The Weekly Gravy #141

I’ll start the week off by watching some more shorts by the recently deceased Kenneth Anger:

• Rabbit’s Moon (1979) – A few years after the first version was released, Anger re-edited Rabbit’s Moon, speeding up the frame rate, changing the soundtrack from classic doo-wop to a 70s rock song called “Things That Go Bump in the Night,” changing the stylized zoom of the Moon to what appears to be stock footage, and cutting short the ending. It’s a distinctly different experience; the original version was a dreamy, melancholy piece of commedia, while this version is more frenetic and loses a lot of the theme which made the original version so interesting. It’s not terrible (it feels like something you’d see on MTV or VH1 in the 80s or early 90s) but it’s markedly inferior to the original. Score: 66 – ***
• Scorpio Rising (1963) – Maybe I’m just getting used to Anger’s style, or maybe I’m in the right frame of mind, but this is the first of his films that really impressed me. A depiction of contemporary biker culture, it interweaves the aesthetic (showing how much care these punks put into their outfits) the satirical (clips of a child playing with wind-up toys, suggesting the bikers aren’t so much more mature) the homoerotic (it’s Anger, after all) the transgressive (both in its use of Christian imagery and its depiction of neo-Nazism) and the wild lives these young men lead, ending in arbitrary tragedy and set to a fine selection of pop music (including “Blue Velvet” and “Heat Wave”). Anger’s often chaotic style fits the milieu and his editing, despite some repetitive passages, blends his contrasting and complementary images superbly. The jacket which spells out the title and Anger’s name with studs is perhaps the perfect summation of his style. Score: 89 – ****
• Inauguration of the Pleasure Dome (1954) – On a frame-by-frame basis, this is a stunning film to look at: Anger’s use of color is simply astonishing, the settings, costumes, and makeup are rich and imaginative, and when the images are combined (originally it was designed to be shown on three screens) they complement one another quite well indeed – note also the clips from Puce Moment. But it’s also a film full of Thelemic rituals and symbols which I, knowing little of Thelema, could not identify or appreciate – and given that it’s Anger’s longest film, at 38 minutes, all the laughing and obscure imagery wears a bit thin. But it was eye-filling enough to carry me through the once. The music (Janáček’s Glagolitic Mass) makes a suitable accompaniment. Score: 74 – ***
• Lucifer Rising (1981*) – In some ways a companion piece to Inauguration, full of Thelemic ritual and symbolism, especially those drawn from the practices of ancient Egypt. But as it was shot mostly in the late 60s and early 70s, it’s got a dreamier, more psychedelic style, and Anger’s filmmaking is more sophisticated and controlled; it has one of his finest images (the nighttime procession by torch-bearing figures) and benefits greatly from the location shooting in Egypt, Germany, and the UK. It’s also got a fine score, almost ambient at times, by Manson Family associate Bobby Beausoleil. Like Inauguration, it starts to drag after a while, especially for the uninitiated, but I’d still put it among Anger’s better films. (*IMDb has this as a 1972 film, but the print is copyrighted 1981, so I’m going with that.) Score: 82 – ***½
• Eaux d’Artifice (1953) – A woman (Carmilla Salvatorelli) in Baroque dress walks about the grounds of the Villa d’Este near Rome, passing by its many elaborate fountains, with much attention paid to the flow of water and the way it catches the moonlight. Throughout, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons plays. The first section is quite lovely and melancholy, suggesting the lonely isolation of the woman (the blue tinting helps), but it loses a bit of steam until picking up again at the very end. It looks neat, it just peaks too early for its own good. Score: 73 – ***
• Mouse Heaven (2004) – Finishing my Anger-thon with one of his late films, an overview of Mickey Mouse memorabilia with a soundtrack spanning the decades from his introduction in the late 20s to the present. (True story: I stayed at my friend Nate’s house overnight, and when his young daughter came home in the morning, she watched Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. His reign continues.) There are some amusing subversive touches and points when the music and images really harmonize, especially when The Proclaimers’ “The Joyful Kilmarnock Blues” plays, but for most of the film, Anger doesn’t seem to have much to say about Mickey or his place in culture, and despite touching on how creepy some of the merch is, doesn’t capitalize on that. And I’ll be damned if I can figure out why he included clips from Strangers on a Train. Score: 64 – **½

Rocktober: Southland Tales (2006) – *½

As a bad-movie buff, I’d been curious about Southland Tales for years – and its rehabilitation in some quarters, after its profoundly negative initial reception, offered some hope I might actually like it. I didn’t, and Nate absolutely hated it, but we knew the risks when we began Rocktober – though this is, by a long way, the least commercial film Johnson has ever made, and given his recent career choices, is ever likely to make. I wish I could say this was a tantalizing glimpse of what he might have been, but such is not the case.

Southland Tales is a massive film, encompassing a wide array of characters and tackling an enormous range of themes, including the War on Terror, 2000s celebrity culture, police brutality, Revelations, alternative energy, the surveillance state, time travel, and the presence of borderline and outright pornography in mainstream culture. Johnson plays Boxer Santaros, a Hollywood star whose wife, Madeline (Mandy Moore) is the daughter of Republican senator Bobby Frost (Holmes Osborn).

Boxer has written a screenplay called The Power with porn star Krysta Now (Sarah Michelle Gellar), and wants to play the lead role, an LAPD officer, for which he arranges a ride-along with Officer Ronald Taverner (Seann William Scott) – only Ronald is the hostage of “neo-Marxist” operators, and his activist twin Roland takes his place, professing to be a racist brute and planning to involve Boxer in a staged double-killing (the “victims” are played by Amy Poehler and Wood Harris) – but another officer, Bookman (Jon Lovitz) crashes the operation and kills Poehler and Harris for real.

There’s also the matter of a tidal-energy project headed by Baron von Westphalen (Wallace Shawn), an eccentric tycoon who’s one of the most powerful men in the world, which happens to be slowing down the Earth’s rotation enough to open an inter-dimensional rift. And there’s the matter of US-IDent, headed by Bobby’s wide Nana Mae Frost (Miranda Richardson), which spies on the American people and, in true bad-movie fashion, is simultaneously omnipotent and incompetent.

Did I mention all of this is taking place in the shadow of World War III, which began with nuclear attacks on Texas, but which is scarcely mentioned after the opening exposition dump? And all of this is narrated by Pilot Abilene (Justin Timberlake), a Revelations-quoting, drug-addicted ex-movie star veteran who’s also an old comrade-in-arms of one of the Taverners, though I’m sure I can’t remember which. And there’s a fake commercial where two CGI SUVs have sex.

A few other cast members include Kevin Smith (wholly unrecognizable), John Larroquette (who gets tased in the groin), Bai Ling, Nora Dunn, Janeane Garofalo, Zelda Rubinstein, Beth Grant, Cheri Oteri, Will Sasso, and Christopher Lambert. And a few other plot elements include a zeppelin, a sex tape, a fantasy/drug-trip musical number, a bill to restrict the powers of US-IDent cleverly named Proposition 69, and an ATM heist slightly less believable than the one depicted in Barbershop.

As I noted, there are those who’ve made the case that Southland Tales was a misunderstood classic, or ahead of its time, or so loaded with ideas and ambition that one can forgive its faults. I should note that I watched the theatrical cut and not the director’s cut, that I haven’t read the graphic-novel prequels which help establish the many characters and plot threads, and that I’m not very familiar with Revelations. All that said – this movie is not good.

Yes, it touches on many ideas, some of them quite relevant, but doesn’t do anything with them. It doesn’t say anything about the surveillance state, simply depicting it as the plaything of the comically villainous Nana Mae. It doesn’t say anything about the War on Terror, or seem to know much about war to begin with – as Nate pointed out, if “World War 3” began with nuclear attacks, why would there be a need to re-establish the draft and put boots on the ground? (The film never mentions drones that I know of.)

Worse, it fails completely on a dramatic level. We’re never invested in any of the characters because none of them are remotely well developed, and we’re never engaged in the story because it’s so muddled and overstuffed. The satire fails because it’s neither funny nor insightful, the reality-bending elements fail because the world of the film is already too ridiculous to take seriously, and the philosophical elements fail because we’re too busy trying to understand what the hell is going on (and failing) to consider the deeper meaning.

Most damning of all is how drab most of it is; as determinedly weird as the material is, it’s desperately short on memorable visuals, and the fantastical finale is badly undermined by some very ugly mid-2000s CGI.

As for the cast, some have their moments: Shawn hams it up enjoyably, and Lovitz’ cold-blooded take on his standard obnoxious persona is intriguing, but most simply blend into the film’s muddled dreariness. Johnson, for his part, plays a character who’s supposedly suffering from amnesia and also prone to fidgeting nervously when distressed, but at other times he’s as cool and charming as ever, and it simply comes off as another example of the film’s murky storytelling. He’s certainly been worse, but he’s unable to rise above the script.

I’ve seen most of writer-director Richard Kelly’s Donnie Darko, albeit a long time ago; I’d like to go back and see how it holds up, given the failure of this film and his third (and to date last) feature, The Box. Maybe it was the one film he got right. Or maybe, like Neill Blomkamp, the seeds of his later failures are apparent even in his best work. But he may yet make a comeback, because he’s a pimp. And pimps don’t commit suicide.

Score: 34

The Little Mermaid (2023) – ***

My chronological trek through Disney’s animated features hasn’t taken me as far as 1989’s The Little Mermaid (I have six other films to get through), and so, as of this writing, it’s probably been a good 25 years since I last saw it – assuming I have seen it. Does that put me at a disadvantage when reviewing this film, since I can’t give it proper credit for what it does differently, what it adds to the original, what it takes away? Or does it make it easier to take this film, indebted as it is to a film that opened five days before I was born, on its own terms?

I know it adds around 50 minutes of screentime (clocking in at a hefty 135 minutes), adds three new songs by Lin-Manuel Miranda – who also revised the lyrics for Alan Menken and Howard Ashman’s original songs – and beefs up the character of Prince Eric. I also know it removes a couple of songs, most notably “Les Poissons.” Beyond that, I can’t comment too much on the differences.

There is, of course, the matter of this being a live-action version, with copious amounts of photo-realistic CGI to not only make Halle Bailey and Javier Bardem into convincing merpeople, but to make Sebastian, Scuttle, and Flounder look like the creatures they are, yet behave like the characters they are. That, of course, is the reason for the season; otherwise, Disney could’ve saved themselves $250 million (or 10 times what Everything Everywhere cost) and just reissued the original.

The live-action approach doesn’t work that well in the underwater scenes; they tend to be poorly lit, with the vivid “Under the Sea” sequence a major exception, and the live actors never feel completely natural in the computer-animated settings, hampering some otherwise fine performances. Above the surface, it looks and plays more effectively, with some nice sets, colorful costumes, and a few really fine shots courtesy of cinematographer Dion Beebe. (I should note that, throughout the film, I found singing and dialogue alike rather hard to understand.)

And yet, even without a strong connection to the original film, it plays like a cover, and not one which seeks to impose a new reading or style on the material, but one which won’t ruffle the feathers of old fans while keeping newcomers engaged. That’s all good and well, but it’s the kind of dry, corporate filmmaking which keeps most of these live-action remakes in the *** range; of the remakes I’ve seen, only The Jungle Book rises above it, and only Mulan sinks below it.

What keeps this version somewhat afloat, in the absence of much inspiration, is the acting. Bailey is a fine Ariel, her wide, gentle eyes reflecting the boundless curiosity and sincerity which drive Ariel to seek a new life among humanity, taking Ursula’s dangerous offer and defying Triton to live her truth; she plays the ensuing moments of naïveté with a guileless charm, and makes a sweet couple with Jonah Hauer-King’s earnest Eric, who doesn’t get the chance to outsing her (her “Part of Your World” is superb), but gets more than the character in the original film, thanks to Miranda’s new song “Wild Uncharted Waters.”

Melissa McCarthy, unsurprisingly, has considerable fun with Ursula, whether or not she does much to improve upon Pat Carroll’s voicework in the original; she wisely keeps the comic elements of the character in check, allowing her unequivocal malice to shine the darker. Bardem’s Triton is very good when he gets the chance to be, especially when he’s calmly putting the fear of God in Sebastian, but when he emerges from the water to give Ariel and Eric his blessing at the end, he looks like Javier Bardem in a false beard, floating in a studio tank. Not too magical.

Daveed Diggs’ Sebastian is a touch overripe, but generally enjoyable; Awkwafina is a likably scrappy Scuttle, though her new song “The Scuttlebutt” is Miranda at his most mechanical; Jacob Tremblay is okay as Flounder. Better is Art Malik (haven’t seen him in a while) as Sir Grimsby, who tries to make Eric behave like a prince, but knows when to let young love take its course. Finally, Noma Dumezweni is adequate as Eric’s adoptive mother Queen Selina, but she doesn’t get enough to do.

Indeed, for all the additional running time this version has to work with, it leaves a lot underdeveloped. Aside from Ariel and Triton, the only merpeople we see (at least beyond a glimpse) are her sisters, who remain ciphers throughout; given that, it’s all too easy to understand why Ariel wants to leave. It also makes it hard to understand why Ursula wants so badly to seize control of Triton’s throne; unless she’s itching to rule over a bunch of fish, she seems to have all she needs in her grotto.

It’s kind of an apt metaphor for Disney, who spent a lot of time and money to make a film which, pleasant as it is, will never outshine the original. Next year we’ll get Snow White (hopefully it’s been long enough since Mirror Mirror and Snow White & the Huntsman) and Mufasa (which better be a good use of Barry Jenkins’ time) and plenty more are on the horizon. Makes you wonder just who the poor unfortunate souls in this scenario are.

Score: 69

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse (2023) – ****

On one hand, Across the Spider-Verse isn’t much more original than The Little Mermaid, as it showcases one of the most recognizable superheroes around – thanks to nine starring features in the last 21 years, including Into the Spider-Verse, and supporting roles in several more – and makes extensive use of the multiverse concept; it isn’t even the first Spider-Man film so to do, thanks to No Way Home. On the other hand, it tells its story so well, and so cleverly builds upon its place in a sprawling franchise, that it becomes a triumphant entertainment in its own right.

We begin with Gwen Stacy, aka Spider-Woman (Hailee Steinfeld), who must leave her universe after her police captain father (Shea Whigham) tries to arrest her, believing her to be guilty of killing her universe’s Peter Parker. She does so with the help of Miguel O’Hara, aka Spider-Man 2099 (Oscar Isaac), who oversees a multiverse-spanning network of Spideys, and Jessica Drew, aka Spider-Woman (Issa Rae), who becomes her mentor.

Only then do we start to follow Miles Morales (Shameik Moore), who’s dealing with all the headaches of adolescence while serving as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He misses Gwen, and she misses him, and when she visits his universe, he’s overjoyed to see her – and at once fascinated and jealous of her adventures with O’Hara’s team. He’s also dealing with The Spot, aka Dr. Jonathan Ohnn (Jason Schwartzman), a scientist who was mutated in an accident he blames Miles for and who can rip the fabric of space-time, making him exceedingly hard to capture.

Turns out Gwen is also keeping tabs on The Spot, but she loses track of him while visiting Miles, and is summoned by O’Hara – and Miles decides to follow, seeing for himself just how enormous the Spider-Verse is (and we already got a pretty good idea of that in the first film). He also meets Hobie Brown, aka Spider-Punk (Daniel Kaluuya), a committed anarchist whose universe Gwen crashes in sometimes – much to Miles’ chagrin. He’s also reunited with Peter Parker (Jake Johnson), his old mentor and now father to a spider-powered little girl.

But he also meets O’Hara, who angrily tells him his actions have disrupted a “canon event” – a stage in the life of every Spider which helps to define their arc. The specifics vary, but the basic idea carries across the entire Spider-Verse, and Miles has jeopardized its very existence – and when he realizes that his own canon event would require a devastating loss, he opts to defy O’Hara and follow his heart. We build to a cliff-hanger – and are told that the story will continue in Beyond the Spider-Verse, coming next year.

Into the Spider-Verse was a very fine film, especially its reality-bending climax, which nearly pushed it into **** for me (and it might get there on a second viewing), but Across the Spider-Verse is even better, taking what worked in that film and building upon it to truly epic levels. It runs 140 minutes – one of the longest animated features ever made – and it’s only the first part of the story, but it’s hard to mind, because it gives us so much bang for our buck.

The animation alone, especially seen on a big screen where you can appreciate the sheer scope of its settings and the wealth of detail in every image – and you’d need to go through it a frame at a time to get it all – makes it a must. The stunning colors, the humanely crafted characters, the literal warping of reality, the cunning use of the medium (there’s one emotional scene where the backgrounds turn into blurry abstractions, to reflect the human drama but also to focus our attention on it), the aesthetic anarchy of Hobie…it overflows with beautiful images that serve the material at every turn.

But the material more than holds its own. We have the question of what it means to be a Spider and what sacrifices must be made to follow that path. We have the family drama between Miles and his parents and between Gwen and her father, amplified by the secrets they have to keep but rooted in relatable emotions. We have The Spot, his bizarre abilities, and his unequivocal determination to make Miles pay for what he’s supposedly done. We have O’Hara and his increasingly fanatical efforts to keep the Spider status quo intact. We have the sweet, sad relationship between Miles and Gwen; she knows Gwens across the Spider-Verse tend to meet unfortunate ends, but she cares about him too much to leave him behind.

How all this will resolve in Beyond remains to be seen, but on its own Across is a joy to behold, with superb voice acting, magnificent editing (this deserves to be the first animated film to get an Oscar nomination for its cutting), and a wonderfully modulated mixture of fast-paced humor, patient drama, and exciting action. It’s the best animated film I’ve seen in quite a while (possibly since Soul), and the best superhero film I’ve seen since…Black Panther, maybe? It’s a reminder – just as Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 was – that franchise filmmaking can work beautifully when the focus is on making a good movie and not just connecting the dots.

Score: 90