Review: Hurry Up Tomorrow

Image courtesy of Lionsgate. 

It's somewhat of a rarity these days that I run across a movie that's a total misfire. Sure, I see and review plenty of movies that are mediocre, often technically competent movies that are corporatized art meant to sell new installments or bland films of various genres that are run-of-the-mill. But it's not often that I see something that completely misses the mark.

Mel Gibson's "Flight Risk," out earlier this year and not reviewed by me, is one of them. Trey Edward Shults' "Hurry Up Tomorrow" - you know, The Weeknd movie - is another. This is a movie that starts off with its titular character doing vocal warm ups through lip trills and only gets worse.

The film follows a pop star (Abel Tesfaye, AKA The Weeknd) as he seemingly teeters on the brink of self destruction, all while his manager (Barry Keoghan) offers plenty of bad temptations and while a stalkerish fan (Jenny Ortega) lurks in the background, waiting to pounce.

The Weeknd is known for his self-deprecating persona and songs that touch on angst, depression, hedonism, and a desire to escape celebrity status. While I'm not overly familiar with his entire catalogue, I like some of his most well-known songs - "Starboy" and "Blinding Lights," which is used in what must be the most awkward scene of any movie this year.

But there's self-deprecating and then there's... this. In the film, The Weeknd plays The Weeknd, who spends much of his time offstage crying over a relationship that seemingly fell apart, but also admitting that he treated the woman terribly. Then, we get to see him treat her terribly on the phone as he calls her a "bitch" and a "nothing," and the former insult is later hurled at another female character. He also does a fair amount of cocaine, often at the prompting of his manager.

It's hard to tell if "Hurry Up Tomorrow" is an extended, overly stylish therapy session or just an overwrought and self-absorbed project for its pop star lead. While I've admired some of Shults' work - such as "Krisha" or "Waves" - more than loved it, he really lays the style on thick here. It feels like every other shot is a 360-degrees swirl around his lead or a tight shot of his sweating face. 

Then, about halfway through the film, it becomes a variation on Stephen King's "Misery," sort of, leading to the aforementioned awkward scene. It involves Ortega awkwardly dancing and actually explaining to The Weekend how brilliant his music is and dissecting some of its themes. I think the last time I face palmed this hard is when M. Night Shyamalan wrote a bit part in one of his films for himself in which he played a genius author who wrote a book that would save mankind.

The Weeknd and Shults have both seen better days in the realms of music and film and I'd imagine that they will go on to do better things. In the meantime, this is a film in which its title might become a mantra for those sitting through it.

Review: Secret Mall Apartment

Image courtesy of Submarine Entertainment.

What is it exactly that qualifies something as art? Must it be an object or can it be an act? Is it required to be permanent or can it be fleeting? These are all questions that are posed - but not necessarily answered - in Jeremy Workman's documentary "Secret Mall Apartment," which is about a group of Providence, Rhode Island artists who found a vacant spot in a massive mall in the early 2000s and created an apartment, where they were able to spend time unnoticed by anyone for about four years.

The idea for the apartment was borne during a debate in Providence during the late 1990s over how spaced was used. The city, at that point, had seen better days and its administration thought the best way to revitalize it would be to create a massive luxury shopping center. Many of the communities who lived in proximity to it opposed the mall because, as they argued, they couldn't afford to shop there and would soon be squeezed out of the area when property taxes went up.

All of this turned out to be true, including the demolition of a beloved spot for artists and local musicians known as Fort Thunder, which hosted underground concerts and space for burgeoning local artists of varying kinds. One of the artists associated with the spot, Michael Townsend, noticed a place during the mall's construction that seemed to be empty and was far away from the stores and pretty much everything else. He correctly assumed that the room was intended for storage of some sort, but was later forgotten.

Michael and some friends broke into the room and decided to create an apartment for a select group of artists where they could hang out. A group of eight artists - including Michael's then-girlfriend Adriana Valdez Young - bought furniture in the mall and then lugged it up to the room. There's a harrowing sequence of them pushing a couch up a steep ladder in the upper regions of the mall.

"Secret Mall Apartment" is the story of how these eight artists spent time in the apartment - although none of them actually lived there - unobserved for about four years. As such, it's a well-made and interesting documentary feature. It should be noted that when law enforcement eventually cracked down, it was only Michael who faced any sort of repercussions (they were surprisingly minimal), so it's interesting that all other seven artists basically outed themselves by participating in the film.

But while the story of the apartment is interesting enough, if not quite mind blowing, it's the other endeavors of the artists that are most interesting in the picture - namely, a unique onsite sculpture involving mannequins that Michael put together under a bridge in Providence prior to the mall apartment and his group's "tape art" that they used to decorate a local hospital and then placed all over New York City in the months after the Sept. 11, 2001 terrorist attacks in an effort to honor the lives of every person who died at the World Trade Center site.

Of course, this art's format is tape, making it ephemeral, and there's some interesting discussion in the film about how Michael views art and how many of his own works are short-lived and only live on in photos. There's also an argument made in the film that the apartment itself was a work of art, and one of the less compelling elements of the documentary involves another artist trying to recreate it some years later. 

A film like "Man on Wire" is, perhaps, a more memorable documentary on what exactly can define art - in that case, a tightrope artist walking between the World Trade Center towers in the 1970s - than "Secret Mall Apartment." Perhaps, it's because the stakes are lower in this film. Regardless, it's a mostly interesting documentary about a region-specific art movement that you've probably never heard of, but will likely find compelling nevertheless.

Review: Another Simple Favor

Image courtesy of Amazon.

Paul Feig's "Another Simple Favor," a sequel to the quasi-popular 2018 film "A Simple Favor," is one of those sequels where it appeared that the entire cast wanted to vacation in a gorgeous spot, so they built an entire film around it, kind of like Adam Sandler has been doing in recent years.

Against all odds, the film brings the two lead characters from the original back together again and introduces a slew of new ones - there are Italian mobsters, FBI agents, book agents, twins, creepy aunties whom we didn't know existed, and various others - and plops them all down on the gorgeous Italian island of Capri.

As the film opens, the once-mousy Stephanie Smothers (Anna Kendrick), who is now an author, albeit not quite a best-selling one, and true crime online influencer (is this a thing?), is promoting the book about her experiences with murderess Emily (Blake Lively) when the latter pops up at a book signing and basically threatens to sue Stephanie if she doesn't attend her wedding in Capri. The explanation for why she's no longer in prison for murdering her father and sister is flimsy at best.

Suddenly, Stephanie is in Capri with a book agent (Alex Newell), a character who does not need to exist for the purposes of this movie, and Emily, but also Sean (Henry Golding), the sort-of ex of each of them, as well as Dante (Michele Morrone), the beefy scion of an Italian mob family that is at war with another family that, for whatever reason, will be attending the wedding.

Elizabeth Perkins pops up as Emily's mother, while Allison Janney is a mysterious aunt whose behavior gets stranger by the moment. There's also a bumbling FBI agent (Taylor Ortega) who is following Stephanie around and Portia (Elena Sofia Ricci), Dante's unfriendly and seemingly sociopathic mother. There's also another character who becomes integral late in the film whom I can't discuss without giving away spoilers.

Needless to say, Stephanie is skeptical as to why Emily wants her there, and isn't comforted much when Emily regales her with a tale of a god who brought people to the island to entertain him and, when they didn't, threw them off the cliff.

Shortly after everyone's arrival, a murder occurs - and then another. There's a lot going on in this film - some of it amusing, some of it not so much - and the picture often feels like it's juggling numerous plot lines, styles, and genres. Sometimes it's funny, while at other times it plays up the murder-mystery element Occasionally, a character might be charming or funny, only to be later revealed as a lunatic.

"Another Simple Favor" has its moments - the tete a tetes between Stephanie and Emily are occasionally amusing - and there are some scenes I could have done without, especially a sequence involving the usage of a truth serum. The original 2018 film was one that didn't really need a sequel, yet the finale of this one hints at more to come. 

This is a film that could be described as busy. Juggling multiple storylines can lead to success if each of the plot lines are intriguing. Some of the ones in "Another Simple Favor" are amusing enough, but others fizzle out, resulting in a sequel that's only intermittently successful and, more often than not, running on fumes.

Review: The Shrouds

Image courtesy of Janus Films.

Everyone has their own manner of processing grief, and occasionally some methods might veer toward the unusual. In David Cronenberg's latest film, "The Shrouds," which was conceived of in the wake of the loss of Cronenberg's wife to cancer, the central character, Karsh (Vincent Cassel), uses methods that are off-putting to women as he attempts to get back on the dating scene. 

In one of the film's opening scenes, his latest date is taken aback to learn that Karsh - who owns both a cemetery, restaurant located on the cemetery's property, and a company known as GraveTech that acts as an Internet-connected mausoleum - has created technology that allows grieving people to watch their loved ones decompose within their graves. 

Why would anyone want to do this? Karsh explains that he was with his wife every step of their lives since they met and feels horrible to think that her body is alone in its grave. Therefore, he and GraveTech's users can log onto a screen in which they see their loved one's body within the grave. In the casket, they are covered by "shrouds" with cameras in somewhat of a reference to the Shroud of Turin.

But something is afoot. One night, the mausoleum is vandalized, with several of the graves having been overturned, and Karsh is locked out of the technology that allows him to view his wife's body. Could it be the Russians or the Chinese, whom he is told might be trying to compete with his technology? Is it an act of protest from a group denouncing the moral implications of the technology? Could it have something to do with his wife's relationship with the doctor that treated her whom Karsh never met, but suspects something of a romantic element might have been taking place?

He gets paranoid suggestions from Terry (Diane Kruger), a dog groomer and twin sister of his wife, Becca (also Kruger) as well as a conspiracy theorist. He gets more tech-savvy answers from Terry's ex-husband, the nebbish Maury (Guy Pearce). Karsh also gets involved with the blind wife (Sandrine Holt) of a Hungarian billionaire who wants to utilize the technology as his own impending death from illness looms - and there's a possibility that this scenario might play a role in the mysterious sabotage.

Cronenberg has long been known as the king of body horror, which derives from so many of his films having to do with the horrors of the body's ailment, whether it's the gooey remake of "The Fly," the twisted tale of twin doctors "Dead Ringers," the recent surgery-heavy "Crimes of the Future," the medically-themed "The Brood," or "Videodrome," a film about losing the sense of one's reality that suggests "leaving the old flesh behind."

In many ways, "The Shrouds" also feels like an answer to the director's moniker. Throughout the film, Karsh has dreams in which Becca comes to his bed nude at night and her body is seen slowly disintegrating from her disease. At one point, she shows up with a missing breast or an arm. During a scene in which they cuddle, her hip suddenly snaps because of the frailty of her bones. While Cronenberg's body horror movies suggested the frailty of the flesh, his latest is based on the very real horrors of the body's wasting away due to age or disease.

While I liked "The Shrouds" and found its labyrinthine conspiracy theories compelling and mysterious, the picture ranks more in the realm of some of his more recent films such as "Maps to the Stars" or "Cosmopolis," rather than some of the aforementioned body horror classics or the work from his highly productive late 20th century-early 21st century period - for example, "Crash," "Spider," "A History of Violence," "Eastern Promises" or "A Dangerous Method."

Cassell makes a compelling lead as a seemingly Cronenbergian stand-in and the rest of cast - Kruger playing double duty, Pearce as the squirrelly technology expert, and Holt as the mysterious wife of the Hungarian billionaire - are also good. Despite some squirmy sequences involving decomposing corpses, "The Shrouds" is a bit milder than some of the director's other films, especially the recent, grim "Crimes of the Future." It's not one of his best, but it's possibly his most personal and overall a good film.

Movie Review: Sinners

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

Ryan Coogler’s “Sinners” may at times feel like a riff on Robert Rodriguez’s “From Dusk Till Dawn” and, sure enough, the final third of the picture is fairly similar to that one – but this is also a movie with much more on its mind and, for the most part, works as a period piece, gangster drama set in the South and somewhat a musical that touches on race and, yes, features vampires.

Not all of this necessarily works, but overall Coogler’s latest – a big budget studio film that is a nice reprieve from all the IP, sequels, and reboots – is an engaging picture. It also helps that it has such a strong cast, from Michael B. Jordan playing two former mob-affiliated brothers, Hailee Steinfeld as a family affiliate who had an affair with one of the brothers, Wunmi Mosaku as the former lover of the other brother, Miles Canton as a cousin and budding musician, and the always-great, scene-stealing Delroy Lindo as another musician.

There’s a lot going on in “Sinners,” but the general premise is that Smoke and Stack (Jordan) – considering how much this film is indebted to the blues, I can only assume that these names were inspired by a certain Howlin’ Wolf song – are brothers who previously did jobs for Al Capone in Chicago and, in 1932 Mississippi, have returned home to open a juke joint in the middle of nowhere.

They enlist the help of Sammy (Canton), a shy cousin who is gifted with the guitar, and Delta Slim (Lindo), a cranky harmonica player, to provide music on opening night. Mosaku’s Annie – with whom Smoke once had a child who died – will help run the joint, while store owner Grace (Li Jun Li) and her husband will mind the bar. A large man named Cornbread (Omar Benson Miller) will provide security. A seemingly shady man sells the brothers the building and swears that the Ku Klux Klan is no longer active in the area, upon their inquiry on the matter.

The film’s first third does a nice job of establishing its many characters and what their relationships are to each other. The picture is gorgeously shot and its first section involves numerous scenes of its characters making their way through sunny, but isolated, landscapes. The film’s middle portion involves the opening night. And the final section involves the event’s intrusion by a trio of white vampires – who also happen to be in a band – as they lure guests outside, pick them off one by one, and form a small army that’s ready to invade the juke joint, that is, if they’re invited in.

Not every scene in the film works. For example, during Sammy’s debut, Coogler and company make a strange stylistic choice by portraying various types of artists of consequence through the ages – from African dancers to men on electric guitars and even a DJ scratching a record – hanging out in the juke as the music plays. I’m sure there’s a point to be made here about the power of music and those who possess the quality to transfix others by playing it, but it comes off as half baked.

Also, the final confrontation with the vampires comes off a bit rushed after what felt like a significant amount of buildup. However, a semi-cathartic scene following that when Smoke takes on some Klan members more than makes up for it.

In recent years, Coogler has primarily been making films that might qualify as existing IP – “Creed” or “Black Panther” sequels – that were good, if not earth shattering. This is the first original film he has made since “Fruitvale Station” and while it doesn’t reach the levels of that powerful, lower budget picture, it’s still an engaging movie that juggles a variety of genres and concepts, mostly in a smooth manner. All in all, it’s pretty good.

Review: Warfare

Image courtesy of A24.

If nothing else, director Alex Garland's "Warfare" is an example of impressive execution. The film, based on the actual experiences of co-director Ray Mendoza, throws you right into the melee of being under fire in an intense standoff between American forces and Iraqi jihadists in 2006. As such, it's a gripping experience that is likely to make you queasy.

But much like Garland's 2024 film "Civil War," another example of an impressively executed scenario, the film is lacking in other areas that might have made it even more compelling. In the case of the previous film, I thought that the director took a disturbing scenario that has clearly been on the minds of many Americans and made an intense thriller out of the material without providing much insight or perspective. 

Likewise, "Warfare" is gripping because of the nature of what it's about and due to the execution of the scenario, but it provides little in the way of context - or even characterization. We hardly know any of the characters' names or much else about them. We certainly don't see the jihadists firing upon them, at least not much more than brief glimpses. We don't know how or why the scenario unfolded, other than that this group of NAVY Seals is cornered in a house and is nearly blown to tatters by people firing on the house.

Now, there's some argument to be made that doing so is a way of refuting Francois Truffaut's assertion that there's no such thing as an anti-war movie. That comment was made to point out that by investing audiences in characters set against war backdrops and the exciting nature of such stories glamorize the experience. "Warfare" does no such thing. We know little about the individuals involved and the scenario that unfolds is merely horrifying - and not exciting in the traditional manner in which a war movie might be presented.

As the film opens, the group of Seals, led by a character portrayed by Will Poulter, bust into an Iraqi home in the middle of the night. They argue that they're there to protect the family inside, although it really comes off as more of a hostage situation if we're being honest. The first 30 minutes of the picture does a solid job of capturing the occasional boredom of participating in a war. The men mostly sit around the house, looking through rifle scopes at the streets outside and listening in as they receive information and direction from their superiors via radio.

At one point, a soldier spots some men entering a house across the street holding weapons. Shortly thereafter, a grenade is thrown through the window into the house and an attack ensues. A tank is called in to rescue the men, but is blown up, critically injuring two of the men (played by Cosmo Jarvis and Joseph Quinn), who spend much of the rest of the film bleeding and screaming as the others try to hold their wounds together.

A second platoon is sent in as a rescue mission and the final quarter of the film involves the two groups of men trying to extricate themselves from the house while firing upon the mostly unseen assailants surrounding it. The film has a "you are here" style of pseudo-documentary filmmaking that is effective and unrelenting.

But what "Warfare" ends up being is mostly an exercise. It's an effective one, but it's nothing more and nothing less than watching a grueling wartime scenario play out in real time. Both "Civil War" and "Warfare" deserve praise for their execution - but unlike some of Garland's previous works, such as the screenplay for Danny Boyle's great "28 Days Later" as well as the solid "Ex Machina" and "Annihilation," there's not much deeper under the surface. It's an example of a well-made portrayal of things that happened without much in the way of context, characterization, or perspective.

Review: The Friend

Image courtesy of Bleecker Street Media.

David Siegel and Scott McGehee's filmography is so vast in terms of style and content that it's often easy to forget some of the films they have created together. A number of their pictures feel as if they don't belong in the same category as the others.

Their work has included the black-and-white, noirish "Suture" and the thriller "The Deep End" as well as family dramas "Bee Season" and "What Maisie Knew" and the moody "Montana Story." Their latest, "The Friend," is their best and an addition to another sub-genre - the literate New York intellectual milieu drama - in which they've never worked.

In the film, teacher and writer's-blocked author Iris (Naomi Watts in her best performance in some time) is stuck. She's been putting off her latest novel, instead working on a book of correspondence written by her best friend, acclaimed author and larger-than-life personality Walter (Bill Murray), with his daughter following his suicide. No worries, this isn't a spoiler as it's laid out at the film's beginning that Walter has died. He appears only in flashback.

Iris is distraught at the death of her friend, who was briefly a lover many years before but has mainly been a confidant and pal during Walter's three marriages. All three of his wives, including his present one, have shown up for his funeral. His latest wife asks Iris to come by the house when she has a chance. Upon doing so, Iris learns of Walter's last favor he asks of her - besides, of course, working on his letters of correspondence book - adopting his dog, a massive great dane named Apollo.

Reluctantly, Iris does so and learns about great danes quickly that it is difficult to get them to do anything they don't want to due to their size. This includes moving Apollo off her bed, so she takes to sleeping on an air mattress on the floor. To make matters worse, Iris is threatened by the management company from her building that she will be evicted if she doesn't ditch the dog.

Naturally, Iris begins to bond with the pup, who also seems sad and disconsolate over the death of its master. No, this is not what one might call a cute movie nor is it a treacly film of the type in which a dog is the main character and observes the actions of a smarmy family. "The Friend" is a poignant film about friendship, the lengths one would go for those whom one loves, and making new friendships. Also, it's one of the better films I've seen of late about grief and the process of acceptance.

Watts has long been a great actress - I just recently rewatched the remarkable "Mulholland Drive" and was impressed all over again by her breakout performance in that film. She's been very good in a number of other films over the years, but it's been a while since she's had a juicy role, so this film is being viewed as somewhat of a comeback, and it's well earned: She's very good. 

Murray is also solid in what mostly amounts to a small supporting performance and the rest of the cast is also memorable - most notably, Constance Wu as one of Walter's more difficult ex-wives and Carla Gugino as the ex to whom Iris is closest. Much like in "Mulholland Drive," there's a scene late in the picture in which Watts concocts a fantasy - in this case, it's a conversation with Walter. It's a powerful moment in a movie full of them - and much more so than one might expect about a person bonding with a gigantic dog. This is one of the year's cinematic bright spots so far.