Another Overnight Train: Kyiv to Warsawby Randi / May 14, 2018
It’s Theatre Thursday! Today we are talking about “Red” on the West End, playing until the end of July.
Although giving props to white men right about now is the last thing we should be doing, I have to give some (is it a mass noun?) to white male playwright John Logan for being the first person to depict serious art and the modern art world without making me scream from the cringe. (“Sunday in the Park with George” is not about modern art and it is still the best depiction of the artist and the creative process ever to exist in the history of the world.) Whenever I’ve watched stories about self-important artists, fictional or not, or even just gone to a modern art museum (ew and oh no) my main thoughts have been ‘oh my gooooood get over yourself’. The whole ‘I have something to say and this splash of paint thrown against a singed canvas represents that but also progress and our birth’ charade makes my blood boil. Maybe it’s just because artists are so often portrayed in pop culture as pretentious wankers who really believe they have something urgent to say but they really really don’t, like Sky in “Red Oaks” (great under-the-radar show, go watch it). And all of her insufferable artist friends man alive they are the perfect example of this. You just want to Cher in Moonstruck all of them. Anyway before I start ranting even more about all the various portrayals of arrogant, affected artists in movies and TV, let’s talk about this representation of a modern artist that I actually bought into and understood, the play “Red”, about Mark Rothko’s tortured creative process.
Although giving props to white men right about now is the last thing we should be doing, I have to give some (is it a mass noun?) to white male playwright John Logan for being the first person to depict serious art and the modern art world without making me scream from the cringe. (“Sunday in the Park with George” is not about modern art and it is still the best depiction of the artist and the creative process ever to exist in the history of the world.) Whenever I’ve watched stories about self-important artists, fictional or not, or even just gone to a modern art museum (ew and oh no) my main thoughts have been ‘oh my gooooood get over yourself’. The whole ‘I have something to say and this splash of paint thrown against a singed canvas represents that but also progress and our birth’ charade makes my blood boil. Maybe it’s just because artists are so often portrayed in pop culture as pretentious wankers who really believe they have something urgent to say but they really really don’t, like Sky in “Red Oaks” (great under-the-radar show, go watch it). And all of her insufferable artist friends man alive they are the perfect example of this. You just want to Cher in Moonstruck all of them. Anyway before I start ranting even more about all the various portrayals of arrogant, affected artists in movies and TV, let’s talk about this representation of a modern artist that I actually bought into and understood, the play “Red”, about Mark Rothko’s tortured creative process.
It’s quite surprising that the subject of a play that made me more sympathetic to the strife and struggles of tormented artists is Mark Rothko, whose famous canvases are exactly the sort that would normally make me comment ‘well I made that same thing when I was five um what’ so yes this play is an achievement. It’s easy to recognize a Rothko work because it’s the one with a smudged rectangle of one color painted on it and if you’re lucky you get a second smudged rectangle of a different color. It’s the epitome of art that I simply don’t understand. It’s not that I like or dislike it but there’s only so much you can ‘feel’ from looking at a smudged rectangle, you know? How do people pay millions of dollars for big canvases with just a messy red square on it? Happily, these are questions that Logan addresses in his play “Red”, which originally premiered in London and now is back on the West End with original star Alfred Molina as Rothko.
Molina’s Rothko is the kind of performance that makes you forget that you are watching one. It quickly lets you dive in and accept that you’re watching Rothko the artist work, without ever thinking about his acting. It’s a rare performer that can so completely inhabit the character like that, erasing any trace of the actor or his well-known past performances and just presenting Rothko on that stage so fully. I didn’t get to see Fred (as his friends call him) perform this role on Broadway after its premiere but I understand now how he could have won that year’s Distinguished Performance Award from the Drama League, the best acting award there is really. I get how this performance could have defined what acting is and should be for a whole season. Fred’s costar in this production fares well but not nearly as expertly. Alfred Enoch plays Rothko’s assistant, and so we have probably the first play in the history of the theatre/the world where 100% of the cast is named Alfred. So, Enoch’s playing the role that won Eddie Redmayne a Tony. I imagine Redmayne, a stellar actor, probably also disappeared into the role, while Enoch, though he does a great job, still showed me that he was Acting quite often, mainly when using props – opening jars, mixing paint. It was often a little too stagey. Honestly, I kept thinking of the part in “Oh, Hello” when they talk about using props and John Mulaney says, “Please, do WAY too much business with the phone. Really show the audience you’ve been working with the prop all week” and Nick Kroll says “Really make a meal out of it.” So that’s what his performance, while commendable, kept reminding me of. A little too unnatural, maybe because most of his career has been onscreen (although that’s over right now #wesforever).
The play begins with the new (fictionalized) assistant arriving for his first day of work. I just looked up what the assistant’s name is and it’s Ken and I’ve never been so surprised by a fact in my life. I don’t think they ever say it but also like who is named Ken anymore. I guess this was supposed to take place more than 50 years ago but were there even Kens then? Ken (I mean) arrives in a suit for his first day of work and that’s cute but his work is in Rothko’s messy, splattered art studio so Rothko’s like “that’s cute, go change” and I like that he was a no bullshit kind of guy like that but at the same time sooooo full of bullshit like when he talks about how his red glop of paint represents everything anyone has ever felt and all that. But wait, like I said I don’t actually think that’s all utter bullshit anymore, actually, because of this play. Watching the creative process and hearing the artist debate what his work means with another artist, kind of in their own Socratic method to get to the heart of the matter, was enlightening for me, a renowned modern art truther.
Mark and Ken work together to produce Mark’s famous four murals for the new Four Seasons restaurant in the Seagram building in Midtown Manhattan. Ken is shocked that Mark accepted such a commission, creating art for a dining room full of rich obnoxious people that he despises. But Mark’s hope is to destroy their appetite, ostensibly by making them confront their inner demons and fears and passions and maybe realize how terrible they are by forcing them to confront what they feel the red means. And that question, what the red means to the individual, is mainly what Ken and Mark discuss in between mixing the paint and prepping the canvas – the latter of which is the most fun bit of the play, and from the looks of the Alfreds afterward, the most exhausting cardio. The question of what the red means, and how different and complex it can be for each individual, and all that talk talk they make in my earholes about it, is honestly what got me to come around on the whole modern art thing. Well at least Rothko’s. Well at least his red series. There is meaning and such depth of emotion and personal history and tragedy and fear and hope behind those colors, even though it looks like a simple square of paint that could have been done by a child. There really is more to it than that. And while I don’t think it should be necessary for a play to make you appreciate art, I’m grateful that this one makes me a little less hateful towards that gallery across the river from me (cough *Tate Modern* cough).
Despite being far from warm, the relationship between the two men is the provocative aspect of the show. I love how time passes for these men – two years at least – and it doesn’t seem like it. Ken seems just as unsettled at the end as he did at the beginning, and Rothko is just as detached, despite their heated discussions. I bet that Ken never showed him any of his own work. Mark wasn’t that kind of guy, the one you show your work to and ask for his ‘honest’ opinion. It would be too honest. Yet it’s clear they care for each other; you just have to understand how the artist’s mind works, as I do now (laugh). Even in his final act towards Ken, Mark doesn’t seem affectionate or caring, but his actions speak much more than his words or demeanor. There’s so much more to them than whether or not Rothko can be a nurturing father figure (he can’t) or whether that’s even what Ken wants. And there’s more than meets the eye with how the action is staged too, like how Ken finds a superdrunk Mark with his hands in his paint bucket one night, an undeniable reference to his real-life suicide. This kind of subtle direction plus the way the characters communicate with each other all feel connected to the issue of the colors and how sensitive the interpretation of them can be to each person, how just the color red can reference an entire lifetime of emotion. “Red” isn’t a big important political play or anything; it feels like a pleasant but small exploration of personalities more than anything. But if it can say so much about art and moreover get you to consider art more thoughtfully and genuinely than you had before, then that seems pretty important.
INFORMATION
The toilets at the Wyndham’s are atrocious. There are TWO ladies toilets for the entire stalls/orchestra section. The line was insane. They need to refurbish and until they do, sit on an aisle upstairs.
Also in need of a redo is their box office. For people picking up tickets at will call (literally everyone), there was ONE person at a makeshift podium handling collection. It was so inefficient I wanted to scream. I can’t with this incompetence all over the West End.
STAGE DOOR
The Alfreds are probably the nicest people who have ever come out of a stage door. Not the most efficient – there’s no Zachs Braff or Levi-style assured handling of the crowd (they would line everyone up for easy photo-taking or just take your phone and do it themselves, pros) but they were just so freaking nice, not turning anyone’s request down, even when they clearly wanted to leave and some old biddy was asking for them to sign her receipts after they already signed her ticket stubs. I wanted to be like ‘you don’t have to do this you can leave now!’ but they were just the sweetest.
Molina’s Rothko is the kind of performance that makes you forget that you are watching one. It quickly lets you dive in and accept that you’re watching Rothko the artist work, without ever thinking about his acting. It’s a rare performer that can so completely inhabit the character like that, erasing any trace of the actor or his well-known past performances and just presenting Rothko on that stage so fully. I didn’t get to see Fred (as his friends call him) perform this role on Broadway after its premiere but I understand now how he could have won that year’s Distinguished Performance Award from the Drama League, the best acting award there is really. I get how this performance could have defined what acting is and should be for a whole season. Fred’s costar in this production fares well but not nearly as expertly. Alfred Enoch plays Rothko’s assistant, and so we have probably the first play in the history of the theatre/the world where 100% of the cast is named Alfred. So, Enoch’s playing the role that won Eddie Redmayne a Tony. I imagine Redmayne, a stellar actor, probably also disappeared into the role, while Enoch, though he does a great job, still showed me that he was Acting quite often, mainly when using props – opening jars, mixing paint. It was often a little too stagey. Honestly, I kept thinking of the part in “Oh, Hello” when they talk about using props and John Mulaney says, “Please, do WAY too much business with the phone. Really show the audience you’ve been working with the prop all week” and Nick Kroll says “Really make a meal out of it.” So that’s what his performance, while commendable, kept reminding me of. A little too unnatural, maybe because most of his career has been onscreen (although that’s over right now #wesforever).
The play begins with the new (fictionalized) assistant arriving for his first day of work. I just looked up what the assistant’s name is and it’s Ken and I’ve never been so surprised by a fact in my life. I don’t think they ever say it but also like who is named Ken anymore. I guess this was supposed to take place more than 50 years ago but were there even Kens then? Ken (I mean) arrives in a suit for his first day of work and that’s cute but his work is in Rothko’s messy, splattered art studio so Rothko’s like “that’s cute, go change” and I like that he was a no bullshit kind of guy like that but at the same time sooooo full of bullshit like when he talks about how his red glop of paint represents everything anyone has ever felt and all that. But wait, like I said I don’t actually think that’s all utter bullshit anymore, actually, because of this play. Watching the creative process and hearing the artist debate what his work means with another artist, kind of in their own Socratic method to get to the heart of the matter, was enlightening for me, a renowned modern art truther.
Mark and Ken work together to produce Mark’s famous four murals for the new Four Seasons restaurant in the Seagram building in Midtown Manhattan. Ken is shocked that Mark accepted such a commission, creating art for a dining room full of rich obnoxious people that he despises. But Mark’s hope is to destroy their appetite, ostensibly by making them confront their inner demons and fears and passions and maybe realize how terrible they are by forcing them to confront what they feel the red means. And that question, what the red means to the individual, is mainly what Ken and Mark discuss in between mixing the paint and prepping the canvas – the latter of which is the most fun bit of the play, and from the looks of the Alfreds afterward, the most exhausting cardio. The question of what the red means, and how different and complex it can be for each individual, and all that talk talk they make in my earholes about it, is honestly what got me to come around on the whole modern art thing. Well at least Rothko’s. Well at least his red series. There is meaning and such depth of emotion and personal history and tragedy and fear and hope behind those colors, even though it looks like a simple square of paint that could have been done by a child. There really is more to it than that. And while I don’t think it should be necessary for a play to make you appreciate art, I’m grateful that this one makes me a little less hateful towards that gallery across the river from me (cough *Tate Modern* cough).
Despite being far from warm, the relationship between the two men is the provocative aspect of the show. I love how time passes for these men – two years at least – and it doesn’t seem like it. Ken seems just as unsettled at the end as he did at the beginning, and Rothko is just as detached, despite their heated discussions. I bet that Ken never showed him any of his own work. Mark wasn’t that kind of guy, the one you show your work to and ask for his ‘honest’ opinion. It would be too honest. Yet it’s clear they care for each other; you just have to understand how the artist’s mind works, as I do now (laugh). Even in his final act towards Ken, Mark doesn’t seem affectionate or caring, but his actions speak much more than his words or demeanor. There’s so much more to them than whether or not Rothko can be a nurturing father figure (he can’t) or whether that’s even what Ken wants. And there’s more than meets the eye with how the action is staged too, like how Ken finds a superdrunk Mark with his hands in his paint bucket one night, an undeniable reference to his real-life suicide. This kind of subtle direction plus the way the characters communicate with each other all feel connected to the issue of the colors and how sensitive the interpretation of them can be to each person, how just the color red can reference an entire lifetime of emotion. “Red” isn’t a big important political play or anything; it feels like a pleasant but small exploration of personalities more than anything. But if it can say so much about art and moreover get you to consider art more thoughtfully and genuinely than you had before, then that seems pretty important.
INFORMATION
The toilets at the Wyndham’s are atrocious. There are TWO ladies toilets for the entire stalls/orchestra section. The line was insane. They need to refurbish and until they do, sit on an aisle upstairs.
Also in need of a redo is their box office. For people picking up tickets at will call (literally everyone), there was ONE person at a makeshift podium handling collection. It was so inefficient I wanted to scream. I can’t with this incompetence all over the West End.
STAGE DOOR
The Alfreds are probably the nicest people who have ever come out of a stage door. Not the most efficient – there’s no Zachs Braff or Levi-style assured handling of the crowd (they would line everyone up for easy photo-taking or just take your phone and do it themselves, pros) but they were just so freaking nice, not turning anyone’s request down, even when they clearly wanted to leave and some old biddy was asking for them to sign her receipts after they already signed her ticket stubs. I wanted to be like ‘you don’t have to do this you can leave now!’ but they were just the sweetest.
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Your Annual Oscars Movie Roundup: 2021 Lockdown Edition
It’s THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR! Well, in normal years. This weekend is the 2021 Academy Awards, which means it’s time for your annual rundown of all the important movies you should know before watching on Sunday. But, fun fact, because we’ve been in lockdown, I didn’t get to see all the movies this year. Like, not even close. It’s very sad. So, to fill in the blanks, I asked some Renowned Movie Experts to weigh in with some of their thoughts. We almost got everything covered! Because no one is as verbose as I am, this means this year’s roundup is a lot shorter than usual! (It’s still hella long, but like normal person long, not carve-out-the-next-three-days-of-your-life-for-reading-through-it-long like previous years.) So without further adieu, here are the notable movies of the past year. Comment with your thoughts/faves/hopes/fears.
Borat Subsequent Moviefilm
Chinqui! I love ah-Borat! Listen, as someone who went to Kazakhstan not not because of Borat, I obviously loved this second moviefilm that exposes the most horrifying aspects of American culture. The Q Anon people were really terrifying; it was too much to handle knowing that they represented so, so many misguided Americans. But everything from Maria Bakalova was brilliant and actually enjoyable; what a find she is. The abortion clinic stuff with the baby Jesus from the cake?! the period dance?! absolute LEDGE.
Crip Camp
“Those hippies were nuts! That wins the Best Overall Message Award, which is: disabled people need to get high too.” – my friend
Da 5 Bloods
Oh rightttt I remember watching this movie like a year ago. IT WAS VERY GORY AND VIOLENT. The only thing worse than being in the Vietnam War is thinking you made it out and then having a personal War Part Deux directed right at your ass. I did NOT enjoy seeing my beloved Norm Lewis chopped up like that! Oh boy. Delroy Lindo wasn’t nominated?? He should have been!
Eurovision Song Contest
Okay this movie was incredible. I can’t wait to watch it again I can’t believe I haven’t rewatched 100x times. Such a me movie. Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams were such a surprise dream comedy team. I can’t believe Rachel is old enough to be Will’s love interest? Wait let me google it to make sure I shouldn’t be railing against how gross it is….Okay he’s 53 and she’s 42 so it passes the test. Anyway it’s nominated for the Husavik song I guess? Should win, hundo p. They built up the idea of the mythical Speorg note throughout the movie and this finale song was a great showcase for it, really paid off. Although – they could have explained the Speorg note by saying ‘you know, it’s the WAHHHH part of WHEN JESUS WAHHHHH in Sister Act 2, when Whoopi turns around shocked?’ and we all would have been like ‘yep of course I know what you are talking about now, who doesn’t.’ Loved the little elves. The elves went too far!!!
The Father
The Father is based on one of Florian Zeller’s plays. He wrote The Father, The Mother, and The Son for the stage, among other The __ shows. I saw The Son in the West End two years ago and I am still shook from it. It was one of the most devastating theatrical experiences. If The Father is even half as devastating – and since it appears it’s about Alzheimers, I’m gonna guess that it is – then boy oh boy that’s some DEH VAH stating shit.
“The father great movie but I can’t remember what it’s about. JK not funny. The Father is about the refusal and denial of people suffering from dementia or in this case Alzheimer’s. But what’s great about this movie is we are put in the mind of the father. The constant changes in family pictures, family members’ furniture, dinners in his house, are all what Anthony is experiencing. It’s what is going on in his mind. Very well done.” – my aunt
Hillbilly Elegy
Lol yeah right I’m not giving that little shitprick JD Vance any more money or time or mental capacity, I don’t care that this movie’s being on Netflix makes it so convenient to watch. PASS. As soon as I move on from this section I’m done giving any thought to that forking Tucker-Carlson-ass-kissing misunderstander of democracy hawhite devil in a short-sleeved collared shirt and khakis, uh GUH BYE. asshole.
Jingle Jangle
The first 20 minutes of this movie are SO PROMISING. The middle hour is SO BORING. When Anika Noni Rose finally FINALLY gets to sing, it is SO FIRE AND AMAZING. And then it’s boring again. Could’ve been so amazing.
Judas and the Black Messiah
Could not find anyone who saw this, unforch.
Mank
I might decide to watch this one day, but that day has not yet come because I still have ethical standards. This is a story about a Jewish man, and they get a famous antisemite to play him? I mean, what the ACTUAL. David Fincher, Laray Mayfield, you’re on my list. Cannot believe Gary is nominated for Best Actor for this absolute nonsense. NONSENSE. [The image description of me right now would be Gritty saying ‘fuck around and find out.’]
Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom
A few years ago, I reviewed the Sharon D. Clarke-starring stage version of Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom in the West End and admitted that the play did not and does not work for me. I never found it as compelling as it should be. It felt like a series of often engrossing monologues but with no plot, no force driving it forward. In repeated productions, it was absolutely the case that the parts were greater than the whole, and the whole never lived up to what its parts promised.
I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but the film version completely unlocked this work for me in a way stage productions could not. With the magic of George C. Wolfe’s direction (who doesn’t love this man?), the story revealed that it did indeed have forward momentum, so much so that it became a locomotive that kept driving forward with all the force in the world. Unlike the play productions I’ve seen, the work moved undeniably towards a climax even though it was all talk, and even though the build-up is subtle, simmering under the surface. The monologues worked now as plot, as forward-looking action, rather than the stagnant feel of the play. Most of this successful difference is due to the direction, yes, but also to the shockingly complex and superb performance of Chadwick Boseman. He took his character and made it so deep, so deeply felt, and so complicated and I can’t believe anything but that this was the seminal performance of this role. And that’s why this film worked better than stage productions. Because of Chadwick, and because the camera could focus on how he was making this show from the inside out.
Wolfe clearly wanted the audience to surrender to Levee’s story, and that surrender is what the show depends on to work. I realize that now, and that’s why this movie version was the first time Ma Rainey succeeded for me, because Chadwick Boseman might be the first person in fully and completely take this role and do it so fully and so well that he made the whole thing work. Viola Davis was as great as always, and made the role of Ma Rainey actually feel like a lead role, whereas onstage you are always surprised to realize that she seems like a minor supporting role.
The Midnight Sky
In my mind, this is the George-Clooney-trying-to-look-unattractive-for-the-Academy-and-telling-a-NASA-story-but-without-sufficient-backstory-so-you’re-like-hey-why-is-the-world-ending-oh-you-don’t-think-it’s-important-or-necessary-for-us-to-know-because-it’s-a-Netflix-movie-cool-got-it-sad movie. I saw it a while ago but from what I remember, George is dying and so is Earth, but Netflix was like ‘let’s save some money by cancelling Glow and by not explaining why the Earth is bum, no one will care about either’ and they are SO WRONG ABOUT BOTH. They did explain why George is dying though – because he’s sick. I feeeel like it’s more important for this story to know why the Earth is now unlivable though and why it’s bad that anyone is left on it, but that’s just me that’s just me I’m weird.
Like News of the World, infra, this movie was continuous anxiety as you feared everything would go wrong, and then everything did go wrong. The little girl actress (Caoilinn Springall) was phenomenal. So cute and sad. I just looked on imdb to find her name and my goodness – I forgot that this movie had Felicity Jones, Demian Bichir, Kyle Chandler, David Oyelowo??? Like completely forgot that whole aspect of the film. Getting it confused with the space crew captained by Kate Mara in another movie (The Martian??). I did NOT forget that Tim Russ was in it, because he’s in it for literally 5 seconds and I screamed OH MY GOD IS THAT TUVOK, and it was, and then he wasn’t in it anymore, which is bullshit; I hope he had a bigger role and it just got cut in editing but he still got that coin.
Minari
Okay this movie was superb and not just because of the cute little boy and I know we have a lot to cover but MY GOODNESS THE LITTLE BOY WAS SO GD CUTE I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH I WANT TO GIVE HIM A HUG AND I KNOW THAT’S WEIRD BECAUSE I’M AN ADULT AND I’M NOT A PEDO BUT OMG I LOVE HIM.
Minari was such a beeyootiful, moving, sad, lovely film about a Korean immigrant family just trying to grow some good veggies so they can stop chicken sexing is that so much to ask for, universe?? The family has so many hardships and they are TRYING and this poor little boy is so cute and so sick, and, as Matilda would say, that’s not RIGHT. The grandma is the best character in a movie maybe all year, just the funniest baddest-ass lady ever, and the only funnier badder-assed lady is the actual actress who played her, Youn Yuh-jung, who had the greatest BAFTA acceptance speech where she said she was happy to get recognition from the Brits because they are usually so snobby about everything, my goodness she’s the best. I hope she wins the Oscar (either her or Maria Bakalova). She made her scenes so hilarious and then so heart-breaking. This is such a wonderful movie about trying to make a life in America. It’s the most heartfelt American movie all year, so eff the Golden Globes, as usual/always.
Vegan warning: lots and lots of ‘chicken sexing’.
Mulan
“I saw Mulan in February 2020 why is this on your list?” – my dad
My Octopus Teacher
“I saw octopus teacher. Can’t eat octopus anymore. They are smarter than me.” – my aunt [Ed. note: octopi are smarter than ALL OF US please leave them alone] [Ed. note #2 – she lasted a week before eating it again.]
“The ultimate tragedy of the Oscars this year is that the octopus in My Octopus Teacher, humbly and simply named “Her”, was snubbed for best actress.” – my friend
News of the World
I have trouble watching content that is stressful because I get anxietyyyyyyyy and this movie was like two hours of pressure-cooking simmering tension. I was so scared the entire time that everything was going to go wrong and boy howdy everything would go wrong for them. THanx plus little German girl (Helena Zengel) were a power duo and I adored them and I wanted things to STOP GOING WRONG FOR THEM. I loved how subtly and well the film built their bond. I loved the ending. I did not love the anxiety but that’s show biz, kid.
Just as with Minari and Midnight Clooney Movie, the child actor here was amazing. Did Sydney Lucas put something in the water?? Jacob Tremblay giving Zoom lessons? The kids this year are UNREAL.
Nomadland
“I procrastinated in watching Nomadland for a long time. When I finally watched, I was immediately sucked in to the unique story. What makes this movie stand out is the semi-documentary feel of it, due to everyone onscreen being non-actors, aside from Frances McDormand and David Strathairn. This adds an amazing depth of realism to a sad story. Friends and relatives offer Frances a home with them following her personal loss, but her fierce independent spirit and desire for freedom prevent any acceptance of these gestures. We see Nomads working odd jobs when they want to, or when they need gas money. They are a floating community, generous of spirit and human kindness, living in vans or trailers. Director Chloe Zhao blends all of these realistic emotions into a framework that lets the viewer really “get it”, and by the end of the movie you fully understand what drives this character to keep driving her “home” down the road. This is the kind of movie that sticks with you for a while, as you ponder the lifestyle and marvel at how well the true-life participants help tell the story. I liked this movie Norm. I laughed, I cried, I stuffed my face.” – my dad
“I appreciate you for letting me look at raw Frances McDormand footage for an hour and 50 minutes, even while she pooped.” – my friend
“Nomadland that could be the new America soon.” – my aunt
“I really liked No Man’s Land.” – my mom
One Night in Miami
“It was one of the more ambitious motel movies in film history. Will Smith was a better Ali. It would’ve been better as a Sam Cooke biopic – Aaron Burr was the best part, worthy of that supporting actor nom.” – my brother
Palm Springs
Ugh I loved this movie. Andy Samberg AND Cristin Milioti?? Girl (from Once), did you write it for me? This movie was like Michael Schur TV show writing plus Groundhog Day plus Andy Samberg humor. As a guy stuck in a time loop, Andy plays a darker, rougher Jake Peralta, since Groundhog Day shenanigans will really fork you up. Cristin is the Girl who accidentally gets sucked into the loop as well. JK Simmons is also stuck! What fun! He’s terrifying! It’s so good. They have a lot of fun once they accept that there’s no getting out of it, and I loved that they went through the spectrum of acceptance and decided to indeed get out of it, by any means necessary. I wonder how many years I’d have to spend living the same day over and over before I’d learn quantum physics.
Pieces of a Woman
“Wish there was a category for Best Opening Scene Before Showing Movie Title. The opening was powerful, dark, gripping, and you didn’t even tell us what we were watching for a solid 30 minutes. Really brought on the intrigue.” – my friend
“Pieces of a Woman – very sad but didn’t see why they needed to tie in the Holocaust and her mom into this.” – my aunt
Promising Young Woman
“My favorite was Promising Young Woman – revenge is great but not in her case. I want Emerald Fennell to win because I not only loved her film, I loved her as my Prince Charles’s lover Camilla in the crown. Brilliant. ” -my aunt
“I hated Promising Young Woman more than Gigli but I’m alone on that.” – my cousin
Soul
Tina Fey, man. I know this movie has so much greatness to offer that I should be concentrating on first but man, she really proved herself as an animated character voice actor in a time when actual voice actors lose out on animated roles to big name celebrities like Tina Fey.
Soul was a big surprise. I did zero reading about it before it was released and I watched it as soon as it dropped on Disney+. I did not know the main character was going to die? like immediately?? and it wasn’t my favorite tv show (The Good Place but you know that)??? and that he’d strive somehow to get back to our realm and return to his life and live his dreams?! and the little munchkin fetus he befriends (Tina!) was going to have some RELEVATIONS that both helped and threatened them both?! THAT’S SOME REAL SHIT RIGHT THERE.
Soul cut me REAL deep, Shrek. I love loved that it was about so much beauty: living your life to the fullest, loving your family, and most importantly living your dreams – your actual dreams, and not dreams that you’ve been telling yourself are your dreams your whole life long. Sometimes dreams aren’t what you tell yourself! Yay now I have The Cranberries in my head! OHHH MYYY LIIIIIFE IS CHANGING EVERY DAYYYYY IN EVERY POSSIBLE WAYYYY (lol it’s REALLY not, 14 months of same same).
Sound of Metal
Oh I need to begin by telling you that when we put this movie on, husbo said “We’re off to see the Rizard!” Nice.
This movie begins with literally the worst song I have ever heard in my entire life, and then soon you get so upset at the idea that the main character might not be able to hear that song. Now that’s a good movie.
Riz Ahmed, without doing much showy acting despite being given a role that could have easily been Overacted, is so natural and convincing as the drummer going through this traumatic, life-changing event. As his character Ruben loses the ability to continue his normal way of life, he tries at first to push everyone away to maintain some semblance of independence. He’s not overly sympathetic but that makes him all the more relatable. As he becomes more comfortable with his new community, and more accepting of his needs, his shell softens and makes him more vulnerable and likeable and so sympathetic that it’s like a gd puppy that you just want to protect because what else would you do with a deaf puppy except protect at all costs? Probably not what they were going for here, but man, I just wanted him to be okay.
I loved the second act with his new community, with the wonderful Paul Raci leading. The scene when Paul has to enforce the rules of the homestead, my goodness. Such a difficult but understandable situation from both of their perspectives which is GREAT FILMAKING BABY. When you set out to watch a movie about a musician going deaf, you know you’re gonna feel some shit, but I did not expect the hurt to hit deepest when said musician is drumming on a slide so a deaf child can feel his drumming. That moment is when I realized the greatness of this film. And when I cried. A lot. I thought the end section in France kind of petered a tad in its direction but the end made it all good, all good, so good.
Tenet
“I wish I had the CliffsNotes so I could understand what was going on.” – a person my dad works with
The Trial of the Chicago 7
Man ALIVE the justice system has been UTTERLY FORKED for so, so long. Like since it was created. It was built on racism and injustice and even though we are celebrating one positive result from it this week, that doesn’t mean the system as a whole is not broken and skewed towards injustice. Look at the harm this one muhfuhking judge could do! Man Frank Langella really never cares that he makes you despise him so successfully!
This ensemble was so impressive even though it was all men. I really love how cool Jews in the ’60s were. They were like…the coolest muhfuhs around. Sacha Baron Cohen and Jeremy Strong (I initially wrote Jason Schwartzman as I honestly remembered him clearly being in this movie and I am shook that I am misremembering) as Abbie Hoffman and Jerry Rubin were just so cool. Big Jewish stoner but cool af energy. SBC truly is incredible in anything he gets his hands on, including but not limited to publicly eviscerating Mark Zuckerberg. Also, give me a movie that provides not one but both of my skinny pale faves – Joey Gordon-Levitt and Noah Robbins (different brands of faves, obviously) – and we’re already set. But when it’s a great, poignant movie about social justice and the broken racist justice system and it’s incredibly well done even though it’s more than 2 hours and this past year destroyed my attention span but I still was riveted the entire time? forgettaboutittttt.
The White Tiger
DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE.
That’s the main thing.
A central theme of this film, a film that leaves you sitting slack-jawed buggy-eyed not sure what to do except stare forward in dismay and disarray, is that Indians of lower classes are kept in a constant state of servitude that they can’t get out of, like chickens in a coop who know they will be slaughtered but don’t move. Our protagonist, the riveting discovery of an actor Adarsh Gourav, acknowledges this way of being, but is determined to break out of his fate.
The main guy, Balram, isn’t a great guy even before he REALLY isn’t a great guy, which I guess is important so that you feel for his situation and have empathy without it being obvious, which is more realistic and shows you should have empathy for everyone even if they aren’t great people. But like, he really pissed me off, and not just because of the vitiligo jokes (I guess my beef is with the writer for that one, ARAVIND). I mean pobody’s nerfect and all that but they did give enough subtle support throughout the film to bolster his big climactic moment, which I watched through my fingers.
The most interesting aspects of this really well done film came from the exploration of class and culture in provocative ways. Any film about Indian servitude can address the same problem of castes and control and never being able to really change your situation. But I thought the most interesting part here was when our American feminist character, played by Priyanka Nick Chopra Jonas, thought she was being very good and very helpful by telling her servant so forcefully that he should live his own life, to the point that she gets angry when he can’t just flip a switch and understand and accept her advice. She’s trying to help but it ends up being very rude and inconsiderate since he can’t adjust easily to her way of thinking, or change everything he knows to be true that’s ingrained in him, even though he wants to please her and even though she, well, means well. It’s COMPLICATED. Like the Da Vinci Code. These scenes really nail the complex tone of the film along with scenes like when she yells at him for speaking rudely to a beggar child – right before she hits a beggar child with the car. It did NOT make me want to go to India. Or a Jonas Bros. concert.
Gourav was so exceptional in this. When he signs the confession to please his masters and he’s smiling at them while his eyes tear? MY GOODNESS. I’m glad he was nominated for the BAFTA (Brits getting something right for once) but I dare someone to explain to me how he wasn’t Academied, as that scene alone put him at least on equal footing to the others in that category, but really above Gary Old Racist Man.
My favorite part was how often they called the female politician simply The Great Socialist. A title Bernie could only dream of. Of course she ended up being corrupt though (I don’t like how they continue to besmirch socialism). Apparently in the book she was a man so ugh it’s good to increase female representation I guess but it’s kind of magoo that the female characters were the corrupt politician, the annoying ancient grandmother, and Priyanka Chopra (who was very good).
Vegan warning: cruelty of roosters in coops shown for representation of the (at least important) central metaphor. Also human warning: death of a child, lots of sad children.
“So, award season – not so good.” – my aunt
Does My Bomb Look Big in This? Fantastic, Riveting Work at the Soho
Today is Theatre Thursday! Today’s show is at the Soho Theatre in London until June 8.
Nyla Levy’s sharp play Does My Bomb Look Big in This? wasn’t on my radar, at least not my tickets-months-in-advance-schedule-of-West-End-shows kind of radar, but thank god I learned about it before it was too late because it is one of the most compelling, important shows currently playing in London. That’s a huge accomplishment for a small 80-minute play in the tiny black-box-like attic of the Soho Theatre, where it feels like you’re in for a night of experimental dramatic work from your overeager drama major college friends. But there’s nothing amateur about Bomb or about its sensational writer, and I think Levy will remain an essential voice in theatre in the years to come.
Taking on double duty in her tour de force, Levy stars as 15-year-old Yasmin Sheikh, a girl living in Mitcham (South London), navigating high school bitches, and trying to get a hold of the life she knew as her world falls apart. I don’t know how old Levy is, but I fully believe her as a teenager, easily passing for the Muslim version of Lea Michele in the first season of Glee. After her home life shatters, Yasmin finds herself untethered, and the only thing offering her a hint of security is the stranger who found her online after Yasmin watched ISIS beheading videos a few too many times, but really only as a lark, she says. The stranger, a British woman who moved to Syria because the west is trash and ‘here we’re family’, thinks Yasmin should join her. The way these recruiters can so easily locate potential targets, and how well they tailor their enlistment practices to the targets, felt accurate and terrifying with its superficial breeziness. Since 15-year-olds are children and children make really stupid decisions, Yasmin spontaneously decides to follow the advice of the recruiter and flee to Syria, to become an ISIS bride, leaving the people who love her in a confused, wounded panic and leaving the country more susceptible to reactionary Islamaphobia.
Her best friend, Aisha (a bubbly Halema Hussain), tells us Yasmin’s story, from the beginning of this terrible time until the tragic, heartbreaking ending. A third actor, Eleanor Williams, is the only white one and plays the aforementioned high school bitches, the ISIS recruiter, and others. In one of the funniest parts, Eleanor breaks the fourth wall and asks if they can pause, because she feels like her mean girl character is too much of a one-dimensional stereotype. What about her problems, her insecurities and dreams? Sure, it’s an obvious joke to play on the irony of the white actor feeling typecast when it’s always the other way around, but the genuinely funny moment helps to break up some tension. And Levy’s script allows the story move in this sort of elastic frame that really works for it.
The flexible format of the play feels appropriate, with a youthful, fun vibe despite the subject matter. Comedy is rampant too, with Levy nailing both the current slang and street-speak of South London yoots (I mean I’m guessing) and teaching me a whole lot of new words. (Although I started getting annoyed at how many times they said ‘oh my days.”) The interplay between the three actresses as they shift in and out of various roles quickly, easily, and often humorously feels buoyant and fun, until it doesn’t: Levy’s final turn as Yasmin’s father is heartbreaking and feels like a vital message to the country. These kids, making life- and world-altering decisions when they are in no position to make such decisions, are being stupid, yes, but treating them without compassion or understanding achieves nothing.
Most people think this show is a direct response to the tragedy of Shamima Begum, the British girl who left the UK to join the Islamic State at 15 years old, and who tried unsuccessfully to return home this year in order to give birth. But, just as “Why We Build a Wall” in Hadestown was written years before Trumpism, Levy wrote this play years ago, not as a response to Begum’s tale but as a response to her own experience in the theatre world where she was only offered stereotypical roles for Muslims. Yet in both cases, the timeliness of the art being shown in this climate considerably enhances its meaning and import and helps it resonate in even more significant ways. I honestly did not expect this little show in this little attic to be so incredible, riveting, and painful (in a good way), but it is.
INFORMATION
Tickets are like £20 and considering how strong the play is, it’s probably one of the best values for money possible. It’s closing at the Soho Saturday, and while I am sure it will have a deservedly long life after this run, if you are able to go to the next 3 performances, you really truly must; “it’s bare important” (am I using that right?).
