Cindy Prascik's Reviews of Dolemite is My Name &The Two Popes

Yesterday I closed out my movie year with two Netflix originals: Dolemite is My Name and the Two Popes.

Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers.

First up: Dolemite is My Name.

Rudy Ray Moore, a struggling comedian, finds success with a coarse alter-ego.

Dolemite is My Name represents a comeback of sorts for Eddie Murphy, and he carries the movie with ease. I'm a big fan of Eddie Murphy, and that makes me very, very happy. (He can't have that Golden Globe, though. It's Taron's.) As for the film itself, well, that didn't make me quite so happy. Moore is a hard guy to root for. Much like The Room's Tommy Wiseau, he's a person who is determined to succeed at something he isn't very good at, and--through sheer audacity and a bit of enabling--he actually makes it. Personally, I find the Dolemite persona about as funny as a root canal. Maybe my problem is cultural or even generational (I also don't think George Carlin is very funny), but it's exacerbated by the fact that Moore essentially stole the Dolemite schtck from others in his personal orbit, people who never gained (at least as far as the movie shows) from his eventual success. Dolemite's supporting cast is nearly as great as Murphy, with Tituss Burgess, Keegan-Michael Key, and another of my personal favorites, Craig Robinson, all turning in nice performances. Wesley Snipes and Snoop Dogg are also enjoyable in smaller roles. Dolemite is My Name is actually quite funny in places (outside the Dolemite routines), though it's also a little slow or a little long or maybe a little of both; it just doesn't *quite* earn its runtime. It is also relentlessly (but expectedly) vulgar, so if boobs and f-bombs bother you, maybe take a pass on this one.

Dolemite is My Name runs 117 minutes and is rated R for "pervasive language, crude sexual content, and graphic nudity."

Dolemite is My Name is a win for Eddie Murphy and a big loss for everything else. Of a possible nine Weasleys, Dolemite is My Name gets four.

Next on my agenda: The Two Popes.

Popes Benedict and Francis try to find common ground for the good of the Catholic Church.

Well, dear reader(s), if Dolemite is My Name is a film I didn't quite get, you may rest assured that, having spent the past 33 years working for His Holiness, this one's definitely in my wheelhouse.

Most everyone knows that the Catholic Church is facing challenging times, and that its problems are largely of its own making. This behind-the-scenes look at two very different men, both of whom want only the best for the institution (and the deity) they serve, is a thoughtful exercise. Jonathan Pryce and Anthony Hopkins turn in two of the year's finest performances as Pope Francis and Pope Benedict XVI, respectively. Their magnificent work is infused with quiet power, carrying the deliberately-paced film effortlessly. While the Two Popes is undoubtedly more "inspired by" than "based on" actual events, its insights and political machinations are fascinating, as well as its sometimes shockingly frank mentions of the clergy sexual abuse scandal. The movie also offers some timely messages, both overtly and less so, with the importance of forgiveness and of finding common ground winding their way throughout. Though I am not a believer myself, I found the Two Popes an uplifting and hopeful film for the faithful...and maybe for the rest of us too.

The Two Popes clocks in at 125 minutes and is rated PG13 for "thematic content and some disturbing, violent images."

The Two Popes is one of the year's best surprises, a terrific film carried by two extraordinary performances.

Of a possible nine Weasleys, the Two Popes gets eight.

Until next time...

Cindy Prascik's Reviews of Star Wars: Episode IX - The Rise of Skywalker & Jumanji: The Next Level

Yesterday I trekked to the cinema to shake off the after-Christmas blues with Star Wars: Episode IX and Jumanji: The Next Level.

Spoiler level here will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers.

First on my Boxing Day agenda: Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker.

The final chapter of the Skywalker saga sees the Resistance facing off with a mysteriously-resurrected Emperor Palpatine.

Star Wars is one of those franchises that has such a devout and legendarily bitchy fanbase that there's nothing any review can really say that will be taken at face value. If you love it, you're too devoted to see its flaws; if you hate it, you're just a bitter fanboy. For whatever it's worth, I'm here to say that Rise of Skywalker is probably a lousy movie, but I mostly loved it anyway.

Episode IX definitely occupies more minutes than it earns, with some bloated battle/chase scenes that could and should have been trimmed significantly. The bulk of the movie is simple fan service, giving that devout fan base what the filmmakers thought it would want to see in the finale for at least this most-beloved branch of the Star Wars universe. Artistically, that never does a project any favors, but as a casual SW fan who has been in love with Luke Skywalker since I was ten, I very much enjoyed it. Highlights continue to be John Boyega and Oscar Isaac as Finn and Poe, while neither Daisy Ridley nor Adam Driver does much for me. (Yes, I know the whole wide galaxy thinks Driver's the best thing since sliced bread. I don't.) Some effects are terrific, while others are inexplicably dodgy. A good deal of it looks like a weird production of Jesus Christ Superstar. Pretty much every plot device and line of dialogue is more hokey than the one that came before it. I mean, you can only wring so many tears out of previously-unused Carrie Fisher footage, am I right? A real positive here is the organically diverse cast, no big deal, just characters of all races and species living and working together like it's as common as it should be. If some of Episode IX truly represents the best that Star Wars has to offer, it's re-hashed enough by this point to have lost much of its impact.
Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker clocks in at a mammoth 142 minutes and is rated PG13 for "sci-fi violence and action."

The Rise of Skywalker is an imperfect but enjoyable finale to a very-much-loved saga.

Of a possible nine Weasleys, Star Wars: Episode IX — The Rise of Skywalker gets seven, including one bonus Weasley for having an actual Weasley, Domhnall Gleeson, in the cast.

Next on yesterday's docket: Jumanji: The Next Level.

The gang is drawn back into the world's most dangerous game for another adventure.

Jumanji is an unlikely success story, a project that had every reason to be painfully bad, but somehow ended up surprisingly good. First and foremost, that is down to an absolute home-run with the casting, not just the notably terrific adult leads--Dwayne Johnson, Kevin Hart, Jack Black, and Karen Gillan--but also their younger/real world selves: Alex Wolff, Ser'Darius Blain, Ashley Scott, and Morgan Turner. As with the first Jumanji, the kids are so good it's almost a disappointment when they morph into their more famous video-game selves. Almost. Johnson, Hart, Black, and Gillan are so great I kinda want them and only them to be in all the movies all the time now, please and thank you. Throw in bonus Danny DeVito and Danny Glover, and you've got yourself one top-notch cast. The Next Level is as laugh-out-loud hilarious as its predecessor, in both broad and more clever ways, with a fresh story that never feels like a sequel for the sake of it. The action-packed plot moves along quickly and doesn't overstay its welcome, wrapped up with a nice Christmas setting, making it the perfect holiday family fare. For whatever it's worth, this movie got the best crowd reaction of any movie I saw this year, and that's a month into its release.

Jumanji: The Next Level runs 123 minutes and is rated PG13 for "adventure action, suggestive content, and some language."

Jumanji: The Next Level is that rarest of sequels that may even best its predecessor.

Of a possible nine Weasleys, Jumanji: The Next Level gets eight.

Until next time...

Cindy Prascik's Reviews of Dark Waters & Cats

The weekend before Christmas provided an opportunity to catch up with my sorely neglected cinema. First priorities: Dark Waters and Cats.

Spoiler level for Dark Waters will be mild, nothing you wouldn't know from the trailers or the news. I don't think there are proper spoilers for a film like Cats--it's not exactly rife with plot twists--but I'm going to talk about it in excruciating detail. If you really don't want to know anything before you see it, or if you really don't want to read 1500 words on one of the year's worst movies, please proceed accordingly.

First on my weekend docket: Dark Waters, a based-on-actual-events tale of the attorney who took on chemical giant DuPont over poisoned water in Parkersburg, West Virginia.

Dark Waters is a compelling story told in pedestrian fashion, a disappointment considering the names involved. It's weirdly edited in places, with some shots lingering overlong while others cut off so abruptly it seems like somebody forgot to come back and finish it. The movie wears its agenda on its sleeve, with broadly-drawn good guys and bad guys, chugging along at a deliberate pace that makes it seem longer than it is. Some good tension builds towards the end, as the case comes to a head, but it's pretty late in the game. The big-name cast includes Mark Ruffalo in a fine but unremarkable turn as Robert Bilott, David to DuPont's Goliath. Anne Hathaway and Tim Robbins are up and down as Bilott's wife and boss/mentor, respectively. Bill Pullman turns in the only performance I really enjoyed, and his screen time is, sadly, rather limited. West Virginia doesn't necessarily get the worst cinematic treatment it's ever had, though certainly Dark Waters doesn't have an opportunity to show our state at its best, even if it effectively portrays the resilience of our people. (Some would say "bull-headedness," but we'll stick with "resilience" here.) Dark Waters is a movie worth seeing, but maybe more worth seeing on Netflix or as a rental, rather than with the full cinema pricetag.

Dark Waters runs 126 minutes and is rated PG13 for "thematic content, some disturbing images, and strong language."

Dark Waters is a serviceable telling of a great story, one that's all the sadder as West Virginia continues to sell itself to the highest bidder with little regard for its own well-being. 

Of a possible nine Weasleys, Dark Waters gets seven.

Next up: the big-screen adaptation of Andrew Lloyd Webber's much loved musical, Cats. Buckle up, kids. We're gonna TALK about this one.

On the night of the Jellicle Ball, the Jellicle Leader chooses one Jellicle cat to elevate to a new Jellicle life.

Think that synopsis makes no sense? You aren't alone. Many would say (and have said) Cats makes no sense, there's no story. The plot is a thin one, more a series of vignettes, with each cat making his or her case to win the Jellicle Leader's favor.

Now, the disclaimer: I love Cats. It's one of my top three musicals of all time, and my favorite Andrew Lloyd Webber property. When I see the current national tour of Cats in February, it will mark my 30th visit to the junkyard. Certainly some productions are better than others (the 1993 national tour that featured now-Tony-winning choreographer Christopher Gattelli as Mr. Mistoffelees and Mad Men's Bryan Batt as Munkustrap is a favorite), but I've yet to crawl away disappointed...until this movie. Herein we shall discuss where the film goes wrong, and those few things it actually gets right.

We'll start with some of the big misses: Despite its best-known number being a proper belter, Cats is a dance-oriented show, yet this film has eliminated the most impressive dance sequences: Mr. Mistoffelees' solo, Jennyanydots' tap number (represented, but not properly), and the Invitation to the Jellicle Ball. Each of those pieces is included, but the best dance bits have been cut or bastardized by an over-abundance of CGI. (Anybody else weirded out by those perpetually-erect tails??) The stage production has always gone to great lengths to get makeup, costumes, and feline movement spot-on, but here not a care was taken...in fact, these things are so bad as to appear willfully wrong. Most costumes stop at the ankles, leaving obviously human bare feet on display, though some Jellicles (in their sensible, everyday forms) wear high-top sneakers, boots, overalls, and even a top hat. Human garb in the stage production is a storytelling tool, and generally is crafted to fit with the cat's pattern, such as Misto's vest and bowtie and Grizabella's dress and coat. The film's makeup leaves its very famous faces very recognizable and looking like A-list actors in dollar-store Halloween costumes. It's distracting. Finally, for a barely-there plot that requires no explanation, this movie does an awkward amount of explaining.

By the numbers, Act I:

This movie *almost* gets the Overture right, as there's only a brief frame before its first notes twinkle through the darkened theater. No choreographed Christmas lights, though. Shame. Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats fares better than most numbers, though it suffers some unfortunate edits, ditto the Naming of Cats, where they left in the line about cats having three different names, then edited out the stanza about the second name. Hope no one's counting! Robbie Fairchild does a fine job with my second-favorite Jellicle, Munkustrap. Munkustrap is the busiest cat in the junkyard, serving as a sort-of narrator and appearing in nearly every number, so it's important that he's good. This one is good. Rebel Wilson's crass performance as Jennyanydots, the Old Gumbie Cat, renders one of the show's cutest numbers a vulgar exercise. Jason Derulo lacks the chutzpah that makes Rum Tum Tugger so much fun when he's done right, but he's a good singer and has some presence. James Corden as Bustopher Jones is one of the movie's better-cast roles, though the number's adapted rather stupidly. Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer are deprived of their perk, and neither Danny Collins nor Naoimh Morgan brings any real charm to these audacious felines. Also...there's no tumbling, dammit! Dame Judy Dench is okay as Old Deuteronomy, though I miss the traditionally-male Jellicle Leader's big, booming voice. The new number written by Sir Andrew with Taylor Swift specifically for this film is a dud. It's performed by our Victoria, Francesca Hayward, also something of a dud. Victoria is a featured dancer in the show, so it's baffling that filmmakers chose an accomplished ballerina for the role, then assigned her a bunch of singing and smothered her beautiful dancing in CGI. The Jellicle Ball is a bizarre Furry orgy that again buries its choreography in badly-done effects. Ye gods.

Onward to Act II:

Ian McKellen is of Cats' biggest victories as Gus, the Theater Cat. He doesn't have as much to do as you'd like Sir Ian McKellen to do if you were lucky enough to get him for your movie, but he's quite a good fit. Steven McRae is a pretty solid Skimbleshanks, too, though the number itself is disappointing compared to its live cousin. (Skimble is my third-favorite Jellicle; it's important to get Skimble right.) Macavity...uh...where do I even start? Idris Elba, inarguably (for my money) the sexiest man alive, is utterly ridiculous in a role that is, by default, nefariously sexy. First, he does too much talking. There is no talking in Cats. There is only singing and dancing. Secondly, you can see too much Idris Elba (aren't those weird words to put together?) to think he's anything but Idris Elba in a goofy fur suit. That's down to makeup AGAIN. Finally, his Bombalurina is Taylor Swift, an admirable artist for many reasons, but entirely miscast as this very sexy, very mature Jellicle. Macavity is one of the show's best numbers, and one of the film's worst. How very disappointing. Next up is my favorite Jellicle, Mr. Mistoffelees. (It is MOST important to get Mr. Mistoffelees right.) Laurie Davidson is, in fact, quite a good Mr. Mistoffelees. I mean, he's no Jacob Brent, but he's definitely the best part of the movie, despite the filmmakers cutting his big solo. Following Misto's abbreviated number, our Grizabella turns up for the showstopper, Memory, or, as Jennifer Hudson sings it, "Mamwee." Jennifer Hudson has a great voice--that is an indisputable fact--but it's outweighed by her perpetually-running nose, vacant stare, and sloppy diction. This Grizabella ascends to the Heaviside Layer not in an old tire, but rather in a chandelier (perhaps a nod to ALW's other dumpster-fire film adaptation, the Phantom of the Opera?).  The finale, the Ad-Dressing of Cats, feels like an anti-climax minus an Old Deuteronomy with a commanding baritone, but the fact that it's not a complete disaster feels like a win.

A few missing pieces: Growltiger makes a surprise appearance, but his featured number is predictably absent from the film, as it has been from most of the recent Cats productions I've seen (I assume due to its racial insensitivity). There are no Pekes or Pollicles, also frequently axed from the stage production. As mentioned, while the film visits a junkyard, the junkyard isn't its primary home, an artistic choice that won't have much bearing on your enjoyment of the movie unless you really love that junkyard. (I do.) At least they got the "Vivat!" right, I guess.

Here's something I learned about Cats when it was revived on Broadway a couple years back: While shows like Hedwig and Hair really seem to find their audiences in revival--remaining relevant even while painted by the times in which they're set--Cats is not so fortunate. Debuting in London in 1981 and on Broadway in 1982, the nearly-plotless two hours of dancing felines seemed a good fit for the Ferris Bueller and Duran Duran set, even a game-changer for the time. In 2017, alongside Hamilton, Indecent, and even Come From Away, Cats just seemed irrelevant. I still shelled out for a front-row seat on my annual trip to the Big Apple, and I still loved it, but it was definitely a show out of its time. Had this movie been a straightforward adaptation of the stage production (I'd hoped for some improvement on the direct-to-DVD 1998 attempt), it still would be too late for this show to set the world on fire, but a quality big-screen version would have found its audience among the show's fans, of which there still are many. Instead, it's been turned into a punchline, a bad-movie benchmark for the foreseeable future, and here's the thing about that: In "serious" theater circles, Cats is already a punchline. Low-brow theater, tourist fare. It's also a very specific, unique thing that can't be made into something it's not. You can love or hate it for what it is, but you can't effectively change what it is. In attempting to do just that, Tom Hooper and company have made Cats a punchline for what it *isn't,* and that just breaks my heart. If In the Heights weren't already in the can and looking so promising, I'd worry Cats was bad enough to scare Hollywood off the movie musical for some time.

Cats clocks in at 110 minutes and is rated PG for "some rude and suggestive humor."

The 2019 film version of Cats is a travesty, crafted by people who either failed to understand this terrific show on a fundamental level or simply didn't care. Of a possible nine Weasleys, Cats gets three (one for each of my favorite Jellicles).

The current national tour of Cats is in Toronto through January 5th, moving to Boston and Baltimore immediately following. For my locals, the show rolls into Pittsburgh's beautiful Benedum Center from February 25th through March 1st. For a full list of dates and tickets, please check out the link below. Please do not let this abomination of a film deter you from seeing this legendary show in person.

https://ustour.catsthemusical.com/tickets/

Now...who's up for a Starlight Express revival??

Until next time...

MOVIE REVIEW: DOLEMITE IS MY NAME

Performer Rudy Ray Moore develops an outrageous character named Dolemite, who becomes an underground sensation and star of a kung-fu, anti-establisment film that could make or break Moore.

Director: Craig Brewer

Cast: Eddie Murphy, Da'Vine Joy Randolph, Keegan-Michael Key, Mike Epps, Craig Robinson, Tituss Burgess, Wesley Snipes

Release Date: October 25, 2019 

Genre  Biography, Comedy, Drama

Rating: R for some sexuality, full nudity and brief language

Runtime: 1 h 58 min

Review:
Craig Brewer’s Dolemite Is My Name is a fun film that could have been easily forgettable if it weren’t for his central star.  Sure, the true story of Rudy Ray Moore is a fascinating anecdote from Hollywood’s past but without Eddie Murphy’s un-containable energy and charisma it wouldn’t be nearly as watchable.  Murphy’s performance is like a throwback to his classic performances not like his slew of rinse and repeat family comedies he churned out for the better part of late 90's and 2000’s.  The film reminds you why Murphy was such a singular star in those classic films like Coming to America, Trading Spaces and even Bowfinger to a certain extent.  He’s such a magnetic performer that you can’t help but enjoy this bawdy biopic.  The story itself feels familiar but Murphy keeps you interested in this underdog tale.  His supporting cast is made up a who’s who of African American actors and comedians with each making the film better than it deserves to be with Da'Vine Joy Randolph & Wesley Snipes leaving lasting impressions.  Ultimately Dolemite Is My Name is the type of film that’s better than it deserves to be because of inspired casting.


B+

MOVIE REVIEW: CATS

A tribe of cats must decide yearly which one will ascend to the Heaviside Layer and come back to a new life.

Director: Tom Hooper

Cast: James Corden, Judi Dench, Jason Derulo, Idris Elba, Jennifer Hudson, Ian McKellen, Taylor Swift, Rebel Wilson, Francesca Hayward

Release Date: December 20, 2019

Comedy, Comedy, Drama, Family

Rated PG for some rude and suggestive humor

Runtime: 1 h 50 min

Review:

My knowledge of the Cat's stage play is fairly limited.  I've never gotten around to finding out why it was such a cultural phenomenon but have heard the song Memories in passing.  So I walked into the screen adaptation of the musical mostly blank.  Tom Hooper's film is veritable cornucopia of strangeness and WTF moments that it's hard to take your eyes off it.  The much talked about digital fur is instantly distracting and the effect never really seems to wear off for the duration.  It doesn't help that some characters wear clothes and shoes while other don't for no discernible reason, ultimately your left wondering who decides.  Its not the only question that will pop up in your head mainly because the plot mostly consist of introductions with a very general end game which is actually pretty dark once you start to think about it.  Still there are some positives to be appreciated here such as newcomer Francesca Hayward debut.  Hayward's re purposed Victoria is the audience's avenue into this strange world filled with tiny child mice and dancing human cockroaches.  Mind you the film takes very little time to ease the audience into any of this so you jump into the deep end pretty quickly.  Thankfully Francesca's performance is endearing enough to keep you on board if you didn't immediately jump off board.  Her ballerina skills are on full display through the seemingly endless song and dance sequences.  The bigger names all have varying levels of success with their characters as they go full feline.  Ian McKellen and Judi Dench bring and air of respectability to the whole thing with each having a moment to shine in the latter portions of the film.  Meanwhile James Corden and Rebel Wilson play into the whole silliness of the whole thing, it work sometimes but when it misses it misses badly.  Jason Derulo seems to be doing his own thing, particularly during his main song early on.  Idris Elba is all in from the start but he's never given enough screen time to really leave a proper impression outside of leaving you feel confused.  Taylor Swift's cabaret inspired sequence is lively once you get past her dollar story British accent.  Jennifer Hudson is given the film's singular song and you'd be hard pressed to deny her talent even though she can't seem to decide what volume to sing said song at during various attempts.  If this all sounds like a strange hodgepodge of ideas and talents well it is.  At certain points during the film I wasn't sure if I was actually watching some terribly campy 70's grindhouse musical or an unused portions of legendary Marlon Brando 1996 dumpster fire The Island of Dr. Moreau.  At the same time you sort appreciate the audacity of the whole thing like going full bore into the feline mannerisms, so much neck cuddling and nose kisses, while dealing a story is mainly about cats vying for the opportunity to die and move on to it's next life.  

C

MOVIE REVIEW: STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

The surviving Resistance faces the First Order once more as Rey, Finn and Poe Dameron's journey continues. With the power and knowledge of generations behind them, the final battle commences.

Director: J.J. Abrams

Cast: Carrie Fisher, Mark Hamill, Adam Driver, Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Oscar Isaac, Ian McDiarmid, Billy Dee Williams

Release Date: December 13, 2019

Genres: Action, Adventure, Fantasy

Rated PG-13 for sci-fi violence and action

Runtime: 2h 21min

Review:

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker has a hefty checklist of things it needs to accomplish while closing out the Star Wars franchise at least the Skywalker saga.  For some reason, J.J. Abrams decides to do it in the most perfunctory way possible.  Massive reveals, which come out of left field with regularity, occur throughout but none of it is particularly engaging.   It would have been nice if there was some sort of mystery or intrigue but Abrams and the screenwriters seem strangely disinterested creating any sort of tension at any point during the proceedings.  As such, we move from set piece after set piece where we get some well choreographed Star Wars action, rinse and repeat for 2 and half hours.  Sadly, after this happens a few times you really just don’t care anymore.  The dialogue shuffles between believable to outright corny leaving the characters feeling more artificial than organic.  The cast does what it can with the characters delivering infrequent moments of life.  Daisy Ridley who seems continuously sweaty leads the film as best she can.  Her character has always been a bit of cipher mainly because she never feels like anything more than rehash of Luke’s story line, something compounded by story choices here.  Ultimately she’s nothing more than a Luke clone in Capri pants and space Uggs.  Adam Driver’s Kylo Ren is even more uninteresting this go around.  The insistence on having his angry emo boy be the primary menace in this trilogy has always left me confused.  There’s never been much intrigue in his character much less any sort of palpable sense menace or real threat.  John Boyega and Oscar Isaac do what they can with their screen time but suffer from poor writing that never let them develop memorable characters.  You can sense Isaac trying bring a spark of life to Poe in this film but it’s never maintained for a sustained amount of time.  As such, we watch everyone go through the motions and move the plot from one spot to another with a sense of inevitability as opposed to wonder. Sure it’s great to see the late Carrie Fisher on screen one last time but even her scenes aren’t nearly as moving as they should be, possibly because you can feels Abrams building story around these bits of old footage for the sake of inclusion.  All this should have been moving but it never hits with the emotional impact much like this final entry overall. 

C-