The revelatory biodoc Ella Fitzgerald: Just One of Those Things traces the life of the jazz icon.
It opens with the Harlem teenage dancer who was an eyewitness to Ella’s 17-year-old public debut at the Apollo Theater’s Amateur Night in 1934. We learn of Ella’s rocky childhood, with the traumas that led her to being incarcerated as a juvenile delinquent and becoming homeless in Harlem. We see the arc of her career, with the initial mentorship of bandleader Chick Webb and the later guidance of producer Norman Grantz.
Her son, Ray Brown, Jr., is on hand to reveal Ella’s family side (with photos of mom pitching to son, both in Dodgers gear).
One of the Ella Fitzgerald: Just One of Those Things‘ highlights is a never-broadcast interview in which Ella makes clear her views on race, American racism and civil rights. Markedly clear-eyed, it’s all the more powerful because of Ella’s gentle demeanor.
A Must See for jazz fans, Ella Fitzgerald: Just One of Those Things is reverential and by-the-numbers, but it is well-sourced and insightful. It opens June 26 in the Roxie Virtual Cinema.
Lyndon B. Johnson, one of American history’s larger-than-life characters, finally comes alive on the screen in the HBO movie All the Way. Bryan Cranston (Breaking Bad, Trumbo) is the first actor who captures LBJ in all his facets – a man who was boring and square on television but frenetic, forceful and ever-dominating in person. All the Way traces the first year in LBJ’s presidency, when he ended official racial segregation in America with the Civil Rights Act of 1964.
LBJ was obsessed with gaining and keeping political power, and he was utterly ruthless and amoral about the means to do that. His tools of persuasion included deceit, flattery, threats, promised benefits and horse-trading. He was equally comfortable in playing to someone’s ideals and better nature as well to one’s vanity or venality. In All the Way, we see one classic moment of what was called “the Johnson treatment”, when LBJ looms over Senator Everett Dirksen, and it becomes inevitable that Dirksen is going to be cajoled, intimidated or bought off and ultimately give LBJ what he wants.
LBJ was so notoriously insincere that one of the joys of All the Way is watching LBJ tell completely inconsistent stories to the both sides of the Civil Right battle. Both the Civil Rights proponents (Hubert Humphrey and Martin Luther King, Jr.) and the opponents (the Southern Senators led by Richard Russell) must determine whether LBJ is lying and to whom. Each of them must make this calculation and then bet his own cause on his perception of LBJ’s real intentions.
But LBJ amassed power for two reasons – he needed to have it and he needed to do something with it. Along with the LBJ’s unattractive personal selfishness and the political sausage-making that some may find distasteful, All the Way shows that Johnson did have two core beliefs that drove his political goals – revulsion in equal parts to discrimination and poverty. We hear references to the childhood poverty that led to the humiliation of his father, to the plight of the Mexican schoolchildren in Cotulla, Texas, that he mentored as a young man, and his outrage at the discriminatory treatment suffered by his African-American cook Zephyr.
Bryan Cranston brilliantly brings us the complete LBJ – crude, conniving, thin-skinned, intimidating and politically masterful. Besides Cranston’s, we also see superb performances by Melissa Leo as Ladybird, Anthony Mackie as MLK, Bradley Whitford as Hubert Humphrey and Frank Langella as Richard Russell.
All the Way is remarkably historically accurate. It does capsulize some characters and events, but the overall depiction of 1964 in US history is essentially truthful. As did Selma, All the Way drills down to secondary characters like James Eastland and Bob Moses. We also see the would-be scandal involving LBJ’s chief of staff Walter Jenkins, a story that has receded from the popular culture. Vietnam is alluded to with a reference to the Gulf of Tonkin incident, which is fitting since Vietnam grew to become LBJ’s nemesis and the national obsession only after the 1964 election.
All the Way was adapted from a Broadway play for which Cranston won a Tony. LBJ’s 1964 makes for a stirring story, and All the Way is a compelling film. You can stream it from HBO GO, Amazon’s HBO Now, iTunes, YouTube and Google Play.
Cynthia Erivo in HARRIET. Photo courtesy of Focus Features.
I first watched the trailer for Harriet askance because the Harriet Tubman action figure I saw on-screen didn’t resemble the tiny, revered Tubman in the sepia photos. But that is because of my own skepticism of Hollywood history and my own woeful ignorance of the historic Tubman. The ancient lady in her photos and the historic Tubman are explained in this fine NYT piece Harriet Tubman Facts and Myths: How the Movie Tried to Get it Right. As Harriet’s director Kasi Lemmons says in this NYT article, “You don’t have an image of what she was like when she was actually doing this work in her late 20s, when she was this young superheroine, this completely badass woman.”
Harriet is good history. The problem is that Lemmons doesn’t trust us to appreciate Tubman’s heroism when we see it – a 100-mile solo escape from slavery, guiding 75 escaped slaves to freedom with the Underground Railroad, leading troops into battle to free 700 more in the Civil War, and becoming a thought leader in the abolitionist and suffragist movements. So we have this swelling music every time Tubman does something inspirational. The constant, obvious beatification is distracting.
Tubman is played with convincing intensity by Cynthia Erivo. Erivo was absolutely the best thing about the Steve McQueen film Widows; since Erivo’s character teamed with those played by Viola Davis, Michelle Rodriguez and Elizabeth Debicki, the fact that she stole the movie is impressive. Erivo is a Broadway musical actress/singer, and Harriet uses her singing talent as well.
If you’re not expecting great cinema, you’ll appreciate this important and compelling history. Harriet makes it clear why Tubman belongs on the twenty dollar bill.
Roy Cohn (center) in WHERE’S MY ROY COHN? Credit: Photo by Henry Burroughs/AP/REX/Shutterstock. Courtesy Sony Pictures Classics.
Where’s My Roy Cohn? is Matt Tyrnauer’s superb biodoc of Roy Cohn – and is there a more despicable public figure in America’s 20th Century than Cohn? Has there been a more shameless hypocrite? A bully more cruel? A crook more craven?
It would be accurate but unhelpful to say that Roy Cohn didn’t invent scorched earth tactics, like saying that Hitler didn’t invent genocide. Cohn and his proteges certainly popularized what Bill Clinton called “the politics of personal destruction”.
I can’t remember ever before quoting movie publicity materials, but I can’t improve on this trenchant description of Cohn’s legacy from Sony Pictures Classics:
“Cohn formulated his playbook in the 50s, but it is all too familiar today: always attack; never admit blame or apologize; use favors and fear to ensure support for your objectives; expertly manipulate the media to gain advantage and destroy your opponents; lie shamelessly, invalidating the idea of truth; weaponize lawsuits; evade taxes and bills; and, most importantly, inflame the prejudices of the crowd by scapegoating defenseless people.”
Cohn’s central role in McCarthyism is well known, as is his role as a storied, self-promoting fixer (or legal terrorist) in the 1970s and 1980s. More recently, Cohn’s formative mentorship of the young Donald Trump has come to light.
Roy Cohn and Donald Trump in WHERE’S MY ROY COHN? Courtesy Sony Pictures Classics.
In Where’s My Roy Cohn?, Tyrnauer provides us with less well-known revelations. Cohn’s cousins and his longtime boyfriend are key witnesses. We learn about Cohn’s father, who exposed him to the seamy world of a political machine, and Cohn’s mother, from whom Cohn seems to inherited his ruthlessness. There’s an absolutely jaw-dropping anecdote about how far Mrs. Cohn would go to avoid interrupting her Seder. And there’s the important story of his Uncle Bernie’s financial ruin and public disgrace, which seems to have taught Cohn all the wrong lessons. Tyrnauer also brings us Cohn’s wresting control of the Lionel Train company from family members. And there’s an “insurance fire” on Cohn’s Florida yacht, which resulted in a homicide.
Cohn was the chief henchman leading Joseph McCarthy’s Lavender Scare to persecute LGBTQ Americans in public and military service. The famous Army-McCrthy hearings were sparked by Cohn’s seeking favorable treatment for David Schine, Cohn’s assistant and the object of his infatuation, as they cavorted across US bases in Europe, making life hellish for American gay soldiers. Despite a legendary reputation for same-sex encounters and relationships, Cohn always denied being gay himself or having AIDS, of which he died.
And, for good measure, one of his cousins also pegs Cohn as a self-loathing Jew.
There are also clips of Cohn on The Late Late Show with Tom Snyder. (Man, I haven’t thought of Tom Snyder in decades.) In one clip, Cohn defines “tough” as “vicious”, and says that his clients “buy scare value”.
Why spend almost two hours with Roy Cohn? Because Roy Cohn’s story is important to our understanding of 20th Century American history and of our current public culture.
Where’s My Roy Cohn? played at the Mill Valley Film Festival and opens in Bay Area theaters this weekend.
Love & Mercy, the emotionally powerful biopic of the Beach Boys’ Brian Wilson, is the true life story of an extraordinarily gifted person facing three monsters. Wilson is a musical genius, one of the great songwriting, arranging and producing talents of his century. But his art and his very survival were tested by his tormentors until unselfish love found him an escape route to treatment, and, ultimately, his salvation.
In his first feature as a director, veteran producer Bill Pohlad chose to depict two phases of Wilson’s life, with Wilson played by Paul Dano and John Cusack.
The first monster is Wilson’s father Murry (Bill Camp), an abusive father whose adult sons still fear after they have fired him as their manager. What kind of father needs to belittle and sabotage his sons so he doesn’t have to acknowledge that their success surpasses his own? Brian Wilson is deaf in one ear from his father’s punches, but the psychological scars are even more deeply felt.
The second monster is Brian’s own schizoid affective disorder, a condition causing auditory hallucinations. Brilliantly, Pohlad has chosen to let the audience hear what Brian hears. This can be thrilling in moments of musical inspiration. And, of course, it is terrifying most of the time.
The third monster is charlatan psychologist Dr. Eugene Landy (Paul Giamatti), a Svengali-like manipulator, who over-medicates Brian, then confines him, while controlling and watching his every move. Landy leeches off Brian’s fortune and is ruthlessly protective of his racket.
Murry and Landy are so scary that Beach Boy Mike Love, known to be (and portrayed here as) a colossal jerk, almost seems sympathetic by comparison.
In the younger Dano segments, we see Brian at his creative peak, emotionally tortured by Murry and about to be driven into a breakdown by his condition. In the middle-aged Cusack parts, we see Brian, broken down by his illness, utterly helpless against and captive to Landy’s web of control.
Dano shows us Brian’s vulnerable genius. Cusack shows us Brian as gentle and genuine. The story of Love & Mercy is about how he escapes being under the thumb of his monsters, chiefly from the perspective of Melinda Ledbetter (Elizabeth Banks), the woman who would become his second wife. As good as are Dano and Cusack, Banks is absolutely stellar; her character must continually react to the unpredictability of Brian’s illness and the increasing horror of Landy’s tyranny.
From the beginning, Love & Mercy sweeps us up into the highs and lows of Brian Wilson’s life – and it’s a helluva life. Love & Mercy is one of the Best Movies of 2015 – So Far. Watch the end credits all the way to the end.
Love & Mercy is available on DVD from Netflix and Redbox and streaming from Amazon Instant Video, iTunes and Vudu.
Viceis the comic biopic of Dick Cheney by writer-director Adam McKay (The Big Short). Cheney is played by a physically transformed and unrecognizable Christian Bale.
McKay’s take is that Cheney’s driving motivation and genius is the accumulation and exercise of power – to whatever end and by whatever means. McKay also sees Cheney as a mediocre slacker molded and fueled by Lynne Cheney (Amy Adams), whose own ambitions were limited in the 1960s by her gender. So, this is a tale of ruthless grasping along the lines of Macbeth or House of Cards, only mostly non-fiction.
McKay drops in the horrifying real impacts of Cheney’s exercise of power, but this is mostly a very funny movie. Donald Rumsfeld, Cheney’s mentor in power-grabbing, and George W. Bush, Cheney’s stooge, are played for laughs in very broad performances by Steve Carell and Sam Rockwell. McKay also tosses in a funny faux ending and has Dick and Lynne, in bed for the night, erupt in Shakespearean dialogue. Jesse Plemons plays a fictional Everyman narrator.
Bale’s performance is extraordinary, and goes well beyond the impeccable impersonation, down to every Cheney mannerism – stoneface, sneer and grunt. Adams is excellent as his Lady Macbeth. So is the rest of the fine cast, especially Alsion Pil as lesbian daughter Mary, Tyler Perry as Colin Powell and Shea Whigham as Lynne Cheney’s probably murderous father.
Vice is pretty good history, biography from a sharp point of view and a damn entertaining movie.
Left to right: Steve Coogan as Stan Laurel, John C. Reilly as Oliver Hardy, Photo by Nick Wall, Courtesy of Sony Pictures Classics
In Stan & Ollie, Steve Coogan as Stan Laurel and John C. Reilly as Oliver Hardy deliver remarkable portraits of a partnership facing the inevitability of showbiz decline. An iconic movie comedy team, Laurel and Hardy made 107 films, including 23 features. Their run started in 1926 and made the transition into the sound era more successfully than their peers in silent comedy. But by 1945, their popularity was over, and most of Stan & Ollie is set in 1951, when they are trying to rekindle their careers with a British live tour.
Coogan and Reilly’s impersonations (and Reilly’s makeup) are impressive. However, the most interesting aspect to Stan & Ollie is the depiction of the partnership, which like any partnership, is unequal and complementary; each individual has a different personality and a different role. Together, their act was so seamless that we forget that the two, one English and the other from Georgia, were veteran professionals already in their mid-thirties when they hooked up. Hardy was bossy on-screen, but Laurel was the business and creative leader of the team.
In a flashback (during the 1937 filming of Way Out West), we see the two at the height of their career arc. That sets us up to watch the two manage struggle and disappointment later on.
The technical highlight of the Coogan and Reilly performances is a dead-on re-creation of Stan and Ollie’s dance in front of an Old West saloon in Way Out West, a dance which is comic perfection; it’s worth finding Way Out West for the original version of the dance, which is much longer. My own favorite Laurel & Hardy film is the 1933 Pre-Code Sons of the Desert, where the duo mislead their wives to sneak off to the rowdy convention/drinkfest of the titular fraternal organization.
As usual I’ve embedded the trailer for you, but I recommend not watching it if you’re going to see Stan & Ollie – it gives too much away.
Friday, May 18, you can see Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story on PBS’ American Masters. This is the riveting biopic of a glamorous movie star who invented and patented the precursor to wireless technology; that’s amazing enough, but Bombshell delves deeply into how Lamarr’s stunning face, her Jewish heritage, and mid-century gender roles shaped her career, marriages and parenting. Top notch.
In the last few years, one totally unexpected aspect of Lamarr’s life has become more well-known. She was a tinkerer/inventor who co-invented a radio guidance system for submarine torpedos, which she donated to the US military. The US Navy used this technology in WW II. Modern blue tooth technology stems directly from her innovation. Today her patent would be worth billions.
Bombshell adds layer upon layer to this tale of beauty and brains, as it traces Lamarr’s remarkable life. Hedy Lamarr had no control over being born a woman, being born to Jewish parents and being born to be a beauty. These three accidents of birth set the parameters of her journey – granting her access to some professional opportunities and stunting others, even threatening her life.
She burst into celebrity – and notoriety – at age 19, as the star of the film Ecstasy. Not only was Hedy the first actress filmed in full frontal nudity, she was the first screen actress to portray female orgasms. She was soon the young trophy wife of an Austrian industrialist, a formidable and fearsome supplier of munitions to Hitler. Hedy’s life seemed headed along the Bimbo Track, but she realized that her husband was powerful enough to keep her trapped in the marriage, but not powerful enough to protect her from the Nazis. At this point, she orchestrated an international escape that is the stuff of thrillers.
At age 24, often nominated as the most beautiful woman in the world, she launched a Hollywood career. Professional ups and downs, marriages and affairs and children followed, along with her work in technology.
Her beauty was often a blessing and sometimes a curse, but always affected her trajectory. Someone that beautiful is just different – the rest of us can’t help our reactions to her. But how many times can you be a trophy wife?
She was a person who survived troubling times, which left scars on her. How Hedy handled her Jewishness, how she raised her kids and how she was treated by the military are unsettling. Documentarian Alexandra Dean, Bombshell’s writer-director brings us witnesses, including Hedy’s children, to deliver an inside peek at a real life that would not be believable as a work of fiction.
I saw Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story last summer at the 2017 San Francisco Jewish Film Festival (SJFF). It’s playing tomorrow night on PBS’ American Masters series.
Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Storyis the riveting biopic of a glamorous movie star who invented and patented the precursor to wireless technology; that’s amazing enough, but Bombshell delves deeply into how Lamarr’s stunning face, her Jewish heritage, and mid-century gender roles shaped her career, marriages and parenting. Top notch.
In the last few years, one totally unexpected aspect of Lamarr’s life has become more well-known. She was a tinkerer/inventor who co-invented a radio guidance system for submarine torpedos, which she donated to the US military. The US Navy used this technology in WW II. Modern blue tooth technology stems directly from her innovation. Today her patent would be worth billions.
Bombshell adds layer upon layer to this tale of beauty and brains, as it traces Lamarr’s remarkable life. Hedy Lamarr had no control over being born a woman, being born to Jewish parents and being born to be a beauty. These three accidents of birth set the parameters of her journey – granting her access to some professional opportunities and stunting others, even threatening her life.
She burst into celebrity – and notoriety – at age 19, as the star of the film Ecstasy. Not only was Hedy the first actress filmed in full frontal nudity, she was the first screen actress to portray female orgasms. She was soon the young trophy wife of an Austrian industrialist, a formidable and fearsome supplier of munitions to Hitler. Hedy’s life seemed headed along the Bimbo Track, but she realized that her husband was powerful enough to keep her trapped in the marriage, but not powerful enough to protect her from the Nazis. At this point, she orchestrated an international escape that is the stuff of thrillers.
At age 24, often nominated as the most beautiful woman in the world, she launched a Hollywood career. Professional ups and downs, marriages and affairs and children followed, along with her work in technology.
Her beauty was often a blessing and sometimes a curse, but always affected her trajectory. Someone that beautiful is just different – the rest of us can’t help our reactions to her. But how many times can you be a trophy wife?
She was a person who survived troubling times, which left scars on her. How Hedy handled her Jewishness, how she raised her kids and how she was treated by the military are unsettling. Documentarian Alexandra Dean, Bombshell’s writer-director brings us witnesses, including Hedy’s children, to deliver an inside peek at a real life that would not be believable as a work of fiction.
I saw Bombshell: The Hedy Lamarr Story this summer at the 2017 San Francisco Jewish Film Festival (SJFF). It’s coming to Bay Area theaters this weekend.
The riotously funny docucomedy I, Tonya relives the tawdry story of figure skating star Tonya Harding, brought to disgrace when her supporters injured her competitor Nancy Kerrigan. Margot Robbie (significantly glammed down) is exceptional as Tonya Harding.
Harding, of course, came from scruffy working class roots in Portland. With disadvantages of class and poor education, Tonya was unequipped to navigate a world dominated by middle and upper classes. In I, Tonya, she refers to herself as a redneck and acts like trailer trash – really unapologetic trailer trash.
But I, Tonya adds another level to Tonya’s story. In I, Tonya, Tonya’s mother LaVona (Allison Janney) is more than a driven, severe stage mother – she’s unrelentingly abusive, both emotionally and physically. To make matters worse, Tonya escapes LaVona’s perpetual nastiness by running away into the arms of Jeff (Sebastian Stan) and his chronic domestic violence. At one point, Tonya reflects, “All I knew was violence“.
The beauty and effectiveness of Steven Rogers’ screenplay is that we can laugh at misadventures of these folks while deeply sympathizing with Tonya – scarred and shaped by abusive experiences. The characters all break the fourth wall and speak directly to the audience – very effective here. Rogers and director Craig Gillespie maintain a perfect balance between the laughs and the abuse – sometimes at the same time. This is the Aussie Gillespie’s best work.
Alison Janney in I, TONYA
LaVona’s spiteful bile is so extreme that it’s darkly funny. Allison Janney, who is superb as this poisonous woman, is probably America’s least vain actor. And nobody has ever had a better sense of comic timing. She made me laugh out loud the first time I saw her, in 1998’s Primary Colors, and she keeps the audience guffawing in I, Tonya.
Jeff’s friend Shawn (a brilliant Paul Walter Hauser), who “masterminds” the attack on Kerrigan, is so catastrophically stupid that he is unable to comprehend the profundity of his own stupidity. In the closing credits, we get to glimpse the real LaVona and the real Shawn.
Julianne Nicholson is excellent as Tonya’s hyper-polite coach. In a very brief role, Ricky Russert brilliantly brings out the glorious combination of panic and idiocy of “hit” man Shane Stant.
Once Tonya has been hounded by the media and suffered complete public humiliation, she faces the camera and says to the audience, “you have been my abusers“. It’s not preachy or overdone, and this brief moment is crisp and unforgettable. We have been laughing at her, but who are we to judge this survivor of family violence?
I, Tonya is captivating combination of sympathy and hilarity – and one of the year;s best films.
