Freud's Last Session

Based on a play, which poses a hypothetical conversation between Sigmund Freud and CS Lewis, this is kind of a dud. The acting is top notch, but it’s just a philosophical conversation. There’s no plot. No stakes. “My Dinner with Sigmund.” Cronenberg’s fact-based take on Freud, A Dangerous Method, is superior.

Albert Brooks: Defending My Life

I’m biased because I worked on this, but it’s a poignant conversation between two old friends reviewing Albert Einstein’s body of work – deconstructing the old comedy methods and becoming the comedian’s comedian. Expertly edited by Bob Joyce, and my contribution was, of course, amazing.

Going Varsity In Mariachi

Achieving what most documentaries should: introducing me to a subject that I knew NOTHING about, this is the Hoop Dreams of the South Texas high school mariachi world. Functioning like a sports movie we follow one high school “team” as they travel, struggle, and compete in regional tournaments. It’s inspiring and warm-hearted. Everyone in this tiny subculture seems extremely nice. The filmmaking is polished and the pace is enérgica. Well-done.

Leave the World Behind

What if M. Night Shyamalan made a good movie?? Sam Esmail (and the Obamas!?) does an excellent job of establishing his archetypes and stereotypes here, and then skillfully upturns expectations. Solid casting is an important piece of the puzzle, as the movie stars feed the stereotypes then peel them back to reveal more interesting complicated people. The story and plot also does this well. It begins with some thriller beats, and then gradually expands into a more global crisis with much stronger themes. So sorry to knock around “Night”, but this succeeds with the twists where others (ibid) have failed. Although I could see the ending coming, it’s a hum-dinger and thoroughly satisfies. Kudos.

Killers of the Flower Moon

Leonardo DiCaprio decided that the best way to NOT look like Jay Gatsby in this movie was to wear this big awkward mouth/teeth prosthetic, and man it looks weird. It’s like he thought “I only want to look a little weird, but not REALLY weird.” He should have gone full H.A.M. weird, but this just looks affected and awkward. So much of the technique of this movie is great. Every second, every frame is beautifully captured. But the story is gross. There’s no hero to speak of. While Mollie the wife (Lily Gladstone) is the only non-scumbag in the entire movie, she’s not really the hero or protagonist. She doesn’t really drive the plot and she’s down with sickness for about a third of this 3-hour saga. It’s not until Jesse Plemons’ FBI character enters the scene that I ever felt like justice and resolution might occur. Yes, it’s an “important” movie about a grim historical event. But it’s a “medicine” movie and lacks narrative suspense and intrigue. It doesn’t matter how many well-costumed extras you have on set if you don’t have a hero and a journey. It’s beautiful to behold, though.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show

Held in a big concert venue, this “event” was projected on a comedically small screen, so as not to draw attention away from all the mid-movie shenanigans typical of this cult spectacle. Sound was sub-par and the bar closed early. A big issue with this modern screening is that the paid wise-crackers have had 50 years to curate all the one-liners yelled at the screen throughout history, and they yell them ALL. It’s an endless barrage of “ya-had-ta-be-there” quips but delivered by non-actors and non-comedians in a deadpan delivery more akin to having your number called at the DMV. Nevertheless, this above all other cult movies, is a unique kind of miracle. It lives on in its badness like no other movie, and must be appreciated for that weirdness.