Review: "The Nice Guys"

I have long considered Shane Black to be among the most exhilarating, yet underutilized filmmakers in Hollywood - his pictures, even when he's just serving as screenwriter, have an electricity and passion behind them that is so palpable. Yes, the Lethal Weapon pictures, which he wrote, are tons of fun, but I'm even more fond of the less financially successful efforts, thrilling pictures like the Geena Davis-Samuel L. Jackson vehicle The Long Kiss Goodnight, the unlikely Bruce Willis-Damon Wayans starrer The Last Boy Scout and, one of my very favorites growing up, the funny and frightening The Monster Squad. And of course, there's Black's directorial debut, the terrific Kiss Kiss Bang Bang. You can just tell from these pictures how much affection for and knowledge of cinema Black has - he brings so much talent and enthusiasm to the table.

Black's latest film, The Nice Guys, is the both funniest and most thrilling film released thus far in 2016. It had me from the get-go, with the vintage '70s Warner Bros. logo, and proved an immensely enjoyable ride from start to finish, perhaps at least a bit of a surprise for me, given I'm not always the biggest fan of either of the film's stars, Russell Crowe and Ryan Gosling. Both, however, are dynamite here.

In the picture, set in 1977 Los Angeles, Gosling portrays Holland March, an unhappy, alcoholic P.I., recently widowed and getting the bulk of his business from forgetful old ladies in the neighborhood - only the presence of his daughter Holly (the wonderful, scene-stealing Angourie Rice) seems to provide March a reason to get out of the bathtub in the morning. Crowe is Jackson Healy, a middle-aged hired enforcer who can still kick some ass with his brass knuckles but otherwise too isn't getting a whole lot out of life.

Lo and behold, things get awfully interesting fast for March and Healy (and Holly too), as their paths cross on the heels of the mysterious disappearance of Amelia (Margaret Qualley), a girl with ties to the porn industry, anti-smog movement and even the U.S. Department of Justice. While on the hunt for Amelia, things get all the more exciting for March and Healy with the entrance of thugs portrayed by Beau Knapp (looking like a creepy '70s Phil Spector) and Keith David, plus an artillery-loaded hitman psychopath who goes by the name John Boy (Matt Bomer). All of this cumulates in an epic finale set at, of all places, the Los Angeles Auto Show.

The Nice Guys is a very funny film - Gosling and Crowe are arguably an even stronger match than the likes of Mel Gibson and Danny Glover - but what impressed me even more here is just how intensely exciting the action set pieces are. The finale is marvelous but I think I loved the extended sequence toward the middle of the film, set at the mansion of a famed porn producer, even more. Black sure knows how to orchestrate this stuff beautifully. And I'm not sure I've ever seen an actor fly (or, in this case, mostly stumble) through as much glass as Gosling does here. These are two truly great physical, comic performances, surely worthy of at least Golden Globe consideration come the year's end.

The Nice Guys is a must-see for anyone who seeks a good laugh or thrill, which, I hope, would be everyone.

A-

Review: "The Meddler"

Ever since I first saw the likes of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and The Witches of Eastwick as a young movie-obsessed lad, I have been a big Susan Sarandon fan. Eventually, I graduated on to the superior likes of Dead Man Walking, Bull Durham and Lorenzo's Oil (perhaps my favorite Sarandon turn of all and one I'd argue she deserved the Oscar for), among others, all featuring brilliant Sarandon performances. 

In recent years, I've frankly been a bit disheartened by her film appearances, with Sarandon showing up in the Razzie-calibur likes of That's My Boy, Tammy and Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps. On occasion, there's been the solid film, but Sarandon's often been gravely underused, like opposite Richard Gere in Arbitrage and Michael Douglas in Solitary Man. She's never anything less than interesting, even in the most turgid of pictures, but I've certainly been longing to see her talents fully utilized in a truly great film.

At last, that wish has come true, with writer/director Lorene Scafaria's immensely moving and funny The Meddler, a picture that not only serves as a dazzling leading showcase for Sarandon but nearly reaches Terms of Endearment heights in terms of great mother-daughter movies.

Sarandon's recently widowed Marnie Minervini moves from New Jersey to Los Angeles to be near daughter Lori (the always-engaging Rose Byrne), who she lovingly bombards with salt bagels and never-ending phone calls (particularly in the wake of an L.A. serial killer who is targeting young single women). While Lori, who's feeling more than a tad suffocated by Marnie's presence, is off in New York for work for a couple of weeks, Marnie connects with an array of new friends back in L.A., portrayed by, among others, Cecily Strong, Jerod Carmichael and the dashing, scene-stealing J.K. Simmons (can he do no wrong?). There's also a small running subplot involving Marnie's visits to an elderly, hospital bed-ridden woman that ends in an immensely moving and unexpected way.

The Meddler strikes a nice balance between comedy and drama, in a way I felt this year's earlier (and rather similar) release Hello, My Name Is Doris couldn't quite master. Like Sally Field in the latter picture, Sarandon's Marnie will for me no doubt go down as one of the year's most memorable and lovable cinematic creations. It's a tremendous treat having the likes of Field and Sarandon on the big screen in meaty, substantive leading roles (on a related note, it's also pretty sweet having Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin tearing it up on the small screen right now to boot) and I wouldn't hesitate one bit to rank The Meddler among Sarandon's finest work to date.

I look greatly forward to whatever Scafaria has next up in the movie queue and hope The Meddler turns out to be a tremendous hit.

A-

Review: "The Jungle Book"

I have to admit, I am not much of a Jon Favreau fan - I found his Iron Man pictures, as well as Elf for that matter, rather cookie-cooker and undistinguished. In the superhero genre, at least, he does not have the impressive vision of a Tim Burton or Christopher Nolan, or even a Richard Donner for that matter. I preferred his Cowboys & Aliens to the Iron Man films, actually, because while it was a mess, it at least had a hint of freshness and novelty behind it.

So when Favreau signed on to The Jungle Book, which isn't exactly among my favorites in the Disney filmography, I was, to put it mildly, not terribly enthused.

Lo and behold, however, I ended up really liking - even kind of loving, for the most part - Favreau's enchanting take on Rudyard Kipling. It has a lot of the same awe-inspiring family movie magic as say, E.T. The Extra Terrestrial and Finding Nemo - no matter your age, you're transported back to childhood and there's lots of heart string-tugging at play.

The picture looks sumptuous - here's to hoping Bill Pope's cinematography can be a player in next year's Oscar race - and the voiceover work is pitch-perfect all-around. Bill Murray, Christopher Walken and the late, great Garry Shandling (as a porcupine) are a hoot, Idris Elba is spine-tingling as Shere Khan and this is some of Sir Ben Kingsley's finest screen work since Shutter Island and Hugo.

The Jungle Book of course would not work, however, without a convincing Mowgli and holy cow, Neel Sethi is just about downright perfect in the role - engaging, riveting and funny, and you have to give him extra kudos for pulling it all off against what is essentially a world of wall-to-wall CGI. Between Sethi here and Jacob Tremblay and Abraham Attah last year, this has been such a great time in film for young leading men.

The Jungle Book will no doubt go down as one of my most pleasant moviegoing surprises in 2016.

A-

Review: "Hello, My Name Is Doris"

What a pleasure it is having Sally Field back on the big screen, doing some of her finest comic work since the likes of Murphy's Romance and Soapdish. She's an absolute delight as the title character of Hello, My Name Is Doris, a picture that made its debut more than a year ago over at SXSW and is now filling art houses across the nation (clocking in at a solid #14 at the box office this past weekend, on barely more than 100 screens).

Field has largely been absent on the big screen in recent years and, let's face it, when she has graced motion pictures, she's mostly been slumming it, taking on the thankless role of Aunt May in the dull-as-dishwater Andrew Garfield Spider-Man films and picking up a paycheck for the horrendous Legally Blonde 2: Red, White and Blonde. Spielberg's Lincoln was a definite bright spot, though I felt Field was playing to the last row of the balcony in that one. And she certainly deserved better than ABC's sloppy primetime soap Brothers & Sisters.

With that said! She's so wonderful in this picture, as his Max Greenfield, who surely has Chris Pratt potential to leap off the small screen and soon become a major motion picture star. This film is pure hipster heaven as Field and Greenfield party it up at an electronic concert and Field's daytime fantasies about her co-star are gut-bustingly funny - based on the reaction at my theater, this film is going to have some very nice word-of-mouth.

Beyond Field and Greenfield, unfortunately, the picture is a bit of a mixed bag. It cannot seem to decide whether it's a frothy, glossy romcom for a more mature crowd, ala a Nancy Meyers picture (it actually rings a lot of last year's underrated The Intern), or something a lot darker. There are scenes here where the film almost seems like it's on the verge of becoming something closer to an unsettling Adrian Lyne film. Tonally, it's all a bit uneasy, especially in the second half. Also, while it's a delight to see the likes of Tyne Daly, Caroline Aaron and Peter Gallagher on the big screen, it's also a bit of a letdown to see them giving almost nothing to do.

Criticisms of the picture aside, Hello, My Name Is Doris is well worth a visit for Field's dazzling big screen comeback and her wonderful chemistry with Greenfield. I am hopeful the HFPA will remember Field for a Musical/Comedy Actress nom in the next Oscar season.

B

Review: "10 Cloverfield Lane"

Pretty please, Academy, can this at last be the year John Goodman garners an Oscar nomination? He was robbed, not only of a nomination but the win itself for Barton Fink, and was infinitely more entertaining than the (inexplicably) Oscar-nominated Alan Arkin in Argo. In the J.J. Abrams-produced 10 Cloverfield Lane, which garnered some pretty nice box office receipts in its opening weekend, Goodman delivers an immensely unsettling and unforgettable performance.

The picture, which brings to mind the likes of Misery and Room, as if presented as an extra-long episode of The Twilight Zone, is engrossing and exceedingly well-written, with an assist on the screenplay by the fantastic Damien Chazelle of Whiplash. The film basically asks of its audience, "would it be worth surviving an apocalypse, natural disaster, alien attack, etc. if your rescuer from the chaos happens to be a controlling psychopath?"

Mary Elizabeth Winstead, doing her best Linda Hamilton, and John Gallagher, Jr. are in fine form as well here, though Goodman all but walks away with the film. The inspired soundtrack brilliantly features the likes of The Exciters' "Tell Him" and Tommy James and the Shondells' pre-Tiffany "I Think We're Alone Now." The picture is an impressive debut from filmmaker Dan Trachtenberg.

Unfortunately, I did feel the picture stumbled a bit in its conclusion, with an unfocused and rushed finale, filled with uninspired CGI. On that note, I have to wonder if 10 Cloverfield Lane perhaps would have been even more satisfying as a play?

With that said, the film is plenty worth a visit, in particular for Goodman's marvelous work, which, with reasonable certainty, will stand as one of the finest performances of 2016.

B+