Weekend Screen Scene: The Life of Chuck, The Phoenician Scheme

The Life of Chuck is like a Frank Capra movie bookended by a Stephen King movie. It's a King and Capra sandwich, if you will. 

Told in three parts, it starts with part three and ends with part one. Part three introduces several characters in an unnamed town who are facing what may be the end of the world, while also being bombarded by some inexplicable advertisements on billboards, TV, and sky writing, all thanking someone named Chuck for "39 great years." Part two centers on one moment in the life of Chuck, and part one tells the story of Chuck's youth.

And that's about all I'll say about the plot, because how all of this ties together is the film's central mystery, and message. And I'll admit, it's a message that had me crying more than once. Mike Flanagan is not new to the Stephen King world. Even when he is not overtly adapting his work, as he has done in the past with Gerald's Game and Doctor Sleep, the influence King has on his work is often clearly evident. (For instance, Midnight Mass could easily be viewed as an unofficial Salem's Lot sequel.) It's a match that works quite well because Flanagan, whose work is almost exclusively in the horror genre, understands the importance of sympathetic characters when you're telling a horrific story. 

Chuck is not a horror movie, but those bookends definitely have elements of the genre. I will offer a tiny spoiler and say that if you are going to see this movie because you are a huge Tom Hiddleston fan, you may be disappointed, as he is not in the movie as much as the advertising may suggest. But his Chuck is figuratively and literally the center of the movie, and he's quite good in a film full of excellent performances. (Chiwetel Ejiofor as a teacher, Mark Hamill as Chuck's grandfather, and Benjamin Pajak, especially, as the middle school aged Chuck, are all standouts.)

The Life of Chuck could have easily veered off into the realm of maudlin sentimentality, but I think it's those small nods to the horror genre that both King and Flanagan know so well that keep it grounded, and ultimately make the movie so effective. Perhaps it's my age, where there are more years behind me than there are ahead of me, that make stories like this hit differently, or just the general state of the world right now. But I came away from the movie with a profound feeling of both sadness, and hope.

I've grown less tolerant of Wes Anderson's patented brand of twee ever since The Grand Budapest Hotel, the last film of his I can say I truly enjoyed. And while I would not put The Phoenician Scheme on par with Anderson's greatest, I did find it it to be more fun than annoying, which is at least an improvement.

All the things that make a Wes Anderson movie a Wes Anderson movie are here: A muted color palette. Symmetrically composed shots. An overall vintage aesthetic. And characters that deliver their deadpan dialogue in a story centered in some daddy issues.

Benicio del Toro is Zsa-Zsa Korda, the central daddy this time around, a mysterious and corrupt industrialist hoping to complete his latest "scheme" which involves taking over the infrastructure of Phoenicia. But because he is under constant threat of assassination, he decides to get his things in order and make his estranged daughter Liesl (Mia Threapleton) his sole heir. Liesl, who is a nun, is reluctant. Along on this journey is Bjørn (Michael Cera), an entomologist who has been hired as a tutor because...well because this is a Wes Anderson movie.

For me, it's safe to say that Michael Cera's performance is what makes this movie so fun, and I'm as shocked as anyone that this is his first Anderson film; he was basically built in a lab for this sort of thing. At one time, Wes Anderson movies were a complete package: aesthetically pleasing movies that made me laugh and cry. For the last two movies, I was only able to get one those three things. This time, thanks to Michael Cera, The Phoenician Scheme offers two of the three.

Weekend Screen Scene: Bring Her Back, Bad Shabbos

Danny and Michael Philippou, the twin brother directing team behind 2022's Talk to Me, have returned to the genre with Bring Her Back, another very dark horror film centered on people dealing with debilitating grief. You know. Fun stuff!

After losing their only parent, 17-year old Andy (Billy Barratt) and his blind, younger step-sister Piper (Sora Wong) are placed into foster care with Laura (Sally Perkins) a former children's counselor. At first she seems kooky but kind. But soon, Andy begins to suspect something sinister is at play.

Both Talk to Me and Bring Her Back deal with loss, and the urgent longing for connection beyond the grave. Talk to Me's ventures into the world of the supernatural had some moments of levity, turning ghostly possession into a kind of party game which resulted in some exhilarating and often funny moments. But Bring Her Back is a movie you endure more than you enjoy, and there's not one moment in it the entire film that I could describe as fun.

The Philippous do a great job of establishing Andy and Piper as very sympathetic characters from the get go, and Barratt and Wong are so good in their roles, that you really don't want to see anything bad happen to them. And when bad things do, it hurts. It's literally horrifying.

But the film takes way too long to establish just what is going on with the Laura character, and despite Sally Perkins also giving a stand-out performance, any sympathy we are supposed to have for her comes too late, resulting in an ending that doesn't hit the way I suspect it's supposed to.

So, yes, the film is filled with terrific performances, is beautifully shot, and is absolutely effective; at times so horrifying I had to cover my eyes. (If you have any phobias surrounding dental trauma, you may want to skip this.) And yes, I know horror movies are supposed to affect and horrify you. Absolutely. But it is up to every horror fan to decide the level of horror they can endure. And turns out, watching vulnerable children subjected to multiple traumas is not the kind of horror I can endure. Bring Her Back is a good horror movie; perhaps even a great one. But I can safely say I had a miserable time watching it, and absolutely never want to see it again.

While watching the dark comedy Bad Shabbos, I kept finding myself pondering what the prison sentence for accidentally causing the death of someone via a practical joke may be. Obviously, involuntary manslaughter would be the charge. But would someone really face a long prison sentence? Especially a white kid from a well to-do family in New York? 

The Gelfands, the family at the center of Bad Shabbos, do not think with such rationality, so when a guest at their Friday night shabbos dies as a result of a prank, they go to extreme lengths to try and cover up the crime, and a dinner that was supposed to bring the parents of newly engaged David (Jon Bass) and Meg (Meghan Leathers) together for the first time turns into a comedy of errors.

Bad Shabbos is not the most original comedy, and I'd say only about half of its jokes land. But if the movie is worth seeing at all, it is for Cliff "Method Man" Smith's hilarious performance as Jordan the doorman, who ends up being the exact kind of guest one may need at a murderous shabbat dinner. He can charm parents, quote the Talmud, and knows when and when not to use a luggage cart to get rid of a dead body.

Weekend Screen Scene: Lilo & Stitch

Not longer after the release of the live action Snow White, Disney announced a pause on their live action remakes, but for better or worse, those already made, or in production, will likely see the light of day. Lilo & Stitch is one of them.

I saw and really enjoyed the original Lilo & Stitch back in 2002, but admit it is not a Disney film I ever returned to, so I went into this remake with pretty fresh eyes; I certainly wasn't making constant comparisons to the animated original in my mind. But as I was watching I did begin to question my fond memories of the original, because this new version felt so very, very mild. It's way more of a movie made for kids than one that would appeal to all ages, as the original seemed to. So, yes, I did go back and re-watch the animated version a few days later. And yes, the remake simply pales in comparison.

The character of Stitch is definitely one ripe for CG animation. If kids came away from the original wanting their very own Stitch, they're definitely going to want this legitimately cute and fluffy version. But while Stitch's visual characterizations are damn near perfect, his manic comedic energy is now tailored to simple things kids will find amusing, with far less of the weirdness displayed in the original (Elvis Presley, for instance, is no longer a running gag).

I can't fault anything about Maia Kealoha as Lilo and Sydney Elizebeth Agudong as her sister Nani. They both give amusing and heartfelt performances. Kealoha, in particular, is the kind of child actor I am sure directors dream about: adorable and precocious without feeling like they're mugging for the camera.

To get past the issue of having the two space aliens who are chasing after Stitch look like two space aliens who are chasing after another space alien, this time around, Jumba and Pleakley are able to disguise themselves as actual human beings once they get to Earth. They are played by Zach Galifianakis and Billy Magnussen, respectively, and I wish I could say this comedic duo brings the laughs, but they both just felt flat. I seriously cannot remember laughing at a single moment of their screen time.

The idea that Stitch is an alien-made creation longing for a family is less of a focus this time around. Now the family focus is aimed more at Lilo and Lani, and the threat to separate the two of them. But the introduction of a character not in the original, friendly local Tūtū (Amy Hill) who lives nearby, and is always willing to help, seems like the natural answer to that threat, negating the idea that Lilo and Lani are truly alone. Lilo's story is important, for sure. But Stitch's character arc is just not as touching as it should be, and the film suffers because of it.

Weekend Screen Scene: Thunderbolts*

I'll admit, after seeing Captain America: Brave New World earlier this year, I was pondering whether I would bother with Thunderbolts* and continue investing time in the MCU, which has now officially reached Phase Six(!). (And to be honest I don't really understand what that actually means, since both Captain America: Brave New World and Thunderbolts* are officially part of Phase Five, but seem more like the start of Phase Six?)

But I decided to give it one last shot with Thunderbolts*, and despite the lingering resentment I have over the fact that it is essentially kicking Sinners out of IMAX screens after only two weeks (though Sinners will be back), I will admit, it's convinced me not to quit the Marvel teat quite yet.

Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh) is the center of the film, and is facing an existential dilemma. Clearly, the death of her sister, the Black Widow, has had a lingering effect on her, and as the movie opens, she's questioning her own worth and existence. A secret op assignment from CIA director Valentina de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfuss) leads to a team-up between Belova, the new assholish Captain America (Wyatt Russell), Ghost (Hannah John-Kamen), Belova's father, Red Guardian (David Harbour), and a guy named Bob (Lewis Pullman).

This band of anti-heroes, some of whom would really prefer to be known as just heroes, join forces with the Winter Solider (Sebastian Stan) in fighting a familiar villain, and a new one, and it's this new villain which ends up feeling refreshingly novel. I've grown pretty tired of superhero villains whose goals are world conquering and/or destruction, with big battles that end up destroying cities. The villain in Thunderbolts* is essentially the deepest pits of depression personified, and that's a pretty relatable and scary foe to face.

To be clear, Thunderbolts* is still filled with lots of fights, shooting, and some urban destruction; the usual beats of a Marvel movie are all here. But what feels new is the decidedly human, emotional pain the heroes and villain have to face and try to overcome. I think it probably goes without saying that Florence Pugh is great, and the rest of the Thunderbolts, particularly David Harbour's Red Guardian, have their moments; Marvel movies have never been lacking when it comes to comic performances. But it's the darkness of this one that will linger.

*and be sure stay to the very end of the credits to learn what that asterisk is all about.

Weekend Screen Scene: Sinners

Experiencing Ryan Coogler's Sinners, ideally in IMAX, is the kind of cinematic experience that reminds any movie lover just why they love movies, and could well convince the skeptical that cinema can be a transcendent experience. 

Sinners is really three movies wrapped into one. It's a historical drama, set in 1932 Mississippi, where twin brothers Smoke and Stack (Michael B. Jordan) have returned to town from adventures in underworld Chicago to open a juke joint. It's a musical, about Sammie (Miles Caton), a preacher's son, blues guitarist, and singer, who wants to pursue his musical passions, despite the objections of his father. And it's a horror movie, about monsters both real and supernatural.

How Coogler melds all of this together is masterful. There are only a few filmmakers I trust completely, meaning I can go into their films knowing that even if I don't end up loving the movie, I'm in the hands of a master who understands how to craft a movie. Coogler is becoming one of them. 

There's a sequence near the middle of the film, once the Smoke Stack brothers have opened their juke joint, Sammie begins to play, and the legend that music can "pierce the veil between life and death" begins to come to life. Past, present, and future start to share the screen, the camera glides around the dance floor, and all of these pieces that shouldn't work together come into harmony. It's the most electric bit of filmmaking I've seen in years.

Love and sex, violence and blood, all play a part in Sinners, but it's the music that's going to linger. Coogler has once again teamed with Ludwig Göransson for a score that, like the film itself, is a melding of genres that one would assume to be discordant, but just works. Filled with swampy blues, Irish folk songs, and a score that melds it all and more, the soundtrack deserves the same kind of fervor the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack garnered. 

I'm purposely avoiding saying much about the plot because I went into Sinners only knowing what was in the trailer, and that was even more than I wish I'd known (the trailer above is the most obtuse I could find). I was still happy to be surprised, and let the nuances of the characters and plot reveal themselves. One of the biggest sins of a horror movie is not giving you any reason to actually love the characters that are eventually put in danger. That's not the case here, as Coogler allows the characters to slowly reveal themselves, and their backstories. When it comes time for them to fight, you're cheering them on.

In the age of streaming it can be hard to convince people to fork over the dough for a movie theater experience. But I really can't stress enough that Sinners really should be seen in a theater. If you're in the Bay Area, see it at the Metreon in IMAX, which is one of the only true IMAX theaters in California. And if I can't convince you, I'll let Ryan Coogler try, with this bit of video where he nerds out explaining film formats and aspect ratios.