Review: The Last Duel

Image courtesy of Walt Disney Studios.

 

Those expressing some element of surprise that Ridley Scott's "The Last Duel" is being described as a "feminist" film have seemingly forgotten the director's "Thelma and Louise," "Alien" and, to a lesser extent, "G.I. Jane." Scott is often thought of as the director of muscular — and masculine — big budget studio enterprises such as "Gladiator," "Blade Runner," "Kingdom of Heaven" and "Black Hawk Down," but his work has on occasion considered — thoughtfully, I might add — feminist themes.

"The Last Duel" is no different. And bad haircuts aside — and in all honesty, they're pretty bad — the film, which features the first co-screenwriting credit between Matt Damon and Ben Affleck since "Good Will Hunting" along with an assist by indie director Nicole Holofcener, is a surprisingly tense and well made period piece.

To simplify its description, the true story tells the tale of Sir Jean de Carrouges (Damon) and Jacques Le Gris (Adam Driver), two 14th century squires and old friends whose relationship goes sour for a number of reasons. For starters, de Carrouges saves Le Gris' life, but later comes to resent him after their foppish, degenerate liege Pierre d'Aloncon (Affleck, with a blonde goatee and haircut that makes him look like the leader of a one-hit wonder band from the late 1990s) holds Les Gris in favor over the more accomplished, mullet-wearing de Carrouges.

The first sign of bad blood is when de Carrouges takes as his wife Marguerite (Jodie Comer), the daughter of a wealthy man who has fallen in bad favor with the king, and Le Gris is given a piece of land that de Carrouges believed was to be his as part of his wife's dowry. Things get worse when d'Aloncon, who hates the icy de Carrouges, makes Le Gris the captain of the parcel of land where de Carrouge's father had previously held the position and de Carrouges expected to follow in his footsteps.

But things really go south after de Carrouges and Le Gris attempt to patch things up, and Le Gris becomes attracted to Marguerite. He later shows up at de Carrouges' abode while the man of the castle is away on business and sexually assaults Marguerite. She, in turn, accuses him of the crime, which leads to a planned duel between the two men. The catch is, as all the faux-pious men in the film decree, that God will decide who is telling the truth (Le Gris denies the rape), and therefore Marguerite could face a torturous death should her husband lose the duel.

For a movie set during medieval times, "The Last Duel" is oddly timely, as women's rights are still being challenged in our modern era. One priest, who attempts to find ways for Le Gris' crime to be considered something other than an assault, tells Le Gris that a rape is not a crime against a woman, but rather her husband, since his wife is considered his property. During the trial involved in the case, Marguerite is, of course, subjected to all the usual torment from her misogynist interrogators - they ask if she receives pleasure from her husband during sex, and tell the pregnant Marguerite that a baby cannot be born from an incident that causes pleasure, suggesting she enjoyed Le Gris' assault, thereby not making it a rape.

The film is told in three chapters, all of which are titled "The Truth According To (Insert Character's Name)," and this "Rashomon"-style approach is an interesting one indeed. In de Carrouges' telling of the story, he sees himself as the hero who has been wronged by a friend and who is protecting his wife, whereas Le Gris sees himself as a lover who was given signs of attraction by Marguerite that he followed to fruition. In describing the rape to d'Aloncon, he says that Marguerite put up the "expected opposition" to his advances, as if women saying "no" is really a way of saying "yes."

When we get to "The Truth According to Marguerite," the words "the truth" linger slightly longer on the screen. In her version of the story, both of the men are beasts, de Carrouges a cold, self-important man whose only reason for engaging in the duel is his wounded pride and longstanding sense of injustice at the hands of d'Aloncon and Le Gris. Not surprisingly, Le Gris comes off as a rapist who believes that no woman on earth could possibly not want to have sex with him. Both men see themselves as just in their roles in the affair, but Marguerite would likely be better off if the two end up killing each other in the duel.

Speaking of which, the titular bout is a brutal sequence that will likely leave one flinching. In terms of sheer brutality — and execution — it's a heart stopper. At 83 years of age, Ridley Scott proves that he still has it as a maker of big budget spectacles — he even has a second film, "House of Gucci," getting released later this year — and his latest is a tale well told with concepts that are resonant in our current political climate. "The Last Duel" was a pleasant, if that's the word for a film about such dark occurrences, surprise and one of Scott's better films of recent years.

Review: The Velvet Underground

Image courtesy of Apple.

On the one hand, Todd Haynes' documentary "The Velvet Underground," which chronicles the creation and eventual dissolution of one of America's seminal rock 'n roll bands, displays the characteristics of your typical rock doc - the origins of the band, the back stories of its members, the moment they clicked, their longstanding influence and, in the case of this band, the eventual breakup.

And yet, the film feels quite unlike most music documentaries. While the story goes from point A (the creation of the band) to point B (its breakup) in a linear style and features some talking head interviews with everyone from surviving members John Cale and Maureen Tucker and musician Jonathan Richman (of The Modern Lovers) to director John Waters and avant garde filmmaker Jonas Mekas (who founded the Anthology Film Archives), it's an aural and visual experience in the style of one of Andy Warhol's films - the pop artist icon produced the band's debut record - blended with a visual representation of how the Velvets sounded: haunting, discordant, otherworldly, chaotic.

At times, much like Warhol's "Chelsea Girls," split screens are telling several parts of the story at once, with the narrative of the band's formation on one side, and scenes of yesteryear in New York City or Warhol's screen tests of Reed or Cale on the other. So, ultimately, the end result is that the film feels less like your typical music documentary, although containing the basic structure of one, and more like a live performance by the Velvet Underground, with flashing lights, the droning sounds often present in their music and a slight sense of being off balance. 

Then again, it shouldn't be surprising that the film does such a good job of capturing the band's essence. Haynes' work - when it doesn't involve remarkable 1950s pastiches like "Far from Heaven" or "Carol" - has often focused on musicians, from his incredibly strange "Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story," which imagined the tragic life of the singer via Barbie dolls, to his glam rock extravaganza "Velvet Goldmine" and his absolutely brilliant treatise on Bob Dylan, "I'm Not There." While "The Velvet Underground" is his first documentary, it fits right into his wheelhouse.

This is also not a movie with a sole aim to praise the brilliance of its subjects and gloss over any unglamorous aspects. Amy Taubin, the film critic who (previously unbeknownst to me) spent a fair amount of time at Warhol's Factory, notes at one point that women at the Factory were primarily there for their looks, and had a hard time being taken seriously otherwise, although both Warhol and the Velvets, according to this documentary at least, appeared to be taken by Nico's otherworldly presence during her contribution to "The Velvet Underground & Nico" album.

Also, as brilliant an artist as he was, Reed is often portrayed as difficult, both to work with and as a friend. He fired Warhol after the band's first two albums, and eventually pushed Cale out of the band. Cale, who is the most extensively interviewed member during the documentary, is also described as a temperamental artist by others, and it's not kept a secret that the band members became increasingly aggressive and hostile toward each other on the road and during recording sessions, which was why albums like "White Light/White Heat" felt pretty intense.

One of the aspects that Haynes does a great job of capturing and using cinematic techniques at representing is the band's improvisational nature. Cale notes on more than one occasion that this element made their live performances unique, and was the aspect of the band that was most appealing to him - he started in Wales as a classical performer. Haynes' film often feels improvisational by nature, compiling the interviews from his subjects to lay out the general story, but often allowing the conversation to veer in different directions in a manner that feels loose, but by no means lacking direction.

And while Warhol's work - especially "Chelsea Girls" and his extremely long static shot of the Empire State Building titled "Empire" - is scattered throughout the documentary, Haynes also makes great use of a number of other iconic experimental films of the era, including Jack Smith's raunchy "Flaming Creatures" and Kenneth Anger's "Scorpio Rising." 

Brian Eno once famously said that The Velvet Underground didn't sell many records at the time when they were together, but that everyone who bought one of their records went out and started a band. It's easy to see why. This is a fascinating look at one of the U.S.'s most unique bands. Haynes has made a chronicle of the band in a manner that has captured its members' voices and would likely make them proud.

Review: No Time To Die

Image courtesy of MGM.

 

Daniel Craig's James Bond goes out with a bang in the slightly overlong, but mostly enjoyable, "No Time to Die," which features a smorgasbord of great actors in supporting roles, the most memorable theme song and opener in some time and a lot of breathtaking locations. In other words, another day's work for this series, which has almost existed for 60 years onscreen.

When we catch up with Bond at the film's beginning, he is living a retired life in Jamaica, five years after he believed that his lover, Madeleine (Lea Seydoux) sold him out. She has disappeared and when she resurfaces late in the film, she has a young daughter (his?) in tow. Bond is pulled out of retirement by his pal Felix Leiter (Jeffrey Wright, always a pleasure) to track down a villain who appears to being hunting Spectre, the rogues gallery of villains of previous Bond films.

At the center of this conspiracy is a shadowy figure named Lyutsifer Satin (Rami Malek), which sounds close enough to "Lucifer Satan" to make the eyes roll a bit, whom we first meet in a flashback as he murders a mother and nearly kills a young girl, who will grow up to be one of the film's characters. In the present, he is tending to a poison garden - the concept of the diabolical plot that puts the world at risk in this film is a little too threadbare - that he will use to... well, do something bad.

Once back on the job, Bond is amused to find that there's a new 007 agent, Nomi (Lashana Lynch), and the two do a whole lot of stepping on each other's toes. The weapon being developed by Malek's character was apparently stolen from a top secret lab, where a corrupt Russian scientist had helped to develop it. Apparently, M (Ralph Fiennes) had been overseeing the development of the weapon with better intentions than those who steal it.

The plot of "No Time to Die" is a bit labyrinthine, at least in terms of what Satin's plan is, who exactly he is seeking revenge upon, what the weapon he has will exactly do, etc. I'm sure some explanations are given that I missed, but this is a long film with a lot of action sequences, a fair amount of exposition and at least one shocking plot development, so some of the details might have been lost in the mix.

Regardless of these issues, "No Time to Die" is a fairly fast paced Bond picture, better than "Spectre" and "Quantum of Solace," about equal to "Casino Royale," but not as good as "Skyfall." It's either the second or the middle-of-the-pack in the Craig series. Craig is steely as ever and brings pathos to the role, while the supporting cast is pretty solid, especially Ana de Armas as an agent who gives an assist to Bond during a mission in Cuba. I would have been happy to spend much more time with her character.

So, while much has been made of this being the final Daniel Craig Bond film, it's surely not the last. Craig has left his stamp on the role, and the films in which he has been involved have tried to evolve the character somewhat, whereas the older Bond films, fun as they could often be, were mostly a lot of shootouts, scenes of Bond bedding women and double entendres. By making Bond more of an actual character, the Craig era has made a franchise that had grown a little stale become more engaging, even if all of the entries didn't succeed. "No Time to Die" is a pretty decent sendoff for the actor's portrayal of the iconic character.

Review: The Many Saints Of Newark

Image courtesy of Warner Bros.

While "The Many Saints of Newark" may not be on the level of "The Sopranos," the groundbreaking HBO series for which it acts as a sort of prologue, it is a mostly engaging story set in the 1960s that focuses - but only occasionally - on a young Tony Soprano (played by Michael Gandolfini, James's son) and his youthful foibles, and how they might have led to him becoming the fearsome New Jersey mobster who we know.

However, the story of "Many Saints" is more about the person whose name gives the film part of its title. Dickie Moltisanti - whose name in Italian means "many saints" - is the father of Christopher (Michael Imperioli), who narrates the film from a graveyard, and cousin-by-marriage of Tony. In the film, he comes to act as a guiding influence on Tony, although much less than you might expect based on the trailer.

Dickie is a bad guy who tries to convince himself that he's a good one, mostly because he believes that he looks out for Tony and, in his free time, coaches a blind baseball team. His father, Hollywood Moltisanti (Ray Liotta) has just arrived back from Italy with a new bride, Giuseppina (Michela De Rossi), with whom Dickie becomes close after he notices that his father slaps her around. Eventually, something more than friendship blooms.

Meanwhile, tensions are flaring all around. Junior Soprano (Corey Stoll captures the character in all of his snakiness) begins to sour on Dickie after the latter laughs at the former during an embarrassing moment, while on the other side of Newark buildings are being burned and stores looted during the Newark riots of 1967, caused by several cops who brutally beat a Black cab driver. 

During all this, Dickie's work relationship with a Black crime affiliate named Harold (Leslie Odom Jr.) begins to fray after the two had been involved in a lucrative partnership involving the numbers game. But Harold wants to break out on his own, rather than continually relying on Dickie as a benefactor, and violence soon breaks out between the mob and Newark's Black gangsters.

Throughout all of this, new actors pop up as favorite old characters - Samson Moeakiola and Billy Magnussen have the look and mannerisms down for Big Pussy and Paulie Walnuts, respectively, while John Magaro's portrayal of Silvio Dante is, while impressive in its mimicry, perhaps a little too much of an impersonation. Vera Farmiga certainly scores as Livia Soprano, Tony's beleaguered mother, and Stoll is scary as Uncle Junior.

Among the new characters, Harold is certainly an interesting figure, although somewhat of a cypher and mostly missing during the film's second half. While Liotta's portrayal of Hollywood is fine, his work as Hollywood's brother in prison, whom Dickie visits out of a sense of duty, is more impressive. A jazz aficionado, his character comes to act as somewhat of an adviser for Dickie, who is being pulled in different directions by different people.

But, not surprisingly, the most interesting facet of the film is the story of young Tony, who is portrayed by Gandolfini as a sweet, luggish kid who might have become a decent person had he not grown up around his family, and those in The Family. While Gandolfini has his father's mannerisms down pretty well, he also displays his vulnerability. There are moments here when the character vacillates between being the thug Tony would become and an entirely different person whom he might have been if he'd been exposed to better mentors.

There's also an interesting, albeit brief, subplot in which Tony tries to get his depressive mother to consider taking some pills that her doctor prescribed for sleep, signaling Tony's own interest in psychiatry that would come years later during David Chase's show. There's a particularly moving sequence during which Tony attempts to contact Dickie, who has decided to stay out of his nephew's life to prevent him from getting into crime, only to be stuck outside alone in the snow around Christmas.

So, no, "The Many Saints of Newark" doesn't reach the heights of the incredible TV show, which heralded in the Golden Age of Television, and influenced so many great shows that came after it. "The Sopranos" in turn was influenced by Scorsese's mob movies, especially "Goodfellas," so it's interesting to see this story come full circle with Liotta in two roles and, of course, Lorraine Bracco's fantastic work on the show. While it may not be on par with the show's best episodes, it's still an entertaining mob picture with a great supporting cast and some interesting links drawn between this film and the show that preceded it. Fans of the program will likely get a kick out of it.

Review: Titane

Image courtesy of Neon.

It's a rare occasion when I can make such proclamations, but Julia Ducournau's "Titane" is mostly unlike anything else you've ever seen. I say mostly because while there are some elements that feel influenced by other filmmakers - some body horror in the vein of David Cronenberg, a dance sequence and some other stylistic elements that would feel at home in a Claire Denis movie - this demented serial killer splatter picture cum familial drama is truly in a mind boggling league of its own.

The film's grim prologue acts as somewhat of an explainer, although there's nothing that can quite explain the rest of the picture. At the beginning, a young girl is misbehaving in the back seat of a car, making loud noises and kicking the seat in front of her while her increasingly annoyed father attempts to drive. When he turns around to punish her, his car spins out of control, and the young girl's head is thrown against the window. An operation is performed and a metal plate is inserted into her head. Upon leaving the hospital, the girl approaches the car in which she was injured and lovingly embraces it.

Some years later, this same girl, Alexia (Agathe Rousselle), works at car shows, performing what amount to stripper-like dances (but leaving her clothes on) on the hoods of cars at car shows. She has attracted a following and often signs autographs after her performance. One night, a seemingly obsessed fan follows her out to her car, forces himself upon her and gets stabbed through the head with her weapon of choice - a metal hair pin with which she keeps her hair held in place. We soon realize that the man is not her first victim.

Alexia's victims begin to pile up - and the film features a delirious sequence in which she bumps off one victim who has come onto her (that seems to be her tipping point), only to realize that the house where the killing has taken place is hosting a sex party, and people continue to come downstairs, leading to a body count that quickly piles up. The absurdity of the otherwise gory sequence - there's a killing involving a bar stool that's just brutal - reminded me of the hilariously bungled hit in "Mulholland Drive," or felt like a scene that wouldn't be out of place in a Quentin Tarantino movie.

Then, something completely loony happens. Alexia finds a car waiting for her one night after her performance, she enters it and a sexual encounter occurs... between Alexia and the car. The result of this insane tryst displays even more chutzpah than the sex scene itself. This is a film that forces you to extend your disbelief quite a bit, and then asks you to extend it even more to absurd heights. But because the film is so completely committed to its vision, it works.

Alexia finds that she must hide out, believing the police to be on her trail, and notices a sign on a wall regarding a young boy who has been missing for years. She decides to pose as the young man, tapes down her chest and passes herself off as the missing lad. The boy's single father, a brutish firefighter captain named Vincent (Vincent London), appears so overwhelmed by the possible return of his son that he doesn't question the obviously bizarre circumstances and Alexia's odd appearance. He's just glad to have his son back.

The film's second half almost feels like another movie altogether, transforming from a bloody serial killer thriller into a dysfunctional family drama with some extreme body horror elements. There's no way I can discuss the film further without giving away a key plot point, so if you don't want the film's most absurd plot thread ruined for you, read no further.

The second half of "Titane" is some sort of treatise on the fragility of the body - both because Alexia is trying to hide her pregnancy, brought on by her sexual tryst with the automobile, as oil seeps out of her body in the shower and her stomach starts to bulge, while Vincent is obsessed with retaining his physique in his battle with Father Time, sticking himself in the ass with a needle full of steroids in an attempt to retain his muscular frame.

The film's second half is not only about the failings of the body over time, but also explores the concept of what it means to "take care of" another person. While Vincent is determined to watch over his long-lost son, and is fiercely protective when bringing Alexia around the alpha males in his firehouse, Alexia must also care for the tormented Vincent, often picking him up off the bathroom floor after his steroid use has caused him to collapse.

With only two features - including "Raw," her squirm inducing debut about cannibalism - Ducournau has proved herself to be a provocateur and a chronicler of body horror who would make Cronenberg proud. While "Raw" was impressive, it was a film that I more appreciated than loved, whereas "Titane" is one of the most unique, bizarre, intentionally unpleasant, hilarious, shocking and confident films I've seen in some time. This is a filmmaker in control of a particularly bold vision. 

Some may love "Titane" (count me among that crowd), while others may hate it and some may have no idea what to make of it. Others may feel a combination of these responses. But I'd bet that one thing is for sure: Those who have seen won't soon forget it.

Review: Dear Evan Hansen

Image courtesy of Universal Pictures.

A lot of hatred has been thrown at the big-screen adaptation of the surprise Broadway hit "Dear Evan Hansen," and while, yes, it has its issues and is a far cry from the excellent previous film about youth angst from director Stephen Chbosky - his lovely adaptation of his own novel, "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" - it's not the atrocity you might have heard it is.

Much of the vitriol aimed at the picture - which, at 137 minutes, is a bit long and the transitions into song from dialogue are occasionally a little awkward - seems to be centered around the fact that Ben Platt, who is 28 years old and starred in the Broadway production, doesn't look like he's in high school. At the same time, he looks young enough, so this isn't one of those Luke Perry situations, if you know what I mean.

Secondly, many of the reviews have pegged the lead character, Evan (Platt), as some sort of megalomaniacal villain, whereas he's instead a young man who's nearly crippled by social anxiety, and the role he takes in a community's grieving over the death of another young man who almost nobody knew actually starts from a good place, even if later it spirals out of control, and Evan seems to like that the dead boy's family sort of adopts him (his own mother, played well by Julianne Moore, works at a hospital and isn't home as much as she'd like to be).

The story is basically this: Evan has no friends, and neither does Connor (Colton Ryan), who's own anxiety causes him to lash out and occasionally act violently. Evan has a crush on Connor's sister, Zoe (Kaitlyn Dever), although there's some confusion regarding her character because she appears to be younger than Evan and Connor, but then she graduates at the same time as Evan late in the film.

Anyway, Evan is assigned by his psychiatrist to write inspirational letters to himself - which begin "Dear Evan Hansen" - as a way to combat his social anxiety. After printing one of the letters out one day, Connor gets to it first at the printer and refuses to give it back to Evan. Later that day, Connor commits suicide and his grieving parents - Cynthia (Amy Adams) and Larry (Danny Pino) - mistake Evan's letter to himself as a suicide note written from Connor to Evan. They assume Evan was his only friend.

Although he tries to explain that he wrote the letter, Evan recognizes that Connor's parents need to believe that Connor wasn't alone and had a friend, so he plays along with their belief that Connor wrote the letter. This then creates sympathy from the student body toward Evan and Connor - both of whom were previously ignored by other students - and eventually makes Cynthia, Larry and Zoe begin to consider Evan as one of the family after they spend time with him. A romance also blooms with Zoe.

As Evan's lie snowballs, a fund is started in Connor's name by an enterprising, but also socially anxious (albeit outwardly gregarious), young woman named Alana (Amandla Stenberg), who wants Evan to take part in the group to help raise funds for a park that will be named after Connor at an orchard where he apparently used to like to spend time.

One of the film's problems is that it doesn't appear to know what to make of Evan. As I'd mentioned, his original reason for lying about being Connor's friend was to comfort Connor's distraught parents, who believed their son didn't have a friend in the world. Yes, Evan eventually begins to benefit from this arrangement - with Zoe's affections as well as an offer made by Connor's parents to Evan's mother later in the movie - but he never comes off as the conniving, self-centered villain in which some reviews have painted him.

And Platt's age isn't as much of a distraction as the occasional awkward segues from dialogue into songs, and the way these scenes are shot - quite often, two people sitting on a couch singing to each other. The songs themselves are OK, but the performers give them their all. Moore is convincing as Evan's proud mother, who doesn't like the fact that people believe she is too poor to pay for higher education for her son - by the way, it always makes me laugh how the homes of the "poor" are depicted in movies, and this film is no exception. Other supporting performances were noteworthy as well - especially Nik Dodani as Jared, Evan's only other sort-of friend, who provides some levity.

With his "Perks of Being a Wallflower" novel and film, Chbosky showed some real mastery of the coming-of-age genre, but while "Dear Evan Hansen" is overly long and not on par with that film, it's neither the complete fiasco that some might have you believe it is. In the way it depicts social anxiety among young people and the feeling of loneliness among outcasts in high school, it has its heart in the right place. It's a film that means well and hits some of the right notes, even if others don't ring as true. It's somewhat of a mixed bag, but it has its moments.

Review: The Eyes Of Tammy Faye

Image courtesy of Fox Searchlight.

Michael Showalter's "The Eyes of Tammy Faye" adapts the 2000 documentary of the same name into a feature film that pretty much follows the same story, although it features a feat of acting by Jessica Chastain, who undergoes the most shocking transformation I can think of since Charlize Theron's turn in "Monster."

It's a pretty decent film, even if it all feels pretty familiar. The story tells the rise and fall of Jim (Andrew Garfield, who very effectively lays on the smarm here) Bakker and his wife, the heavily-made up Tammy Faye (Chastain). As a young girl, Tammy Faye felt the calling of the Lord, but wasn't allowed in her mother's (Cherry Jones) church, where the older woman was the organist, because her mother had gone through a divorce. They basically needed an organist, so Tammy Faye took the brunt of the punishment, and it's an early example of her coming up against the sexist views of the church.

In school, Tammy Faye is drawn to Jim, who can certainly quote scripture, but often does so to explain why God wants him - and Tammy Faye and, hell, everyone - to prosper, and not to suffer needlessly on this planet. In other words, he makes all sorts of justifications for the ridiculous amount of wealth he'll acquire through the empire that he and Tammy Faye - who's really the saleswoman in the couple - build together.

But first, they must go through Pat Robertson, played by Gabriel Olds as an old stick-in-the-mud compared to Jim and Tammy Faye's affected exuberance, who has the market cornered on televangelism in Virginia. They get jobs on his TV network, and gradually draw an audience, thereby allowing them to eventually break off on their own to start PTL (Praise the Lord), a TV network with religious programming that basically also sells the product of Jim and Tammy Faye, much in the way that Donald Trump's presidency wasn't so much a platform for his adopted political party, but rather a way to consistently give himself attention.

Jones's somewhat icy mother figure may not have been warm toward her daughter, but she's not wrong when she criticizes Tammy Faye's lifestyle, although she's later quick to accept a fancy coat. Meanwhile, there are other forces with which to contend, including the homophobic, back-stabbing Jerry Falwell (Vincent D'Onofrio, also physically disappearing into the role), who is rubbed the wrong way by Tammy Faye's overt "feminism," which is basically just her voicing her opinion now and again among the boys' club of televangelists and religious charlatans.

One thing with which I'll credit the film: It spends a decent amount of time portraying Tammy Faye as an unlikely ally for the LGBTQ movement of the time, often sticking up for homosexuals during arguments with people like Falwell, who spits out hatred toward Democrats, feminists and LGBTQ people. And there's a touching sequence during her talk show in which she brings on a gay man with AIDS (this is the 1980s) and chastises parents who'd turn their backs on their children because of their sexual orientation.

Naturally, I was a little leery of this, but sure enough Tammy Faye apparently was a long-time supporter of gay rights and marched in gay pride parades, despite being married to Bakker, who, well let's say, wasn't, despite accusations that he was closeted.

Then, of course, we get the rise-and-fall scenario we typically get in movies about celebrities who rise and, yep, fall. It's all a little too familiar and the last 20 minutes or so tend to drag it out a little more than is necessary - although there's a good scene in which we once again get reminded of how much of a snake Falwell was. 

Carrying the entire picture on her shoulders is Chastain, who gives a superb performance here, capturing Tammy Faye in all her bubbly enthusiasm, but harboring melancholy just below the surface. A scene in which she catches her husband and some crew members making fun of her behind her back is near devastating, and it's hard not to feel sympathy for her, even though she wasn't likely too in the dark about her husband's shady business dealings.

"The Eyes of Tammy Faye" isn't a great biopic, but it's pretty decent, and it features some strong performances. No, it doesn't deviate too much from the documentary on which it was based, but it also doesn't play too much like a greatest hits package of that previous film to become dull. Expect Chastain to get mentioned around awards time. She deserves to be.