An oddly structured Kafka biopic

 

  Director Agnieszka Holland subverts traditional biopic structure in Franz, a fragmented look at the life of Franz Kafka, the Czech author who died in 1924.

  Holland (Green Border) blends Kafka’s personal and aesthetic sensibilities with the quotidian aspects of a life that included a domineering father, loving relationships with his mother and one of his three sisters, and nondescript employment at an insurance company.

 Disregarding chronological order, Holland leaps about in time, offering ample references to Kafka's work. At various points, Holland shows Kafka imagining that his hands are webbed, a conceit he used in his fiction.

 These references sometimes feel forced, and it helps to be familiar with Kafka’s work if you want to catch them all.

   In one such unmistakable effort, Kafka’s father crushes a cockroach that has wandered onto the dining room table, a brash joke that points to Kafka’s Metamorphosis, a novel in which a man becomes a giant insect. 

   Raised in a German-Jewish family, Kafka’s imagination far surpassed the measured quality of his life.  Kafka's relationship with his father becomes important but isn't offered as the sole explanation for his inward-looking personality.

   In a sequence involving the young Kafka (Daniel Dongres), his beefy father (Peter Kurth) tosses his son into a river, a move designed to teach the boy to swim. Was Kafka scarred for life? Evidently not. We later learn that Kafka enjoyed swimming and swam throughout his life.

   German-Israeli actor Idan Weiss plays the adult Kafka as a strange man who inspired a wave of kitsch in contemporary Prague. Holland shows us burger joints with Kafka's name. A kaleidoscope is one thing, but Holland’s present-day scenes, which include a guided tour of Kafka-related sights, are more disruptive than illuminating, self-conscious attempts to let us know that the misfit has been mainstreamed.

    Kafka’s love life isn’t exactly scintillating, either. At one point, Kafka becomes engaged to Felice Bauer (Carol Schuler), a woman in whom he shows little romantic interest. After falling for Bauer's best friend, the lively Greta Bloch (Gesa Schermuly), Kafka broke off his engagement to Bauer in embarrassing fashion.

    Writing evidently didn't come easily for Kafka. Holland creates early scenes in which Kafka, while still living at home, tried to write amid household bustle and intrusions by a father who wanted his son to pay more attention to the family business. Kafka longs for silence.

     Kafka died of tuberculosis in 1924. He was 40, and his death preceded the Third Reich, which Holland points to in a late scene in which Kafka's confidant 

Max Brod (Sebastian Schwarz) and his wife nervously deal with a Nazi soldier as they flee Prague. Brod had all of Kafka’s work with him. Without Brod, Kafka’s writing might never have been discovered.

     Holland’s approach puts a considerable burden on Weis, who sometimes has the sly look of someone who’s protecting secrets no one else knows. Thin and prone to engaging in strange physical exercises, Kafka is tender with a prostitute but abandons the pursuit of pleasure when his attention suddenly shifts.

   It’s possible to take this sudden shift as a metaphor for a movie that frequently shifts its attentions, sometimes in scenes in which characters -- notably one of Kafka's sisters -- break the fourth wall and speak directly to the camera.

     Working from a screenplay by Marek Epstein, Holland conveys the contradictions between Kafka’s interior life and bourgeois life in Prague, making  room for information that can seem almost incidental.

      We learn that Kafka wrote only in German and had no use for typewriters. He wrote by hand. At one point, Kafka checks into a sanitarium where the men march around nude and play games of tug of war in the nude. He seems to be having a good time.

      Perhaps to give the uninitiated a sense of Kafka’s work, Holland presents a scene in which Kafka does a public reading of In the Penal Colony. Holland presents a bizarre reenactment of the story, which centers on a brutal but meaningless punishment.

    At its best, Franz gives us a feeling for this odd, elusive fellow who saw the absurdity of institutions in a world of ungraspable rules.

   The word "Kafkaesque" has become an overused cliche for anything that appears to be off-kilter. Holland works more slyly, but if Kafka’s life was a riddle, Holland’s movie, though sometimes vividly realized, doesn't solve it.

Bob's Cinema Diary: 'The Rivals of Amziah King' and 'Learning to Fly'

The Rivals of Amziah King

 The Rivals of Amziah King stars Matthew McConaughey as a country singer and beekeeper who turns a Native American woman into a devoted protege. As a foster child, Kateri (Angelina Looking Glass) shared a home with Amziah. When she re-enters his life as an adult, she's exposed to a beekeeping world she learns to love. 

  In an overextended dramatic section, Kateri tries to save Amziah’s business after his hives are stolen.

 The movie emerges as a bit of a hodgepodge: a celebration of down-home virtues (the kind you’d find at a weekly potluck at the local church), a lively music film, and a labored drama in which Kateri searches for Amziah’s bees.  

  Too long at 130 minutes, Amziah King gets only so far with applications of rural Oklahoma color. I enjoyed director Andrew Patterson's presentation of toe-tapping music, and McConaughey seems to be having fun, but this foray into country virtues can’t sustain the infectious rhythms of its early going. Perhaps because of a surfeit of plot, what begins promisingly loses its way.

Learning to Fly

Scattered and teetering on the edge of becoming an advertisement for HOKA running shoes, the documentary Learning to Fly tells a story about ultra-distance running. The movie introduces Aisha McAdams, a photographer who made her mark chronicling the efforts of long-distant competitors. The movie includes a variety of runners, principally Jim Walmsley, a top runner whom McAdams follows to several races. 

   A runner herself, McAdams reveals details of her difficult upbringing as she tries to understand why people participate in such a grueling sport. 

    Torn between McAdams and the depiction of various races, the movie could have done more to develop both.

  You may not realize that MacAdams, who offers narration throughout the film, isn't the movie's director. That job falls to Max Lowe, who skillfully shows the teamwork required to support a 100-mile run. Race scenes can be impressive, although the athletes are more defined by the intensity of their efforts than by anything revealed in interviews. 

 So, a mixed review of Learning to Fly, a less-than-triumphant documentary that earns points for opening a world that may be unfamiliar to many viewers.

A shipping magnate throws a party

   Willem Dafoe plays a Greek shipping magnate in The Birthday Party, another barbed critique of life among the obscenely rich.

   Basing his movie on a 2007 novel by Panos Karnezis, writer/director Miguel Angel Jimenez creates a fictionalized view of a character who resembles Aristotle Onassis. 

   Aways adventurous, Dafoe plays Marcos Timoleon, a calculating boss who’s accustomed to controlling everything but who has difficulty corralling his strong-willed daughter, Sofia (Vic Carmen Sonne). 

   Sofia’s latest challenge to her father centers on her plan to marry Ian Forster (Joe Cole), a writer who's working on a biography of Marcos.  

   To further complicate matters, Sofia is pregnant with a child Marcos insists she'll never have. The movie eventually shows the twisted lengths to which Marcos will go to ensure that he prevails.

     The story begins with a more conventional attempt at persuasion. Marcos arranges an elaborate 25th for Sofia that’s designed to coax her back into the family fold.

   Hangers-on and those wishing to curry favor with Marcos have gathered for the event. To him, they’re like extras in a show meant to protect his legacy.

    The cast includes Emma Suarez as Olivia, the wife Marcos is divorcing. Estrangement aside, he wants her help with wild-child Sofia. Sofia’s fate became even more important to Marcos after his beloved son died in a seaplane crash.

    A steady Christos Stergioglou plays Patrikios, a doctor who’s also Marcos's closest friend and confidant. The movie could have used more of him.

   We’ve already seen too much wealth porn to be overwhelmed by the luxe surroundings of Marcos’ private island, and the drama that unfolds proves more dispiriting than illuminating, a dip into a toxic pool full of characters, none especially admirable.

Regan and Gorbachev talk nukes

 

  Put Jeff Daniels, Jared Harris, and J.K. Simmons in the same movie, and you’ve created interest - at least among those who value capable acting. In The Brink of War, Daniels plays Ronald Reagan; Harris appears as  Mikhail Gorbachev, and Simmons portrays George Shultz, Reagan’s Secretary of State. 

   In 1986, Reagan and Gorbachev met in Reykjavik for a summit meant to tackle issues of nuclear disarmament. 

   The Brink of War offers a dry, sometimes prosaic account of a meeting disrupted by Reagan's insistence on including  a human rights discussion Gorbachev had no interest in having.

    Gorbachev also objected to Reagan’s plan to build a Star Wars defense system for the US., even after  Reagan suggested that Gorbachev could use US technology to build his own missile shield.

    The summit failed, but a year later it produced the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty. That means the  movie must focus less on a triumphant outcome than on the back-and-forth between the two leaders. 

     Aside from Simmons Shultz, who cautions Reagan, not to miss an unprecedented opportunity, the supporting cast doesn’t have much to do.

     Nancy Reagan (Hope Davis) remained at home, staying in phone contact with the president. Branka Katic portrays Raisa Gorbacheva. She accompanied her husband, but mostly remained on board the ship that brought Gorbachev to Iceland. Occasionally, she came ashore for photo ops.

     Rather than playing like a momentous historical moment, the film, written and directed by Michael Russell Gunn, unfolds like a determined recreation. 

     As for Daniels, make-up can’t quite turn him into a Reagan lookalike, but he masters Reagan’s delivery and offers moments of hard-headed conviction and easy wit.

    In all, the movie's style feels musty and dated, as if it has been shackled to the need for period authenticity and seriousness, which is understandable but less than exciting.

A horror movie with sex on its mind

  Remember the horror series Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma? The original starred Billy Preston, an actress who has vanished from public view. Obligatory sequels followed, establishing the Camp Miasma movies as a horror staple that wore out its welcome.

  Stop scanning your memory. There never was a Camp Miasma series, but director Jane Schoenbrun bases her movie -- Teenage Sex and Death at Camp Miasma -- on a meta-conceit. An indie filmmaker, Hannah Einbinder's Kris wants to remake the original Camp Miasma movie, retooling it for contemporary audiences.

    To prepare, Kris travels to an abandoned camp where the movie's former star (Gillian Anderson) lives in isolation. Schoenbrun (I Saw the TV Glow) makes movies that have garnered a following, partly because Schoenbrun's films deal with (wait, let me try to calculate the number of themes) movie madness, trans issues, pop culture, female eroticism, and campy asides, this time evidenced in the search for the perfect Jolly Rancher.

     The horror element of Schoenbrun's movie involves a character called Little Death that lives at the bottom of a lake near the abandoned camp, emerging occasionally to spear people to death or, in the case of Anderson's Billy, to deliver the world's best orgasm. 

    Little Death wears a box over his head that resembles a repurposed air vent that might have been salvaged from the bottom of the lake. His look is more last-gasp Halloween costume than one calculated for terror.

     The screenplay makes comparisons between Billy and Norma Desmond of Sunset Boulevard. Kris wants to convince Billy to appear in the remake. A studio wants a version that's more woke, less transphobic.

     Less a character than a collection of intellectualized tropes and inhibited sexuality, Kris makes an argument for the remake that sails over Billy's head. Billy understands that Kris' over-intellectualization masks the link fundamental between fear and desire that she's been avoiding.

      Transparent artifice from production designer Brandon Tonner-Connolly makes it clear that Camp Miasma, which includes a segment from the original movie, needn't be taken with Kris' cinematic seriousness.

     That's not to say that Schoenbrun doesn't indulge in gushing sprays of plasma as Billy slowly coaxes Kris into accepting her libidinous desires, no matter how strange they may seem to others. 

      Mostly a two-hander, the movie includes supporting performances from Jasmin Savoy Brown as Mari, Kris's bisexual partner, and Aren Buchholz as Thor, Mari's male lover.

      Appearing as a studio exec who's baffled when Kris calls him to pitch her latest version of Camp Miasma, Dylan Baker lands the movie’s funniest scene, a send-up of the mismatch between studio preoccupations and auteur ambitions.

      Wild and amusing as all of this may sound, Camp Miasma misses an essential horror ingredient: scares. Moreover, its amusements seem aimed at an audience that, like Kris, is fluent in the language of horror. It pays to know something about split diopters and how they’re used in horror films.

      Speaking with a southern accent, Anderson's Billy is more intent on liberating Kris's sexuality than on making another movie. Anderson's's vampy, campy performance constitutes the movie’s main attraction, enriched as it is by the humanity Anderson* conveys.

      Camp Miasma, which is less morose than I Saw the TV Glow, lives in its own world and seems aimed at those who want to be part of Schoenbrun's inside joking and gender explorations. Me? I kept waiting for the movie to break through its own self-involvement.

*Thanks to reader who pointed out name mistake. Now fixed.

Hungry dinos trample the burbs

 Advanced publicity for The End of Oak Street blames a mysterious cosmic event for transporting a  typical American suburban neighborhood to a time when dinosaurs roamed the earth. 

  Anne Hathaway, who seems to be everywhere this summer, and Ewan McGregor, who lately has  been working in TV series, star as husband and wife in a high-concept job that keeps them on the run. 

  Director David Robert Mitchell can’t muster the suburban charm that Spielberg has mastered, but his movie begs for comparison with Spielberg’s Jurassic Park, which did a better job of providing a reason for why humans must struggle to keep from becoming dinosaur food, a fate not all Oak Street residents can escape.

   The movie's involuntary time travel involves a large bubble that intermittently appears and serves as a portal through time. As an explanation, it proves laughably feeble. Maybe that was the point.

    Mitchell leans heavily on two young performers — Maisy Stella and Christian Convery. They play the Platt children, who dodge dinosaurs without their parents when Convery's Brian sets out to find his beloved dog Starbuck. His sister follows, and another youngster (Jordan Alexa Davis) eventually joins them.

   The End of Oak Street seems to be turning pages in a give-em-what-they-came-for playbook, offering a series of dinosaur attacks and relying heavily on CGI to keep the film monster heavy and to ensure that these destructive behemoths prove reasonably disgusting.

   A giant snake invading a house makes for one of the best-assembled set pieces and there is (wait for it) a scene of dinosaur copulation), a stab at genre-mocking amusement in the midst of survival terror.

   Watching McGregor's character try to defend himself with a sledgehammer looks a bit silly. Hathaway wields a rifle. But the movie emphasizes flight more than fight.

    Modest attempts are made to deepen the characters. Aspiring to be more than a homemaker,  Hathaway’s Denise is writing a novel; McGregor’s Greg tipples from a hidden bottle; he has been reduced to delivering pizzas to earn extra cash. Husband and wife often argue.

   Best taken as a love letter to ‘80s cinema, End of Oak Street might have done well to lean more heavily into its goofier aspects and tried for full-out comedy. 

  As it stands, a formulaic End of Oak Street offers many views of Hathaway running, Hathaway screaming, and Hathaway expressing fear. 

  It’s not easy to spoof shlock movies without becoming one, a trap that End of Oak Street can’t entirely avoid, but credit Mitchell with moving rapidly until he reaches the film's unfortunately muddled copout of an ending.

 

Coming of age in Las Cruces

  

 It's not unusual for a family to go through a crisis. But what if every day presented a crisis of some sort? I ask the question by way of introducing Olmo, a movie about a Mexican-American family living in Las Cruces, N.M. in 1979. Aivan Uttapa plays the title character, a young man who is often called upon to care for his quadriplegic father (Gustavo Sánchez Parra). Burdened by the need to work, Mom (Andrea Suárez Paz) relies on Olmo and his sister (Rosa Armendariz) for help around the house. Olmo does help, but typical teenage impulses and needs often conflict with his familial role. Olmo focuses his hormonal attentions on Nina (Melanie Frometa), a girl who lives across the street. Director Fernando Eimbcke mostly adopts Olmo's point-of-view, developing the story around attempts by Olmo and best friend Miguel (Diego Olmeda) to attend a party Nina has told them about. They're welcome -- providing they bring a stereo. A scene in which Dad gives Olmo a lesson in stereo repair becomes a mini-study of father/son tensions. All the performances are good, and young Olmeda is perfect as a kid who supports his friend, tries to learn how to dance, and follows Olmo when he mistakes a home where a funeral is being held for the location of the party they hope to crash. Olmo has serious moments, but Eimbcke's affection for the characters is palpable, and we feel it too.

When sex happens once a year

  Boasting a blatantly contrived high-concept premise, One Night Only is better than it ought to be. At the same time, the movie — which rides on  agreeable performances from Monica Barbaro and Collum Tower — isn’t the winning charmer it might have been.

  The contrivance: One Night Only, directed by Will Gluck and written by Travis Baum, creates a world in which unmarried people are subject to an oppressive government mandate: They’re allowed to have sex on only one night a year. 

  Don't expect a hard satirical punch; the movie delivers more of a powder-puff pat. The sex mandate stems from a fascistic government that wants to promote marriage and restrain what it regards as profligacy. 

   Gluck surrounds this implausible premise with a spiffed-up version of New York City, where Tower’s Owen operates a pizza restaurant and Barbaro’s Allie sings for a living. 

    Afflicted by stage fright, Allie is relegated to recording songs for commercials, in this case for a drug that’s supposed to help with psoriasis. Is there a compelling reason that psoriasis maintains its cliched status as joke material? 

   After an initial flop of a meet-cute, Allie and Owen try to find someone with whom to have sex while the clock ticks its way towards celibacy. 

    A romantic at heart, Allie gives up on any hope of finding love after an ill-fated foray to a bar with a pal.  She heads home, but her gay roommate (Quintessa Swindell) gives her a sexy dress and pushes her out again.

    For his part, Owen is stranded by his girlfriend (Maya Hawke). Over an expensive omakase dinner, she announces that she doesn’t plan to sleep with him. She's after a new experience. 

   Allie and Owen keep encountering each other as the movie works its way through a variety of contrivances, notably a search for condoms in a market where they seem to have sold out.

   Eventually we meet Owen’s mom (Molly Ringwald). She has planned a sexual evening with her partner (LeVar Burton). Still, the movie mostly wanders through a Gen Z world, introducing a set piece involving a hip private party. Allie easily gains admission. Owen is shut out.

    At the party, Allie meets a rock star (Charlie Gillespie) who pushes her to sing in public. He charms her until their encounter goes bad with a bit that lands an unneeded sour note.

    A determined socialite (a sharp Ella Loudon) gets Owen into the club, but that relationship also goes awry in another scene that hovers on the border of tastelessness.

     Look, we know that Owen and Allie are destined to be together. Some of the dialogue is amusing, as is a precocious kid (Mateo Ray) who boldly presents himself as a possible sex partner for Allie.

     So back to the beginning. Gluck (Easy A and Anyone But You) gets good work from his cast, but can't liberate enough laughs from this gimmicky fable. 

     

       

       

'Ice Cream Man' offers gore galore

Eli Roth has directed notable horror movies, among them  Cabin Fever (2002) and Hostel (2005). He's also produced such helpings of horror as Clown (2014) and Haunt (2019). Now, Roth arrives with Ice Cream Man, a horror movie that tries to cut the heart out of idyllic, small-town life when a smiling ice cream man (Ari Millen) turns the town's kids into killers. Ice Cream Man tries to walk the line between sadistically funny and sickeningly gory. Roth knows how to do that, but once you see a sweet little girl saw off her mother's head with a hacksaw, you've pretty much got the bloody drift. I'm not going to describe all of  Roth's bloody inventions, but if Roth was looking for a satirical edge, he misses. Roth can't squeeze much thematic juice out this gory kiddie revolt against adult authority. The plot centers on Jared (Charlie Zeltzer), youngster who remains immune to the killing urge because he's lactose intolerant and didn't eat the tainted ice cream. Before the movie ends, Roth serves up a silly, tortured explanation for all the kiddie carnage. For the record, Roth plays Jared's father in a serving of horror that melts away while we await the next serving of gore, such delicacies as brains scooped from the head of a school principal. Gross? Yes. Up to the best standards of horror wit? Hardly.

The callow youth of Anthony Bourdain

  In the summer of 1975, a callow 19-year-old from New Jersey traveled to Provincetown, Mass., a certified mecca of free-style living. Tony (later to become celebrity chef and TV star Anthony Bourdain) spent the summer working in restaurants and partying. 

 At the time, Bourdain was dealing with rejection for a writing fellowship at Vassar, the college he attended. But that didn't stop him from claiming to be a writer to anyone who’d listen. 

 Bourdain assayed this early part of his life in Kitchen Confidential (2000), a bestseller that helped boost his public profile and establish his reputation as a bad boy of culinary arts. 

  In the movie, Tony, a renegade young Bourdain  (Dominic Sessa) follows a girl (Emilia Jones) he has fallen for to Provincetown. Once there, he lands a restaurant job and sleeps on a hammock on the porch of the Portuguese restaurateur (Antonio Banderas) who will become his mentor.

  So goes the movie-altered version of this fledgling period of Bourdain's life. Johnson turns Tony into a coming-of-age story in which a young man learns to accept the use of the more formal  “Anthony,” a decision that's emblematic of his emerging seriousness about food.

   The movie opens with a telling quote from Kitchen Confidential in which the mature Anthony looks back at his young self: “I was — to be frank — a spoiled, miserable, narcissistic, self-destructive and thoughtless lout, and badly in need of a good ass-kicking.” 

    We don't spend much time wondering whether this knockabout kid will ruin his life. We know Tony's arrogance will make way for the man who became a worthy guide through the world of food — no matter how exotic the fare. Bourdain's travelogue and food expeditions also yielded one of the best-written shows on television.

     In that sense, Johnson’s movie can't help being a bit of a cheat. We know the immature jerk of Tony will mature. We also know that Tony's pretensions about being a writer eventually became real; as a writer, he matched a broad range of interests with keen powers of observation. He didn't have to pretend to be smart; he was smart.

     Filled with drinking, drugs, and carousing, Tony's youthful summer is set against the noisy mayhem of a kitchen backdrop. Tony makes novice mistakes but eventually gains some footing. He discovers that he could feel at home in a kitchen, a feeling I'd liken to what some of us felt about the newsrooms where we learned to be reporters, places where we thought we could belong.

     A small cast of kitchen characters includes Sal (Leo Woodall), a womanizing, cocaine-snorting oyster shucker and prep cook who wears his callousness with a confidence Tony can't match. 

    Johnson’s story includes an incident in which the restaurant suffers a major calamity. Other scenes depict Tony's wobbly relationship with Jones’ Nancy. She's the woman who eventually would become Bourdain's first wife. 

    Credit Banderas with a weary and wise performance as a chef who's so religious he makes Tony accompany him to church on Sunday. Banderas's character presides over a band of young rogues but he respects the disciplined ways of the kitchen. He may not be a the top of his game, but he knows where the peaks are.

    Tony stands as a decent preview of a life that was destined to become more interesting after the movie’s redemptive conclusion. The adult Bourdain was better company than his 19-year-old self -- and more interesting, as well.

     Bourdain committed suicide in June of 2018. He was 61. Johnson minimizes suggestions about the tragic end awaiting the cocky kid who Sessa brings to life. He sticks to the world Bourdain inhabited before his life began to take shape.

      Some of the dramatic license Johnson takes bothered me, but I went along for the ride. I appreciated the movie’s willingness to spice up the coming-of-age formula. I also realized that in this post-Bear era, I could still appreciate a foray into the bustling world of a professional kitchen, even in a tourist trap of a restaurant that was a long way from Brasserie Les Halles, the now gone New York eatery where Bourdain became executive chef.

     Nineteen-year-old Tony probably would have had to borrow a few bucks to purchase even a moderately priced appetizer at Brasserie Les Halles. Tony's mix of comedy and colorful incidents will do until someone makes a movie about the grown-up who fascinated us with his adventurous spirit and knowledge. That might make for a more memorable movie.

      

      

A samurai tires of the sword

  When a movie entitled The Samurai and the Prisoner arrives, it's fair to expect ample swordplay. Director Kiyoshi Kurosawa defies that expectation in a big way.

 Adapting a 2021 novel by Honobu Yonezawa, Kurosawa's 16th-century period piece offers more talk than action, much of it concerning intrigue inside a castle that's about to be overrun by a powerful warlord.

  Although the movie contains one battle sequence and a couple of additional violent scenes, The Samurai and the Prisoner mostly involves conversations in which the lord of the castle questions retainers or ruminates about the coming siege. 

   Kurosawa relies heavily on these conversations to accomplish what other directors might have shown in flashbacks or as part of a flowing narrative. The approach takes a bit of adjustment, but it soon becomes clear that Kurosawa’s four-part story centers on betrayals, tests of loyalty, and the difficulties of breaking with long-established customs.

    Masahiro Motoki plays Araki Murashige, lord of Arioka Castle. Tired of fighting and wary of samurai demands for revenge, Murashige disappoints his followers by sparing the lives of those who cross him.

    A pivotal event occurred before the movie's start when Murashige broke with the invading Oda Nobunaga, a leader of acknowledged brutality. Murashige spends most of the movie trying to outsmart his opponent or trying to avoid the worst consequences of a devastating invasion.

   Masaki Suda plays Kuroda Kanbei, the prisoner of the title, a brilliant strategist who works for Nobunaga. Murashige imprisons him, even relying on the brilliant him for advice, much of it delivered in the form of cryptic riddles.

    Murashige’s wife (Yuriko Yoshitaka) may have her own agenda. Having already tasted Nobunaga's cruelty, she’s obsessed with ideas about the afterlife and allows Kurosawa to explore another theme while establishing Murashige as a skeptic about beliefs he dismisses as superstitious.

    As for Murashige, he interrogates his retainers about matters that include murder and betrayal. At times, the movie plays like a series of high-stakes mini whodunnits that include the murder of an eight-year-old captive Murashige wanted spared.

   Another episode centers on a severed head that has been taken by Murashige's forces, a battle trophy that also confirms the death of an enemy general.

   Divided into chapters marked by each of the four seasons, the story proves talky and sometimes confusing. The characters are based on real historical figures who may be well known to Japanese audiences. American audiences aren’t likely to have that advantage.

    Known mostly for horror films (Cure, Pulse, and Retribution), Kurosawa (no relation to the great Akira Kurosawa) plays this one straight, although he's not averse to adding melodramatic flourishes, particularly at the film's conclusion. 

   The Samurai and the Prisoner boasts fine performances, an unwavering commitment to dialogue, and what appears to be careful period detailing. But as the movie wore on, I wondered whether Yonezawa's book -- described as a blend of historical and detective fiction -- might have worked better on the page. 

   Kurosawa’s approach tells as much as it shows, and the result can be wearing in ways that keep the characters at a distance, turning a 147-minute movie into a succession of sometimes revealing puzzles that generate limited emotional involvement.

'Spider-Man' can still spin some fun

  As far as Spider-Man is concerned, the world has amnesia. Still heralded as a crime fighter, Spider-Man has become a loner. Even his closest friends have forgotten that he’s also Peter Parker, a nice guy from Queens. 

 To clarify: The collective loss of memory that underlies Spider-Man: Brand New Day stems from developments at the end of Spider-Man: No Way Home (2021), the previous installment of the four-film series starring Tom Holland as Spider-Man.

 Directed by Dustin Daniel Cretton, this edition explores Spidey's deep loneliness, the soul-wrenching isolation that derives from being alienated from the humanizing comforts of his former life. 

   Don't fret: This alienation isn’t buried deep inside  psychological subtext: It’s right on the surface as are the usual Marvel tropes about problems that accrue to those deemed "special."

   So let’s spin ahead: Brand New Day offers well-mounted action, nicely executed vertiginous airborne set pieces, and a scene-stealing role for Jon Bernthal, who plays Frank Castle, The Punisher. As a character of ambiguous intent, Bernthal brings an amusingly credible dose of urban grit to the proceedings. 

    Mark Ruffalo also has a nice turn as Bruce Banner, the professor who becomes The Hulk. Like a child who recognizes that a tantrum has gotten out of hand, Banner agonizes over his destructive powers.

    Better yet, the movie remains grounded on Earth, one of the things that makes Spider-Man appealing. Sans his uniform, Spider-Man's body shows the bruises he receives from slamming into buildings. He also must fiddle with ways to control is arachnid genes.

    Familiarity with The Avengers and X-Men movies helps because you'll find some of the inevitable cross-pollination that has become a defining Marvel feature. Think branding within branding, which can create confusion for those who arrive unequipped with glossaries.

    The emotion in Brand New Day derives from Spider-Man's relationship with girlfriend MJ (Zendaya). Best pal Ned (Jacob Batalon) is obsessed with Spider-Man’s crime-fighting, but has no idea who the person under the mask might be. Both characters knew Spider-Man's secret identity before the onset of global amnesia.

     Holland does a fine job as a young man grappling with identity and loss, not only of his pals, but of wise  Aunt May (Marissa Tomei), whose grave he visits and who appears in a flashback.

     An early picture battle with Scorpion (Michael Mando) has some sting, but the main story revolves around a revelation (no fair saying more) fans should appreciate. 

      The story introduces a bureaucratic agency dubbed Damage Control. As Damage Control director William Metzger (Tramel Tillman) says he wants to harness the energy of a villain who knows how to leap from mind to mind and take over the bodies of … well …. anyone. 

      Depicted as waves of telepathic energy that ripple through the air, body-hopping can happen between any two beings who are no more than 33 feet apart.

     Marvel newcomer Sadie Sink, never mind how she turns up, proves a welcome addition. Watch for a cameo appearance by Florence Pugh as Yelena Belova, a character with an unusual office.

     I can't say that I loved Brand New Day. Some of the storytelling feels muddled, a few talky scenes add emotion but slow the pace, and, true to Marvel's MO, Brand New Day dutifully does groundwork for possible future movies.

     Still, I enjoyed enough of Brand New Day to stay with it. Marvel's big-screen menu (sequels, prequels, and stand-alone adventures) seems as if it will run on forever, but credit Brand New Day for qualifying as a worthy special of the day.

                                     

Can a robot assuage a family’s grief?

   

 The loss of a child is serious business, but director Hirokazu Kore-eda treats the subject gently in Sheep in the Box, a fable bolstered by a touch of sci-fi. Kore-eda's screenplay involves a humanoid, a robot child that enters the movie to ease the pain of two grieving parents (Daigo Yamamoto and Haruka Ayase). 
   A company called Rebirth contacts the grieving couple. The company creates an exact replica of their late son Kakeru (Rimu Kuwaki), a humanoid that's been programmed to look, sound, and act like the seven-year-old child they lost.

 Kore-eda who won the Palm d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival in 2018 for Shoplifters, adds idiosyncratic touches to a fable that sits on the edge of formula, never quite submitting to it but not finding a strikingly fresh alternative either.

    Not surprisingly, these parents -- one a carpenter, the other an architect -- run into problems when this robot boy arrives in their lives; the presence of the replacement child forces them to consider the grief they've been unable to face. Each assumes blame for the boy's death. They both had excuses for not picking Kakeru up from school on the day he died.

    Made with a gentle spirit, Sheep in the Box passes easily -- perhaps too easily.  Initially, Mom fully embraces the little robot. Dad remains skeptical. And each parent goes through periods of frustration with a son who doesn't eat and whose electrical system makes it dangerous for him to immerse in water.

      Some familiar questions arise: Is it possible that Kakeru has a soul? Is it unethical for adults to have control of Kakeru's body, which has been equipped with a GPS that prevents him from straying too far from his anxiety-prone parents.

      At one point, Kakeru meets other humanoids; they form a group that's intent on moving away from their human "parents," some of whom are abusive. 

      The movie sharpens when Grandma (Kimiko Yo) turns up, making no bones about her opposition to using an android as a palliative for grief. 

       Questions about humanity's future are raised but go nowhere. We're left with small humane moments, as Dad struggles with contradictions about his feelings. Mom, busy with one her projects, eventually faces some of the resentments motherhood can engender.

      Sheep in the Box -- the title derives from The Little Prince, a story Kakeru loves --offers sentiment, sci-fi elements, and tender touches, but the movie slips by without engaging on the deeper levels. A provocative subject fails to provoke.

‘The Dink’ is bland — but cheerful

The Dink, a movie about a former tennis wiz reduced to playing pickleball, is a cheerfully bland comedy about a game that has swept the country. Jake Johnson plays Dustin Boyd, a loser who works as a junior tennis instructor at a country club run by his father (Ed Harris). A tough old bird, Dad regards his son as a failure. An ill-fated match with Andy Roddick ended teenage Dustin's promising career. He’s been floundering ever since. The plot hinges on a request by country club members -- led by Patton Oswalt -- to expand the club’s number of pickleball courts. Harris's old-school character resists because he sees pickleball as a threat to all he respects. It's too easy, he thinks. A reluctant Dustin soon tries his hand at pickleball, teaming with Candace (Mary Steenburgen), a recent divorcee. The two get off to a bumpy start, but become participants in a story that flirts with May/December romance. Aaron Chen portrays PJ, the sidekick who thinks Dustin can do no wrong. Ben Stiller, one of the movie's producers, signs on as a doctor who treats Dustin for a minor injury and adds unfunny off-color flourishes.  Sean Clements’ screenplay sets up a match that puts the club's future at stake. Will the pickleballers triumph? Cameos from Roddick and John McEnroe add spice, but the overall effort proves forgettable. The Dink is playing on Apple TV.

She orders him to have sex

Erika Tracy is a Los Angeles art star. Just ask her. As played by Olivia Wilde, Erika becomes the driving force in I Want Your Sex, director Gregg Araki's satirical look at a conceptual artist who hires a floundering 23-year-old college graduate (Cooper Hoffman) as a studio assistant. Delighted to land a job, Hoffman's Elliott gets more than he bargained for when Erika bluntly proposes that they have sex. Thus begins Elliott's wild foray into sexual waters he doesn't know how to navigate, something co-worker Zap (Mason Gooding) senses from the outset. Enthralled with his new sexual playground, Elliott eventually bids farewell to his aggressively indifferent girlfriend (Charli xcx). Daveed Diggs plays Vikktor, Erika's haughty, judgmental manager who tells Elliott that he's not the first young man to travel this road. Erika knows that she's all style and no substance, but she's skilled at playing the art game. Wilde has a field day playing an artist who dresses to shock and boasts about her lascivious ways. Erika's sexual encounters with Elliott are preceded by instructions that come across as orders, even when Elliott's roommate (Chase Sui Wonders) joins them  for an ill-fated threesome. Hoffman, the son of the late Phillip Seymour Hoffman, makes a perfect patsy as the screenplay by Araki and Karley Sciortino torches its way through an enjoyably outrageous comedy that Wilde, like her character, boldly commands. Great summer for Wilde, by the way. She also appears in The Invite, a movie she directed.

An academic faces oppression in Iran

    

   Collaborating on a screenplay with Marjorie David, Israeli director Eran Riklis tells a story of academic oppression in Iran, basing his movie on a best-selling memoir by Azar Nafisi.

     In 1979, Nafisi (Golshifteh Farahani) and her husband (Arash Marandi) returned to Iran. Ayatollah Khomeini had just come to power, and Nafisi  -- along with many other returnees -- leaned toward the notion that a newly liberated Iran offered opportunities for renewal. Nafisi wanted to teach Iranian university students and live in the country she loved, which she left as a teenager to continue her studies. 

      Hopeful about contributing, Nafisi met with disappointment. What followed her return was anything but a loosening of the tight jaws of oppression. Nafisi faced pushback about refusing to wear a head scarf and her attempts to teach openly and critically met with failure.

      After being forced to leave her university job, Nafisi began teaching classes privately to a small group of women who wanted to continue their studies. Eventually, the group got around to Nabokov's Lolita, a book which the hard-core religious rulers of Iran might deem as a perverse endorsement of pedophilia.

       The women share their views on books — Henry James' Daisy Miller, for example — but the story also deals with the problems Nafisi's students face as the regime continues to pervade daily life.  One student (Zar Amir Ebrahimi) is arrested and subjected to a forced virginity test after an arrest. She was also given  a 25-lash sentence. 

      The movie serves as a guide to the difficulties faced by educated women in Tehran, and a reminder of how oppressive regimes make their presence felt in education.

       Farahani captures Nafisi’s the increasing frustration that curdles the optimism and enthusiasm with which she had approached her return to Iran. 

       The main theme about the way oppression stifles artistic expression are clear, but the movie proceeds in programmatic fashion that seldom catches fire, and we’re left with a useful adaptation of a memoir that chronicles broken dreams and crushed hopes.

      

Tracking Christopher Nolan's 'Odyssey'

   You've already seen The Odyssey. You've probably seen it many times.  I'm not talking about filmed versions, one in 1954 and another in 1997. I'm talking about movies that -- knowingly or not -- have retold the Odyssey story, if not literally, then by mimicking its structure. 

    You know the drill. A valiant hero is separated from all that's familiar to him. He must overcome many obstacles to achieve a goal that resonates in movies as diverse as The Wizard of Oz and E.T. The hero wants to go home, home representing everything good, stable, and familiar. 

    Put another way, The Odyssey may date to the late 8th century BC, but it created one of the templates for storytellers that endures to this day. 

    Unless you've been living in isolation, you know that director Christopher Nolan has made his version of The Odyssey, opting to avoid literary flourishes that might have struck contemporary ears as unrecognizably florid. At one point, Telemachus, son of Odysseus, calls his mother "mom." I did a double take when I heard Odysseus referred to as "daddy."

    A bit strange, yes, but the heart of the movie involves an episodic account of the perils Odysseus faces on his return trip to Ithaca after the Trojan War.

    As you can guess, there isn't much smooth sailing in The Odyssey. Seas roil and blood is shed. Odysseus' adventures may remind younger viewers of horrors they've encountered in Marvel movies. In Nolan's hands, they serve as tests of Odysseus' character and cunning, with cunning sometimes trumping issues of character.  

     Looking grizzled and battle-worn, Matt Damon, as Odysseus, highlights Odysseus' internal conflicts. How many men must be sacrificed to save most of the loyal soldiers who accompany Odysseus on his journey home? Put another way, Odysseus  — the ultimate pragmatist — constantly wrestles with his conscience. 

    Odysseus’ journey pauses when he washes up on the shores of a secret island inhabited by Calypso (Charlize Theron), an immortal beauty who offers Odysseus a chance to live with her forever. 

     No, says Odysseus; he’d rather be mortal and return to his wife Penelope (Anne Hathaway). Embittered and lonely, Penelope has spent the last 20 years warding off freeloading suitors who have invaded Odysseus' home, notably the sly Antinous (a terrific Robert Pattinson).

    Nolan also adds many of the side characters that bring color to the epic story. Eumaeus (John Leguizamo), a blind swineherd, remains loyal to Odysseus throughout his long absence, demonstrating that virtue isn't necessarily confined to those of noble birth.

      All of this plays against a counter story. Telemachus (Tom Holland) leaves home to find the father he doesn't know, although his trip isn't quite as fraught as his father's.

     Nolan presents a narratively complex story in segments, some of which merge easily and others which can make the movie seem a bit discombobulated, particularly at the outset.

   Sometimes, Nolan hurls us into some of the movie's  episodes without build-up, but he brings the story's bits and pieces together in the movie's finale, arguably the best and most commanding part of this gargantuan effort.

    In one of the movie's more engaging episodes, Odysseus encounters Circe (a compelling Samantha Morton), a witch who can turn men into animals, thus exposing what she regards as their essential natures.

     Then there's Menelaus (a strong Jon Bernthal) and his wife Helen (Lupita Nyong'o), both of whom Telemachus visits in hopes of learning his father’s whereabouts. Zendaya turns up as Athena, the goddess who appears to Odysseus, sometimes as a reminder of the pain he has inflicted on others.

       As he customarily does, Nolan minimizes the use of special effects. I’ve read that the fearsome Cyclops was created with a mixture of puppetry, animatronics, and a performance by Bill Irwin. An enormous Trojan horse was built to lay the groundwork for one of the movie's most powerful scenes. A chastened Odysseus witnesses the carnage wrought when he deceived the Trojans, entered Troy, and conquered the city. 

    With victory comes horror and remorse, a twist that might be dubbed "the agony of victory." 

      The Odyssey is worth seeing, but I wasn't swept away by a film that seems targeted for greatness, an A-list production in front of and behind the camera.

     Cinematographer Hoyte van Hoytema keeps early scenes dark, simulating the look of candlelit interiors. He often presses his camera close to faces, presumably to bring intimacy to the proceedings.

       Production designer Ruth De Jong opts for naturalism rather than period-piece cliche, and Ludwig Goransson's score pumps adrenaline into clangorous depictions of battle, perhaps trying to replicate the thudding rhythms with which Homer’s poetry originally was delivered. 

        A masterwork with ample amounts of blood and gore, the story retains much of its power, even if some of its monsters seem more related to the era of Ray Harryhausen’s artifice (1963's Jason and the Argonauts) than contemporary visual pyrotechnics. 

     Nolan sustains a clear vision, coaxes out several memorable performances, and hits home when it counts, but I was expecting something more encompassing; I wanted a movie in which I could get lost, and got a movie that I tracked with interest.

   Ah, the cyclops. Ah, the whirlpool. Yes, there's Odysseus tied to a ship's past because he insists on hearing the irresistible siren song that could cause him to leap overboard and face certain death.

   The movie seemed best when it didn't feel like a checklist of Odyssey high points bolstered by a strong cast and a commitment to imagery. The Odyssey was filmed with 70mm IMAX cameras that beautifully capture the sandy expanse of beaches and the imposing emptiness of seas at sunset. The Odyssey may not be consistently compelling, but in the stillness of those moments, Nolan writes poetry of his own.

Scams inside a senior living facility

  

   

   Night Nurse takes place inside a high-end assisted living facility where some residents have a nurse with them at all times -- one serving during the day and another at night. Many of the residents suffer from dementia. 

    From the outset, director Georgia Bernstein makes it clear that she's not interested in exposing elder-care abuse. Heavy on atmospherics, Night Nurse embarks on a study of how care-giving relationships can be tainted by perversity and exploitation.

   Bernstein begins by introducing Eleni (Cemre Paksoy), a young nurse who's being interviewed for a job by the residential community's director (Mimi Rogers). Despite a shaky interview, Paksoy's Eleni lands the job as night nurse for Douglas Callum (Bruce McKenzie), a crank who's recognized as one of the facility's more difficult patients.

    Douglas's day nurse (Eleonore Hendricks) tries to clue the newbie into the ways of the place, which -- as we'll discover -- become increasingly weird.

    Douglas may not be as deep into Alzheimer's as it seems. It doesn't take long for Douglas, who makes sexual advances toward Elena, to enlist her help in a scheme. She's asked to call other residents and pretend to be a granddaughter who has been arrested after an auto accident. Douglas then gets on the phone, poses as the girl's lawyer, and asks that money be sent at once.

     The scam works, and Eleni starts to crave the illicit charge provided by the fraud. Her desires are pitted against those Douglas displays or withholds.

      Still, as played by Paksoy, Eleni is difficult to read. She's kinky in complex ways that aren't easily understood because there's something guarded and protected about her. 

      It's not easy to predict where this self-contained movie might be headed or what it wants to say. Described as a "psychosexual thriller," the movie comes up short on at least half of that description, notably the "thriller" part. 

     Bernstein hints at themes involving the nurses' desire to be needed and how a willingness to care for someone can be distorted into something destructive. Beyond that, there are questions about who possesses the most power as the relationship seesaw tips this way or that.

      Those are interesting ideas to explore, but they're also difficult to contain in a film that doesn't have much of a story to tell. Night Nurse feels as if it's unfolding in a limbo where the mystery of it all can feel listless, as if the characters are living in a trance state in which the film imprisons them.

Scattered laughs in 'Sex Pass'

    

    Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass brings a slapdash quality to a comedy that opts for a glut of gags that bob on a sea of silliness. Director David Wain (Wet Hot American Summer) delivers a preposterous story, unremitting goofiness, and a disregard for credibility, driving his movie to zany extremes. 

     There's something refreshing about a movie without pretensions, but the problem with a scattershot approach to  comedy is that the laughs can be scattershot, as well. Wain and his writing partner, Ken Marino, open a mixed bag of jokes and spill them across an uneven 93 minutes.

     Zoey Deutch stars as a small-town Kansas hairdresser who's engaged to her high school sweetheart (Michael Cassidy). Enter the sex pass of the title.

     In a conversation neither seems to take seriously, Deutch’s Gail and Cassidy’s Tom give each other permission to sleep with the celebrity of their choice. No judgments will be made. No one will harbor grudges. Each of them will allow the other an infidelity one-off. 

     When Cassidy's Tom makes an improbable connection with Jennifer Aniston, who arrives in Kansas for a book signing, Gail decides the only way she can save her looming marriage is by having sex with her chosen celebrity, Jon Hamm. Balance matters.

      As luck (or contrivance) would have it, Gail has an opportunity to attend a convention in Los Angeles, but she has more in mind than keeping up with the latest styles. She wants to sleep with Hamm as part of the ridiculous game she has played with her fiancé.

     Most of the movie takes place in Los Angeles, where Gail and her hairdressing colleague (Miles Gutierrez Riley) hook up with a lowly employee at the CAA talent agency (Ben Wang), a down-on-his-luck photographer (Marino), and John Slattery, the actor who worked with Hamm on Mad Men but who -- at least in the movie -- has fallen on hard times.

       A plot of sorts emerges. Thanks to the swap of  lookalike suitcases at LAX, Gail winds up in possession of plans drawn up by a conspiracy to tank the global economy. Joe Lo Truglio and Mather Zickel are the dumber-than-dirt henchmen who work for the plan's mastermind (Sabrina Impecciatore), who wants her documents returned.

        No sense pointing out more. Know, though, that Deutch makes an excellent plucky innocent who smiles her way through a showbiz world that might intimidate others. Some of the dialogue is funny, and Wain even finds a way to take a poke at big-screen violence with a gun-heavy scene set on an abandoned Western movie set.

       Initially appalled by the group, Slattery eventually buys in, and Wang delivers a flurry of amusing high-speed dialogue as an aspiring agent.

       I haven't mentioned that Fred Melamed plays a mailman, who functions as the move's occasional narrator. Off-kilter celebrity cameos are sprinkled throughout. Aided by ample portions of slapstick, a game cast dishes out non-stop silliness that finds a way to introduce a hot-air balloon into its finale.

  And, by the way, if you try this one, forget taste. Wain and his team mount an assault on decorum along with everything else -- and there's a whole lot of everything else.