7 stars

dir: Siddharth Anand

2023

I have been on something of an Indian film kick lately, and I think I’m pretty much at the end of it, for now. I know nothing about this franchise, or about anything surrounding these flicks, other than the “real” world stuff around them, and as such I am as uninterested in watching nationalistic propaganda that is pro-India as I am to watch any nationalistic bullshit that’s pro any country. Also, this is India’s biggest box office flick of the year, and the second biggest flick in Hindi of all time. So someone went to see it, lots of patriotic someones.

Your countries and their governments are all equally worthless and self-serving, in my eyes, so fuck all y’all.

But within a certain context, I can allow for that kind of bullshit, when it suits the setting and a narrative – in other contexts it can be almost inspiring - hence my enjoyment for the equally implausible Indian film R R R that came out last year and wowed audiences. It worked because the Indian heroes (yay!) were fighting the colonialist and cruel British (boo!).

Here, the heroes are conspicuously Hindu Indian, and the villains are kinda Pakistani Muslims, and former Indian heroes turned villains who renounce their homeland. And they’re fighting over Kashmir, so…

Agents who die in service of their country in this movie yell “Jai Hind!” before they die, which doesn’t translate to but means “Long Live India!” The villain routinely mocks the hero for loving “Mother India”, which he feels isn’t worthy of that love. In the flick’s creepiest and least comprehensible scene, the villainous Jim (John Abraham) tells the hero that he never thought of India as his mother, and more of as a lover, and I was like “the fuck is this idiot talking about? What weird nationalistic incest bullshit is he peddling?”

dir: Steven Spielberg

2022

It’s kinda funny that the most successful director of all time has been kvetching and nervy about making a film about his own life for over two decades.

Most directors might incorporate autobiographical elements into their screenplays, especially someone who’s made as many films as Spielberg, thus obviating the need to maybe have to do their own biopics, but, really, there probably isn’t anyone that should have to talk Senor Spielbergo out of anything.

Both Spielberg, and Spielbergo, his non-union Mexican equivalent, have done enough for both cinema in general and the film industry specifically. He should get the chance to shine whatever light he wants on his own origin story. It’s only fair.

It doesn’t necessarily make it that interesting for viewers. For all his achievements, his life story isn’t interesting, perhaps not as interesting as his achievements. It’s, like, the average stuff of life, told with Technicolor brightness and bland, shiny perfection.

But he’s a person, he grew up, he experienced stuff. He had parents. He has sisters. Things happened.

He, being Sammy (Gabriel LaBelle) in this version, became obsessed with cinema after watching a train crash when his parents took him to see The Greatest Show on Earth. As a nervous, fearful child, recording a toy train crashing over and over again allowed him to feel in control for the first time in his life.

How do I know this? Because Sammy’s mum Mitzi (Michelle Williams) specifically sets it out for us, telling her husband (Paul Dano) that it must be the case like the dime store psychologist that she is.

Sammy is off and away, obsessed with movies and movie-making now, to the detriment of any other human relationships around him, but other people aren’t as film obsessed. They’re more fixated on life and love and … that’s about it.

The dad is completely dismissive of his son’s hobby, as he calls it, and it becomes, at least for me, a hilarious illustration of certain parents and their expectations, and how they can never be satisfied.

In real life his dad was called Arnold, but in the flick he’s called Burt Fabelman. You can imagine in life that even later on once his son conquered the world of cinema, if he ever introduced himself to people, and they would ask if he was related to Steven Spielberg, and he replied in the affirmative, you can imagine people going berserk with praise.

And then you can imagine Burt / Arnold muttering, “yeah, but still he’s no doctor.”

dir: Baz Luhrmann

2022

I would say I’m in two minds about this flick, but that wouldn’t strictly be true. This is a Barry Luhrmann film after all.

His films, at their best, are hysterical, over-edited monstrosities where performances take a distant back seat to hyper-editing and high energy sequences that try to obscure the vast emptiness underneath. All the great costuming and set design, all the impassioned, arch performances are thrown into a blender and shattered into a perplexing array of disparate shards, and then poured out through a firehose onto an unsuspecting and unwilling audience.

That’s overstating things, surely. He has birthed one utter monstrosity into this world, being the film that summarised Australia called, um, Australia, which is so terrible that around its release it resulted in a massive shortage in negative adjective descriptors, because they were all used up in describing the sheer multitude of ways in which it achieved peak terribleness.

And I guess Romeo & Juliet and Moulin Rouge have their fans. Great Gatsby doesn’t have any fans and sleeps very much alone, but is almost worth it entirely for that great shot of DiCaprio raising that champagne glass to the peak crescendo moment scored with George Gershwin’s Rhapsody in Blue.

It’s an insane, overdone, peak cheesy moment done to perfection. Luhrmann has always been better suited to film clips and laundry detergent commercials than he ever could be at long form movies.

What is a movie, anyway? Is it a collection of moments strung together thematically to both highlight individual moments but also deliver an overarching flow that’s meant to congeal in our brains as everything connects together, leaving us with some lasting impressions and feelings about people and places?

This Elvis film, for the most part, is incapable of doing that. It does not want to tell a coherent story about Elvis’s life or about what made Elvis a phenomenon. Only a fool watches a Luhrmann film wanting a coherent anything about anything.

There is a unifying, over-arching connector throughout all of this (it’s over two and a half hours long), but unfortunately that’s part of what makes it such a fucking disjointed slog to get through – the terrible narration of Colonel Tom Parker (Tom Hanks, ugh), telling us Elvis’s story through the lens of when Colonel Parker started exploiting the poor boy in the 1950s, through to the poor boy’s death in the 70s at the age of 42.

dir: Eric Appel

2022

Somedays I’ll take ‘reasonably fun’ over flat out hilarious. And this is fun and silly, and so it should be.

It purports to be a biopic of Weird Al Yankovic, but I’m pretty sure, other than the inclusion of a character called Al Yankovic and the inclusion of many of his songs, none of this really pretends to be about his actual life.

You can look at it two ways (at least, I mean, you’re free to look at it from thousands of perspectives if you choose); In wanting to parody the whole biopic format of famous musicians, they do a parody of a parody, closer to Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story rather than Walk the Line, The Johnny Cash story, a film that had Reese Witherspoon playing June Carter Cash actually saying to people “You boys ain’t Walking the Line”.

Which one is the parody, I ask you. Anyway, the other way to look at it is that Al Yankovic the man is not really the kind of person whose life would make for interesting tabloid or trashy biopic fodder. Regardless or despite his success infecting our brains with his catchy parodies in the 80s and 90s, he never let that ruin him the way money and fame, or the pursuit of such, have ruined countless others. At the peak of his success he got married, he’s a Christian, he’s never been a drinker…so that’s about it.

For him and for the screenwriters here, it’s far more entertaining to create an alternative history version of both Earth history and the history of Yankovic’s life and untimely death (he’s still alive, I assure you), one which only occasionally connects with actual world history.

I say this knowing full well that the array of comedians, hacks and actors happy to have tiny cameos in the flick are probably happy to do so out of a) love of Al Yankovic or b) love of attaching themselves remora-like to anything that will see their mugs appear onscreen, but it’s great to see all these shmucks in one place, playing other shmucks of the 80s. There are some entirely surreal scenes where moderately famous stand-ups are playing moderately famous B and C listers of the past. If you know who they are and who’s they’re playing, it’s mildly amusing.

If you have no idea who they are, or who they’re playing (ie. by some unlikely sequence of events you are under 30 and you are somehow reading one of my reviews as well), it will mean nothing, and you’re probably only watching it because you love the Harry Potter books or movies so much you see Daniel Radcliffe in every single thing he’s in.