'Punky Brewster' star Soleil Moon Frye carried a video camera everywhere as a kid. That footage is the basis of hew new documentary
The summer's saddest film was long anticipated, remarkable.
As a lightweight behind-the-scenes look at a critically acclaimed television series, Jill Soloway’s new memoir She Wants It: Desire, Power, and Toppling the Patriarchy is just south of worth purchasing at the airport.
Margaret Atwood's follow up to The Handmaid's Tale, The Testaments, is already optioned by Hulu. This might not be for the best.
Netflix's 'You' seeks vindication for Penn Badgley's Joe in a creatively depleted third season co-starring Victoria Pedretti.
“The Wallet” and “The Watch” may not be considered among the best 'Seinfeld episodes ever, but what’s the deal with that? Here's why, 30 years later, these episodes deserve a rewatch.
Eve’s fixation on Villanelle (and vice versa) has been the pulse of “Killing Eve” since the beginning.
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The show’s third season turns male-led serial killer narratives on their head.
In the haze of late 90s human dramas that observed characters through the cracked lens of pragmatism, fresh faces in the cinema found a playground of golden opportunities. From this threshold came the onslaught of a new generation of ambitious thinkers, paving the way for names like Neil Labute, Lars von Trier, Darren Aronofsky, Danny Boyle and Sam Mendes to show up on movie screens – men who worked within the shadows instead of stepping outside of them, each employing a voice relative to the times and finding tremendous inspiration in the turn-of-the-century paranoia that quietly wove its way through narratives. These were not necessarily cynical stories, but they underscored the vulnerability of their players in a way that removed the gloss and polish of previous decades, and brought them closer to our experiences. Some might say even dangerously close. Just imagine the faces of more optimistic movie artists like Capra or Brooks as they watched a picture like “Trainspotting” or “In the Company of Men”; no doubt their joy would be replaced by looks of shock and crashing feelings of despair. Paul Thomas Anderson joined those ranks in 1996, lending his voice to a movement of storytelling that reflected the sharp transition of our society on the move towards full reveal with “Hard Eight” and “Boogie Nights.” The latter film, which tells the story of an ensemble of people who were at the epicenter of the rise and fall of 70s porn, essentially set the stage not just for his own eventual success through the industry but also inspired others on both ends of the experience line (the great Robert Altman, for example, was so enamored by his flair that he even hired him to be his understudy for “A Prairie Home Companion”). New facets in a continuous evolution of skill and approach have given him a career of enduring success even while many of his peers have floundered, and along with Quentin Tarantino he belongs in that elite club of self-taught filmmakers who learned their craft from watching a lot of old films rather than going through educational curriculums. Anderson has made six solid pictures over the last two decades, but it is “Magnolia,” his third endeavor, that remains his personal favorite. Released in late 1999 amid a flurry of impassioned responses, it was also his most divisive. I was not privy to seeing it until years later, when it wound up in my hands at the beckoning of a college colleague who felt it possessed the thumbprint of the most promising filmmaker of our generation. About halfway through my first viewing, I saw what he was getting at – abilities that had only been briefly revealed in his two earlier films were now fully illuminated here, establishing the right style and tone in a series of interlocking stories that might have otherwise seemed like those second-rate after school specials from the 80s. And yet there is a power not just in the way the stories are told, but in what they deal with and how they deal with them. The characters became important to us, their plight heavy on our own hearts. The manner in which situations are exposed in one story and then absorbed into another creates complex conundrums, unmasking a humility that is relative to our lives and our feelings. To see the film is to bear witness to a great truth being discovered through elaborate illusions: that for every broken dream and hard reality the people are fragmented by, the divide that separates us is all but imaginary. The material plays less like a movie and more like the experiences of a series of lives we pass through on an average day. Many share similarities, others bloodlines. And in rarer instances, a few of them simply wander through one another’s sphere by circumstance or luck. If there can be a center to all of the material at all, it comes closest with the character of Claudia (Melora Waters), a single woman living with a drug problem who is estranged from her father on the basis that he may have sexually abused her. Her existence is reduced to doing lines of coke, meeting random guys for sex at bars and blaring music so loud in her apartment that it infuriates the neighbors; so much so, in fact, that they wind up calling law enforcement on her. The arrival of a police officer named Jim (John C. Reilly) sets the stage for the second act of her life: he is not so much a cop as much as he is a lonely caregiver who uses the law as his mask, and she is moved by his apparent concern, paving the way for simple conversations that are cute and succinct but driven by the quiet acknowledgment of deep wounds in both of their souls. The distinction in the movie – much like it was in Altman’s own “Short Cuts” – is that many of the characters provide their own centers instead of being figures that revolve around the arc of one specific. A brief rundown: Claudia’s father is Jimmy Gator (Philip Baker Hall), a television personality who is the host of a famous network quiz show for child prodigies; his wife, the supportive Rose (Melinda Dillon), keeps close tabs on him at tapings for fear of his safety, especially since no one on set knows he is dying of cancer. On set of said show, “What Do Kids Know?”, 10-year-old Stanley (Jeremy Blackman) is calculated in his brilliant use of the mind – especially against a competing team of adults – but is somewhat distanced from his father Rick (Michael Bowen), who seems to care more about winning than preserving his son’s sanity. The potential outcome of this arc is imagined through the ongoing life experiences of Donnie Smith (William H. Macy), a former quiz kid who has grown up into a pathetic loser barely getting by as a salesman at an electronics store who hopes to recapture some element of his lost youth by getting braces (even though he clearly does not need them). Meanwhile, a retired television producer named Earl Patridge (Jason Robards in his final film role) is on his deathbed and reveals a series of sad life circumstances and regrets that fuel the actions of his hospice nurse Phil (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), who makes an attempt on Earl’s behalf to reach out to the son he alienated decades prior. That is not an action that sits very well with Earl’s wife Linda (Julianne Moore), who spends much of the movie going in and out of the house while on a cellphone, picking up prescription drugs and dealing with his impending death (and her regrets) with extreme outward anxiety, sometimes in explosive ways. Simultaneous to all of that, we meet his son Frank (Tom Cruise), also a television personality, whose success is owed to a scathingly sexist infomercial called “Seduce and Destroy,” in which Frank inspires the average man to bed any woman he wants using the “magic of language.” A calculated female reporter named Gwenovier (April Grace) detects cracks in that thin veneer of misogyny, however, and exploits them in front of television cameras to contemptuous detail. Much happens to all of these people through the course of a busy 188 minutes, none of it futile. If movies are like songs, then “Magnolia” plays like a symphony in the way it conducts its players through emotional currents and echoes that are distinctly autonomous from one another, yet takes them all to the same flourishing conclusion. Anderson reportedly wrote his screenplay over a period of two weeks, suggesting a skill for observation that is painstaking. Here are lives that have been long and tumultuous, and in most cases have been brought to a state of pathos that is paralyzing. But they are not artificial, or forced. In many circumstances, we as viewers are caught up in them without reservation, as if the screen projects intuition rather than plot points. The truthful dialogue is the anchor in all of this, sometimes delivered with a poetry that is clever and yet pointed (“It’s a dangerous thing to confuse children with angels”). It is through interactions -- intended or accidental – that things are painted in rich strokes. Consider how natural the parallels seem between some of them. Jimmy Gator and Frank Mackey are both important figures to television, for example, who hide devastating family secrets that are indicative of childhood trauma. Focused women (in this case, Rose Gator and Gwenovier) seem to be the only ones courageous enough to see behind the mask, and do so with scathing honesty. But to what end does that serve them? For Mackey, who is crumbled by interaction with the reporter, the reality comes through in a vulgar and violent tirade, ultimately giving way to a vulnerability that is exploited further in a scene when he must confront the source of his trauma: a father who abandoned him and his mother at an early age, who is now mere breaths away from dying. It is perhaps worth noting, even in hindsight, that this is the finest of performances Tom Cruise has ever given in the movies. So solid in “Born on the Fourth of July” and subtle in “Eyes Wide Shut,” his approach here is a frontal attack that originates from obvious hints of internal darkness, and it is played on a consistent note that never waivers from being masterful. The technical details are astounding in the way they peer into lives and then find a way to draw them into the same collective circumstances. Notice how in many of the scenes the camera does not stagnate, but follows the characters through rooms and passageways as if an observer hounding its subject until they reveal all; this technique recalls Brian De Palma, who in turn learned it from Truffaut. There are also countless facial close-ups of the characters caught in deadpan stares, some of them resulting from a mental collapse and others caused by the unwise prodding of others (one involving Stanley during a disastrous moment on the quiz show is particularly striking, and is conveyed with admirable precision). A great deal has been said in film circles of the ambitious climax, of course, which creates an overreach of surrealism that many feel is incongruent with the thrust of the material. But to denounce it is to ignore the blatant foreshadowing that snakes its way through varying acts of the movie (at first with the thought-provoking prologue, and then later in scenes containing references to biblical passages that can be missed by merely blinking). My thoughts: a movie so thoroughly seeped in the quiet desperation of its characters is sometimes starved for something grandiose, and the wallop of a punch that the final act delivers is not only brilliant, but somehow… organic, in a way, to the context of it all. “Magnolia” could have dwindled from memory under the guidance of a director more inclined to show the material in a straightforward manner, but the movie lives on like an imprint in the mind, fascinating and engrossing us with each passing year. I have seen it roughly 15 times over the course of a decade, and each time I find myself peeling back a fresh layer and finding new perspectives that are silently woven within the complex framework of plot, style and characterization. For Anderson to make such a deep film at a relatively young age (28, to be exact) suggests a quality not easily captured by any medium, even the movies. But to direct a masterpiece that grows stronger and more resonating in the passing experience of life is even more elusive, almost celestial. A few have done it through the course of motion picture history – Bergman with “Wild Strawberries,” Fellini with “Amarcord” and Spielberg with “E.T.”, as examples – and in each case the reasoning is simple: here are directors who have been shaped by life’s rough terrain and have much to say about it, but can only reveal the full scope of their voice once we walk the same long mile. As the years pass and we are weathered by universal experiences, the predicaments of Anderson’s characters seem less pathetic and more like the plight of everyone we love and admire. Written by DAVID KEYES Drama (US); 1999; Rated R for strong language, drug use, sexuality and some violence; Running Time: 188 Minutes Cast: Julianne Moore: Linda Partridge William H. Macy: Donnie Smith John C. Reilly: Jim Kurring Tom Cruise: Frank T.J. Mackey Philip Baker Hall: Jimmy Gator Phillip Seymour Hoffman: Phil Parma Jason Robards: Earl Partridge Melora Waters: Claudia Wilson Gator Jeremy Blackman: Stanley Spector Michael Bowen: Rick Spector Melinda Dillon: Rose Gator April Grace: Gwenovier Felicity Huffman: Cynthia Henry Gibson: Thurston Howell Produced by Paul Thomas Anderson, Michael De Luca, Lynn Harris, Daniel Lupi, JoAnne Sellar and Dylan Tichenor; Directed and written by Paul Thomas Anderson
This commentary dives deep into "May December" and how the movie illustrates that women can be abusers too.
June’s prowl around Hannah’s fortresslike school is the perfect metaphor for her connection to her daughter at this point.
From the very first moment that Tully opens, it’s up close and personal. The camera is intimate, and reveals the story and the characters from voyeuristic angles and through personal details. Charlize Theron plays Marlo, a woman who is loving and on the edge of spiraling into the dark depths of postpartum depression. The film, directed by Jason Reitman and written by Diablo Cody is an exploration into postpartum depression, the mental and physical toll it takes on women, and one woman’s resiliency. Theron is at her best! She is beautifully engaging and delivers the character with her entire Being. Theron is transformative and fearless, which is just what the character calls for. This isn’t new for Theron, she has always been up for transforming into anyone and anything, no matter how physically or emotionally demanding the role, from genres that depict emotionally complex human beings like Aileen Wuornos in Monster and the guilt-ridden Sylvia in The Burning Plain, to the unapologetic characters in action and shoot’em up genres like her character Lorraine Broughton in Atomic Blonde or Imperator Furiosa in Mad Max: Fury.
“The Wallet” and “The Watch” may not be considered among the best 'Seinfeld episodes ever, but what’s the deal with that? Here's why, 30 years later, these episodes deserve a rewatch.
You didn’t think June would make it out so easily, did you?
The Emmy-winning cast of FX’s 'The People V. O.J.’ make their case.
FX’s Feud ended Sunday night with the episode “You Mean All This Time We Could Have Been Friends?”
Updated Guide to ALL the Filming Locations of The Handmaid's Tale, including Season 4 - The Hulu series with Elisabeth Moss filmed in Canada
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Chris Cabin takes a spoiler-heavy look at Season 5 of 'House of Cards', Netflix's political drama, with the Underwoods taking power in the era of Trumpism.
“The Wallet” and “The Watch” may not be considered among the best 'Seinfeld episodes ever, but what’s the deal with that? Here's why, 30 years later, these episodes deserve a rewatch.
An exploration of the life and death of Olivia, a victim of child rape and its horrible aftermath in Liberia.
The new Netflix series from Veena Sud is a fascinating, flawed study of structural racism and mistrust.
Anna Kendrick's new series, Love Life, sees her locking lips or getting into bed with a new love interest each episode.
Vikings recap: Michael Hirst talks Season 4 midseason finale, which introduced Ragnar's adult sons, including Ivar, following a time jump.
Gillian Anderson shines in season three of The.
'The Good Place' star Kristen Bell on the emotional finale, her most challenging scene, and that 'tough-love ending.'
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The Wire – Season 1 When I started this blog the idea was for it to be about movies AND television. For a while, and by a while I mean maybe the better part of a month, I maintained the TV blog wri…
Bloodline came to its Season 3 close, and here's where the Netflix drama left all of its major characters.
I’m not sure where to start, really—the whodunit or the happy ending. Let’s start with the whodunit. This is the first case in The Killing that felt like it made some sort of real-world sense; there was no way Kyle did it, but also no way he was fully innocent, right? And the pieces came together in a way that they…
'The Good Place' creator Mike Schur on the hardest story line to break, the Jason joke too dumb to use, and his biggest ethical dilemma.
Scientology: Black Ops had been described as investigation that could have ‘wide-ranging and serious consequences’
'Punky Brewster' star Soleil Moon Frye carried a video camera everywhere as a kid. That footage is the basis of hew new documentary
Elisabeth Moss makes a mighty impression in a 10-part take on Margaret Atwood’s prescient and fiercely feminist horror
"Take it sleazy!" (No, that's not the final message from "The Good Place" series finale, but there is one rather simple takeaway.)
