Review: "The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected)"

If, years ago, you'd suggested to me the likes of Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller could handily outshine Dustin Hoffman and Emma Thompson in the same picture...well, I would've been far less than convinced.

Alas, that is very much the case in The Meyerowitz Stories (New and Selected), the surprisingly pale latest film from writer/director Noah Baumbach.

In the film, Sandler and Stiller portray siblings Danny and Matthew who, alongside sister Jean (Elizabeth Marvel), are reconnected in advance of their sculptor father Harold (Dustin Hoffman)'s career retrospective on his work. Danny has inherited some of his dad's artistic talent but is poor. Matthew may not have an inventive bone in his body but is a successful and wealthy financial planner. Both are unhappy, as is the timid Jean, and Harold isn't much more jovial, especially after witnessing the grand success of an old friend (Judd Hirsch) who recently had his own art show. No surprise, a tragedy strikes that brings long-isolated forces together.

The Meyerowitz Stories isn't without its pleasures. Both Sandler and Stiller are really quite wonderful, the former in particular shining after all too many years attaching himself to cinematic dreck. Marvel is strong too, even if Jean feels terribly underwritten, and Candice Bergen shows up for a boffo cameo as Harold's third wife (and Matthew's mom) who regrets paying scant attention to Danny and Jean as they grew up.

The picture has been sold as a sort of cross between Woody Allen and Wes Anderson but Baumbach's proceedings hardly match the sharpness of either of those two filmmakers' work, even third-tier Allen or Anderson. The film, despite some great acting, is curiously uninvolving for the most part and I wasn't too fond of Hoffman's dreary, sad sack portrayal of Harold, nor Emma Thompson's turn as the sculptor's latest wife, a one-note hippie caricature that plays more like a SNL character than actual human being.

Fans of Sandler and Stiller ought to check this out but keep those expectations modest.

B-

Review: "Lady Bird"

Saoirse Ronan (who should've won the Oscar for Brooklyn), Laurie Metcalf (one of the most devastatingly talented actors to ever grace the small screen), Tracy Letts (among this century's finest playwrights and a fierce actor to boot), Lucas Hedges (brilliant last year in Manchester By the Sea), Stephen Henderson (superb in last year's Fences), Timothee Chalamet (about to embark on an awards season run with Call Me By Your Name) and Lois Smith (among our most treasured character actors), among other geniuses, in a film directed by that sublime up-and-comer Greta Gerwig?

How could such a production prove anything less than absolute perfection?

Lady Bird does not disappoint. It is among the year's very best and most insightful pictures. Gerwig writes and directs on a sky-high level that is matched in every moment by a game cast ready to bask in the rich material they've been given.

Ronan is the deliciously droll and strong-willed Christine "Lady Bird" McPherson, a teenager itching to graduate from her Catholic high school in Sacramento and ideally settle down somewhere in the northeast. She has a stormy relationship with her mom Marion (Metcalf), a woman just as candid as her daughter and supremely stressed from work - pressure that only gets worse when family patriarch Larry (Letts) loses his job. Marion is not keen at all on the idea of Lady Bird making such a cross country move. Adding additional turbulence to Lady Bird's life are a pair of thorny romantic escapades and a suddenly strained relationship with her best friend (the fabulous Beanie Feldstein).

Lady Bird never strikes a false note, nor does it put any of its richly talented actors to waste. Ronan and Metcalf are in prime form, their relationship the heart and soul of the picture. With the spotlight shone on them, Gerwig ends the film on an immensely moving and perceptive note. But there is so much more to cherish in this picture too, including yet another heartbreaking performance from Hedges, that uproarious scene-stealer Feldstein and also the sweet rapport between Lady Bird and her father.

Members of the Academy, I realize the category of Best Lead Actress is looking to be something of a zoo this awards season. If, however, you opt not to nominate Ronan, one of today's finest young talents, operating at the very top of her game here, I am prepared to throw a hissy fit that you'll be able to hear all the way from Boston. K?

A

Review: "The Florida Project"

Between this and Wonderstruck a few days ago, I am truly in coming-of-age heaven right now.

The Florida Project, the latest picture from the talented writer/director Sean Baker, is a film fanciful and funny for the most part, though not without the occasional gut punch. Its wondrous outlook on life, through the eyes of the child, makes it all the more devastating when tragic reality comes crashing in.

The delightful newcomer Brooklynn Prince portrays Moonee, a six-year-old firecracker who, despite residing in a grungy budget hotel in Orlando, finds ways to make the very most of her surroundings. She has pals with that same sky-high energy level - often times, the proceedings have the ebullient feel of The Little Rascals - and an endearing rapport with hotel manager Bobby (Willem Dafoe), whose study exterior masks heaps of compassion and concern.

Moonee, of course, does not live alone - her lively routine is dependent on mom Halley (Bria Vinai), a hot mess who absolutely adores her daughter, keeping up on the weekly rent. Doing so proves exceedingly trying, as Halley moves in new and potentially dangerous directions to provide for her daughter.

The Florida Project isn't without its blemishes - it ends on a note that I found rather perplexing and unsatisfying. The final few minutes, however, are not enough to detract from the beauty of Prince's leading turn and the comparably convincing work from Dafoe (who's never been more understated) and Vinai (who adds layer upon layer to this untamed character). The picture also looks fabulous, with cinematography by Alexis Zabe.

Oh, and there's a scene in this thing with Moonee going to town on a breakfast buffet that is sure to land on my year-end list of favorite film moments. Amazing.

B+

Review: "Wonderstruck"

Bless you, Todd Haynes, for once again giving me all the feels.

Wonderstruck, Haynes' latest picture, is a real triumph, an absorbing, expertly written and directed and ultimately devastating effort that is sure to resonate with adults and children alike. It is his most poignant and satisfying piece since Far from Heaven, a film I wouldn't hesitate for a second to include on a list of the 100 or so finest pictures to ever grace the screen.

While Wonderstruck isn't quite a masterpiece on the sky-high level of that 2002 film, this is still Haynes operating at or near top of his game. It's one of the year's very best pictures.

Based on the 2011 Brian Selznick novel (Selznick also penned the screenplay here), Wonderstruck traces the journeys of two children, Rose (Millicent Simmonds) and Ben (Oakes Fegley), to New York City. Both have immense longing for greater fulfillment in their lives. They are also both deaf.

Rose's quest to the Big Apple takes place in the black-and-white 1920s. She ventures from her dictatorial father's New Jersey home to track down her idol, the silent screen actress Lillian Mayhew (Julianne Moore), who is now doing a stint in theater. Ben, on the other hand, makes the leap all the way from Minnesota, circa 1977. His mother (Michelle Williams) having recently died, he is in search of his father, who might be connected to a book store in the city.

Over time, of course, we come to see great parallels between these two excursions and Haynes does a remarkable job smoothly switching back and forth between the two stories. His heart is clearly so in this and Simmonds and Fegley, both splendid and completely convincing, are right on the same page with him.

Moore all but steals the final half hour of the picture and that wonderful actor Cory Michael Smith, who was so startling in Olive Kittredge a few years back, makes a memorable, if too brief appearance as well. Jaden Michael is also a real find as Jamie, a lonely boy from Queens who befriends Ben.

Per usual, Edward Lachman's cinematography is right on the money and better be on everyone's shortlist in that category come Oscar time. Kudos too to composer Carter Burwell, whose music especially comes to life in the Rose sections of the picture.

Wonderstruck is a beautiful and soulful film that I cannot wait to revisit.

A

Review: "Happy Death Day"

Only pen reviews for Oscar contenders? As if!

Happy Death Day, which most certainly won't be barnstorming the awards season (but will probably prove more satisfying than a number of actual contenders), is a horror-comedy blast, a lively roller coaster ride that strikes that same balance of chills and giggles as the first two Scream entries. Like the Wes Craven pics, this isn't a genuinely terrifying film or a piece of cinema that deserves to be anywhere near an all-time best list in horror. Still, it's a lot of fun.

Jessica Rothe is pitch-perfect as sorority girl Tree who, as the film opens, is the most unpleasantly self-absorbed of sights. On her birthday, she wakes up in the bed of fellow student Carter (Israel Broussard) and proceeds to spread her misery over him, her sorority sisters, some dude she recently dated, the professor she's been sleeping with and virtually anyone else who crosses her path. That evening, in a spooky tunnel no sane person would walk through at night, she is stabbed to death by a masked killer.

Then, she wakes up. In Carter's bed, again. Tree finds herself reliving that same day and, guess what - she's again bludgeoned by this mystery man (or woman) donning a mask of the school mascot (which, inexplicably, is an infant baby). As this cycle continues, Tree's chilly demeanor softens and, desperate to bring this never-ending nightmare to an end, she opens up to the kind Carter for help in devising a strategy.

The film, directed by Christopher Landon and written by Scott Lobdell, has its fair share of clunky dialogue (exchanges like "Tree, I can't see you today, I have a ton of patients on my schedule"/"Look man, I'm running out of patience today") and again, isn't especially blood-curdling, but Rothe's spirited, winsome leading turn and Landon's expert staging of the slasher sequences more than make up for the film's faults.

Oh, and moviegoers who find farts devastatingly funny are bound to die from laughter via one particularly indelible and surprising moment in the picture.

B+