Bob's Cinema Diary: 'Unidentified' and 'The Currents'

Two new movies deal with women struggling on their own -- albeit with very different issues. The Saudi movie Unidentified focuses on Noelle, a woman who lost a child shortly after its birth, a tragedy that colors everything that follows. Made in Argentina, The Currents takes us into a middle-class milieu where a fashion designer's life seems to be coming apart at the seams. Both movies are deliberately paced, but each illuminates the life of a woman trying to cope (or not) with very different social circumstances.

Unidentified

In Unidentified, Saudi director Haifaa al-Mansour (Wadjda) follows a newly divorced woman (Mila Al-Zahrani) as she searches for the killer of a young woman who, early in the movie, turns up dead. A fan of crime podcasts, Al-Zahrani's Noelle feels wronged by her ex-husband, who -- after the loss of their child shortly after its birth -- declared his intention to take a second wife. Presenting herself as a seeker of justice, Noelle drives and owns a car, a bit of business we take for granted but couldn't have been part of a Saudi movie before 2018, the year Saudi women were first allowed to obtain driver's licenses. Defying the men who run the police station, Noelle begins to function like a detective. Her search eventually brings her into contact with the victim's mother (Fatima Alsharif), a well-heeled woman who's unwilling to identify her daughter's body lest her family be humiliated. The young woman might have been on her way to a meet a man, a taboo in this patriarchal setting. The movie plods here and there, but as a peek into the way Saudi society deals with gender, Unidentified proves eye-opening. Don't be misled, though. Al-Mansour doesn't preach; her film qualifies as a low-key thriller that includes the kind of bracing twists, you probably won't see coming.

The Currents

Alienation isn't easy to film, but director Milagros Mumenthaler brings a high-level of artistry to the task in The Currents, a movie about a fashion designer (Isabel Aime Gonzalez-Sola) who -- early on -- attempts to commit suicide in Switzerland, where she's traveled to receive an award. A wife and mother, Gonzalez-Sola's Lina returns to Argentina but can't seem to re-connect with her husband (Esteban Bigliardi) and her five-year-old daughter (Emma Fayo Duarte). Lina, who never seems present in her life, becomes the elusive centerpiece of a movie that relies heavily on Gonzalez-Sola's ability to convey the ambiguity of Lina's detachment. The Currents might have been titled Woman on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown, and Mumenthaler's sly splashes of color reminded me of Pedro Almodovar's work. So what's up with Lina? We don't really know, and Mumenthaler keeps it that way, avoiding a single explanation for the way in which Lina floats through her life. There's much to be gleaned from The Currents, which slowly discloses bits of backstory, including a late-picture introduction to Lina's eccentric mother. But don't expect a big reveal. Some will find Mumenthaler's slowly paced movie trying, but a character who may not fully understand her inner life is made intriguing by a director whose imagery can reflect the deep and mysterious richness of lived moments. 

Rock stardom on a shaky foundation

  Irish director John Carney has created a filmography rooted in his love for music. Carney's first hit, Once, reached screens in 2007 with a story about two unlikely partners who made music together. Carney, who followed with other films that fit his mold, now delivers Power Ballad, which feels familiar but dips its toe into the world of rock stardom.

   Paul Rudd plays Rick Powers, a once rising rock star who settled in Ireland, married Rachel (Marcella Plunkett), and raised a daughter (Beth Fallon) who's now a teenager. 

    As his dreams of stardom faded, Rick supported himself as a singer and guitarist with Bride and Groove, a band that specializes in wedding parties. Bride and Grove works from a popular hit list, doing energetic covers of songs meant to keep a dance floor hopping.

     On one such gig, Rick meets Danny Wilson (Nick Jonas), a young singer who made it big with a boy band and who's trying to launch a solo career. Danny  happens to be a guest at the wedding, and Rick and Danny spend a post-party evening jamming and talking about writing songs. Rick shares one of his songs, How to Write a Song Without You.

     The movie then leaps ahead. Danny has returned to the US, where his agent (Jack Reynor) informs him that only a breakthrough tune will establish his independence and maintain the standard of living he achieved as a boy-band phenom.

     Danny writes a bridge to How to Write a Song and steals the rest. Before you can say, "Of course it's a major hit," the song becomes a major hit, and Danny regains his stardom.

     When Rick discovers that his tune has become popular, he tumbles into a mixture of depression, self-loathing, and, yes, satisfaction -- at last, one of his tunes has connected with a large audience.

    Power Ballad expands on Rudd's affable persona, allowing Rudd to turn Rick into a manic guy who's obsessed with getting his due. Rick even enlists a bandmate (Paul Reid) to travel to the US to confront Danny. Mostly, Rick wants Danny to confirm that he stole  the song. Rick has no proof of authorship, and no one believes his claim.

    Too formula-averse to turn Rick into an unalloyed hero, Carney also refuses to turn the undeniably talented Danny into a pop-star jerk. Self-doubt undermines Rick's quest for recognition, and Danny wrestles with his conscience. Should he explain what happened and get on with it? His manager dissuades him.

     The long-awaited face-off between Rick and Danny takes place in a hot tub at one of Danny's LA parties, an over-the-top crescendo that feels silly and strained.

      Of course, there's plenty of music and a near-overexposure of the film's signature tune. Carney's at his best when the film operates in the minor key of the wedding band, a group that, aside from Rick, has accepted its role as a party band.   

      Carney also makes sure to acknowledge his respect for  people who make music regardless of their circumstances. A street musician, seen a couple of times, underscores the idea that music belongs to everyone.       

       Building toward a crowd-pleasing coda, Power Ballad qualifies as an anomaly, an upbeat drama about the downside of dreams, as well as an ode to the power of song. Rudd does his own singing, and Jonas, a member of the Jonas Brothers, a pop-rock band that split up in 2013 and reunited six years later, knows this turf.

       Whatever the movie's weaknesses, one thing remains clear: Carney still fuels his work with an infectious love for music and the people who make it. 

'Tuner': A caper movie with heart

    In Tuner, Leo Woodall plays Niki, a piano tuner who suffers from hyperacusis, a disorder that can turn everyday noises into deafening roars. Woodall's character works with Harry Horowitz (Dustin Hoffman), the owner of a tuning business who reminisces about the jazz greats that inspired his love of music. 

    Director Daniel Roher (Navalny and The AI Doc) captures the ease with which Woodall and Hoffman relate -- Hoffman not shying away from Harry's encroaching dementia, and Woodall displaying affection for and patience with Harry.

   Once a gifted pianist, Niki's hearing disorder disrupted his budding career. Harry knows that Niki can play and constantly begs him for a sample of his work. Apparently content with his current life, Niki treats Harry and his wife (Tovah Feldshuh) as family. 

     The movie's plot hinges on a discovery: When he removes the ear plugs that keep his disorder under control, Niki's hearing is so keen that he can crack safes by listening for the clicks that reveal the combination. He demonstrates the skill while trying to open the home safe in which Harry, who has forgotten the combination, keeps his hearing aids.

     The caper elements begin when, Niki, on a tuning job at an upscale home, meets Uri (Lior Raz), a charismatic but shady figure. Uri runs a security business but steals from his clients. He says he concentrates on small, valuable items the very wealthy won't miss. He wants Niki to crack safes for him. 

     By this time, Harry has been hospitalized, medical bills are mounting, and Niki needs a major infusion of cash to help. Reluctantly, he begins working for Uri.

     Then, there's romance. While on another tuning job, Niki meets Ruthie (Havanah Rose Liu), an aspiring composer who gradually appreciates and falls for Niki. Ruthie hopes to earn an apprenticeship with a famous composer (Jean Reno), and it's easy to see why she falls for Niki, a sensitive young man who seems to have been blessed with good-guy genes.

      Niki's disorder and the movie's interest in music offer opportunities for creative sound design with Roher and his team effectively conveying the impact Niki's disorder has on him.

      We know that Niki's criminal pursuits will eventually clash with his basic decency and with Ruthie's belief in him. When that happens, the  movie moves into rougher, more wobbly territory, and Roher, who wrote the movie's screenplay with Robert Ramsey, winds up with too many loose ends to tie up before the story concludes.

     Tuner can't quite go the distance as an engaging caper movie. But the movie is warmed by a cast -- most notably Woodall -- that makes for a winning combination of talent, story, and heart.

‘Backrooms’ isn't about making sense

   Backrooms, an addition to the growing list of self-consciously inventive horror movies, arrives with a pedigree that may impress aficionados. Produced by horror masters James Wan and Osgood Perkins, the movie also features performances by actors with hefty resumes: Chiwetel Ejiofor and Renate Reinsve. 

  A bit about the movie's background: It springs from a movement called "creepypasta,'' i.e., horror stories posted and shared on the internet. Director Kane Parsons, now 20, began uploading Backrooms episodes in 2022, expanding  a previous "creepypasta" concept into 22 short films.

   I learned this from Googling and had no exposure to Backrooms before I saw Parsons' movie. I say this because Parsons' movie may have more appeal to those familiar with his online work than I am.

  On one hand, Backrooms can be seen as a creative immersion in a liminal world composed of endless rooms. Liminal worlds, by the way, are currently big in horror, bland, sometimes transitional locations that resonate with eerie emptiness.

   Set during the 1990s, Backrooms slips easily into its  off-kilter tale, partly because of the aural atmosphere the film creates, a mixture of unintelligible voices and synth music by Edo Van Breemen and Parsons.

    The movie has a story of sorts, which Parsons shows us is being watched by ill-defined researchers,  a conceit that adds more cause for apprehension. 

   Ejiofor plays Clark, a furniture store owner whose life is headed in the wrong direction. His wife recently left him, and Clark has been unable to launch his desired career as an architect.

    To get on the right track, Clark visits Mary (Reinsve), a therapist he hopes will open new doors for him. She's written a book conveniently titled The Window Within. 

    Displaced from his home, Clark has been relegated to sleeping in his store. He also appears as a peg-legged pirate in awful commercials made by one of his employees (Finn Bennett). We never see any customers in Cap'n Clark's Ottoman Empire, one more ploy that augments the sense of vacancy that permeates Backrooms -- absence that's meant to be felt.

    When Clark discovers a portal in the store's basement, he enters a weird alternate reality. Upon returning to "normal," he shares his discovery  with his therapist, who probably thinks he's delusional.

     To convince a skeptical Mary that his experience was "real," Clark convinces Bennett's Bobby and another employee (Lukita Maxwell) to pass through the portal with him. Clark wants Bobby to film their trippy experience so that he can prove the existence of the rooms that both frighten and attract him.

      It doesn't take long for Mary to visit the store, find the portal, and enter the weird dimension in which Clark has lost himself.

     Working from a screenplay by Will Soodik, Parsons includes flashbacks to Mary's childhood with a paranoid mother. Her childhood home was demolished by developers leaving only a shard, a handprint she saved from the rubble of a concrete driveway. It will come in handy.

    Parsons offers a variety of surreal sights: piles of discarded furniture, a stop sign with the word "stop" spelled backwards, and glimpses of figures who make us suspect that the place is occupied and dangerous.

     Parsons excels at alternate-reality building: rooms full of wall-to-wall carpeting and yellow walls, and, eventually, figures with distorted features. Are we seeing funhouse reflections of the reality of Clark and Mary's lives? Maybe.

      Not surprisingly, we're primed for the big reveal that will make sense of everything we've been watching. The movie, which functions as an inventive tease, has little interest in tidying up after itself, offering only the notion that we trap ourselves in behaviors we keep repeating, no matter how many times they lead us nowhere.

       Neither Ejiofor nor Reinsve has much to develop. Mostly, they react to the movie's increasingly alienating atmospherics. Mark Duplass turns up in a role that seems as if it's going to provide the explanation we've been waiting for, but his character doesn't seem to know much about what's happening,  either. 

        Blood and gore are in short supply, and some of the movie's twisted jokes, expressionless human figures whose insides can be scooped out and eaten, feel as if they've popped out of nowhere.

      There's talent on display in Backrooms, notably Danny Vermette's creative production design, but the found-footage quality and art-horror atmospherics only take the movie so far. Ambiguity  isn't a fatal flaw, but Backrooms begins to feel repetitive as it crawls inside our heads.

      Backrooms works like a maze. Homes and offices are creepy. Lives are empty. Something's always missing. Some will find all this intriguing. Others may just want out. 

     My reaction was mixed. I appreciated Parsons' willingness to experiment and was disappointed that the characters often play second fiddle to so many half-baked ideas that suggest more than the film is  able (or perhaps willing) to realize.

Intriguing story buoys 'Pressure'

  On June 6, 1944, the Allied invasion of Normandy launched the brutal series of battles that brought Hitler’s ambitions in Western Europe to a halt. The movie Pressure deals with the 72 hours leading up to the momentous D-Day invasion.

  Director Anthony Maras, focuses on a part of the story that sounds prosaic but proves essential to Allied success, an accurate weather forecast.

    Pressure delivers a dramatized version of events that unfolded at Allied headquarters in Southwick House, Hampshire, relying on sharpening tensions between a low-key but obstinate Royal Air Force meteorologist (Andrew Scott) and a brash American meteorologist (Chris Messina). 

    Messina's Irving Krick, who had enormous successes predicting the weather during the North African campaign, relied on analog charts, arguing that the weather would be fine on June 5th, the original D-Day date.  

    Scott’s James Stagg rejected Krick's approach. He surveyed many locations in the North Atlantic to discover what he considered the requisite conditions for a mission-wrecking storm. Later, Stagg identified a brief window in which the beaches could be stormed. 

     Following Stagg's advice, Dwight D. Eisenhower, the Supreme Commander of the Allied Force, delayed the mission by a day.

    Working from a screenplay he co-wrote with David Haig, who also wrote the play on which the movie is based, Maras concentrates mostly on Stagg, an officer whose wife is on the brink of delivering their first child when he's ordered to join Eisenhower's command. 

   As Eisenhower, Brendan Fraser doesn't exactly become an Ike lookalike, even with make-up that gives him a bald pate. Still, Fraser conveys the pressure Eisenhower felt about obtaining a definitive forecast.

     To complicate matters, Eisenhower was being pressured by British Field Marshal Montgomery (Damian Lewis) to proceed as planned, lest the invasion be jeopardized, scuttling chances for an Allied victory.

    Pressure takes some liberties with the historical record, as it transforms an abstract theme (differing  approaches to weather forecasting) into a high-stakes conflict.

     Both Scott (subdued, focused, and intense) and Messina (confident to a fault) do their best to incorporate the essence of opposing personalities, but Pressure can be more informative than exciting, a re-enactment with added dramatic flourishes. 

      Beyond that, the drama unfolds in programmatic fashion, building toward the expectedly tense encounters between men whose advice will affect the war’s outcome. Well and good, but turning disagreements about the weather into a clash of styles (American vs. British) feels a bit inflated. 

     A bit of emotional leavening is added by Kerry Condon, whose Kay Summersby functions as an aide and confidant to the troubled Eisenhower; Summersby provides the steadying hand for Ike, who's tormented by the failure of a preparatory operation in which GIs died.

       In sum, Pressure benefits from a story that may be unfamiliar to contemporary audiences. It may not be a great wartime drama, but it shows how a decision based on technical expertise can alter the course of history.  Think of it as a historical footnote without which the sweeping main drama depicted in many other movies could not have unfolded.

A so-so helping of Jack Ryan

Like many burnt-out CIA agents, Jack Ryan (John Krasinski) wants to be left alone. But CIA agents, don't retire -- not in movies. So at the beginning of Jack Ryan: Ghost War, Jack is lured back into action by his boss, James Greer (Wendell Pierce). Screenwriters Krasinski, Aaron Rabin, and Noah Oppenheim bring the series to a close with a movie that alternates exposition and action in roughly equal measures. Jack's joined by colleague Mike November (Michael Kelly) on a supposedly routine mission turns into a complicated globe-threatening plot that teams Jack with Emma Marlow, a British intelligence agent played by Sienna Miller. Both are trying to locate a rogue agent (Max Beesley) who runs a group that wants to revive Starling, a deep-cover operation that believes dirty fighting is essential if those who would crash the gates of western civilization are to be quashed. Moving from Dubai to London, Ghost War bids goodbye to  characters, who -- before the end -- affirm their camaraderie, good-guy warriors who want to make a better world. The clash between decent operatives and those who go too far gives the movie a patina of seriousness, but overall Ghost War feels like a formulaic, mildly serviceable wrap-up. Ghost War is not playing theatrically, but is being released on Prime Video.

'The Mandalorian' hits the big screen

   In some respects, Star Wars: The Mandalorian and Grogu qualifies as one of the biggest puppet shows ever staged. The creatures who populate The Mandalorian may not look entirely real, but they display the imagination and skill created by a seamless mix of CGI, animatronics, puppetry, and models.

      I guess I'm saying that realism takes a backseat to craft in The Mandalorian and Grogu, a movie that's better than I thought it would be, even if it lacks the super thrills of the best Star Wars movies.

     For those unversed in the Mandalorian world, here are a few essentials:

     The Mandalorian, a.k.a. Din Djarin, works as a hired gun for the anti-imperial New Republic.

      In this case, The Mandalorian is charged with finding and arresting Lord Janu (Jonny Coyne), one of the series' villains. The Republic makes a deal with a couple of Hutts (yes, a duo of the familiar blubbery creatures) to locate Rotta the Hutt and return him to Hutt control.

      Jeremy Allen White gives voice to Rotta. If you're expecting to hear the voice associated with White's character in The Bear, forget it. White's voice sounds as if it has been given an electronic assist.

       Whatever else it is, The Mandalorian isn't a star showcase. The Mandalorian seldom appears without his helmet, which means Pedro Pascal, makes heavy use of voice work.

       Martin Scorsese's jangled delivery as a four-armed food truck operator feels more connected to Scorsese's personality and provides a welcome dash of humor.

       Looking unsettlingly like ... well ... herself, Sigourney Weaver turns up as Col. Ward, the New Republic commander who sends the Mandalorian on the mission that defines the movie's structure: Set a goal, confront an obstacle, stage a fight, and then proceed to the next set piece.

      The movie's emotional core involves father/son issues, a Star Wars favorite. Imprisoned by Lord Janu, Rotta -- son of Jabba-- has attained a degree of stardom as a kind of gladiator. He rejects his father's criminal past, and aims to lead a life of his own, once he escapes Janu's clutches.

      More importantly, The Mandalorian serves as a father figure to Grogu, who's devoted to him, and, who, thanks to one of the movie's better plot twists, eventually is asked to save his surrogate father.

      There's something happily unsophisticated about The Mandalorian, both in its dialogue and characterizations. Although he's responsible for the movie's more tender moments, Grogu offers as much cuteness as clout, underscoring a vibe that feels less like hard-core sci-fi than Disneyesque fantasy.

        Maybe it fits the current moment, but The Mandalaorian works for money rather than for a vision of a free and thriving universe. To ensure that we don't see him as too greedy, the screenplay offers instances in which The Mandalorian doesn't accept payment. If nothing else, he deserves a vacation after engaging in an exhaustive (and sometimes exhausting) string of battles.

         I should note that I haven't watched the series on Disney Plus and still found the story easy enough to follow.  I didn't expect a deep-space adventure rendered in epic proportions; a bit of Googling primed me for a Star Wars descendant with less imposing villains and lower stakes. That's what I got.

       Scale aside, the battle between the New Republic and the forces of evil imperialism have been dragging on for nearly 50 years. Who knows? Maybe Grogu  one day will no longer rest on The Mandalorian's shoulders, but ....

        Oh, forget it.

         The Star Wars universe is geared for endless battling to save the Republic. One expects the fight to continue. Talk about "forever wars."

A look behind the Kremlin's walls

  It's easy to see why director Olivier Assayas may have been drawn to Giuliano Da Empoli's novel about the machinations behind Vladimir Putin's rise to power in post-Soviet Russia. We seem to relish behind-the-scenes looks at powerful institutions, perhaps hoping that we'll enjoy the contradictory pleasures of savoring and condemning the rot we find.

  Employing a strong cast led by Paul Dano, as Vadim Baranov, a master manipulator who becomes a backstage force in Putin's career, Assayas presents a highlight reel of Russian history from the 1980s to the invasion of Crimea. 

    Assayas unifies the movie's various segments with a narration by Baranov, who meets at his country home with a visiting Yale professor (a wasted Jeffrey Wright) to whom he tells his story, a framing device that weighs the movie down.

   Shifting focus and locations, Assayas introduces various important characters in the story, notably Boris Berezovsky (Will Keen), an oligarch who identifies Putin as a successor to the increasingly ineffectual and doddering Boris Yeltsin. Berezovski mistakenly thinks Putin can be controlled.

   It takes awhile for him to appear, but Jude Law's Putin turns out to be a powerful addition to the movie. Compact, brutal and cunning, Putin's forceful presence can be felt even when he's off screen.  

   Working from a screenplay by Emmanuel Carrere, Assayas finds youthful energy in the wild days just after the fall of the Soviet Union. At this point, Baranov is a young theater student who samples the libertine freedoms of the 80s and 90s. 

    Baranov's theatrical background proves critical to his advancement; he's assigned the role of creating the illusory reality around Putin. He becomes skilled in the use of TV and eventually the internet. He's a master manipulator who operates without conscience, a technician who wants to be part of the action.

    Looking back on Dano's performance as Baranov, it's understandable that he chose to play this schemer with a low-key whispery voice. Baranov isn't a man of conviction; he's a man of prowess. Still, Dano's choice can feel a bit undercooked, and the characters surrounding Baranov can be more interesting than he, a problem the movie can't always overcome. 

     Early on, Baranov is smitten by a young woman (Alicia Vikander) who will crop up throughout in relationships with various characters, including a flamboyant, budding oligarch (Tom Sturridge) who lures her away from Baranov.

     Some of the actors are playing real people; others -- including Dano -- portray fictionalized characters. Baranov reportedly is based on Vladislav Surkov, a former Putin confidant and advisor. I'm always a bit wary of movies that mix the real and the fictional, especially when dealing with people who are still alive.

    Many of the actors employ Russian accents; others (including Dano) don't, but Assayas deserves credit for creating the impression that we're watching Russian characters in a complex drama with moving  parts that collide and abrade, often in ways that create an intriguing picture of undisguised deceit and corruption.

    For all that, The Wizard can't quite live up to the magnitude of its subject. At 136 minutes, The Wizard of the Kremlin harbors a surfeit of betrayals and power moves, but the movie also comes across as a crowded, novelistic effort that's not without interest,  but too frequently gets lost in the weeds.

 

On the road to nowhere in Italy

Two wide-sodden thieves (Sergio Romano and Pierpaolo Capovilla) wander the Veneto region of Italy in The Last One for the Road.  Romano's Carlobianchi and Capovilla's Doriano have become low-level con artists since their lucrative business, selling stolen sunglasses, crumbled. The business hit the skids when Genio (Andrea Pennachi)  fled to Argentina to avoid jail.  He seemed to be the trio's mastermind. Now, Carlobianchi and Doriano are on their way to meet Genio, who's returning to Italy. En route, they pick up a reserved young architecture student (Filippo Scotti) who they introduce to their free-form world. The two men improvise various schemes, most of them illegal or unethical. With their reluctant protege offering help, they pose as a construction team for a count who's trying to stave off the building of a road through his garden. At various other times, Scotti's character imagines that he's Genio, assuming a more assertive role in the proceedings. Director Francesco Sossai keeps the tone light, but despite a number of amusing moments, Last One begins to lag as it drifts through drab bars and spent villages. At its best, though, The Last One for the Road works as a tattered Valentine to the Veneto region, seen here through the eyes of two men whose ceaseless search for one final drink has become the low-grade goal fueling their travels on the road to nowhere.