In Lulu Wang’s film The Farewell, Billi (Awkwafina), a woman whose family moved to America from China when she was young, learns that her grandmother Nai-Nai (Zhao Shuzhen) has terminal cancer, and the whole family is going to China to say goodbye. The catch? The family is reuniting under the guise of a fake wedding, and Nai-Nai doesn’t know she has cancer. The family has decided not to tell her, per Chinese tradition. Billi goes and wrestles with returning to her home country and the grief that she must repress. 

The Farewell is a slow, contemplative film that is occasionally funny but mostly content with simply watching its characters. There is very little story, very little change within the characters, and no clear judgments on the central ethical question of whether it is wrong to lie to Nai-Nai about her condition.

Initially, this bothered me. My American sensibilities were frustrated with Billi’s lack of a character arc, the way the central problem isn’t “solved,” and how the film seems to emphasize all the wrong points. But the more I thought about it, the more I came to appreciate the film for what it is, which is two things: First, it is a film about grief, and grief is not something that is convenient, timely, concise, or narratively satisfying. Second, The Farewell is a movie less about its characters and more about its environment and sense of place. 

The first point. Billi is our protagonist in the loosest sense. We follow her around and she makes choices that change the course of the story, which makes her the main character. But she also doesn’t feel much like a protagonist because we don’t know much about her outside of her grief, and she doesn’t change (at least externally) over the course of the film. She is our point of view character, but less so as an individual and more so as a representative of her family. This, in and of itself, explores the theme of the American Individual vs. the Chinese Collective cultural mindset and, with that in mind, it is a less frustrating choice. 

Awkwafina does nice work here, but she doesn’t have a lot to do and doesn’t quite get across any indication that Billi has a rich inner life that we simply aren’t privy to. Because we know so little about Billi outside of her grief, it is hard to get a sense of her character or relate to her. But isn’t that the thing about grief? It can be so consuming that the grief feels like our whole identity and the only thing people can see in us. It is so overwhelming that our natural selves feel lost within it. Again, with that in mind, Billi’s character, and the film’s tone overall, is a less frustrating choice. 

What may have helped the film have higher stakes and have a more dynamic protagonist would have been to make Billi the one being coerced into the fake marriage. We would still have the outsider status and the central set-up, but there would have been more of a plot and more for Billi to proactively do than wander around the film and talk to various characters. 

But maybe that would have been too much like Crazy Rich Asians and too easy of a set-up. It would have also weakened the film’s focus on grief. And, after all, The Farewell is invested in its sense of place, and having wedding hijinks would distract from that. 

This sense of place, the atmosphere, is not only investigated in the physical environment of China, but also in the domestic settings. This film captures, scarily so, what it feels like to be at a family reunion. Maybe not for every family, but I had a family reunion about a month ago, and throughout the film I kept being reminded of it. The joy of the grandmother to have everyone under the same roof. The sitting around the table for hours. Various family members sneaking off to seek privacy and talk in hushed whispers. Taking pictures. Reading through old letters and visiting graves and collectively remembering those we’ve lost along the way. Looking around and wondering what it means that these people are tied into your DNA, yet you may know little to nothing about them. 

Ultimately, The Farewell is not interested in debating the ethics of such a lie. This is not a movie about mind-games and philosophical puzzles. It’s about presence, and it’s a clear reminder that every family, no matter cultural differences, is a family, and I think anyone will be able to see themselves in Billi’s family. So despite some small complaints, I think The Farewell is a beautiful film that is the perfect alternative to, say, Hobbs and Shaw, for your summer movie-watching.

“In the Christian imagination, where you live gets equal billing with what you believe. Geography and theology are biblical bedfellows…Biblical religion has a low tolerance for ‘great ideas’ or ‘sublime truths’ or ‘inspirational thoughts’ apart from the places in which they occur. God’s great love and purposes for us are worked out in the messes in our kitchens and backyards, in storms and sins, blue skies, daily work, working with us…where we are…and not where we would like to be.” 

-Eugene Peterson, in the forward to Sidewalks in the Kingdom by Eric O. Jacobsen 

“If we learn to see and even love these urban features, we will begin to cheer when our cities and neighborhoods are preserved, and we will begin to weep when they are destroyed” 

      -Jacobsen, 73 

The Last Black Man in San Francisco, despite its provocative and apocalyptic title, is a meandering and tender eulogy about a number of things. The film follows a man named Jimmie Fails (played by the man of the same name, on whose life story the film is based on) as he squats in the home he lived in as a kid and tries to find a way to buy it back for himself. Jimmie’s love for the house (and San Francisco at large) is of the purest form and is possibly only rivaled by the love of his friend Monty (Jonathan Majors), an aspiring playwright who supports Jimmie until he discovers the truth about the house. The film watches the characters navigate this increasingly strange and hostile city that they love but are being priced out of. The Last Black Man in San Francisco is a movie unlike any other movie that has come out this year, and I’d like to look at a few more reasons why.

In American filmmaking, time is treated like it is in our society- something to be hastened and exploited and used to its very last drop. Time efficiency is considered great storytelling, and sometimes it is. But sometimes it isn’t, and there becomes a point where efficiency in storytelling means the filmmaker may use her characters more as tools than as reflections of humans. In TLBMISF, the camera gazes upon human faces and human bodies in a way that aims to cut straight to the character’s humanity, and it does not hasten to do this or have an agenda. At one point Monty, after being berated by some men on the street, says to Jimmie, “I shouldn’t get to appreciate them because they’re mean to me? That’s silly.” This is the attitude the film takes. Some characters that seem to have no narrative function turn out to be of great importance. Some characters really do not have any greater plot function, but all are treated with care and dignity by the camera. I’ve talked a few times before about having an empathetic camera, but TLBMISF exemplifies the concept more fully than any other film I’ve seen. This is true visual storytelling and a better form of storytelling efficiency.  

An unexpected consequence of this narrative empathy was that this became a stressful viewing experience for me because there was no one to really root against, so there was no sense of, “Of course this bad guy will be defeated, good conquers evil!” I was constantly in suspense about what was going to happen, and the film continued to go in unexpected directions. I felt this anxiety early on because Jimmie and Monty are so dang likable, even when they’re not doing likable things. It’s impossible not to want them to succeed, and panic at all of the clear obstacles in their ways. 

Speaking of Monty and Jimmie, in films with friendship in the middle, one character often takes an extreme comedic relief role and the other plays the straight man. They have to be extremes to keep things interesting, and their quippy rapport is a shorthand to express their closeness. Monty and Jimmie don’t fit into these categories in any fashion. They have their differences, but the performances are so lived-in and organic, the chemistry between the leads so effortless, and the physical closeness they often share is so comfortable that there is no need to have any kind of shorthand or tropes to establish the relationship. And refreshingly, the film feels no need to “no homo” the character’s bond at any point, further exuding the confidence the film feels about its own presence. 

~

The quotes at the beginning of this review are from Sidewalks in the Kingdom, a book about Christianity and new urbanism. In it, author Eric O. Jacobsen argues what the Bible argues- that Christianity is not solely the realm of the head and heart, but has to be enacted on the streets of where we live, and increasingly, that place is a city. The Bible begins in the Garden of Eden but ends in the Kingdom of God, pointedly shown to be a city. 

TLBMISF sees the city, in this case, San Francisco, as the Bible sees cities. And as already discussed, it also sees people in the same way. As Jimmie tells some newcomers who already dislike San Francisco, “You can’t hate it unless you love it.” As Christians, we cannot recognize the problems in the world and in our cities until we at first truly, truly love it. 

I am writing this review and including these quotes because I encourage you to watch this film, and I think watching it in this framework will be helpful, thought-provoking, and hopefully, rewarding. It was impossible for me not to consider these things when I saw it. TLBMISF is not pointedly a spiritual film, but like all good movies, it illuminates truth. Christians are called to love the earth we are on, and work for its benefit and glory. If only we all saw the spaces we occupy and the communities we are a part of in the way Jimmie and Monty see San Francisco. If only we advocated for the restoration of the historical homes of our cities, called for walkable streets and sidewalks, for justice in our legal systems and in our economic policies, and for thoughtfulness and care put into the urban renewal that is not only gentrifying San Francisco but all of the United States. 

In other words, we can and should get to a point where we will begin to cheer when our cities and neighborhoods are preserved, and we will begin to weep when they are destroyed.

Recently, I found myself with a to-watch list that contained three Brie Larson films. So, in a very late celebration of her film Captain Marvel reaching the billion dollar mark at the box office and Avengers: Endgame taking all the rest of the world’s money, let’s take a look at some of the highlights of Larson’s filmography. 

Short Term 12

Short Term 12 is about Grace (Brie Larson), a young counselor at a care unit for at-risk teens. Grace herself was once one of those teens, but now is a model for the kids as she cares for them in a calm, firm, and compassionate manner. The slice-of-life drama follows Grace and her boyfriend/ fellow counselor Mason (John Gallagher Jr.) as they face new challenges at the center and in their relationship. 

There’s not a single weak performer in the cast. While Larson got deserved praise for her performance, John Gallagher Jr. is equally perfect. He does most of the comedic lifting, but he has a number of small dramatic moments that make the film work so well, and he and Larson have perfect chemistry. The supporting cast, including rising stars Rami Malek and Lakeith Stanfield (go see Sorry to Bother You!), are equally great in their roles. 

The film is so authentic and realistic it feels like a documentary, but it never once lost my attention. It is, simply put, riveting. Short Term 12 never shies away from the flaws of its characters, but it also never forgets their dignity and beauty either. It is the kind of film that pulls you completely into the story, and makes you feel the pain of each character, yet also makes you feel stronger and more ready to take on life when you leave the theater. I believe it is a must-see. 

Room

Like Short Term 12, this is another realistic, serious film that is almost documentary-like in parts as it tells the story of Joy (Brie Larson) and her son Jack (Jacob Tremblay) as they escape their kidnapper and restart life in the real world.

I resisted seeing Room for a while, knowing it was going to be a hard watch. Thankfully, it’s not a shocking or gratuitous film, but it is still emotionally heavy. This story is about a crime but that’s not its focus; the focus is on the human soul. 

Every time Room could fall into a cliche about the inspiring strength of the human spirit or the resilience of kids, it sidesteps the cliche gracefully and tells a fuller story. It is a reminder of the strength of the human spirit and the resilience of kids, but the movie doesn’t end on a victorious or inspirational note. Instead, it embodies an honest view of the evils of the world but with a persistent attitude of hope. Another must-see, if only for Larson and Tremblay’s incredible work.

Unicorn Store

A lighthearted departure from her other films, Unicorn Store is Larson’s directorial debut. She stars as Kit, a young adult who refuses to grow up. She meets a man called The Salesman (Samuel L. Jackson), who promises to give her her heart’s desire- a unicorn- if she prepares a home for it. Kit accepts the challenge and must learn how to take care of the creature, and maybe along the way learn to care for herself. 

Kit as a character is very uneven, like the film, but I did like that she offers up a fresh breath of air as a heroine. A lot of female characters are getting the “strong” treatment, in which the description of “strong” ceases to have any actual meaning and instead becomes code for, “just like the ideal male hero,” which means completely competent and physically tough with a lack of or at least a comfortably low count of any feminine qualities. (Obviously, there is a discussion to be had if being “strong” should be thought of as a firstly masculine trope and narrative at all, but that’s a different discussion). Anyway, here Kit is not strong in any of the ways the word is used. She’s not physically strong, she’s not particularly mentally strong or tough, and is not someone to look up to. She is *gasp* flawed and must grow. 

Kit is silly and immature and unsure of herself, and yet that is never equated with her femininity, which itself is never taken from her, even as she matures. The problem with Kit is never presented that she likes glitter and unicorns and pink- an over-the-top feminine aesthetic- the problem is that she is resistant to change and unprepared for adult life. I found that refreshing and know the character of Kit will resonate with a lot of women. 

Unfortunately, Unicorn Store really wants to be quirky and unique, which is usually the mindset that makes a film fail to be either quirky or unique or good. The forced whimsy of the film, combined with an all-too-obvious metaphor, keeps it from being much of a meditation on the difference between being childish and being like a child. This is furthered by the uneven tone that fluctuates between child-like wonder and childishness, which might have been an interesting way to reflect Kit’s character but is clearly out of bad filmmaking instead. 

As for her directing, Larson is fine but is bettered by the cinematography by Brett Pawlak and is weakened by Samantha Montgomery McIntyre’s script. There’s still potential here for Larson’s next directorial effort- and I do hope she does another film- but I think it would be better for her to focus on a more minimalistic story.

~ 

Is there a common thread between these projects? I would say so. Both Room and Short Term 12 are about people in crisis that are trying to regain an identity outside of being in crisis. Unicorn Store is also about identity, but the crisis has much lower stakes and comes more from personal failure and dissatisfaction than the outward influences that plague the characters of Short Term 12 and Room. 

Unicorn Store relies on Larson to play a bold, quirky, and altogether more performative character, while her other work has her do the opposite in extremely subdued, naturalistic characterizations. Her performance in Unicorn Store is not bad, but it doesn’t play to her strengths, which makes it comparable to her work as Captain Marvel. Her uniqueness as an actress lies in how she makes each character feel lived in, to such a degree that I feel, watching them, that I could sit down with Joy of Room or Grace of Short Term 12 and ask them about their pasts and they could tell me all sorts of things. Both Carol Danvers aka Captain Marvel and Kit from Unicorn Store are big personalities that make it seems like Larson is impersonating other actors who would fit those roles better (although I truly think Larson will come more into her own as Captain Marvel by her next appearance and under better directors).

Watching a selection of films from an actor’s filmography is a helpful way to not only understand the actor better but the craft of acting. And I think this experiment not only gave me two excellent films to enjoy but also should serve as a reminder that Brie Larson does not deserve all the online trolling and hate she is getting. So, if you’re a Marvel fan harassing Brie Larson online- quit it! I would say I will find you myself, but after seeing how ripped Larson got to play Captain Marvel, I think she can take care of herself. 

-Madeleine D. 

I initially wanted to watch Netflix’s To The Bone because I wanted to understand how to help my friends who have eating disorders. And I really like Lily Collins. We have similar eyebrows.

As news came out about the film, though, it became even more intriguing. Suddenly it was controversial. Should Collins, who struggled with anorexia as a teenager, have lost weight for the role? Didn’t that put her at risk? Is depicting eating disorders going to trigger those who struggle with them? Does it glamorize them? And should Netflix be making movies anyway? Aren’t movies only for theaters and big studios?

But once I actually pushed “play” on To The Bone all of the controversy melted away. I was instantly engrossed by the story of Ellen (played by Collins), a 20 year old with anorexia nervosa who has tried seemingly everything. Her last hope, a group home led by the unconventional Dr. Beckham (Keanu Reeves) may be what she needs, but Ellen isn’t even sure if she wants to get better.

The first thing that is striking about To The Bone is that it is very insider-baseball. The dialogue and details in the film could only have been made by someone who had close experience with eating disorders. And it turns out it was. Writer and director Marti Noxon has struggled with eating disorders. That means that with her and star Collins, the whole production was creatively led by women who had intimate insights into the psychology of eating disorders. They know what they’re talking about, and the film does, too.

But this made me feel misled. I thought I was going to watch a film about solutions. And while there are some suggested, it’s not what the film is about. It’s a message to fellow victims of eating disorders, not to the people around them. Noxon’s message is about choosing to change. Choosing to try, and choosing to live.

Because it’s such a life-affirming film, it is forced to  walk a tricky balance between being cheesy and being truthful. It mostly walks the line well, but sometimes it stumbles. Some critics have critiqued the film in the moments where it goes “inspirational,” and a character comments on it (like, “you’re trying to make us love life, Doctor”). These critics say the film uses bathos. Heck, I’ve criticized films for doing that. But I don’t think it is a problem here.

The difference is that To the Bone is making a statement. The inspirational, life-is-beautiful moments do not change the character. Therefore, when the character comments on it and has a snarky remark, it’s not the writer bailing out on a scene- it’s the movie saying to its audience, “We understand that people say this stuff to you and it isn’t working.” If this were a film that was just using bathos, the character would comment, but still be affected by the inspirational moment.

Ultimately, the message of the film is that no one person is able to make Ellen want to live. It’s a lot of things, but ultimately, it’s her decision.

That’s an idea I haven’t seen on screen recently, and it’s a lot better than the European-vacation-romance-makes-me-want-to-live story shown in book/movies like Me Before You and The Fault in Our Stars.

Noxon and Collins pull the curtain back on the mind of a person with an eating disorder. It’s not the sunset beaches or cool museums or kisses that are going to save them. They’ll probably call you out on it, as Ellen does to the well-intended characters in the film. It’s a personal choice, and it’s one that the film asks its intended audience to make.

As someone who doesn’t struggle with eating disorders, I can’t say whether To The Bone would be troubling for some. It is an unflinching look at what eating disorders do to the body, the soul, and the lives of loved ones. It’s also a well-acted and thoughtful film, with one of the coolest metaphorical baptism scenes I have ever seen.  If you watch it, watch it with discretion, but I think it is worth anyone’s time.

-Madeleine D

(spoilers ahead)

Every morning, Paterson (Adam Driver), who lives in the town of Paterson, NJ, gets up. He goes to work (he’s a bus driver). He writes poetry. He comes home to his wife, Laura (Golshifteh Farahani), who always has a new project to show him. He takes the dog out for a walk. He goes to the bar, gets one beer, and talks to the owner, Doc. Rinse, wash, repeat.

In Paterson, one week in the life of Paterson is shown. How could this possibly be any more interesting than watching paint dry? I go to the movies for escape, not to watch some dude’s daily routine. How could watching seven days in a fictional character’s life be worthwhile?

Paterson reminded me of another low-key, almost drama-less indie that came out last year: Loving. I said in my review of that film about the famous Loving vs Virginia case, “(Loving) reminds me why not a lot of movies are made about introverts. It doesn’t matter how powerful those closeups of intense expressions are. It doesn’t matter how wonderful they are as role models… Quiet people simply do not have the onscreen charisma we are used to to entertain us. And I say this all as an introvert. A movie about me would not be entertaining in the least.”

Paterson is very Loving-like on the surface, minus the historical importance. It’s about Paterson, a quiet, kind, dutiful man, and his slightly more eccentric but equally as kind and lovable wife. They lead an unremarkable life, and are content. They’re even inter-racial like the Lovings, although this film does not treat that as anything but normal.

Loving doesn’t succeed as a movie because it takes what people see on the surface when it comes to quiet, calm, introverted people: silence and boredom. And that becomes the movie. (Not to say Loving doesn’t have good elements, it’s just underwhelming)

However, Paterson succeeds because it takes what goes on below the surface of quiet, calm, introverted people: observation, introspect, and a rich inner life. And that becomes the movie instead.

The cinematography of Paterson, richly done by Frederick Elmes, is Paterson’s inner monologue and observations. The shots of the shoes of people on the bus. The details of people’s knees touching. The layers of waterfalls and beers and faces and notebooks, are all  visual representations of Paterson’s brain. The brain of an artist works like that, and the film is able to capture a rich inner life visually with both simplicity and bravo.

The other thing that compels the character of Paterson to be beyond what is on the surface is Adam Driver’s performance. None of his moves seem calculated. He is simply inhabiting the body of Paterson, and exploring the world around him. It is beautiful to behold. He and Farahani are so lovable in the roles, that at the slightest bit of tension I was afraid something bigger would happen and I didn’t want them to get hurt.

Luckily for me, nothing did happen to them. Well, it seems like nothing bad happens to them. The climax of the film involves (spoiler) Paterson’s notebook of poetry being torn up by a dog. Nobody except his wife even knows about his poetry. Is that really climax-worthy?

While watching the scene, my mind rushed to the other writer’s-notebook-gets-destroyed scene from one of my favorite films, Little Women (1994). Little sister Amy rips up Jo’s notebook, and Jo (understandably, from a fellow writer’s perspective) viciously attacks her.

I held my breath as Paterson and Laura walked in to see the notebook. I waited for Paterson to explode into anger, or cry, or chase after the dog. Or at least Laura to do something.

But instead they just react. Paterson doesn’t get visibly upset, because it’s nobody’s fault. Laura tries to make him feel better, but there is nothing she can do.

So I let out my breath and relaxed. Nothing bad happened to them. It’s all okay. Until you start thinking about the whole movie, and realize that it’s not okay. This really is a climax. This really is a dramatic moment for the film. Just because it’s quiet and not overblown or even truly expressed, I just spent an hour and a half watching a week in Paterson’s life, just to to feel the pain of this moment, which in any other movie would not be felt at all.

Paterson is an ode to our own beautiful lives. No matter how ordinary, or routine, or small, what we do and how we act and how we interact with people around us matter. The more you observe it, the more poetic- whether sad or hopeful- it becomes. Our lives fuel our art and passions, so that itself gives it worth.

Paterson, like its lead, has more going on under the surface, and it’s dazzling in its own peculiar way.

-Madeleine D

First-grader Mary is gifted. Now, aren’t we all gifted in something? Some of us are great athletes. Some of us win every spelling bee. Some of us are natural artists. And some of us are really good at getting participation awards.

But Mary (Mckenna Grace) is a different kind of gifted. She’s Stephen Hawking, Albert Einstein, Katherine Johnson level genius. She’s far beyond what any elementary school could teach her, and who would want such a gifted child to be stuck with kids still learning basic addition?

Her Uncle Frank (Chris Evans), that’s who. He wants to raise his niece right, after her mother took her own life. And right means normal and happy and not-weird. Too bad Frank’s mother Evelyn (Lindsay Duncan) doesn’t see it that way.

Director Marc Webb is back from directing the two totally not controversial or hated Amazing Spider-Man films, and is ready to go back to telling small, stand alone stories. He made a name for himself with 500 Days of Summer, and now, armed with a script from the Blacklist and star power, he’s ready to go.

Speaking of star power, the real tragedy of this film, beside suicide, neglect, abandonment, and disabled cats, is Octavia Spencer getting another underused role. She gets maybe fifteen minutes of screen time. Give her the deep acting role! I know she was busy getting Oscar nominations and literally playing God, but come on! You had Octavia Spencer!

Meanwhile, Chris Evans gives this movie his all. He’s going for gold. When he’s in the courtroom, you can see Jack Nicholson from A Few Good Men playing behind his eyes. When he’s staring off into the sunset, you can tell he watched at least two Daniel Day-Lewis movies. He portrays Frank’s insecurities about his abilities, and his devoted love, with sincerity, charm, and ease. He does his darndest, and for the most part, it works.

It’s screenwriter Tom Flynn (Watch It (1993)) that is the biggest problem. Just like Frank in this movie, I think Flynn has some self-doubt to work through. His script is good. There are quite a few moments, particularly in the familial drama department, that got me. As things were revealed throughout the film, I was excited about how it would impact the rest of the story.

Then, Flynn loses his nerve. He seems to get worried the nuances of his script and the threads he had laid won’t be enough. So he adds things. Sure, a child being ripped away from her guardian is tough, but you know what is tougher? A one-eyed cat about to be put down. Sure, Frank is shown to be a good guardian throughout all the scenes, but you know what will really make him a hero? If he storms into a shelter, rescues/steals three cats, then trespasses to take back his niece with some questionable legal skills. Sure, the teacher and Frank have a connection, and Frank wants a life and fellow adult connections, but you know what will really show that? Besides a drinking scene where they literally tell each other their greatest fears? An unnecessary bedroom scene, then a basic disregard of the teacher later.

Stories about gifted kids aren’t particularly new. There have been numerous other films that have explored the idea of adults trying to make the right decisions for children, especially gifted ones. The ethical problems presented in the film are interesting though. It’s not that this sort of story shouldn’t be told again. It’s that this kind of story has more depth to explore, and I don’t think Gifted quite takes the leap from by-the-books family drama to a more thoughtful exploration of its topic.

For example, it could take a chance and make the audience feel more uncomfortable with both options. What if Frank wasn’t a lovable guy, but just a solid guardian? What if Evelyn was more likeable? What if Mary was more troubled than just being precocious? Instead, Gifted, for all of its twists, still puts people in boxes.

At one point in the film, Frank reveals to Evelyn something along the lines of somebody wanted her to die. People in my audience cheered. Yeah! Take that Evelyn! You deserve it, you monster!

Really? What if the audience couldn’t react with a cheer when the “Bad Guy” is beaten? What if it was more difficult to see who was right? What if it was more like real life, where there are no clear heroes and villains in cases like these?

So, Gifted doesn’t take the plunge. It plays it safe. While Gifted is a film with promise and talent, and is disappointing when it doesn’t go the extra mile to be better, all that doesn’t make the film bad. If you don’t go in with high expectations, it will be very enjoyable. I was engaged the entire time, and so was the rest of the audience.

Maybe, if anything, it’ll remind you of how important good role models are. Go thank your teachers and parents and anyone else in your life who has made a big impact on you. Even the people who were in a grey zone, most of them tried their best. That is one message of Gifted that is okay with exploring complexity.

-Madeleine D