Review: Borat Subsequent Moviefilm

Image courtesy of Amazon Studios.

If there were ever a time for a "Borat" sequel, now is it. Sure enough, comedic daredevil madman Sacha Baron Cohen made a sequel to his uproarious 2006 hit on the sly during the coronavirus, and it couldn't have come at a better time.

At the film's beginning, we learn that Borat has been a prisoner in a work camp during the years since the previous film, with which he embarrassed his home nation of Kazakhstan. But he is let out by the nation's president for the purpose of taking another trip to the United States, where he is to ingratiate himself to Donald Trump's inner circle because Kazakhstan's president is envious that other dictators around the world are getting love from the U.S. president - and he isn't.

Borat is to take a prize monkey - known as the nation's top entertainer - and present it as a gift to Mike Pence, but upon arriving in the United States, Borat realizes that his estranged teenage daughter, Tutar (Irina Nowak), has snuck into the crate and the monkey is now dead. Borat then devises a plan to offer up his daughter as a gift to Pence, whom he describes as the United States' "number-one ladies man" since it is well known that Pence cannot be left alone with another woman without his wife present.

"Borat Subsequent Moviefilm" has its share of funny - and outrageous - moments. It's not quite as funny or original as the 2006 film, which was a shockingly hilarious sleeper. The first half of the sequel focuses more on shock value gags - a fertility dance at a southern cotillion, for example - but once it sets its sights on U.S. politics and our current national culture, it hits many of its marks.

Similar to the sketch comedy character and the previous film, one of the most amazing things Cohen is able to do is to get so-called ordinary Americans to make stunningly horrific proclamations or treat awful behavior as normal. For example, he asks a woman at a southern clothing store what the best outfit is for a "racist family," and she calmly gives him some suggestions.

During another, he gets a breast implant doctor to hit on his supposedly underage daughter, and during a visit to a southern clinic, he leads the doctor there on to believe that his daughter has been impregnated by her father, to which the doctor tells him that he wouldn't consider aborting it because regardless of how the baby ended up in the girl's belly, it's "God's plan." During a visit to a bakery, he gets a woman to cheerfully agree to write "The Jews won't replace us" on a cake he's buying.

The two most outrageous and risky gags involve a trip to an anti-COVID-19-shutdown rally and a now legendary meet-up with former New York Mayor Rudy Giuliani. The former takes place after Borat has spent a few nights living with two QAnon members, who believe the Clintons drink the blood of newborns. He attends the rally, where gun toting, confederate flag waving racists cheer him on while he pretends to be a country singer on stage, belting out a song that includes horrific imagery of chopping up journalists "like the Saudis do," and convincing the crowd to sing along.

Although Borat sort of confronts Pence at a CPAC conference early in the film, it's the Giuliani meeting that is the most jaw dropping. Tutar, who has become a journalist by the end of the picture, interviews Giuliani in a hotel room and her ingratiating behavior prompts him to follow her into a bedroom, where he proceeds to stick his hand down his pants while reclined on a bed - tucking in his shirt, sure. 

The film's finale finds the most outright call to action I've seen in Cohen's work during an event he and his daughter are covering as journalists. It pokes fun at the United States' aversion to scientists and includes a surprising turn in the way Borat and his village view women.

"Borat Subsequent Moviefilm" is often fairly funny - especially during its second half - even if it doesn't quite live up to the first picture. Cohen deserves credit not only for the great lengths and great dangers he goes to to get a laugh, but also how he was able to make this film during the coronavirus and land heavy blows against something - the Trump administration - that has already been the butt of so many jokes, and make it feel fresh. It's often not for the feint of heart - but then, again neither is ordinary life these days.

Review: David Byrne's American Utopia

Image courtesy of Amazon.

Spike Lee's "David Byrne's American Utopia" starts off as an energetic concert film featuring the legendary Talking Heads frontman, and ends up as something else - a deeper, cathartic exploration of human connection at a time when it feels the divide in our country has grown wider. Byrne recognizes this, and tackles it head on throughout his show.

Byrne wrote the album "American Utopia" two years ago with Brian Eno, and it ended up becoming a Broadway show. Filmed at the Hudson Theater in New York City in late 2019, the intentionally minimalist stage show - and there's a reason for that relating to human connection - includes some songs from that album, but also includes Talking Heads classics such as "Once in a Lifetime," "Born Under Punches," "This Must Be the Place" and "Burning Down the House."

For about two-thirds of the film, we are treated to the typically energetic stage presence of Byrne, who was once involved in one of the greatest of all concert films - Jonathan Demme's "Stop Making Sense." He and his talented multi-ethnic, multi-national backup band perform their numbers with gusto, occasionally taking a break so that Byrne can chit chat with the audience - for example, whether they'd rather look at a stage full of humans, a beautiful sky or a bag of chips. Not surprisingly, his quirky persona peeks through in these monologues.

If for no other reason, "American Utopia" would be recommended for its intoxicating aura - impressive musicianship is coupled with choreography and stylistic visual techniques courtesy of Lee that make it very watchable, even for those unfamiliar with Byrne's music. There's a lot going on on for a concert that is fairly low on stage design and effects.

But then, toward the end of the show, Byrne brings back the theme of connectivity and adds a political component and social commentary that just seem to fit quite well. First, he talks about a voting initiative in which he has been engaged, and the film uses lighting effects to show how few people actually vote by singling out groups of people in the audience via stage lights.

Then, he launches into a powerful cover of Janelle Monae's protest song "Hell You Talmbout?," which she sang at the Women's March on Washington in 2017. Byrne said he was hesitant to include the song in the show as an aging white man - but Monae told him the song was for everyone. The song - which has a repetitive structure - shouts out the names of Black women and men who have been murdered - mostly by police. The names include Sean Bell, Eric Garner and Emmett Till, and the chorus repeats "say their name." Images of people holding up their pictures accompany the music, and it culminates with images of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor.

This number is immediately followed by the lovely a cappella a "One Fine Day," which tells us, "Then a peace of mind fell over me; in these troubled times, I still can see; we can use the stars to guide the way; it is not that far, one fine day." Then, almost as some sort of cosmic joke, this is followed by the closer, "Road to Nowhere," during which Byrne and his band march through the audience.

"American Utopia" combines the sensibilities of its two artists - Byrne, whose imagination and musical abilities have made him one of the most unique musical figures of the past 40-some years; and Lee, who's long been a great director, but has really been on fire as of late. The picture is a very good concert film, but it's also a hopeful performance that sees a brighter future arising out of the darkness.

Review: The Trial Of The Chicago 7

Image courtesy of Netflix.

Aaron Sorkin's Netflix-produced "The Trial of the Chicago 7" is, of course, based on the actual courtroom proceeding in which eight individuals - activists Abbie Hoffman, Tom Hayden, Jerry Rubin, Lee Weiner, John Froines, David Dellinger, Rennie Davis and Black Panther Party leader Bobby Seale - were charged with crossing state lines to incite a riot following their involvement in protests at the 1968 Democratic Convention in Chicago. The trial was marked by antics - Hoffman's outbursts - as well as a hostile and antagonistic judge, Julius Hoffman (Frank Langella), and the actual gagging of one of the defendants (Seale).

But while some of the courtroom proceedings here are interesting - and some other moments therein drag on a bit - the film's bright spots are its eerie comparisons of the struggles of yesteryear with those of today - for example, a scene in which riot police in Chicago remove the badges bearing their names, similar to scenes across the United States this past summer during Black Lives Matter protests; the concept of an out-of-control Department of Justice targeting political enemies; or the dangers presented by incompetent men (in this case, Langella's judge) in power.

But mostly, the film bounces the various personalities of its characters off one another - Seale (Yahya Abdul Mateen II) is righteously indignant, Hoffman (played by Sacha Baron Cohen) clownish but smarter than expected when given the chance and Hayden (Eddie Redmayne) is conflicted due to his wanting to stand up to the system, but understanding the optics of being disrespectful in a courtroom and challenging police officers. John Carroll Lynch portrays Dellinger, a pacifist who aims to keep his ideals intact at a volatile moment, and Mark Rylance is particularly good as William Kunstler, the group's lawyer.

While the scenes set in the immediate present (1969) - in which the group consults with Kunstler or argues over tactics - play fairly smoothly, some of the flashbacks are less successful and feel too meticulously staged. There's also an ongoing introduction of past moments - in the summer of 1968 - by Hoffman as he performs some sort of standup routine that becomes a not-so-effective storytelling device.

Regardless of its flaws, the cast and the inherent interest in this particular case and moment in American history keep the proceedings lively and compelling. As a writer, Sorkin is often among the best in his field - especially his terrific script for "The Social Network." As a director, this is his second attempt - the first was the solid "Molly's Game" - and it's a film that works more often than it doesn't. 

I appreciated the way the parallels to today are thoughtfully explored in the film - the often repeated phrase "the whole world is watching" has never felt more relevant - and found some moments to be rousing even when the movie occasionally feels overlong and a little indulgent. All in all, it's pretty decent.

Review: On The Rocks

Image courtesy of A24.

Sofia Coppola's latest film, "On the Rocks," is a breezy comedy with a melancholic air to it, somewhat similar to her great "Lost in Translation," although not as profound as that picture. It's also her best movie in about 10 years.

The film follows the story of a thirty-something New York City-based mother named Laura (Rashida Jones) who comes to question whether her husband, Dean (Marlon Wayans), is cheating or just really busy with work. He's rarely around due to work, and Laura gets the indication that he's pretty chummy with an attractive woman who is working with him on the project that calls for him to sprint off to Los Angeles, Mexico and other places constantly. Her closest friend (played by Jenny Slate) spends much of their time together going on and on about her own relationship woes.

Laura makes the mistake of bringing up her quandary with her aging lothario father Felix (Bill Murray), who instantly sees an adventure in involving himself in his daughter's affairs. While you can't exactly describe the relationship between Laura and Felix as estranged, it's clear she didn't approve of the extramarital affairs in which he engaged when he was married to her mother, and Laura wonders why Felix - the man out to charm everyone in the room - can't speak to women without flirting.

This is the type of performance in which Murray excels - he's funny, snarky and a bit of a cad, but good natured to the extent that he finds himself singing duets with musicians as resorts and cheerfully talking cops out of giving him tickets for driving recklessly. Jones, in some ways, has the tougher performance and nails the more somber elements of it.

Possible clues pile up regarding Dean's fidelity, leading Felix to suggest that he and Laura spy on Dean, trailing him around the city and checking his text messages. These are funny scenes - and there are a lot of other good chuckles in the picture thanks to Murray - but they also provide some nice moments involving parents and their children bonding in older age. Laura at one point even calls out Felix's scheme to track Dean as a means of having an excuse to hang out with her.

As I'd mentioned, "On the Rocks," while often very good, isn't on par with "Lost in Translation" or Coppola's other early films, such as "The Virgin Suicides" or "Marie Antoinette." It's light and breezy and runs a brief 97 minutes, but it packs a punch because beneath the laughs there's a fair amount of emotional heft. "On the Rocks" is an engaging hang-out movie with two likable leads. Although its end is, perhaps, a little too tidy, the picture mostly works like a charm.

Review: The Glorias

Image courtesy of Amazon.

 Much like Todd Hayne's approach in his brilliant Bob Dylan biopic phantasmagoria "I'm Not There," Julie Taymor's "The Glorias" uses four actresses to portray the iconic writer and activist Gloria Steinem, often including several of the actresses in one scene riding along in a bus discussing different stages of her life. Taymor's picture is ambitious, displays visual flair and always remains interesting, even if it occasionally feels a little overlong and overstuffed - an animation sequence, for example, probably wasn't necessary.

Regardless, the four actresses portraying Steinem - Julianne Moore, Alicia Vikander, Ryan Kiera Armstrong and Lulu Wilson as well as Steinem herself, who pops up in documentary footage from the Women's March in 2017 - give strong performances as they portray the Toledo, Ohio-born activist at various stages of her life.

Steinem's travels on the road with her father, Leo (Timothy Hutton), the type of guy always looking to make a dime from legit and not-so-legit means, obviously made an impact on the young woman, so as the past and present mingle throughout the film, we see Gloria as a young girl with her family - which also includes a sister and a mentally unwell mother, who was also a journalist when she was younger - often on the move, but also traveling by herself through India to meet with women from the lower caste to hear their stories.

As Gloria (at this point portrayed by Vikander) tries to make it into the world of journalism, she is disgusted by the chauvinistic attitudes she experiences - she is only allowed to do fashion-related articles; following a break-through article in which she goes undercover as a Playboy bunny, her male coworkers want more of the same; an editor nonchalantly tells her to meet him at a motel; and her suggestions to cover stories of value - the March on Washington, for example - are met with skepticism as to whether she's up for the job.

Steinem's journalistic work soon takes a back seat to her activism, and she reluctantly takes on speaking engagements, despite her fear of public speaking. She tackles such issues as farm workers' rights, abortion, equal pay, race and others, and begins to come into her own voice as an activist. Eventually, she'll go on to found Ms. magazine along with a group of other women, including the feisty Flo Kennedy (Lorraine Toussaint) and Dorothy Pitman Hughes (Janelle Monae). Bette Midler pops up as former Congresswoman Bella Abzug, while Monica Sanchez portrays Dolores Huerta.

The movie remains compelling throughout, even if it feels as if a whole lot of material was squeezed into its nearly two-and-a-half hour running time. Steinem often felt compelled to rebuff sexist questions during interviews about her love life or her reasons for not having married - so, when the film finally involves her brief marriage at a late age, it comes out of nowhere with little introduction and feels tacked on without much purpose.

Regardless, "The Glorias" has much to recommend - it tells a significant story about one of the pivotal figures of the Women's Rights Movement, and with panache. All four actresses are very good in their roles, with Vikander doing a great job of portraying Steinem's no-nonsense approach to male chauvinism, but also the wonder she experienced traveling around the country and the world. Moore is solid as Steinem in her later years, and there's a great moment at the beginning of the film in which she stops at a biker bar and is recognized by some other patrons.

Similar to Taymor's other films - "Frida" and "Titus," for example - the film experiments with various film stocks and visual tricks, some of which are more effective than others. But overall, "The Glorias" is an engaging movie about a fascinating person.