2022) is a stylized beauty of a picture that boasts staging and performance affectations that will appeal to fans of Old Hollywood murder mysteries while boring those expecting grittier fare.

As with 2017's Murder on the Orient Express, Branagh teams up with screenwriter Michael Green in recasting an Agatha Christie / Hercule Poirot whodunit as a story of good and bad love between and among "people with property" and "people as property."

After an interesting black and white prologue set during World War I that reveals the origin of Poirot's famous moustache, the story moves forward 20 years to the nuptials of a beautiful English heiress (Gal Gadot) and her handsome but poor beau (Armie Hammer) and their honeymoon cruise in Egypt, where the heiress is killed and all of the invited guests are suspects.

Branagh, a celebrated stage actor and director, has an eye for spacial composition and like his Poirot a fastidiousness for order and symmetry. The movie's interiors are immaculate and pristine; its exteriors expansive and captivating. I thought it was a delightful picture to rest my eyes on and savor the craftsmanship on display.

Dog

 

Co-directors Reid Carolin and Channing Tatum take famliar and bankable formulas -- the buddy picture and the road movie -- and tweak them to fit Tatum's ebullient, mouthy strut and remind viewers of the walking wounded among us.

In Dog, Tatum is cast opposite a Belgian Malinois, and they both play Army Rangers traumatized by duties in the Middle East. They are on a five-day trip to attend the funeral of another Ranger, the dog's handler and Tatum's squadmate who had just killed himself by driving into a tree.

Tatum's sidelined and battle-scarred Briggs is offered the deal of transporting the seemingly unconrollable Lulu from Oregon to Arizona in exchange for another paid assignment, despite doctor's warnings that his head injuries, for which Briggs is being treated, are debilitating. After Lulu attends the funeral, Briggs is to turn her over to the Army to be destroyed.

As one might expect, the story is told episodically and reveals pieces of what Briggs and Lulu have lost in service to their country. The film, which is pretty entertaining, plays to Tatum's strapping boyishness but never lets us forget that his character is not a well man. The picture doesn't always maintain its equilibrium but it never falls into pandering or ridicule.

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

 

Marvel Studios routinely blends heroism and vulnerability in its characters but its treatment of the ambivalence Sam Wilson / Falcon (Anthony Mackie) initially feels about assuming the role of Captain America, a post nearly everyone but Wilson sees he is supremely suited for, is exceptionally well-done, even if the last episode gets a little preachy.

In The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, the usual fight-and-flight superhero plotting is enhanced by references to America's racial history, personoified by Carl Lumbly's Isaiah Bradley, a Black man used for super-soldier experimentation and then abandoned. (Echoes of the Tuskegee Experiments are surely not accidental.)

Bradley's resentment and Wilson's anxiousness mixed with the elevation of a "fair-haired boy," a traumatized Afghan veteran played by Wyatt Russell, to be the new Captain America converge into a compelling statement about truth and legitimacy.

Underpinning all of this are the increasingly dangerous actions of a racially diverse, globe-trotting band of amped-up, disaffected youths pushing for world change. Who is best suited to respond to the threat?

The series' white characters are neither rabid racists nor woke warriors. Everyone seems to be a work-in-progress -- another characteristic to be found in the best of the Marvel Universe features. This is especially true of Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier.

An important, albeit brief, exchange comes in the final episode when Barnes apologizes to Wilson for pressing him to step up, not understanding what it would mean for a Black man to take up Captain America's shield (literally and figuratively). This felt like a genuinely healthy exchange between friends/co-workers/partners. Sometimes all it takes is owning one's ignorance.

Marvel fans will know Barnes' character has a special affinity with Black characters, having been treated and protected in Black Panther's Wakanda, where he was known as White Wolf. Because of his long residence in that African nation, he was, as the saying goes, "invited to the barbecue," where he was shown along with Wilson's family and friends at the episode's end.

Licorice Pizza

True to form, Paul Thomas Anderson's latest film Licorice Pizza blends exactness with surrealism in its depiction of a visionary schemer (and / or scammer) in his habitat.

Anderson's period and subject is early '70s Southern California where a 15-year-old entrepreneur and actor named Gary Valentine (Cooper Hoffman, son of the late Philip Seymour Hoffman), of Sherman Oaks, convinces an aimless and angry young woman named Alana Kane (Alana Haim) to join him in a few misshapened money-making opportunities (selling waterbeds, opening a pinball arcade), with the unspoken assumption that one day she would disrobe.

Young Gary joins the ranks of Anderson's other great minds -- the porn producer of Boogie Nights (1997), the petroleum prospector of There Will Be Blood (2007), the conniving conman of The Master (2012), the fashion fetishist of Phantom Thread (2017) -- but Gary's obsessions don't lead to ruin or madness. He realizes chasing a dream often leaves one wondering what is to be done with the dream once caught. Maybe life's true joy is in the chase. An important consideration.

Alana's journey is as important as Gary's as she commandeers his plans to keep them on the rails. She discovers a lot about her own capacities, separate from the alienating expectations of her family or her semi-employed friends or the false idols she's erected to give the world meaning. Alana's brashness gives the picture its spark, her brittleness its heart.

Licorce Pizza takes its name from a chain of California record stores and the film itself features an abundance of Nixon-era AM radio hits.

Best Picture 2022

 

FWIW, this year's Best Picture Oscar nominations feel mostly right to me.

BELFAST -- Warm and affectionate movie directed by and featuring British film royalty, both nominated along with the director, Kenneth Branaugh. Strong story. Leads weren't nominated. Won't win.

CODA -- Jagged, unapologetic and emotive film that features deaf actors (one nominated) as central players. Touching and affirming. Won't win.

DON'T LOOK UP -- Smart-ass message movie lousy with Hollywood A-listers and a killer ending but an unrelentingly condescending tone. Won't win.

DRIVE MY CAR -- Little-seen, foreign-language film based on a story by a contemporary literary master, Haruki Murakami. Dunno. Haven't seen it.

DUNE -- Technically spectacular re-crafting of an impossible story. No acting nominations. And the director wasn't nominated. Won't win the big prize.

KING RICHARD -- Will Smith-produced story of the exceptional, though flawed, man who groomed two tennis champions. Smith might win, he's overdue. His co-star Anjanue Ellis is also nominated for several strong scenes and holding her own with Smith's imposing on-screen presence. Picture won't win.

LICORICE PIZZA -- So much works about this picture even when the audience feels they've wandered into madness. But that's Paul Thomas Anderson -- as distinctive a cinematic vision as any. Neither of the leads is nominated. The script crackles but the movie won't win.

NIGHTMARE ALLEY -- Beautiful homage to film noir. Visually splendid but director Guillermo del Toro was not nominated, oddly, nor was any of the cast. Won't win.

THE POWER OF THE DOG -- Everything works in this picture. Story, performances and scoping. Four acting nominations, including Jesse Plemons, who was overlooked for the Globes. And Jane Campion is nominated for directing. Almost a sure thing.

WEST SIDE STORY -- It's got Spielberg, a star-making supporting performance from Ariana DuBose, and is wonderful in the moment but, weirdly, has little staying power. Won't win.