Hulu or bust?

In half a year, I’ve gone from raving about Hulu’s streaming offerings to thinking that I didn’t really require a continuing subscription, but just to catch up from time to time by subscribing for a month or two.  The new season of Pen15 kept me engaged, and now I’m awaiting another of Better Things. There are also a few well-regarded films, mostly foreign, that might be worth a look.  So here I’ll be putting together a good-bye-for-now package of Hulu programming, while I’m already taking a break from Netflix (an epoch of sorts, since I’ve been sending them money every month for almost 22 years). 
 
Hulu has had some of my favorite original programming in the past (Mrs. America, Normal People, Harlots, Ramy) and in conjunction with FX (Better Things and Reservation Dogs), but does it really warrant automatic renewal from month to month?  It likely makes more sense to subscribe intermittently, rather than shelling out thirteen bucks per month on a continuing basis.
 
Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle wrap up their traumedy series PEN15 (MC-92) in style, concluding their portrayal of 13-year-old best friends right at the turn of the millennium – and we can only hope they come back with a sequel that brings the pair of them up to date, as thirtysomething friends with babies.  This is a fearless and funny look at puberty, but much more comes into it.  Issues of ethnicity, for example, since Maya is half-Japanese and hates how she looks.  Divorcing parents created the domestic drama Anna faced at that age, and likewise the character Anna.  Personal history goes into the stories they tell, and honesty comes out, for a sense of authenticity amidst the raucous laughs.  The overall premise – “If I knew then what I know now …” – is embodied in both the writing and performances of Maya and Anna, and their friendship shines out of the show.  The series finale gave me no reason to alter my prior comment:  “Truthful and funny, thoughtful and stylish, with characters that make for enjoyable company, this is an entertaining show that probes for something more.”
 
Hulu’s browser rarely stumbles upon something I would actually like to see; rather I have to go looking for a film or program, only to find out it’s available on that particular channel, and then add it to “My Stuff.”  So it was notable that Together (MC-59) caught my eye, since I’ll always take a look at Sharon Horgan, even without checking the Metacritic score.  In this pandemic lockdown two-hander directed by Stephen Daldry, she is paired with James MacAvoy as an antagonistic couple forced to isolate with each other, with only their autistic son between them.  Much of the dialogue is addressed directly to the camera, by each in turn, with occasional scenes when they turn on each other with scabrous humor.  In some ways, it’s a quasi-documentary on the Covid response in the U.K., but in others it has the intensity of Scenes from a Marriage (though I’d take this over the Chastain-Isaacs version, if only because it makes its point in 90-odd furious and funny minutes.)
 
Another Hulu “find” that exceeded expectation was I’m Your Man (MC-78), a German sci-fi rom-com, if that is not a multiple contradiction in terms.  Maria Schrader’s film is speculative fiction in the best sense – what if a robot companion could be programmed to understand all your desires, with enough AI to learn just how to respond in every situation?  And what if he looked like Dan Stevens, in a marvelous and witty performance?  Would you fall in love with him?  That’s the question facing Maren Eggert, playing a cuneiform researcher at the Pergamon Museum in Berlin.  She’s a prickly sort, coming off romantic and professional disappointments, and an unwilling test subject for this iteration of robot design.  The film is less a “will-she-or-won’t-she?” tease than a neat philosophical exploration of how machines (and babies, for that matter) can learn to read people, and respond accordingly.  Funny, thought-provoking, and just a bit sexy – a good combination.
 
In mid-1970s NYC, I developed an interest in dance, and there were two troupes in which I took a particular interest, Paul Taylor and Alvin Ailey.  Jamila Wignot’s documentary Ailey (MC-77) refreshed my memories of his work, but did a lot more as well, approaching its subject from various angles, starting with his childhood in Depression-era Texas, narrated by Ailey’s autobiographical tapes and extremely well-illustrated by archival footage.  There’s enough old footage of performances to convey the flavor of his work, though there could have been more.  There’s retrospective commentary by the likes of Judith Jamison and Bill T. Jones.  There’s coverage of his Kennedy Center honors and a record of marathon touring.  There’s rehearsal footage from a new dance commemorating Ailey on the 50^th anniversary of his company.  And there’s the sad conclusion to his personal story, dying of AIDS after a semi-closeted life.  It’s all well-handled in an impressionistic 82 minutes.
 
Bergman Island (MC-82), Mia Hansen-Love’s latest, was a film I was looking for specifically, which turned up on Hulu just as I was wondering whether to take a break from the channel.  Like all her films, this one is intensely personal, but delicately balanced in tone and viewpoint.  Vicky Krieps plays her stand-in (or one of them), a filmmaker accompanying her older partner (Tim Roth, as stand-in for Assayas?) on a residency at the Ingmar Bergman “shrine” on Fårö Island.  She relates to him the screenplay she’s working on, and the film-within-the-film takes over, with Mia Wasikowska taking over as her alter ego, likely the same character from the other Mia’s earlier film, Goodbye First Love.  It’s complicated, wheels within wheels, but it’s also light and airy.  The sea and landscape come across as the opposite of Bergman’s doom-haunted terrain.  The maestro is ever-present, but treated irreverently, like the Bergman Safari bus tour or gift shop.  There are so many levels here, of humor and angst, that I’m not sure of its effect on someone not immersed in the lore of filmmaking.  Suffice it to say that I relished it.
 
That All Light, Everywhere (MC-76) appeared on Hulu is more surprising than the film itself.  Theo Anthony’s earlier well-regarded documentary Ratfilm took years to appear on the Criterion Channel, while this one turned up promptly on Hulu, which does boast an unexpected array of good foreign and documentary films.  Unfortunately, I’m not going to point you toward either of these filmic essays, which touch on interesting topics but wander from them in seemingly unrelated sequences.  Here, for example, there are scenes from a factory that makes both tasers and body cameras, and a group of policeman being instructed in the use of their new cameras, as well as surprising historical tidbits on the relation of weaponry, photography, and eugenics, but they are frequently drowned out by droning music or narration.  It finally struck me as more of a mishmash than an illuminating juxtaposition of topics, though the overall theme of surveillance was certainly timely and important.
 
For fans of Aubrey Plaza or indie films in general, Black Bear (MC-79) could be a satisfying experience.  I’m a little bit of both, so I didn’t mind watching at all, but I’m not gonna say you gotta see it.  Lawrence M. Levine’s film opens (and keeps returning to, with variations) a scene with Aubrey sitting in a bathing suit on a dock by an Adirondack lake, and then going into a rather palatial cabin and starting to write.  What she is writing is what you are about to see, in two different iterations.  The actress/filmmaker is the guest of a would-be creative couple played by Christopher Abbott and Sarah Gadon.  She observes and intervenes in the couple’s relationship, which reaches a crisis.  Start over again, with roles reversed; now Abbott is directing a film, Plaza is his wife and star, and Gadon is the other actress and the other woman.  The meta aspect of “making a movie in a big old house” works quite well, and Aubrey really gets to wail, but as a whole the film lacks a certain credibility, and the mix of comedy and drama is unstable.
 
I have yet to eat my spinach and watch a number of dark films with high Metacritic ratings, which I may wind up adding here.  But all in all, Hulu has proved itself to be of continuing value, at least through the forthcoming new season of Better Things.

[Update through mid-February]  When the Oscar nominations came out, I checked a NYT list of where the films were available, and found some just released on Hulu.
 
I’ll say this for Spencer (MC-76), I made it all the way through, which was not the case with Pablo Larrain’s earlier film Jackie, where I couldn’t bear the annoyance, some of which was shared by the new film.  I lack any fascination with Lady Di, but am interested in Kristen Stewart’s work and wouldn’t argue with her Best Actress nomination.  So while I scoffed at some elements – obvious symbolism, dubious psychology, grating music – I stuck around to see what Kristen could do to make Diana a plausible, let alone a sympathetic, character.  There was only so much she could do in these circumstances, but at least she had a little help from the likes of Timothy Spall and Sally Hawkins.  Still, stick with The Crown (or The Queen or something else) if you actually care to see how the House of Windsor lives, and what they’re like when not on display.
 
The Danish film Flee (MC-91) earned an unprecedented trifecta, nominated as best film in three Oscar categories – animated, documentary, and international.  The film itself is a unique blend of themes and styles.  A boy named Amir, who flees Kabul when the Mujahideen take over in 1992, finally makes it to Denmark after a series of emblematic refugee experiences, where he has become a successful academic on the verge of marrying another man.  A friend from high-school days, presumably director Jonas Poher Rasmussen, is now making a film of him delving into his memories to recover his past and an identity that was lost to him in his journey between worlds.  The recorded tapes are illustrated in a dazzling variety of animation styles, as well newsreel footage, to overpowering effect.  The story is compelling, and the layering of elements is a revelation.  In addition, Hulu offers a dubbed version, voiced by executive producers Riz Ahmed and Nicolaj Coster-Waldau.  This film makes an excellent case for Hulu as a more essential subscription channel than Netflix.
 
The streaming service (commercial-free option a must!) also offers complete runs of classic tv series from I Love Lucy to the likes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Friday Night Lights.  The channel carries lots of current network fare, which I almost never watch, but I made an exception for ABC’s Abbott Elementary (MC-78).  Comedian Quinta Brunson is the series’ creator and star, as an enthusiastic young Black teacher in a Philadelphia public school, with an amusing variety of colleagues, who go some distance to revive the tired straightjacket formula of episodic 22-minute sitcoms.  It’s not a show I’d commit to in its entirety, but tasty as an occasional amuse-bouche.

 
The fifth and final season of one of my personal favorites, Better Things (MC-94), debuted with two dynamite episodes at the end of February, so you can be sure that I will be continuing my Hulu subscription at least through the remainder of that show’s run.  There are also several challenging films I still intend to catch up with on Hulu, so I’ll be back with further coverage of their offerings.  Meanwhile, I have one postscript to this.
 
The Glass Castle (2017, MC-56) was a film I’d been looking for, as a reprise of Short Term 12 with director Destin Cretton and star Brie Larsen, and it finally appeared on Hulu.  I wasn’t familiar with Jeannette Walls’ bestselling memoir of familial dysfunction, so didn’t feel the comedown of the movie version, though the compromises with convention were obvious.  Still, the acting maintained my interest, even when the film became more slippery than confrontational.  Four children are raised by floridly irresponsible parents, played by Woody Harrelson and Naomi Watts, but bond together to escape their upbringing.  The kids are well-played by both child and adult actors, but their stories never come together plausibly, and the film drags on with some obligatory scenes of reconciliation, never quite taking off or digging deep.  Credit sequence montage of real-life counterparts does restore some sense of authenticity, however.