I have a super-long post about
the Criterion Channel in process, but in the meantime I collect some collateral
viewing on other channels.
Furious (MC-81,
Hulu) leads me to make amends to its creator,
Elizabeth Meriwether. I didn’t even
credit her for a previous series I admired, Dying for Sex (see here). And I
came to her new show mainly because it was reportedly inspired by Black
Widow, a Debra Winger film I remember liking a lot. But I stuck around through all eight episodes,
largely because of the writing, as delivered by a very fine cast. About the only element derived from the movie
is the cat-and-mouse between two women, serial killer and investigator, who are
more alike than different. Here Lola
Petticrew is the killer and Emmy Rossum the probationary FBI agent on her
trail. Scoot McNairy is the latter’s sympathetic
partner from the NYPD, and Quincy Tyler Bernstein her sardonic mentor. All are excellent. The familiar storyline is enhanced by the
topicality of its perspective on the world of Jeffrey Epstein, and serious
meditations on the nature of crime, vengeance, and justice. It also mixes humor with suspense and
outrage.
Enough to make me go back to another Meriwether series that I missed, The
Dropout (MC-75, Hulu),
with Amanda Seyfried playing Elizabeth Holmes, as she lies her way into notoriety
as the head of Theranos with claims of a breakthrough blood testing machine,
which provided excellent background for the celebrated new “documentary” by
Nathan Fielder, You Can See Everything (MC-95!).
It’s also worth noting that
Hulu has another excellent series starring Lola Petticrew, namely Say
Nothing (reviewed here), and
for more of this emerging star from Belfast, take a look at Trespasses (MC-71, PBS), another worthy series set amidst the Irish
Troubles. It’s Belfast in the 1970s, and
religious apartheid is strictly and violently enforced on both sides. Petticrew is a Catholic grade schoolteacher
and sometime bartender in her family’s pub.
Tom Cullen is an older Protestant barrister who defends Catholics,
frequents the bar, and is trying to learn Irish. Not just society and culture, but actual
barricades keep them apart; nonetheless the mutual attraction outweighs the
risks, at least in the moment. Adapted
from a popular novel, sometimes questionably directed, and not a good fit for
four episodes, the series could have been shorter or longer, either focusing on
the relationship or delving deeper into the social fissures. Still, Petticrew is now on my list of
actresses to look for, and somehow I took away a little collateral hope that if
Ireland could get beyond its sectarian Troubles, maybe the U.S. can get beyond
ours.
I didn’t hold out a lot of
hope for Best Medicine (MC-62), the Hulu remake -
transplanted from Cornwall to Maine - of Doc Martin, one of my
all-time favorite series (my parting word here), so
wasn’t disappointed when one episode was plenty to convince me there was no
reason to watch more, certainly not when there are 18 years’ worth of the
original to watch or rewatch.
My favorite active American
actor is Ethan Hawke, Starlin Harjo created one of my favorite shows (Reservation
Dogs), and I once had a museum gig in Tulsa, so I was destined to love The
Lowdown (MC-92), and
I do. I refer you to my comments on the
first season here, and
with the second halfway through as I post this round-up, simply renew my
recommendation for one of the very best series currently running. Likewise, I’m eagerly anticipating the final
six episodes of the second season of The Rivals (MC-87) starting in November,
but that will wait till a further update.
Now we turn to some worthy new films on Hulu.
Occasionally a new film will
make me wish I was still programming films at the Clark, and The
Christophers (MC-79) is
one such. Steven Soderbergh’s latest pits
Ian McKellan, as a declining painter of the ilk of Francis Bacon or Lucien Freud,
against Michaela Coel playing a sometime forger getting by as a restorer, in a
cage match in the old painter’s cluttered and decaying London townhouse. She’s been recruited by his alienated children
to finish the eponymous series of paintings (of the artist’s long-ago lover) so
they can be sold, and she has her own motivation of revenge in becoming his
assistant. They spar constantly about the
value of art - and other differences like age, race, and gender - as the story
twists and turns, in a marvelously malignant duet. McKellen and Coel are both superb in very
distinct ways, and comically combustible.
The indefatigable Soderbergh has made like, what – twenty films? – since
his “retirement,” usually shooting and cutting them himself, under pseudonyms. Of all his heists and capers, this might be
my favorite.
I am far from an expert on
Japanese anime, but I do like to sample highpoints of the form, so I took to Suzume
(MC-77) as
one of Hulu’s hidden sidelights, perhaps courtesy of the Disney
connection. Makoto Shinkai’s opulent
visuals are reminiscent of Studio Ghibli and make this film highly watchable,
if not always comprehensible to a viewer not versed in Japanese folklore or attuned
to their cultural apprehensions about natural disasters, as a teen girl enlists
to combat volcano monsters and climate change.
For me it was a mix of “Wow!” and “Hunh?”
Another niche film on Hulu is
The Plague (MC-75), which could be called
“Lord of the Flyweights.” Charlie
Polinger’s debut film obviously has a deep personal resonance, in telling of a
water polo camp for 12- and 13-year-old boys in 2003, with a newcomer awkwardly
making his way into the existing dynamic, with the in-group avoiding one of their
number like the plague. The acting is remarkably
believable all round, and the traumas of adolescence seem very authentic,
despite horror film trappings added for accentuation, to sometimes comic and
sometimes horrific effect. Polinger
displays an eye for grabby visuals and an ear for real dialogue that promises
more to come. Well done, but to me
rather disturbingly reminiscent.
The nineties were one of many
decades when I paid no attention to new pop music, so almost the first time I
heard of Oasis was when Tim Miller, one of my favorite podcast hosts, took time
off to go to Manchester UK for a reunion homecoming concert of the group. So I was intrigued when Oasis: Don’t
Look Back in Anger (MC-81)
turned up on Hulu shortly after Oasis: Knebworth 1996 (MC-86) did
on Kanopy. The latter is largely a
concert film about a British Woodstock, when the group at their peak of fame
played to 250,000 people over two days at a rural estate. I could see how the band emerged from the
Manchester music scene that I learned about from 24 Hour Party People
and other films, punk fueled by working class anger, transitioning from Thatcherite
to Blairite. What was striking to me was
the way the huge crowd danced and sang along as one, in the sort of frenzy one
might associate with religious or political cults, while Liam Gallagher wailed
the songs written by his brother Noel, who fronted the band on guitar. I was glad to have captioning to understand
the words, and was not immune to the groove.
“Don’t Look Back in Anger” is one of their signature songs and neatly
titles the more recent documentary about the brothers getting back together
after an acrimonious 15-year breakup, which contributed an aura of forgiveness
and brotherhood to their international tour.
As with EPiC, the visual record is so deep that renditions of
songs can be edited together from many performances, but here they are intercut
with audiences singing along to every word, even in Brazil or Korea. As with most topics, my approach to music is
typically through movies, and several documentaries have led me to unexpected
favorites (I think particularly of Leonard Cohen and Tom Petty). These two films won’t put Oasis on that list,
but I appreciate what I learned from them.
I would never pass up a new
film from the Dardenne brothers, who are a cinematic touchstone to me, but I
was surprised to find Young Mothers (MC-80) on Amazon, where it
was well worth sitting through couple of incongruous commercial breaks. They’re socially conscious quasi-documentarians
with a knack for directing nonprofessional actors to convincing performances,
always set in Liège, a French-speaking province of Belgium, and dealing with
underclass outsiders. This film
interweaves the stories of four teenage mothers in a government shelter, each
dealing with the problems and prospects of their situation, with personal issues,
dubious parents, and unreliable partners.
It’s naturalistic, yet immaculately scripted and performed; not as bleak
or tense as many of their films but just as compassionate toward underdogs. To me the Dardennes are filmmakers of the
highest order, and this is one of their most
approachable and hopeful depictions of difficult circumstances.
Just when it got to the point
when the only thing I was watching on HBO was John Oliver (easily seen on
YouTube alternatively), they maxed out by livesteaming AL playoff games
featuring my very own Cleveland Guardians, so I re-signed to a premium no-ads
subscription. Looking around I found a
new concentration of British imports, including great Britbox shows like Riot
Women, but also HBO’s own Youth (MC-82) and War (MC-74), both of which coincidentally feature a teen actor
whom you will recognize instantly by the similarity to his Oscar-winning father.
Youth is the latest from the great Sharon Horgan, who
reliably translates personal trauma into delightful and insightful comedy, from
Catastrophe to Bad Sisters. In this incarnation, she’s a
recently-divorced literary agent (so cool that one episode is set at the famous
Frankfurt Book Fair) in a menopausal quest for some “lightly degrading sex.” Horgan shines as both writer and actor, with
a fine supporting cast, and the London literary scene is decidedly interesting. The eight half-hour episodes left me hanging a bit – I wanted more (and will probably
get it). Broadly funny and deeply perceptive,
Sharon Horgan receives a blanket endorsement from me.
Similarly, Dominic West has
had much-watch status since The Wire, while fashion icon Sienna Miller
has only occasionally bobbed into my view (twenty years ago as Edie Sedgwick in
Factory Girl and a decade later as Tippi Hedren in The Girl). In War, the pair are enmeshed in a
celebrity divorce – he a rising tech entrepreneur, she a declining movie star –
represented by two high-powered (and very devious) London law firms. This legal series does revive some of the Succession
blend of high gloss and biting satire (maybe Industry does as well,
but lacking trusted actors hasn’t drawn me in).
Generally, I steer clear of series about lawyers, as I do about doctors
and cops, though not as much as I avoid superheroes and monsters, but War
has just enough appeal to keep me watching. I predict I’ll stay with it to the end
of this season, but wouldn’t come back for more unless attracted by other stars
as the featured clients.
I’ve lamented HBO’s decline
from Home Box Office the elite premium channel, through its glory days as
must-watch viewing that elevated TV to a different aesthetic realm, to its
current megacorporate identity as HBOmax (if that’s the current moniker?) –
just another platform for a potpourri of pedestrian programming, something for
everyone but no mark of quality. But credit where it’s due, they’ve just
offered a gem of a film, The Invite (MC-82), a chamber piece with
four sterling actors trapped uneasily in a San Francisco apartment. Olivia Wilde directs and stars as a bored and
anxious housewife eager to invite over some glamorous new neighbors. Seth Rogen is her sardonic sadsack husband, a
former musician now unhappily teaching; a delightful Penelope Cruz and a game
Edward Norton are the neighbors - she a therapist and sexologist, he a
design-conscious former firefighter - with their own invite in mind. (Many cast and crew members of the
single-season wonder Freaks & Geeks have gone on to major careers,
but who’d have thought that dopey Seth Rogen would wind up doing the most
substantial work of them all, both here and in The Studio?) As it happens, I’d recently rewatched Mike
Nichols’ Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and could not stop seeing
parallels, but it turns out this film is based on a Spanish play that was made
into a movie, and then remade in several other countries, here with a
screenwriting credit to Rashida Jones. This could be the best sophisticated
American urban relationship dramedy since Woody Allen was cancelled (though
Nicole Holofcener might like a word).
Having caught up with The Dropout,
I was happy to see The Inventor: Out for Blood in Silicon Valley (MC-66) turn
up on HBO. I wanted to match Amanda
Seyfried’s performance to the actual Elizabeth Holmes, and truthfully the two
performances are equally unsettling and just plain odd. Alex Gibney has been a reliable documentarian
from Enron: Smartest Guys in the Room to the much-anticipated four-hour evisceration
of Musk; this was more workmanlike than his best, but still informative
and fascinating. I also look forward to
seeing the celebrated face-to-face between consummate con artists Elizabeth
Holmes and Nathan Fielder in YCSE, when that new film comes to a theater
in my house.
Among the new finds on Kanopy,
The Night of the 12th (MC-81) won
six Césars a few years ago. Dominik Moll’s
film is a pensive police procedural, where the focus is not so much on solving
a murder as the effect that not solving it has on the psyches of the
investigators. The acting is quite good,
and the setting in Grenoble is novel, pretty much unknown aside from the 1968
Winter Olympics. A young woman is
murdered horrifically, and many suspects emerge as her adventurous sex life
comes to light. Each male is odious is
his own way, but each is exonerated in turn, and preys on the conscience of the
police captain, working off his angst by going around in circles at the
velodrome alone at night. Unresolved as
a mystery and rather unthrilling as a thriller, this film remains interesting
for its probing of the psychology of men in general and the police in
particular.
I check the Kanopy library
service every week for new listings, and regularly find things I have
bookmarked to watch on another channel.
Such was the case with Miroirs No.3 (MC-78). Any new film by Christian Petzold goes on my
watchlist immediately, and while I was waiting for my next re-up with Mubi,
here it was free on demand (the same can be said for the film at the top of my
Criterion list, Magellan, so really, for one last time – if you
have a library card I strongly suggest you find out whether it admits you to
either Kanopy or Hoopla – recent foreign films of this sort are just one category
from a literal library of streaming options).
Anyway, back to Petzold’s latest, featuring the customary Pauline Beer,
who has replaced Nina Hoss as his muse, and magnet for the viewer’s attention. She’s a depressed music student in Berlin, whose
graduating performance is to be the Ravel piano piece of the title. But it’s a winding road there, filled with
psychological observation and an undercurrent of mystical connection. A pair of women meet by chance at the side of
a country road. The Beer character is a
passenger in a convertible driven by her angry boyfriend, passing an older
woman painting a picket fence in an apparent state of mourning. They encounter each other again by accident,
but each fills a need for the other, and they form a bond important for both,
though their closeness raises questions.
Answers are suggested but not given, an aura of doubt surrounds all
their interactions. Mysteries are propounded
but resolved only by a glance. If like
me, you love ruminative films with strange staying power, check out Petzold. (And Kanopy!)
And now I dig deep into the Criterion
Channel . . .
