ScreenFish

where faith and film are intertwined

Netflix

White Noise – O Death?

by Leave a Comment

From the left Sam Nivola, Adam Driver, May Nivola, Greta Gerwig and Raffey Cassidy

Noah Baumbach’s latest is the first time he’s leaned into a text full of metaphor and symbolic imagery, but it may prove that I prefer when he dabbles in human drama. That’s not to say that White Noise doesn’t demonstrate that there’s a well-intended technical wizard behind it. Far from it, Baumbach is no amateur, but it becomes apparent throughout the film that he may have bit more than he can chew. He takes a 326-page book and stuffs it into his two-hour adaptation of Don DeLillo’s post-modern opus which was long considered unfit for the silver screen. The story takes the viewer into a bizarre world that gets some getting used to. Once you get used to it though it starts to show where its ideas and heart lie, but it takes a lot to get there and its messy build up leads to mixed pay off.

The story of White Noise starts with the Gladney clan, a seemingly average nuclear family living in a peaceful college town. The lead of the film is the father Jack Gladney (Adam Driver) a professor of Hitler studies at College-on-the-hill, a program he pioneered to study how a man makes himself into a centrifuge of power. (Hitler is clearly an example of this as he became the central figure of a gathering where the idea of death was prominent, it separates him from the leaders who pronounced life like musicians, politicians, and civil rights leaders.) The weird thing about this character is that death is on their mind more than life. This is even more pronounced after a cloud of toxic chemicals starts to come towards the town where Jack and his family reside. For Jack the threat of death is even more apparent after he’s exposed to the toxic rain, yet he never feels sick nor is there any medical concerns when he comes to see his doctor. Making us think that this threat of death is a lot more extensities then first meets the eye. Jack’s wife Babette faces a similar predicament as she starts taking a new drug to deal with an impending ailment that no one else in the family knows. A mystery that runs throughout most of the story and the truth behind it reveals what the movie is about.

There’s a lot to appreciate regardless of my critiques of the film. Baumbach’s attempt to make an interpretation of DeLillo’s absurdist and metaphorical world is certainly interesting. The movie guided me from thinking it was about facing your own mortality, to the importance of family to the engrossment we experience in consumerism all in one act. What allows the viewer to engage with the film regardless of content is the excellent production. Lol Crawley has been showing himself to be one of the best cinematographers working today and is severely underrated in his ability to execute a director’s vision as he has with all his notable films. He’s a humble visionary who lets his personal style remain subtle. His work on this film, The Humans, The Devil All the Time and Vox Lux are all beautiful but have lacked the critical and commercial acclaim that launches a DP into the stratosphere. I don’t think this film will be that breakthrough, but I continue to be interested in what he’s working on. I hope one of those films will make him a household name, he deserves it.

Someone who probably won’t get the awards recognition he deserves but doesn’t need the profile boost is Danny Elfman who composes what might be my favourite score of his. His work here blends his own signature use of strings into a synth melody that have heavy use of bass. The result is a score that separates itself by combining the two in a way that reminds me of the work of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross but clearly fits with Danny’s style and the tone of the film. That’s to say it’s a lot more fun and lighthearted than Reznor and Ross’s collaborations with Fincher on Gone Girl and The Social Network

The adaptation work here on point. The way this film moves makes me think its very faithful to the text, for better or worse. This faithfulness to the text comes out in the excellent lead performances from Adam Driver and Greta Gerwig with Driver proving his comedic chops might be wasted in his more serious characters even with how much acclaim and financial success he’s helped those films garner. Driver’s performance is consistent even as the genre seems to change before our eyes and his intonation keeps us grounded in the story and the character. Gerwig almost accomplishes the opposite by keeping the same tone as Driver but in a much more empathetic and melancholic manner. Her emotions help us grasp some of the empathy Baumbach goes for even in a world that’s leans into the absurd. The rest of the cast are also stellar with the family of the Gladney’s all handling the academic parley very well. The oldest son Heinrich does a very good job as first-time feature actor Sam Nivola commands the screen in a few demanding speeches. Raffey Cassidy as the oldest daughter Denise also works very well with Driver in some of the most dramatic scenes bringing a sense of awkwardness and weight to their father-step daughter relationship.

Much of the movie is built on the world Baumbach creates. It’s a world not too different than our own. Its set in the 80s so some of those nostalgic staples remain. Retro Pepsi, period cars, apple jacks’ cereal and boxed kraft dinner all give us a sense of normalcy. But what really makes this world unique is these characters. Their mind always seems to be on grander and greater things then what is in front of them. It’s like they’re all in college seminar discussing philosophical and worldly ideas no matter how young they might be. The opening scenes see the Gladney family constantly talk over one another as they prepare for the morning. Its moments like these where you get the sense of an artist making purposeful filmmaking choices like Baumbach is, but the meaning isn’t aptly available to the viewer. Stories like these are often told this way so the director guides us into a dialogue in our own head with the film’s ideas. It’s opposite of Christopher Nolan’s Tenet in that you are supposed to think about it instead feeling it. This approach works for more abstract philosophical work from the likes of Malick, Kaufman and Kubrick who show imagery, sound, and bits of story more as a vehicle to delve into the artistic ideas they present. Baumbach’s aim seems to be in that direction but the nature of the novel being adapted demands these ideas are veiled in a complex world and story. A story which feels too perplexing in its characters personalities and quirks to truly feel and experience what these go through. The story seems to demand an understanding of the setting the film presents but that takes many scenes and some revealing dialogue to catch up on and by that time too much of the movie is already gone. The film and the novel don’t seem interested in any form of exposition but also cannot go into the realm of poetic filmmaking without becoming an entirely different product. As a result, the story seems to meddle in melodrama for parts of its runtime. A melodrama which opens the chance to present thought provoking imagery and character actions even if they don’t make the most sense at face value.

On one level it seems to be a study of the nuclear family or how that’s not possible. Jack and Babette’s oldest daughter Denise (Raffey Cassidy) comes from Babette’s second marriage and becomes the center of the conflict between Jack and Babette when she reveals to Jack that Babette has been taking these mysterious pills. The answer leads them down a spiraling journey towards the third act, but the film is mostly concerned primarily with how this family reacts to the toxic cloud event during the first and second act. The entire town evacuates despite the lack of evidence of the harm it causes but people believe its threatening considering its beautifully frightening appearance. This causes the evacuated townspeople to question if they’re being evacuated for a legitimate reason and they try to puzzle out the real nature of this toxic cloud.

The film has a lot of different themes and ideas which aren’t explicit to the viewer and while it may require deeper analysis there seem to be some apparent ones. One of the themes is a fear of incompletion which we explore through Jack. During his time studying the vilest and arguably accomplished man to ever live Jack wonders if what he’s doing with his life make him worthy to live in the face of impending death. He’s forced to consider what choices really matter and how to best handle his life with his wife and 4 children/stepchildren. The film also seems to take minor jabs at capitalism and the state of consumerism fueled by its insertion of debate over what medicines to use, what food is the best and judging people’s intellect or rationality through the type of car they drive. Other parts of the film look at relationships. The central couple Jack and Babette have an intimate discussion about how Jack couldn’t live without her and looks at the excitement that’s possible between a devoted couple. Despite moments where it embraces the idea of connection and love its overshadowed by the idea of déjà vu, that life might be just doing the same things over and over just like how Jack and Babette seem to have fallen in love and gotten married had a kid several times each. The toxic cloud is said to cause déjà vu and after its appearance this idea is incorporated multiple times with systematic use of Chekov’s gun. Baumbach drops a lot of unimportant facts about the story for seemingly no reason only to bring them up again later. But still, they don’t seem to have an apparent reason. It’s a film, like a novel in English class that probably requires a lot of reading and analysis to really try to appreciate. I cannot imagine Baumbach claimed to understand the novel on a first read but it intrigued him and after studying it he found its personal meaning for him and figured he could make a cinematic piece out of it for those who would rather study images. The problem being that allowing for interpretation in film to take place often requires precise visual storytelling one that the novel simply doesn’t provide ample opportunity for. So Baumbach as much as he might aspire to achieve a similar visually poetic creation akin to the work of Kubrick and Tarkovsky, there really seems to be too much noise in the story and the visuals used to tell it.

White Noise deserved to be made. It’s easy to recognize this as a film that will be special, Netflix likely may stop giving generous budgets to these acclaimed auteurs. Passion projects like White Noise may continue to disappear which is a sad thing. Despite its lack of unanimous critical praise, personal blockbuster endeavours like White Noise and AGI’s Bardo are a good thing for cinema. This past year more of them have come out with mixed results. They prove to be hard films to enjoy even if there is technical mastery on display and White Noise is not an exception. There’s certainly a lot to admire in the direction but the way the film’s delivered does beg for more time to be taken to try and understand the world of the story before understanding what it trying to tell us. As it is the story doesn’t feel like one that can pull us towards where Baumbach wants us emotionally or intellectually.  The ideas feel swallowed up by the meandering plot. This is certainly in part because of the film’s source material but perhaps there is some truth to the idea of unadaptable books. Baumbach is a director who deserves to take a chance on a film he thinks will really make people think but something about it really makes that hard. A second watch might certainly clear some things up but the emotional and intellectual effort needed to connect to this film seem too much when there are so many other films begging to have their stories move you emotionally and intellectually, White Noise struggles to achieve either.

White Noise is now available in theatres and will stream on Netflix on December 30th, 2022.

Bardo, False Chronicle of a Handful of Truths: A Mouthful

by Leave a Comment

Silvio (Daniel Gomez Cacho) drunkenly dances in a party celebrating his acclaimed return to Mexico.

Bardo, or “I’m going to make it clear to the world I’m an artist,” is the first film from Alejandro Gonzalez Iñárritu since 2015’s The Revenant and certainly his most bombastic work to date.  Here Iñárritu leaves it all on the table in this contemporary autobiographical, nostalgia trip where Silvio a renowned documentary filmmaker returns to his motherland of Mexico. The character is almost indistinguishable from Iñárritu himself as the thoughts and feelings of these character mimic his personal ventures in an art imitating life way. The film takes us through Silvio’s dreams and the scenes his imagination creates as he takes his family back to Mexico before he is to receive a prestigious American journalism award. The film takes aim to break down so many parts of Iñárritu’s mind from his own work as a filmmaker, the condition of the United States, the condition of Mexico and how those two are linked both politically and personally for him.

Director Alejandro González Iñárritu on set of one of Bardo’s many surreal scenes with Actor Daniel Giménez Cacho

One our first introduction to this idea of mixing the imagination with the political is we witness a discussion between Silvio and an American ambassador about the American Mexican war. As we step outside the luxurious castle, they turn to face a staged arrangement of soldiers running around the war they were discussing as Iñárritu recreates it in a surreal imaginative perspective.

In Bardo Iñárritu aims to tie the personal to tableaus of grand spectacle. Early in the film we see a slew of self-deprecating question asked to Silvio of a Mexican talk show. This parodies the idea of those celebrity TV interviews as the deeply personal nature of the host’s questions would never be asked on TV. Yet Iñárritu as a filmmaker clearly thinks his thoughts and problems often get put into the national spotlight through interviews and how he expresses himself in film. So, he takes the step to make his character go through even uglier queries about his private life. Another sequence sees Silvio wander around a city where he ends up in a debate with the leader of the Spanish Colonists who came to Mexico all those years ago. The scene is set on a mountain of CGI bodies only to be revealed as hundreds of extras for a scene in the film Silvio was making. Iñárritu never actually puts his physical body n the film but his casting of Daniel Gomez Cacho as Silvio makes it seem like he was looking for a skilled look-alike. An actor who could be mistaken for the director when Daniel is wearing sunglasses on. Leaving Daniel to present the artistic portrait of Iñárritu in all its shame and glory.

A lot of the film’s more intimate elements deal with Sivio’s existential and personal worries about life including his relationship with his children, his wife, and their shared grief of their unborn child Mateo. Iñárritu tries to frame Silvio’s process to cope with grief using bizarre comedic choices which see his wife Lucia (Griselda Siciliana) have the child put back into her, despite it becoming clear the child is dead. There are multiple bizarre scenes that continue to visualize his own personal debate about his personal attachment to Mexico and the United States as their value politically. Iñárritu has never seemed to be a filmmaker who wanted to communicate his more profound and political thoughts to an American audience considering the content of his Oscar winning films. But in leu of his two best director wins perhaps, he thought it time to use his platform to express his thoughts on the more significant North American issues without abandoning their personal reckoning on his life. It makes sense then that he turns to primarily Spanish language film while still letting his American influence shine through.

This war in his mind between American and Mexican values plays out on all sides. He has debates with family and old friends in Mexico about how he’s become a pretentious snob who aims to impress his gringo neighbors in Los Angeles. But even as a long-term resident Silvio is still not accepted by the United States as stated as much by a custom officer who himself is of a different ethnicity. He finds himself as a unique immigrant almost permanently stuck between borders.

In this scene Iñárritu expresses his lack of understanding in the immense pride and value Americans have in being born on American soil to be a true American. The customs officer consistently asks him to speak an English a satirical take on the immense hypocrisy and love America has with the English language despite their many citizens who speak in many international tongues. After all, America became what it is because of its separation from the colonial nation English comes from. It is a nation of immigrants and Iñárritu asks why its citizens view it any differently.

To review the plot of this film and its storytelling techniques is almost nonsensical as Iñárritu presents his ideas using poetic filmmaking in his own grand industrial form. It primarily deals with a modern picture of a man struggling with what the state of his world is. These surreal visuals which play out his life’s internal and external struggles through the eyes of his imagination where he can twist the look of anything. The film is clearly a deliberately crafted piece of filmmaking. Iñárritu himself has proved before that no one should ever accuse a filmmaker of being lazy and it certainly can’t be said of the man himself. The acting is all wonderful with the younger performers playing Silvio’s kids (Ximena Lamadrid & Iler Sanchez Solano) being especially impressive. The film while supplying a lot of its own visual goods in its absurd set pieces is wonderfully captured by Darius Khondji. A cinematographer who continually proves he can adapt his photography into the style of any modern auteur. The film’s visual effects are also wonderfully made as it blends the practical sets with its CGI to the point where its very hard to tell the difference. A feat that seems rarer and rarer with the increase of blue screens and LED VR landscapes.  

Iñárritu attempts to put his soul and its struggles into cinematic form with great effort and thought. His scenes are deliberately crafted and built around precise conversation. Many long takes bring us into the realm of his dreams, imagination, thoughts, and art. Ideas he blurs together in its many fantastical sequences. He plays with narrative form in a way invocative of Fellini, Malick and Kaufman while meshing his own visual style into the settings and events we come to expect from Lynch, Von Trier and again Malick. But only if Malick was given a consistent sixty or so million-dollar budget.

The film’s story structure acts as a loop as minor characters and events overlap with the seemingly chronological plot that consistently jumps back and forth in time without cuts, the result makes it hard to tell when we’ve jumped through time. All these surreal images and the manipulation of time eventually just reveal a man reflecting on the whole of his life. What do we make of his life and his imagination? Most would say it’s a bit long for the narrative cinema and I would agree. However, this film is certainly worth checking out if you want to see what a filmmaker will do with almost complete control of his craft and the freedom to explore experimental narrative to an almost torturous degree. If personal experimental filmmaking is your niche, I’m sure you will have a lot of scenes you consider worth dissecting for a couple hours and a film you probably won’t soon forget.

Stutz – Pulling back the Curtain

by Leave a Comment

Jonah Hill and Philip Stutz talk through their stories and the tools Stutz gives to deal with the parts we’d rather forget.

Actor-turned-director Jonah Hill has been through a lot; we all have. Knowing this, Hill set out to make a film about his therapist Philip Stutz after seeing how much he benefitted from his sessions with him. Hill states that he hopes that people could benefit from hearing how he and Stutz do a therapy session together and learn the tools that Stutz gives to his patients to help deal with their various therapeutic challenges. At the beginning of the film Hill says he wanted to make film of one sitting with Stutz or at least make it seem like that too us all. It is in those first thirty minutes of creating this faux therapy session in which Hill discovers this movie will require more personal insight to carry it along. So, he pulls back the curtain and joins Stutz in working through his various therapeutic tools together and reflect on how they’ve helped their lives.

Stutz stands as a unique piece of filmmaking in how much it invites its audience into the process of filmmaking, a great deviation from the typical movies we’re used to seeing from Netflix (Kissing Booth anyone). By the time Hill decides to sit side by side with Stutz around the 27-minute mark, he decides he’ll need to put more of his personal story into the movie. If Hill’s going to go in depth about how Stutz’ tools have helped him, he decides he needs to point out the events and times in his life where he’s applied those tools. This decision seemed inevitable with the nature of this documentary being a conversation, it takes two to tango. Hill also decides that to make an effective film about healing and being vulnerable that his filmmaking should be just as exposed. He stops the green screen effect; reveals they’ve been on a set for most of the movie for lighting control and takes off a wig that made us think the conversation we were watching was over an hour and not several months of shooting.

What Stutz and Hill share is special. It becomes clear in the first few minutes of them cracking jokes and throwing out profanities at each other that they have a bond. Hill acknowledges how much Stutz means to him because he’s been there in his toughest moments. It’s why he wanted to make a film about him. Then as the subject of the documentary Stutz goes through his various tools, he starts to reveal to us who he is. He is a man who believes it cutting through the weeds and going towards the heart of the problem. As a young therapist back in his thirties he saw his colleagues say, “let them have their own process, don’t get too involved”. To Stutz that seemed like BS, he never wanted a patient to leave without something. Hill himself acknowledges how the idea of therapy session can seem backwards, “your friends who are idiots give you advice, you want your friends to listen and your therapist to give advice”.

Stutz starts with the tool of Life Force, a pyramid which has the relationship with you body, other people and the highest is with yourself. Taking of your body alone Stutz personally attests to helping about 85% of his patients. Exercise is a basic physiological and psychological need, but its so basic people sometimes forget it. This is one example of how Stutz and Hill frame this documentary not only as an exploration of self but as one where you the viewer join in their journey.

It’s a piece of filmmaking where the message is explicitly delivered right to the audience instead of through story. Its certainly helpful to us to hear and participate in these exercises with Stutz but the film really asks how do these exercises help us reflect? Stutz will allow us to participate in the exercises the same one Hill does. The editing and music invite this idea of shared participation. Throughout the rest of the film Hill and Stutz use personal storytelling and processing to help us frame these ideas. Hill and Stutz do restrain how personal they get during this feature likely because some of the things they would talk about off camera too personal and affect their public image or involve mentioning someone who wouldn’t want to be in the film. We do miss the chance to see two men become empathetically vulnerable, but I think it would take away some of the purpose of what they were trying to create together. While it seemed necessary for them to get into personal anecdotes and struggles to bring us into this cinematic therapy session going too deep would take away from how these tools can inspire us. Hill and Stutz leave room for us to take those tools and to imagine how we might apply it to our own lives and to what we want to accomplish.

The film itself is very well made and Hill’s direction allows the film’s conversation to shine. There were some moments where it felt like they should have more footage to fit the topics of discussion but what they had, they used effectively. The film clearly uses a lot of editing to put together these conversations, a fact Hill reveals about a third of the way into the film. Editors Nick Houy and Nicholas Ramirez do a great job at pacing the film to ensure the message of both Stutz’s tools and his conversation with Hill are highlighted in entertaining segments. The black and white cinematography aids audience focus on the words being spoken. The photography is certainly professional but the real strength lies in the dialogue between Hill and Stuz so you could just listen to this documentary. Where the visuals are helpful are the drawings and diagrams Stutz would make to illustrate his tools. Hill has animators recreate Stutz’s scrawny handwriting as the titles and illustrated animations used throughout the film. The music also helps us to just focus on the words being spoken and in times where Stutz leads us through his tools the sounds to fall into a calm and serene mindset. The original music while minimal was done by Emile Mosseri who was Oscar nominated for Minari. His work here continues to impress me and Mosseri is a composer to keep your eye on.

This film will probably give you what you put into it. Without the recognizable story and face of Jonah Hill, this story would probably never be made. While Stutz himself is no doubt an interesting figure, the nature of his work means the power of his ideas rely solely on what is done by those who receive it. The film is faultless at doing what it wants by giving you space to relate to Hill and Stutz in an impersonal intimacy and really tries to allow you to reflect on your own mental well-being, as is the point of therapy.

Personally, how Hill’s process to make this film was what I connected to the most. I’m currently in the middle of trying to edit and record interviews with my classmates from a one-year bible college program called Kaleo. To describe it simply, I feel it will be the closest that I get to heaven on earth. Spending a year in a community of like-minded young adults who became my friends and shared my faith was truly special. There were a lot of personal stories shared and traumas that we exposed to each other because of the special nature of this year. A lot of the conversation we had became an unintentional form of therapy for us. So, I wanted to make this movie to talk with them about the year to try and retread these amazing revelations and moments of growth we experienced in these conversations. To do that I need them to be extremely vulnerable. They might only be comfortable doing that if I’m vulnerable with them and I think I can be, but the film isn’t supposed to be about me.

 In Stutz, Hill and Stutz don’t reveal everything about themselves because the nature of their film is that a lot of people would learn about the very personal parts of their lives, they don’t want people to get involved in. How much of ourselves are we willing to put into a movie? This is the question I felt the film primarily grappled with. Hill and Stutz find a health middle by aiming to provide these ideas to the audience instead of diving into the complexities of their personal stories, but I wonder what was left to lie under the surface. Could a film like this become personal enough to create an audience empathetic enough to feel all the emotions they would feel. To achieve this would be extremely powerful and I wonder if it can be done. Many storytellers become vulnerable by hiding their personal trauma into genre films or dramatic films set in worlds away from their own. For an actor-director like Hill, I imagine he’ll wait to put his story into a feature narrative where he can feel safe behind the camera.

TIFF ’22: The Good Nurse

by Leave a Comment

Netflix’s The Good Nurse is based on the popular book by Charles Graeber, which recalls the true events that happened to Amy Loughren (Jessica Chastain) and Charlie Cullen (Eddie Redmayne). Amy is a working, single mother of 2 in an absolutely horrible situation. In need of a heart transplant and working nights in the ICU to support her family, Amy is in a living hell. Everyday inching closer to death, she tries desperately to manage herself until her work gives her healthcare in 4 months. Despite her horrible circumstance, Amy still operates as a good nurse, one that goes above and beyond for her patients and does so regardless of what the hospital administration enforces. The story takes off when Charlie comes to work as a nurse, quickly becoming friends with Amy. However, at the same time, patients are mysteriously dying in similar and unexplained ways.

The Good Nurse follows Amy as she helps to put away a serial killer, one that was only possible due to flawed system of American Healthcare. The bureaucracy and corruption of profit-driven private hospitals are ever so present. Charlie is an individual who has gotten away with killing potentially over 400+ patients over the course of his career. Even though all the hospitals suspected it was him, they all decided to terminate him unrelated issues (such as “the dates on his application being incorrect”) in order to protect the hospital from liability. Had these hospitals not been so profit-driven and informed the police, Charlie would not have gotten away with his decade-long murder spree. For example, held back by bureaucracy, hospitals employee talking to the police without legal counsel would be terminated due to violation of contract. 

Another flawed aspect of the healthcare system that’s highlighted in Nurse was that frustrating way that hospitals treat their workers. Right now, we’re witnessing a massive number of resignations from healthcare workers, specifically nurses. Work is tough, hours are long, and dangerous situations (COVID for example) for little pay by comparison have helped drive this forward. Even so, the main issue is that, as a healthcare worker, you are not entitled to provide healthcare to yourself. For instance, in Amy’s case, she had to provide for her family although every shift literally drained the life out of her. By showing these moments, The Good Nurse highlights the flaws in what is truly a broken system.

The Good Nurse is currently playing at TIFF ’22. For screening information, click here.

The Adam Project: Finding Hope in Future’s Past

by Leave a Comment

Sometimes, Ryan Reynolds really gets it right. 

Although he’s one of the most bankable actors in Hollywood, Reynold’s films have been hit and miss. Best known as the wise-cracking Deadpool, his charming smirk may often bring his characters to life but the writing isn’t always there to justify his unique brand of pop culture quips. However, in Netflix’s The Adam Project  Reynolds channels the right energy to make it one of his more entertaining projects in recent years. 

Beginning in the year 2050, most of The Adam Project takes place in the present day where a 12-year-old Adam Reid (Walker Scobell) is still suffering from the loss of his father (Mark Ruffalo). Struggling to survive in school and taking his frustrations out on his mother (Jennifer Garner), Adam’s world is turned upside down when he comes home one day and stumbles across his future self (Ryan Reynolds). Bleeding from a bullet wound, the adult Adam claims to have returned to the past in an effort to save his future by stopping the process of time travel from ever being invented. 

While Reynolds may be the film’s biggest star, the most important ingredient to Project’s success may be director Shawn Levy. With films like the Night at the Museum trilogy, Real Steel and Reynold’s Free Guy on his resume, Levy has become an expert of finding the right balance of adventure, silliness and heart that is reminiscent of the classic 80’s family films of the Amblin era. With The Adam Project, Levy manages to walk that line once again with a fun and furious ride that feels like a creative mix of Flight of the Navigator and Back to the Future. (Though, it’s worth noting that, with some course language and mature themes, parents of younger children should take note that this film is PG-13 for a reason.)

Outside of Reynolds, the cast becomes particularly well rounded as well. Balancing out his trademark snark, Project makes good use of Garners’ warmth and Ruffalo‘s wit. (Side note: I can’t deny that it’s also fun to get a brief 13 Going on 30 reunion as well.) However, the absolute stand out of the cast is young Walker Scobell as Reynold’s younger self. Channeling Reynolds’ energy and sarcasm, Scobell’s ability to banter allows him to hold his own with the star onscreen, providing a unique take on the ‘buddy comedy’ that anchors the film. (Having said this, one does wish that more was given to the wonderful Catherine Keener and Zoe Saldana who are given little to do, despite the importance of their characters.)

While there are those that may argue that the time travel logistics of the film don’t always makes sense, The Adam Project cares little about such things. Like the best family adventures, what matters most are its characters and their emotional journeys. In this way, Project cares less about the sci-fi logistics and more about grappling with grief and healing. Fueled by a mixture of regret and anger surrounding the loss of their father, both versions of Adam are dealing with their own grief in different ways. Whereas adult Adam channels his pain into rage against his father, his younger self is taking it out on his mother. To them, the loss of their father is filled by complex feelings, ranging from inadequacy to blame. 

Because of his father’s own failings, adult Adam believes that he was unimportant to him. But is the world always the way that we remember it? As Reynolds revisits his own past, he begins to gain a new perspective on the way that things actually were. Even in his darkest moments, there is love in his home. As a child staring through his hurt, and be easy to forget that reality. 

There is hope when we realize that there is love.

With a spirit of adventure and fun, there is simply an energy and joy about this film that are undeniable. Once again, Levy has created a story that draws the viewer in with action but never loses its heart in the process. As a result, this is definitely one Project worth taking on.

The Adam Project streams on Netflix on Friday, March 11th, 2022.

Space Force: At What Cost?

by Leave a Comment

Space Force. (L to R) Steve Carell as General Mark Naird, John Malkovich as Dr. Adrian Mallory in episode 202 of Space Force. Cr. Diyah Pera/Netflix © 2021

Though one could argue that it had a difficult launch last year, Space Force feels like it’s on course.

With its release last May, Netflix’s Space Force began its first season with an Office problem. Known best for his work as Michael Scott, Carell and Greg Daniels did their very best to differentiate themselves from the affable boss. As a grumpy authoritarian figure, Carell’s General Naird seemed to be everything that Scott wasn’t… but that arguably also kept him from being likeable. 

While most people think that the success of The Office was due to Carell, it really lay in the relationships between co-workers. Jim and Pam. Dwight and Jim. Stanley and Phyllis. Whether it was romantic interest or the reality of simply being stuck together within the workplace, the connections between characters had a certain charm based on the care and respect between them. As a result, while the series had potential, it still felt as though it was still struggling to find its voice through much of its inaugural mission.

However, as the season unfolded, the icier aspects of Naird’s persona began to melt away and the connections between characters began to be established.

It’s also what makes Season 2 of Space Force so much better than its predecessor. 

Taking place several weeks after General Naird’s departing helicopter in the finale, Season 2 begins with the investigation into the events on the Moon. Left at the mercy of an over-bearing and penny-pinching Secretary of Defense (Tim Meadows), General Naird and his crew are given four months to prove the value of their branch of the military. Faced with financial cutbacks and potential government replacements, the Space Force must work together to keep their jobs and their sanity.

Space Force. Tawny Newsome as Angela Ali in episode 201 of Space Force. Cr. Diyah Pera/Netflix © 2021

With Season 2, Force has really begun to find its footing. United by a common antagonist in the Secretary of Defense, the team must work together in order to survive. As the fight for the program, the relationships between them solidify and the edges of their characters begin to soften. Carell’s Naird remains authoritative and intelligent yet also likeable and relatable. Malkovich’s idiosyncrasies began to balance out the members of his team. There’s even a potential ‘will they/won’t they’ dynamic between two unexpected characters that add a fun romantic element. Most importantly though, there seems to be a comradery developing between characters that makes them a joy to watch.

But are they actually committed to one another?

One of the key themes throughout its second outing asks the question of whether or not Space Force is worth the cost. As the Secretary of Defense weighs the government’s financial commitment to the Force, so too are the staff asking themselves whether or not their service is worth the effort. Struggling with PTSD, Captain Ali is having a hard time readjusting to life back on Earth. Mallory and Chan wonder if they should seek greener pastures. Even Tony begins to ask ‘what he has ever done for himself’. Constantly squeezed by the overbearing US Military, the team at Space Force are… well… forced to ask tough questions about where their future matters most. 

Space Force. (L to R) John Malkovich as Dr. Adrian Mallory, Steve Carell as General Mark Naird in episode 201 of Space Force. Cr. Diyah Pera/Netflix © 2021

Does their mission actually matter? Or are they merely the most useless branch of the military?

In this way, Space Force finally rockets towards being memorable. While the mission may be other-worldly, the sustainability of the series relies on its humanity and relatability. Through its characters and relationships, something is finally coming together in Force that makes it fun and unique. While the average person may not be familiar with the military world, we finally feel like we understand the people within it. As a result, though its setting may have its eyes on the stars, it feels like another day at the Office. 

And that’s a trip worth taking.

Space Force streams on Netflix on Friday, February 18th, 2022.

Disenchantment Part 4: Stirs and Echoes of the Past

by Leave a Comment

Matt Groening’s animated work sometimes takes time to find its legs.

Although they have continued to connect with audiences, both Futurama and The Simpsons took a couple of seasons to find their voice. The same is true with Netflix’s Disenchantment, the most recent addition to Groening’s growing legacy. Despite the fact that the series took a while to figure out what it was the release of Part 4 proves that Disenchantment has finally found its stride.

Picking up immediately after the events of Part 3, Disenchantment begins with Bean and her friends separated outside the walls of Dreamland. Whereas Bean remains trapped in Hell at the hands of her mother,Luci finds himself with the opposite problem as he lands in Heaven. At the same time, Zog continues to struggle to regain his sanity and Elfo is struggling to free himself from his ogre captors. As the four members of this unlikely family attempt to reunite, they discover multiple secrets that threaten the way that they have always understood their lives.

Although the show looks and feels like his other work, Disenchantment has managed to carve out its own place in the Matt Groening-verse. Whereas its animated cousins earn their laughs by satirizing everyday cultural issues, Disenchantment’s humour usually stems primarily from mocking its more magical elements. As such, the series has more often felt like a loving tribute to the fantasy genre than any particular social commentary. 

Most importantly though, Disenchantment has always set itself apart with an emphasis on longform storytelling over an episodic structure. As such, Disenchantment feels much more like a grand story unfurling before the viewer, giving it more epic sensibilities. (This also would explain why seasons are referred to as ‘parts’, allowing it to lean into the more literary sensibilities.) Of course, with this type of narrative structure, the great challenge is to maintain quality in the writing, especially if there’s no particular ‘end date’ in sight. As such, there are definitely moments this season where the series feels like its story is beginning to meander. Even so, by minimizing the pieces that felt like filler in Part 3, Part 4 feels much more focused and improves the drama as a result. (In fact, there are some surprises within Part 4 that even serve as pay-offs to the previous season’s side quests.) And it’s worth noting that, once again, Part 4 ends on a pretty solid cliff-hanger, reminding us that the story is far from over.

Disenchantment. Abbi Jacobson as Bean in Disenchantment. Cr. COURTESY OF NETFLIX © 2022

After several seasons, it’s also impressive that Disenchantment continues to expand its world with new areas and creatures, ranging from ogres and gnomes of the forest to the terrifying depths of the sea. (Seriously, has anyone mapped out this kingdom yet online?) What’s more, Part 4 even begins to mine the depths of its theology with explorations of heaven and hell. Interestingly, these sorts of conversations are nothing new for Groening’s work. Having delved into the paranormal in both Simpsons and Futurama multiple times, Groening has never shied away from the relationship between life and the afterlife. However, with Disenchantment‘s medieval setting, there seems to be something almost even more appropriate with its inclusion here.

Moving into Part 4, Disenchantment has become increasingly obsessed with the lies of the past. As secrets about Dreamland begin to be uncovered by Bean and her friends, it becomes increasingly clear that the history of the nation may not as noble as what they were led to believe. Without giving any spoilers, Part 4 recognizes that the stories of the past are frequently told by the ‘winners’ in an effort to keep their power. While the show usually steers away from social commentary, this particular theme resonates in a culture that continues to relearn our own history and dynamics of power. In this way, Disenchantment acknowledges the pain caused by those who have come before and the fact that this generation needs to step up in order to enact change.

However, while this theme may prevalent in Part 4, Disenchantment’s primary joy lies in the fact that it feels like venturing out on an epic quest with friends. Anchored by the ever-deepening relationship between Bean, Elfo, and Luci, Disenchantment continues to find its place in Groening’s animated legacy. 

So, bring on Part 5. Let’s see where this story wants to go.

Disenchantment is available on Netflix on Wednesday, February 9th, 2022.

Murderville: Whose Crime is it Anyways?

by Leave a Comment

Murderville. Will Arnett as Terry Seattle in episode 105 of Murderville. Cr. Darren Michaels/Netflix © 2021

Murder can be a funny thing.

Produced by Will Arnett, Murderville introduces the world to Terry Seattle (Arnett), a hard-nosed homicide detective who is struggling to get his personal life together. However, even though his marriage is crumbling, he’s still the man you want on the job but he can’t do it alone. In each episode of the series, Seattle finds himself working with a different celebrity as his rookie partner. From Annie Murphy to Kumail Nanjiani to Conan O’Brien and more, Seattle and his accompanying guest dig deep into the world of murder to solve the case and get justice for the victim.

A loose adaptation of the BAFTA award-winning series Murder in Successville, Murderville is an absolute treat for the cold nights of winter. Anchored by Arnett’s commitment to playing the broken detective, the film does its best to feel authentic to the crime genre. Gravelly voiceovers, filtered lighting and bland colour palettes all work together to create a light-hearted, noir-ish atmosphere. 

Murderville. Will Arnett as Terry Seattle in episode 103 of Murderville. Cr. Lara Solanki/Netflix © 2021

However, what makes the show so unique is how it manages to use all those same tropes as backdrops for improvisational comedy. Part Whose Line is it Anyways and part Punk’d, Murderville drops each guest star into the storyline completely unaware of what’s about to happen next. Although the series remains scripted for Arnett’s cast and crew, the special guest is left to react without the benefit of the script. Whether its interviewing suspects or examining evidence, these ‘rookie detectives’ are often thrown into situations and asked for immediate responses. Sometimes they handle themselves well. Other times… not so much. (For instance, watching Conan O’Brien attempt to explain to a young witness what happened at a bloody murder scene is both cringe-inducing but also absolutely hilarious at the same time.) 

It’s this sort of evolving reality that sets Murderville apart from other improv series. On the search for each clue, guests must determine the most determine details amidst the madness unfolding around them. They know they’re playing a game but watching them attempt to decipher clues in a chaotic atmosphere is just plain entertaining. In fact, watching these celebrities bumble their way through the activities set before them almost feels like watching friends endure an escape room. From the outside, it looks relatively easy… but we aren’t the ones faced with the unexpected.

Murderville. (L to R) Lilan Bowden as Amber Kang, Will Arnett as Terry Seattle, Marshawn Lynch as Guest 105 in episode 105 of Murderville. Cr. Darren Michaels/Netflix © 2021

What results is a bizarre experience for the celebrity guest and hilarious content for the viewer. Because the guest has no idea what they’re about to face, there’s a certain authenticity to their performance. When Marshawn Lynch reacts to the discovery of a bizarre murder weapon, we know that his confusion is genuine. When Annie Murphy gets increasingly flustered by Seattle’s bizarre demands in the kitchen, we understand her frustration. As a result, there’s an honesty and mischievousness to the series which simply makes it a joy to behold. 

At its heart, this is a series that’s simply about play. There’s no prize money at stake and no consequences for being wrong. All that’s up for grabs are the potential bragging rights of being able to say that they figured out whodunnit. As Arnett walks his friends through these strange murder scenes, one can see the sheer delight in their eyes. While guests with a background in improv comedy are clearly more prepared for what’s to come, each rookie partner manages to hold their own with Arnett’s antics. Whether its Conan O’Brien’s undercover storytelling or Lynch’s antics as a false mirror, every newcomer to the series is willing to commit to the silliness of the moment. They’re having fun, so we do as well. (In fact, there are multiple moments when both guests and cast members visibly break into laughter, especially Nanjiani and Jeong who constantly struggle to keep a straight face.)

Murderville. (L to R) Kumail Nanjiani, Haneefah Wood as Chief RJ-Seattle, Will Arnett as Terry Seattle in Murderville. Cr. Lara Solanki/Netflix © 2022

There’s little question that Murderville is one of the silliest surprises to drop in recent memory. Loose and light-hearted, Arnett’s hilarious little improv experiment simply has a feel-good vibe about it, making it an easy watch. Though Nanjaini and (shockingly) Sharon Stone may end up being the series’ MVPs, all the guest celebrities are up for the challenges which range from infiltrating a mob hideout to committing surgery.

So, after an intense investigation, the verdict on Murderville is that it absolutely kills it when it comes to comedy.

Murderville streams on Netflix on Wednesday, February 3rd, 2022.

SF Radio 8.13 Distracted from Devastation in DON’T LOOK UP

by Leave a Comment

It’s the end of the world as we know it… and we feel fine. After all, who needs to worry about global destruction when we’ve got celebrity culture, political division and other things to distract us. This is the premise of Adam McKay’s DON’T LOOK UP which introduces us to two scientists (Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lawrence) who discover that a massive comet is about to plummet towards the Earth… but no one seems to care. This week, the Dream Team of Jolie Featherstone (@TOFilmFiles) and ScreenFish’r Julie Levac reassembles to talk about the things that distract us, misunderstood evil and what we’d do on our last night on Earth.

You can watch the episode on YouTube and stream on podomatic, Alexa (via Stitcher), Spotify, iHeart Radio or Amazon Podcasts! Or, you can downoad the ep on Apple Podcasts!

Want to continue to conversation at home?  Click the link below to download ‘Fishing for More’ — some small group questions for you to bring to those in your area.

8.13-Dont-Look-Up

8.12 Behind the Image in THE POWER OF THE DOG

by Leave a Comment

In Jane Campion’s THE POWER OF THE DOG, Benedict Cumberbatch plays gruff cowboy, Phil Burbank. After his brother returns with a new wife and son, Phil does his best to put on a show of toxic masculinity and dominance, even as his conflicted soul suffers underneath. This week, Seeing & Believing‘s Kevin McLenithan and author Wade Bearden stop by to talk about hiding behind the image and showing our dark side.

(Note: This episode was recorded as part of our ‘Best Movie Moments of 2021’ and re-edited as a standalone. You can watch our Top Movie Moments episode here.)

You can watch the episode on YouTube and stream on podomatic, Alexa (via Stitcher), Spotify, iHeart Radio or Amazon Podcasts! Or, you can downoad the ep on Apple Podcasts!

Want to continue to conversation at home?  Click the link below to download ‘Fishing for More’ — some small group questions for you to bring to those in your area.

8.12-The-Power-of-the-DogDownload