God's Not Dead 2

Year: 2016
Genre: Courtroom Drama
Directed: Harold Cronk
Stars: Melissa Joan Hart, Jesse Metcalfe, David A.R. White, Ray Wise, Robin Givens, Ernie Hudson, Hayley Orrantia, Maria Canals-Barrera, Fred Dalton Thompson, Trisha LaFache, Pat Boone, Paul Kwo, Benjamin A. Onyango
Production: Pure Flix Entertainment

God's Not Dead 2 follows an ensemble cast (some old, some new), all flung into the sticky tendrils of a flimsy courtroom drama surrounding a history teacher and her answer to a contentious classroom question. Because Ms. Wesley (Hart) had the temerity, the gall, nay the malicious, impudent daring to draw parallels to Martin Luther King Jr. and Jesus Christ, the public school, teachers union, local government, and the ACLU are all out for blood. Will Ms. Wesley be able to continue professing her faith? Will she lose her job? Will Reverend Dave (White) finally be able to start his car? And did Tituba really see Goodie Proctor with the devil?

...probably.

Okay let's dissect this bloated corpse of a movie by first highlighting the good parts. Director Harold Cronk has sure learned a lot since 2014 though some of the elevated crane shots and glossy establishing scenes may have something to do with a bigger budget. His ability to manipulate his audience to well up in a flurry of sanctimonious pride and self-adulation is not to be underestimated. Thankfully, God's Not Dead 2 doesn't outright vilify atheists and doubters like it's prequel; in-fact one of our heroes, scrappy attorney Tom Endler (Metcalfe) is an agnostic who doesn't become a convert by the end credits. Also as far as acting goes, returning cast member Paul Kwo is given much more to do than be a walking Asian stereotype. He exhibits a sincerity we never saw before and one can't help but think if the movie were about him, it'd be a hundred times better. Then there's Melissa Joan Hart who truth be told is a much better central figure than Shane Harper, who's pious college freshman was more weaselly than anything.

Yet what the movie gets wrong, it gets very wrong; starting with it's representation of a legal system gone rogue. While confusing and conflating basic legal concepts like "precedent" and "discovery" and "logic", the film nevertheless aims its sights on drumming up accusations of religious persecution while playing to the very tired culture war cliches we've gotten sick of twenty years ago. Much like the film's predecessor, God's Not Dead 2 isn't based on any specific case of religious persecution. It's more cobbled together out of a few lower court cases taken out of context and those dubious Facebook posts your angry Uncle from Omaha wishes were true but aren't. In a side story, returning character, actual producer and Keystone Kops impersonator David A.R. White has to turn in three years worth of notes on his sermons to the government because of...reasons. While doing so he confronts a grotesque bureaucratic flunky who warns him in an exchange so over-the-top you'd swear the movie was hinting at a vast Atheistic conspiracy.

Of course you could always persecute someone else

In response to the film being called an example of "fake persecution" by an Atheist blogger, White stated, “It’s an interesting thing, because, if it wasn’t real, why do they get so offended by it...I don’t think it would annoy people if it wasn’t true.” Of course if we followed that logic every teething toddler at a Dennys would be considered a sage. Religious persecution is a big deal worldwide as explicitly stated when Reverend Jude (Onyango) warns Martin of his plan to preach the gospel in Communist China. Despite Christianity being the largest religious doctrine in the world, Christians are harassed, discriminated against and oppressed in many places all over the world. And yes it does sometimes happen in the good 'ol US of A though despite some limitations you can still express your religion at home, school, work, church, billboards, park benches, television, radio, magazines and newspapers. Why cheapen a very real problem with a false conceit? Especially one even committed Atheists and the ACLU would side with the plaintiff.

Thankfully the main takeaway in God's Not Dead 2 is something most people can get behind; we shouldn't stifle religion nor any exchange of ideas or perspectives, even in something as revered (or in this case vilified) as the hallowed halls of a public school. That message is certainly a cut above God's Not Dead's (2014) all Atheists are whining children who never got what they wanted for Christmas. With a door wide open for yet another sequel to this drivel, I honestly would rather hear the rabble in Inherit the Wind (1960) sing "Give Me That Old Time Religion" in a loop for two hours.

Final Grade: F

Essentials: Dirty Rotten Scoundrels

Year: 1988
Genre: Comedy
Directed: Frank Oz
Stars: Steve Martin, Michael Caine, Glenne Headly, Anton Rodgers, Barbara Harris, Ian McDiarmid, Dana Ivey, Meagen Fay, Frances Conroy
Production: Orion Pictures

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is the sordid tale of two confidence men who bump into each other on the French Riviera and place an exorbitant wager on a mark. The first, Lawrence Jamieson (Caine) fancies himself a bit of a dandy. He's carved an opulent lifestyle for himself on the shores of Beaumont-Sur-Mer and would like his sleepy little town to stay that way. The second con-artist, Freddy Benson (Martin) is an unctuous but ambitious trickster who came to town hoping to learn from Lawrence but has since had second thoughts. He's the type of guy you'd see at a dog track, hustling for a good $20 here and there. Their mark; a naive nymph named Janet (Headly) introduced to the two as America's Soap Queen.

Written by Dale Launer and based on the TV movie Bedtime Story (1964), the film was originally meant to be a starring vehicle for the affable David Bowie and Mick Jagger of Rolling Stones fame. If you close your eyes and listen carefully you can hear Bowie's droll intonations underneath Caine's yachtsman inflections. This is not to say Caine is unsuited for the role. Quite the contrary; Caine's star power, silent dignity and "up-for-anything" attitude brings to mind an old-guard acting sensibility channeling Alec Guinness in his prime. Being the straight man to one "Wild and crazy guy" is hard enough but to do so with effortless class is a downright miracle which the great Michael Caine pulls off.

The previous year's Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987) saw Steve Martin transitioning from his goofy, ironically infused brand of comedy, to the sullen but lovable rube role he used to coast through the 90's. Improvising much of his lines and energetically bouncing off the walls, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels is seen by many as his final hurrah. A ham at his most acclaimed, Martin falls into a caboodle of eccentric characterizations, Prince Ruprecht being the most entertaining. He's an absolute comic gem, a permanent fixture in the comedic firmament and this film is Exhibit A to all the naysayers who saw The Pink Panther (2006) and thought he's not all that.

If Howard Hawks thought every great film is three great scenes and no bad ones, then Dirty Rotten Scoundrels certainly fits the bill. There are in fact three scenes so astoundingly funny that it'd be easy to miss some of the subtler gags hidden in the quieter moments. What's more, each scene (both good and great) are natural extensions of the characters and play with our assumptions of where the film will ultimately lead us. Leave it to director Frank Oz to find moments of glee in the sophisticated halls of a ritzy Casino or the marble mezzanine of a Mediterranean villa.

Of course this film is not without it's faults including most egregiously an outdated attitude towards women. Glenne Headly certainly holds her own against our two leading cads, and sure she does sneak in her own counter-plays, but when Lawrence refers to women as "the weaker sex," you can't help but feel the screenplay means that. In one scene Martin poses with a gaggle of bikini-wearing models at the beach. It's rumored in the European release those same models were topless and when the women were ordered to undress Oz referred to himself feeling like "the most powerful man in the world."

Can you believe we gave them the right to vote?

I wouldn't challenge anyone who dislikes this film for that reason, though, for me, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels has enough gut-busting laughs to overcome most of it's transgressions. Very few comedies deliver the goods as often and with such voracity as this film does. The film has since been turned into a live stage musical. While I cannot speak for it's quality I can say the casting of John Lithgow and Broadway legend Norbert Leo Butz should be enough to make you curious about the original winner.

Final Grade: A

Immortals

Year: 2011
Genre: Action Adventure
Directed: Tarem Singh
Stars: Henry Cavill, Mickey Rourke, Stephen Dorff, Frieda Pinto, Luke Evans, John Hurt, Joseph Morgan, Isabel Lucas, Steve Byers, Daniel Sharman
Production: Relativity Media

Action-adventure films are like fast food, they may be tasty but they have very low nutritional value. Immortals is a White Castle crave case full of 3D chaos and set piece soigne.

The plot (if I can use such a word) concerns itself with Hellenic peasant Thesesus (Cavill) who along with being the most attractive pauper in his cliff dwelling village is also pretty handy with a spear. After seeing his mother killed at the hands of King Hyperion (Rourke), he seeks vengeance while trying to stop Hyperion's quest for world domination via freeing the Titans from their imprisonment. Luckily Theseus has the Gods on his side as well as an attractive oracle played by Frieda Pinto.

Mickey Rourke arguably had the toughest acting challenge of his career in this film; attempting to appear menacing dressed like a cross between a "Mad Max" marauder and the Rabbit of Caerbannog. Freida Pinto who is as beautiful and disrobed as ever simply has little to do besides spouting exposition and Henry Cavill who tries his hardest is betrayed by a lacking script. Other supporting cast members, Stephen Dorff, Luke Evans, John Hurt and Isabel Lucas fare much worse having to play forgettable and disposable characters while wearing an assortment of increasingly silly head gear.

Director Tarsem Singh who previously directed The Cell (2000) and The Fall (2006) has had a history of visually ambitious yet vapid films. "Immortals" continues that trend offering some pretty neat visuals and good use of 3D technology. The fight scenes while occasionally redundant never cease to loose the interest of the viewer, even if they occasionally induce unintended laughter.

Their is a certain audience for films like Immortals. You know who you are and no doubt won't take heed to any of my criticisms. But for those who were intrigued by the words "from the makers of 300 (2006)" yet aren't motivated by blood lust, here are some words for ware.

Final Grade: F

Pierrot le Fou

Year: 1965
Genre: Black Comedy
Directed: Jean-Luc Godard
Stars: Jean-Paul Belmondo, Anna Karina, Graziella Galvani, Jean-Pierre Leaud, Dirk Sanders, Georges Staquet, Laszlo Szabo, Roger Dutoit, Samuel Fuller
Production: Films Georges de Beauregard

Director Jean-Luc Godard has always been a baffling and enigmatic figure to yours truly. Considered one of the most important figures in film history, Godard's reputation doesn't help when many a film student sits down to watch Breathless (1960) for the first time. While I have only seen three of his films, each one showcases the talent of an artist, very purposely engaging with his audience in new and interesting ways. While his projects may be alienating to most, you have to admit his imagery sticks with the viewer long after the credits roll. Whether it be the shuttered, moody apartments of Alphaville (1965) or the extended chaos of the "carmageddon" in Weekend (1967), there's just something both literate and literal that immerses the curious mind to play along if only to see where he's going.

Pierrot le Fou is said to be one of Godard's last early-career masterpieces, before going off the radical deep-end. It brings to the screen the auteur's wry suspicion towards bourgeois complacency, an eye towards the garish, and an almost giddy sense of humor. French star Jean-Paul Belmondo plays Ferdinand the Pierrot (roughly translated to Ferdinand the sad clown). Unhappy with his trite existence as an obedient husband, doting father and successful ad man, Pierrot runs away with his mistress Marianne (Karina). The two make their way to the south of France, borrowing and stealing their new found life from those absent enough to be taken advantage of. Meanwhile the two are being chased by a duo of mobsters who are hoping to recover money the couple have stolen.

The film is very roughly based on the novel "Obsession" by Lionel White. Known for stylized pulp fiction, Lionel White's book is about as American as Pierrot le Fou is French. The book is straight-forward, the film is eclectic; the film is intellectual in nature, the book satisfies baser instincts. We've seen this kind of uneasy cross-cultural pollination in many of Godard's work from Breathless hero Michel sporting a Bogart-esque fedora to the Dick Tracy comic-strip pop permeating through Alphaville. In the case of Pierrot le Fou, Godard's love of American iconography is most obvious with a very brief cameo by American auteur Samuel Fuller.

As with all of Godard's work, the specifics of the plot are not important or entirely necessary. It is the mode to which the director makes the themes of his story clear. The first thing that grabs the viewer's attention is the color. Pierrot le Fou is Godard's first feature-length color film. In it, he uses a triadic palette to add a layer of pop art sensibility. Almost everything in the film is drenched in loud pigments of red and blue making the entire film resemble a live-action cartoon. Only instead of inviting the viewer into it's colorful world, it purposely alienates you.

Godard increases this alienation with elliptical almost Lynch-ian editing and constant character asides that are often political in nature. In one cringe-worthy scene the young Anna Karina yabbers and tongue-clicks while wearing Vietnamese yellow-face to entertain a group of American sailors. While the scene aptly lampoons the Vietnam conflict, it does so in such an aggressively buffoonish way that even audiences of the time likely would have looked on with puzzlement. Then there's the collage-like structure of the film itself, which often goes on long tangents on mass media, socialism, pop culture, violence and the cinematic art form. It's all quite fascinating and Godard wisely infects his high art concepts with a lowbrow sense of humor. The balance reaches a boisterous crescendo when Marianne and Pierrot ditch their car in a mock wreckage...then the film continues for another hour.


Out of all the film's I've seen by the master of the Nouvelle Vague, Pierrot le Fou is the best work I've seen, though I'm not sure it's because Godard is an acquired taste or it's truly a better film. It's certainly filled to the brim with awe-inspiring visual ideas and influential storytelling techniques that have become common among the American film intelligentsia. Godard's imaginative use of wordplay, puns and portmanteaus adds yet another layer of sophistication that upon repeated viewings (and a rudimentary understanding of French) can make anyone smirk with satisfaction. Pierrot le Fou is also the director's most accessible film, though certainly not a movie for novices.

Yes I know that sounds pretentious.

Final Grade: C+

The Lower Depths

Year: 1936
Genre: Drama
Directed: Jean Renoir
Stars: Jean Gabin, Louis Jouvet, Suzy Prim, Jany Holt, Vladimir Sokoloff, Junie Astor, Robert Le Vigan, Camille Bert, Rene Genin, Paul Temps, Robert Ozanne, Henri Saint-Isle
Production: Films Albatros




A funny thing happened on the way to WWII. In the midst of the Great Depression, hard-nosed political leftists all around Europe found themselves in a panic over the rise and consolidation of power of Nazi Germany. While Hitler was quietly rounding up Socialists and Communists all across the Rhineland, the French artistic intelligentsia found themselves utterly agog with the Russian economic and social experiment. The news had not yet sunk in that Stalin's Russia was just as dysfunctional, but what artists like Jean Renoir and Maximilen Luce did know was exiled socialist writer Maim Gorky had been accepted by Stalin to much fanfare in 1932. Perhaps as a form of unification, Renoir directed Gorky's play "The Lower Depths" to the screen.

The Lower Depths stars Jean Gabin as Pepel a miscreant who lives in a flophouse, in a crime-infested neighborhood by the Maine River. He plans to rob the Baron (Jouvet), an almost defiantly casual nobleman with a penchant for high-stakes gambling. When Pepel enters the Baron's home, the Baron finds him and tells him because of his debts, he's in-fact just as poor as the would-be thief. After multiple run-ins with each other and the law, the two develop a friendship the grows as a love triangle at the flophouse threatens to consume Pepel.

The love triangle involves Pepel, the landlord Kostylev (Sokoloff) his wife Vassilissa (Prim) and Natasha (Astor), Vassilissa's sister. Within the confines of the flophouse the pieces of class struggle are set with Natasha promised to a slovenly police inspector to further complicity of the tragic events to society at-large. The Baron stands outside of the proceedings, absorbing everything though too engrossed with the measly card games of shacks denizens to pay too much mind. Unlike in Gorky's play, where the Baron seems uncomfortable wallowing in poverty, here the Baron  seems liberated. He has no care for the material trappings of his former title. He just wants to distract himself with gambling.

Distraction seems to be a reoccurring theme in The Lower Depths. Many characters, instead of becoming disheartened by their situation, take heart with distractions such as cooking, gambling, idle entertainment, lofty unrealistic ambitions and religion. Vassilissa insists that "one day, everything will be ours." Meanwhile Pepel sits idly inattentive to her disillusions. At another point an elderly couple at the flophouse proclaim a Christian faith to Pepel disgust. "When we believe we make it real," says the man before resting on his hardwood bed.

Within that scene we get a glimpse into director Jean Renoir's inner thoughts. Unlike Gorky or other proponents of the French Popular Front, Renoir was not a moralist. As he's made plain in later films such as Le Grande Illusion (1937) and The Rules of the Game (1939) he's an excellent observer of human behavior. The Lower Depths proves to be his most pessimistic film but as with all true models of poetic realism, there's still a tiny slimmer of hope.

The Lower Depths is Renoir's most accessible comedy/drama providing some interesting insights into human behavior and some excellent acting on the part of Jean Gabin and Louis Jouvet. While some of the humor is a little dated and Junie Astor's performances as Natasha is a vapid as one can see on screen and still not mind, the film is nonetheless a great example of French film during the Golden Age of Hollywood.

Final Grade: A-

Harakiri

Year: 1962
Genre: Samurai Epic
Directed: Masaki Kobayashi
Stars: Tatsuya Nakadai, Akira Ishihama, Rentaro Mikuni, Shima Iwashita, Tetsuro Tanba, Masao Mishima, Ichiro Nakatani, Kei Sato, Yoshio Inaba, Hisashi Igawa, Toru Takeuchi, Yoshiro Aoki
Production: Shochiku Eiga

American ethos has always had a soft-spot for the conscientious objector. We're a nation of fervent individualists and everything from the writings of Mark Twain to the film 12 Angry Men (1957) codifies that idea. The power of an individual against a torrent of common corruption and blind group-think is almost fetishized, especially in contemporary society. The Japanese, generally speaking, don't have such a provocative streak of individualism embedded in their culture. So it's interesting that one of the most eloquent and austerely beautiful films on the subject should come from the land of the rising sun. Harakiri is a repudiation of the collective values of Japan that, on its best days unites a population in tragedy and at its worst marches a people towards war.

Hanshiro Tsugumo (Nakadai) is an aging and embittered samurai whose feudal lord has died in battle along with most of his men. In order to reclaim his honor, according to the bushido code, Tsugumo must disembowel himself in a ritual suicide known as seppuku. To do this he arrives at the feet of Saito Kageyu (Mikuni) and asks members of the Iyi daimyo to help him do the ceremony correctly. Kageyu is hesitant as only a few days ago a similar request was made by another ronin who had no intention of committing seppuku but was looking to extort the clan for money. After Kageyu retells the man's tale, which culminates in the ronin dying by the blade of a bamboo sword, Tsugumo insists his intentions are to die with honor. Yet as the pavillion where the deed is to be done is setup, questions remain. What is Tsugumo's connection to the earlier ronin? Why did he pick the courtyard of the Iyi clan out of all others? Finally does he really intend to reclaim his honor, or is there something else going on?

Told in a dizzying array of flashbacks and flash-forwards, Harakiri is not a leisurely movie to watch while folding laundry. It demands the attention of the viewer and weaves a complex tale of Hanshiro Tsugumo's home life after the fall of his clan. He's stricken with the most dire poverty, contemplating his daughter's (Iwashita) sale as a concubine and working menial jobs just to get by. His daughter, son-in-law Motome (Ishihama) and infant grandson Kingo are his only solace from a life of dishonor. Their fates become intimately intertwined with Tsugumo and the Iyi clan in unexpected ways and paying close attention to the plot pays off stunningly in the end.

In his own quiet and ultimately unsettling way director Masaki Kobayashi strips away the nobility and romanticism commonly associated with feudal Japan. While doing so he implicates the modern audience (at the time the Japanese public circa 1962) in tolerating authoritarianism under the guise of honor. Harakiri recalls and parallels the days of Japanese imperialism and uses a single individual as a means to take apart the misplaced hubris of anyone still beholden to the old guard. Kobayashi himself was drafted in the army during WWII but repeatedly refused promotion beyond that of a private; his own way of fighting corruption, hypocrisy and evil.

The film comes to a conclusion so damning and memorable that I dare not ruin the satisfaction of watching it for the first time. Harakiri is an absolute treasure featuring a star turn by Nakadai who first made an indelible mark on Japanese screens in Kobayashi's The Human Condition Trilogy (1959-1961). Here, while playing a character much older than himself, he still has a certain inner-turmoil that channels James Dean with a strong baritone. Finally there's Kobayashi's masterful direction which watches pensively and almost perversely as the jigsaw pieces fall in place.

Final Grade: A-

Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice

Year: 2016
Genre: Superhero Film
Directed: Zack Snyder
Stars: Ben Affleck, Henry Cavill, Amy Adams, Jesse Eisenberg, Diane Lane, Laurence Fishburne, Jeremy Irons, Holly Hunter, Gal Gadot, Scoot McNairy, Callan Mulvey, Tao Okamoto
Production: Warner Bros.

Wow was this movie a disappointment. Well maybe disappointment is the wrong word to use. After all, the tone set by Man of Steel (2013) kind of made this putrid pile of bloated, ubermensch meat an inevitability. What started as a lot of sound and fury signifying nothing, has turned into discordant, atonal symphony of angry, overbearing, joylessness; with costumed crusaders limping to the barn in lockstep towards franchise suicide...signifying nothing. We as a collective anonymous mass of superhero gushing sycophants put this upon ourselves. So feast your eyes on the remains that is Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice, consider the three years you waited for this mess and weep.

Dear God, why?

The story starts two years after the events of Man of Steel which turned the Metropolis tri-county area into a parking lot. Bruce Batfleck Wayne (Affleck) had many people at Wayne Enterprises parish in the devastation, which, is clumsily retold in flashback with Wayne driving like a maniac to the building to do...what exactly? Angry over Superman's continued existence, Batman vows revenge with a scheme that Alfred (Irons) believes is a suicidal and wrongheaded mission. Meanwhile Gollum, I mean Lex Luthor (Eisenberg) wants to turn Superman (Cavill) into a smudge on the ground because of...reasons. Thus he connects the dots concerning the effects of Kryptonite and imports it from remnants of the doomsday machine on the other side of the world (if you haven't seen the first film you will be lost).

If you watch this film, you'll be lost.

That is about as much as I can say without getting into spoilers lest to say the story gets much, much, much more moronic from there. The script seems to have been assembled by boardroom meetings with toy manufacturers and DC Extended Universe shills who are trying oh so hard but failing to repeat the mega success of Marvel. Everyone in the first act speaks in trailer speak; a creole of English, empty platitudes and ominous prognostications though thankfully, the score helpfully fills in the meaning behind the dialogue with overbearing noise. When the plot is not bending over backwards to steer every doofus in a cape towards each other, there are crushing setups to other upcoming franchise movies so forcefully dropped, you'd swear director Zack Snyder was just outside of frame muttering "yeah, you like that don't you b***h!" And need I even mention Snyder's oppressive use of allegory and extended dream sequences as a counterfeit shorthand for "brilliant social commentary?"

But let's assume you're not too concerned about the story. After all while genre highlights like The Dark Knight (2008) and Spider-Man 2 (2004) were cleverly scripted morality tales with subtext, the main takeaway you got from those movies was "oh wow look at that." Does a movie about two of the biggest names in superherodom duking it out truly deliver on the match set up in the title? No, no it doesn't. The overuse of choppy editing, violent shaky-cam and badly rendered CGI distracts and disorients, giving the audience no account of space, the physical strength of our two heroes or the various do-dads Batman uses to slow down his opponent.

Can I please be put in a better franchise?

Furthermore the main characteristics behind our two heroes' mythology, the ones that made them interesting characters to begin with are left completely out. Without getting into too much detail, Batman is portrayed as a much older reactionary who instead of flirting with jingoism and torture becomes straight up fascistic. Meanwhile Superman's romance with Lois Lane (Adams), which arguably is the best part of the All-American hero's milquetoast character arc, is colder than a dead fish. Lois is constantly shoehorned into a plot that quite frankly doesn't need her, other than to give Clark Kent the occasional side-eye. Even as a damsel in distress Amy Adams, by all accounts a great actress, seems to be in zombie mode.

There are three showstopping performances that I feel the need to highlight. First, Jeremy Irons does a fine job as Alfred whose humor not only injects the film with much needed mirth but unintentionally gives the film a pernicious meta-text concerning spandex wearing insanity. Secondly there's Jesse Eisenberg who's depiction of Lex Luthor is a big, fat f**k you to DC Comics, Warner Bros., Greek origin myths, young tech billionaires and lukewarm ice tea; to say nothing of the various fanboys likely to flambe his performance like a cherry jubilee. Those looking for a villainous portrayal that rivals John Leguizamo's Clown in Spawn (1997) by sheer camp factor; look no further.

Bet you're missing this guy right about now aren't you?

The last showstopping performance I want to highlight is Michael Shannon's nuanced take on General Zod's rotting corpse. While only on screen for a brief moment, he stands as a stoic and subtle representation for this rancid, turgid, simpering, ill-conceived, badly executed excuse for a tent-pole movie. This unwarranted assault on the eyes should be renamed Remnants of the Justice League V. The People. At least then you'll know what you're getting into.

Final Grade: F

Memphis

Year: 2013
Genre: Docudrama
Directed: Tim Sutton
Stars: Willis Earl Beal, Constance Brantley, Larry Dobson, Devonte Hull, Lopaka Thomas
Production: Kino Lorber

I have been writing movie reviews off and on for over ten years. Sifting through a collection of older reviews it's amazing to see how my thought processes have changed over time. There was a point when I truly believed that a good film needed to be a source of decent entertainment first. After all, what good is a narrative if it doesn't convince you of its world and engross you into the foibles of its characters. As I have gotten older and seen my fair share of challenging films that dare to alter and/or, God forbid, throw out narrative structure, I can say with little doubt that my previous assertions were absolutely false. A great movie doesn't need to satisfy our baser instincts and simply be entertaining. It certainly helps but it's not the end-all-be-all point of all movies in existence. Some movies are repulsive by design, some are so creatively off-kilter as to be subjective, while others still are purposely boring.

Memphis and other movies like it, makes me wonder about being on the opposite end of this entertainment vs. art paradigm. At what point can one put any critical weight on the idea of boredom, especially when that boredom is part of the filmmaker's intent? The film Memphis follows Willis Earl Beal (who plays himself), as he wonders the dilapidated abodes, churches and nightclubs of the titular city while struggling with a musical mental block. He's said to have a God given gift of song, yet his new found success as a blues singer has alienated him from his inspirations thus he wonders the streets largely muttering to himself.

If you like Memphis, You'll love this film

Director Tim Sutton has a rare eye for finding the forlorn Gothic beauty and simmering spirituality behind one of America's most culturally significant cities. Much like Jim Jarmusch's Mystery Train (1989), the grimy, left-for-dead city is given a lackadaisical reverence that forgoes it's most famous landmarks for boarded up windows and filthy screen doors. The film was largely shot in Orange Mound, a neighborhood of Memphis said to be among the poorest in the nation but nonetheless has a proud history of African-American affirmation. Blues lived and died in the steamy back alleys of Orange Mound and every non-actor in this film carries that on their shoulders with a sense of pride.

All except Willis Earl Beal who seems to have come out of nowhere. Despite Tim Sutton's insistence that Beal is a bonafide Blues singer, the man carries himself like a carnival barker feigning genuine-article realness. He seems all to willing to act the part instead of being the part. I suppose for a micro-budget independent film you can't fault him too hard for amateurish acting but instead of channeling Muddy Waters he channels Marcello Mastroianni's performance in 8 1/2 (1963), a character who prides himself on facade not authenticity.

Seriously, we're following this guy?

The film carries itself much like the halcyon waters of the Mississippi; listlessly trailing Beal as he goes from a TV studio, to his home, to a church he seldom attends, to a suburb and finally to the forest. It's a slow meditative and ultimately exhausting hike that brings to mind Jace Clayton's "The Quietest Place" art assignment on youtube. Some may find the jaunt downright frustrating and not even worth the film's brief run time. I personally saw tiny flashes of Andrei Tarkovsky and Kar-Wai Wong encrusted in the silt but Memphis didn't live up to such lofty ambitions.

That said I'm glad young enterprising filmmakers like Sutton have any ambitions at all; other than stumbling into the directing chair of Marvel's latest glorified serial. Yes this film will test your patience and yes some may find this prosaic travelogue much too pensive to endure. It came down to the wire for me, saving itself by the skin of a few confidently made shots and a killer soundtrack.

Final Grade: C-

Daughters of the Dust

Year: 1991
Genre: Family Drama
Directed: Julie Dash
Stars: Cora Lee Day, Adisa Anderson, Alva Rogers, Kay-Lynn Warren, Kaycee Moore, Cheryl Lynn Bruce, Tommy Hicks, Bahni Turpin, Barbara-O, Umar Abdurrahamn, Cornell Royal, Trula Hoosier
Production: American Playhouse

Daughters in the Dust is one of those rare movies that truly makes you wonder long and hard about the possibilities of the film form. The film as pure narrative leaves much to be desired; yet it's is not concerned about telling the intricate and sentimental goings-on of one or two human beings; a single tale told in one moment in time. No, the film's scope is much wider and anthropological in scale, thus requires more than just a passing judgment on its entertainment value.

The film concerns itself with the Peazant family; proud members of Gullah creoles who originated from slaves traded along the remote islets of South Carolina and Georgia. Even before the Civil War generations of the Gullah people lived quietly as rice farmers on these islands and thanks in large part to regional isolation they were able to rebuild and retain much of the linguistic, cultural and religious heritage that had been wiped out by the slave trade. By 1901, the Peazants are mulling over the idea of relocating to the mainland.

The film has the narrative distinction of being told from the perspective of an unnamed and unborn member of the Peazants played by Kay-Lynn Warren. At only four, the young Warren peeks through the hole of her family's history only appearing twice herself as a sprite. We meet her pregnant mother Eula (Rogers), her aunts Haagar (Moore), Viola (Bruce) and Yellow Mary (Barbara-O) as well as Nana (Day) the matriarch of the family. Nana is old enough to remember the scourge of slavery and as a result is resonant to move to the mainland. Meanwhile Haagar is the strongest advocate for the move saying "If Nana wants to live and die on this island, then God bless her old soul." Two members of the clan have already moved away; Viola who moved to Philadelphia to become a ardent Christian; and Yellow Mary, who according to Viola is a "wasted woman".

Despite showcasing a family hungry for change and progress, the film gives proper reverence to the traditions of the Gullah people. The most respected people on the island are the elders who consist of Nana and Bilal Muhammad (Abdurrahman) the resident mullah. The spiritual ceremonies of the family relies on a mixture of Christianity, Islam and African animism that gives everything natural around them a lyrical quality. Yet underneath the pleasant depictions of sun-soaked beaches and marshy lowlands the internal conflict behind the eyes of the Peazants can't help but surface during communal gatherings. "We are two people in one body," says Nana as she defies the rest of the family who hope to travel north with their hopes and dreams.

If there is one glaring problem with Daughters of the Dust it's its expectations of the viewer. During production director Julie Dash wanted to keep the authenticity of the people intact and thus had actors speak only in the Gullah dialect and didn't consider subtitles. A minority of audience members may find this tact a mesmerizing exercise in linguistics. A feeling not unlike hearing the warm familiar sounds of your parents speaking while you were a toddler. From a purely anthropological perspective this was the best narrative choice one could hope for, allowing those with patience further rewards with repeated viewings. Unfortunately if you're not one of patience or a strong interest in anthropology or etymology you might find yourself distracted and looking for other stimuli.

There are many ways to read a movie of this nature. Most movies start and end with a graspable narrative, quick and easy explanations to plot details and an clear resolution. Daughters of the Dust doesn't let you off the hook with easy solutions. It instead asks serious questions. Questions that highlight the consequences of modernity's encroachment on tradition, cultural identity, cross-generational turmoil and diaspora. Furthermore the movie gives willing audiences a sense of belonging among the Gullah people; a warmth you seldom feel on the screen. It also does so in a very spirited and exquisite way featuring some of the most lyrical visual storytelling $800,000 can buy.

Final Grade: C

Thoughts from the Usher Podium: Politics in Perspective

I'm making an unusual change from the regular litany of gross and insulting pot-shots I usually take at sub-par movies (don't worry Batman v Superman I'll get to you soon). I would instead like to focus on politics for an all-too-brief moment. This will probably be the only time I'm going to say anything overtly political so please bare with me as I try to make one very important point. Yes I know every media source from cable, Twitter, Buzzfeed, AM radio, magazines, your local 7 PM newscast and your uncle's very angry Facebook feed has been gushing to the brim with presidential year vitriol. The overwhelming attention this particular election is getting over literally every other newsworthy event on the planet is enough to make you want to tear your hair out. Yet underneath all the doomsday forecasts that quite literally follows every single major party candidate there seems to be something even darker and dumber percolating and threatening to make our challenging but by no means insurmountable problems even worse. Yes I'm talking about the Great American Non-voter.

These people...

On face value, the disengaged masses who cry foul over money in politics, government corruption, substandard candidates and inept policies have a point. Add to that, the general minutia of our republican system and the thought of one's minuscule impact in comparison to the rest of the voting populous, is it any wonder so many are turned off? In the grand scheme of things your vote amounts to very little so why wait in a long line being corralled by elderly volunteers who managed to turn on only one working voting machine? Well as with everything in this life, the answer to such a loaded question is much more complicated than you'd think. The best way I can boil down a very complex problem to the easily absorbed bumper sticker narrative we're all used to I say: GROW UP! I know, not particularly illuminating so let me explain.

Seriously people WTF!!

Of course the money in politics is corrosive, of course politicians don't always vote in your best interest, of course this year's crop of headline chasing, myopic, vainglorious narcissists aren't the best you could hope for; but you know what? Just like a sewer, what you put into it is more or less what you get out of it. Where were you when the your State quietly got rid of waiting periods for handguns? Where were you when your city passed a sanctuary law for illegals? Where were you during the midterms? Where were you when (insert pet problem you're angry about here) happened? I'm not going to sit here and tell you if you don't vote you have no right to complain but I do think it's a little immature to whine about how this country is going to hell in a hand-basket without proposing and championing a solution.

Your constituency on movie night

But none of that matters I hear you cry. I have no control over X,Y and Z! That's a lie but let's put it into plain terms you may understand strawman I completely made up for this article. I want you to imagine all the people who set the rules for what you can and cannot do on a daily basis. Of course you have the folks who represent the law in some way; the President, Congressmen, the cop who gave you that speeding ticket. But let's go beyond the rules written on parchment. You got your boss, your family unit, your neighborhood association, your church, synagogue, mosque or temple. All are institutions that inform, or have a say in what you and how you do it. Now ask yourself, how much impact do you have in the decision-making processes in all these institutions? Can you make change happen at work or at church? Can you influence your friends and family when it comes to what movie to watch? Of course you can it just depends on how much effort you want to put into it.

Say what you want about these people,
at least they're rallying for something

Voting truth be told is the least one can do to actively participate and thus actively improve on their community. You want to see real change you can hope for; join a political party, write a letter to your Congressman, join a political action group, start a recycling program at work, plant a tree,volunteer, start a business, read a book, protest something! There are quite literally hundreds of ways a person can make a noticeable difference that doesn't involve a ballot box. The biggest problem I have with Non-voters isn't their concerns which are valid; it's their indifference to those same concerns.

It'd be fine if they didn't vote but still actively participate in something vaguely communal. I've been told not voting can be seen as a form of protest against an oppressive system, though I fail to see how effective that tactic is. Yet more often than not I find that those who don't vote are the same people who complain bitterly about how awful their lives are while doing nothing to actually improve their station. They're the classic fat guy sitting on the couch eating Fritos all day complaining about how they can't loose weight. If you truly think the system is f***ed do something about it!

I hate to imbue this article with allusions to Nazis as that rhetorical cliche is about as overused as a gym sock in an all male boarding school, but in this case I'll make an exception. British historian and world leading Hitler authority Ian Kershaw once wrote "The road to Auschwitz was built by hate, but paved with indifference." I see this indifference all the time in everyone from the dude in his 40's whose read Ayn Rand one too many times to the disengaged hipster who sees her aloofness as somehow above it all. Don't elevate disengagement as a point of pride for yourself. There are plenty of people who fight for a seat at the table, don't just walk away because you don't like the meal.