I dig fast cars and Matt Damon. I do not dig rooting for big stupid companies. Eh, I gave the movie a chance. Meh, I reacted.
Starts out pretty promising. Driver’s point-of-view, speeding through a race course at night. Cool. And if there has been a previous movie about the 24-hour Le Mans race, I haven’t seen it, so that’s pretty compelling. And at the very least, I finally learned to pronounce it le MON instead of le MONZ.
Damon, as real-life former driver/racecar builder Carroll Shelby, is reliably solid and likable. Christian Bale, as real-life bad-boy mechanic/driver Ken Miles, is reliably unlikable. Tracy Letts is quite believable as thick-bodied corporate blowhard Henry Ford II. And Jon Bernthal is a poor man’s Chris Messina (himself a poor man’s Dermot Mulroney) as young Lee Iacocca, Ford marketing upstart.
From what I’ve read, the story sticks pretty closely to the facts: To appeal to younger consumers, Ford wants to build a racecar. They tried and failed to purchase Ferrari, so decided to challenge the Italian auto greats at the legendary Le Mans. Iacocca recruits Shelby, who brings Miles aboard. The only real exaggeration seems to be making Ford’s Leo Beebe into a cartoonish corporate-stooge bad guy, thwarting Shelby and Miles at every… uh… turn. That caricature is unfortunate, as it hurts the movie’s overall realism.
Other problems: It’s 1957 and I blinked and it was 1965. Huh? Also, I know we’re rooting for Shelby and Miles, but Shelby often comes across as a sellout to Ford Motors, and that didn’t make me feel great. (Plus he cheats a little.) Also, too much gearhead lingo. And most damning, where there should be great drama — which we’ve seen in racing movies time and again, so it’s quite possible — there is not great drama. This is likely a failure of sticking too closely to reality. Interesting subject but not interesting enough for a 2.5-hour movie. Le Yawn.
Yes, I’ve seen Bloomfield, New Jersey’s own Joy Cleaner 18 times, not yet counting December 10 at the Pet Shop in downtown Jersey City. And yes, I am thanked in the liner notes of their new album. Oh, so I’m not objective enough to review this record? Man, you’re so jaded!
Joy Cleaner are still recognizable as the indie-pop darlings who delivered their solid 2017 debut, Total Hell. But this follow-up unveils some new tricks. Perhaps most significant is the addition of drummer/band hunk Justin Grabosky (so long, Amish dude) — a talented singer/songwriter in his own right — who contributes more intuitive playing as well as backing vocals.
The boys also prove they can capital-R Rock. Not even 30 seconds into lead track “I’ll See You at Home,” the big Cobain-esque guitar comes out, emphasizing the power in Joy Cleaner’s power pop. The mighty crunch continues in the ultra-melodic “Pink Lite,” a should-be smash hit single.
Guitarist Joey DeGroot’s bouncy rocker “Dramatization,” and later, the gentler, wind-swept “Post-Neurotic,” have been in the band’s setlist the longest, so these tunes seem like old friends to me. Continuing the band’s tradition of clever song titles, bassist Kyle Wilkerson’s “So Much for the Quiet Car” is the sort of textbook indie pop that earned the fellas a slot at the revered Athens Popfest in 2018. And Joey’s “Out on the Balcony” sounds to these ears like a modern cousin of the Fabs’ “You’re Going To Lose That Girl.”
“See Through” is jittery and catchy, while “Bad Advice” is a groover with a soaring chorus. “Phlox” is 95 seconds of urgent pop-punk complete with a quick guitar solo and feedback fadeout. The expansive, midtempo album-closer “Dyson Sphere” is not an ode to a vacuum. Rather, Dyson sphere is an astronomical term for a hypothetical shield around a star. But for Joy Cleaner, there is no such barrier. With songs as strong as these, the sky is truly the limit.
Despite the fact that all of the relevant parts of the whistle-blower’s complaint have been corroborated by other witnesses (or by the president himself), it is still vitally important that we know the identity of the whistle-blower that raised concerns about the July 25th phone call between President Trump and President Zelensky, and to allow the American people to hear him testify, for the reasons I cite below.
Maybe he (and we know it is a “he,” thank goodness) is exceptionally tall or short, for example. If he were abnormally tall and works for the CIA (how fortunate we are to know that too!) maybe he has had occasion to stand in close proximity to the president and to look down. In this case he would have been able to see that the president’s hair is a trick, and therefore he might harbor bias against the president. On the other hand, if he were unusually short, we could surmise that he has a Napoleon complex. Maybe he himself wants to be president. We’d want to know that too.
For another example, maybe we will see (and be able to judge for ourselves from the many pictures that will certainly emerge) that his teeth are not as white as they could be — as can be the case when a person has consumed a large quantity of black tea. This may suggest that the whistle-blower’s loyalties lie not with The United States, but somewhere else, like The United Kingdom.
It also may be useful to know what culture, and therefore climate, the whistle-blower’s ancestors came from. Studies have shown that cultures from warmer climates tend to eat spicy food while cultures from colder climates eat bland food. This fact would be helpful should we need to know what to feed the whistle-blower in jail or what to feed his family at the soup kitchen.
Since it is generally agreed that all government is good (local, state, federal, both within the United States and everywhere else as well), and that more government is always better than less, there is no need put in the effort to enforce the whistle-blower protections we now have. There will certainly never be another case where we need to bring dubious government actions to light. Adam Schiff, let us have the name of the whistle-blower now.
The Who — “Happy Jack” [THEME] Jonathan Richman — “Everyday Clothes” American Music Club — “Blue and Grey Shirt” Sparks — “Angst in my Pants” Cake — “Short Skirt/Long Jacket” Lisa Germano — “You Make Me Want To Wear Dresses” Yo La Tengo — “Autumn Sweater” Belle & Sebastian — “Long Black Scarf” Sharkmuffin — “Leather Gloves” Don and Dewey — “Get Your Hat” The Magnetic Fields — “Underwear” Louis Jordan & his Tympany Five — “Your Socks Don’t Match” Jimmy Hughes — “Hi-Heel Sneakers” Leonard Cohen — “Famous Blue Raincoat” Alex Chilton — “Take It Off”
Jack’s Aquarium podcast is proudly recorded in Hoboken, NJ.
When I saw that Flight of the Conchords collaborator Taika Waititi had a new movie coming out, I was excited, even if wasn’t a prequel to Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life Is Calling. He’d also done nice work on Thor: Ragamuffin, though most recently, the What We Do in the Shadows TV series did leave me a bit cold. So when this starts off on the too-silly side — look at the ridiculous Nazis, hahaha! — it felt like second-rate Python, Mel Brooks, Hogan’s Heroes. And very Wes Anderson-lite. So maybe I could Taika leave this guy?
Ah, but it was good enough to hold my attention, and by gum, the movie got better and better as it went along. We meet Jojo, young WWII-era Berliner, gleefully attending attending a Nazi Youth camp. Sam Rockwell is a hoot as the camp’s leader; Rebel Wilson as an assistant didn’t really impress. Jojo isn’t faring too well, as his compassion interferes with his Nazi rhetoric. He does keep receiving pep talks from his imaginary friend, Adolf Hitler (Taiki himself, mostly hilarious).
Back at home, we meet Jojo’s mom, Scarlett Johansson, who knows her sweet little boy is still inside that small uniform. She has a couple of really nice scenes. And when Jojo learns of an Anne Frank-esque situation going on in his home, his loyalties slowly start to turn.
Stephen Merchant shows up in another Python-type scene. There are laughs throughout, though some fall flat, such as a German shepherd pun. But the movie truly succeeds when it’s more serious, and we realize there are important messages here about friendship, looking out for others, the horrors of war, as well as a timely cautionary tale about fascism. I actually got choked up at the sight of an American flag, back when we used to be good.
Marty got the band back together, and for many of us that is reason enough to celebrate. De Niro! Pesci! Keitel! Original music by Robbie Robertson, fer crissakes. That he was then able to deliver such a tremendous piece of filmmaking, on a truly grand scale, is… well, not at all surprising. Because he’s Martin Freaking Scorsese. And who the hell are you?
The titular Irishman is Frank Sheeran, apparently a Zelig-esque character of the 1950s–70s Teamsters and organized crime scene. Tasked with playing him over several decades is Robert De Niro, i.e. one of the greatest American actors of all time. However, in the past 20+ years, we’ve only seen occasional glimmers of that brilliance. Has he gone after less challenging roles in lesser movies? A little bit, little bit. Here, his old friend Scorsese brings Bobby back to the well, and it is impressive to watch.
Due to the wide time span covered in the screenplay, Scorsese employs digital de-aging, and while not perfect, it’s pretty good. De Niro looks like a younger De Niro who maybe has had very good results from Proactiv. Most importantly it’s not distracting.
We’re deftly bouncing between three time periods: 1950s, 1970s, 2000s. But we’re primarily in that first time period as it slowly catches up with the second. Those early days are Scorsese’s sweet spot, and nobody does it better. This is Goodfellas territory: the dark restaurants, the suits, the hits. Hey, there’s Joe Pesci (whose mafia character becomes Sheeran’s lifelong mentor). Oh hello Harvey Keitel, boss of bosses. For a little new spice in the Sunday gravy, let’s mix in Bobby Cannavale (who more than passed the Scorsese audition in Boardwalk Empire). I am not here to shit on Motherless Brooklyn except to say: You look at that movie and think “oh they’re making it look old-timey.” Scorsese and crew, on the other hand, absolutely transport you to the time period. You are there.
For those of us who enjoy such a thing, this would be movie enough. But then we get Al Pacino as Jimmy Hoffa. Oh goodness. You mean before, that was just the appetizer, and now we’re getting the main course? Pacino — also on the shortlist of all-time greats — is a delight, trying out a flat midwestern accent, gesticulating, shifting volume and tempo. Hoo-ah!! Sheeran becomes Hoffa’s trusted soldier, so we get De Niro and Pacino playing off each other — the first time that’s ever happened in a quality film. Which is a treat.
We also get a very solid Ray Romano (as the Teamsters lawyer), an explosive performance by Boardwalk Empire’s Al Capone (as Hoffa rival Tony Pro), Herc from The Wire in a fat suit (or did De Niro raging-bully him into gaining weight?), Landry from Friday Night Lights, Anna Paquin in a small but key role as Sheeran’s grown-up daughter, and that comic Sebastian Maniscalco who Jerry Seinfeld had coffee with in a nice turn as Crazy Joe Gallo.
Top screenwriter Steve Zailian (Schindler’s List, The Night Of, etc.) skillfully weaves an epic tale of power, pride, politics, corruption, family, loyalty, prejudice, and more. There are laughs but they’re balanced by frequent reminders from Scorsese that the violent life isn’t a glamorous one — it takes a deep personal toll, and haunts you always. This is America, the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Is this a true story? These are real characters, and we know the outcome. There are seemingly countless competing versions of how that outcome was reached, and we may never know the reality. But for a compelling, thrilling, expertly-crafted, and thought-provoking take on the events, I’m sticking with Scorsese.
I’ve read one Jonathan Lethem novel, Fortress of Solitude, and my reaction was, “Eh, it’s OK.” Now I’ve also seen one movie based on a different Lethem novel, and I’m feeling the same way.
I did hear that Edward Norton took many liberties with the book, so those guys can share the blame if they like. Norton has always seemed like a good dude to me, kind of an intellectual Andrew McCarthy, and a very strong actor. But this is clearly a passion project for him and that is often a real red flag. Norton wrote, directed, and stars in this film. He’s only directed once before (the likably lightweight Keeping the Faith back in 2000) and this is his first screenplay. The sweet fella seems a bit out of his depth.
Ah, but he plays the lead role, a 1950s gumshoe with Tourette’s. Norton does a solid job and doesn’t go “full R” but I couldn’t shake the suspicion that, with all that twitching and blurting, he’s ultimately just Oscar-chasing. I guess Norton called in some favors and cast quality actors Alec Baldwin (a character based on real-life power-mad NYC commissioner Robert Moses, and in case you didn’t get that, his name here is Moses Randolph — clever!!), Bruce Willis, Bobby Cannavale, Willem Dafoe, and the reliably great Cherry Jones. Then his favors ran out so we also get the brother from My Name Is Earl, Omar from The Wire, and Fisher Stevens (!) with a performance so wussified I honestly thought it was Mike Birbiglia. The female lead is Gugu Mbatha-Raw, who does good work here and her name is really fun to say.
But let’s take Baldwin as a case study. I saw a promotional interview in which Norton gushed about getting to see Baldwin in a dramatic role again. Ah, but here’s the rub: Norton doesn’t have the directorial chops to coax a truly powerful performance out of Baldwin. And this unfortunately carries over to the rest of the film: It’s a noir gangster genre exercise — power, corruption, REVENGE — looks suitably old-timey, and it’s competent but not much more. It feels like they’re playing dress-up. And I’m not even going to mention the scene where Norton compares Tourette’s to jazz.
I just wish a more experienced director with a stronger cast could make a period-piece crime epic to show Edward Norton how it’s truly done. Oh wait a minute….
The Who — “Happy Jack” [THEME] Dionne Warwick — “Trains and Boats and Planes” C.W. McCall — “Convoy” Laura Cantrell — “Roll Truck Roll” Lightnin’ Hopkins — “Automobile” Laura Jane Grace & the Devouring Mothers — “The Airplane Song” Flowers — “Boat Song” Colin Clary — “She’s a Motorcycle” Eternal Summers — “Pogo” Grandaddy — “Skateboarding Saves Me Twice” Pink Floyd — “Bike” The Replacements — “Kiss Me on the Bus” Descendents — “Van” Guided by Voices — “Everywhere With Helicopter” The Pastels — “Get ‘Round Town” Frankie Cosmos — “Bus Bus Train Train”
Jack’s Aquarium podcast is proudly recorded in Hoboken, NJ.
You know I really want to see a movie if it’s $7 Tuesday but instead of going to a Bow Tie theater I go to AMC where I don’t even have a rewards card and drop $21-and-change for the Dolby Atmos with the reclining seats.
I dig the Boss.
If you do as well, and have a chance to see Western Stars on the big screen, go do it soon. This will be fine to watch on your big TV at home, but there was something extra special about watching in the cinema with some fellow Bruce fans around. You’re basically being invited to a private concert in the hayloft of Bruce’s barn in Colts Neck, New Jersey. It’s done up as a club, with a small bar off to the side, and warm lighting. There are other friends and family invited but co-directors Springsteen and his very sympathetic collaborator Thom Zimny wisely don’t focus much on the crowd. He came for you, you, Bruce came for you. Will you heed his urgency?
The setlist is the recent Springsteen album Western Stars. As he mentions in the bonus footage at the end, Bruce was temporarily a little bored with writing rock and roll songs, so he tried on a different style: western-tinged singer/songwriter material in the vein of Jimmy Webb and Glen Campbell. There aren’t too many songwriters who could switch genres so successfully, especially quite deep in a career. But Springsteen has been fascinated with the West since his early records, and has certainly done folkier tunes in the past. The result here, to my ears, is his most consistently strong album since Magic from 2007.
In the barn he’s gathered a band of old friends and new players, plus a prominent 30-piece orchestra. Yet it remains a very homey feel. I fought the urge to clap at the end of each song, and the assembled cineplex audience did applaud at the end of the film. We Jerseyans are cute like that.
In a bit of a throwback to his old concerts (and to his Broadway show), Bruce introduces each song with a little story or the motivation for writing it. But instead of speaking to the barn crowd, Zimny takes Bruce out to the actual West for these interstitial segments. There’s plenty of gorgeous footage: horses and plains, wide open skies, wide open roads.
The 70-year-old Springsteen has a lot of hard-won wisdom to share, and a ready willingness to admit his failings. The overarching theme here is a fairly basic concept, but I don’t recall ever hearing it so plainly stated: As humans we have an ingrained desire to vanish, explore, to be alone, to express our independence. We’re born to run. But we also have a lust for togetherness, love, family, community. Responsibility. The young person may be more driven by that mad quest for freedom and the self, while the older among us focus more on the home and the needs of others. But these twin impulses are always there, fighting against each other. These songs and this film capture that idea beautifully.
Jack Silbert, curator