BACK IN PARADISE

 

Still nursing a small case of L.A. Nose, I am back in the land of Ponce de Leon and already feeling younger, better, and… no question about it… warmer. I am not, however, feeling particularly charitable toward the collection of films I have seen of late but have yet to review. Let me start  with the smallest of a long list which begins with three documentaries: Martha, The Bibi Files and Waltzing with Brando, all three may be seen on Netflix.

OK, OK, I know, the latter is not really a documentary… but I didn’t know that for most of the time I was watching the “biographical film.”  Billy Zane, the producer and star of the project, does such a good Brando that I thought I was watching archival home movie footage of the super star, rather than an actor’s interpretation … AND I WORKED WITH BRANDO ON TWO FILMS!  Admittedly, it was almost 60 years ago, but…. one does not forget Marlon Brando (well, apparently one does). Actor Zane really had me fooled, but that said… in all candor, I cannot imagine why anyone made this film or why anyone other than folks like me would be interested in watching the thing. I could go on, but why? Only a Brando freak could possibly enjoy this movie, and I am betting there are not too many of us left.

Martha, as you may have surmised is the very same Martha Stewart of food and fashion fame. Oftentimes, an individual must die before a documentary about their life is warranted---in this instance a successful career and a prison sentence suffices. The film is pretty good and worthy of your time on Netflix provided you have any interest in documentaries or the lady herself.

The Bibi Files might be truly scandalous if one never watched MSNBC or read a newspaper. There is a lot of footage leaked from what are reportedly confidential interviews between Israeli authorities and Mr. Netanyahu… who comes off as a junior league Bob Menendez, settling as he does for cigars for himself and cases of champagne for his wife. Sort of a yawn. Personally, I honestly believe Israel’s prime minister is a much bigger crook, and guilty of a whole lot more than this film implies, but not only are the cops not asking those questions, the filmmakers themselves barely scratch the surface  of corruption. 

Nosferatu is another film about which I would advise fellow audience members to forgo. The original, a silent classic made in 1922 by director F.W. Murnau…. set a standard and had a definite look… both cinematically and in the way Count Dracula was to be portrayed. For whatever reason this latest version of the mother of all suckers (what, too crude?) tries hard to emulate that original look in an attempt, I suppose, to prove the old saw that sexiness is in the groin of the beholder. Versions of Dracula between the two Nosferatus had the Count looking a lot more interesting to the female of the species… as well as audience members. Whomever it was that came up with the line, “Don’t be afraid… only one moment of pain and then… eternal life” never saw this movie to realize just how long a “moment” can be… or how painful. If you insist, it may be viewed on Amazon Prime.

Part One of Wicked is two hours and forty minutes long…. And there is no Dorothy! Part Two will not appear anywhere locally until next fall so don’t even think about making a Barbie/Oppenheimer kind of evening at your local theatre. This movie gives “over the top” new meaning. It is very overblown, very gay, and very green. The yellow brick road is a long and winding thing, but once we actually arrive at the Emerald City the pace begins to pick up. The fact that it takes the better part of two hours to get there is… you should excuse the expression… a Shanda… not only for the neighbors, but for anyone watching.

I’m Still Here is a true story out of the Brazil of over a half century ago with the very real feeling of don’t be surprised if it happens here. The politics of a police state in action and its impact on a loving and loveable family is truly poignant and, understandably, it is winning a plethora of awards internationally. Fernanda Torres took the Golden Globe for Best Actress and is nominated for an Oscar for her role in the film. The movie is too long at two hours and 18 minutes but not so long as to be off-putting. In these days where authoritarians seem to be cropping up all over the planet, a movie with this kind of content should be required viewing. See it on Netflix.

The hot motion picture of the year is about capitalism, antisemitism, addiction,  immigration, fidelity, art and architecture, as well as having at its core, strong sexual themes. The Brutalist is on everyone’s list of favorites to win multiple Academy Awards. Maybe. I would readily agree that it is an important film but would quickly add that it is also a most uneven one. There were times where I found the filmmaking itself to be downright klutzy…. plenty of moments of taking time (sometimes too much time) to make a point and others, where important moments are practically thrown away. Don’t get me wrong. It’s a good movie, but not (as advertised) a great one.

Finally…. I needed a break and Turner Classic Movies provided me one with the original A Star is Born starring Fredric March and Janet Gaynor. Like most of you, I had seen versions two, three, and four (Judy Garland/James Mason… Barbra Streisand/Kris Kristofferson…Lady Gaga/Bradley Cooper) but I had never seen the Selznick Production that started it all. Janet Gaynor was nearing the end of her career when the movie was made nearly 90 years ago… by then really a bit long in the tooth to play this role… but Mr. March was fabulous and so is this movie. By far the best of all the Star is Born idiom… and, in fact, the best of all that are mentioned in today’s Notes From a Warm Island.

 

Barney Rosenzweig 

 

The Not-So Funny Papers

 I was two years old when Batman was introduced via DC comics, nine months after Superman made his debut. A year later the dark knight’s hometown of Gotham came on the scene and the threesome: Superman, Batman, and that unwholesome community of Gotham, transformed the comic book industry.

By the time I was a young adult, I had pretty much given up on Superman, Wonder Woman, and the DC oeuvre, with the notable exception of Batman. There was something about that dystopian universe that always continued to fascinate me.

I never read or saw a single Aquaman, or a Flash, Green Lantern, Cyborg, or a Green Arrow.

The super hit movies featuring Captain America and/or The Avengers I have given short shrift, and I have written about the Deadpool series while stifling a yawn. For clarity, these few are from the Marvel universe, not DC; a distinction without much of a difference… at least to the average layman.

As a kid, another favorite… right up there alongside Batman but for vastly different reasons… was Captain Marvel. He, too, is 85 years old but only joined the DC universe a half century ago. Because of complicated legal clearances, the good Captain (now Shazam except in the newer female versions) and his alter ego, Billy Batson, never really got to compete on a level playing field with Superman or Batman, but of late he/she/they have bounced back a bit in the world of motion pictures.

Despite the historical references, I am forced to admit that my comic book credentials are limited… every bit as much in the idiom of film as they were back in the day before my mom innocently tossed out an incredibly valuable collection of DC comics on the afternoon I left for college.

Back to Gotham’s vigilant vigilante: as nearly everyone knows, Batman has a plethora of fascinating/over-the-top bad guys with whom he is honor bound to interact. Some have become stars of their own films… origin stories, if you will, which give us the humble beginnings of these various villains before the coming of age of the caped crusader. Many, if not all, are old enough to have been around on that evening of trauma when a pre-pubescent Bruce Wayne witnessed the gunning down of his parents in a dark Gotham alley.

I have already praised The Penguin, the dramatic series on MAX that stars Colin Farrell in the title role. Now, once again, comes Joaquin Phoenix, reprising his 2019 Oscar winning role in The Joker in the motion picture, The Joker: Folie a Deux.

Both Joker films have been somewhat controversial. The first received mixed reviews despite grossing over a billion dollars worldwide and bringing the film 11 Academy nominations and its leading man the award for Best Actor.

Five years later, I could not remember whether I had even seen the first film or not. I had, of course, but apparently, was not that knocked out since it failed to leave much of an entry in my memory bank.

Fans of the first film have dug in with vituperative remarks about the sequel, even though this latest version has been put together by the same creative team as the first with the impressive addition of Lady Gaga. To the dismay of DC, the fan reaction has been reflected in lackluster business at the box office.

Personally, I don’t care what anyone says… it’s a very interesting movie. The two stars give their all, and the direction and production design are spot on perfect.

I wrote “interesting” rather than “good” because I readily acknowledge this film is not for everyone. But folks, it is really interesting. A leading character with a split personality in a film also freakishly bi-polar, split between a grim/dark look at an anti-utopian Gotham… and a musical! And they bring it off. The writer, the director, the actors… bravo.

I took the time to look again at the now oft revered 2019 “original.” I didn’t like it as much as the new one. I gotta tell ya, I missed the musical numbers. I missed Lady Gaga. I hope you don’t. Both films can be seen on MAX.

Then there is Didi… the polar opposite of The Joker films. A small movie about an even smaller leading man---barely a teenager--- trying to find his way by text and skateboard in a modern-day California suburb. It is charming, poignant, very nicely put together, and I have nothing more to say on the subject except to recommend that you try it on Peacock or Amazon Prime.

Finally, rounding out this troika, is the season’s surprise movie. It seems there is one every year and often it is an off-beat film such as this that tends to knock the Academy members off their chairs and gets their votes. The film that fills that space this season is Emilia Perez (hello, this just in, thirteen nominations from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences). It can be viewed on Netflix and may or may not get enough of those wide-eyed votes to which I referred, but I would not bet against it.

Once again, some mixed reviews, but I found this a very worthwhile way to spend a couple of hours with some happy cinematic surprises, an interesting couple of characters, and some fabulous performances.

Three movies… one where the leading man wears makeup, another where the only thing he has to make up is his homework assignment, and a third about a one-time leader of a drug cartel gone trans.

Who could ask for anything more? Maybe you… so more reviews will be coming soon… and, with any luck, the next batch direct from my Island paradise.

 

Barney Rosenzweig

THEN AND… THEN AGAIN

Out in California… awaiting some kind of notice… to evacuate or…

And so, once again, I was up far too late to watch yet another Hollywood classic on TCM. This year’s candidates for Oscar consideration will do that to a guy. Frank Capra’s Meet John Doe came into view. I cannot count the number of times I have seen this film, nor will I reiterate yet again what a fan I am of Mr. Capra’s work.

I am not sure where Meet John Doe ranks in Capra’s pantheon, but I am absolutely, positively secure in the statement that this is one great movie. Gary Cooper is wonderful, and Barbara Stanwyck is perfection. Are there cornball moments? Hey… is this a Capra movie or is this a Capra movie?

If you are not crying at the end of this flick, please do not write me. I don’t even want to know you. Lest it go unsaid, Edward Arnold, Walter Brennan, and James Gleason are also all wonderful in this movie which actually was responsible for laws being changed by the US Congress. Laws that were passed around the time of the film’s release in the early 1940s, only to be rescinded a few years back to the benefit of Rupert Murdoch and his empire. Whatever is left of those early regulations will, I am sure, be bent even more out of shape during the current administration for Messieurs Musk, Bezos and Zuckerberg.

Meet John Doe is not only an outstanding example of Hollywood cinema, but also a model of good citizenship. Over 80 years after its creation, this motion picture remains a powerful and valuable civics lesson. It should be required viewing in classrooms all over the country.

Also seen on TCM was Bachelor Mother, starring Ginger Rogers and David Niven… a precursor to the version with Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher (Bundle of Joy). The former, made in 1939, is cute, and Ms. Rogers is… as she most often was… quite delightful. It is no Meet John Doe, but then director Garson Kanin, while good, is no Frank Capra (face it: far too few can legitimately enter that competition).

I ended the TCM trifecta with Remember The Night, directed by Mitch Leisen, with Barbara Stanwyck and Fred MacMurray as its stars. A credit that should not have had to wait for the second sentence in the paragraph is that Preston Sturges wrote the movie. It was the last of his scripts that he would allow to be directed by anyone other than himself.

Sturges would go on to greatness as one of the best of the best of Hollywood filmmakers; Leisen, the more prolific of the two, would make another half a hundred films… none of them as good as the one based on that singular work of Mr. Sturges.

Remember the Night is a solid movie/movie. Not necessarily a classic but you will wait a long time to see two more likeable or capable stars than Stanwyck and MacMurray.

One more vote for nostalgia brought me to revisit Homeland, the series made for Showtime in 2011 starring Claire Danes as the flawed but fabulous CIA operative, Carrie Mathison. Damian Lewis and Mandy Patinkin head up a terrific ensemble of actors in support of Ms. Danes. The show is now available on Hulu, and I do not think I allowed four days to pass before I had screened the 12 episodes of the first season and one from season two (which is to be continued in this household, I assure you).

I will write about Homeland at least one more time whenever I get around to putting together a column on the ten best Television series ever made. Homeland will be at, or near the top, of that collection of titles.

It has been over ten years since I first saw the show, and it has lost none of its originality or its relevance. It is smart, sexy, and truly wonderful. If you have never seen this series, contact HULU immediately and subscribe. Even if you have seen it in the long ago, it is worth your time for a revisit.

Powerful, wonderful work by the actors, the directors, writers, and producers. Well-deserved applause for all.

Happy as I am that the threat of fires in California has lessened, there is still the waiting around for official notices from the fire department and the ultimate “all-clear.” Under the heading of being grateful for small favors, there are those six plus seasons still to watch of Homeland.

 

Barney Rosenzweig

 

A BEAUTIFUL DAY

 

It is a beautiful day in Southern California… too cold for me, of course, but almost 70 degrees with the sun shining and… on this Sunday afternoon… smack dab between volatile windstorms.

When I was a kid out here in the greater LA area, I remember looking forward to the Santa Ana (so-called) “Devil Winds.” It was so special… the hot wind blowing in from the desert in the middle of January, warming everything up and clearing out the smog from our city and suburban skies as the wind patterns were reversed from the norm, now flowing from land to sea, instead of the usual offshore marine layer coming over the basin to cool everything down.

If you went to the beach during those days of the Santa Anas, the skies were the bluest you could ever remember seeing, but out there on the horizon, there was a black horizontal Crayola-like line that was all the gunk that the winds had taken from our city and deposited at sea.

There was something very sensual and downright sexy about it as well. At least that is what I remember from my teenage years. In fact, I cannot recall anything but welcoming thoughts about those winds… until now.

I am out here in the land of my birth, recovering from a surgical procedure. The repairs to the Fisher Island sea wall and other infrastructure upgrades made the decision to leave my Florida island a little easier… especially when Thanksgiving and Christmas were factored in along with my kids and theirs, who almost all reside in Southern California. What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time.

The alarm to evacuate the small Studio City house where I have been recuperating came unexpectedly. I made the (I thought) very educated choice to reserve a room at a hotel in downtown LA… far from any of the madness of the multiple fire zones plaguing the area. My thought was, with thousands of newly homeless people coming into town from the beaches and the Palisades, the nearby hotels of Beverly Hills would be jammed. Score one for me. There was plenty of room at the inn downtown.

The night in that hotel bed was less comfortable than I had hoped as I began to remember the things I probably should have taken with me. Then came the dawn with the “All Clear” from Studio City… the evacuation of my neighborhood was no longer mandatory.

People had lost their homes… some, their lives. I continued to live under the lucky star that has been there in the heavens my entire life.

Back at the Studio City house I began to watch MSNBC’s Katy Tur. Turns out she was born and raised in California’s Pacific Palisades and now she was back there in that Southern California residential community on assignment in what looked like something we have all become accustomed to seeing in reports from the Gaza Strip. Her interviews with contemporaries who had been living in the community she once occupied… who had children in the schools she once attended… were made even more poignant by the unhappy fact that this community… those schools… were now all rubble that would take years to reconstruct.

There on TV was failed mayoral candidate, Rick Caruso, blaming his former opponent, the current mayor, for failures of preparation for a disaster the likes of which had never been seen in any American city in history. The Palisades fire alone (one of several such blazes in Southern California) covered a larger geographic space than the entire borough of Manhattan in New York. There was the fire in Altadena which was also massive in a community that had never had anything of this magnitude happen in its past. A large fire in Woodland Hills and one in the hills of Hollywood as well.

Caruso reminded me of our recent national elections and of my oft-stated thesis that we get the kind of leadership we get because, if nothing else, Americans are good at watching television and these bombastic blamers and shamers make for good TV.

There is something else we, as a people, are very good at, and that is evading or avoiding paying taxes. As a society, we have all pretty much agreed that if there is a loophole… take it. Face it, few ever say, if there is a loophole, fill it; correct it for the greater good of all.

The current LA mayor, who has been in office less than two years, should not be the target for malfeasance. It is us, and our parents… and their parents… who continually and perpetually squeezed politicians and government coffers so as not to allow for the kind of infrastructure to be constructed that would support the ever increasing/sprawling population of a place such as Southern California.

The damns, the aqueducts, the methods of supplying sufficient water for emergencies such as fires, the burying of power lines underground, the recognition of a thing called Global Warming and doing something about it… all these things cost money, and government gets its money from taxes, which seemingly all its citizens want to lower… or not pay at all. News flash: you cannot have it both ways.

Readers of these missives know I have recently driven across the country… 24 days on the blue lane highways from Miami Beach to Los Angeles. I can report that the worst roads I encountered on that trip were in Southern California. Potholes, cracked sidewalks, and a failing infrastructure are evident throughout LA. It has been a long time since Ronald Reagan made it okay to disregard the true function of government with his too-clever-by-half remark:  

“…the nine most terrifying words in the English language are I’m from the government and I’m here to help.”

Our 40^th President spoke those words, and since that time, nearly every US politician has had to heed the “wisdom” of that mocking comment, or face the consequences at election time.

Something wiser was said a few years before Reagan by a cartoon character named Pogo when he uttered, “…We have met the enemy, and he is us.”

 “…Each country has the government it deserves”, Winston Churchill said. He might well have added… “and is willing to pay for.”

“Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Try having that in the 21^st century without a flushing toilet, or running water, or adequate protection from wind-driven flames. Hell, most of us have discovered we cannot have those basic things without a cellphone.

There is an old show business joke--- the punchline is “…pay the two dollars.” Until we are willing to do just that… to ante up and collectively pay the toll that our modern society requires… the depressing, life-altering, awful consequence that has hit my old hometown in the past few days will be merely the Coming Attractions… events that will be “coming soon” to a community near you.

Barney Rosenzweig

A BOX OF CHOCOLATES

A good-sized book could be written with a title such as Whatever Happened to Bob Zemeckis?

Who?

He is the guy who directed Forrest Gump, Back to the Future and Who Framed Roger Rabbit… all films which anyone could be proud of having made. Gump… all by itself… is enough of a career milestone to establish any director in the pantheon of great American filmmaking.

Bob Zemeckis might well have been crowned his generation’s Frank Capra. Trust me, higher praise than that is rarely dispensed.

Here is the rub: what those films have in common besides director Zemeckis is they were each made in the latter part of the 20^th century. What happened after that gets us back to the reason for the book, Whatever Happened to Bob Zemeckis?

For reasons about which I am not qualified to pontificate, in 2004 with his production of The Polar Express, director Zemeckis walked away from the things that were at the core of his great movies; increasingly focusing on the technological---rather than the human---aspects of storytelling and filmmaking.

There have been 10 Zemeckis films made in the 21^st century, culminating with the currently-in-release HERE. These motion pictures illustrate one of the major left turns ever taken by any artist anywhere at any time. Imagine Van Gogh deciding to give up painting to become a cabinet maker, or Frank Lloyd Wright turning his attention to designing highways instead of buildings.

It is not as if Mr. Zemeckis has had any real amount of success with this new passion of his. Every movie he has made in the last twenty years combined, from Polar Express to HERE… has not had the box office or critical acclaim of the singular Forrest Gump.

I am not going to go on. This deserves a major psychological treatise by someone much more qualified than I. Let me simply close out this unhappy chapter with this review: HERE is a terrible movie, a waste of time for its audience and the artists that participated in its construction. Frankly, it makes me angry that someone with the talent of Bob Zemeckis has somehow descended to this kind of drivel.

A note to anyone out there who decides to do the definitive analysis on the Zemeckis demise; contact me. I do have one small piece of insight that might provide a clue to any biographer.

On the other side of the current movie scene is A Complete Unknown. It is a good movie and well worth your time. Timothee Chalamet is an authentic movie star, and he is totally believable as the young Bob Dylan. Edward Norton is perfect as Pete Seeger. James Mangold directed and co-wrote the screenplay with Jay Cocks based on the book Dylan Goes Electric! by Elijah Wald.

I came late to Dylan’s music and lyrics, but even though a bit old for the folk music scene of the 60s, I remember being impressed by the wit and wisdom of some of the rhymes that were attributed to this young genius. The movie only disappoints in that not all of Dylan’s words and music are heard in the film. Too much to include? I would have settled for the addition of a few bars of Tangled up in Blue.

Hit Man and The Last Showgirl could be teamed as a classic double bill. Two totally different movies that somehow complement each other… yet are just about good enough to stand alone. Hit man is a modest comedy that turns into a sexy romance and thence into a thriller. Not Double Indemnity, but smart enough to be in that company. The Last Showgirl sometimes receives criticism for being “thin” in its storytelling. Let me go with its strengths. A wonderful/gutsy performance by Pamela Anderson and a terrific tour de force by Jamie Lee Curtis. Both, Hit Man and The Last Showgirl, are worthy of your time.

Saturday Night takes its viewers behind the scenes at Rockefeller Center during the 90 minutes before the very first presentation of what would become NBC’s iconic television series, Saturday Night Live. Would you believe the date is October 11, 1975? That’s right, folks. This year, 2025, will be the 50^th anniversary of the show everyone knows about… even without watching.

As you might expect, the movie is loaded with what are now nostalgic references to things, people, and places, and it does manage to capture, with some verisimilitude, the show must go on… but will it?... freneticism of something as groundbreaking as what a then 30-year-old Lorne Michaels was attempting to bring to a national audience on network TV.

Is it as good a film as Network, or as good as any episode of The Newsroom, or Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip? I don’t think so… but how many shows can meet that standard? Will you be entertained while viewing this inside baseball yarn? I would be surprised if you report in as a negative.

The cast is a large one and I will not go through them all but do feel I should single out Nicholas Braun, who does a flawless Andy Kaufman, Cooper Hoffman… who, if memory serves, is spot on to what I remember of junior network executive, Dick Ebersol, and… Wm. Dafoe, who although I didn’t know the menacing, meddling TV exec Dave Tebet he plays, gave me chills by reminding me what those types were (still are?) like.

One of my earliest recollections is sitting in my parent’s living room in front of the radio and listening to a wonderful presentation of The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.

Almost as terrific as that nearly 80-year-old memory is the current rendition of the quintessential story of betrayal and revenge in this three-hour motion picture (yep… count ‘em… a very full 179 minutes). These guys… I do not name them here because I am sure my readers have never heard of them… really know how to make a movie.

This is the way Hollywood used to at least try to make films in the “good old days.” Unfortunately, not so much anymore.

The Count of Monte Cristo has everything you want in an old-fashioned adventure movie… beautiful people saying beautiful and profound things, gorgeous costumes, vile villains, a noble (albeit understandably flawed) hero, sets that are ultra lush, settings that are even better, dynamic music, thrilling action sequences, duels at dawn, fabulous moments of suspense, moral dilemmas. Trust me, it has been a long time since you have seen a movie this fulsome, let alone this well made.

One final moment of applause: Let’s hear it for Alexandre Dumas. I don’t know how many times his 19^th century tale has been depicted… Google says “countless,” but does go on to mention productions in 1934, 1954, 1975, and 2002 (without including dates on more than a dozen others… let alone the modern-day homage known as The Shawshank Redemption).

This is not necessarily Oscar material… but, I have to say, somewhere other than heaven, there should be some major awards for good stories… well told. Until then, warm up that choir of angels for this latest version of The Count of Monte Cristo.

 

Barney Rosenzweig

Confession/Obsession and a Voice

 

Conclave is a lushly produced, nicely directed motion picture about one of the world’s more publicized events, the election of a new Pope. It stars such fine actors as Ralph Fiennes, John Lithgow and Stanley Tucci and does not skimp on sets, costumes, or any other important production value.

All that being accounted for, candor forces me to admit that I fell asleep at least twice… or maybe three times…while the movie droned on. Here is my confession: I am not Catholic and unless you are, do not bet a lot of money that you can keep your eyelids open for the entire two-hour running time of this movie.

Admittedly the story is one with which anyone in the western world can identify, there is conflict aplenty, and there are enough contemporary references to make the movie relevant. That leaves me to guess that you may have to be Catholic (or, alternatively, not recovering from surgery) to really give a damn. But then, maybe it’s just me. Peacock has this motion picture for streaming, or you can purchase through Amazon.

While I believe myself to be very pro LBGTQ (at least as much as this 87-year-old can keep up with the alphabet soup of identity politics) I am also a heterosexual, which might account for some of the lack of empathy while watching Queer, starring Daniel Craig and Drew Starkey. My general disinterest in the film went beyond an inability to identify or empathize. I just thought the movie was more weird than queer and I have trouble imagining what drew any of the principals to this piece of material in the first place. That said, for what it is worth, all the performances are excellent, and the photography is… for the most part… quite lush, as are the Latin American settings of the 1950s. Still, the movie, which will eventually stream on MAX, is not worth your time unless you are one of those who have a yen to experience what it was like to go to an art house flick at midnight in the middle of the last century. If only Queer was shot in black and white it would be a pretty fair imitation of one of those entrees.

Wallace & Gromit have been perennial Oscar winners in their category, but mostly that is when entered only as animated short films. This one (Vengeance Most Fowl) is feature length and it simply does not have the wit nor the wisdom of its shorter predecessors. This one can soon be streamed on Netflix.

Among favorites in the Oscar sweepstakes, is Nicole Kidman in Babygirl.  The actress holds nothing back in this tale of desire, infidelity, and lust. It is hard to imagine Antonio Banderas as a cuckold, but the actor is spot on in his lesser role as husband to Kidman. That leaves the third part of the triangle… an actor, new to me, by the name of Harris Dickinson… who I found less impressive but, in fairness, I feel it only right to qualify my judgment due to the very real possibility of my simply being jealous of his on-screen domination of Ms. Kidman.

This is a very sexy movie and one that is well made, although it wraps up a bit quickly and overly tidy for my taste. It will eventually stream on MAX.

They do not give Oscars for performances in television series… even those streaming on HBO via MAX… but if they did you would be wise not to bet against Colin Farrell in The Penguin. He is simply brilliant in this self-effacing role as… well as… thanks to a major make-up job… being totally unrecognizable. The supporting cast are all uniformly excellent and the cinematography and sets are gorgeous.

Finally, there is Maria, starring Angelina Jolie who is, without a doubt, the front runner and the one to try to overtake in this year’s Oscar sweepstakes. It is as if the actress has been waiting her entire career to play this part of prima donna, Maria Callas, and she does so with total confidence in her own ability and physicality. The picture is beautiful to look at and a joy to hear… although, I am betting one does not have to be an Opera aficionado to appreciate this standout motion picture, which can currently be streamed on Netflix.

One more word for Ms. Jolie as Maria Callas: Brava!

 

Barney Rosenzweig

December Song

It would appear that any recovery from surgery impacts heavily on the aging process. Imagine not one, but two surgeries in less than half a year. My beard is shaggy, but it is not so much that unkemptness that distresses as I look into my bathroom’s mirror.

Four score and seven years ago, Myrtle Rosenzweig brought forth, upon this continent her first son and right now, I am looking every hour of that epoch.

“It all begins to turn to shit at 85” might well be true for most folks, but add a couple of years to that, plus those two hernia operations, and the doctor one might most want to seek out has a PHD after his name rather than the more ubiquitous MD. I mean, c’mon, old folks have egos too.

So far it seems that surgery number two went much better than number one. Of course, it is early yet, and I reserve the right to further recovery and more follow-up exams in four or five weeks.

The Doc says I may drive now, but I am inhibited from doing so by the huge car cover I placed over my car just before my operation10 days ago. Lifting, bending, employing a “core muscle” are all on the not-to-be-done list. Hard to remove a car cover without doing quite a bit on that list of the verboten.

My granddaughter’s holiday open house to show off her new LA apartment beckons. The 11 steps that lead up to the front door give me yet another item on my list of why I don’t like Christmas (as if I needed one).

Friends threaten to drop by for a visit. I discourage them. My kids and grandkids are different. I figure I always looked old to them.

Given the weeks of discomfort and pain prior to surgery number one, then weeks of minimal recovery, followed by my month-long cross-country drive before discovering I needed to go under the knife all over again, we are talking months of non-activity and being totally sedentary. This has led to a disquieting time for my accountant due to the higher than usual volume of queries he receives from my “sick bed” as well as a prolonged period of unemployment for the physical therapist whose mission seven months ago was to get me back onto the grass tennis courts of Fisher Island. Take it from the source, that ain’t happening. Just a return to my Island Paradise is at least a month away.

When not bingeing on the Academy channel for the latest “for your consideration” movies… and, honest, the attendant reviews of those flicks are coming, but as a helper for your holiday list, here are some recommendations: Do see Maria, Babygirl, A Complete Unknown, The Count of Monte Cristo, Saturday Night, and My Old Ass. Do not see: A Real Pain, Wallace & Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl, Queer, or Here.

Besides the movies, I am doing some correspondence, reading the very clever Allow Me to Retort: A Black Guy’s Guide to the Constitution by Elie Mystal, and… for me, the really good news: I am spending at least a couple of hours a day on my latest tome, Life Without Cagney & Lacey. Unlike its author… that never gets old.

 

Barney Rosenzweig