A Bad Moms Christmas (2017)

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I can’t do this shit sober. Under-appreciated and overburdened suburban moms Amy (Mila Kunis), Kiki (Kristen Bell) and Carla (Kathryn Hahn) rebel against the challenges and expectations of the biggest day of the year: Christmas. As if creating the perfect holiday for their families isn’t hard enough, they’ll have to do it while hosting and entertaining their own respective mothers (Christine Baranski, Cheryl Hines and Susan Sarandon) when they come to visit early, unwanted and uninvited, thwarting all the ladies’ plans for a laidback break from all of this as they start redecorating, competing and bitching about their useless daughters …  Please God no more pussies. The ladies are back – with a vengeance. And their moms are here too, bringing a psycho(logical) dimension to the antics which are more scatological, bittersweet and episodic this time round as the mother-daughter dynamics are explored in their varying levels of possessiveness, competitiveness and sluttiness. It’s not particularly focused and falls between the three stools of the individual dramas but the cast are excellent. Instead of a PTA election we have a carolling competition; instead of a celebrity cameo from Martha Stewart we have Kenny G the godfather of soulful jazz, as Baranski intones; and Wanda Sykes makes a welcome return as the seen-it-all therapist. Other than the innuendo and the work-related seasonal sexploitation (courtesy of the very picturesque Justin Hartley), it’s fairly anodyne entertainment but a spinoff with the Bad Grandmas seems likely courtesy of some very shrewd casting.  Written and directed again by Jon Lucas & Scott Moore. You shouldn’t have to see your mom kiss your boyfriend’s nipples

 

 

From Jon Lucas and Scott Moore.

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Scandalous Me: The Jacqueline Susann Story (1998) (TVM)

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I want to be loved. 1940s New York City: Jacqueline Susann (Michele Lee) is a second-string theatre actress and well-known party girl who turns to journalism following her marriage to press agent turned producer Irving Mansfield (Peter Riegert). Though constantly surrounded by the glitterati of the theatre and social scene she doesn’t achieve celebrity status herself and has to endure the tragedy of a brain-damaged son who has to be institutionalised. Then when she’s 47,  she publishes the raunchy bestselling novel Valley of the Dolls. Outwardly committed to publicising her work and involved in regular cross-country media campaigns, she privately battles cancer and constantly questions her troubled relationship with her society portraitist father Robert (Kenneth Welsh) who never got around to finishing her picture …  Everything I do is for you. Everything I make is for you. Treading much straighter territory than Isn’t She Great (the Bette Midler version) this adaptation by Michele Gallery of Barbara Seaman’s biography Lovely Me ironically strays indirectly and presumably unintentionally into camp now and then, and it doesn’t really do justice to the genius of its subject but Lee is excellent as this spiky confrontational woman who did things her own way. For anyone interested in the backstage antics of NYC’s post-war theatre scene with big personalities like Ethel Merman (Gloria Slade), the evolution of publishing and the making of the notorious film of Susann’s most famous novel with Barbara Parkins (Annie Laurie Williams), Patty Duke (Melanie Peterson) and the lovely Sharon Tate (Leila Johnson), there are residual attractions, but the drivers of this biopic are the private tragedies of the woman who revolutionised modern publishing by establishing her own critic-proof brand of sex and sass. Directed by Bruce McDonald. You don’t cook, you don’t clean, you never stay in. My life is never going to be dull

The Love Witch (2016)

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Men are like children. They’re very easy to please as long as we give them what they want.  Elaine (Samantha Robinson), a beautiful young modern day witch, is determined to find a man to love her following the death of Jerry, the husband from whom she was divorced. She moves from San Francisco to Arcata California to rent from a friend and in her Gothic Victorian apartment she makes spells and potions, then picks up men and seduces them. Lecturer Wayne (Jeffrey Vincent Parise) is so overcome by their hallucinatory lovefest he dies and she buries him in the grounds of his cabin (actually a huge house). Her spells work too well, and she ends up with more hapless victims including Richard (Robert Seeley) the husband of interior decorator Trish (Laura Waddell). When she at last meets the man of her dreams, Griff (Gian Keys) the policeman sent to investigate Wayne’s death, her desperation to be loved drives her to the brink of insanity and murder... l’ll bet you like to spend time in the woods. ‘To say that this oozes style is to understate the affect of a fully-fleshed sexploitation homage from auteur Anna Billen – who not only writes and directs and edits but designs the costumes, painted the artwork, designed the production, composed the theme song and for all I know manufactured the lenses and served the crew gourmet lunches from the craft vehicle.  Clearly the woman can do just about everything. It’s fabulous – a wicca-feminist twist on a serial killing murdering witch who just wants to use sex magick for ultimate personal fulfillment but gosh darn it wouldn’t ya know it, men just never know what to do with their feelings after an amazing session in bed. Shot by M. David Mullen so that this beautiful out-of-time pastiche looks like it could have been made circa 1970 (only a cell phone conversation removes the impression), it works as a satire that goes full tilt boogie at the tropes of romantic melodrama while evoking sly commentary on what men really want from women, principally in the performing styles and an occasional internal monologue. At this rate, never the twain shall meet. If there’s anything wrong with this is it’s overlength:  at two hours it could lose 25 minutes without any fatal damage, probably from the police procedural subplot. But it’s quite incredible, a loony tunes essay on gender roles that’s drenched in sex, sensuality and humour, a pulpy delirium no matter how you look at it and the soundtrack culled from Ennio Morricone’s Italian giallo scores is to die for. Literally! According to the experts, men are very fragile. They can get crushed down if you assert yourself in any way

Rough Night (2017)

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Like I said to Rob Lowe – there’s no body, there’s no case.  Jess (Scarlett Johansson) is a politician campaigning for a seat who has just got engaged to Peter (Paul W. Downs) and reluctantly reunites with three of her college friends for a wild bachelorette weekend in Miami 10 years after graduation.  She’s urged on by former best friend Alice (Jillian Bell) an unhappy fat and married mother whom she’s been steadfastly avoiding.  They are joined by Frankie (Ilana Glazer) and Blair (Zoë Kravitz) and then by Jess’ Aussie friend Pippa (Kate McKinnon) whom Alice repeatedly insults. The night of hard partying soon takes a dark turn when a male stripper (Ryan Cooper) accidentally dies at their beach house after Alice jumps on him. Amid the craziness of trying to cover it up, the women ultimately find themselves becoming closer when it matters most only to discover when the real stripper arrives that the guy they killed has just been involved in a major jewel robbery. They knock out the second guy. Then when the first stripper’s friends turn up the real fun begins – especially since Jess’ fiancé has embarked on a road trip to rescue what he believes is a failed relationship … The Hangover. Not. A truly execrable waste of talent that proves women can make movies just as bad as men when they’re behaving badly including the foul-mouthed rap soundtrack that appears to be de rigeur for such raucous outings. You might enjoy seeing Demi Moore on her knees before Kravitz in a threesome with Ty Burrell but then again you have to remember these people a) read the script and b) got paid. Unlike the viewer. Miaow. Everyone here is better than this. Directed and written by Lucia Aniello who is a woman and co-written with Downs who is not. #MeToo. Not.

My Bloody Valentine (1981)

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It happened once, it happened twice. Cancel the dance, or it’ll happen thrice. Ten years ago, an inexperienced coal miner named Tom Hanniger (Jensen Ackles) caused an accident that killed five men and put a sixth, Harry Warden (Peter Cowper), into a coma. A year later, on Valentine’s Day, Harry woke up and murdered 22 people with a pickaxe before dying. Now Tom has returned home, still haunted by the past. And something else is back in Harmony: a pickaxe-wielding killer in a miner’s mask, who may be the ghost of Harry, come to claim Tom and his friends.  The accident long forgotten, the dance resumes. Many of the town’s younger residents are excited about it: Gretchen (Gina Dick), Dave (Carl Marotte), Hollis (Keith Knight), Patty (Cynthia Dale), Sylvia (Helene Udy), Howard (Alf Humphreys), Mike (Thomas Kovacs), John (Rob Stein), Tommy (Jim Murchison), and Harriet (Terry Waterland). Of this group, Sarah (Lori Hallier), Axel (Neil Affleck), and the mayor’s returning son T.J. (Paul Kelman) are involved in a tense love triangle. … This Canadian exploitationer is notorious for its gore and violence which led to it being heavily cut but it has become something of a cult item due to its status in the vanguard of the slasher genre. What’s striking about it at this distance is how it treats its subject – seriously! You may think twice about using a nail gun after this. Written by John Beaird with a story by Stephen Miller, this is directed by George Mihalka.  And this holiday serial killer flick gave a certain great band their name. For that at least we are grateful.

La Dolce Vita (1960)

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In the summer of 1958 several layers of Roman society collided in the flashing lightbulbs of celebrity, with Hollywood actors, aristocrats, drug dealers, designers, artists, writers, prostitutes, journalists and street photographers engaging in salacious conflicts that kept several scandal rags going with outrageous tales of a demimonde that seemed to congregate around the Via Veneto. Federico Fellini was taking note. A photograph of Anita Ekberg frolicking in the Trevi Fountain seemed to encapsulate the scene and a story took root in his brain. Along with Ennio Flaiano, Tullio Pinelli, Brunello Rondi and some uncredited assistance from Pier Paolo Pasolin, he came up with the script that would define the time and the place like no other. Marcello Rubini (Marcello Mastroianni) is the urbane gossip journalist who secretly hankers after the life of his intellectual friend Steiner (Alain Cuny, playing a character loosely based on Cesare Pavese) but cannot cease his lifestyle of instant gratification. The opening shot is stunning:  a helicopter is taking a statue of Christ across a football field surrounded by ancient ruins, and chased by another helicopter. All at once the image shows us Rome ancient, imperial and modern, and God is leaving the city, opening up a world of self-indulgence. Marcello is in the second chopper and dallies with some beauties sunbathing on a roof. Right there we have some very economical socio-cultural analysis about contemporary values.  38 minutes in, the film’s raison d’etre occurs:  Fellini re-stages the Ekberg image, starring Ekberg herself. Surely this is the ultimate post-modern shot in cinema. This is a very glamorous film about incredible people in a state of pure decadence. It was much criticised at local level but Fellini had tapped into fascism’s true expression – the cultivation of image above meaning, the use of culture to promote an antithetical belief system, the failure of humanity, mob rule. Popular culture was the vehicle through which fascism was transmitted. Fellini was working as a caricaturist during Mussolini’s alliance with the Nazis, he was involved with several of the neorealist classics made right after the war and he had already made a couple of classic films:  his concept of reality did not mean the subtraction of meaning. Christening the scattini (street photographers) Paparazzo was only the start of it. He understood the power of voyeurism. Marcello’s disenchantment as he pursues his personal satyricon is groundbreaking and inimitable. The role changed Mastroianni, as he admitted. You cannot walk through Rome and not see it as it is here – ironically, Fellini recreated most of it at Cinecitta (a Mussolini factory that lured so many American filmmakers to free up their frozen profits and enjoy the sweet life):  that’s how I discovered the real Via Veneto is very hilly.  Rome is Fellini, Fellini is Rome. And as for Nino Rota’s score! As Jonathan Jones said some years ago, Fellini thought of everything first. We are still catching up. Simply great.

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My review of Shawn Levy’s book Dolce Vita Confidential which excavates in scrupulous detail the circumstances leading up to the film’s production is here:  http://offscreen.com/view/dolce-vita-swinging-rome.

Bachelor Party (1984)

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Anyone expecting the 1957 kitchen sink realism Paddy Chayefsky mini-epic starring Don Murray is in for a surprise. This is the Eighties ‘remake’ (not really) – with a time capsule quotient of nudity, raunch, lewdness, big shoulders, bigger hair and a lot of pastels. Tom Hanks is the charming bus driver dating the gorgeous shop assistant Tawny Kitaen (remember the Whitesnake videos?!) who happens to be the daughter of a disapproving millionaire who has a much better catch in mind. This is of course all about the suspension of disbelief. I for one have never been driven to school by Hanks. Naturally the guys want a big party before Tom makes the worst mistake of his life and everything but the kitchen realist sink is thrown at making it happen and persuading him to be unfaithful – but the hookers wind up at the girls’ and perform sex acts in front of her mother. Then they go see male strippers and Mom grabs a weiner. As it were. Dad shows up at the guys’ gathering and winds up having his ass whupped by whores and being photographed for posterity and the love rival takes potshots with a bow and arrow in revenge for having his Porsche souped up. There’s a gag with a donkey on cocaine but the best of all is a funny scene at a 3D movie. It’s the little things. Hanks’ winning ways save the day, in more ways than one. And the best thing? Now I never have to watch it again! From the world of Neal Israel.

9 1/2 Weeks (1986)

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Yes, I’m going there. It’s Friday after all. This was the secret shame of myself and several of my college mates courtesy of a guy who had it on VHS back in the day. We watched it regularly in a darkened room, as you do. Lunchtimes have never been the same since. I think this is how cults begin, isn’t it?! It was a notorious bomb on release and it’s not difficult to see why – how to explain an S&M memoir on date night?! 960 people stormed out of the preview audience of 1,000! One can only hazard a guess at what the remainers were doing. Really, it’s a home movie in every sense!  Ingeborg Day nee Seiler (daughter of an Austrian SS officer) wrote for feminist mag Ms. as Ingeborg Bachmann in the Seventies and documented this stage of her life pseudonymously in 1978 as ‘Elizabeth McNeill’. She had a breakdown afterwards. Gallerist Elizabeth embarks on an intense affair with Wall Street broker John who takes her places she’s never been … in her own body. The fact that she is played by the stunning Kim Basinger and he is the then-beautiful Mickey Rourke just makes it all the more, uh, pleasurable. In fact it’s their characterisation that makes this erotica work. Screenwriters Zalman King and Patricia Louisanna Knop (and Sarah Kernochan) turned soft porn into their avocation, while underrated director Adrian Lyne just makes everything appear lovely and astonishing as you’d expect from someone who helped change the look of cinema:  you’ll never look at the contents of your refrigerator the same way again. Seriously sexy and the soundtrack is great!

Viva Maria! (1965)

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Never did terrorists look lovelier than here, in Louis Malle’s subversive take on the buddy movie with Brigitte Bardot an IRA activist teaming up in Mexico with vaudeville performer Jeanne Moreau and getting more popular as they incorporate stripping into their musical act. They fall for the revolutionary leader Flores (George Hamilton) and join him and his comrades in trying to overthrow the regime of El Dictador (Jose Angel Espinoza). When Flores is shot Maria 1 (JM) agrees to fulfill his deathbed desire and the Marias organise a peasant army …  Malle instructed writer Jean-Claude Carriere to incorporate the tropes of the action adventure and westerns like Vera Cruz, just with female protaganists and financing was finalised only with Moreau’s participation. The two ladies got on very well together during a 16 week shoot on location and this was a huge hit in its day.  Hamilton is excellent as their male foil leading Malle to wonder why he didn’t act more. The cinematography by the great Henri Decae is sublime and Georges Delerue supplies a suitably gorgeous score. The laughs never quit!

Closer (2004)

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Patrick Marber is a hell of a writer. I loved his play Dealer’s Choice so when I heard his next play Closer was opening in London I grabbed a flight:  I just couldn’t wait. And it was – is – superb. Evidently I wasn’t the only fan because Mike Nichols directed this adaptation a half dozen or so years later. This is a modern and classic story of the roundelay of relationships:  NYC stripper Alice (Natalie Portman) is literally knocked sideways when she meets obituarist Dan (Jude Law) on a London street. A year later he’s written a book about her and flirts with the American photographer Anna (Julia Roberts)hired to do the jacket. It’s another coup de foudre. He messes in an online chatroom and unwittingly introduces Anna to dermatologist Larry (Clive Owen, who played Dan on the stage) whom she marries. A year after her exhibition (titled Strangers) opens, all their tangled relationships fall asunder as infidelity after infidelity is revealed… A play on Cosi fan tutte (with a cunningly integrated score by Suzana Peric), this is a stunningly intelligent treatment about love and sex:  and it messes with your head because it treats of the subject as it really is. Identity. Roleplay. Images. Pretending to be the person the other person thinks they want. (Unutterably exhausting, as Gone Girl informed us).  The closing reveal is a right shocker to people not paying attention. Alice is at the centre of everything:  that is clear when you rewind it mentally. The soundtrack is distinguished by Damien Rice’s extraordinary song The Blower’s Daughter. London looks great thanks to Stephen Goldblatt, it’s edited superbly and all the performances are excellent. I wish Marber would write more.