Movie Reviews
Breaking (2022) – Movie Review
![Breaking (2022) – Movie Review Breaking (2022) – Movie Review](https://wwwflickeringmythc3c8f7.zapwp.com/q:i/r:0/wp:1/w:1/u:https://cdn.flickeringmyth.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/breaking-john-boyega.jpg)
Breaking, 2022.
Co-written and directed by Abi Damaris Corbin.
Starring John Boyega, Michael Okay. Williams, Nicole Beharie, Olivia Washington, Selenis Leyva, and Connie Britton.
SYNOPSIS:
A Marine battle veteran faces psychological and emotional challenges when he tries to reintegrate again into civilian life.
Abi Damaris Corbin’s function debut is a textbook instance of a movie that seemingly has all the appropriate substances for a stone chilly basic – particularly vital material and an awesome solid – however can’t fairly nail essentially the most important components. In consequence, this based-on-true-events hostage thriller feels a contact too programmatic and scattershot to land with blistering impression, regardless of boasting a bevy of high-quality performances.
Initially of Breaking, former U.S. Marine Brian Brown-Easley (John Boyega) walks into an Atlanta department of the Wells Fargo financial institution and explains to one of many tellers that he has a bomb, earlier than instructing them to name 911. Brian’s demand? For a lacking incapacity cost to be deposited into his checking account by the Division of Veterans Affairs. The lacking cost, a seemingly bureaucratic snafu, implies that Brian is unable to even afford cellphone credit score to talk to his daughter, and leaves him hours away from being kicked out of the lodge he’s dwelling in.
Now, nearly any financial institution heist/hostage film of this type goes to be in comparison with the topped king of the style, Canine Day Afternoon, and whereas the 2 circumstances are certainly very completely different, Brown-Easley’s situation is at the very least a equally morally ambiguous one.
Certain, he’s placing the remaining teller (Selenis Leyva) and the financial institution’s supervisor Estel (Nicole Beharie) by means of hell, however it is a man left hanging on the finish of his rope by a authorities and a society that desires to thank him for his service and ship him swiftly away. The movie’s title refers back to the lacking cost of $892, which whereas maybe not a mass of cash to many, typifies the broader subject of Brian not being afforded essentially the most primary impression of value and dignity.
Brian being a Black man clearly layers a serious racial part onto the battle; when he speaks to the 911 dispatcher, one among their first questions fairly predictably regards his race. On high of the stress over whether or not or not Brian will detonate the bomb, audiences even have to worry concerning the very clear risk that he will probably be killed by the police, a truth he’s conscious about from the outset. Had been Brian white we would think about his rapid concern of being shot by a sniper extreme – and, in equity, Brian is clearly affected by debilitating psychological well being – however such is the dearth of regard with which Black lives are held by so many.
Stockholm Syndrome is principally a trope of the hostage film at this level, although Breaking explores a really completely different sort of identification per the dynamic between Brian and financial institution supervisor Estel. The latter, a strong-willed Black girl who desperately needs to depart the financial institution and be reunited along with her son, nonetheless empathises with Brian, feeling guilt over the numerous struggling individuals she herself has needed to reject for monetary assist. However she desperately implores Brian to not make himself one other useless Black particular person she must protect her son from studying about.
After which there’s Brian’s interactions with Eli Bernard (Michael Okay. Williams), a Black hostage negotiator who expresses a legit need to see Brian come out of this alive slightly than change into one other race statistic.
On high of all this, there’s the media circus, and although Canine Day Afternoon‘s indictment stays well-aged immediately, it’s up to date right here by exploring the stress between the media and the police to manage the scenario, and likewise briefly contact on the means by means of which such conditions are disseminated within the social media age. With Fb and Twitter granting unfiltered immediacy that TV merely can’t, we’re now not hunched over CNN when these kinds of situations unfold.
This all provides as much as a reliable piece of labor, however one which’s additionally somewhat inventory in the way it handles its main themes. Slicing busily between the financial institution, the newsroom, and Brian’s household typically feels perfunctory, and a tighter therapy saved extra intently throughout the financial institution’s 4 partitions may’ve felt extra visceral. There are additionally a number of moments of tried levity the mileage of which can seemingly fluctuate amongst audiences, particularly two weird references to the X-Males, and a girl calling the financial institution mid-siege to inquire about her 401K.
But even when it hits its most acquainted notes, we now have John Boyega, whose portrayal of a world-weary man begging to be revered by the establishments supposed to guard him is extraordinarily affecting. Boyega’s efficiency is volcanically intense from the soar, boiling with rage as he insists, “I’m gonna die due to human error.” In one other model of this story such a portrayal may look like overacting, however that white-hot, indignant fury is a positive cathartic scream into the void for a whole class of individuals left behind by the federal government.
The supporting solid additionally turns in high-quality work; Nicole Beharie is splendidly pissed off as Estel, summing the scenario up completely when she asks the authorities, “How lengthy does it take to place cash into a person’s account?” The late Michael Okay. Williams in the meantime makes one among his closing display screen appearances as negotiator Eli, arriving to perk the film up in its second act simply because it reveals the primary indicators of flagging.
It’s not a flashy function by any means, however for an actor who has performed so many larger-than-life characters, it’s nice to see his calming presence put to such impressed use; his over-the-phone interactions with Boyega are directly entertainingly jovial and agonisingly tense.
All in all, it is a solidly made film that may’t at all times get out of its personal technique to let the story’s full energy take maintain. Although the unsettling climax is executed effectively, a very cutesy body narrative ingredient – involving Brian speaking to his daughter – feels misplaced and on-the-nose, and finally ends up undercutting what’s a crushing closing title card revelation.
Regardless of the worthiness of the subject material, Breaking by no means fairly transcends its procedural filmmaking, although John Boyega’s fiery efficiency packs a mighty punch.
Flickering Fantasy Ranking – Movie: ★ ★ ★ / Film: ★ ★ ★
Shaun Munro – Observe me on Twitter for extra movie rambling.
![](https://newspub.live/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/np-logo.png)
Movie Reviews
‘Martha’ Review: R.J. Cutler Tries to Get Martha Stewart to Let Down Her Guard in Mixed-Bag Netflix Doc
![‘Martha’ Review: R.J. Cutler Tries to Get Martha Stewart to Let Down Her Guard in Mixed-Bag Netflix Doc ‘Martha’ Review: R.J. Cutler Tries to Get Martha Stewart to Let Down Her Guard in Mixed-Bag Netflix Doc](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/Martha_00044009_01191620.jpg?w=1440&h=810&crop=1)
From teenage model to upper-crust caterer to domestic doyenne to media-spanning billionaire to scapegoated convict to octogenarian thirst trap enthusiast and Snoop Dogg chum, Martha Stewart has had a life that defies belief, or at least congruity.
It’s an unlikely journey that has been carried out largely in the public eye, which gives R.J. Cutler a particular challenge with his new Netflix documentary, Martha. Maybe there are young viewers who don’t know what Martha Stewart‘s life was before she hosted dinner parties with Snoop. Perhaps there are older audiences who thought that after spending time at the prison misleadingly known as Camp Cupcake, Martha Stewart slunk off into embarrassed obscurity.
Martha
The Bottom Line Makes for an entertaining but evasive star subject.
Venue: Telluride Film Festival
Distributor: Netflix
Director: R.J. Cutler
1 hour 55 minutes
Those are probably the 115-minute documentary’s target audiences — people impressed enough to be interested in Martha Stewart, but not curious enough to have traced her course actively. It’s a very, very straightforward and linear documentary in which the actual revelations are limited more by your awareness than anything else.
In lieu of revelations, though, what keeps Martha engaging is watching Cutler thrust and parry with his subject. The prolific documentarian has done films on the likes of Anna Wintour and Dick Cheney, so he knows from prickly stars, and in Martha Stewart he has a heroine with enough power and well-earned don’t-give-a-f**k that she’ll only say exactly what she wants to say in the context that she wants to say it. Icy when she wants to be, selectively candid when it suits her purposes, Stewart makes Martha into almost a collaboration: half the story she wants to tell and half the degree to which Cutler buys that story. And the latter, much more than the completely bland biographical trappings and rote formal approach, is entertaining.
Cutler has pushed the spotlight exclusively onto Stewart. Although he’s conducted many new interviews for the documentary, with friends and co-workers and family and even a few adversaries, only Stewart gets the on-screen talking head treatment. Everybody else gets to give their feedback in audio-only conversations that have to take their place behind footage of Martha through the years, as well as the current access Stewart gave production to what seems to have been mostly her lavish Turkey Hill farmhouse.
Those “access” scenes, in which Stewart goes about her business without acknowledging the camera, illustrate her general approach to the documentary, which I could sum up as “I’m prepared to give you my time, but mostly as it’s convenient to me.”
At 83 and still busier than almost any human on the globe, Stewart needs this documentary less than the documentary needs her, and she absolutely knows it. Cutler tries to draw her out and includes himself pushing Stewart on certain points, like the difference between her husband’s affair, which still angers her, and her own contemporaneous infidelity. Whenever possible, Stewart tries to absent herself from being an active part of the stickier conversations by handing off correspondences and her diary from prison, letting Cutler do what he wants with those semi-revealing documents.
“Take it out of the letters,” she instructs him after the dead-ended chat about the end of her marriage, adding that she simply doesn’t revel in self-pity.
And Cutler tries, getting a voiceover actor to read those letters and diary entries and filling in visual gaps with unremarkable still illustrations.
Just as Stewart makes Cutler fill in certain gaps, the director makes viewers read between the lines frequently. In the back-and-forth about their affairs, he mentions speaking with Andy, her ex, but Andy is never heard in the documentary. Take it as you will. And take it as you will that she blames prducer Mark Burnett for not understanding her brand in her post-prison daytime show — which may or may not explain Burnett’s absence, as well as the decision to treat The Martha Stewart Show as a fleeting disaster (it actually ran 1,162 episodes over seven seasons) and to pretend that The Apprentice: Martha Stewart never existed. The gaps and exclusions are particularly visible in the post-prison part of her life, which can be summed up as, “Everything was bad and then she roasted Justin Bieber and everything was good.”
Occasionally, Stewart gives the impression that she’s let her protective veneer slip, like when she says of the New York Post reporter covering her trial: “She’s dead now, thank goodness. Nobody has to put up with that crap that she was writing.” But that’s not letting anything slip. It’s pure and calculated and utterly cutthroat. More frequently when Stewart wants to show contempt, she rolls her eyes or stares in Cutler’s direction waiting for him to move on. That’s evisceration enough.
Stewart isn’t a producer on Martha, and I’m sure there are things here she probably would have preferred not to bother with again at all. But at the same time, you can sense that either she’s steering the theme of the documentary or she’s giving Cutler what he needs for his own clear theme. Throughout the first half, her desire for perfection is mentioned over and over again and, by the end, she pauses and summarizes her life’s course with, “I think imperfection is something that you can deal with.”
Seeing her interact with Cutler and with her staff, there’s no indication that she has set aside her exacting standards. Instead, she’s found a calculatedly imperfect version of herself that people like, and she’s perfected that. It is, as she might put it, a good thing.
Movie Reviews
Reagan Is Almost Fun-Bad But It’s Mostly Just Bad-Bad
![Reagan Is Almost Fun-Bad But It’s Mostly Just Bad-Bad Reagan Is Almost Fun-Bad But It’s Mostly Just Bad-Bad](https://pyxis.nymag.com/v1/imgs/191/afd/c29a986144336e39edf1ea310d979113fd-reagan-review.1x.rsocial.w1200.jpg)
Dennis Quaid in Reagan.
Photo: Showbiz Direct/Everett Collection
Reagan is pure hagiography, but it’s not even one of those convincing hagiographies that pummel you into submission with compelling scenes that reinforce their subject’s greatness. Sean McNamara’s film has slick surfaces, but it’s so shallow and one-note that it actually does Ronald Reagan a disservice. The picture attempts to take in the full arc of the President’s life, following him from childhood right through to his 1994 announcement at the age of 83 that he’d been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease. But you’d never guess that this man was at all complex, complicated, conflicted — in other words, human. He might as well be one of those animatronic robots at Disney World, mouthing lines from his famous speeches.
Dennis Quaid, a very good actor who can usually work hints of sadness into his manic machismo, is hamstrung here by the need to impersonate. He gets the voice down well (and he certainly says “Well” a lot) and he tries to do what he can with Reagan’s occasional political or career setbacks, but gone is that unpredictable glint in the actor’s eye. This Reagan doesn’t seem to have much of an interior life. Everything he thinks or feels, he says — which is maybe an admirable trait in a politician, but makes for boring art.
The film’s arc is wide and its focus is narrow. Reagan is mainly about its subject’s lifelong opposition to Communism, carrying him through his battles against labor organizers as president of the Screen Actors Guild and eventually to higher public office. The movie is narrated by a retired Soviet intelligence official (Jon Voight) in the present day, answering a younger counterpart’s questions about how the Russian empire was destroyed. He calls Reagan “the Crusader” and the moniker is meant to be both combative and respectful: He admires Reagan’s single-minded dedication to fighting the Soviets. They, after all, were single-minded in their dedication to fighting the U.S., and the agent has a ton of folders and films proving that the KGB had been watching Reagan for a long, long time.
By the way, you did read that correctly. Jon Voight plays a KGB officer in this picture, complete with a super-thick Russian accent. There’s a lot of dress-up going on — it’s like Basquiat for Republicans, even though the cast is certainly not all Republicans — and there’s some campy fun to be had here. Much has been made of Creed’s Scott Stapp doing a very flamboyant Frank Sinatra, though I regret to announce that he’s only onscreen for a few seconds. Robert Davi gets more screentime as Leonid Brezhnev, as does Kevin Dillon as Jack Warner. Xander Berkeley puts in fine work as George Schultz, and a game Mena Suvari shows up as an intriguingly pissy Jane Wyman, Reagan’s first wife. As Margaret Thatcher, Lesley-Anne Down gets to utter an orgasmic “Well done, cowboy!” when she sees Reagan’s “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall” speech on TV. And my ’80s-kid brain is still processing C. Thomas Howell being cast as Caspar Weinberger.
To be fair, a lot of historians give Reagan credit for helping bring about both the Gorbachev revolution and the eventual downfall of the U.S.S.R. and its satellites, so the film’s focus is not in and of itself a misguided one. There are stories to be told within that scope — interesting ones, controversial ones, the kind that could get audiences talking and arguing, and even ones that could help breathe life into the moribund state of conservative filmmaking. But without any lifelike characters, it’s hard to find oneself caring, and thus, Reagan’s dedication to such narrow themes proves limiting. We get little mention of his family life (aside from his non-stop devotion to Nancy, played by Penelope Ann Miller, and vice versa). Other issues of the day are breezed through with a couple of quick montages. All of this could have given some texture to the story and lent dimensionality to such an enormously consequential figure. But then again, if the only character flaw you could find in Ronald Reagan was that he was too honest, then maybe you weren’t very serious about depicting him as a human being to begin with.
See All
Movie Reviews
‘Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight’ Review: An Extraordinary Adaptation Takes a Child’s-Eye View of an African Civil War
![‘Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight’ Review: An Extraordinary Adaptation Takes a Child’s-Eye View of an African Civil War ‘Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight’ Review: An Extraordinary Adaptation Takes a Child’s-Eye View of an African Civil War](https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/Don-t-Let-s-Go-to-the-Dogs-Tonight_Still_01-H-2024.jpg?w=1296&h=730&crop=1)
Alexandra Fuller‘s bestselling 2001 memoir of growing up in Africa is so cinematic, full of personal drama and political upheaval against a vivid landscape, that it’s a wonder it hasn’t been turned into a film before. But it was worth waiting for Embeth Davidtz’s eloquent adaptation, which depicts a child’s-eye view of the civil war that created the country of Zimbabwe, formerly Rhodesia — a change the girl’s white colonial parents fiercely resisted.
Davidtz, known as an actress (Schindler’s List, among many others), directs and wrote the screenplay for Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight and stars as Fuller’s sad, alcoholic mother. Or, actually, co-stars, because the entire movie rests on the tiny shoulders and remarkably lifelike performance of Lexi Venter — just 7 when the picture, her first, was shot. It is a bold risk to put so much weight on a child’s work, but like so many of Davidtz’s choices here, it also turns out to be shrewd.
Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight
The Bottom Line Near perfection.
Venue: Telluride Film Festival
Cast: Lexi Venter, Embeth Davidtz, Zikhona Bali, Fumani N Shilubana, Rob Van Vuuren, Anina Hope Reed
Director-screenwriter: Embeth Davidtz
1 hour 38 minutes
Another those smart calls is to focus intensely on one period of Fuller’s childhood. Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight is set in 1980, just before and during the election that would bring the country’s Black majority to power. Bobo, as Fuller was called, is a raggedy kid with a perpetually dirty face and uncombed hair, who’s seen at times riding a motorbike or sneaking cigarettes. She runs around the family farm, whose run-down look and dusty ground tell of a hardscrabble existence. The film was shot in South Africa, and Willie Nel’s cinematography, with glaring bright light, suggests the scorching feel of the sun.
Much of the story is told in Bobo’s voiceover, in Venter’s completely natural delivery, and in another daring and effective choice, all of it is told from her point of view. Davidtz’s screenplay deftly lets us hear and see the racism that surrounds the child, and the ideas that she has innocently taken in from her parents. And we recognize the emotional cost of the war, even when Bobo doesn’t. She often mentions terrorists, saying she is afraid to go into the bathroom alone at night in case there’s one waiting for her “with a knife or a gun or a spear.” She keeps an eye out for them while riding into town in the family car with an armed convoy. “Africans turned into terrorists and that’s how the war started,” she explains, parroting what she has heard.
At one point, the convoy glides past an affluent white neighborhood. That glimpse helps Davidtz situate the Fullers, putting their assumptions of privilege into context. Bobo has absorbed those notions without quite losing her innocence. Referring to the family’s servants, her voiceover says that Sarah (Zikhona Bali) and Jacob (Fumani N. Shilubana) live on the farm, and that “Africans don’t have last names.” Bobo adores Sarah and the stories she tells from her own culture, but Bobo also feels that she can boss Sarah around.
Venter is astonishing throughout. In close-up, she looks wide-eyed and aghast when visiting her grandfather, who has apparently had a stroke. At another point, she says of her mother, “Mum says she’d trade all of us for a horse and her dogs.” When she says, after the briefest pause, “But I know that’s not true,” her tone is not one of defiant disbelief or childlike belief, as might have been expected. It’s more nuanced, with a hint of sadness that suggests a realization just beyond her young grasp. Davidtz surely had a lot to do with that, and her editor, Nicholas Contaras, has cut all Bobo’s scenes into a sharply perfect length. Nonetheless, Venter’s work here brings to mind Anna Paquin, who won an Oscar as a child for her thoroughly believable role as a girl also who sees more than she knows in The Piano.
The largely South African cast displays the same naturalism as Venter, creating a consistent tone. Rob Van Vuuren plays Bobo’s father, who is at times away fighting, and Anina Hope Reed is her older sister. Bali and Shilubana are especially impressive as Sarah and Jacob, their portrayals suggesting a resistance to white rule that the characters can’t always speak out loud.
Davidtz has a showier role as Nicola Fuller. (The movie doesn’t explain its title, which hails from the early 20th century writer A.P Herbert’s line, “Don’t let’s go the dogs tonight, for mother will be there.”) Once, Nicola shoots a snake in the kitchen and calmly wanders off, ordering Jacob to bring her tea. More often, Bobo watches her mother drift around the house or sit on the porch in an alcoholic fog. But when her voiceover tells us about the little sister who drowned, we fathom the grief behind Nicola’s depression. And wrong-headed though she is, we understand her fury and distress when the election results make her feel that she is about to lose the country she thinks of as home. Davidtz gives herself a scene at a neighborhood dance that goes on a bit too long, but it’s the rare sequence that does.
There is more of Fuller’s memoir that might be a source for other adaptations. It is hard to imagine any would be more beautifully realized than this.
-
Connecticut1 week ago
Oxford church provides sanctuary during Sunday's damaging storm
-
Technology1 week ago
Breakthrough robo-glove gives you superhuman grip
-
Politics1 week ago
2024 showdown: What happens next in the Kamala Harris-Donald Trump face-off
-
News1 week ago
Who Are Kamala Harris’s 1.5 Million New Donors?
-
Politics1 week ago
Trump taunted over speculated RFK Jr endorsement: 'Weird as hell'
-
Politics1 week ago
Vivek Ramaswamy sounds off on potential RFK Jr. role in a Trump administration
-
World6 days ago
Portugal coast hit by 5.3 magnitude earthquake
-
Politics1 week ago
House GOP demands elite universities counteract 'dangerous' anti-Israel protests in the fall semester