Lots of Little Gems for Big and Small Screens

May 16, 2023

If you haven't seen the new animated Spider-Man, well why not? If you have, there's a lot of smaller flicks to choose from this weekend: an excellent reimagining of a monster, a wonderful look at solitary life on VOD, a throwback to a simpler time that offers modern insights and more. Have a look.

At Gateway Film Center

by Hope Madden

An awful lot of people have reimagined Mary Shelley's Frankenstein in an awful lot of ways. What makes writer/director Bomani J. Story's take, The Angry Black Girl and Her Monster, so effective is that it tackles a lot in very little time and handles all of it heartbreakingly well.

Laya DeLeon Hayes is Vicaria, a gifted student whose heart and brains overtake her wisdom when she decides that death itself is the disease that must be cured, and that she's the one to cure it. It was Dr. Frankenstein's vanity that pushed him to discover the secret to life itself. For Vicaria, the reason is far more tragic, but the result is the same.

To say that Story situates Shelley's tale in the context of drug violence would be to sell his film short. He's moved the story from European castles and laboratories to the projects, where Vicaria's mother fell victim to a drive-by shooting, her brother was shot to death on a drug deal gone wrong, and her father deals with his grief by using. But drugs are just part of the larger problem, the almost escapable, systemic and cyclical nature of violence and poverty.

One of the reasons the Frankenstein monster is so effective so often is that he is tragically monstrous. He is violent through no real fault of his own but as a reaction to an environment that hates him, treats him with cruelty, fear and malice. We simultaneously root for and against this monster.

The trick is to make us root for the creator, and DeLeon Hayes delivers a layered, touching performance that accomplishes this. Vicaria is so young, so hopeful, and so full of fight that we forgive her short sightedness and her immediate (and understandable) fear. Vicaria's missteps are understandable because she's a kid, and her heart's in the right place, which is why she keeps making the worst decisions. It's a powerfully compelling performance.

Story's chosen genre may feel slight, even campy, but the tropes belie some densely packed ideas, and there's a current of empathy running through the film that not only separates this from other Frankenstein tales, but deepens the film's genuine sense of tragedy.

Not every performance is as strong as DeLeon Hayes's, and sometimes Story's dialog is asked to carry too much historical significance. But there's no denying the power he wrung from the source material.

Grade: B+

At Gateway Film Center

by George Wolf

Sir Ben Kingsley as Salvador Dali? That is perfect casting, and an offer that would be hard to resist even if the rest of Daliland was an uninspired bore.

It's not, although it could use a bit more of the legendary surrealist's zest for the unconventional.

Director Mary Harron and writer John Walsh (married since 1998) anchor the film in 1974, when Dali's outlandish antics, eclectic entourage and wild parties ("I need four dwarves and a suit of armor") have caused the art critics to lose interest in him.

But such a lifestyle costs money.

As Dali's longtime wife and muse Gala (Barbara Sukowa) presses his gallery for cash, the curator's young assistant James Linton (Christopher Briney from TV's The Summer I Turned Pretty) is tasked with "spying" on the master. Dali's big show opens in 3 days, and the gallery wants to make sure they will have plenty of new works to unveil.

Using a young neophyte as an audience's window into an icon's world is a fairly standard narrative device, but Harron and Walsh make sure this world is a fascinating one. Kingsley is as delightful as you expect, Sukowa digs deep into the persona of an aging beauty clinging desperately to power and sex appeal, and Briney makes for the perfect wide-eyed fan on a spiral toward disillusion.

Some of Dali's more famous friends (Alice Cooper, Jeff Fenholdt, Amada Lear) are represented, creating a Warhol-esque community of celebrities and hangers-on that seems disinterested in the demands of tomorrow.

But while Harron does well showcasing the excess and activity, Dali's actual artwork is MIA, leaving a few well-placed flashbacks to provide anything close to surreal. As we see the younger Dali (Ezra Miller) pursuing the then-married Gala (Avital Love) and receiving inspiration for what will be his signature style, Kinglsey's Dali watches with us, inviting us into the conversation. These are not only compelling moments, they are the times when the film seems most in step with the legend that drives it.

It may be young James that carries the film's biggest arc, but it is the orbit around planet Dali that changes him. Harron and Walsh seem too content to merely document that world on the way to a larger comment on disposable fame, crass classism, and the simple fear of death.

As the title would suggest, don't come to Daliland for a psychological profile of a legend. Come for a peek inside his carefully curated shelter from the real world, and for the e-ticket ride performance from Kingsley.

Grade: B

In theaters

by George Wolf

Mending the Line certainly has its heart in the right place. It gives us wounded warriors and grieving souls, all finding some peace for battered psyches through the Zen of fly fishing.

There are some beautiful and serene Montana landscapes, and a message of caring respect that's easy to get behind.

It's also smart to get behind it, because anything in front of that message is in the path of some dramatic box-checking with little thought of subtlety.

Marine Sgt. John Colter (Sinqua Walls from the recent White Men Can't Jump remake and next week's The Blackening) is making good progress on recovering physically from a deadly firefight in Afghanistan. "Colt"‘s mental state is more fragile, as he's plagued by memories of losing good men on their final tour before coming home.

Their final tour. And Colt's best friend in the Corps was about to be married. And Colt was to be the Best Man.

Colt wants to get back to the front lines asap, but his V.A. Dr. (Patricia Heaton) isn't sure his head is right, so she sends him to see old Ike Fletcher for fly fishing lessons.

Ike (Bryan Cox) is a battle-scarred Vet himself, and begrudgingly puts Colt through some Mr. Miyagi-approved training while Colt gets to know the locals. There's Lucy (Perry Mattfeld), who’ still mourning the loss of her fiancé, while Harrison (Wes Studi) is the requisite best friend who needles Ike about what an old coot he is before imparting a nugget of wisdom and walking off.

The cast is fine, and director Joshua Caldwell follows up the in-your-face cliche fest of his Infamous with a appropriately gentler hand, but Stephen Camelio's debut screenplay offers more good intention than authentic emotion.

Pivotal changes of heart land suddenly without being earned, while the heavy-handed plot turns walk hand in hand with Bill Brown's paint-by-melodramatic-numbers score.

Veterans care, survivor's guilt and life after trauma are worthy issues, and Mending the Line wants badly to respect those involved and provide enlightenment for the conversation.

The respect is never in doubt, but the conversation ends up treading water.

Grade: C

On Shudder

by Hope Madden

A timely deconstruction of patriotism as convenient excuse for violence – xenophobia, homophobia, you name it – filmmaker Ted Geoghegan's latest genre film costumes a contemporary message in WWII army greens.

Brooklyn 45 spends a single, specific evening with a handful of war buddies. It is Christmas Eve. The war has just ended. Lt. Col. Clive "Hock" Hockstatter (Larry Fessenden) probably shouldn't be alone for Christmas. He's been lost in grief since his wife Suzy took her own life on Thanksgiving, raving about Nazi spies in the building. So, pals Mjr. Archibald Stanton (Jeremy Holm, The Ranger), Mjr. Paul DiFranco (Ezra Buzzington), master interrogator Marla Sheridan (Anne Ramsay) and her husband, Pentagon pencil pusher Bob (Ron E. Rains) head to Hock's Brooklyn apartment to make merry.

What they don't expect is a séance, but to their surprise, that's what they get. It doesn't go well. Lights flicker, candles light themselves, there's ectoplasm, phantasmic voices – and an unsettling knocking in the closet.

Geoghegan's crafted a highly theatrical, even stagey, production. Almost exclusively set on a single space, as the full cast is trapped in Hock's dining room for nearly the film's full 92-minute run time, the movie could easily have taken shape as a stage play. Or, given the spot-on era the filmmaker creates, it could have succeeded as a radio play. The theatricality works, even when the dialog is occasionally overwritten or expected to deliver too much exposition.

The success comes in equal parts from fine performances and Goeghegan's nimble thematic work. By pressing these people – war heroes of the "greatest generation" – hard enough, he not only depicts an all-too-familiar slippery slope to self-justified violence, but chips away at a whitewashed American history.

Ramsay is particularly impressive, her performance layered and authentic despite the movie's theatricality. Kristina Klebe – a surprise guest – is a bit hamstrung with the film's most stilted dialog, but she and Ramsay share an unsettling chemistry that heightens tension.

Goeghegan delivers some jump scares and some gore, but what his film finds scariest is what lies in a beating human heart.

Grade: B

On VOD

by Rachel Willis

Writer/director Hong Sung-eun offers a contemplative portrait of solitude and loneliness in her film, Aloners.

Jina (Gong Seung-yeon) wakes up in the morning, goes to work, comes home, has dinner and goes to bed. This is her life on repeat. She eats at the same restaurant each lunch break. Her interactions with other people revolve around chit-chat with her supervisor on smoke breaks, the occasional exchange with a neighbor, and countless callers in the call center where she works.

Otherwise, Jina's constant companion is a screen. Earbuds in, she walks, rides the bus, eats, and moves through her day connected to a screen. She even sleeps with the TV on.

Several things happen to rattle Jina's solitary existence. She's tasked with training a new employee in hopes of keeping the turnover rate down at her job; her father gets in touch with her regarding a lawyer's visit; and a neighbor in her apartment building dies.

It's Jina's father (Park Jeong-hak) who tries hardest to connect, though her new colleague Sujin (Jeong Da-eun) also attempts to engage her. Rather than take her father's calls, she watches him through a home video camera set up in his living room. When her colleague brings her coffee, she wordlessly accepts.

This is a slow film, but a certain sadness and apathy hangs over Jina. Gong is phenomenal at displaying the anxiety that comes with human interaction, and her expressionless face carries more weight than any dialogue. It's hard to say what, if anything, Jing feels.

And while there isn't much action, the film is never boring. The character study is an affecting examination on how being alone can change a person. Was Jing always like this or has she learned to shut down as a result of her isolation? Can she truly be happy on her own so much of her life?

The film takes place before the pandemic, for a post-pandemic audience Aloners is a slow, striking film that resonates deeply.

Grade: A-

On VOD

by Daniel Baldwin

In 1970, former Air Force pilot Gene Burkard launched a mail-order fashion catalog that would ultimately help revolutionize post-‘60s men's attire: International Male. His goal was to craft and sell clothing to men – queer and straight alike – that moved beyond the drabber business and business-casual attires of post-World War II America. He succeeded.

All Man lays out the history of both Gene Burkard's life and his magazine creation, from its beginnings to its ultimate closure in the late-2000s. Nary a stone is unturned, as the documentary speaks to Burkard, his business partners, designers, models, photographers, sales reps, store managers, office workers, and more than a few subscribers – including those who are now celebrities (such as narrator Matt Bomer).

The magazine's journey runs hand in hand with that of the LGBTQIA+ community's history in America, so the fact that none of these macro issues are overlooked is a major positive. So too are the more personal issues tied to the magazine, such as gay men of all types being able to use the magazine as an outlet for their fantasies and their own personal self-expression through fashion across multiple decades where being out and proud was less culturally acceptable than it is today. This also holds true for straight men, who – through the changes in fashion pioneered within the magazine – were also able to express themselves with more colorful and dynamic clothing than just the suits, slacks, and dress shirts that had a stranglehold on men's styles in post-war America.

Documentarians Bryan Darling and Jesse Finlay Reed have crafted a thoroughly engaging and deeply informative piece of filmmaking that is well worth seeing, regardless of your background in life. All Man focuses on a piece of history that many may not be aware of – very likely, given that the publication's current Wikipedia page is shockingly shorter than this review.

The above title "Masculinity is a spectrum" comes from a statement in the film and it couldn't be more accurate. It IS a spectrum and we all can choose how we want to express ourselves on that spectrum, in part because of the work done by the people behind this magazine.

Grade: A-

Listen to George, Hope and Schlocketeer Daniel Baldwin run through all of this week's reviews plus new movie news on THE SCREENING ROOM PODCAST.