Rocktober: Black Adam (2022) – **½
It’s interesting how much Dwayne Johnson’s latest vehicle mirrors his film debut. In The Mummy Returns, he played an ancient warrior who made a deal with Anubis, gained considerable powers, and after several millennia of dormancy rose again. Here, he plays an ancient slave who was given considerable powers (godlike, even), lay dormant for millennia, and rises again. There, of course, he was an antagonist and played a fairly minor part in the story, while here he’s the undisputed protagonist – and I use that word rather than “hero” for a reason, though even at his most brutal, Teth-Adam (he doesn’t change his name until the very end) is at least wiping out malefactors rather than anyone we’re meant to like.
A native of the Middle Eastern nation of Kahndaq, Teth-Adam first arises in 2600 BCE and saves his people from their tyrannical king. In the present day, Kahndaq is under the thumb of the shadowy Intergang, one of those outfits who carry semiautos, wear camo, and ride around in convoys of Land Rovers. Adrianna Tomaz (Sarah Shahi) is searching for the legendary Crown of Sabbac, which allows its wearer to command the legions of the dead, or something like that. Cornered by Intergang operatives in the chamber where Teth-Adam lies, she speaks an incantation which brings him back into the world.
He proceeds to kick considerable ass, and only a grenade containing “eternium” injures him to the point where Adrianna and her brother Karim (Mohammed Amer) are able to take him to their home, where Adrianna’s teenage son Amon (Bodhi Sabongui) tries to teach Adam how to be a proper superhero, while he tries to make sense of the strange new world he finds himself in. Meanwhile, Amanda Waller (Viola Davis) wants him neutralized, and calls in the Justice Society.
These ersatz Avengers include Hawkman (Aldis Hodge), Doctor Fate (Pierce Brosnan), Cyclone (Quintessa Swindell) and Atom Smasher (Noah Centineo). They head to Kahndaq and attempt to subdue Adam – only to find themselves extremely unwelcome in a country which is quite tired of outside interference, even after Hawkman claims that Adam was in fact lethally dangerous and had been forcibly imprisoned.
While this is going on, Ishmael Gregor (Marwan Kenzari), a seeming ally of Adrianna’s, is in fact after the Crown of Sabbac because he’s the last descendant of the king Adam defeated. (I’d love to see his genealogical chart.) He kidnaps Amon and sets in motion his own plan to secure power, and the Justice Society must ally themselves with Adam to stop him. They do, and halfway through the credits, a certain somebody shows up to set up the dick-measuring contest he and Adam will have in the sequel.
There’s more to it than that, but honestly, who cares?
I really thought this might end up as a ** film. The first act is especially bad, with choppy editing, poorly introduced characters, a pointlessly convoluted set up, generic dialogue (and some very badly delivered voiceover), and dodgy pacing; the prologue tells us little we couldn’t have learned in a well-placed flashback. Then, when Adam is reawakened, he acclimates to the present absurdly quickly; there a few fish-out-of-water gags, but they’re very forced. And the Intergang henchmen do that thing I hate where they keep on firing at Adam even when it’s clearly having no effect.
Then, the Justice Society showed up, and at first, I rolled my eyes; they couldn’t be a more blatant second team, and I was reminded of the ham-fisted introductions to the titular characters in the wretched Suicide Squad. But then, when it became clear that this was kind of the point, when it became clear how in over their heads they actually were and how much the citizens of Kahndaq resented them, the film began to win me over, just a bit.
No, it doesn’t do as much with this theme as a genuinely good film might have – it’s still more interested in delivering CGI-heavy spectacle and setting up sequels. But there’s at least something there I was able to hold onto, something more than the absurdly uninteresting villain or the Tomaz family, who threaten to provide an interesting perspective but are likewise sidelined in favor of hitting the necessary blockbuster beats.
And, while it’s not his best vehicle by any means, Johnson does a solid job of making Adam an unregenerate agent of mayhem (he has no qualms about taking life) without being monotonously brutal and brings some humor and shades of humanity to the role without making him cuddly. A better film could’ve allowed him to give a better performance (Brosnan gives the best performance, bringing both dry wit and pathos to the table) but for the level of film this is, it’s a decent one.
It’s also decent as a studio tentpole; the technical aspects are mostly solid (there’s some actively good production design), and if they’re not outstanding, they don’t make the film worse. There’s a pretty big gulf between this and something like Morbius, which fails at even the most basic level of popcorn entertainment. There’s also a pretty big gulf between this and something like The Suicide Squad, but that had James Gunn and this has Jaume Collet-Serra.
Collet-Serra is probably best suited to smaller scale films, modern B-films like Non-Stop rather than generic A-films like this and Jungle Cruise. It takes a rare director to maintain their personality amidst the sound and fury of a tentpole, and Collet-Serra just isn’t at that level. But then, the DCEU has been a mess for the past six years, with some very good films and some pretty poor ones, but little clear vision tying them together. So take Black Adam for what it is: a couple of hours.
Score: 62
Rock Score:
Time for some more short films!
- Doubletalk (1975) – A young man (Dick DeCoit) arrives at the ritzy home of his date (Diane Burt) and makes conversation with her parents (Nada Rowand and Richard Eastham). All the while we hear everyone’s inner monologues, revealing their insecurities, prejudices, anxieties and irritations. An amusing gimmick, and while the jokes themselves aren’t terribly original, the polished acting and presentation carry it through. After getting an Oscar nomination for this, director/co-writer Alan Beattie made a couple of films I’ve never heard of before shifting into producing for television. Score: 75 – ***
- The Lift (1972) – A buttoned-down businessman (Michael Fuller) has issues with the elevator in his building, the one thing in his life which behaves unpredictably. Unlike Beattie, writer-director Robert Zemeckis went on to a far more accomplished career, but this is, surprisingly, the less rewarding film; it’s well shot and crisply edited, making solid use of the famous Bradbury Building in L.A. the 70s gadgets Fuller relies on (I want that alarm clock), but it doesn’t really amount to much or seem to have a point beyond “hey, loosen up a bit.” Score: 64 – **½
- The Struggle/Küzdők (1977) – Marcell Jankovics, after the excellent Sisyphus, made this short about a young, healthy sculptor who, essentially, pours his youth and health into a statue that will be forever young, though he is now old and frail. The black-and-white animation is only a few degrees more complex than the simple lines of Sisyphus, but the sound effects – a highlight of that earlier film – are just as impactful. The central metaphor here isn’t quite as smoothly conveyed, but by the end it lands well enough. Score: 73 – ***
- Orange (1970) – This shared the top prize at the First International Erotic Film Festival, and certainly there are times when its depiction of the peeling and eating of an orange in extreme close-up is reminiscent of sexual activity. But there are also horrific connotations, as when the ripped-open segments look like viscera, and odd visual connotations like “that pith really looks like bread” or “this music sounds a lot like ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps.'” (According to a Letterboxd user, it’s “Taurus” by Spirit.) I’m not sure it works for me as erotic art, but as a work that recontextualizes a mundane act, it’s worth three minutes of your time. Odd that director Karen Johnson seems to have vanished from sight. Score: 72 – ***
WNUF Halloween Special (2013) – ***½
I try to judge a film against its intentions and how well it achieves them. In the case of WNUF Halloween Special, it sets out to create a fairly authentic 90 minutes (well, 82) of late-80s local television, combining a half-hour news show from station WNUF (serving the fictional town of Riverhill) with an hour-long Halloween special, in which an ostensibly haunted house, the site of grisly murders 20 years previous, is investigated by a WNUF reporter, a husband-and-wife team of paranormal experts, and a priest. There are regular cuts to commercial, and the commercials, drawing on vintage stock footage, help to fill out the world of Riverhill and WNUF, giving us glimpses of local businesses and events and WNUF’s programming. Political and public-service ads also factor into the mix.
To be sure, WNUF Halloween Special commits to the bit and rarely winks at the viewer. There are a few obvious gags and a few of the performers chew the scenery just a bit too much, but on the whole, it sustains the illusion quite well, and anyone who grew up with local TV of the era will feel a distinct rush of nostalgia; I came along a few years later, but the local news in southeast Kansas in the mid-to-late 90s didn’t feel much different. Kudos to the writers and directors, led by Chris LaMartina (the other directors were mainly responsible for the various commercials), for pulling it off so completely.
For better or worse, the special itself also feels pretty authentic, as it takes the team, led by reporter Frank Stewart (Paul Fahrenkopf), quite a while to actually get into the house, and a while longer for really spooky things to start happening. Even when they try to conduct a call-in seance, they get more cranks than serious questions. Things do eventually go violently off the rails, and for better or worse, the film tries to explain why; the answer isn’t an ass-pull, but it’s not necessarily more satisfying than a more ambiguous resolution would’ve been.
On the “for worse” side of the equation, the film can drag just a bit at times; we see the same commercials multiple times and we see the WNUF Halloween Special bumper many times; it does ring true, but given that the film fast-forwards itself at points (just who’s doing the fast-forwarding is never revealed), it might’ve been helpful to do so just a bit more often. At the same time, the commercials are arguably the best part of the film, especially the ads for fake TV shows (like the hilariously chintzy Galaxy Pilot and the Lazer Brigade) and movies (Doggone It!).
Not that the special doesn’t have its strengths. Fahrenkopf is quite convincing as Stewart, who’s trying to get a good show out of this but is also just a little over everything, at least initially; my hunch is he was passed over for the anchor position held by Gavin Gordon (Richard Cutting). And as the Bergers, a clear take-off on the Warrens, Brian St. August and Helenmary Ball have the right mild awkwardness of people who know how strange they seem but believe absolutely in what they’re doing. And their cat is adorable.
This is a tough film to judge because, while it does achieve its goals pretty well, those goals require being, frankly, rather mundane much of the time. Compared to, say, VHYes, it does a much better job of keeping a straight face and recreating a bygone era in broadcasting. It’s very well edited, the actors play it straight for the most part, and the use of vintage equipment makes it look precisely as it should.
But I don’t really feel like it’s a great film, and in a weird way I’m not sure it could ever have been one, because if it had the level of innovation, or depth, or excitement that typically makes a great film, it wouldn’t have been nearly as convincing. So I rate it as a mid-level ***½, a very good film, well worth checking out for horror fans and anyone who likes this kind of nostalgic throwback, but not exactly something that’ll have you jumping with fear or cackling with delight – but it wasn’t necessarily aiming for that.
This year, a follow-up, Out There Halloween Mega Tape, was released. Maybe by this time next year, I’ll be able to check it out. It deals with UFOs, which I’m personally a bit more interested in than ghosts.
Score: 81
Please Baby Please (2022) – ***½
There was never a question that Please Baby Please was going to have, at most, niche appeal; a film which hearkens back to the delinquent-youth and biker-gang films of the 50s and 60s as filtered through the New Queer Cinema of the 80s and 90s is a few layers too deep in self-reference and stylization to appeal to most viewers, even critics – the reviews are broadly positive, but by no means glowing. I had a hunch it would work better for me than most, and that’s certainly true.
For me, the lovingly crafted aesthetics of the film went a long way. The fluroescent pinks and greens, the deep blues, the touches of cheerful crudity (beer taps in a bar are simply labeled “BEER”) in Bette Adams’ production design, the dreamy haze and comic-book compositions of Patrick Meade Jones’ cinematography, the overripe, often bluntly sexualized nostalgia of Ashley Heathcock’s costume design, and the elements of fantasy, brutality, and shifting identity which come through in Laramie Glen’s makeup design all speak to the exquisite care with which the film was created.
Even better, the cast is fully along for the bizarre ride. As Suze, who finds her inherent butchness coming to the fore after being drawn into the orbit of the Young Gents gang, Andrea Riseborough shoots the works, gleefully mimicking Brando, sneering, writhing, screaming, chewing the scenery that was set out for her delectation. It’s a performance which strikes a careful balance; she’s overwrought, but with a purpose, and she’s a joy to watch. As Arthur, Suze’s husband whose queerness and femininity grow as he’s simultaneously repulsed by the violence of the Gents and drawn to Teddy (Karl Glusman), a member with deeply buried sensitivities, Harry Melling is less well served by the script, but finds his own balance of fear and fascination.
They’re well supported, especially by Alisa Torres as their acerbic friend Ida and Ryan Simpkins as Dickie, a Young Gent with their own hidden depths (which the film only hints at). As their upstairs neighbor Maureen, who seems to be living in a dream of 50s luxury (she has a dishwasher!), Demi Moore is likewise limited by the material (or was only available for a couple of days of shooting), but commits to the campy character enough that you wish she had more to do.
And that brings me to the script by director Amanda Kramer and Noel David Taylor, which weaves together explicitly thematic conversations about gender roles, coded exchanges which dance around the characters’ inability to come out and say just what’s on their minds and in their hearts, and moments of homage and pure fantasy, as when a drag queen sings “Since I Don’t Have You” in a phone booth, then quotes Greta Garbo to a dumbstruck Suze.
This is all quite good, and leavened with a sly wit that keeps it from becoming too didactic. But if, for much of the film, you can sit back and let the images and performances carry you along, you may eventually find yourself wanting a bit more narrative momentum, and when the final scenes arrive, you may wonder just what the film is actually trying to say about these characters and their fates. The final shot in particular feels like an attempt to have its cake and eat it too; maybe the characters involved have a ménage à trois going, but it feels so obvious to me that, however queerly unconventional their bond may be, Arthur and Suze really are a match made in camp Heaven. Anyone else is an interloper.
It doesn’t help that Arthur’s journey of self-discovery is more clearly delineated than Suze’s, and that it’s rather less clear what Maureen means to Suze’s own journey – a refutation of the materialistic ideal, maybe? I don’t know. It makes you wonder if a little more attention to the story and a little less time spent on the fantasy-dance sequences (which mainly seem to make a modicum more explicit what the best parts of the film so knowingly suggest) might’ve resulted in a better film.
That said, I’m still rating this higher than most will, even if I’m rating it lower than camp devotees might. After all, a richly accomplished aesthetic and committed performances do go a long way for me, and even if the film doesn’t quite hit the bull’s-eye (whether it was trying to is another matter), it comes close enough to be worth a look for the adventurous viewer. And, with just 137 votes on the IMDb (including mine), it’s a fine start to Obscurity Month!
Score: 84
I was going to watch Till this evening, but that didn’t pan out, so…more shorts!
- New Friends (1981) – Based on the book Howard by James Stevenson, this is the story of an incompetent duck (Howard the duck, but not Howard the Duck, thankfully) who bungles migrating and ends up in New York, where he eventually befriends a frog and a trio of mice. Produced by Made-to-Order Library Productions, it’s rather crudely animated and paced, selling short a promising idea – it feels like it was made to show in day-cares and elementary schools after or in lieu of reading the book. But the rather sweet ending nearly makes up for it. Director Diane Goodrich is now known as Diane Kenna. Score: 65 – ***
- Bambi Meets Godzilla (1969) – One of the most famous animated shorts (and titles) ever made, and one of the most minimal: the animation is as basic as can be, it runs just 90 seconds, and most of the humor comes from the credits, a joke which could’ve been taken even further (though I do love “Marv Newland produced by Mr. & Mrs. Newland”), along with the very image of Bambi being smashed by that giant foot. Hard to judge as a piece of art, but unquestionably an iconic bit of nonsense. Score: 68
- Bambi’s Revenge (1976) – Bambi Meets Godzilla became famous enough quickly enough to inspire this sequel from Frank Wetzel Productions, directed by Norman L. Gibson. Bambi digs up a bundle of dynamite (God knows how that got there) and lights it, blowing off Godzilla’s foot (shown in cartoonishly gruesome detail) – but his victory is short-lived. It’s longer and more ambitious than the original, but still pretty crude, and not quite as amusing. The music, uncredited in the film, is “Avanti” by André Popp. Score: 65 – ***
- The Reason Why (1970) – A short film written by Arthur Miller, starring Eli Wallach and Robert Ryan, and it’s not better known? Hard to believe, but such is the case. A meditation on violence and the alternating fascination and repulsion it holds for us, it was clearly created in response to the Vietnam War, but never references it. It’s ostensibly concerned with the woodchucks living around Wallach’s rural property, and his feelings about hunting them; Ryan, a veteran who knows what it is to take a human life, has his own feelings on the matter. It’s not much in terms of cinema (it was made in a day by an undistinguished director) and it’s unsurprisingly a bit didactic, but it makes a keen point about the costs of killing, whatever one’s justifications, and the addictive quality of violence, powerfully embodied in Wallach’s naive cruelty and Ryan’s melancholy uncertainty. Score: 79 – ***½
The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) – ****
I go back and forth with Martin McDonagh. First, I saw In Bruges a year or two after it came out and found myself underwhelmed – too dark, perhaps, or dark in a way I wasn’t receptive to at the time. Then, I saw a production of his play The Pillowman and quite liked it. In 2012 came his second feature film, Seven Psychopaths, which I loved – and which the awards groups largely ignored. But then, five years later, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri was one of the most acclaimed films of its year – and I found it deeply frustrating, an impeccably acted film whose themes and story fell to pieces under scrutiny.
Another five years down the line, McDonagh is back, reuniting with Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson (the stars of In Bruges) and for the first time setting a film in Ireland – though born and raised in London, his parents are Irish and his early plays, including the similarly titled The Cripple of Inishmaan and The Lieutenant of Inishmore, are set there. Indeed, he had written a play called The Banshees of Inisheer, but it was not produced; the film, by all appearances, is an original screenplay.
In 1923, on the island of Inisherin, the ongoing Irish Civil War is but distant explosions and snatches of news – local policeman Peadar Kearney (Gary Lydon) admits he can’t really tell the difference between the factions, longing for the days when the Irish were united against a common English enemy. In any case, Pádraic Súilleabháin (Farrell) has more important things on his mind, namely the cold shoulder he suddenly gets one day from his best friend Colm Doherty (Gleeson). Confronting him at the local pub, Colm simply says “I don’t like you anymore.”
Pádraic can hardly comprehend this, and Colm admits to Pádraic’s sister Siobhán (Kerry Condon) that his reasons are more complicated; he’s growing more aware of the finite time he has left and would rather focus on his fiddle playing and composing (the title comes from a fiddle tune he writes) than engage in idle chatter with the cheerfully unsophisticated Pádraic. Pádraic, who had previously been happy to tend to his animals and enjoy his daily pints, broods over Colm’s rejection.
Finally, after several failed attempts at reconciliation, Colm gives Pádraic an ultimatum: if Pádraic doesn’t leave him alone, Colm will cut his own fingers off. Pádraic is horrified, and a strange kind of feud develops between them – and I don’t think it’s much of a spoiler to say that Colm’s ability to play the violin is considerably diminished before it’s all over. But there’s also the matter of Siobhán leaving Inisherin behind, the sad case of Dominic Kearney (Barry Keoghan), Peadar’s son and the victim of his abuse and the village’s scorn, and the oracular Mrs. O’Riordan (Bríd Ní Neachtain), who predicts that death will come to Inisherin.
Banshees begins somewhat shakily, with an early running gag in which the same things are said ad nauseam falling pretty flat – indeed, the film it at its weakest when it tries to be funny. But it improves as it goes along, as the characters grow richer and the mysteries of the story unfold – but not too fully, because McDonagh doesn’t try to fully solve the riddle of Colm’s behavior, or too neatly link the friction between Pádraic and Colm to the civil war (there’s no indication of political differences between them).
To a large degree, it’s a meditation on the finitude of life, both in the sense of time being too short to waste and in the sense of having no room in one’s surroundings to change or grow. Colm wants to leave something behind, even if it’s just a song, to signify his existence. Siobhán, whom Colm sees as a kindred spirit, wants more than Inisherin can offer, and leaves. Dominic, an eternal misfit in love with Siobhán, cannot conceive of a life beyond the island or the reach of his father. And Pádraic, once contented, is haunted by the notion that he could aspire to more – but that’s not really how he’s wired.
It’s also a reflection on Irish identity (which McDonagh grasps much more effectively than American society), not least because it’s set in the early days of Ireland as an independent country; one could draw parallels between Colm and Siobhán’s longings and the foundation of independent Irish culture, just as one could draw parallels between the tumultuous bond between Pádraic and Colm and the schisms which rack Irish society to this very day. But not too neatly, thankfully.
Of course, it’s extremely well-acted. Farrell struggles a bit with some of the broader humor, but poignantly conveys the simple humanity and profound hurt than Pádraic feels as his sorrows multiply; when he questions whether Colm ever cared about him at all, it’s heartbreaking. Gleeson (who is definitely supporting) embraces the ambiguity in Colm’s self-destructive resolve, while showing that, deep down, he does care about Pádraic – he just can’t give him any more of his time. Condon is a spirited voice of reason among so many stoically absurd men, but has her own shades of guilt and frustration, while Keoghan (a bit underused) smoothly develops Dominic from a comic buffoon to a tragically self-aware misfit.
And it’s very well made, with Ben Davis’ lovely cinematography making fine use of Ireland’s natural splendor (he began as a writer, but McDonagh is a very solid visual filmmaker), Carter Burwell’s simple, haunting score accentuated by a mix of folk tunes, classical pieces, and the title song, composed by Gleeson himself, and the unfussy period detail, which rings true from the start. Though it doesn’t rise above a low **** for me – at least on first viewing – it does get that far, a film with distinct virtues, much room for meditation (is Colm trying to invoke the literal self-destruction of artists like Van Gogh in his bid for immortality?), and forgivable shortcomings.
Score: 87
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