Movie review: Anora

not Pretty Woman

I went to see the new movie Anora, largely because it had been so widely acclaimed.  Sean Baker won the Palme d’Or, awarded to the director of the Best Feature Film at the Cannes Film Festival; he also wrote the story. The film was nominated for several other awards. I saw it at the Spectrum Theatre in Albany, one of only two people present on an early Wednesday matinee.

Fandango describes it as “an audacious, thrilling, and comedic variation on a modern-day Cinderella story.”  Ani (Mikey Madison) is a young sex worker from Brooklyn who is good at her job.  One of her clients is a young, brash, fairly obnoxious, but very rich young man of Russian heritage named Ivan or  Vanya (Mark Eydelshteyn), who specifically asked for an escort who at least understood Russian. Anora’s grandmother had never learned how to speak English.

They are having a good time, in a wretched excess way, with him shelling out beaucoup bucks for her exclusive company, and in short order, they decide to get married. This is a problem for Vanya’s handlers when they find out. They worked for his parents and were supposed to keep him on a loose leash.  Now, the marriage must annulled, which is complicated.

Evolution

The early part of the film was a bit boring to me. There’s a lot of sex, not just with Ani, and it’s very unsexy. 

The film finally starts getting interesting when two of Vanya’s handlers rush to the lavish home where he and Ani are staying. These guys are intimidating but not lethally scary. Still, they and their immediate boss are determined to get their way and have the means to grease the legal machinery. At this point, I see Ani’s strength and vulnerability come through. And the film becomes a black comedy.

So I liked the latter half of it, although, as some critics pointed out, “Anora’s outbursts of fury, incessant trash talking, and relentless screaming can wear on the ear.” The Rotten Tomatoes reviews were 96% positive with the critics and 90% with the fans. 

I’m reminded that when the movie Pretty Woman was being made, it started as a “gritty dark comedy about the dehumanizing nature of sex work,” much darker than the frothy tale that Garry Marshall engineered with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere’s characters. This is NOT Pretty Woman. 

Movie review: Conclave

the opposite of faith

The pope is dead. Cardinal Lawrence (Ralph Fiennes), as Dean of the College of Cardinals, is tasked with organizing the conclave to select a new pontiff. That’s the premise of the movie.

The candidates emerge. Cardinal Bellini (Stanley Tucci) is a liberal favorite, while Cardinal Tedesco (Sergio Castellito) is a conservative alternative. Could Cardinal Trembley (John Lithgow) emerge as a compromise? And there’s never been an African pope—how about Cardinal Adeyemi ( Lucian Msamati)? And there are others.

A potential scandal or two colors the proceedings. On the face of it, this should be a boring, stuffy process based on issues that people not steeped in Catholicism would not care about. Nope, it is not. The wardrobe and set look realistic, and the cinematography is lovely. “Costume Designer Lisy Christl on Why the Cardinals’ Crosses Were an Important Character Detail.”

The acting—including by Isabella Rosellini as Sister Agnes—is wonderful. The nuns may be invisible, but they do see. Even cardinals struggle with the notion of their calling. One of the resonating quotes is that “the opposite of faith is not doubt; the opposite of faith is certainty.”  What are the perils of ambition?

A review I saw notes that Conclave is “among other things, an actual thriller, of character rather than jeopardy.” Well, maybe a little bit of jeopardy. It was surprisingly riveting.

Smoky back rooms

It reminded me somewhat of political conventions, not the ones we have more recently where the outcomes are preordained, but the old-fashioned smoky back rooms, where there was horse trading for votes amongst the delegates. The favorite sons from a given state held their delegates in abeyance for some trade-off.

I saw Conclave at the Spectrum Theatre in Albany on a Thursday afternoon. The room was about 1/3 full, which is not bad for that time of day. The reviews on Rotten Tomatoes were 91% positive with the critics and 85% positive with the audiences.

One of the negative reviews was from Hosea Rupprecht from Pauline Media Studies, who wrote: “From the perspective of the Catholic Church, Conclave offends by taking this sacred ritual which is supposed to inspire faith, humility, and trust in the providence of God, and turns it into a disturbing commentary on human weakness and ambition.”

I’m not feeling it. As a Protestant kid who’s had an utter fascination with the papacy from childhood, I think it reflects what people of faith have told me over the many decades about internal struggle.  Others complain about the “final twist that is, arguably, one twist too far.”It’s a fictional story, but the conclusion seems internally consistent.

I highly recommend it.

Movie: The Big Parade (1925)

World War I film

In the past decade, I’ve become very interested in films about World War I. Cole Haddon, on his Substack page, declares that “‘The Big Parade’ is one of the first great anti-war films in cinema, but also a perfect demonstration of what he calls ‘narrative mirroring’ in storytelling.”

The movie was directed by King Vidor in 1925. It’s, of course, a silent film and is black and white. It starts in many ways, like other WWI films I’ve watched, such as the 2018 Peter Jackson documentary They Shall Not Grow Old and the 2022 remake of All Quiet On The Western Front, showing a certain glorification of war. This is the Good Fight. Isn’t it going to be wonderful? Once you get down to the brass tacks—not until the last 60 minutes of this 2.5-hour film—does the fighting become the brutalizing event that war is.

Some of the earlier scenes with Jim (John Gilbert), his army buddies Bull (Tom O’Brien), and the expert spitter Slim (Karl Dane) are on the verge of slapstick. There’s a bit of romance involving Jim’s fiancee, Justyn (Claire Adams), and a young French woman Melisande (Renée Adorée). 

Big hit

Haddon writes that The Big Parade, a title with multiple meanings, was “MGM’s biggest moneymaker until Gone with the Wind was released in 1939. The reason I think it’s worth your time to consider what I have to say about it is twofold: 1) the film has been beautifully restored and is available to watch for free on YouTube (link)  and, more importantly, 2) the structure Vidor and his team of writers used.”

He notes: “Narrative mirroring involves repeating a story beat in a different context, an act of juxtaposition with the first that produces a new, deeper meaning…This repeated beat also tends to imbue similarly new, deeper meaning in the original story beat if/when the viewer returns to it. This happens consistently throughout The Big Parade.”

My fascination with WWI films is because, like most people, I understand World War I far less than the American Civil War or World War II.

Today is 11/11, the anniversary of the “war to end all wars,” which it didn’t.

Movie review: The Wild Robot

say important things

Based on good word-of-mouth, I attended a Tuesday afternoon matinee showing of the animated film The Wild Robot at the Spectrum Theatre in Albany.

I didn’t know it was based on a children’s book until I saw the movie. The story begins with robots that are shipwrecked on the shore. One robot is stymied by the fact that our heroine has no people to serve.

(Hmm. Can robots HAVE gender? This and many other questions are addressed in author Peter Brown’s reflections on the writing of this book.)

Initially, Roz (voiced by  Lupita Nyong’o) confounds or terrifies the wildlife she sees. When she figures out the language of the woodland creatures, she, to her surprise, is not welcome. She inadvertently ends up parenting an orphaned baby goose, Brightbill (Kit Connor), assisted by a conflicted fox, Fink (Pedro Pascal).

I loved this movie. First, the DreamWorks film looks marvelous. But more importantly, it has a compelling storyline about making one’s way in a strange land. Some have compared it favorably with the movies E.T., the Iron Giant, and WALL-E, and I suppose there are hints of those.

“stunning visual feast but also a moving meditation”

However, I found it more reflective and deep about the complexities of life, yet it is still accessible to children. Several reviews (97% positive on Rotten Tomatoes) glommed onto the complexities of being a parent. Yet, at times, it was hysterically LOL funny.

Leonard Maltin wrote: “The Wild Robot is a genuinely beautiful movie, in every sense of that adjective. Its physical production is impressive, to say the least, but there are no weak links in its chain, from character design to its exquisitely rendered environment.”  Other critics used terms such as “unexpected emotional rollercoaster, “and “a moving meditation on life, friendship, and survival in an unforgiving environment,”

Some reviewers were even more taken by it. Courtney Lanning of Arkansas Public Radio wrote: “Everyone who watches ‘The Wild Robot’ can come away connecting with something, whether it’s an urge to help others, even if they’ve hurt you in the past, or learning to say important things to loved ones because you never know when it’ll be too late.” Hmm. She’s not wrong.

Right before the film, I attended a book review of The Eye of the Master: A Social History of Artificial Intelligence by Matteo Pasquinelli, reviewed by Lex Bhagat, former Executive Director of FFAPL, and currently a business librarian at NY SBDC, where I used to work. Two days later, I saw an episode of Law & Order: The founder of an AI-infused dating app is murdered. These got me thinking again about the nature of technology and how “real” Roz was. No answers, just musings.

Book review: The Undertow

Ashli

Jeff Sharlet is an explorer. The Dartmouth professor shows sides of the United States that most of us don’t fully understand in his 2023 book The Undertow: Scenes from a Slow Civil War, one of The New York Times 100 Books of the Year.  I picked up the book at the Telling The Truth 2023: THE STRUGGLE FOR AMERICA’S FUTURE event sponsored by The New York State Writers Institute on Friday, November 17, 2023, at Page Hall on the Downtown UAlbany campus.
He was paired with Juliet Hooker, a noted political scientist, who had a then-brand new book Black Grief/White Grievance: The Politics of Loss, in a discussion of The American Backlash: “A conversation about the politics of revenge, and the impulse to punish ‘out groups’ who have made political gains — particularly racial, sexual, and cultural minorities, and women. ” Jeff’s book was about that, of a sort, but it didn’t mesh with the moderator’s questions.

 Jeff delves into the religious dimensions of American politics as he did in The Family: The Secret Fundamentalism at the Heart of American Power, the 2009 book that inspired the Netflix documentary series. He does so by talking to people whom most reporters do not speak to, sometimes in perilous situations.
Asking the questions
As the Amazon review notes:   “Jeff Sharlet journeys into corners of our national psyche where others fear to tread. The Undertow is both inquiry and meditation, an attempt to understand how, over the last decade, reaction has morphed into delusion, social division into distrust, distrust into paranoia, and hatred into fantasies―sometimes realities―of violence.”
The book is a series of essays, and the first chapter, Voice and Hammer,  threw me off a bit. He wrote about Harry Belafonte and his participation in the American Civil Rights struggle. Belafonte told Jeff the tale of getting cash for the movement in the South involving a car chase. I heard Donald Hyman tell the same story when he reviewed Belafonte’s 2012 autobiography My Song for the Friends and Foundation of the Albany Public Library on November 7, 2023.
The second chapter, On The Side Of Possibilities, describes his time embedded in Occupy Wall Street encampments. I understand that he “remembers and celebrates the courage of those who sing a different song of community and an America long dreamt of and yet to be fully born, dedicated to justice and freedom for all.”
djt

But the next section of the book, in the Heavy With Gold chapter, starts with seeing the 45th president land in his large plane and one or more of his devotees hoping to punch a protester in the face. And little wonder, given the gory, painted as patriotic ramblings of djt.

In the chapter Ministry of Fun, men, presumably “of God,” glorify materialism, attracting Kanye West, Kardashians, and pro athletes with a theology mostly devoid of a Matthew 25 directive to feed the hungry and clothe the naked. Instead, “lies, greed, and glorification of war boom through microphones at hipster megachurches that once upon a time might have preached peace and understanding.”

In Whole Bottle of Red Pills, there is “a conference for lonely single men [who] come together to rage against women.” From incels (involuntary celibate) to Paul Elam’s A Voice for Men, the manosphere loathes “women ‘leaning in,’ women in combat, women who have the gall to think that they too can be funny, or president.”

MRA, Men’s Right Advocate, is a “gluttony of the soul, while citing Scripture and preparing for civil war―a firestorm they long for as an absolution and exaltation.  Political rallies are as aflame with need and giddy expectation as religious revivals.

“On the Far Right, everything is heightened―love into adulation, fear into vengeance, anger into white-hot rage.

The Trumpocene shows that “here, in the undertow, our forty-fifth president, a vessel of conspiratorial fears and fantasies, continues to rise to sainthood.” And he has mastered the “kidding/not kidding” motif.

Saint Ashli
In section 3, Goodnight Irene On Survival, the title essay is about the insurrectionist Ashli Babbitt, killed on January 6 at the Capitol, who is beatified as a martyr of white womanhood. Yes, a martyr, not unlike the White virgin in the 1915  movie Birth Of A Nation who leaps to her death rather than submit to the wanton desires of a Black man.
Jeff Sharlet then continues traveling east, analyzing the Ashli movement, even as he deals with the grief of the passing of his stepmother, the widow of his late father Robert, the father he started to live with after his mother Nancy died too young, at 45 on January 1, 1989.
Surprisingly, the last chapter was about the musical group The Weavers, Fred Hellerman, Ronnie Gilbert, Lee Hays, and Pete Seeger, the Peekskill riot in 1949, and their career ups and downs.
It is arguable whether the first two and last chapters “belong” here, as he tries to add some hope to the narrative, but the book’s core was extraordinary.
2024
Here’s an addendum from Jeff’s Substack page, Scenes From A Slow Civil War. In the July 15, 2024 post, One Nation Under Fist: “Consider Trump v. United States, the powers of a king now granted to the presidency, in anticipation of Trump’s return. Consider the sermons preached in Christian nationalist churches across the country on Sunday, declaring Trump spared by God for a higher purpose. Consider the widespread contemplation of the millimeters between life and death for Trump on Saturday, the public pondering of a breeze that might have ever so slightly altered the bullet’s course, or a tremor that might have troubled the assassin’s hand. ‘It was God alone who prevented the unthinkable from happening’” Trump ‘truthed,’ and—” Expletive deleted.
“Those who claim calling Trump a threat to democracy is violent rhetoric are doing a kind of rhetorical violence to democracy, screeching it to a halt, making an ever-moving idea a static one, writing a banal and brutal ending onto a story that’s meant to keep going. The historian David Waldstreicher comments that for fascism and its enablers, ‘democracy is not a process, it’s just another word for the nation’—and the fist, under which it trembles.”
I should note that I’ve known Jeff Sharlet since he was six and a half years old. He lived in Scotia, NY, with his mom and sister Jocelyn. The morning after the Telling The Truth event, we went out for breakfast – he paid – and we talked for three hours.
[This is an edited version of the content of my book review at the Albany Public Library on July 30, 2024.]
Ramblin' with Roger
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