A Seattle moviegoing lifestyle magazine
Julia Child might have been one of the most unlikely TV stars. At 6’3”, she would have been tall enough to play center in the WNBA (the tallest player on the Atlanta Dream in 2021 was 6’4”), she began her TV career at 51 and she wasn’t exactly the most telegenic presence. But she was a TV star and she was the world’s first TV food personality, and she was amazing. She’s also the subject of a great new documentary called Julia.
Toward the end of C’mon C’mon Joaquin Phoenix’s uncle Johnny asks his nephew: “Are you laughing or are you crying? I can’t tell.” As is the case with most of his filmography, viewers of Mike Mills’s brilliant new film would almost certainly answer with a very enthusiastic “both”.
With House of Gucci, Ridley Scott brings us another story of powerful men, tremendous wealth, and a fashion institution facing decrepitude, all shaken up by one ambitious woman. Without getting into questions of accuracy, it’s an incredibly wild ride powered by the heat of showy performances by a cast crowded with A-listers. It’s a film that’s way too big for just one review, so on the event of it’s wide release, we tried to break down our feelings about it with a little roundtable.
It’s nearly impossible, from a third party perspective, to give the full account of a man’s life. To read about him in a book, a magazine, or a newspaper, to talk to those who knew and loved him, it’s barely a caricature of the actual person; a two-dimensional facsimile. Fortunately for him and for us, director Robert Weide didn’t have to stoop to such measures to discover what made Kurt Vonnegut tick, he lived it. He met him, grew to know him, grew to love him, and over several decades’ time this film became a footnote in a friendship that would come to define him. Kurt Vonnegut: Unstuck in Time is a love letter, a friendship that would span many years, many life changes, and bring meaning to both their lives.
When we first encounter Andrew Garfield as Jonathan Larson — on a small unadorned stage, hunched behind a piano, in the throes of performing his one-man musical — someone unfamiliar with the real composer/playwright could be forgiven that the actor was overplaying his theatricality. The trademark pile of overgrown curly hair. The twitchy, broad, lightning-quick expressions that play to the last row. A voice and attitude bursting with a self-assuredness to cover a deep longing to be adored. If you don’t buy it right away, grainy video playing over the end credits will confirm to those with no memories of their own of the 1990s that rather than an exaggeration, Garfield’s portrayal is uncannily accurate. It’s an amazingly rich and well studied performance that anchors a movie musical that’s a love letter to a time, place, and an artist with enduring influence.
We see a shadowy older Egon chased by ghosts to a dilapidated farmhouse where he tries to capture the powerful spirit but fails and shuffles off this mortal coil in the process. His estranged daughter Callie (Carrie Coon) and her two kids Phoebe (McKenna Grace) and Trevor (Finn Wolfhard) are willed the dilapidated farm and all the debt that comes with it. Meanwhile, ghosts are once again reappearing in the world of the living and after discovering an old ambulance with crazy alterations (including a gunner seat and functioning proton pack), Pheobe, her new pal “Podcast”, and Trevor head out to get control of the situation. Throw in geology teacher Chad (Paul Rudd) to feed info to Phoebe info about the disturbances and you’re off on an adventure.
Watching Buttigieg seek the presidency in 2020 felt like watching someone molded from a young age to achieve greatness reaching the upper limits of their ambition. I do not mean this as a compliment. He went to Harvard and Oxford, joined the military, and became a consultant for McKinsey before entering public service and serving two terms as mayor, running for president and settling on becoming Secretary of Transportation. And at the time I’m writing this, he’s still two months away from his fortieth birthday. And he’s openly gay.
Passing (2020 | USA | 98 minutes | Rebecca Hall) Tessa Thompson and Ruth Negga bring incredible interiority to Rebecca C. Hall’s …
From the viewpoint of “Buddy” (Jude Hill), a precocious and big-hearted young boy, you’re pulled into the turmoil that was Belfast in the 1960’s. A majority of the folks living in the Republic of Ireland (the southern part of the country) consider themselves Catholic, and those in Northern Ireland (including Belfast) are Protestant, but the clash wasn’t exactly about religion, more about the politics of remaining under the umbrella of the United Kingdom (unionists in the North) as opposed to joining the rest of the country as a sovereign state (nationalists in the South). A time dubbed “The Troubles” began in the 60’s and didn’t really let up until the late 90’s (though there’s still conflict to this day); independent groups in favor of remaining with the UK along with the British army and police brought on violence in the 60’s and beyond to any Catholic (nationalist) homes, and didn’t discriminate who they attacked or hurt. It was a dangerous and scary time for any young person including Buddy, who lived on a street where both sides of the coin had been living harmoniously for as long as he could remember.
The title card calls Spencer a “haunted fable inspired by a true life tragedy”, but director Pablo Larraín films it like a straight-up psychological horror movie. It’s all low angles, alienating empty spaces, and a conspicuous number of dead pheasants.
