Category: Drama

Sing Sing and the Redemptive Imagination

“Stories of the sort I am describing are like that visit to the deck. They cool us….Hence the uneasiness which they arouse in those who, for whatever reason, wish to keep us wholly imprisoned in the immediate conflict. That perhaps is why people are so ready with the charge of ‘escape.’ I never fully understood it till my friend Professor Tolkien asked me the very simple question, ‘What class of men would you expect to be most preoccupied with, and most hostile to, the idea of escape?’ and gave the obvious answer: jailers.” –C.S Lewis

“Why should a man be scorned if, finding himself in prison, he tries to get out and go home? Or if he cannot do so, he thinks and talks about other topics than jailers and prison-walls?” – J.R.R Tolkien

At Sing Sing maximum security prison, there is a theater program.

Initially created because of the psychological and social benefits of participation in the arts, the program grew from just a nice initiative to something much deeper and profound for the participating inmates. 

In their cells, they plead their case for clemency and parole and sweat in the summer heat. On stage, they fight battles and win noble wars. In the yard, they keep their heads low, avoiding the ire of guards. On stage, they recite soliloquies written for kings and wear robes and crowns. In Sing Sing, they are men defined by the past. On stage, they are whomever they want to be. 

For Divine G (Colman Domingo), an innocent man who has been wrongly imprisoned, the program is a lifeline. 

Sing Sing is a narrative film, but is based on the true Rehabilitation Through the Arts theater program that began at Sing Sing and is now in several New York prisons. The movie even centers on a real play that was written and put on in the program. Domingo plays a real man, John “Divine G” Whitfield, who cameos in the film. The majority of the ensemble cast are also formerly incarcerated actors, many of whom are alumni of this exact program.

The film has to walk a very thin tightrope. It would be easy for this to be an unholy mashup of Shawshank Redemption and Theater Camp and become saccharine and cliche. To the cynical viewer, there may be moments when the film misses the mark and becomes a bit cheesy or softens the edges of its characters and their circumstances. But I personally think Sing Sing earns its powerful moments of catharsis, primarily through restrained filmmaking and an extraordinary performance by Colman Domingo (let this be the rallying cry of his Oscar campaign!). This movie has moments that allude to the horrific injustices of our penal system. But it is not ultimately about the justice system or the details of life in prison. If that’s what you’re looking for, it’ll disappoint. Instead, the film’s main focus clearly is, first, showing the dignity and personhood of these men, and second, how art is a beautiful and necessary means for building hope, dignity, and imagination. 

As a Christian, while watching the film and observing these themes, I couldn’t help but reflect on the concept of Redemptive Imagination. I don’t think I’ve seen a movie that illustrates the concept as perfectly as this one.

What is Redemptive Imagination? It is an imagination which is being redeemed through the work of the Holy Spirit. Whether you think of yourself as creative or not, everyone has an imagination that is constantly at work. We use our imaginations, yes, for artistic endeavors, like writing, creating visual art, making music, and much more. But we also use them to anticipate scenarios and situations we may encounter. Imagination feeds our anxieties, but also can stir in us bravery, passion, love, and action. Our imaginations and memories are entangled in a dance of fact and fiction. Our imaginations fill in the gaps created by the mysteries and uncertainties of our lives. Imagination is not a fleeting fancy, useless daydreaming that only the idle enjoy. Our imaginations have a serious, material impact on our day-to-day lives. Used well, our imagination builds greater realities. Used poorly, it destroys. But it is always being used. What takes up the most space in your imagination is the greatest indicator of what you love the most. 

Being a Christian means I have signed my allegiance over to God, but that’s just the beginning. I call Christ my Savior, but my heart, mind, and body continually rebel against what I know God wants for me. I am a person divided– both sinner and saint. As Paul writes in Romans, “For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate… For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out” (7:15,18). I am forgiven and loved by God, justified by the blood of Christ. That can never be taken from me. But now the work of the Holy Spirit is sanctification, the process of forming me more and more into the likeness of Christ, restoring me to full personhood, where my soul and my flesh will not be divided and at war anymore.

If my imagination is the war room in which the deepest passions of my heart are created, revealed, and acted upon, is that not the best place for the Holy Spirit to invade? If He can influence my imagination, then so much of me– my creative urges, my ambitions and dreams, my worldview and interpretations of circumstances– will be brought under His power. My imagination is, after all, a beautiful gift from God, first used in Eden by Adam to name the animals. It is a gift that has been led astray, but now can be transformed back to its original glory.

So what does a redeemed imagination in action look like? Here are some examples.

The tension of living as a sinner-saint is often exhausting. I swing from feeling like I am God’s gift to humanity, to feeling inhuman and unworthy of anything. On my pharisaical days, my redeemed imagination reminds me of Jesus, and his example humbles me and reminds me of how I need Him so desperately. On days when I feel the crushing weight of my sin and weakness, my redemptive imagination reminds me that God is making me into a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:17), and even angels long to understand His love and redemptive plan for me (1 Peter 1:12). 

When my fellow church member annoys me. My regular imagination decides there is ill will behind their awkwardness and eccentricities. My imagination makes excuses for me to avoid them, and see them as less than myself. But a redeemed imagination remembers they are also made in the image of God, an eternal being like myself. A redeemed imagination tries to picture what understandable, sympathetic reasons could make them act the way they do. A redeemed imagination makes me consider how I could treat them more tenderly and how I could picture us as members of the same family. 

A redemptive imagination helps me anticipate heaven with joy and excitement. It also helps me see with more clarity the important work to be done on Earth. Imagining what God is doing on Earth to bring about the Kingdom of Heaven helps me live more intentionally, but not put my ultimate hope in this world.

Finally, a redemptive imagination helps me see God’s invisible work all around me. Those repeated run-ins with my neighbor no longer look like a coincidence: What kind of relationships might God be calling me to foster with her? How do I love her better? The messy period of my life where everything went wrong and I was at my worst? That is not the end. With a redemptive imagination, I can begin to try to understand and believe– although maybe not fully, maybe not in this lifetime– that there is a bigger story at work that is redeeming these failures and sufferings. 

We participate in the work of crafting our imaginations every day. The media we consume dramatically informs our imagination. The stories we tell about ourselves and others reveal the narrative scripts we believe we are living out (Am I the hero here? Am I a victim? Is this a comedy? Is it a tragedy?). Our daily work, where we live, our cultural moment, our hobbies and interests, and so many more influences, are always informing our imagination. 

In Sing Sing, the theater program is a place where the inmates cultivate a redemptive imagination for their lives. Some ways this happens in the film:

A character refers to Divine G as the n-word. Divine G stops him, telling him that here, they don’t use that word. Instead, they call each other “Beloved.” Throughout the movie, the men refer to each other as Beloved. Their imaginations have changed. They are beholding one another more deeply and profoundly. It is a world that uses the n-word that is out of touch with the truth. Their redeemed imaginations allow them to actually see reality: that every person is, indeed, Beloved.

Divine G allows another man, Divine Eye (played by Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin, playing a version of himself) to join the theater program. Divine Eye is a rough character, coming in with a big attitude and aggression that threatens to hurt the hard-won sanctity of the program. But Divine G sees artistry in Divine Eye, the potential for tenderness and talent and beauty that Divine Eye can’t even see in himself yet. And over the course of the film, being a part of the program does bring that out of Divine Eye. What made Divine G take a chance on Divine Eye? A redeemed imagination. 

When he joins the program, Divine Eye suggests the troupe perform, for the first time, a comedy. So they write a comedy– a time-jumping, hilariously idiosyncratic, imaginative play that includes Egyptian pharaohs, gladiators, cowboys, Freddie Kruger, Hamlet, and more. These men are in prison. Many will never be released or go home again. They will be forgotten. Their stories seem tragic. But in this exercise of imagination, they turn themselves into the heroes of a comedy. They act out, in essence, the idea that my life may look like a tragedy, but that’s not the whole story.

In church, when we sing hymns, I rarely feel all the words. When we sing “It is well with my soul,” in the moment, I almost never feel like it is well with my soul. But I sing those words not as some kind of lie, but to live into them. I am using my imagination to identify with something that is perhaps not yet true about me, but will be with the work of the Holy Spirit. My imagination clings to these words and my identity begins to take shape around them, because the passions of my heart now have something to be affixed to. When the inmates in Sing Sing play these roles, they are living into what is not yet true about themselves, but one day, will be. They are not heroic, victorious figures. And they are not free yet. But one day they will be. Maybe not on this side of heaven. But their story is ultimately a comedy, not a tragedy, because one day, we will all be free and home again.

Not everyone is made for community theater, but we are all artists. Whether your medium is the stage, the written word, the canvas, the home, the spreadsheet, the office building, the city, the church, the school, the hospital, the friendship, the family, the neighborhood, and everything and anywhere in-between, our imaginations are at work. Whether we are inmates at Sing Sing or live lives of freedom and comfort, we are all, with Creation, waiting to “be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” (Roman 8:21). As we await that ultimate emancipation, we use our imaginations to hold tightly to this deeper reality.

-Madeleine D.

Thelma

They say aging isn’t for the faint of heart.

93-year-old Thelma Post (June Squibb) knows that all too well. Her days are spent trying to placate her anxious and overbearing daughter and son-and-law (Parker Posey and Clark Gregg), assuring them of her ability to stay independent and live in her own house. Her grandson Danny (Fred Hechinger) worries about her as well, but he’s also a kindred spirit. At 24 and struggling to find a job or purpose, he too feels the weight of his parent’s concerns that he’s unable to do anything for himself. 

When Thelma is tricked by a phone scammer out of $10,000, she’s embarrassed, and her family worries she might be losing it. But Thelma, inspired by movies like Mission Impossible, hatches a scheme to go get the money back. 

Turns out being an action hero isn’t for the faint of heart, either.

I’ll just go out and say it: this is my favorite film of 2024 so far. No reason to beat around the bush. Thelma is an absolute delight from start to finish, and I think you should see it. 

June Squibb carries the film effortlessly. It is wonderful (and infuriating) that she gets this kind of a lead role for the first time in her 90s. Thelma is multidimensional: funny without being the joke, stubborn without being a caricature, grandmotherly while still feeling distinct. We rarely get to see wrinkles on the big screen, let alone have a main character who is elderly (and is allowed to look her age), and even less so who are protagonists, active agents in a story that embraces the complexities of aging while also telling a story beyond just that fact. 

Thelma is also an ode to intergenerational friendships, as Danny and Thelma’s bond is the emotional core of the film. They graciously learn from each other and push each other in ways that are so much more interesting than the stereotypical “old people need help with technology and young people need common sense!” (although there is certainly a bit of that). They both feel trapped and overly-coddled. They both are navigating an increasingly hostile world. Could this movie singlehandedly repair the rift that “Ok, Boomer” has created between the Greatest Generation and Gen Z? (Probably not, but one can dream!) I was very impressed with Fred Hechinger’s performance, as he is able to play out Danny’s character arc without ever drawing attention away from Squibb, and plays off of all of the adult actors beautifully. 

The other great dynamic of the film (although Posey and Gregg are definitely a close runner-up) is between Thelma and Ben (Richard Roundtree), an old friend that Thelma’s not even particularly fond of, until she needs to steal his motorscooter for her quest. He ends up accompanying her, and they develop a witty-yet-tender rapport. This was Roundtree’s last performance, following his death last year, and it’s a role he performs with fitting nobility and gravitas. 

Beyond the performances and story, the other best thing about Thelma is how the movie plays with action movie cliches in ways that I don’t want to spoil, but I’ll say that they are all very clever, and it is rewarding whether you enjoy that genre and catch all the jokes or not. These moments never turn the movie into a parody or spoof, they just add some nice texture and pizzazz. 

Thelma is funny, a tight 90-minutes, has a phenomenal ensemble, and offers thoughtful reflections on aging and family. You won’t want to miss it. 

-Madeleine D.

Offering an Interpretation of Paul Schrader’s “Master Gardener”

This year, Paul Schrader, best known for his collaborations with Martin Scorcese, particularly as the screenwriter of Taxi Driver, released the final film in his unofficial “Man in a Room” trilogy. The trilogy began with 2017’s First Reformed, starring Ethan Hawke as a troubled pastor with a dark past, and was followed by 2021’s Card Counter, starring Oscar Isaac as a troubled poker player with a dark past. Now he ends this evocative series with this film, starring Joel Edgerton as a troubled gardener… with a dark past. The trilogy is remarkably consistent in tone and themes, asking questions of guilt, shame, and redemption with an explicitly spiritual lens, often in a delightfully odd way (Schrader makes use of magical realism, and has a knack for putting together unusual ensembles that somehow work).

But, as the twenty people who actually saw Master Gardener will certainly attest to, I think this is one of the most confounding, maddening films in recent memory. Yet, after discussion with friends and some thought, I am here to propose an interpretation of the film. Is this what Paul Schrader was going for? I honestly can’t say. But here we go:

I think Master Gardener offers an allegorical take on the Gospel, where Narvel (Edgerton) represents mankind, Norma (Sigourney Weaver) represents the world/the devil, and Maya (Quintessa Swindell) represents Christ (or maybe more broadly, God’s mercy).

When the movie begins, Narvel is a lonely man with a secret: He was once a white nationalist and has white supremacist tattoos covering his body. He eventually reformed his ways and became an informant, entering witness protection and taking a job as a head gardener at an estate owned by a wealthy woman, Norma. Narvel spends his days toiling in the garden, and seeking redemption through creating life, instead of ending it.

We soon learn, quite surprisingly, that Norma and Narvel are in a special relationship, with Narvel basically being Norma’s kept man, which he seems stoically resigned to. After all, she did give him a job when he was at his lowest. But despite giving him this second chance, Norma never lets Narvel forget his past. She holds his past over him as a weapon. In a scene when Norma takes Narvel to bed, she makes him take off his shirt so she can see his tattoos, obviously relishing them. Narvel lives in an in-between state, where he is technically no longer tied to his past, but is still in every meaningful way still held captive by it.

The image of a garden is a deeply significant one in the Bible. Genesis recounts the story of creation, where God creates man and woman and places them in a garden, Eden. He instructs them to be stewards of the garden. But when Adam and Eve eat the forbidden fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, God casts them out of the garden. The whole rest of the Bible is, in essence, the story of God restoring his people back to the garden, back to the place where they are in perfect communion with him, and sin is no more. 

In Master Gardener, Norma’s estate is beautiful, but as we see Narvel’s life, it is far from bucolic. Like how Satan is described as the ruler of this world (the “prince of the power of the air” in Ephesians 2:2), Norma rules over the broken garden and tortures Narvel by offering cheap imitations of grace and forgiveness while never really giving them to him, and keeping him locked in reminders of his deepest shame. 

But then enters Maya, Norma’s newly orphaned grandniece, who is Black. Norma instructs Narvel to take Maya under his wing and teach her about the gardens. Soon, Narvel and Maya fall in love. Norma finds out, and in jealousy, casts them out of the garden.

Maya and Narvel hit the road together, and soon Maya discovers Narvel’s white supremacist tattoos. While she is at first angry and betrayed, within what seems to be only a day, she reconciles with Narvel, he agrees to get them removed, and they consummate their relationship. They then go and find some drug dealers who had assaulted Maya and vandalized Norma’s gardens, and Narvel breaks their kneecaps (this is a Paul Shrader film, after all).

After their revenge mission, they return to the estate, and Narvel confronts Norma, telling her that he and Maya are getting married and will be living on the estate. Norma doesn’t take this well and tries to shoot Narvel, but the gun doesn’t have any bullets. The movie ends with a long shot of Maya and Narvel dancing on the porch of their new home in the gardens. 

This movie is so weird!!!

So, Maya is clearly a force for redemption in Narvel’s life. Her acceptance and forgiveness of Narvel’s racist past, her love for him and her belief in his ability to change are all what he has been seeking all along. This is truly the second chance he wanted, that Norma only provided a dim illusion of. This, the Bible teaches, is the kind of love Christ offers us. Paul writes that “You were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked…But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us…made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved” (Ephesians 2:1-4). Maya wants Narvel to remove his tattoos to show that he is a new person and is no longer captive to the sinful, evil ideology he once held. Likewise, Christ loves us too much to let us stay captive in our sins. But he first loves us without condition, and only his love can lead to real change. 

Paul Schrader is, famously, well-versed in a Christian worldview, and had a Calvinist upbringing. There are unmistakable religious themes explicit throughout his work, and Calvinist ones, particularly in this trilogy. A key component of Calvinist theology is the idea of “Unconditional Election” which means people do not choose God first; God first chooses to save them. It interprets Paul’s word as us being “dead in trespasses and sins,” as meaning that in our natural sinful state we would never choose God on our own. Instead, God chooses people to save and moves their hearts to accept him. It is absolutely unconditional on the part of the believer.

In the movie, we are to assume Narvel regrets his past (he became an informant and left it behind, after all). But he is not particularly repentant nor does he directly ask for Maya’s forgiveness. But Maya offers her mercy quickly, without his initiation. The way this plays in the movie feels rushed and sloppy. But if you read it through this spiritual lens, this feels in line with the Calvinist framework for viewing salvation.

At the end, Maya and Narvel, now married, return to the gardens. The Bible ends with a marriage as well. In Revelation, the final book of the Bible that contains a vision of the end times, ends on the Marriage Feast of the Lamb, the marriage of Christ and his Bride, which is the Church (Ephesians 5:25-27; Revelation 19:7-9, 21:1-2, and 21:9-10). In these final days, Christ, united with the church, will complete the full restoration of the world, vanquishing all evil, making all things new, bringing Heaven to Earth, and completing God’s great quest– to dwell with his people (21:3-4). So too do Narvel and Maya, through the fullness of their love, return to the gardens, now as agents of restoration, bringing life to the estate.  

This presents a fascinating bookend to the environmental questions raised in First Reformed. In First Reformed, Pastor Ernst Toller spirals into an existential question regarding if God can forgive humankind for its destruction of the environment. His despair leads him to plan to suicide bomb his church while business leaders who run a polluting factory are in it. But his bombing attempt is stopped by a woman named Mary, who is pregnant. I interpret this as Mary being an embodiment of hope, with her clear connection to the Virgin Mary bearing Jesus. Toller is saved by a radical act of grace and is offered hope. It doesn’t necessarily quell all of his fears, but it protects him from the ultimate act of despair. The film ends on this note of ambiguity. Toller is saved, but for how long? And what of the rest of creation? In Master Gardener, Paul Schrader offers up a surprisingly optimistic suggestion: perhaps divine love is the solution.

Now, I will be the first to admit that this reading of the film as a hyper-allegory doesn’t fully work, nor do I have any confidence this is what Schrader intended. There are massive holes in this interpretation. For example, if Maya and Narvel are like Christ and the Church, it’s kinda strange that their journey includes busting the kneecaps of some drug dealers. But I guess you gotta fight for love? Likewise, Maya’s drug addiction doesn’t fit with a reading of her as a perfect embodiment of Christ and/or Mercy.

And none of this even touches on the offputting racial politics of the film, where a young Black woman forgives and somewhat “saves” a former white supremacist. The fact that it all just comes down to romantic love is… well it’s audacious.

But so is grace. 

I certainly don’t think Master Gardener is the pinnacle of thoughtful movies about race, and I don’t think it is the only Christian response to questions about racial forgiveness and reconciliation. If this were truly a movie about moving on from white supremacy in an interracial relationship, I think it fails at any kind of nuance. But, Schrader, I believe, is intentionally using a situation that most audiences would find unforgivable–white supremacy– to make us squirm at the radical implications of the Christian doctrine of grace (and Schrader essentially admits that in this interview, saying the movie “isn’t about racism or gardening”). Norma calls Narvel and Maya’s relationship “obscene,” and it’s true- that level of grace is obscene. It’s offensive to us. That is why the Gospel is, at first, painful, because it assaults our pride and our understanding of conditional, earned love.

But this also points to some of the deep frustrations I have with the movie. Norma doesn’t just refer to the grace of the relationship as obscene, Norma also refers to the relationship as obscene because it is between a middle-aged man and a barely-20-year-old, one where he was in a position of authority over her. It’s a deeply weird relationship that feels uncomfortable to watch on screen (and it’s not simply about an age gap, it’s more about how everything in the film, from the performances to the framing, makes the relationship feel like that of a father/daughter or mentor/mentee relationship, but the text is telling us its a romance). Why did Paul Schrader make Maya so much younger than Narvel, so Norma’s complaint that he’s “playing Hubert Humphrey in his own production of Lolita” actually feels valid? The question of the appropriateness of their relationship distracts and unnecessarily complicates what the relationship is trying to depict thematically. 

Likewise, other parts of the film feel disjointed, like Narvel and Maya’s little revenge plot. The plotting and pacing issues lead to a movie that is on the cusp of fascinating ideas, but never quite executes them, and has too many messy choices that I think hide the actually radical things Schrader might be saying. Because of all of this, I’m not sure what Paul Schrader was going for. But this film, and this trilogy especially, have made me think and feel, both ecstasy and irritation. And that’s what makes it special, and worth considering. 

– Madeleine D.

The Starling Girl & Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret 

If you’re interested in films about young women wrestling with religion and growing up, written and directed by women, that are currently in theaters, you are in the right place!  

First, The Starling Girl, written and directed by Laurel Parmet in her directorial debut, centers on Jem (Eliza Scanlen), a seventeen-year-old girl living in rural Kentucky in a fundamentalist Christian household. As things start to rapidly shift around her–her parents force her to begin courting a boy she doesn’t care about, her beloved dance troupe risks falling apart, and her dad has a depressive spiral–she finds refuge in her more worldly (and married) youth pastor Owen (Lewis Pullman), and they soon begin an affair. 

What struck me most about The Starling Girl is how authentic it feels. I did not grow up in a fundamentalist Christian household or a church like the one depicted here, but I did grow up in a small church, in a believing household, and I’m a Christian to this day and work in ministry to young adults. I’m well-versed in the way church people talk, the “Christanese” that can seem foreign to outsiders, and the way church social hierarchies and dynamics work. And, as a movie fan, I’m familiar with the ways movies that try to depict religion or these contexts often don’t understand them and create parody or caricature. But to Parmet’s credit, this film rings very true and is startlingly accurate in its language, its depiction of this kind of church, and the way religious communities often handle scandal. It does so without demonizing or villainizing the characters, instead giving nuance to all sides. It’s quietly observational, as much as a fictional film can be, and the point of the movie is to get you into Jem’s headspace and to understand her, not to make sweeping statements about Christianity or religious communities. 

Perhaps one of the biggest (possibly unintentional) accomplishments of the film is how, through Jem, we feel and understand what it is like to live under purity culture. “Purity culture” is a loaded term, but what I mean most simply by that is this: purity culture is a distinct set of values concerning sexuality, including modesty, ideas around marriage, and “proper” femininity (and masculinity). Some of these ideas come from the Bible, some don’t, and some take biblical principles and deeply distort them. 

 There are elements of purity culture throughout Christian history, but our modern idea of purity culture comes from a particular evangelical movement that peaked in the 1990s with books like Joshua Harris’s I Kissed Dating Goodbye, with particular community rituals and signifiers like purity rings and courtship. This movement was (and is) so prominent in American evangelicalism that even if you haven’t directly been a part of a church that taught purity culture, I don’t think any evangelical Christian today is untouched by those attitudes. And The Starling Girl depicts the worst outcomes of purity culture. Jem is constantly warned against leading men to sin, asked if she’s been overcome by Satan whenever she expresses desires, is pushed into a courtship with a boy she doesn’t know or like, and is completely unable to even acknowledge her budding sexuality without immediate condemnation or shame. And when the affair is found out, teenage Jem is publically humiliated and blamed, not Owen, the grown, married man in authority. 

Ultimately, the tragedy of The Starling Girl is the common issue of purity culture, which is that while everyone is so focused on Jem’s behavior, no one really cares about her heart. She is constantly policed and suffocated by people watching and correcting her every move and slip-up, anticipating a possible impure thought or attitude. But despite all this surveillance, no one actually tries to know Jem’s heart. They don’t see her carrying the weight of her family’s brokenness, or her love of dance and creativity and her desire for some honest self-expression, or her grappling with her sexuality. They want her to behave right but do not actually want to know her or meet her where she is. No wonder then when Owen comes and seems to actually care, even in small, shallow ways, about her thoughts and dreams, she’s drawn to him. And when managing the exposure of the affair, the adults in Jem’s life aren’t primarily concerned with whether she is wanting to be genuinely repentant and obedient to God. They’re concerned about how the affair looks and how it is seen in the church. No one wants to understand Jem’s reality, they just want her to act correctly. We see that illustrated pointedly in Jem’s family. Her mother makes her daughters hide her father’s relapse and depressive spiral in order to look good on the outside. That’s the tragedy and warning of The Startling Girl: how doctrine, when wielded as a weapon, is suffocating and destructive.  

While The Starling Girl is decidedly for older audiences (particularly fans of small, intimate character dramas), Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret (dir. Kelly Fremon Craig) is more of a crowd-pleaser for a younger audience. Margaret is the perfect movie (depending on maturity level) for a preteen girl, or if you grew up with the Judy Blume novel, or are a parent of a teenage girl (and if you are a parent of a teenage girl, also watch Eighth Grade!) 

Margaret is ultimately an optimistic look at puberty and a joyful portrayal of girlhood. It takes the characters and their struggles seriously, but has a light touch. It handles the book’s iconic (or infamous, to the many who have tried to censor it) scenes of Margaret (Abby Ryder Fortson) and her friend’s attempts to increase their bust, or get their periods, all in a funny way without making fun of the characters themselves. The film shows Margaret struggling with her body, sense of self, relationships, and views on religion, but her loving family and friends help her through it. 

A unique aspect of the film is the praying monologues we hear from Margaret as she tries to figure out her faith. In these prayers, we get a good picture of Margaret’s internal conception of God, of her spiritual inner life. We understand how she relates to God, even when she’s not sure he’s listening. She conceives of him as a real person, someone who is there, someone with whom she has a relationship. I found that very touching. It’s a story that doesn’t ultimately choose a side in Margaret’s dilemma of being Jewish like her father or Christian like her mother (or neither), but it does say that she is honestly speaking and praying to someone she thinks is real. Margaret’s prayers and inner dialogue are messy, but they’re earnest, and that’s a perfect encapsulation of the film. 

We rarely get movies about religion where a character’s spirituality is taken seriously. We get even fewer that aren’t either firmly with an evangelistic agenda or seeking to caricature and condemn. I think both of these films, in addition to being well crafted and having strong ensembles (Margaret especially has a wonderful young cast and a radiant Rachel McAdams), are thoughtful movies about faith that are worth seeing.

-Madeleine D.

Should I See Lamb?: A Question-Based Review of a Strange Film

What is Lamb?

Lamb is a 2021 Icelandic film from A24 (the studio behind, among many others, Hereditary, Minari, Lady Bird, Eighth Grade, and Ex Machina). It is directed by Valdimar Jóhannsson and stars Noomi Rapace and Hilmir Snær Guðnason. It is in Icelandic. It was released in October and is currently on premium video on demand.

What is Lamb about?

Lamb is about two farmers who discover a baby that is half-sheep, half-human. The couple begins to raise the creature as their own child, but strange occurrences threaten to tear the new family apart.

What genre is Lamb?

The film is a slow-paced drama with some horror elements. I’m a real wimp when it comes to horror movies, but I could handle Lamb, as it isn’t full of jump scares or gore. There are a few disturbing images, but the real horror comes from the tense atmosphere and disquieting premise. It’s quietly terrifying, leaving the bulk of the story’s implications up to the imagination. The anticipation of what could happen next is the scariest part. 

Does the movie have a good payoff?

I believe so. Now, this is a fable– this isn’t the kind of film to try to logically break down with “well how exactly did the sheep-baby come to be?” or “why don’t they act more surprised at discovering the sheep-baby?” It’s a metaphor and examination of grief. It’s fantasy-realism, so just go with it. I think the reveals in the film are 1) brilliantly understated so they’re even scarier, and 2) just enough to tease you into imagining something worse, and 3) never going the direction you imagine they’ll go, which makes them both satisfying and frustrating (in the best way). 

How’s the acting?

Noomi Rapace and Hilmir Snær Guðnason are absolutely mesmerizing. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. With barely any words you believe their characters have had a long history together and you understand their bond. Björn Hlynur Haraldsson, who comes in in the middle of the film to shake things up as an unwanted visitor and audience surrogate character, is also excellent, bringing an unsettling dynamic to the film. 

Will this make me want to be a farmer?

After seeing all the gorgeous landscapes, yes. After seeing the evil sheep? No.

Evil sheep?

Yeah, you heard me.

Will this movie make me feel weird about sheep?

Probably. If possible, I recommend restraining from interacting with sheep until at least 30 days after seeing this film. By then you should be okay. 

The real thing I’m scared of is subtitles. Will I like Lamb?

There’s not much dialogue, so there’s not much subtitle-reading required! However, if you need something fast-paced or talkative, you might struggle with Lamb. I saw this in theatres and was engrossed, but I know that if I had been watching it at home, I would have probably picked up my phone multiple times. I think Lamb is a rewarding watch, but it will definitely take more discipline and effort than most other movies require. 

Should I watch this with my kids or relatives?

No. Kids definitely would not enjoy it and would probably be scared by it, and it’s rated R for a sex scene with some female nudity, along with brief violence.  

Are there any valid critiques of Lamb?

Some have said the film is not substantive, just atmospheric, without any actual deeper messages. I disagree; I think the grief the characters experience is conveyed through the melancholy atmosphere and the ambiguity allows you to work through your own interpretations. It’s not a movie that is going to tell you anything; it invites you into an emotional experience. But I can understand the frustration some will have with that style. 

So…should I see Lamb?

If you want to see one of the wildest, most original films of the year, be deeply unsettled but oddly touched, and meditate on nature and grief, then yes. 

– Madeleine D. 

Award Hopefuls: Last Night in Soho, Passing, King Richard, and Spencer

Hello, friends! I’ve been on a little hiatus due to a big move and a new job, but I’ve still been watching movies and I want to recommend a few to you. Today we’ll take a look at a few Oscar-hopefuls, movies which have begun to generate award buzz and you might be seeing on some best of the year lists. But do they make my list? 

Last Night in Soho

2021 has been a big year for director Edgar Wright. In the summer, he released a documentary The Sparks Brothers, which got critical acclaim. This fall he released his newest fictional film, which is following up his biggest and most mainstream hit yet, 2017’s Baby Driver. Last Night in Soho is a thriller with homages to the Giallo Italian horror genre. It stars Thomasin McKenzie (incredible here, go see her work in Leave No Trace) as Elle, a young country girl who moves to London to study fashion and begins having dreams about Sandie (Anya Taylor-Joy), the woman who once lived in her room. The lives of the two women become entangled as the line between Elle’s visions and reality blur. 

There’s so much to admire about this film. It has Edgar Wright’s characteristic energetic cinematography, a perfect soundtrack, and great performances from the whole cast. While he is a director who can come dangerously close to style over substance (see Wes Anderson), here he is still quite stylized, but it all serves the story. His directing draws attention to the story, not to himself. 

And it is the story that impressed me most. I think Last Night in Soho could appropriately be compared to the likes of Roman Polanski’s Rosemary’s Baby or Jordan Peele’s Get Out as sociological horror. Like both of those films, Last Night uses conventions of the horror genre to explore real-life societal horrors. Get Out examined racism by putting a Black protagonist in a horror situation, and the story of Rosemary’s Baby explores abusive relationships, rape, the loss of bodily autonomy during pregnancy. Here, Last Night explores how young women can get trapped into sex work, and the broader rape culture we live in, seen through the eyes of its two female protagonists. The movie is also remarkable in the way it captures the feeling of being a young woman from a small town who has just moved into a seedy big city, and the paranoia that can come from this heightened danger. 

The ending is the only weak part of the film. I think to have a “gotcha!” ending, Wright sacrifices thematic consistency. I’ll speak broadly, as I don’t want to give anything away since I think it’s a movie best gone in without spoilers, but I think the ending undercuts both Sandie’s story and Elle. By trying to empower Sandie at the last minute, Elle’s agency is taken away and the tragedy of Sandie’s story is undercut. The film then ceases to be insightful about the way women are preyed on, and loses its critique of nostalgia, simply becoming a revenge story.

However, this ending doesn’t ruin the movie, and I still think it’s one of the best films of the year. I don’t think it will have a lot of award chances outside of costume design, original screenplay, and production design, but perhaps if it’s a weak year Wright might be able to snag a best director nod. 

Last Night in Soho is now on premium video on demand

Passing

Passing, adapted from the novel of the same name by Nella Larsen, is a gorgeous, measured piece of filmmaking, and an impressive directing debut by Rebecca Hall. The story centers on two Black women in 1920s New York City: Irene (Tessa Thompson), a demure and discontent mother and wife, and Clare (Ruth Negga), a mysterious and wild woman who has made her way through the world passing as white and is married to a white man who doesn’t know she’s Black. As Irene watches Clare leverage her ability to be both white and Black, Irene wrestles with feelings of jealousy, hatred, and repressed desires. 

I studied this novel extensively in college and loved it, so I was thrilled to see the way the film adapts the novel perfectly and teases out some of its subtexts. It is, most obviously, an insightful commentary on race and “whiteness.” It shows how race is a social creation– we assign meaning to each race and give it abundant shorthands to classify who does or does not belong to that group, regardless of actual heritage or skin color. But the novel is also about the burdens of motherhood, the limited options for women at the time, and class struggles, and it has enough implications to allow for a queer reading. The film doesn’t bring this queer subtext to the forefront or commit to it, but it allows it to be present and ambiguous, mostly through the work of the actors. 

Speaking of the actors, Tessa Thompson and Ruth Negga are both excellent. Thompson gets to play a much more restrained character than she is often asked to play in her bigger films, and Negga is able to be both naively waifish and quietly sinister. 

At a tight 90 minutes, there’s not a wasted moment in this film. If you’re ready to enjoy a meditative drama and perfect performances, please watch Passing. While the Academy has a fraught relationship with Netflix films, I would love to see it get nominations for directing, supporting for Negga, and cinematography.  

Passing is now on Netflix

King Richard

King Richard, which tells the story of tennis superstars Venus and Serena Williams’ rise through the coaching of their father Richard (Will Smith), hits all the beats of a classic, feel-good sports film. But there are enough twists and unique angles to make it stand apart. 

First and foremost, this is a star vehicle for Will Smith. This is the perfect role for him, an amalgamation of all of his strengths as a star and a capstone on his career. The role requires his comedic chops, underrated dramatic skills, overflowing charisma, and ability to be unlikeable without ever actually being unlikeable. He’s going to get plenty of due awards praise, but this is also an excellent ensemble film, so don’t sleep on Aunjanue Ellis as mother Brandi Williams, who is excellent here, and both Saniyya Sidney and Demi Singleton (Venus and Serena, respectively). It’s a movie of powerhouse performances and everyone pulls his or her own weight. 

Critic Grace Randolph points out in her review of the film that King Richard can be seen as an inverse to 2009’s The Blind Side, which won Sandra Bullock a best actress Oscar and was nominated for Best Picture. The Blind Side has been criticized for upholding a white savior narrative, where the white Tuohy family saves and uplifts Michael Oher. In King Richard, the Williams family is celebrated for uplifting themselves. This narrative (awarding King Richard can help atone for the ignorance of the Academy in awarding The Blind Side) could help its award chances, but it is also simply a major appeal of the film. The Williams family is shown as a tight-knit family that loves one another and fights for dignity despite challenges thrown at them. It’s rightly inspiring and sweet (even though the reality is more complicated). In addition, it’s nice to see a movie focusing on the relationship between fathers and daughters. 

Because of the focus on fathers and daughters, while watching, I thought of the film Infinitely Polar Bear, based on director Maya Forbes’s own father Cam (played by Mark Ruffalo). Cam is much like Richard Williams- a charismatic, passionate, artistic man who wants to give his children the world but has a host of personal flaws and failings in the way. But throughout Infinitely Polar Bear there is the sense Forbes is holding back, and never quite telling the full truth about her father. Even in his worst moments, the movie seems to never fully acknowledge the pain his actions must have caused.

It is the same with King Richard. It is wonderful Venus and Serena, who executive produce here and were heavily involved with the filmmaking, clearly love and respect their dad and want to pay tribute to him. But their protection of him means that whenever the film is trying to be honest about the negative parts of Richard, it always pulls back from being too real. But this is a common issue in biopics, not at all original to King Richard. Perhaps it is unfair to judge a movie too harshly for what it doesn’t do, rather than what it does. And what it does do is give us a well-made, winning story about family, personal dignity, and triumph.

King Richard is in theaters and is streaming on HBO Max

Spencer

A warning: Spencer is not a biography of Princess Diana. Do not expect, like I did, to come out with new knowledge and insight into Diana or her life or the royal family. Instead, Spencer is a surreal dark fairy tale, with fable logic, which imagines the Christmas before Diana and Charles’s divorce. Spencer is primarily interested in exploring the possible emotional life of the Princess, often using elements of psychological horror and dreamlike sequences to capture her depression and mounting frustration.

Here, Diana is a tortured gothic heroine, roaming mansions and the moors in her nightgown, talking to ghosts and envisioning and predicting her own demise, her moments in the real world detached and unsteady, her body and mind falling apart at the seams. You spend the movie entrenched in Diana’s perspective of feeling trapped, like a mouse in a labyrinth, searching for a way out. I felt this acutely throughout the movie, and then even more so when I left the film and spent thirty minutes wandering lost in a parking garage. 

Kristen Stewart, as we have discovered in her post-Twilight days, is a talented actress in the right role, and this is the right role. Her portrayal of Princess Diana wouldn’t make sense if superimposed onto any other project about Diana, but here she carries the movie’s vision with her shuddered, nervous physicality, some of the best hand acting I’ve ever seen, and an undercurrent of fierce fortitude. 

I don’t think you will remember Spencer for its plot or the whole of the movie, but a few specific images and sequences have lingered in my mind. If you go in with the correct expectations and enjoy moody dramas, then I think you’ll appreciate Spencer. Overall, I don’t see the film having many Oscar chances outside of a best actress nomination and costume design, but depending on its award campaign it could be a dark horse contender for best picture. 

Spencer is in theaters and on premium video on demand

– Madeleine D.

August Round-Up: Jungle Cruise, The Suicide Squad, and CODA

Jungle Cruise

Linda Cook review: 'Jungle Cruise' is worth the trip | OurQuadCities

*Technically* this came out at the end of July but I’m roping it in here. I was unabashedly excited for Jungle Cruise. With my vaccine, mask, and uncrowded theater, I was ready to get back to the big screen and set to like this movie (the film is also on Disney+ with premier access). I love fun adventure movies like Pirates of the Caribbean, National Treasure, and Tomb Raider. I’m as charmed by Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson and Emily Blunt as the rest of America. I love Jesse Plemons playing unhinged weirdos. And I firmly believe the addition of a boat makes any movie better. 

Jungle Cruise delivers all of these elements. None of these elements are played up to their fullest potential, but they’re all there. The movie has a big, dumb, mad-libs-style plot that you don’t need to pay close attention to because, in the end, the real Amazonian magic healing flower is the friends we made along the way. The action sequences are exciting and make great use of the setting, even though there is an over-reliance on CGI. Johnson and Blunt are charismatic enough to make you believe their overdone, stale, bantering dynamic, and while I could always use more, Plemons does get to be weird and great in the role of the villainous Prince Joachim. The jungle cruise boat itself is well utilized and fully realized. 

Jungle Cruise gives you exactly what it promises, and absolutely nothing more. It’s not going to be remembered as being as inventive as the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise (when it first started), or as beloved as The Mummy, or as ridiculous fun as National Treasure. It’s like much of Dwayne Johnson’s career– sturdy, reliable, earnest, get the job done. It’s a fine time at the movies. But I can’t help but wish it had been a little more.

The Suicide Squad

The Suicide Squad movie review (2021) | Roger Ebert

The first Suicide Squad movie, directed by David Ayer and released in 2016, was almost universally disliked and critically panned. But the IP was too valuable to lose, and the film made $746 million at the box office, so how do you solve a problem like Suicide Squad? According to Warner Brothers and DC, you hire the recently fired (later rehired) Guardians of the Galaxy director James Gunn, change up the casting, make it unclear whether this is a sequel? Prequel? Reboot? and you try again, letting Gunn run with an R rating and promise a level of naughtiness and provocation that would maybe be edgy for a fifteen-year-old boy. 

I did not like The Suicide Squad, but I will admit that is probably more due to taste than the film itself. The Suicide Squad is stylistic, visually inventive, and the screenplay is actually coherent, which is an improvement on the 2016 film. It’s the work of an auteur and I admire that Gunn’s distinct vision is realized. For people who enjoy Gunn’s work and other movies in this vein, I think The Suicide Squad is worth seeing, and I’m always a proponent of superhero movies being experimental. 

Ultimately, I just dislike Gunn’s sensibilities as a filmmaker on display here. I didn’t think the excessive gore added anything to the story. I found the characters flat, with all attempts to humanize them undercut by their irredeemable and unexamined actions. The jokes and dialogue are unfunny, often because of their over-reliance on crudeness and shock-value. It just wasn’t for me, but that’s okay. It’s for some people, which, again, is a step-up from the first film, which was for no one. 

The Suicide Squad is in theaters and streaming on HBO Max.

CODA

CODA Trailer: Sian Heder's Sundance Sensation on Apple TV Plus | IndieWire

CODA, streaming now on Apple+, is being heralded as one of the best films of the year. But what makes this coming-of-age story so special? 

The story follows many tried-and-true story beats as it follows Ruby, a high school senior who spends her days working for her family’s flailing fishing business and trying to make it through all the normal mortifications of high school– bullying, being unnoticed by her crush, and trying out for choir. When Ruby’s choir teacher recognizes she has talent, he encourages her to audition for the Berklee College of Music. But Ruby’s family needs her at home, and they don’t fully appreciate her talent. Ruby struggles with identity and forming her own path. It’s pretty standard stuff. 

But there’s a twist to all of this. The reason why her family doesn’t appreciate her talent is because both of her parents and brother are deaf. Ruby is a CODA- child of deaf adults- and that’s also why they need her to stay and help out the business by interpreting for them. Ruby must decide between sacrificing her own dreams and her family’s needs. 

What is so special about CODA is that Ruby’s deaf family is not presented as a twist. The representation of deaf people and the way they navigate the world feels natural and lived-in. Each character is complex and has their own motivations and interior life. They aren’t a plot device, they are central to the story and the emotional core of the film. The tropes of coming-of-age stories here are made fresh by both the unique angle of framing it with deaf characters, which is a rarity on screen, but also by just how well these story beats are executed and the way they all crescendo to an emotionally satisfying ending. These reasons make CODA the best kind of heartwarming drama, and a must-watch for this year. 

-Madeleine D.

Judas and the Black Messiah

Judas and the Black Messiah is one of the most anticipated movies of 2021, and it doesn’t disappoint. Outstanding performances by Daniel Kaluuya (Get Out) and Lakeith Stanfield (Sorry To Bother You) ground the story of Bill O’Neal (Stanfield), an informant who infiltrated the Black Panther Party in Chicago and helped the FBI kill chairman Fred Hampton (Kaluuya) in 1969. 

As an alumnus of the Oklahoma educational system, I was never taught about the Black Panthers other than they were on the “wrong side” of the civil rights movement and were diametrically opposed to Martin Luther King Jr’s nonviolent approach. This, of course, not only neuters King, who was quite radical, but also ignores the complexities of the Black Panthers and erases the good they did.  

So I went into Judas and the Black Messiah knowing very little about anything. If you are more familiar and educated on this subject, you may find more things to take issue with, especially when it comes to Fred Hampton’s portrayal. As my first real introduction to the subject, though, I was riveted. The movie balances the politics and violence with tender moments which humanize Hampton to flesh out the story and create a three-dimensional look at this period in Hampton’s life and career. The story honors Hampton, but it does not completely heroize or villanize him and the Panthers. 

However, the film struggles between being a straight biopic of Hampton or an FBI crime movie, and caught in the middle is O’Neal, who as a result, is not fleshed out very well. O’Neal’s motivations as a character feel weak and under-baked, but Lakeith Stanfield mostly overcomes these problems with the script through his sheer charisma and expressiveness. And speaking of Stanfield, the best part of Judas and the Black Messiah are the performances, and all three leads are excellent. Daniel Kaluuya brings a feverish intensity and equal vulnerability to his role, and Jesse Plemons as an FBI agent continues to nail the role of creepy “nice” guy. Kaluuya and Stanfield have both been nominated for Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars, and I think either would be deserving of a win (although it makes more sense for Kaluuya to be in the Best Actor category). 

It’s hard not to speak of the film as being “timely” in light of the reignited national conversation about police brutality over last summer with the killing of George Floyd (and the upcoming trial of officer Derek Chauvin). Yet maybe the most effective part of the film is reminding us these events were not part of the distant past, a history we are repeating. Fred Hampton’s son and Hampton’s fiancée Deborah Johnson appear at the end of the movie. This was 52 years ago. It’s not the past, it’s the present that we continue to wrestle with. 


Judas and the Black Messiah is currently in theaters

-Madeleine D.

January and February Netflix Movies: The White Tiger, Malcolm & Marie, To All the Boys 3, and I Care a Lot

The White Tiger

The White Tiger, based on the 2008 book by Aravind Adiga, tells the story of Balram (Adarsh Gourav), a driver for a wealthy family in India who plots to escape his poverty and low-caste status. The White Tiger has been compared to Slumdog Millionaire, and it even references Slumdog Millionaire in the movie. The White Tiger poses itself as a corrective, a real look at India and the lower class, from a distinctly Indian gaze, not sanded down or whitewashed for Western audiences. Like 2019’s Best Picture winner Parasite, The White Tiger brings class politics and a story of poverty into sharp focus with a satirical bite. Balram wins our sympathy as we witness his abuse, yet his methods to free himself are deeply disturbing, but there are seemingly no other options for him. As he fashions himself into the kind of “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” entrepreneur that we all but worship in America, the movie becomes deeply unsettling. While the film doesn’t always perfectly balance the tone, the politics, and the commentary, it mostly succeeds, especially with Gourav’s performance. It’s worth the watch, even when it’s hard to swallow.

Malcolm & Marie

In Malcolm & Marie, starring John David Washington and Zendaya as the titular couple, Malcolm, a film director, has two lengthy monologues about critics- pointedly, at liberal white critics who try to impose a racial reading onto all films created by Black filmmakers. Malcolm reads one of these reviews of his film and eviscerates it. This puts me, as a critic, in an awkward position. The review Malcolm reads is a lot like the stuff I have written on this very blog. Or, at least, what I’ve wanted to write here, in an effort to imitate other reviewers I find to be thoughtful and insightful. 

As an aspiring critic, I found it fascinating and humbling to watch Malcolm & Marie. As a viewer, though, I’m not quite as sure of its appeal. It’s two hours of straight arguing, where Malcolm and Marie don’t so much embody people as they do warring ideological stances. At one point Marie calls Malcolm an “emotional terrorist,” and honestly, I feel a little terrorized watching these two people try to destroy each other in hateful words. It’s incredibly sad, and I can’t say if there is anything really redemptive about watching these arguments. But that’s my perspective as a single person; it may play differently to people in relationships. 

Malcolm & Marie has similarities to Locked Down. Both were made in quarantine, are about a troubled couple, and are very theatrical through their use of monologues and limited staging. Malcolm & Marie is better made and acted, but both are wearying to watch. 

To All The Boys: Always and Forever

Netflix’s juggernaut young adult romance series To All the Boys I Loved Before comes to a close with the third installment, Always and Forever. In it, our high school sweethearts Lara Jean (Lana Condor) and Peter Kavinsky (Noah Centineo) are seniors looking towards college and the future, and whether the other has any place in it. 

After three installments, the conflicts between Lara Jean and Peter can feel contrived. Even in its most hokey moments, though, Condor and Centineo’s chemistry elevates the material. But it’s all of the story elements outside of the romance in Always and Forever that make the film interesting and real. One of the subplots has Lara Jean’s father getting remarried, and Lara Jean struggles to be happy for him while also sad at the disappearing traces of her mom. The struggle to choose a college is all very real for high school seniors, as is the struggle to determine what is worth holding onto and what you have to let go of. Peter feels like going to college means abandoning his family, and when his absent father wants back into his life, Peter must wrestle with his anger towards him. There are pieces of nuance here that cut through an otherwise slightly-overcooked melodrama of a relationship that feels one miscommunication away from ending. However, I think fans of the series, or people who love rom-coms, will enjoy To All the Boys. But no matter how hard it tries, it can’t beat the classic movie it’s obviously based on: High School Musical 3. 

I Care a Lot

Like White Tiger, I Care a Lot desires to deliver a scathing commentary on capitalism through its ruthless antihero. Here Rosamund Pike plays Marla Grayson, a legal guardian for senior citizens. Marla is running a powerful scheme: she bribes medical professionals to identify rich elderly clients, then falsely report that the client is sick or otherwise unable to take care of themselves. Marla then swoops in and takes legal custody of them by sending the victim to a care facility and seizing hold of all of their assets and making bank. 

Inspired by real-life cases of elder abuse, this compelling premise makes for an excellent first act, which shows Marla enact her plot on the seemingly meek Jennifer Peterson (Dianne Weist). I was physically sickened watching Marla’s crimes. This first act offers observations into how Marla is able to get away with her scheme by using her privileges as a white woman, with her self-styled “girlboss” business-savvy, and how she is able to exploit bureaucracy and the indifference of the legal system. 

All of this promise, packaged into a fast-paced, stylish film, is lost in the second and third acts, which devolve into a mob-movie that tries to paint Marla as sympathetic and is simply not as unique as the film’s initial premise. I Care a Lot is an entertaining watch, but it doesn’t add up to anything. When it was over, all I felt was numb and disgusted. 

-Madeleine D.

Netflix Bundle- Over the Moon, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, and The Prom

Over the Moon

Over the Moon is a cute animated film about a young girl in China who believes in a traditional Chinese myth about a goddess who lives on the moon. When the girl’s father introduces her to her future stepmother, the girl builds a rocket to go to the moon goddess for help in breaking up the marriage. 

Over the Moon is best when it takes place on Earth, telling a tender story about grief and blended families. Once the characters get to the moon, the pacing becomes more frantic and the story more silly. Still, through it all, the animation is cartoonish but stylized, and the musical sequences are catchy. It’s the perfect choice for a family film, and I think will be entertaining for older viewers as well. 

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom is a lot like 2016’s Fences,beyond both being adaptations of August Wilson plays. Both star Viola Davis in mesmerizing performances. Fences was directed by and starred Denzel Washington, and Ma Rainey is produced by him. Both films never utilize the film medium enough to ever feel like anything other than a play, yet both are so incredibly acted and written it doesn’t really matter. Like Fences, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom delves deeply into the specifics of the Black American experience while still exploring universal emotions, even in a period piece. Here, it depicts the struggle of trailblazing Black musicians like Ma Rainey to gain respect and maintain power. The film is worth watching on multiple accounts, but it is especially resonant as Chadwick Boseman’s last film, and he doesn’t disappoint in his intense, soulful performance. 

The Prom

The Prom is based on the 2018 Tony-nominated musical about Broadway actors going to a small town in Indiana to advocate on behalf of a young lesbian, Emma, who is denied the ability to go to prom with her date. While the actors, played in the film by Meryl Streep, Nicole Kidman, James Corden, and Andrew Rannells, go for selfish reasons, over the course of their stay they become less self-absorbed and genuinely helpful in bringing about change in town. 

This Ryan Murphy-directed musical has received blowback for James Corden’s performance (I didn’t find it horrendous, but at best, it’s grating and tired), the lack of development for most of the characters, and leaning less into the satire of famous people and more into just focusing on famous people. The film has also been criticized for certain adaptational changes, which is what I find most revealing. One of the key adaptational changes is that Barry (Corden’s character) ends up reuniting with his mother, who kicked him out of the house as a teen. The film also has Kerry Washington’s character redeemed, accepting her gay daughter at the end of the film.

Neither of these story beats are in the musical and seem to me strange choices by Murphy. The LGBTQ+ community has a strong tradition of found families, yet The Prom prioritizes reunion with biological families, even families that treat their children terribly. The Prom is preaching to the choir but doesn’t really represent the diversity and core values of the LGBTQ+ community. In trying to be super palatable for straight people, it ends up feeling mushy and shapeless, like an overly-long musical number.

– Madeleine D.