Movie Reviews
‘Summer 2000: The X-Cetra Story’ Review: Winning Doc Celebrates Adolescent Girlhood, in All Its Glitter-Sprinkled Complexity
If you were ever a giddy kid who spent summers hanging out with friends, making crazy pop videos, goofy short films, and composing off-key songs you were convinced were going to make you stars, then Summer 2000: The X-Cetra Story is the exact film you should watch, enjoy — and then have a bit of a cry after, mourning the happy, creative child you once were before you turned into whatever you are now.
Precisely distilling that tangy mix of nostalgia, joy and regret, this delightful SXSW-premiering documentary tells the story of X-Cetra, an all-girl garage band that three 11-year-olds and one 9-year-old in Santa Rosa, California, formed in the year 2000. With help from two of the girls’ mother, herself a home-studio musician-producer, they made one album on a set of CD-Rs that became, two decades later, a viral phenomenon among fans of outsider art, generating tributes from prominent music publications including Rolling Stone.
Summer 2000: The X-Cetra Story
The Bottom Line Girls just wanna have fun.
Venue: SXSW Film Festival (Documentary Feature Competition)
With: Ayden Mayeri, Jessica Hall, Janet Kariuki, Mary Washburn, Robin O’Brien
Director: Ayden Mayeri
Screenwriters: Ayden Mayeri, Barry Rothbart
1 hour 41 minutes
As it turns out, one of the members of X-Cetra is Los Angeles-based actor Ayden Mayeri (I Love That for You). Drawing from her experience as a filmmaker, Mayeri documents X-Cetra’s reformation both as an onscreen participant and this film’s director and co-writer. (Fellow performer Barry Rothbart takes credits here as the film’s co-writer, producer and cinematographer.)
Like the scrappy, unvarnished but sort of brilliant music the band made back when they were kids, the film itself is a little all over the place and arguably would benefit from some editorial tightening up, but it’s clearly made with love. Best of all, that generosity of feeling and affection applies not just to what the X-Cetra members feel for each other, both back in the day and in the present even after having drifted apart over the years, but what they feel for their young selves. In the end, it becomes a celebration of girlhood genius and the fearlessness of youth, festooned with glitter and fiercely crop-topped.
Also, given that we’re in a cultural moment when we’re being bombarded, mostly for righteous reasons, with grainy, slightly unfocused images of nubile young women who were abused by the likes of Jeffrey Epstein and others, it’s refreshing to see Mayeri and her friends’ snapshots and know that, for the most part, these were relatively happy kids.
That said, the film does touch on some of the darker feelings lurking under the surface — especially for sisters Janet and Mary Washburn, who left their father back east after he and their mom, Robin O’Brien, got divorced and Robin took the kids west to live in the Bay Area. The film also carefully explores how younger sister Mary felt abandoned by her friends when they all went up to high school and stopped bringing her along to parties where the older three — Mayeri, her best friend Jessica Hall, and big sister Janet (now Janet Kariuki) — started to explore their teenage sexuality, an environment inappropriate for still prepubescent Mary. Later, the film softly probes sore spots like how the older threesome also drifted apart over the years, and how Ayden and Jessica’s bond was especially tested by Jessica’s relationship with a psychologically abusive boyfriend.
Those dark passages add shade that balances the very sunshine-y material that makes up the vast majority of the film. Frenetically cut, perhaps intentionally in the fragmentary style of an early aughts pop video, the work flicks back and forth constantly between footage of the four women today and their younger selves, who made full use of early digital technology of the time to record their antics.
With all this fizzy activity, it’s not clear when Mayeri and Rothbart decided to start making this film — in other words whether it was before or after X-Cetra’s first and only album, then called Stardust, was uploaded to a specialist music site from whence its viral career was launched. Ultimately, it doesn’t really matter, but the sequence where they find out first that the The Guardian in the U.K. and then Rolling Stone are interested in interviews with them feels a little disingenuously presented so as to buttress the fairy-tale success story the film is selling.
But just as a mini highlight reel of Mayeri’s best bits as an actor illustrates, she has great natural comic timing and that serves her well here as a director. She also coaxes her friends well in the interviews — these women who are clearly not as at ease in front of a camera as she is — so that they feel secure enough to open up. Gradually, they fill out as “characters” in their own right in the comedy-drama of the doc, all of them enduringly regular but also individuals with complex inner lives. That fine line between banality and brilliance is one the film navigates throughout with grace.
Movie Reviews
Brian Miller Movie Review: Apex
Posted:
Updated:
(WSYR-TV) — An apex is the highest level, the ultimate height and Charlize Theron says the action-thriller currently on Netflix may just be the ultimate filmmaking experience in her distinguished career. She plays a woman seeking solitude, only to end up in a cat-and-mouse game opposite a hunter played by Taron Edgerton. Our ‘Movie Guy’ Brian Miller is here with his take on “Apex.”
Movie Reviews
Movie Review – Power Ballad (2026)
Power Ballad, 2026.
Directed by John Carney.
Starring Paul Rudd, Nick Jonas, Peter McDonald, Marcella Plunkett, Rory Keenan, Keith McErlean, Paul Reid, Beth Fallon, Havana Rose Liu, Jack Reynor, Naoimh Whelton, Mae Higgins, Ian Dillon, Kelly Thornton, Ebimie Anthony, Ruby Conway Dunne, Dean Panter, Juliette Crosbie, Robert Mitchell, Martha Breen, Dylan Kelly, Kellie El Mayss, and Alexa Scout Fagen.
SYNOPSIS:
Rick, a washed-up wedding singer, and Danny, a fading boy band star, bond over music and a late-night jam session. When Danny turns Rick’s song into a hit, Rick sets out to reclaim the recognition he believes he deserves.
Co-writer/director John Carney (here crafting the screenplay alongside supporting actor Peter McDonald) has an established track record of contemporary musicals with catchy original tunes that have long been flying under the radar for Academy Award consideration, but it should also be pointed out that the success of his films also comes from placing a sharp and acutely insightful emphasis on the creative process and the characters themselves. That is especially true for his latest work, Power Ballad, which features Paul Rudd as an Ireland-based wedding singer cover band frontman, Rick Power, perhaps like many of us coming into the film, still living in another time, or maligning the fact that rock and roll, for the most part, is dying off to other genres, particularly bubblegum mainstream-friendly pop.
As such, Rick’s next gig takes him and the band to Los Angeles for the wedding of a relative of once-popular musician Danny Wilson (played by Nick Jonas, which gives viewers some idea of the music the character creates), failing to keep up with his fellow boy band mates, who have all apparently gone on to bigger and brighter things in the wake of breaking up and going their separate ways. In the hours after the ceremony, they drunkenly get together to kick around ideas, experiment with collaborating on music, and mostly conclude that, while they may come from different genres with wildly different perspectives on art and on each other, there is real talent. In the moment, it appears that mutual respect has been agreed upon.
That only lasts for about 6 months, when Rick Power, amusingly, finds out while walking around a mall that Danny has taken the song he wrote, ” I Can’t Write a Song Without You”, slapped a bridge on it, and become a worldwide sensation without even asking if he would like to be cut into a fraction of the profits. More frustrating and possibly even defeating regarding the happiness of his family is that neither Rick’s wife (Marcella Plunkett) nor his teenage daughter (Beth Fallon) expresses any belief that he could be capable of writing those lyrics. On some level, it’s also likely humiliating that said daughter, who regularly playfully mocks his songwriting ideas, sings along to the hit song.
And since this is a John Carney film, the song is undoubtedly going to stick with viewers not only for its catchiness and rhythms, but also for what the lyrics mean for each character and art bearing a more personal meaning to the actual creator, who oftentimes might be the only one who knows the true emotional core and intent behind it. For Danny, it seems like a love song, but throughout, there is a sense that it might have meant something else to Rick when they were originally writing it together. Meanwhile, whenever Danny shows a trace of an awakening consciousness regarding his lack of moral ethics, his manager (played by John Carney regular Jack Reynor) is there to insist he bury those feelings, that it would be a bad look if word got out he mostly stole the song from a wedding singer of all people.
Nevertheless, with The Wedding Singer‘s DNA in its humor, the ensuing spiral eventually leads Rick Power (with Paul Rudd channeling some of that effortless charm into righteous anger) and his loyal bandmate, Sandy (Peter McDonald), to Los Angeles to confront Danny in person. Naturally, there are plenty of laughs along the way, all while the storytelling shifts into emotional territory, where it is no longer just about being cheated out of fame and fortune but about pursuing the truth and having that ambition and talent validated. For as much as Danny’s reasonings and justifications will make one want to punch him in the face, there is also some merit to his argument that no matter how good a piece of art is, it’s also about how it is packaged and who is putting it out there in the world.
This might also sound like a film with predictable plotting, which is true, but only to an extent. Some characters are confoundingly shoved aside, others are entirely one-dimensional, and there are a number of contrivances here to set the conflict in motion, not to mention the occasional scene that is perhaps a bit too much (a car accident that is almost immediately brushed off and comes to feel unnecessary in hindsight, for example), but there are genuinely subversive qualities in how this story unfolds, where it goes, and where it ultimately ends up.
That is also what lends Power Ballad much of its power: it’s not about lingering and hammering home those emotional beats and reveals, but about tucking them away into something smaller and more minimalist that turns out to be much more moving and sincere.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist
Movie Reviews
Film Review: “The Devil Wears Prada 2”
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Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.
I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m as sick of sequels as many other people. Every so often, however, one comes along that manages to not only match its predecessor’s energy but also manages to equal it, that strides across the screen with such panache and style that you find yourself absolutely captivated.
The Devil Wears Prada 2 is one such film.
Now, I’ll admit that I was more than a little skeptical when I found out there was going to be a sequel to a film that was released back in the halcyon days when one-and-done was more the norm than the exception. However, given the fact that the film managed to pull together the same gang–including director David Frankel–I figured it was at least giving it a shot. I’m certainly glad I did. The film made me laugh more than I ever expected and, more than that, it held me spellbound, drawing me back into this world of high fashion and high ideals and delicious bitchery. It was everything I wanted, and perhaps a little bit more.
When the story opens, our beloved Andy has been working as a successful journalist and is poised to receive a prestigious award; unfortunately, her victory is spoiled by the announcement that she, along with her colleagues, have been laid off. All is not lost, however, and she’s soon brought on to help head up the features department at Runway, where she once again finds herself desperately seeking approval from Miranda Priestly, who resents having this young woman thrust upon her. As the film proves, however, the two women have far more in common than either of them might think, and they have to work together to save Runway and perhaps journalism itself.
To say that Meryl Streep devours this role would be a bit of an understatement. Obviously Streep has had many, many, many great roles during her long and storied career, but for my money Miranda Priestly will always be my favorite. To begin with, there’s the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous, with her shock of white hair, her immaculate outfits, and her way of commanding every eye in a room. However, it’s not just her looks; Miranda has depth and genuine emotional investments, even though these might not always be obvious to the people in her orbit. She might be demanding and imperious and at times downright callous, but the thing is that she genuinely believes in what she preaches. She believes in human beauty and achievement, and she’s willing to go to great lengths to celebrate those things, and if you can’t keep up with her, or if you’re not as invested in them as she is, then that’s a you problem.
For her part, Hathaway is reliably bubbly and effervescent as Andy, a woman who has gone from being a wide-eyed neophyte to a highly-respected and passionate journalist. The brilliance of Hathaway’s performance lies in her ability to capture so many different elements of Andy’s character. She is, at once, still the same wide-eyed and somewhat naive woman she was when she was in her 20s and also someone who believes fiercely and passionately in journalism and what it means to American society and culture writ large. Maybe it’s just the millennial in me, but I adore both Hathaway and this character. They both remind us that millennials, for all that the general culture and our elders (and our juniors!) like to mock us, really do believe in things and, just as importantly, we believe they’re worth fighting for.
The mark of a truly great film–and, for that matter, sequel–is its ability to imbue even its supporting characters with their own arcs and their own emotional stakes. In that respect, too, The Devil Wears Prada 2 succeeds, in that it gives both Tucci’s Nigel and Blunt’s Emily their own journeys. For Nigel, this revolves around his desire to be more than just Miranda’s second-in-command. One can easily see why a man of his obvious taste and skill would want something more, and Tucci imbues him with just enough vulnerability that you can see his desire flicker of his eyes. He also has his fair share of softer moments, and I love the chemistry between Hathaway and Tucci.
In some ways, Emily’s story has been even more tragic than Nigel’s, if no less a result of Miranda, who essentially pushed her out of Runway because of her belief that she lacked the creative vision to really flourish there. Blunt, of course, is absolutely in her element, and though she’s as sharp-tongued as ever, there’s still enough human warmth behind her crisp delivery to allow us to see her as more than just a villain. She is, instead, someone with her own struggles and failures and motivations and, to be quite honest, she’s a delight.
Indeed, if anyone can be said to be the villain of this film, it would have to be the tech overlords–so perfectly embodied by Justin Theroux and B.J. Novak–who play their respective billionaires with just the right amount of preening idiocy and suave corporate ruthlessness. They care about nothing and no one but themselves and making sure they get as much money as they can before they destroy the very institutions they control. And, though some have sneered at the film’s commentary about the state of journalism and the ongoing corporate takeover and hollowing out of our cultural life and institutions, I actually think that’s precisely what gives the film its texture, its depth, and its bite. Because Miranda and Andy–and Nigel, and even Emily, in her own twisted way–care about beauty and fashion and human achievement, and because they’re performed with such depth and emotional authenticity by the film’s stars, we come to care about these things, too.
Even if every other aspect of this film had failed, I still would’ve enjoyed and praised the extent to which it highlights the importance of friendship and bonds and respect between and among women. Though Miranda is at first as dismissive of Andy as she was 20 years ago–in large part, one suspects, because Andy has been foisted on her by her corporate master–she gradually gains a grudging respect One of the most poignant scenes, however, belongs to Emily and Andy, who share one last scene together, forging a friendship they should have had years before but which they both clearly need. Sometimes, when you get down to it, all you really need to thrive is a good friend and a basket of fries.
Look, if this is what millennial nostalgia is going to look and feel like when it comes to the movies, we could do a whole lot worse than The Devil Wears Prada 2. This is a sequel that actually has some things to say but that doesn’t lose sight of the fact that its primary purpose is to entertain and delight us. Fortunately for all of us, it manages to do both. What a remarkable gift!
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