Director: Justin Baldoni
Writers: Mikki Daughtry, Tobias Iaconis
Stars: Haley Lu Richardson, Cole Sprouse, Moises Arias

Synopsis: A pair of teenagers with life-threatening illnesses meet in a hospital and fall in love.

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I have to admit, I went into Five Feet Apart expecting to roll my eyes at the usual sick-lit teen romance tropes. And, for the most part, this is a pretty standard entry in the genre. But, what I appreciated about this take was the believability of the premise, the likeability of the characters, and the way it was able to subvert expectations, at least at times, without seeming too self-aware of the tropes or winking at the audience too much.

There is certainly a suspension of disbelief that comes, at times, with this movie. I often found myself wondering how certain hospital staff members retained their employment when they constantly lost track of their pediatric patients, for example. But the basic premise – two teenagers, both with cystic fibrosis, fall in love despite not being able to touch – gives a unique and realistic Romeo and Juliet twist to the genre. I also thought the script handled the exposition behind the illness extremely well. The main character, Stella, has a YouTube channel in which she shares information about cystic fibrosis and her experiences with the illness, and the script’s use of these videos to share information the characters otherwise wouldn’t need to explain felt extremely organic.

My biggest complaints about this movie come with the dialogue and the pace. The dialogue was a bit stiff, at times, and both the first and last acts felt loose and rushed in a way that made it obvious that it was adapted from a novel. However, both Haley Lu Richardson as Stella and Cole Sprouse as Will have the charisma and the acting chops to carry the story despite these weaker elements of the script. By the second act break, I was totally sold on their relationship and genuinely liked both characters despite their more awkward, tropey interactions in the first act.

When it comes to the sick-lit genre, it is very easy to come across as either exploitative of the illness in question or romanticizing dying teenagers, neither of which are particularly awesome approaches. But Five Feet Apart, like other more recent entries in the genre, felt like a teen romance that happened to involve terminal illness rather than a movie about terminal illness that happened to involve teenage romance. This focus on character over premise allowed the script to divert some of the more obvious tropes of the genre while exploring other tropes from a slightly different angle (in the interest of remaining spoiler-free, I’ll leave it at that).

I didn’t expect much from Five Feet Apart, but I can say that I walked out of the theater glad I watched it. The script, though rushed and sloppy at times, was engaging, and I found myself invested in these characters and their story in a way I didn’t expect based on the trailers alone. If you have even the slightest interest in seeing this movie, I recommend that you do. But you pretty much know what you’re getting into – if you’re not interested for reasons other than fearing it’s a blatant The Fault in Our Stars knockoff, don’t waste your time.

Overall Grade: B-

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Director: Dan Reed
Stars: Michael Jackson, Wade Robson, James Safechuck

Synopsis: At the height of his stardom, the world’s biggest pop star, Michael Jackson, began long-running relationships with two boys, aged seven and ten, and their families. They now allege that he sexually abused them.

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Off the Wall, released in 1979, paved the way for Michael Jackson to officially BECOME Michael Jackson. It is perhaps the greatest disco album of all time, and arguably the disco album to end all disco albums; without it there would never have been world’s greatest-selling Thriller (1982), the synth-driven maturity of Bad (1987), or the New Jack Swing of Dangerous (1991). It is also one of my top 5 favorite albums of all time, a musical nerd-ism I used to take pride in saying. Now, I may need to take a step back and consider that response; but should I even half to?

We all should not only be aware of Michael Jackson the artist, but Michael Jackson the man, and his most arduous lifestyle. Michael was nicknamed “Wacko Jacko” by no mere coincidence, as his lifestyle straddled the line between the bizarre and, according to the new documentary Leaving Neverland, the downright unforgivable. Accusations of child sexual abuse against Michael have been going on since 1993, but it’s Wade Robson and James Safechuck who have now come along to recontextualize what we as fans have been wrestling with for over two decades; was it all true?

Leaving Neverland focuses on Wade and James’ respective stories, strictly from their points of view; this much I expected. What I did not expect was a documentary that questions (and sometimes even contradicts) itself. It’s a movie that begins and ends with both love and hate for Michael, viewing the accused with some sense of open-mindedness, from a man who did the worst of things but also never had a proper childhood of his own, something that Wade and James, as well as their families, emphasize throughout the documentary. And in the case of Michael Jackson, this perhaps inadvertently tackles the notion we as critics and fans of art (and even sports) continue to grapple with all the time; is it possible to separate the man from the art? Leaving Neverland seems to make both arguments simultaneously.

Perhaps this is a contributing factor as to why the film has garnered so much controversy, as director Dan Reed still retains some pity for a man that abused his power as a celebrity. There’s no arguing the cruelty in Michael’s actions, if we choose to believe in Wade and James’ stories (and for the record, I do believe them), and Reed does not shy away from the gratuitousness in what Michael did to Wade and James (forewarning, this film is a tough watch for those who cannot handle such graphic testimonials). The film also does not include statements from those closer to Michael (such as his family), and with Michael Jackson now dead, he is no longer here to defend himself. Many fans and friends of Michael have already voiced their frustrations, but these are all deliberate choices from Dan Reed, as it is clear from the onset that he is making a film that serves as both a warning and an awakening for all victims of child abuse, no matter the ramifications. It may be from a one-sided perspective, but it is not one-dimensional.

Despite Michael no longer being around, Reed hopes to grant us the ability to open up about past traumas regardless of the potential backlash, emphasizing how it is psychologically beneficial to do so. A common defense, and key thematic notion here, is blame; blame toward others or against yourself. This is depicted by Wade and James’ mothers, who constantly question what they themselves could and should have done differently, something we as viewers question do too, given the fact that these parents openly let their children stay in the same bed as an older man without considering the awful consequences. But Reed isn’t interested in pointing fingers, and wants us as viewers to be mindful of that. Leaving Neverland is a story about admittance and opening up, and how poignantly ironic it is that Wade and James choose to open up after becoming fathers themselves, when each of their respective father figures were barely in the picture (just as it was for Michael Jackson himself). While its focus is on the Robson’s and the Safechuck’s, Leaving Neverland is a calling to all of those speaking out about their abusive pasts. But it extends even further than that, as it is also an invitation for us as fans of Michael Jackson and his music.

Perhaps this is where I need to get a little musically selfish, because I cannot talk about Leaving Neverland without looking at it through a pop culture window as well, especially when the very notion of artistic integrity is put under the celebrity microscope. As viewers, we are left with lingering questions regarding Michael as both a man and the King of Pop. Is it possible to still enjoy his music, given his actions as a man? Were his actions deliberately manipulative or rooted in childhood innocence? Or both? To take it a step further, is it possible that the success of his music was fueled by his inappropriate behavior, and his cruel actions served as his form of artistic inspiration?

Whether it be intentional or not, Leaving Neverland urges us as fans of art to consider the grey areas around the integrity of the artist versus the integrity of the man; can they be separated, or are they mutually exclusive? Dan Reed has a lot on his mind; he believes in Wade and James’ story enough to emphasize the damaging effects of sexual abuse on children and their families, hoping to help others in the process. But he’s not out to convince you of Michael’s villainy, and is instead asking you to consider the ambiguities; even Wade and James themselves, willing to admit that Michael was not a good person, still cannot help but acknowledge the love they had for him, and the influence Michael had on their respective careers (Wade especially, who would go on to become *NSYNC and Britney Spears’ choreographer). Reed wants us as fans of Michael Jackson to consider the relationship we have with the artist; we should not let our fandom cloud our judgment, nor should we simply brush these issues aside because it’s easier to ignore or refuse to believe. Reed never discredits Michael Jackson as an artist, suggesting that being able to continue separating the art from the man is just human nature. Just like the documentary, we too should keep an open mind, and despite the coincidental name of a classic Michael Jackson song, sometimes these situations aren’t so “black or white”.

I have chosen to keep that open mind as well. Having spent four hours with Wade and James, I do believe in their story. And as a big Michael Jackson fan it pains me to admit that, and yet I still choose to remain a fan of his music; as a musician, my playing and writing style will always be influenced by Michael, and that will never change. Just as much as Dan Reed is emphasizing the humanity in this story and the power of opening up, he is also arguing in support of artistic perspective. Perhaps the integrity of the artist has been compromised, but maybe the art itself doesn’t have to be; I like knowing that that’s up to us as fans of art to decide. In the middle of this story is one of innocence lost, even when it comes at the cost of musical and artistic discovery. Having now left Neverland, hopefully Wade and James can finally grow up.

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Hear our podcast review on Extra Film here!

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Director: Sebastián Lelio
Writers: Alice Johnson Boher (adapted screenplay), Sebastián Lelio
Stars: Julianne Moore, John Turturro, Alanna Ubach, Michael Cera

Synopsis: A free-spirited woman in her 50s seeks out love at L.A. dance clubs.

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Humans are not meant to be alone, that’s at least what I believe. Whether it is a pet or another person, I think that we need something to keep us from going to a downward spiral of sadness. So while I was watching the events of Sebastián Lelio’s Gloria Bell, I couldn’t help but feel true sorrow for the title character of the film as she is going through so much bad luck in her life, trying to find her happiness when everyone else in her life seems to be in a pretty even space.

The film follows Gloria (Julianne Moore), a divorced real estate agent with two grown up kids and has been living on her own for more than a decade. Her life is pretty easy going. She goes to work, then sees one of her kids, hangs out with her friends, and then when she is free, she goes dancing at a singles bar in downtown Los Angeles. Some nights she goes home with someone, some nights she goes home alone to her home with a cat that keeps breaking into her home and sleeping in her kitchen. One night at the bar, while dancing with another man, she locks eyes with Arnold (John Turturro), and the romance between the two begins. Gloria and Arnold’s chemistry is instant and the relationship blossoms over the course of a couple of months. But just like in any relationship, there are hurdles and obstacles that shape and test the relationship, leading to Gloria having to come to some harsh decisions about her life.

While the story of Gloria Bell sounds good on paper and when describing it within this review, it was a really hard film to attach to considering the pacing that Lelio brings within his direction and script, which is an American remake of his own film Gloria from 2013. He takes his time slowly setting up Gloria, with character moments that show you her life and how the people in her life treat her. The strangers in the bars that she dances with treat her better than her own kids, who treat her like garbage when she has done nothing wrong. The film meanders through the first twenty minutes of this movie till Arnold shows up and gives Gloria someone that actually likes her and treats her with the amount of love and respect that she deserves.

Then the next twenty minutes of the film play off like something out of Richard Linklater’s Boyhood. We get snap shots of Gloria and Arnold’s relationship, leaving us as an audience wanting more out of those scenes because they are the best parts of the movie because it is the right amount of joy and mystery within a first time relationship. While there is joy in the scenes because the actors are so good together in the film, they are incomplete for me. Thus when the big turn in the middle of the films comes, it kind of felt weird and out of place for me and then remaining hour of the film, I felt like I was on a roller-coaster trying to connect back to Gloria and by the end, I just couldn’t get back into her story one hundred percent.

The performances by Moore and Turturro are pretty solid for two actors that I would love to see work together in another film that uses them better. The supporting cast of Michael Cera, Brad Garrett, Caren Pistorius and Sean Astin are mostly nothing but mean characters that felt like they should have been in another movie hating on someone that is a bad character instead of Moore’s Gloria who is generally a nice person. The only person that gives a good performance from the supporting cast, and isn’t written out of spite, is Holland Taylor, who plays Gloria’s mother and takes care of her through all the rough things going on to Gloria through the run time of the film.

The production design, editing and cinematography feel like they are made for a much happier film. You must think that I don’t think romantic films can be sad, that’s not true, they can be sad, they just don’t have to be mean. From viewing this trailer in front of every film I saw for the last four months, I thought this movie would be a delight and departure for Lelio, who gave us Disobedience last year and A Fantastic Woman in 2017. I thought the lighter side of him would come out, and it does for twenty to thirty minutes, but the rest of the film feels out of touch with those bits and thus why I was disappointed by the end result. Humans shouldn’t be alone and deserve all the happiness in the world, and Gloria Bell deserved much more happiness behind the camera and on the page to make this something truly worth dancing for.

Overall Grade: C-

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Director: Riley Stearns
Writers: Riley Stearns
Stars: Jesse Eisenberg, Alessandro Nivola, Imogen Poots

Synopsis: After he’s attacked on the street at night by a roving motorcycle gang, Casey joins a neighborhood karate studio to learn how to protect himself.

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If you would’ve told me the The Art of Self-Defense came out in the mid 2000s, I wouldn’t argue with you. The result of that statement refers back to the commodity of dry humor that Riley Stearns is so reliant on in his sophomore outing. It’s a kind of venture that’s wickedly humorous yet even a bit light-hearted in its outlandish integrants; but ultimately it makes for a darker, melancholic social tale of human change. It broadly ties into the ideology of a person having to dive into their head to unlock their full potential, even if that means having to be their own worst enemy.

Jesse Eisenberg plays the high-strung Casey, someone in which Alessandro Nivola’s character refers to as “awkwardly feminine”. We’re used to seeing Eisenberg portray similar characters with an offbeat sense of logic along with varying dispositions through each role. Here he commands our protagonist with an extravagant level of timidity. It provides him more of an empathetic arc and is even at times a strangely relatable character. He depicts the nature of his conflicts and current predicaments with dispassionate humor yet also through tendencies and circumstances that are mildly heartbreaking. As an ensemble everyone prevails in the dominant portions of comedy during the film. Alessandro Nivola is with ease the biggest standout. His sociopathic character contains a persona so unintentionally amusing but also imprudently grim and cynical. He openly lacks sensibility and lives his life unapologetically, with not a shred of care of who or what he harms along the way. The rest of cast is compiled of a lot of lesser-known talent but are all mutually capable and skilled in the creation of their characters select idiosyncrasies. They’re all purposefully blended carefully and effectively with each other, which evidently was a superior preference. Especially since Eisenberg’s character remains as the epicenter throughout everything, with occasional supporting character inclusions and backgrounds.

Although I was unfamiliar with Stearns’ prior debut, I can only imagine how it must be with the aftermath of watching this. The film rides a fine line of dramedy which sprouts from a hypnotic script from Stearns. The whole movie almost transpires inside this inconsequential universe where our protagonists and antagonists face no other ample threat besides one another. It allows for an eclectic variety of our characters tendencies and the events they later partake in. A project that’s so subtly amusing balances a contrast of some of the most depressing motifs and imagery thus far in 2019–which is largely ironic. It revolves around the societal (yet in this case more communal) ideology of acceptance. Not just with one’s self but with the authoritative presence of Nivola’s character and his karate dogma. It pins an emotional weight on everyone’s shoulders and paints his character as this corrupt-like figure that others shouldn’t look up to, but woefully do.

Not just applicable to his screenplay but also to his direction, Stearns achieves great heights at not only directing the story progression but also with each character’s direction. It’s inherently organic and feels sharply cohesive in its attempt at a newfangled approach. It’s warmly reminiscent of old 2000s sleeper hits with the impassive segments of humor and something I can see developing a cult following as the years go by. Stearns is surely one of the more adept and fresh faces in this growing list of individualistic filmmakers.

While the audacity of The Art of Self-Defense is commendable with its rather unflinching style, personally the periodic episodes of erratic character motives makes it harder to stay in to. That certain extent of unconventionality that advances you in, could quite possibly be a determining factor to drive you away. It’s not even on behalf of the footing of the film’s inaccessibility per se, just the irregularity of the circumstances that it constantly continues to outdo each time. A couple of the story decisions towards the unraveling of the third act remain insipid in their subsequent connection to the plot. It’s nothing that’s attempting to be obnoxiously esoteric and in the grand scheme of it all, it’s never anything unbearable or massively distracting.

The Art of Self-Defense is surprisingly bold. It serves as a sedated, unorthodox comedy that maintains a brilliant perception of itself while assimilating undertones of personal standards and self-esteem. It makes for a tragic piece of storytelling and an ingenious alternative route of filmmaking. It’s quite unusual, so what? For a movie like this the weirder it is, the better.

Overall Grade: A-

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Director: Harmony Korine
Writers: Harmony Korine
Stars: Matthew McConaughey, Isla Fisher, Snoop Dogg, Martin Lawrence, Stefania LaVie Owen

Synopsis: A rebellious stoner named Moondog lives life by his own rules.

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As Harmony Korine stumbled on to the stage to introduce his first feature film in nearly 7 years, I couldn’t help but observe the manner in which he presented himself. He was so deliberately nonchalant—or more likely under the influence of alcohol or marijuana(something he’s been known to publicly do). He didn’t have any substantial foreword to delight the audience with for the curation of the film and often found himself tripping over his unrehearsed selection of words. What struck a chord was the finality of his preface, in which he emphasized the basis for this project was sparked upon the idea that the current world has been so subjected to increasing principles of hostility in society. Through this outing he felt inspired to display a creative experience stimulated by utter pleasure, women, boat captains, rastas, poetry, and a whole lot of Mary Jane as a buoyant distraction from all of the world’s present-day shortcomings. The Beach Bum does that with flying colors.

Korine has always been somewhat of a polarizing figure in the spectacle of underground directors through modern day entertainment and film. Breaking onto the scene penning the 1995 feature Kids, he followed up with his critically-loathed directorial debut Gummo two years later. It seemed as though Korine’s films were only getting more obscure and obscene as the years progressed. With each future release of a new project, the term “you either love it or you hate it” was being thrown around more abundantly and distinctly. Blending genres that resembled mumblecore yet also incorporating the fear of a grounded sense of dystopia in to a variety of his depictions and movies is where he found his filmmaking niche. The biggest contradictory to that statement is perhaps The Beach Bum itself, Korine’s most light-hearted film ever.

If there’s any conclusive achievement to be crowned to Korine for this brash experience of a movie is just how gratifying it felt to be apart of. The steadily suggestive and extreme humor grapples laughter from the viewer throughout each scenario. Especially the more unorthodox they begin to get. The only exception being one scene utilized as plot escalation and is in no way glorified or blatantly extended. Nevertheless, it’s nonstop in every meaning of the word and even manages to sustain the audience’s undivided attention. Credit to the insanely stacked and talented cast for another subdued victory as this on-screen, unequivocal, multifaceted entourage. Matthew McConaughey playing the vulgar Moondog, who hasn’t but one care in the world, is an irreverent stoner and poet who’ll have a stamp in this year’s pop culture and perhaps even years to come. Despite McConaughey’s exuberance as this character, the rest of the supporting cast lineup initiates a lot more of the films worth while occasions. Snoop Dogg, Isla Fisher, Stefania LaVie Owen, Zac Efron, Jonah Hill, Martin Lawrence, and Jimmy Buffett are all marvelously hilarious and crude in their own definitive ways. All of their on-screen interactions with Moondog and with one another feed off of their prowess as actors in reality. They don’t quite have the most ept screen-time but are portrayed with such an air of eccentricity that you reminisce on them once they make a momentary departure, hoping for a subsequent return.

It’s hard to believe something like The Beach Bum was so methodical from the jump of the gun. A film that spends the majority of its time loitering around and highlighting the quirks of the environment amongst the often facetious and amplified versions of its natives, emanates a feeling of improvisation. It’s through the sheer rowdiness of the plot advancement that leads to this assumption, yet everything is delicately scripted to a baked (quite literally) excellence. Throughout the day’s striking golden haze and the nightly effervescent skyline, the schemes of these wild-mannered citizens preserved in this carefree atmosphere are so accurately embellished that it seems as though they could be factual people. There’s more than likely people somewhere in the world that reflect the conduct of each of these characters. In other words, they’re all produced with such specificity that’s it easy to believe there’s a high probability of people that mirror this type of reasoning and lifestyle.

For a film that’s so self-indulgent in the outrageous bravado of having a good time, the film blossoms like a byproduct of Korine’s personal attitude. He’s even said it himself, he’s not exactly the most productive in the assembly of film’s compared to his fellow counterparts. The character of Moondog is so negligent through the work ethic of his poetry, that he only feels obligated to write during or after his episodes of intoxication. I’d like to believe that persona is a culmination of an over-exaggerated offspring of Korine. Not the excessive partying and drinking, but for a corresponding reality that links to him only wanting to direct a film if he really feels it. It’s definitely a subconscious identification that may or may not pin Moondog to himself. Or maybe I’ve just read too much in to it.

Those who despise Korine’s former endeavors or even those unfamiliar with his peculiar style will have complaints equipped as soon as the floodgates open. Even though it’ll be labeled as a shocking and pointless “thing” of repetitious muck with inexcusable stakes, I can understandably see where that point of reference stems from. Through all of the nihilistic amusement, the bubbly imagery of a Floridian haven, and the clouds of weed smoke, it does tend to linger around possibly longer than it should. Not to say I didn’t enjoy those extra occurrences of a poetically induced paradise, but it raises the question of how long you can continue an arc without changing directions and losing previously invested viewers. For that aspect I can discern it’s incoming criticisms, but in relation to the lack of substance; what did you expect? A deeper commentary (something like Spring Breakers) disguised in party soaked euphoria? The Beach Bum has no ulterior connotation other than what’s portrayed. And even then there’s no denying it’s grimy elegance.

As stated, one can already perceive the slew of insults and flack heading this films direction in a few weeks, yet it shouldn’t necessarily be accounted for. The Beach Bum is something so vile and provocative. You could use virtually any word from the English language to categorize this film based on perspective. It’s ignorant bliss that I applaud for it’s effort of never failing to boost a smile on my face—especially as I exited the auditorium. It’ll be unruly received by people far too extensively. However, it’s refreshing for anyone who’s down for an hour and a half of sinful debauchery and wholehearted stoner antics. Also always remember, sometimes you gotta go low to get high.

Overall Grade: A

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