"Little Women"

 ☆☆☆☆☆ 

Here, finally, is the balm for our times, whose generous, warm, deeply caring soul looks straight at humanity and pronounces it good and worthy; a film that follows so many decades of slavish, imagination-starved page-to-screen transliterations that it makes film adaptation seem like a new art form.

Little Women is an exquisite piece of work. It is breathtakingly beautiful, made with exquisite care by writer-director Greta Gerwig, and to call it the best movie of the year seems something of a disservice: As it unfolds, you're aware that this is a film that is going to be watched and loved for many generations to come. It's extravagant, lush, splendidly envisioned, but also tender, aching and infused with a spirit of love and kindness that is all too rare.

You might, as I did, dimly remember the classic book from childhood, or one of its many adaptations, but Gerwig has found a magnificent new way to approach Louisa May Alcott's semi-autobiographical novel. Though it's set during the Civil War, the emotions at play are timeless: yearning, jealousy, joy, anger, disappointment, grief, hope. Saoirse Ronan is mighty as Jo, who here is quite forthrightly assumed to be Alcott, but every member of the cast is magnificent: Emma Watson, Florence Pugh and Eliza Scanlon as sisters Meg, Amy and Beth; Timothée Chalamet and Chris Cooper as handsome neighbor Laurie and his father; Laura Dern as Marmee; Meryl Streep as Aunt March. Does it sound like fawning? It is. Little Women is just glorious.



Viewed Dec. 31, 2019 -- ArcLight Sherman Oaks

1900

"Harriet"

 ☆☆☆ 

It's practically impossible to dislike Harriet, an earnest and entirely adequate biography of Harriet Tubman, the former slave whose heroic accomplishments in freeing 70 black Americans from chains and guiding them to freedom along the Underground Railroad is the stuff of legend (and, it needs to be mentioned, sorely neglected history).

With such a sweeping, death-defying story, why, then does Harriet feel leaden? It's not entirely inert, especially not with Cynthia Erivo in the title role, plus the always-riveting and vibrant Janelle Monáe in a key supporting part. It's beautifully shot in Virginia and meticulously crafted, with exquisite period sets and costumes. But it also has a screenplay (by Lemmons and Gregory Allen Howard) that, with a couple of tiny excisions, would have been right at home as a TV network movie of the week in the 1980s. It hits all the important points of Tubman's rise from slavery to leadership – including slave owners who do all but twirl their mustaches in villainy – and ends just as things are really getting good; here's a rare movie that could have benefitted from another half-hour.

The film's music score is an odd one; it mixes traditional and modern in ways that the movie itself doesn't match, and is a distraction. Similarly distancing is the movie's too-clean cinematography, which has the flat sharpness of television; the film's lush production is not served well by this visual decision. The resulting film is one you feel you should watch, not that you want to watch.




Viewed Dec. 29, 2019 -- DVD

"I Lost My Body"

 ☆☆☆½ 

What a strange work of wonder this film is -- another reminder in the age of big-studio dominance that animation is not always (or even ideally) about singing princesses or wisecracking playthings. But if a bug, a rat or a car can captivate, why not a hand?

It's a forlorn hand, severed from its former owner in an accident that opens the movie, one we don't see, though we learn who the hand belongs to and see the bloody aftermath. (Though it's all drawn, this movie might not be for the squeamish.) The hand is desperate to get back to its body. It is determined to find the place it belongs.

So, too, is the young man who used to call the hand his own. I Lost My Body is the story of that man, Naoufel, who has lost much more than his hand in his life. Through a dual series of flashbacks, he remembers his own life before one terrible afternoon, as the hand (apparently) recalls how the formerly fully limbed Naoufel came to fall rather awkwardly in something like love.

This French animated feature is bizarre, to be sure, and often emotionally uncomfortable. There's also tender wisdom in this story of the ways the past follows us wherever we go, how it insists on catching up with us, and the impossibility of ever really fitting who we were with who we are. It's surprisingly beautiful to watch, to listen to, and to ponder, through all its strangeness.



Viewed Dec. 27, 2019 -- Netflix

"Marriage Story"

 ☆☆☆☆½ 

There is trouble here, that is clear. There are the resentments and petty frustrations grown enormous that lead to seething disgust. And yet, when Noah Baumbach's Marriage Story begins, they seem surmountable.

Charlie (Adam Driver) is a successful theater director in New York. Nicole (Scarlett Johansson) is his wife and lead actress. It is clear they dislike each other, but it is also clear, right away, that they love, respect and admire each other. Aren't these the foundations for marriage?'

No. They are not enough. Maybe they were, or, as the film progresses, we learn that maybe they weren't. Who's to know? But they tried, and they failed, and Marriage Story is an absorbing, often harrowing, frequently funny and sometimes Woody Allen-esque examination not, as the title implies, of the marriage, but of the divorce.

You will think you know which side you're on right away. But difficult personalities reveal themselves as tempestuous, mercurial, ugly and unfair. Both of these people are all of these things, and also charming, clever, devoted, caring. This is not a movie that takes sides, but presents the impossibility of the situation, and the messiness of life. The point is not the resolution but for the predicament itself, and fierce performances, careful direction and an understated score by Randy Newman combine in this potent, sympathetic film that cares not about sides, only about the imperfection and pain of the end of a marriage between two people who still know exactly why they fell in love.



Viewed Dec. 22, 2019 -- Netflix

"Cats"

 ☆☆½ 

Well, what did you expect? Director Tom Hooper has made a movie version of the stage hit Cats and, guess what?  It is, in every possible way, Cats.

It is as plotless as the original, just as weird, silly and frenetic-- maybe more so, because the movie is incapable slowing down and letting us ogle it. Is it bizarre to see famous faces as cats, singing and dancing with mice and cockroaches? Very weird. The movie does the actors no favors, but also no injustices. Does the movie make any sense? No, but then the show doesn't, either.

Every single performer in this movie seems entirely comfortable with the idea of playing singing, dancing cats. They acquit themselves surprisingly well, especially (not surprisingly) Judi Dench and Ian McKellen, who give it everything they've got and then some. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. The only people discomfited by it all are pop-culture analysts who have determined this movie is worth scorn and derision. Did someone tell them they were going to see a movie about singing, dancing cats? Did they fail to notice the tails and ears and whiskers in the trailer?  The derision, the scorn and the anxiety seem to say more about the critics than about the movie.

Cats has always been weird, unsatisfying, entertaining only in fits and starts, spectacular but emotionless, filled with antiquated words and synthesized '80s music. Nothing's changed.

It's Cats. Seriously ... what did you think it was going to be?




Viewed December 22, 2019 -- AMC Burbank 16

1210

"Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker"

 ☆☆½ 

Here it is, then: the end of the "Skywalker saga." As if the first two endings weren't enough. The story of Star Wars ended with 1983's Return of the Jedi, but then came the prequel trilogy to tell us the history behind that first ending, and now comes a new trilogy to create a new story that has been carefully, painstakingly retrofitted to connect with the originals. It does connect, but only because it has to, not because it should.

It's been almost 10 years since J.J. Abrams' TV series "Lost" ended with a convoluted, non-sensical finale that answered the questions it wanted to answer and ignored the rest. Now, a decade hence, Abrams proves he has learned something as the director of The Rise of Skywalker: He tries to answer everything. He also uses one of the tricks he learned on that series, which is that if you don't like what came before, just ignore it and move on.  The Rise of Skywalker shows a certain disdain for Rian Johnson's The Last Jedi while trying to be a fan-obsessive's dream. Every major question posed by Abrams' last film, The Force Awakens, is addressed, and every character under the Star Wars sun makes at least a minor appearance, no matter how nonsensically.

The Rise of Skywalker doesn't have time for sense, even in its opening crawl, which makes the rather weird and unexpected claim that SPOILER ALERT, EVEN THOUGH IT'S NOT A SPOILER TO ANYONE WHO HAS BEEN PAYING THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF ATTENTION Emperor Palpatine is alive. No, it makes absolutely no sense. Yes, it comes completely out of the blue. But mostly this development comes because The Rise of Skywalker turns out to be, without much apology, largely a remake of Return of the Jedi.

Is that a surprise? The Force Awakens took its rhythms, cues and story structure from the original Star Wars, and now for the third film in this trilogy, Abrams returns to the originals and revises them even while keeping the structures largely the same. The sin in the director's mind seems to be that Rian Johnson and Lucasfilm's own producers were eager to take the story -- and the mythologies -- in new directions with The Last Jedi, which made both fans and Abrams uncomfortable.

So here is a return to fan-driven form, with many of the stylistic cues from George Lucas's films (bold screen wipes to transition scenes; longer, carefully composed shots) gone even while returning to those films' story beats: It seems Abrams' vision was to essentially remake the Star Wars trilogy for a new generation, and that may well be what many fans wanted, but everything about this new set of films lacks a sense of originality, a vital sense of purpose.

Nothing about The Rise of Skywalker remedies that. While it obliges in a fan-driven desire to trot out old characters (POSSIBLE VERY MINOR SPOILERS HERE!) – Look, there's Lando Calrissian! Oh, it's Wicket the Ewok! Hey, wow, it's ... wait? How is he back? – it also introduces new ones astonishingly late in the game: Plot-wise, they can serve absolutely no purpose, except to provide another level of pop-culture meta-knowingness to the proceedings: Wow, that's Richard E. Grant! Which famous actress is that under that mask? Let's stay for the credits to find out!

Meanwhile, because the Death Star or something like it has now appeared in fully one-third of Star Wars films, there's a new sinister weapon here, also capable of destroying planets, also capable of taking over the entire galaxy, so it's something that our gang of rebels must find a way to destroy MINOR SPOILER ALERT and, guess what? It's got a weakness! While they go about doing that, the nominal main character of these last three movies, Rey (Daisy Ridley, as committed as ever) is off to a showdown with the two main villains, the Emperor (Ian McDiarmid) and Kylo Ren (Adam Driver). The latter continues to communicate with Rey through a very confusing sort of ESP that apparently none of these latest screenwriters seems to understand makes the on-screen action all but unintelligible.

There's one thing to be said for The Rise of Skywalker, which is that it moves at (force) lightning speed. It never slows down, never worries that maybe it should take some time to help the audience establish where and why we are, just keeps moving, moving, moving like a magician whose distractions and redirections are both the entertainment and the lie -- if The Rise of Skywalker slowed down for even a moment, audiences might start questioning its own answers.

This is especially true for the movie's biggest revelation, which I won't even hint at here, except to say that it's best not to dwell on it, because it is the shaky foundation upon which the entire trilogy is based, and it's both a letdown and a cheat. When this all-important plot point is explained, it is not a shock, nor is it particularly enlightening or informative. Like all of this "final" trilogy, it simply is, and the ramifications of it are given little consequence.

Meanwhile, The Rise of Skywalker gives top billing not to Ridley but to Carrie Fisher who, of course, died in 2016, so is treated with saintly reverence here. All of her scenes are made up of shots filmed for, but not used in, previous films, so her interactions with other cast members make The Rise of Skywalker feel a little like Steve Martin's Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid, where he generates laughs by interacting with old movies. The shots of Fisher in The Rise of Skywalker have no humor, but feel just as strange and ill-fitting.  All but one or two of Fisher's lines are throwaways, so the film's attempt to make her a leading character seem – sorry for the pun – forced.

To its real credit, The Rise of Skywalker doesn't feel as clumsy or stilted as the first two prequels, but those films had a clear advantage that this film doesn't: They told a cohesive story, one with a clear protagonist and a thematic purpose as Lucas tried, perhaps ineffectively, to chart the rise of evil and the beginnings of a great war.

None of the films of this trilogy had that clear spirit, though in retrospect The Last Jedi tried hard to find that center. But it did not hold. The Rise of Skywalker finishes a story that never really needed to be told, that never figured out its central purpose. As a way to finish a rather meaningless set of films, it does its job. It is never dull, never entirely uninteresting. It is well-produced, mostly well-acted, and will satisfy those fans who have wanted to know the answers to the minor questions these movies have posed.

So, it's the end of this story, at long last. The end of a cycle of films that endlessly coils in on itself, a cinematic Möbius strip that keeps repeating and coming back around to the same place, the same planets of sand and ice and water, the same space battles, the same friendly droids, the same showdowns, the same mystical reverence of the Force, the same John Williams music, the same tunic-clad heroes and hooded villains, the same sense that Star Wars will never, ever end.

And if you're a certain kind of fan, or a certain kind of executive at The Walt Disney Company, that's exactly how you like it.




Viewed December 19, 2019 -- ArcLight Hollywood

2000

"1917"

 ☆☆☆☆ 

As a piece of filmmaking, a technical exercise in visual storytelling, 1917 is a spellbinding, praiseworthy achievement. Director Sam Mendes sets aside the artistic devotion to story and character of his films like American Beauty and Revolutionary Road in favor of full-on Bond-level intensity.

Though its World War I setting and the images of its elegiac poster might make you think this is going to be a melancholy reminiscence of the Great War, 1917 is, in fact, a flat-out action movie, a straightforward beat-the-clock nail biter that literally can't slow down.

The plot is simple: Two British soldiers are given a mission to deliver an urgent message to a regiment that is miles away. Communication lines are down, and there's no other way of letting them know they're heading straight into a German ambush that will spell certain death for 1,600 troops.

Off they go. The soldiers are played by George Mackay and Dean-Charles Chapman, and both are very good in the roles, though they are little more than stock characters. The performers are hardly the point here: 1917 is essentially one long over-the-shoulder video game, with as much depth and as much action as a shoot-em-up. The story pauses occasionally just long enough to offer a little exposition and throw up more hurdles to prevent the men from reaching their goal, all seemingly shot in one very long take and separated into two hourlong segments.  It's intense and suspenseful, if unexpectedly lacking in depth and significance. 

"Jojo Rabbit"

 ☆☆☆½ 

For a movie about a 10-year-old boy who goes to a Nazi youth camp and looks to his imaginary friend Adolf Hitler for advice, the biggest shock from Jojo Rabbit isn't that it's outrageous but that it's so sweet and charming. Instead of satire to stir controversy and inflame passions, writer-director Taika Watiti has made a sweet-natured comedy with some sharp (though carefully padded) edges.

Touching, compelling and often genuinely funny, Jojo Rabbit struggles when its plot turns to the harrowing last days of World War II and the altogether too real ramifications of Jojo's plight: His mother is hiding a Jewish girl, with whom Jojo finds himself falling in pre-pubescent love.

Roman Griffin Davis and Scarlett Johansson play Jojo and his mother, Rosie; their scenes are beautiful, warm and not at all as uncomfortable as the might (or maybe should) be as Rosie's resistance instincts are matched by her need to play the Good German and allow her son to become a Hitler Youth.  The film is filled with talented actors in broadly comic roles, and they all seem to relish Watiti's whimsical, comic approach.

The strangest thing about Jojo Rabbit is how on-kilter it all is, rarely feeling really bold or dangerous, though it's a credit to young Davis, Johansson and Thomasin McKenzie as Elsa, the Jewish girl, that they find a real emotional core amid the zaniness.  Jojo Rabbit might never soar quite as high as it hopes, but it hops along pretty admirably.



Viewed December 15, 2019 -- AMC Sunset 5

1800

"Bombshell"

 ☆☆☆ 

Unfocused and unclear about whether it's a scathing indictment of sexual harassment or a swift satire of Fox News, Bombshell seems rushed to capitalize on a social movement. Despite phenomenal work from its three central performers, particularly Charlize Theron, it can't overcome fits-and-starts pace or casting more akin to an Irwin Allen disaster show from the 1970s.

Everyone who's anyone shows up at least for a moment, so much you'll find yourself whispering, "Wait, is that ... ?" Amid this sea of guest stars, the four most prominent characters are Theron as former Fox News host Megyn Kelly, Nicole Kidman as Gretchen Carlson, Margo Robbie as a fictionalized young up-and-comer, and John Lithgow as sleazeball chairman Roger Ailes.

Carlson is the first to accuse Ailes of shockingly vile sexual behavior, while Kelly faces relentless attacks (including from a certain presidential candidate) that stir conflict in her. The truth is absorbing and disturbing, but for whatever reason it's not enough for director Jay Roach and screenwriter Charles Randolph (did anyone think this story might be better told with female voices?), so they add in Robbie's character, who is unbothered by the revelations until she faces Ailes on her own.

Dramatically, it's both too much and not enough, and just when Bombshell gets good, it lobs in a "cameo" by a Fox News personality to force a laugh. It's off-kilter; both too righteous and not angry enough. Though occasionally terrific, Bombshell turns out to be a bit of a dud.



Viewed Dec. 13, 2019 -- AMC Century City

1815

"Apollo 11"

 ☆☆☆☆½ 

As much as the extraordinary, never-before-seen images from the first mission to the moon, Apollo 11 stuns for the way it conveys a the commitment and dedication it took to get there and back. And it's not just the astronauts, technicians and space-flight managers who were committed.

There, on the IMAX screen, is Johnny Carson, watching Apollo 11 lift off on July 16, 1969.  But there, too, are thousands of men, women and children, transfixed. They are dripping in sweat in the hot Florida sun. They are sitting on top of their cars, trying to catch a quick nap on flimsy blankets, but they wouldn't miss this for anything.

The documentary Apollo 11 was made for CNN Films but is best seen and experienced on the giant IMAX screen, and is back in that format for a week during the height of Oscar season. If you missed it the first time around, don't miss it now, because it is a temporary sort of balm to these angry, distrustful times. Here is a way to travel back into time when everyone had one thing they could get behind. And what a thing it was. Seen in IMAX, Apollo 11 manages to convey the enormity and sheer physicality of it all -- how that 300-foot-tall rocket shot into space and how, four days later, a tiny capsule splashed back down and for one moment everyone was proud.

That's a feeling in short supply these days. For 90 minutes Apollo 11 brings it back.




Viewed Dec. 7, 2019 -- AMC Universal CityWalk

1700

"The Lighthouse"

 ☆☆☆☆ 

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here" is from Dante's Inferno, but it might as well be a line from The Lighthouse, perhaps spoken by Thomas Wake (Willem Dafoe), the bushy-bearded, squinty-eyed salty sailor who's the "wickie" in charge of a remote lighthouse on a tiny rock in the middle of a desolate, angry sea of nothingness.

Wake and young Ephraim Winslow (Robert Pattinson) begin a four-week stint at the lighthouse as the movie begins, and almost immediately we sense we are in weird sort of horror territory, a throwback to the expressionist masters of the silent era, shot in an extreme square aspect ratio of 1.19:1, which heightens the claustrophobia and discomfort.

Even though there's something really weird going on, it takes The Lighthouse a little while to get there as it settles into the rhythms of its hyper-masculine characters and hints at a deep and bizarre fantasy world within. Director Robert Eggers (who wrote the film with Max Eggers) is setting up  bizarre fever dream filled with striking, shocking, horrifying imagery and hints of something ethereal and mythic. After a while, nothing in The Lighthouse can be trusted, even these two people.

This weird, unsettling horror-fantasy is more akin to a Poe short story (allegedly it was loosely inspired by Poe's final writing), and is certainly something to be seen, as are Pattinson and especially Dafoe, who create indelible characters in a film you won't easily forget -- no matter how hard you try. And you will try.



Viewed Dec. 6, 2019 -- DVD