Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

 

A powerful film propelled by the electrifying and charismatic performances of its two leads, Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman, and the whip-smart, crackling and piercing dialogue of August Wilson. Beautifully directed by George C. Wolfe and adapted by Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Ma Rainey's felt simultaneously like the play it was based on and also a cinematic meditation on the themes of Race, Religion and Art.  Davis was transformative and utterly mesmerising as the eponymous Ma Rainey, bringing along with her an indisputable charm, authority, world-weariness, glamour and sexiness. She effortlessly magnetises your gaze and attention whenever she was on the screen although, granted, the bulk of the screen time belonged to Boseman. And Boseman - stolen from us too soon - did not disappoint. He was a possessed soul, invigorating and alluring, commanding the screen as he let loose Wilson's indomitable words. His cockiness, vulnerability, pride, lust, despair and fear were all out there, palpable and relatable. Kudos too to the supporting cast who played the rest of the band members, Glynn Turman, Colman Domingo and Michael Potts. Their chemistry was excellent. But the film truly belonged to Davis and Boseman.

Wolfe direction was wonderful. He aptly translated the play to the screen. Scene changes felt natural and the staging cinematic. Yes, although sometimes it did feel like four guys in a room, but the cast's chemistry and Wolfe's constantly moving camera on one-take made it feel like you were in the room with them. An audience or a fly. Or possibly God? Looking in, a silent observer. Wolfe and cinematographer Tobias A. Schliessler filmed it all with a visceral sensation of the oppressing heat and the undeniable racism that permeated throughout the 1920s. The only misstep was perhaps that epilogue. We all knew the truth, so was it necessary to show it? That kind of diminished the power of the penultimate scene.

Davis was brilliant and a definite shoo-in for a Best Actress nomination. Although she will most likely be handicapped by the fact her Ma Rainey felt almost like a supporting character in a play/film that carried her name. Nonetheless, Davis was powerful. She had a presence and a strength that seeped through just like the sweat that coated Ma's gleaming body. She understood the truth of her power, a Black entertainer in a white world, and by golly she was bloody well going to use it to get everything she deserved. Davis, with just a look and a shift in her shoulders, embodied all that. A finely tuned, nuanced performance that again proved Davis is at the top of her game!

Boseman, on the other hand, had the much showier role and he went all in on it. This was no Black Panther but boy did Boseman slinked about like a panther. This was Boseman's finest performance and outshone everything else he had done. Perhaps his untimely death may have coloured the expectations, but I do not think so. Objectively, Boseman fueled his character with an undeniable live-wire energy that was infectious and passionate. He imbued humanity to a complex character that could have otherwise been two-dimensional and stereotypical. Now, if only we had more scenes of him and Davis locking horns!

Jazz musician Branford Marsalis scored the film and the jazzy blues provided the soul of the film. 

Netflix scored another hit with Ma Rainey. A sure-fire Oscar-nominated film that rivalled the previous Wilson adaptation Fences. Davis and Boseman deserved all the accolades they have, and will be, receiving.

Wonder Woman 1984 (WW84) [IMAX]

 

WW84 was an enjoyable and (mostly) bright distraction albeit one that ran just a tad too long and was also not very well written or structured. You would think that at 151 minutes, director and co-writer Patty Jenkins would have given Diana Prince more layers, but instead the film was mostly filled with unnecessary padding and lazy narrative storytelling that lacked finesse or nuance. Logic be damned! Although granted, the padding did at least made the supporting characters a bit more interesting. Which, unfortunately for Gal Gadot, meant that the trifecta of Chris Pine, Kristen Wigg and a scene-stealing, utterly hammy and campy, Mando...ummm...Pedro Pascal stole the show from Gadot. 

And...do not get me started on the shockingly bad CGI, unexciting action sequences (where are all the hand-to-hand combat? Somebody please ban the lasso of contrivance from any more future appearances. Also, get  Zack Synder away from enforcing his aesthetics into the franchise!), and Hans Zimmer terribly on the nose musical cues (Jenkins got to share the blame on this blatant emotional manipulation, i.e. here is how you should be feeling). 

Most egregiously, just like in the first film, for all their supposedly feminist leanings, Jenkins and Gadot yet again failed to fully embrace and present feminism, resulting in a film, and a superhero, that was clearly catered to the biggest audience group, i.e. the 12 to 50 year old males. Again, Wonder Woman - and Diana Prince - was defined by a man, Steve Trevor, and again he had to be the one that "allowed" her to save the world. Please let it be Jenkin's co-writers' and the studio's fault, but then again, even so, where were hers or Gadot's voice in sounding out against such writing/plotting.

There were some good moments throughout the film. Some genuine moments of real emotion but those were mainly during the smaller and more intimate scenes which Jenkins' excelled in. However, when it came to the action sequences, Jenkins' direction lacked the visceral excitement and palpable adrenaline to drive these scenes. It definitely did not help that the big climatic fight between Wonder Woman and Cheetah was obviously Synder-fied. All dark and shadowy, heavy on the contrast and the CGI. Flashbacks to all those horrendous Man of Steel and Superman v Batman sequences.

The 80s aesthetics was a hoot and even the cinematography reflected that. It was heavily featured in the beginning but was not consistent throughout the film which was a shame. That could have been so much fun. 

The writing itself was also no shining star but it was very likely that the so-so writing was saved by the actors. Wigg nailed her lines and Pascal just absolutely went with all the hamminess that his character deserved. And Pine had great physical comedy and aced his reaction shots. There were some glimmers of humour sprinkled around but nothing that elicited genuine laugh out loud moments. On the other hand, there were a couple of cringeworthy scenes that nobody could really save. 

Gadot remained a great casting choice. She has the poise of Diana Prince and the physicality of an Amazonian. However, her acting has not improved much and it was sadly apparent when her co-stars constantly steal the show from her.

Wigg was a delight from the moment she showed up and her transformation was interesting to observe. Although her final form was a let down - and again I blame Synder. They should have reimagined her away from the original source material. 

Pascal's overacting was what saved his character from being just another villain. He gamely embraced all the campiness and just hammed it up. Even as cliched as his "redemption" was, Pascal still tried his darnest to sell his character.

Pine's character should have stayed dead. Although his revival did make sense and his chemistry with Gadot was still present and at least we got a good time travelling, fish-out-of-the-water acting from Pine.

WW84 was a better film than Tenet to try to reinvigorate the theatre-going experience. It was a good summer (now winter) popcorn blockbuster that did not aim high and so easily delivered the expected results. IMAX as usual was fun to watch but not really necessary. Stay for the mid-credits scene which may or may not be relevant to the inevitable next chapter (will it be staged before of after Justice League?).

First Cow [SGIFF2020]

Kelly Reichardt directed and co-wrote First Cow, a surprisingly entertaining frontier Western based on an unlikely story idea that was simply and effective told. It was a story about friendship and hardship, and about survival and dreams. It never felt as long as its 121 minutes run time suggested as Reichardt's storytelling and pacing was precise, and its two leads, John Magaro and Orion Lee, were captivating. Especially Magaro who turned in a soulful and sensitive performance. Together, all three of them delivered an emotional heartfelt tale chronicling the American Dream. And by golly, that cow is pretty.

Reichardt's film started off by introducing the leads to us and to each other with very little exposition but mostly establishing their character through actions, behaviour and snippets of backstory. Her way of storytelling respects the audience with nary a moment of dumbed down expository rife in contemporary Hollywood blockbusters. As the kids say these day, IYKYK. 

The film ran through a gamut of emotions as it followed the two men as they eked out a living and chased their dreams. We experienced their anxieties and fears, and their hopes and delights. And through it all, Reichardt sprinkled the film with a light dusting of humour just to keep it all from being too bleak and dour. The frontier life was not always the brightest of places to be. 

Magaro, at times looking like Shia Labeouf, was a standout with his portrayal of an atypical frontier man. He was a protagonist that we were rooting for to succeed and hoping that the prologue did not foreshadow his fate. And therein also laid the strength of Reichardt's storytelling whereby she daftly maneuvered - manipulated? - us to consider what that enigmatic prologue could have meant. Furthermore, that fade-to-black ending with no definite resolution may not necessarily be as bleak as it seemed but could also be viewed as hopeful and optimistic.

First Cow was an unexpectedly original film that defied initial expectations. It was superbly directed by a confident storyteller and anchored by two interesting and charismatic leads resulting in a wholly entertaining and captivating adventure. 

Wife of a Spy (スパイの妻) [SGIFF2020]

This was a beautifully shot, slow-burn of a historical/romance crime thriller. Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa (黒沢 清) took his time to get into the story proper, using most of the first act to set the scene - gorgeous period setting showcasing Japan in the 40s - and establishing the main characters. Lead actors Yu Aoi (蒼井 優) and Issey Takahashi (高橋 一生) held court throughout the near-two hours stretch, especially with the former who had the most complete and tumultuous character arc. It is not common to see a Japanese film that openly criticised Japan's role during World War II and Kurosawa had done it so effortlessly while also daftly saving both an espionage thriller and love-triangle subplots. 

The plot really kicked into gear at the second act and surprisingly gave a left turn at the third act that led to an enigmatic and emotionally poignant denouement. Although the end credits did suggest this was a true story, but we cannot seem to be sure. 

Like a lot of Japanese dramas, the acting can be rather overly-dramatic at times. However, in this case, Kurosawa seemed to have found a great balance of Hitchcockian suspense with a Lynchian mystery and therefore, Aoi's reactions never really seemed out of place. Although the same cannot be said for the other supporting characters. 

Aoi was amazing to watch. Her transformations through the film from dutiful wife, childish compatriot, indignant lover, amateur sleuth, duplicitous femme fatale, spurned partner, fragile patient and criminal mastermind was a delight to observe. In the end, Kurosawa and Aoi presented an enigmatic and ambiguous epilogue that allowed for multiple possible interpretations.

A Silver Lion winner at the 77th Berlin International Film Festival, A Wife of a Spy was a beautiful period drama that paid dividends for its patient audience. 

The Truffle Hunters [SGIFF2020]

 A quaint and charming little Italian documentary that was beautifully shot and languidly presented as we followed the lives of these mostly eccentric, sometimes curmudgeon, Italian old men as they waxed - and sang - lyrically or sometimes frustratingly about their livelihood and passion of being a tartufaio. But most importantly, also about their dogs. Which then begged the question, who or what are the titular truffle hunters - the men or the dogs? Or is it the consumer?

There was some education within the documentary on the shady business of truffle-trading but it was rudimentary and obviously not within the primary scope of the film makers. It will help to set the background for those who came into the film with nary an idea of what the heck is the deal with truffles. It also gave the audience a pseudo-villain, a cad really, in the main truffle dealer, to root against. Thereby giving this otherwise immersive documentary a sort of narrative structure which may be easier to follow/accept.  

However, for those already attuned to the illicit economy behind that white gold, then the real gem of the storytelling is the glimpse into the lives of the truffle hunters. Unfortunately, therein also laid the main critique of this docu. We only get a glimpse into the current lives of these fascinating men with occasional reflections to the past. But what we did not get is an insight into their lives, histories, impetus and drive. 

Visually, this film was beautiful. A lot of stunning wide-angled landscapes through the seasons interspersed with elegantly composed shots that often suggested playfulness and intimacy, or hinted at dodgy shadiness. There was also a fantastic use of a "dog cam" - a GoPro? - that provided one of the best visual sequences so apt for this film. 

The Truffle Hunters was an enjoyable and utterly charming film. You will be fascinated by these men and grown attached to their dogs by the end of  its 84 minutes. Kudos to the film makers who managed to get these men to be so open and inviting. What an invaluable opportunity to be allowed into these men's lives. Meanwhile, you may also learn a thing or two about truffles. 

Ammonite [SGIFF 2020]

 

Francis Lee's follow-up to his underrated gem God's Own Country was not exactly a sophomore slump, but where the latter had humour,  passion and "wore its heart on its sleeve",  Ammonite was cold, frigid and devoid of much levity. There were moments of tenderness and one scene of genuine warmth and love, but it was too little and too brief to ignite the flames - or even the loins. The crux was the lack of chemistry between its two leads, Kate Winslet and Saoirse Ronan. It was difficult to envisage them as lovers. 

Winslet was great, as usual, giving much weight and meaning to each glance, pinched lips and drag of her cigarette (she really ought to be in a Wong Kar Wai film), and that was extremely useful in Lee's sparse script. Her character was sort of an enigma but not difficult to relate to. An introverted yet sensitive person who dislikes social engagements and outward expressions of emotions, but is deeply passionate and empathetic.  Such characters would be described as stoic or reserved if they were a man, but as a woman, she would be termed frigid or cold or emotionless. And that was the brilliance of Lee and Winslet's creation. But I am not sure how many people will really see it as that. Winslet portrayed her with layers of complexity and she was fascinating to watch and follow.

Ronan, on the other hand, was given less to do, and we know she is capable of doing so much more! But unfortunately, those four Oscar nominations did not translate to her being convincingly enthralled - or besotted - with Winslet. Her character lacked dimensions and she seemed to exist only to drive the plot the forward rather than as a co-lead in a romance drama. Perhaps, this film may have worked better had another actress been cast as Ronan's character and Lee given her more of agency than just a young neglected wife who suffered a personal tragedy. 

There were also other problems other than the casting. Mainly, Lee's screenplay. This was a lot clunkier than God's Own Country and the paucity of dialogue did not disguise the many cringe-worthy lines spilling out of the characters' lips. The best bits actually seemed to be Winslet's improv-ed utterances. Surely not all serious period pieces need to be so muted and so glum. Thankfully, Winslet was able to translate and transcend those silences with a crinkling of her eyes or a slight twinge of the corners of her lips. 

And we also have the directing. By gosh, Lee really lacked subtlety here what with all the heavy handed foreshadowing and dramatic ironies. One could appreciate the cold dreariness of the Dorset coast without having to be constantly enveloped and suffocated by it? And surely, there must be warm blood flowing through Winslet's stone-cold heart. 

That being said, the cinematography by Stephane Fontaine - for all the directorial choices - was beautiful. Music was sparse, and although beautiful was used mainly to hammer in the emotional beats which felt manipulative. The costuming were gorgeous, but Ronan's wig less so. 

Lastly, we have to talk about that epilogue. That was too long. It could have ended just before that and it would have been great. 

(Mild Spoilers Ahead) Throughout the film, Lee had not hinted that the lovers could have had any chance beyond the plotted inevitability, and also, their lack of chemistry did not encourage the audience to actively root for them. Therefore, it could have ended just right before the epilogue and it would have been fitting. (End Spoilers)

But instead, we had to deal with an addition ten to fifteen minutes and three or four unnecessary scenes before the film actually ended. Although thankfully, the proper ending itself was a highlight of the film. That vague ambiguity ignited more passion than all the much-touted sex scenes. It also showed that those aforementioned unnecessary epilogue scenes were clearly there so that the characters, and the director, could S-P-E-L-L out exactly what they were supposed to be thinking/feeling. That felt like a studio note rather than an auteur choice.

Ammonite was a good film. It just was not a great film. It was enjoyable and Winslet was mesmerising. She might even get an Oscar nomination given how the year is going. However, it felt as cold as it looked and Lee could really have injected more warmth into it. Not all "serious" shows have to be brooding.

The Trial of the Chicago 7 [Netflix]

 The Trial of the Chicago 7 was, without a doubt, an Aaron Sorkin production. From its unabashed democratic and liberal-leaning politicking, its mile-a-minute monologues and abundant witticisms, to its social topicality and relevance, Sorkin used his platform to highlight a true story set in the 60s that - - unfortunately - still resonates now almost 50 years later. A painful reminder that despite half-a-century of time, not much in the world has changed. 

Sorkin had assembled a top notched cast but the ones who really stole the show were: Sacha Baron Cohen, Mark Rylance, Jeremy Strong and the fantastic Frank Langella. The others definitely held their own but these four really sold their characters and gave life to Sorkin's writing, and are a shoo-in, hopefully, for some Oscar acting noms. 

Sorkin as a director was unexciting. Although he would be the best person to understand all the beats of his own writing and the unconventional narrative structure did help to keep the audience, especially those who are unaware of this story, on their feet. Of course, undeniably, poetic license and dramatisation has to occur in any fictional retelling of a true story, but at least in this case, Sorkin did not appear to have done anything too far-fetched or histrionic. Well, maybe except inserting Eddie Redmayne's Tom Hayden into one too many scenes.

Redmayne and Cohen were undoubtedly the lead actors in this film, but other than both their confusing and inconsistent attempts at maintaining their American accent, Cohen definitely outshone Redmayne. Cohen daftly embodied Abbie Hoffman and Sorkin did seem to have more fun writing for his character, allowing Cohen/Hoffman to sometimes take on the role of a narrator which he did with aplomb. 

Redmayne, on the other hand, was suitably cast as the student president of the SDS. He consistently exuded a Newt Scamander-esque vibe with his schoolboy charm and scarves, but his Hayden was written too flatly and uninteresting to effectively put those charms too good use. And even a third act boost failed to make Redmayne/Hayden any more urgent or active.

Rylance was phenomenal. His every action and body language conveyed layers and so much more than Sorkin's words, which in itself would be a challenge to most actors. He was paired mostly with Ben Shankman and the two played well with and against each other.

However, the most interesting actor was Langella. What a villainous character his Judge Hoffman (no relation with Abbie Hoffman...hah!) was. Langella was a villain everybody loved to hate and he was delectable. Langella was a masterclass in using his eyes and words to terrorise and belittle. Horrifying!

Strong was believable as a stoner and he got some of the best one-liners. Well, he and Noah Robbins and Daniel Flaherty.

Other big names included Joseph Gordon-Levitt (miscast in a role that seemed to require more gravitas and ability to manifest personal and professional conflict), Yahya Abdul-Mateen II (great presence with one fantastic scene that screamed nomination reel!) and Michael Keaton (always welcomed and did his scenes justice). The rest of the cast, in roles big and small, were all suitably cast.

Given the storyline, it was not surprising that the film lacked female and LGBTQ representation. 

The music was by Daniel Pemberton, and like Sorkin's direction, was unexciting. It was rousing when it needed to be and subdued at times of contemplation. However, the collaboration with Celeste for "Hear My Voice" over the closing credits was great, and has a real shot of a Best Original Song nomination. 

Cinematography was by Phedon Papamichael and there were some beautiful shots, especially the last court scene. 

Speaking of which, that final scene was, kudos to Sorkin, a befitting, rousing, and heroic choice to end the story. 

This film, in this limited Oscar race, will likely get a nomination for Best Original Screenplay and hopefully some acting nominations. A pity we did not get a chance to watch it on the big screen.