Cover-Up **1/2

One should generally try to avoid the critics’ trap of “here’s the movie they should have made,” but it’s hard not to consider what a missed opportunity this documentary biography turns out to be. Certainly veteran investigative journalist Seymour M. “Sy” Hersh has had a monumental professional career—breaking stories over the course of 50 years from the My Lai massacre to torture at Abu Ghraib—of the kind that deserves praise, and the profile offered up by Laura Poitras and Mark Obenhaus gets just enough of his grudging participation to show why his irascibility might have been one of the keys to his success. But that “grudging” part results in a film that goes heavy on archival footage about these various scandals that has to assume any give viewer knows nothing about them, resulting in a lot of throat-clearing that misses the focus on what Hersh in particular was able to uncover, and why, as a journalist committed to shoe-leather reporting and curiosity rather than credulous access-currying regurgitation of official statements. And, since it’s clear from the outset that Hersh has no interest in opening up about himself beyond bare-bones biographical details, there’s nothing here that allows for insight regarding what might have turned this guy into such a bulldog for holding power to account. In one anecdote Hersh offers about his mother, he remembers her describing him as “always going where nobody wants you.” The filmmakers here don’t seem to think that’s their job, too. Available Dec. 26 via Netflix. (NR)

Goodbye June **1/2

Family dysfunction drama tends to work best when it’s narrowly focused, so it’s not surprising that one of the main problems with this one is that it tries to juggle too many characters with too many issues all rushing towards one cathartic deadline. That moment is provided by the imminent death of June Cheshire (Helen Mirren), whose cancer returns aggressively in the two weeks before Christmas, forcing everyone else—her four children Julia (Kate Winslet), Molly (Andrea Riesborough), Helen (Toni Collette) and Connor (Johnny Flynn), and husband Bernie (Timothy Spall)—to unpack all of their baggage. Winslet also directs in her feature debut, from a script by her son Joe Anders, and there’s a lot of frisky humor around the edges, particularly in the first hour as the characters’ stresses express themselves in wildly different ways. Unfortunately, the scenes where a bunch of people swirl chaotically around June’s hospital room becomes a metaphor for the overstuffed nature of this narrative, which could have used at least one fewer Cheshire sibling—and I’d quickly nominate Collette’s broad parody of a yoga-teaching/sage-smudging/crystal toting earth mama. And considering there are years’ worth of issues being addressed here, some of them get resolved in improbably short conversations. As a holiday tear-jerker, it does effectively jerk some tears—and maybe a long the way it could have jerked a character or two out of the second-to-last draft. Available Dec. 24 via Netflix. (R)

Marty Supreme ****

The Adam Sandler “This is how I win” meme from 2019’s Uncut Gems might be the Rosetta Stone for understanding the protagonists of Josh Safdie’s movies, including those with brother Benny: hustlers and on-the-make guys convinced that they’re smarter and more destined for victory than the rest of the world sees in them. That’s certainly true of Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet), a Jewish youth in early 1950s New York convinced that his skills as a table-tennis prodigy will lead him to the big time—if only he can get out of his own arrogant way. Safdie and regular Safdie brothers writing collaborator Ronald Bronstein craft another blood-pressure-raising episodic narrative out of Marty’s misadventures, particularly once he’s forced to track down a ridiculous amount of money in order to make it to the world championships in Tokyo, and it’s a magnificent mix of existential danger and absurdist hilarity. And Chalamet’s performance may be his best ever, exuding enough hyper-confident charisma to make it plausible that he could woo a retired Hollywood actress (Gwyneth Paltrow) and pull so many people into his schemes. Safdie even wrangles a great supporting performance out of Shark Tank’s Kevin O’Leary, even if the role of an asshole millionaire isn’t much of a stretch. Topped off by a wonderfully anachronistic score of ’80s synth-pop, Marty Supreme builds to a weirdly emotional climax in which a Safdie hero finally has a different perspective on what it means to “win,” even if he probably still hasn’t. Available Dec. 25
in theaters. (R)

Song Sung Blue **1/2

Real lives are messy and not easily shapeable into narratives, which is why sometimes a fictionalized adaptation of a documentary probably should have remained a documentary. Greg Kohs’ 2008 non-fiction feature becomes writer/director Craig Brewer’s interpretation of the story of Mike Sardina (Hugh Jackman) and Claire Stengl (Kate Hudson), a pair of Milwaukee-area part-time musicians circa 1996 who fall in love and form a creative partnership as “Lightning and Thunder” performing a Neil Diamond “experience” tribute act. Brewer sets the stage for the challenging lives that make us want to root for these dreamers—Mike a recovering-alcoholic Vietnam veteran, Claire a single mom with a history of depression—and he certainly finds crowd-pleasing moments in the way Mike and Claire come alive while on stage interpreting Diamond’s classics, and in their biggest improbable wins intermingled with one big life-changing tragedy. Hudson also turns in a particularly wonderful performance, mastering her Wisconsin twang and both extremes in Claire’s personality. The story, unfortunately, doesn’t have the same juice when the songs aren’t playing, and oversimplifies the timeline of the main characters’ lives in order to provide a tidier, more heartstring-tugging conclusion. The many real-life threads it needs to incorporate distract from the idea of working-class folks finding purpose in their avocation—a thematic idea that might have been easier to convey if this weren’t an adaptation of a documentary. Available Dec. 25 in theaters. (PG-13)

This article contains spoilers for the Season 1 finale of Apple TV’s “Pluribus.”

Fellow misanthropes, Season 1 of “Pluribus” is done. Now what do we do, other than lean into our usual harsh judgment and mistrust of others?

Our spirit series left us wondering who or what will put the final nail in humanity’s collective coffin: an alien virus or a malcontent with an atomic bomb. As for saving everyone? Cranky protagonist Carol Sturka (Rhea Seehorn) struggled to find ways to preserve the human race for much of the series, but by the finale, she was fairly convinced that the planet would be better off without us.

For those of you who haven’t kept up with the best show on television this year, Carol’s among 13 people left on Earth who are immune to an alien virus that’s otherwise fused all of humanity’s consciousness together into one blissful hive mind. Now everyone thinks alike and has the same knowledge base, which means TGI Fridays waiters can pilot passenger planes and children can perform surgeries. No one is an individual anymore. They simply occupy the body formerly known as Tom or Sally or whomever. “Us” is their chosen pronoun.

This army of smiling, empty vessels just wants to please Carol — until they can turn her into one of them. Joining them will make her happy, she’s told. It’s a beautiful thing, having your mind wiped. But the terminally dissatisfied Carol would rather stew in her own low-grade depression and angst that forfeit her free will. Plus, her ire and rage is kryptonite against those who’ve been “joined.” When confronted with her anger, they physically seize up and stop functioning. Their paralyzing fear of Carol’s ire is empowering, pathetic and hilarious. The world literally comes to a standstill when she snaps. No wonder she’s my hero.

“Pluribus” comes from Vince Gilligan, the same brilliant mind behind “Breaking Bad” and “Better Call Saul.” The Apple TV series is nothing like his previous successes except that it’s set in Albuquerque, stars Seehorn and is singularly brilliant. And like those other seminal dramas, it plumbs deeper questions about how we see ourselves, who we really are and who we strive to be.

To be fair, Carol was irritated by the human race long before the alien virus converted them into worker bees. She was convinced most people were sheep — including those who loved the flowery writing and cheesy romance plots of her novels. But the the total loss of a free-thinking community isn’t all that satisfying, either.

In the finale, she connects with Manousos Oviedo (Carlos-Manuel Vesga), a fellow survivor who’s also immune to the virus. He wants nothing to do with the afflicted, no matter how peace-loving they appear. In the before times, it appears he was a self-sufficient loner. Postapocalypse, he travels all the way from Paraguay to meet Carol after he receives a video message from her. He drives most of the way before arriving at the treacherous Darién Gap, where he’s sidelined after falling into a thorny tree — but “they” save him, much to his chagrin. He eventually continues the journey, via ambulance.

Now saving the human race is up to two people who never had much love for it in the first place. They converse through a language translation app, which makes their arduous task all the more complicated — and hilarious.

Multiple theories have sprung up around what “Pluribus” is really about. One prevailing thought is that “the joining” is a metaphor for AI creating a world where all individual thought and creativity are synthesized into a single, amenable voice. Surrender your critical thinking for easy answers, or in the case of “Pluribus,” an easy life where you’ll never have to make a decision on your own again. Most humans would rather be a doormat than a battering ram, regardless of the urgency or circumstance.

Optimists might say, “Why pick one extreme or the other? There’s surely a place in the middle, where we can all live in harmony while holding onto our opinions and sense of self.” That’s sweet. Carol and I heartily disagree given the arc of history and all.

Just how my favorite new antihero will deal with her disdain for the Others is yet to be seen. Save the world or destroy it? We’ll all have to wait until next season to find out. Until then, “Pluribus” just needs some space.

Josh Safdie’s “Marty Supreme” arrives with all the energy and confidence of an aspiring athlete – even one of the table tennis variety. 

The film is packed with vivid period detail and striking cinematography that brings 1950s New York to life. On a purely technical level, the movie succeeds. It’s visually inventive, rhythmically paced and often laugh-out-loud funny.

The plot is also engaging, moving at a fast pace to keep up momentum for over two hours. Safdie builds a world where table tennis is more than a game; instead becoming a stage for obsession, ego and ambition. Even as the story dips further and further into chaos, the narrative stays entertaining and unpredictable enough to keep audiences invested.

But as strong as the filmmaking is, the movie’s impact is limited by its abrasive lead. Timothée Chalamet’s Marty Mauser is undeniably watchable, yet consistently unlikable. His selfishness, impulsive decisions and willingness to steamroll everyone around him creates a major disconnect between Mauser and the audience.

Chalamet’s performance is committed and his intensity drives several of the film’s most engaging scenes. Still, it is difficult to root for a character who rarely shows the vulnerability or growth needed to anchor a story this ambitious. For many viewers (myself included), that emotional detachment will shape the entire experience.

The film’s tone may also catch audiences off guard. For a movie centered on table tennis, “Marty Supreme” is extraordinarily vulgar. Its R rating is well earned, with explicit sexual content, coarse language and several violent scenes that land with surprising force. From consensually dubious spanking scenes to Holocaust jokes, the film more than toes the line between bold and unsettling. The contrast between the lightness of the sport and the heaviness of the film’s content is intentionally jarring, but the shock factor can overshadow the story’s strengths.

Even so, “Marty Supreme” remains a compelling watch. Safdie’s direction is inventive, the pacing is tight and the supporting cast (including Gwenyth Paltrow and Tyler, The Creator) bring welcome depth to the film’s darker impulses. 

The result is a movie that is engaging and frequently funny – but also brash and not particularly easy to love.

Whether viewers leave impressed or unsettled will depend on their tolerance for its unlikable hero and its unexpectedly graphic approach. For all its craft and confidence, “Marty Supreme” is the kind of film that invites debate and, for some, a fair amount of discomfort.

If nothing else, it proves that a table tennis movie can surprise you – for better and for worse.

“Marty Supreme” is set for a public release on Dec. 25, with specific times varying by theatre. If you are interested in attending a showing, consider taking advantage of discounted AMC tickets, available for reservation through the Center for Leadership and Engagement here at Simmons.