The Witch

This review originally appeared on SFist.com.

The Witch is a tough sell. While it has both the creepiest and most beautiful imagery I've seen in a horror movie in many years, it's also pretty slow, and filled with dialogue I could only understand maybe half the time. This isn't the kind of movie most horror fans are going to flock to.
The story centers on a family of 17th century Puritans in New England who are banished from their village and forced to live alone on their own farm, right outside an imposing woods. When their newborn baby disappears right before the eyes of eldest daughter, Thomasin (Anya Taylor-Joy), the logical conclusion is he was kidnapped by a witch.

The film takes place several years before any of the Salem Witch Trials took place, and director Robert Eggers presents the idea of witchcraft as it was viewed by those early Puritan settlers. To them, witches were as real as the elements, and as real as God. Evil was not to be doubted. What was to be doubted was the innocence of those accused of it.

What happens to the family is like a mini-version of the later witch trials, as accusations are tossed around, and the family begins to turn on each other, convinced the real witch is among them. And therein lies the real horror: The rejection of family and the safety of home.

Much of the dialogue in the film is taken from actual journals and writings from the era. This, along with impeccable costuming, and the dead on-look of a sad and dilapidated farmstead, gives the film some admirable authenticity. But combining that dialogue and its unfamiliar sentence structure with the thick English accents of the cast meant I spent a lot of the movie wishing it had a subtitle option. (This will definitely be getting a second viewing come its video release.)

If we are to take the presentation of the witch in the movie to be as real as the characters believe it to be, (and the movie does leave this a bit ambiguous), then we might also have to accept that said witches were evil, and the subsequent witch trials were completely justified. On the other hand, to see the abject misery the women in this family are subjected to, well, who the hell wouldn't want to leave all that to go dance naked in the woods and fly across the sky on a broomstick?

Zoolander 2 and Where To Invade Next

This review originally appeared on SFist.com.

It's been fifteen years since the original Zoolander opened, which means it's been fifteen years since the one and only time I've seen it. Honestly, it didn't leave much of an impression on me, although for years I've been wondering if the fictional model's signature "Blue Steel" pose can ultimately be blamed for the existence of the ubiquitous duck-faced Instagram selfie that everyone has in their respective feeds.
Luckily, any knowledge of the first movie is unneeded to understand the sequel, which begins with about 15 minutes of back-story and catch-up. Zoolander (Ben Stiller) and Hansel (Owen Wilson) have gone into hiding, but an international crisis centered on the deaths of several celebrities, an offer to star in a high-profile fashion show in Rome, and the possible discovery of Derek's long-lost son means a reunion for the once-hot-but-now-not supermodels.

The movie's at its funniest when it isn't centered on Derek or Hansel, and frankly could have used more of Kristen Wiig's insane designer Alexanya Atoz, who looks like Donatella Versace and Lady Gaga had a baby and raised it in a tanning bed, and her head designer Don Atari (Kyle Mooney) an insufferable hipster whose every-other-word is an insult that's really a compliment. Zoolander 2 is unquestionably stupid, but I have to admit, I laughed a lot.

Besides, any movie that opens with the violent murder of Justin Bieber can't be all bad, right?

Michael Moore dials back the vitriol for his latest documentary. Warmongering isn't the topic of this one; instead Moore "conquers" (visits) several different countries around the world, finds out how those countries have been able to succeed in ways that America hasn't, and then claims those resources (ideas) for the U.S.

Among the discoveries are free nutritional meals for schoolchildren in France; 30 days paid vacation and two-hour lunches in Italy — with no loss in production; prisons in Norway where rehabilitation is the goal, not punishment — with some of the lowest recidivism rates in the world; college education, tuition-free, for everyone — including American foreigners; and free healthcare for women in Tunisia, a country with an Islamic government.

Of course none of those countries are without their own problems, and Moore admits in the movie that he set out to "pick the flowers, not the weeds." This is a kinder, gentler Moore, and if anything, the movie is at least a lovely travelogue. But the take-away message — that so many of these successful foreign programs actually have their roots in American ideals, but we just can't get it together enough to make them work — is as infuriating as anything in any of his other movies.

Hail, Caesar!

This review originally appeared on SFist.com.

My opinion of Coen brothers movies tend to fall into one of four categories:

• I immediately love it and want to have its babies. (Raising Arizona; True Grit.)
• I see it, am entertained, but not really sure it completely worked; upon second viewing, I love it. (Fargo; The Big Lebowski; O Brother Where Art Thou?)
• I see it, am entertained but upon second viewing, I can definitely say I don't like it. (The Hudsucker Proxy; The Man Who Wasn't There.)
• I dislike like it so much on first viewing that I never bother to give it a second chance. (Intolerable Cruelty; The Ladykillers.)

I can definitely say Hail, Caesar! doesn't fall into the first or the fourth category; but until I get a second viewing I can't be sure whether it falls into the second or third.

Set in very early 1950s Hollywood, the story centers on Capitol Pictures "fixer" Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin), a man whose main job is getting the studios' stars out of the jams they inevitably find themselves in.

Eddie Mannix was, in reality, an actual Hollywood fixer, who worked for MGM for over four decades. He was also a notorious philanderer, wife-beater, and possible murderer. (For the full Eddie Mannix story, I highly recommend this episode of the podcast You Must Remember This.)

The Coen brothers' version of Mannix is, appropriately enough, a bit whitewashed, as though he went through the "Mannix fixing machine" himself. He goes to confession, is faithful to his wife, and is very devoted to his job. Of course, most of his day is centered around lying to cover up the so-called moral failings of the actors, producers, and directors that work for the studio, but that's on them, you see, not him.

The film follows Eddie during a hectic 24 hours on the studio lot. He's got to figure out how to cover-up the illegitimate pregnancy of the studio's Esther Williams-esque star Deanna Moran (Scarlett Johansson); help the studio change the image of their singing cowboy star Hobie Doyle (terrific newcomer Alden Ehrenreich) by setting him up with Carmen Miranda-esque star Carlotta Valdez (heh) and aiding his transition into a sophisticated drawing room comedy directed by the very British Laurence Lorentz (Ralph Fiennes); and, in the film's central plot, find Baird Whitlock, the kidnapped star of the studio's Biblical tent-pole epic Hail, Caesar! A Tale of the Christ. He's played by George Clooney, (thus completing his "Idiot Trilogy" collaboration with the Coens). Eddie must do all this while also weighing a job offer from Lockheed to get out of the Hollywood business and into a "real" career.

The Coens have tremendous fun recreating the elaborate spectacles of MGM productions. The water ballet rivals anything seen in any of Esther Williams' movies, and the scene featuring Channing Tatum in a Gene Kelly-esque On the Town tap-dancing number full of sailors singing about shipping out and the resulting lack of "dames," is played totally straight, until, of course, it isn't. Are they lamenting or celebrating that "no dames" situation? (By the end of the number, it's pretty clear.)

It's eventually revealed that the group that has kidnapped Whitlock, and who call themselves "The Future," are a cadre of communist screenwriters who basically want to do exactly what the Hollywood blacklisters always feared the commies wanted to do: Spread their agenda through their Hollywood screenplays. It's with this plotline that the Coens ultimately falter, and its resolution falls so flat that even two characters in the movie can only react to it with a shrug and a slight, "Hunh."

There are many, many moments in Hail, Caesar! that work great, are funny in the way that only the Coens can be funny, and capture the mood of the era perfectly, enough that I came out of it, as I so often do with them, wanting to see it again. But until I do, I can't be sure if the parts that work will make the parts that don't seem better, or worse.

The Revenant

This review originally appeared on SFist.com.

The Revenant is one of the most violent, grueling, and gory movies I've ever seen, and this is coming from someone who regularly watches The Walking Dead while eating dinner. As such, I wouldn't call the viewing experience...enjoyable. But it's impressive, very beautiful, and, at times, undeniably exciting.

If you're not a fan of Leonardo DiCaprio, this movie probably won't change your mind about him, but you may enjoy it more than his other films if only because you get to see him mauled by a bear, and then suffer from the after-effects of said mauling for over two hours. He also doesn't do a whole lot of talking, which, again, might be seen as a plus.

DiCaprio stars as real-life 19th-century fur-trapper Hugh Glass, who is forced to flee his North Dakota camp after it's attacked by Arikara Indians. He and his fellow surviving trappers and servicemen struggle to make their way to the nearest military fort, but when Glass stumbles upon a grizzly bear and her two cubs, he attempts to shoot the bear, and misses. The bear, justifiably pissed off, mauls the hell out him. He survives the attack — barely (sorry) — but his wounds are extensive, and the men are slowed down by his need for transport. Two men, and Glass's half-native son, Hawk (Forrest Goodluck), agree to stay behind with him, until he dies and they can give him a proper burial, or support arrives, all in exchange for a handsome payout. But one of those men, (Tom Hardy), gets tired of waiting for Glass to die, and makes some fateful decisions...

It's not giving anything away to say that Glass does not die (check the title's meaning, bro), and the majority of the movie follows his improbable crawling, limping, floating, and sliding journey back to civilization, (or the closest that could be found in 1823 North Dakota). Director Alejandro G. Iñárritu uses lots of the camera moves and tricks found in his Oscar-winning Birdman, like seemingly endless takes, a camera that spins 360 degrees around its subject, and, in a nice visceral addition, a lens that is constantly getting fogged up by breath or splashed with drops of blood and ice. He also spends a lot of time focused on the increasingly icy landscape, as well as filling the movie with plenty of dreamy, Terrence Malick-esque flashbacks to Glass's life in a native village with his child and the child's mother.

I was afraid that at over two-and-half-hours, the movie would get tiresome and boring, but it never did. Sure, there may be a few too many shots of those snowy mountains, but they also served as nice breathers between the carnage. And, as my mother pointed out after the screening, it's also full of useful tips on how to survive a brutal bear mauling in the middle of a blizzard-filled forest, such as, how to cauterize your own gaping neck wound, or how to stay warm through a snow storm when it's just you, your knife, and a dead horse. It's a win win!

Carol

This review originally appeared on SFist.com.

Todd Haynes is back with another story about homosexuality in the 1950s, but this time he's adapted a book, The Price of Salt, written by famed mystery author Patrica Highsmith in 1952 under the pseudonym Claire Morgan. But unlike Far From Heaven, his 2002 homage to classic family melodramas, Haynes stays away from the filmmaking style of the 1950's, crafting a "woman's film" that could only be told now.

Cate Blanchett stars as Carol Aird, an upper class mother of a young daughter, in the midst of divorce from her husband, Harge (Kyle Chandler). She's a strikingly beautiful blonde in creamy mink that instantly catches the eye of shop girl Therese Belivet (Rooney Mara). Actually, they catch each other's eyes, and the spark between them is undeniable. Therese, who has a boyfriend, aspires to be a photographer. Though she isn't confident about either of those situations, she doesn't hesitate when Carol invites her to lunch...and when circumstances push Carol to drive out west, Therese jumps at the chance to join her.

Like Far From Heaven, Carol is filled with impeccable costuming and set design; every detail rings absolutely true to its 1950s era. I swooned almost as much as Therese every time Carol enters a room — the hats! The coats! The jewelry! So enraptured was I by the look of the movie, I was almost able to overlook the fact that we don't actually get a lot of dialogue between the two women. What do they talk about during those long hours on the road? The movie would have us believe they spend most of those drives dreamily staring through the car's fog covered windows. In silence.

Carol is an absolutely terrific movie in many, many ways. Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara deserve all the nominations they're going to get; Carter Burwell's score is lovely; the Super 16 cinematography by Edward Lachman is beautifully grainy. I just wish there was as much attention to detail given to the relationship between Carol and Therese as there was given to the world that surrounds them.