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Reviews
August '16 Digital Week III
- Details
- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Wednesday, 17 August 2016 16:10
- Written by Kevin Filipski
Blu-rays of the Week
Cat on a Hot Tin Roof
(Warner Archive)
Tennessee Williams’ once-daring Pulitzer Prize-winning play about desperate Maggie the Cat and her uninterested husband Brick was made into a moderately faithful film in 1958 by Richard Brooks, who directs Elizabeth Taylor’s luminous Maggie and Paul Newman’s believable Brick; best, however, is Burl Ives as a gloriously over-the-top Big Daddy: Ives is a scene-stealer of the first order.
Warner Archive’s hi-def transfer is first-rate; extras are a commentary by Williams biographer Donald Spoto and 10-minute featurette narrated by Ashley Judd, a luscious Maggie on Broadway in 2003.
Raiders!
(Drafthouse/MVD)
The story of a group of teenagers who made a shot-for-shot remake of Raiders of the Lost Ark over seven summers starting in 1981 is recounted in this engaging documentary by directors Tim Skousen and Jeremy Coon, who also follow the now-adult filmmakers for one last hurrah: to finish the final shot of their film, a difficult action sequence that was a highlight of Spielberg’s original.
Interviews with those involved—along with admiring fans like Eli Roth and John Rhys Davies—and glimpses of the amateur movie itself (and on-set glimpses at the final shoot) make this a must for movie buffs of all stripes, showing that movies make adults into kids again. The film looks good on Blu; extras include commentaries, deleted scenes, outtakes from the Raiders remake and Q&A from 2003 remake premiere.
Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon
The Pride and the Passion
(Olive Films)
Otto Preminger and Stanley Kramer, two of Hollywood’s most famous directors, made more negligible than good films. Preminger’s Junie Moon (1969) is a weirdly engrossing study of a misfit trio—acid burn victim (Liza Minnelli), shy epileptic (Ken Howard) and wheelchair-bound homosexual (Robert Moore)—trying to find friendship and love when they set up house together.
The principals are quite good, and if Preminger can’t quite make us empathize with them, there’s enough of a real-life spark to make this a fairly successful comic drama. Conversely, Passion might be the superficial Stanley Kramer’s worst film, a bloated and empty 1957 epic set during the Napoleonic wars with a pell-mell ensemble of miscast stars: Cary Grant, Sophia Loren and Frank Sinatra, whose Spanish accent must be heard to be disbelieved. Olive’s fine hi-def transfers are appropriately grainy.
(Warner Bros)
With actress Nina Dobrev—the most compelling reason to watch this diverting series about young and attractive bloodsuckers in small-town America—gone, Diaries had to basically reboot itself for another season.
The resulting 22 episodes are a decent attempt to do so, with more in the way of starring roles for actresses Kat Graham and Candice King while still showing off actors Paul Wesley and Ian Somerhalder. The series looks excellent on Blu; extras comprise deleted scenes, gag reel, Georgia PSA, directors’ interview and 2-15 Comic-Con Panel.
DVDs of the Week
The Affair—Complete 2nd Season
(Showtime)
I was quickly turned off by the first season of The Affair which, despite estimable acting by the two central couples—played by Dominic West, Maura Tierney, Joshua Jackson and Ruth Wilson—was fatally damaged by co-creator-writer (and erstwhile playwright) Sarah Treem’s tendency to overload her characters’ dialogue and relationships with triteness and heavy-handedness.
The second season doesn’t follow suit, and is all the better for it: the characters are far more interesting now than they were then. Extras comprise featurettes and bonus disc with two episodes of Showtime’s series Billions.
(Sundance Selects)
Polish director Jerzy Skolimowski continues his unimpressive filmmaking—after the equally forgettable Four Nights with Anna and Essential Killing—with this pretentious and dull narrative of 11 minutes in the lives of several characters, culminating with one of the most ludicrous finishes I’ve seen in any movie.
At least—for some—there’s the loveliness of actress Paulina Chapko, but for most others, there will be a big “huh?” followed by a shrug…except, that is, for those who continue pretending that Skolimowski (who made the far superiorMoonlighting in 1982) remains a major artist.
Exhibition Onscreen: Goya—Visions of Flesh and Blood
Renoir—Revered and Reviled
(Seventh Art)
Based on London’s National Gallery exhibit of Francisco Goya’s portraits, Goya—Visions is an intermittently intriguing overview of the Spanish master’s life and art; the talking heads and several masterpieces in close-up are far more fascinating than the flat-footed documentary re-creations of him at work.
Far richer is Renoir—Revered, which concentrates on French impressionist Pierre-Auguste Renoir’s last two decades of work, based on Philadelphia’s Barnes Foundation’s huge Renoir collection. Interviews with experts (notably the Barnes’ Martha Lucy) are illuminating, as are glimpses of several of his most expressive later paintings.
(IFC)
Diane Kruger gives a gutsy, no-holds-barred performance as an abused French housewife who—after thinking she’s killed her no-good drunk hubby while on vacation near Death Valley—goes off to Vegas, inadvertently beginning a new relationship with a reluctant American loner.
Co-writer-director Fabienne Berthaud can’t get a handle on her tone or her characters’ relationships, but with Kruger at the top of her game, it doesn’t matter. This flawed film showcases a flawless performance, along with exceptional support by Gilles Lellouche, Q’Orianka Kilcher and Norman Reedus.
Theater Review—“Troilus and Cressida” in Central Park
- Details
- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Friday, 12 August 2016 23:22
- Written by Kevin Filipski
Troilus and Cressida
Written by William Shakespeare; directed by Daniel Sullivan
Performances through August 14, 2016
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| Andrew Burnap, John Glover and Ismenia Mendes in Troilus and Cressida (photo: Joan Marcus) |
One of the most complex plays in the entire canon, Troilus and Cressida is problematic to stage for many reasons: the language is among Shakespeare’s most dense and knotty; the plotlines swing violently to and fro among romance and farce, tragedy and wartime action; and there’s not one character who is in the least sympathetic. (It’s not surprising that it was probably never performed during Shakespeare’s lifetime, and rarely done since.)
What keeps Troilus relevant is its relentless sarcasm, which gives it a startlingly modern approach. Set during the Trojan War, the Greeks continue to lay siege to the city of Troy in retaliation for Trojan Prince Paris stealing Greek king Menelaus’ beautiful wife Helen. In Troy, King Priam’s son Troilus and young Cressida fall in love—thanks in part to the wily involvement of the degenerate old Pandarus—but she is soon sent to the Greeks as part of a hostage exchange.
Shakespeare constantly reexamines his characters, which comprise heroes, cowards and everybody in between: prominently sandwiched among warriors Hector, Ajax and Achilles (the latter, sick of fighting, prefers to stay in his tent with close friend Patroclus) is the snide and condescending Thersites, whose caustic zingers are a running commentary on the lunacies of love and war we are witnessing.
Daniel Sullivan directs this summer’s Central Park Troilus as a modern-dress, military-fatigues production, which director Mark Wing-Davey did with his ill-advised Delacorte Theater staging in 1995, the last time it was performed in New York. Parallels between the seven-year siege of Troy and our own endless wars are obvious and don’t spelling out, but Sullivan doesn’t trust audiences to make their own connections, so he clutters the stage with needless gadgetry and heavy-handed “ideas.”
So the play opens with Pandarus—played by John Glover with gleeful disgust, supplemented by a pronounced limp that physicalizes his “diseases” mentioned at play’s end—speaking the opening soliloquy into a microphone while carrying around a tape recorder. Later, there are cell phones and video cameras, a slide show presented by Ulysses (a curiously distant Corey Stoll), Hector retching after killing an adversary in battle, and most ridiculously, machine guns for the climactic battle scene, which loses any sense of the poetic weight that Shakespeare provides by forcing men to lay down those guns and pull out knives to finish one another off. So why use such supposedly lethal weaponry in the first place?
Admittedly, the play is notoriously difficult to stage, especially on a unit set like the Delacorte’s: the play’s 24 scenes lurch from besieged Troy to a Greek encampment to a battlefield. But David Zinn’s industrial-looking set is too rigid to cope with copious scene changes and his costumes are standard-issue fatigues and gym outfits, with a glaring exception: Ulysses wears impeccably tailored suits. Robert Wierzel’s artful lighting and Mark Menard’s bludgeoning sound design are closer to the mark.
It’s ironic that the play is titled Troilus and Cressida, since the couple is barely onstage together. At least Sullivan has two fine young actors in the eponymous roles: Andrew Burnap makes an ingratiating Troilus, and Ismenia Mendes—a wonderful Hero in a 2014 Delacorte Much Ado About Nothing—belies her youth and relative Shakespearean inexperience to give a piercingly truthful portrayal of one of the Bard’s most complicated young women.
Too bad the rest of the cast is all over the map: John Douglas Thompson has little of his usual zest as Agamemnon, Louis Cancelmi’s Achilles is far too shrill (although that’s partly excused by the fact that Cancelmi replaced an injured David Harbour shortly before opening), and Alex Breaux’s brainless Ajax and Tom Pecinka’s ostentatious Patroclus are even more frivolous than Central Park audiences usually get.
At least there’s Bill Heck’s dignified Hector and Max Casella’s acidly funny Thersites; but Sullivan’s directorial hodgepodge makes a mess of Shakespeare’s psychologically acute study of love and death.
Troilus and Cressida
Delacorte Theater, Central Park, New York, NY
shakespeareinthepark.org
August '16 Digital Week II
- Details
- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Wednesday, 10 August 2016 12:36
- Written by Kevin Filipski
Blu-rays of the Week
Female Prisoner Scorpion—The Complete Collection
(Arrow)
These four cult films following the travails of Scorpion, who after her time in prison vows to get back at the powerful man who sent her to prison (Female Prisoner #701: Scorpion; Female Prisoner Scorpion: Jailhouse 41; Beast Stable; #701’s Grudge Song), were made in a flash in 1972-73, and if that shows in the slightness of the story and characters, there’s so much action and gleeful stylistic flourishes that this set is nothing less than trashy, frenzied fun—not least with the stunning Meiko Kaji in the title role.
It’s too bad, however, that the new hi-def transfers are problematic, with some of the colors off, occasionally muting some of the visual excitement. Plentiful extras include interviews new and old, visual essays, appreciations and a lavish booklet.
(Starz/Anchor Bay)
The original Girlfriend Experience,which failed to make a mainstream star of porn veteran Sasha Gray in 2009, was one of director Steven Soderbergh’s most disposable works, and that same feeling permeates this inert 13-episode mini-series.
Although Riley Keough is far more plausible as a student who becomes an upscale escort for often-loathsome older men, creators Lodge Kerrigan and Amy Seimetz never really do much original or interesting with the material, which promises insight and titillation but provides too little of both. The hi-def transfer is first-rate; extras comprise three on-set featurettes.
The Tunnel—Complete 1stSeason
(PBS)
This 2013 French-British remake of the original 2011 Danish-Swedish series The Bridge (which is currently shooting its fourth and last season) is more credible and absorbing than the 2013 American-Mexican dud, also named The Bridge.
Stephen Dillane and Clemence Poesy are superbly mismatched—then later, equally well-matched—as British and French detectives who pair up to solve a series of increasingly bizarre and lurid crimes. The 10 intelligently constructed episodes build to a creepy climax. The series looks sumptuous on Blu, and extras are interviews and behind-the-scenes featurettes.
Careful What You Wish For
(Anchor Bay)
In this tepid knockoff of Body Heat, a sleepwalking Nick Jonas plays a young man who has an affair with the impossibly gorgeous young wife of the older rich businessman who takes the vacation home next door to his family.
That she is played by the impossibly gorgeous Isabel Lucas is one of several hard-to-believe twists, with my favorite (aside from the twist ending) the quickie the couple has behind the local convenience store just as hubby walks up to the back door to have himself a smoke—but ends up deciding not to.
Dark Diamond
(First Run)
In Arthur Harari’s twisty and elegantly-shot thriller, a young man decides to avenge his father’s death on the rest of his wealthy, diamond-dealing family by infiltrating the business and plotting the perfect heist.
Although Harari doesn’t bother with a subtle approach in this convolutedly plotted thriller, he smartly shows the intricacies of the diamond business just enough to prepare us for the ramifications—personal and moral—when his protagonist’s imaginative revenge slowly but inexorably takes shape.
(First Run)
In directors-writers Arthur DeLaire and Quentin Reynaud’s meandering road-trip comedy, an occasionally amusing but most often exasperating dysfunctional family travels to attend the mother’s estranged father’s funeral.
Although there are nicely understated performances by Isabelle Carre and Stephane de Groodt as the matriarch and patriarch of a brood of mix-and-match stepchildren, after 80 minutes of forced melodramatic whimsy, the whole thing completely dissolves from memory.
Broadway Review: "Cats" Returns
- Details
- Parent Category: Film and the Arts
- Category: Reviews
- Published on Wednesday, 10 August 2016 01:32
- Written by Kevin Filipski
Cats
Music & lyrics by Andrew Lloyd Webber; directed by Trevor Nunn
Opened July 30, 2016
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| The cast of Cats (photo: Matthew Murphy) |
Sure, it’s cheesy and dated, but something about Cats keeps it from becoming wincingly awful: whether it’s the large, lively cast of human felines; the eye-catching direction of Trevor Nunn; the clever, even witty, sets and costumes by John Napier; Natasha Katz’s luminous lighting; or the famous score by Andrew Lloyd Webber, who already had Jesus Christ Superstar and Evita under his belt when Cats premiered in 1982 (and still had The Phantom of the Opera in his future).
It’s partially all of those, but it’s mainly what happens at the end of the first act. After an hour of synthesizer-pulsating songs (even the catchiest, like the opener “Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats,” are afflicted with the disease) that sound like bizarre Emerson, Lake and Palmer outtakes, suddenly a sumptuous melody wells up and Grizabella sings “Memory,” one of the greatest Broadway ballads and one of those instantly memorable tunes that Webber had to hand: at least in his early musicals.
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| Leona Lewis (photo: Matthew Murphy) |
Like “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” from Superstar and “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” from Evita, “Memory” bowls over the rest of the score and show, something which even Webber realizes: in Act II, we not only get two reprises but also variations on and hints of that hummable melody throughout. Webber, knowing he’s written his own “Yesterday,” unapologetically milks it for all it’s worth. British pop star Leona Lewis sings the hell out of it during its final incarnation at the end of the show, but the rest of her performance is stiff and wooden, which says more about her stage inexperience than about Grizabella’s aloofness.
Best of the rest of a harmonious cast are Quentin Earl Darrington’s dignified Old Deuteronomy, Eloise Kropps’ agily tap-dancing Jennyanydots and Ricky Ubeda’s astoundingly athletic Mr. Mistoffelees. It’s too bad that choreographer Andy Blankenbuehler merely spiffs up Gillian Lynne’s original choreography, which survives in the cast’s cat-like poses and movements. Why bring such an inventive—and award-winning—choreographer on board only to handcuff him?
That ultimately is the curse of this new Cats: despite Trevor Nunn’s protestations to the contrary, this is old fur in new bottles, and however entertaining, there was a missed chance to make it resonate for a new generation of theatergoers, not simply traffic in nostalgia for the older ones.
Cats
Neil Simon Theatre, 250 West 52nd Street, New York, NY
catsthemusical.com
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