Hulu-ciné-shins

I welcomed a return to Hulu for the opportunity to finish the third season of Welcome to Wrexham (MC-77), and also the most recent few episodes of Abbott Elementary (MC-83).  Abbott continues to provide enjoyment in the outmoded tradition of 22-minute sitcoms like Parks & Recreation.  Wrexham, however, continues to find new directions to explore in the relationship between sports and community.  The show might have begun as a seeming attempt to cash in on the appeal of Ted Lasso by two Hollywood stars who buy an ailing Welsh soccer team.  But while Rob McElhenny and Ryan Reynolds provide an amusing throughline to the story, they happily recede into the background of the overall proceedings, which range far and wide.  The third season has fewer but longer episodes, with no diminishment of interest and enjoyment.  I eagerly anticipate the fourth.
 
But the big lure back to Hulu was of course the third season of The Bear (MC-87), which did not disappoint but did not satiate either, something of a comedown from the highs of season two.   It’s clearly a transitional season that stretches out and accommodates other characters’ stories, while remaining fixated on the inner struggles of main character Carmy (Jeremy Allen White).  Show creator Christopher Storer allows himself to go on whatever tangents he chooses, usually to good effect but with more angst than joy.  Carmy’s maniacal pursuit of culinary excellence begins to seem deranged, and Claire Bear’s absence unbearable.  Syd’s (Ayo Adebiri) future with the restaurant hangs in doubt.  The rest of the staff have their moments (Tina’s especially welcome), but this season mostly serves as a tease for the next.
 
The eight-part series Under the Bridge (MC-70) proved substantially better than its overall MC rating, even though true crime dramatizations are not generally my thing.  For me the draw was Lily Gladstone, but I’ve liked Riley Keough in other things as well.  I was reminded of the Toni Collette-Merrit Wever pairing in Unbelievable.  Based on a nonfiction book by Rebecca Godfrey (played by Keough), the series is set on Vancouver Island, where a group of mean girls are responsible for the death of one of their number, a rebellious 14-year-old whose strict parents are from India.  Gladstone is a First Nations policewoman who was adopted in infancy by the white police chief, and formerly a close friend of the Keough character.  Backgrounding the whodunit aspect, the series flashes back and forth in time and between characters, painting a broad picture of an insular community coming to terms with familial trauma of various kinds, grounded in teen bullying and infected by racism.  Consider this series a sleeper for listing among the best TV of the year.
 
With Origin (MC-75), Ava DuVernay tries to split the difference between Selma and 13th, and winds up with an ungainly hybrid that falls short of either, and would have worked better as a four-part docudrama like her When They See Us.  Presumably she wanted to bring Isabel Wilkerson’s bestselling book Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents to a wider audience than any documentary could draw.  She thus makes Isabel herself (well-played by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor) the center of a somewhat melodramatic story, and proves yet again that a writer working on a book is not a gripping cinematic enterprise.  The acting is generally good, and the research travelogue and historical re-creations are mostly effective, but they go together awkwardly, and at 2:20 the film is either too long or not nearly long enough.  Still, the argument that caste is more significant than race in the marginalization and persecution of different peoples – such as American Blacks, German Jews, and Indian untouchables – is worth pondering
 
Though hardly an auteur, Roger Michell made a lot of enjoyable films, from the 1995 Persuasion through Notting Hill and beyond – his final feature, The Duke (MC-74), adds to that list.  Based on the true story of the 1961 theft from the National Gallery of Goya’s portrait of the Duke of Wellington – by a retired bus driver from Newcastle – this comedy-mystery stars Jim Broadbent and Helen Mirren, and revels in contrasts of class, caste, and region, with Michell’s light hand rather than the agitprop of a Mike Leigh or Ken Loach.  The two stars, and a good supporting cast, deliver a delightful tale of gumption and comeuppance.
 
Though you wouldn’t know it from Hulu’s home page, they surprisingly continue to have some new and impressive foreign films, despite takeover by Disney.  The latest example is La Chimera (MC-91), Alice Rohrwacher’s acclaimed film centered on a British archaeologist in Tuscany.  Now, my son is a British archaeologist whose career started on an Etruscan dig (he’s currently digging in the Republic of Georgia), but he’s nothing like the one played by Josh O’Connor, who is a grave-robbing scoundrel and a lost soul, though not without redeeming qualities.  Like an archaeologist, Rohrwacher excavates buried artifacts and seeks to explain ancient enigmas from surviving fragments.  If you’re not willing to dig with her, don’t bother to join her expedition.  Her cast offers committed support, led by Isabella Rossellini.  From the get-go, you don’t know where this film is going or how it’s going to get there, but you feel in the sure hands of a filmmaker who knows what she wants to say and can find some means to say it, even when the meaning is not immediately clear.  Oddities abound, but sense is made, as we put the disparate shards back together, with a deep grounding in film history.  The quest may be chimerical, but it’s rooted in a magical reality.
 
I read that Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days (MC-80) was reverse-engineered from a desire to highlight the remarkable architecture of some of Tokyo’s public lavatories.  If so, mission accomplished.  But so much more is accomplished in this mostly-silent portrayal of a toilet cleaner (a remarkable Koji Yakusho, awarded Best Actor at Cannes) going about his daily rounds.  His mysterious backstory is filled in with a few clues and encounters, but the collections of books and cassettes in his spartan apartment suggest that he was once something quite different, having chosen (or resigned himself to) a limited and regimented existence.  Nonetheless his face registers quiet delight with that existence, and a genial response to other isolated people.  Hard to make this sound like something you might want to watch, but believe me, it's profoundly humanistic and heartening, and deserving of its Oscar nomination for Best International Feature.  I enjoyed the largely-English music soundtrack as much as the Ozu-inspired filmmaking.
 
Adam Driver held my attention as Ferrari (MC-73), as did Penelope Cruz as his wife, but Shailene Woodley is largely wasted as the other woman.  Michael Mann’s busy film does not come close to the recent Ford v. Ferrari in making motor sports the least bit interesting, but a 1000-mile cross-country race does allow for an engaging travelogue through Italy (minus the fatal car crashes).
 
I was misled by the title of The Supremes at Earl’s All-You-Can-Eat (MC-55) to think it was the origin story of the great Motown singing group.  And somewhat misled by a NYT recommendation, though in the event I did not regret watching, in appreciation of the stories of three middle-aged Black women, arriving in the same week that one of their number was nominated for President.  Fine actresses tell a rather formulaic and box-checking tale, spanning three decades of Sisterhood.  I was also misled by the mismatch between the younger and older actresses, though each was pretty good in her own right, led by Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor, Uzo Aduba, and Sanaa Lathen.
 
Older movies tend to move from one streaming channel to another, but several I was interested in seeing again recently showed up on Hulu.  The Big Lebowski (MC-71), despite the charm of Jeff Bridges as The Dude, does not rank with the better Coen brothers’ films, but Say Anything (MC-86) certainly holds up as John Cusack’s breakthrough film and as Cameron Crowe’s directorial debut.  Slums of Beverly Hills (MC-68) was mixed up in my memory with the slapstick of Bette Midler’s Down & Out in Beverly Hills, but I watched to see a teenaged Natasha Lyonne, and was impressed with Tamara Jenkins’ debut feature based on her own teenage years, which she would follow up at decade intervals with the excellent films The Savages and Private Life.
 
Abbott Elementary meets Sex Education in English Teacher (MC-83), moving from elementary school in Philly to high school in Austin, and from ABC to FX so the “fucks” are flying.  Brian Jordan Alvarez is the creator and star, in the mold of Quinta Brunson of Abbott (though gay as all get-out) – he also has a crush on a hunky Black fellow teacher.  The ensemble of E.T. is not as engaging as that of A.E. so I’m not sure how long I will persist in watching, but it’s not without its sitcom laughs.
 
Hulu is proving stickier than I expected.  Emmy awards are a devalued currency, but it caught my attention that Shogun won 18 (!).  I’d gotten 20 minutes into the first episode when I decided the show was yet another GoT clone, which I didn’t need to see.  On second approach, I wonder whether it might turn out to be more on the order of Wolf Hall.  We shall see – and I shall report.
 
For a while I’ve been intending to pause my Hulu subscription and wrap up this survey.  But now I intend to re-up for another month, with the Disney+ add-on, so I’ll break off here and come back with a sequel.

Britbox and the scrapbox

[Sorry for rogue underlining that I couldn't fix in first two paragraphs.]

A Britbox special offer paved the way for me to complete my survey of Jane Austen adaptations, starting with the ne plus ultra of Pride and Prejudice (Wiki), starring Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth, and a host of players just perfect in their roles.  In six episodes, this series has plenty of room to breathe; it’s quite true to the text and its innovations are well judged, exemplified by putting the oh-so-famous opening line into Lizzy’s mouth, thrown off as a sarcastic riposte to her mother (a horrifyingly comic portrayal by Alison Steadman).  Susannah Harker is a perfect Jane Bennet, and the relationship of the sisters is touchingly similar to that between the writer Jane and her sister Cassandra, though they both remained maiden aunts.  After thirty years, the series has been restored digitally to a pristine quality that makes settings and costumes look like new, quite a contrast to my initial viewing, from a VHS tape made by my mother off the original broadcast.  Whatever your own pride or prejudice, I defy you not to enjoy this rendition.

 
I followed up by revisiting two versions of Persuasion.  Roger Michell’s from 1995 (Wiki), starring Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds, remains my favorite by far, second only to the much more expansive P&P, and tied with the contemporaneous S&S.  The 2007 version (Wiki) seems barely adequate now that my original moment of being smitten by Sally Hawkins (as Poppy in Mike Leigh’s Happy-Go-Lucky) has passed, since the rest of the production does not come up to her level.
 
Whilst on Britbox, I took another look at Romola Garai as Emma (Wiki) in a 2009 BBC series that definitely takes liberties in opening out the book, but is not as misleading as some latter-day Austen adaptations and imitations.  Romola plays Emma believably but somewhat broadly; Jonny Lee Miller is good, if a little too hunky, as Knightley; but Michael Gambon is perhaps the best Mr. Woodhouse.  The period design is pretty reliable, with well-placed emphasis on domestic architecture, and the supporting actors are adequate if not memorable.  Going more for the comic than the ironic, the only thing this has over other versions of Emma is the amplitude of four episodes, but it does not come close to the pitch-perfect richness of the 1995 P&P.
 
To complete my survey, I returned to the 1940 Pride and Prejudice (Wiki) starring Laurence Olivier and Greer Garson, who both perform okay in a ludicrous MGM production that puts the “costume” in “costume drama.”  With no taste for verisimilitude, appropriate Regency design, or fidelity to Austen’s text or tone, the film plays for broad domestic comedy and goes for a mid-Victorian look, with absurd leftovers from the Gone with the Wind shoot.  The “Golden Age of Hollywood” attempts literature but reduces it to abject formula.
 
Finally, as I was about to close the book on Austen, I noticed that Hulu was also now offering the canonical 1995 P&P, plus a follow-up that I had never seen, a 2008 BBC/Andrew Davies adaptation of Sense and Sensibility (MC-79).  We’re halfway to Bridgerton here, as this two-part series opens with a “tasteful” sex scene with little reference to the book.  If Davies’ stated aim was to make viewers forget the Emma Thompson version, this was a woeful failure, with not one of the performers being more memorable than the film’s, though Dan Stevens does a good job imitating Hugh Grant.  But – E.T.>Hattie Morahan, Kate Winslet>Charity Wakefield, Alan Rickman>David Morrissey, Greg Wise>Dominic Cooper.  Nonetheless, I enjoyed watching this Bronte-like take on our dear proper Jane, and was eventually won over by Morahan’s performance in contrast to dear Emma’s. 
 
This deep immersion in Janeite lore certainly revealed the limited circumference of her world, and the repeated reliance on certain types and tropes, but also the consummate artistry of her self-described “fine brush on two inches of ivory,” and penetrating wit about the personalities within her purview.
 
So in sum, the Austen adaptations to watch are the Jennifer Ehle P&P, the Amanda Root Persuasion, the Kate Beckinsale Emma, the Emma Thompson-Kate Winslet Sense & Sensibility, the Frances O’Connor Mansfield Park, and the Felicity Jones-Carey Mulligan Northanger Abbey, with Whit Stillman’s Love & Friendship as a bonus.
 
Also on Britbox, Stonehouse (MC-77) follows in the tradition of the successful Hugh Grant series A Very English Scandal, dealing in three hour-long episodes with the feckless peccadillos of a real British politician.  The title character is played enjoyably by Matthew Macfadyen, in a manner much like his performance in Succession, with his real-life spouse Keeley Hawes as the long-suffering wife.
 
Flying to and from the U.K., I sort-of-watched some so-so films on which I will report briefly.  Wicked Little Letters (MC-58) boasts Olivia Colman and Jessie Buckley, two must-see actresses as far as I’m concerned, and a host of familiar British faces, including Anjana Vasan, the star of We Are Lady Parts.  Billed as a “black comedy mystery,” it’s mainly a cozy BBC-worthy visit to an actual seaside hamlet a hundred years ago, where two neighbors start out as friends but wind up as courtroom adversaries.  But, oh those two.
 
Coming back, comfortably provided with better screen and headphones, I overlooked poor reviews to watch Bob Marley: One Love (MC-43), which I liked well enough, but nowhere near as much as the 2012 documentary Marley. Kingsley Ben-Adir makes a credible reggae star (more so than as either Malcolm X or a Ken), and Lashana Lynch is good as Rita Marley.  Director Reinaldo Marcus Green does what he can with a script by committee and under Marley family supervision, which does not venture far beyond the usual rock musician biopic tropes.  But the film does revive a lot of kick-ass music.
 
High over the Atlantic, I also got halfway into popular recent films Anybody But You and Challengers – do not need to see more of the former, but may look to see the rest of the latter when I can.
 
The Electrical Life of Louis Wain (MC-63, AMZ) is better than its Metacritic average would suggest, as you might expect of a film that stars Benedict Cumberbatch, Claire Foy, Toby Jones, and Andrea Riseborough, with narration by Olivia Colman.  Will Sharpe’s off-kilter tale relates the life of eccentric late-Victorian artist Louis Wain, whose hugely-popular pictures of cats are credited with changing their cultural image from feral ratcatchers to household pets.  The film is all over the place, narratively and stylistically, but well-designed, and grounded in the touching if tragic romance between Cumberbatch and Foy.  Not nearly as twee as it might have been, absent the admirable acting.
 
Ethan Hawke has carved out a commendable career for himself, so I ignored poor reviews to watch his directorial effort Wildcat (MC-55, Kanopy), starring his daughter Maya Hawke as Flannery O’Connor.  She also plays characters in fragments from some of O’Connor’s stories, in a literal interpretation of their autobiographical impulse.  Laura Linney plays her mother, in real life and in the stories.  A lot of actors prove willing to pitch in on another actor’s film, so there are several well-known cameos.  And the overall look of the film, with its period recreations, does not bespeak a strained indie budget.  So I respond to this film as I’ve responded to the work of its subject – interesting, but not really hitting me where I live.  Still, a pretty good attempt at making a biopic out of the solitary life of a writer.
 
After this potpourri, next up will be a lengthy survey of recent offerings on Hulu.