Netflix Holiday Movie Review: Single All the Way (2021)

Like putting new lenses in a beloved old pair of glasses, this week's sharply written, sweet-natured gay Netflix holiday romcom gives us a fresh look at a familiar genre.

Wisely and earnestly leaning into the tropes of a Christmas romance, in the quick-witted charmer “Single All the Way,” screenwriter Chad Hodge (who created one of my favorite little-seen TV shows of the late 2010s in “Good Behavior”) wins us over with his sincere affection for the films he's using as a jumping-off point.

To this end, when we first meet our adorable yet perpetually unlucky in love protagonist Peter (Michael Urie), he's disappointed once again after another short-lived romance goes down in flames. As tired of working on social media ad campaigns in Los Angeles as he is being single, when Peter begins making plans to visit his family in New Hampshire for the holidays, he ropes his oldest friend and roommate Nick (Philemon Chambers) into coming home with him and posing as his new boyfriend.

Not wanting to lie to a family that's come to mean almost as much to him as Peter, Nick begrudgingly goes along with Peter's plan. However, just when you think you've seen this movie before, almost as soon as they arrive at his parent's house, a wrench is thrown into the proceedings by Peter's jubilant mother Carole (Kathy Najimy). 

Appearing on the scene with her newest homemade sign “Sleigh Queen,” before Peter and Nick can deliver their white lie, Carole decides to play another one of the romcom genre's greatest hits by happily announcing that she's set her son up on a blind date with her hunky spin instructor James (Luke Macfarlane).



But while his mom is content to try to craft a new romance for her son (like it's just one of the many signs she gives as gifts and hangs throughout the home), the rest of his family decides it's time to bring Peter and Nick together once and for all. Sensing not only their obvious chemistry but perhaps the lingering looks sent Peter's way by Nick, Peter's father (Barry Bostwick) and nieces make it their holiday mission to make this vital love connection. Gradually, they bring an amused, if torn, Nick into the fold.

Whether you're a devotee of the endless holiday romcoms produced by the Hallmark Channel or Lifetime every year, or your favorites are the classics like “The Shop Around the Corner,” and Christmas in Connecticut,” etc., or you stick with the treacly yet wicked wit of British comedies like “Bridget Jones's Diary” or “Love Actually,” romance fans know precisely where this film is headed almost as soon as it starts.

Yet rather than run from the genre conventions we routinely see in these traditionally straight romances, “Single All the Way” uses them as vibrant, positive building blocks to show that love is love, family is family, and it's both all relative and universal. Proving this, it layers in a variety of beloved romcom mainstays from its small-town setting (as Peter wonders if he should move back home) and a friends to lovers plotline to a dance number (to Britney, bitch!) and romantic hijinks care of quirky relatives, including an obligatory scene where the two leads must share a bed. 

Along the way, "Single" incorporates an amusing, if undercooked subplot involving a community Christmas pageant called “Jesus H. Christ” that's the brainchild of Peter's colorful Aunt Sandy, who's played by Jennifer Coolidge. Much like Najimy gives the film a needed shot of candy-cane-coated adrenaline as soon as we see her, with her warmth, humor, and vivacity, veteran Christopher Guest scene-stealer Coolidge buoys her part of the film, which, unfortunately, plays like a rushed afterthought.

Guided by a steady hand, “Single All the Way” was helmed by the versatile Michael Mayer, who directed the moving, gorgeously acted but woefully underseen adaptation of “A Home at the End of the World,” as well as the excellent “Flicka” and “The Seagull.” Mayer knows how to work with actors and it shows. 

With so much - at times, too much - going on throughout, although it's easy to predict that of course, Peter will end up with Nick, “Single All the Way” is a loving, spirited ensemble film that never runs out of plot. Tonally, as sunny and bright as the visuals are snowy and cozy, and filled with terrific turns by a talented cast that's ready for anything (including “Schitt's Creek” star Jennifer Robertson), as someone who watches a lot of these films, “Single All the Way,” greatly exceeded my expectations.

Succeeding where last year's well-intentioned, star-studded, but ultimately disappointing Hulu film “Happiest Season” failed, while I'm speaking merely as a straight film critic, it feels truly rewarding and vital for audiences to see an LGBTQ holiday romantic comedy that doesn't make coming out or lying to one's family the main character's entire narrative arc. Similarly fighting against other gay movie tropes where its protagonist desperately wants to escape their small town and go to the big city or make their parents understand their lifestyle, it's refreshing instead to see Bostwick and Najimy scheme and plan to get their son happily coupled up.

By making the sexuality of its characters secondary to everything else going on, "Single All the Way" cleverly sidesteps the need for any moral speechifying that would pull us out of the storyline and ring false. Respecting our maturity and intellect right from the start, Mayer's film counts on its audience to have already come to the realization that we all deserve love, not to mention contemporary, clear-eyed, re-framed romantic movies for one and all that are this heartfelt, genuine, and fun.

 

Text ©2021, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com  Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  Also, as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made off my site through ad links. FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Netflix Holiday Movie Review: “A Boy Called Christmas” (2021) & “A Castle for Christmas” (2021)

The Netflix equivalent of putting up your Christmas tree and/or starting your holiday shopping the day after Thanksgiving, this year, the streaming service's version of Black Friday comes in two new high profile, high caliber Christmas movies which are scheduled to premiere on Friday, November 26.

Inspired by the question “was Father Christmas ever a boy?” which was posed by author Matt Haig's son, the first film, from “Monster House” director Gil Kenan, is a gorgeously crafted, old-fashioned fairytale adaptation of Haig's bestselling 2015 British children's book “A Boy Called Christmas.”

Tonally a cross between C.S. Lewis, Hans Christian Andersen, Charles Dickens, J.K. Rowling, and Roald Dahl in its balance of darkness, magic, heart, and light, Kenan's film begins with a framing device straight out of “The Princess Bride.”Arriving at their home late at night, a great aunt played by the irreplaceable Maggie Smith tells the tale of the brave boy we'll all eventually know as Father Christmas to her young relatives at bedtime. Next, switching to a different time and place, we move away from contemporary London as Smith's fable starts to play out before our eyes.

Still reeling from the loss of his mother, which is something shared by the characters in the modern setting as well, “Christmas” chronicles the plight of Nikolas (portrayed by top-notch relative newcomer Henry Lawfull). Fearing for the safety of the sole parent he has left (Michiel Huisman), Nikolas sets out on a perilous journey to the north to find his dad when he fails to return from his search for the village of Elfhelm in order to bring hope to us all.  

Populated by a who's who of great character actors, including Sally Hawkins, Kristen Wiig, Jim Broadbent, Toby Jones, and Stephen Merchant (priceless here as the voice of Miika the Mouse), the film looks and sounds like a dream, thanks to the effects team and production designer behind the “Paddington” movies, and a lovely score courtesy of the great Dario Marianelli. Additionally, it's fun to see the actors let loose, particularly Hawkins and Wiig who relish their Wicked Witch-like moments to eat up the screen. 

The type of film you could leave on in the background when you make cookies or put up your tree, while it's easy to lose yourself in the snowy spectacle of it all, disappointingly from a narrative standpoint, “A Boy Called Christmas” runs out of steam quickly. With episodic plot points, as the indefatigable, ever-determined, delightful Lawfull encounters one new character or problem after another in a by-the-numbers fashion, it grows increasingly repetitive as it continues on.

Although I am unfamiliar with the source material, I can't help but ask if perhaps its error might be an early “Harry Potter” franchise-style case of staying far too faithful to the book. Needless to say, of course, young fans of Haig's novel are sure to love seeing every moment come to life. For the rest of us, however, despite some beautiful revelations that come to light near the end of the movie, its muddled second act makes it feel twice as long as the first, and I think most viewers who don't know Haig's novel will grow restless as soon as the storyline begins to wander.

Still, from the jaw-dropping 4k presentation where even the opening sequence of Smith walking down a light-filled city street feels painterly (and indeed I wondered but really didn't care if it was CG), “A Boy Called Christmas” is a stellar technical achievement from these talented craftsmen, even if it doesn't fully work for me as a film overall. Not nearly as successful as “Monster House” or Kenan's wonderful adaptation of “City of Ember,” (of which I might be the only fan and still wish for a sequel), he's such a great director that regardless of the film's shortcomings, I look forward to seeing what he'll do next.

Incidentally, it turns out that looking forward is exactly what romance author Sophie Brown (Brooke Shields) realizes she needs to do at the start of director Mary Lambert's picturesque holiday romcom travelogue “A Castle for Christmas.” 

Whereas “A Boy Called Christmas” was made for the kids, “A Castle for Christmas” is Netflix's present for teens and adults. It comes in the form of a fun, fluffy, snowflake light hybrid of the kinds of seasonal romances that Lifetime and the Hallmark Channel produce with alarming frequency and the sassier UK romcoms that Hugh Grant made popular back in the '90s. 

Centered on Shields' Brown, the plot of "Castle" is incredibly straightforward.  Having killed off the romantic hero of her dozen bestselling novels after a messy divorce, Sophie Brown incurs the wrath of her heartbroken legion of fans who want their dream man back. In desperate need of a change of scenery, she journeys to Scotland to not only hide out and write the next book in her popular Emma Gale romance series but also visit the castle that her late father loved while growing up as the son of the groundskeeper there. 

Having barely arrived in her new surroundings, Sophie finds new friends quickly when she joins the knitting club in the pub of the inn where she's staying. The same dynamic we encountered in Netflix's outstanding (and much more substantive) adaptation of the acclaimed novel “The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society," in “Castle,” the scenes that producer-star Shields shares with her motley knitting crew are absolutely delightful.

Still, as the romance author she's portraying here knows, you can't have a love story without a male lead, and thankfully, for that we have Cary Elwes getting his scowl on as the sour, curmudgeon-like Duke of said castle, who eventually melts under Sophie's charms.

Phenomenally predictable to anyone who's ever seen a romantic comedy before, while the pair are excellent in their roles, Sheilds and Elwes' chemistry does leave a little something to be desired, although that's likely more the fault of their underdeveloped characters than the actors in question, who aren't given a whole lot with which to work.

One of those movies where the credits reveal that it was written by a committee of four different writers, it feels like certain screenwriters were hoping to emphasize the knitting club as well as develop a potential B or C romantic subplot, and others were more clearly focused on the castle angle. All in all, it's a bumpy yet nonetheless, above-average cheery holiday romance.

Featuring a welcome cameo by Drew Barrymore that bookends the film as she first appears in a slightly cringeworthy over-the-top introduction to Sophie Brown who loses it live on Barrymore's talk show (which Shields plays too broadly), Barrymore returns at the end during the final credits in a very funny two-hander between the two women.

Targeted to Gen X, it's ideally suited to those from the era who grew up watching Shields and Barrymore, were dazzled by Lambert's iconic Madonna music video “Like a Prayer,” and frightened by her adaptation of “Pet Semetary,” and fell in love with “Castle” leading man Cary Elwes in “The Princess Bride.” And indeed, Netflix is smart to aim for this demographic. 

Usually overlooked in seasonal fare that's often developed with late teens and early twenty-somethings in mind, “A Castle for Christmas” is just the pleasantly diverting, if ultimately forgettable thing to settle in with after you spend Thanksgiving in the kitchen and Black Friday setting up that tree and/or starting to shop. With so much holiday stress on the horizon, 'tis the season for snowy movies after all.

Text ©2021, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com  Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  Also, as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made off my site through ad links. FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Netflix Movie Review: The Guilty (2021)

Arriving 10/1 on Netflix

If you haven’t seen “The Guilty,” you should see “The Guilty.” Let me try this again. If you’ve seen “The Guilty,” you might like “The Guilty.” No, that’s still not quite right. It might help if I tell you that there are two versions of “The Guilty.” There’s the original 2018 Danish film from director Gustav Möller, which was one of the year’s very best movies, and then there’s the new American remake directed by Antoine Fuqua, which debuted last week in theatres in selected cities and will arrive on Netflix on October 1.

Knowing this, I'm sure you can probably guess which of the two pictures I prefer because that's usually the way it goes with remakes of foreign films that frequently lose something vital in the English translation (just like all too often, the book is better than the movie). Of course, there are definite exceptions to this, but in the case of “The Guilty,” it isn't enough just to say that, yes, as predicted, the original version of the film is far superior to the American remake.

Because as a work, it is utterly dependent upon a few major plot revelations that slowly and methodically unfurl over the course of its very stressful roughly ninety-minute running time, since Fuqua's “The Guilty” adheres very closely to Möller's own film, the version you see first might just dictate which one you prefer. 

Set over the course of a very long night in a 911 emergency call center in Los Angeles, as Fuqua's film opens, we meet a police officer who has been temporarily reassigned during an investigation into some sort of conduct violation that we learn more about later on.

In the midst of L.A.'s fire season where the calls are coming in hot and the air is so smoky and polluted that it's exacerbating his asthma something fierce, Jake Gyllenhaal's Joe answers incoming distress calls with the same degree of breathless disdain, cynicism, and entitlement with which he used to patrol the city's streets. Whether it's people requesting help because they took too much speed or were robbed by a hooker (both incidents play out exactly as in the original), Joe counts down the minutes until his hearing the next day, after which he hopes to get off the phones and go back on the beat. However, suddenly, a call comes in that does the unthinkable; it makes Joe not only care but also get very involved.

A woman's (Riley Keough) voice comes in on the line speaking to Joe as though he were her child. But before he disconnects from what he assumes is a wrong number, something in the timbre of her voice stops him. Shaky, tear-filled, and in a state of panic she's trying to hide, when he hears a man (Peter Sarsgaard) ask her who she's talking to, Joe starts piecing together the narrative that she's been abducted by her husband by asking the woman yes or no questions only.

Barely able to sit still in his chair – his jittery hand forever fondling his inhaler because he knows it's only a matter of time before he runs out of breath once again – he becomes a cop again before our eyes. Demanding help from the California Highway Patrol and others who are inundated by fire, crises, and crime calls of their own, Joe tries to route squads to pull over a white van traveling eastbound on the I-10 and also send cars to her home to check on these children that she keeps talking about.

Getting even more frantic when they get disconnected and she doesn't answer the phone, he calls her home to talk to her young daughter who helps Joe fill in a few more blanks. Rather than be the first one out the door from his final shift, he abruptly refuses to leave until he sees this case through to the end. Restrained by legal red tape, jurisdictional issues, and bureaucracy, Joe eventually goes into an isolated room, closes the blinds, and devotes the rest of the film's running time to trying to bring Keough's Emily Lighton home safely.

That old macho rage at a forefront – for reasons both good and bad – he makes a request to his loyal sergeant (voiced by Ethan Hawke) to go and kick some doors in when the more he hears and uncovers about Emily, the more alarmed he becomes. But is he really listening or is he working out his own personal issues with regret as a father in the midst of marital strife? Is he fighting to save Emily or himself?

Both versions of “The Guilty” serve as a reminder that whenever one interacts with emergency services in the form of police, fire, or paramedics, it's on one of the worst days of our lives. Communication, as the works reveal, is at the forefront of our experience, and limits are placed on what gets conveyed, understood, the authority figure's abilities to help (read: not hurt), and whatever they're going through on their own as well.

Where the two works differ greatly is in terms of their approach. Subtle, whittled down, and respectful enough of the audience's intelligence not to give us a lot of overt messages, excuses, spell everything out, or punctuate every new revelation with an intrusive score, Möller's “The Guilty” is masterful in the way it slowly builds to its unbearably tense conclusion. 

In stark contrast, anyone who's seen a film by Antoine Fuqua (“Training Day,” “Southpaw,” “Olympus Has Fallen,” etc.) knows that subtlety is not his strong suit. The new "Guilty" is utterly overstuffed, both with the baggage of Joe and the gravity of America in the present moment. Filled with symbolism, from the fires raging outside and internally in Joe to that damn inhaler, and punctuated with cacophonous sound to drive his points home via a score that “tells” you what and how to feel, "The Guilty" is a lot to absorb without a headache. Also, it's loaded with explanations for behavior that in some ways augment the film by commenting on the problems faced in our country and in others, just play like speechifying sound bites.

Whereas the original film (which Gyllenhaal first saw at Sundance in 2018 and knew immediately he wanted to remake) was content to let the battles within his dynamic main character come to the forefront as needed and often in his micro-expressions or through actor Jakob Cedergren's eyes, the new version makes our lead much more vocal, demonstrative, and unhinged. One of the strongest American actors of his generation, Gyllenhaal is more than up to the task to bring humanity to what is largely a one-man show, save for the remarkable contributions by members of its vocal cast, including Keough, Sarsgaard, Hawke, Paul Dano, and others.

But while the film goes big when it should go little, its tendency to push to the extreme lessens as it continues, when Fuqua, his cinematographer, and editor pull back slightly, and Gyllenhaal dials the bravado down several notches. As someone who grew up around cops, let me be the first to say that they most definitely have a Cop Voice, Cop Manner, and Cop Behavior. And just like when someone gets out of the military, it takes some time for them to leave that behind and just assimilate with the rest of us, Fuqua – who's made many movies dealing with this very thing as both director and producer – understands this well. Gyllenhaal's Joe learns to modulate his voice and behavior the longer he's on the phone with Emily and the film is better for it.

Still, though, the first chunk of his “Guilty,” which was written by “True Detective”'s Nic Pizzolatto (though by their own admission somewhat rewritten by Fuqua and Gyllenhaal), plays like a dropped character and subplot that was edited out of “Training Day.” Far more of an extreme contrast than we truly need as Joe evolves over the course of the movie, as I watched this one, I kept thinking of not only the original Danish production but also Steven Knight's brilliant UK movie “Locke,” from 2013 as well.

Truly a one-man show in terms of actors on the screen, in Knight's film, we see Tom Hardy's character answer a phone call on a drive home that changes everything for him. Something as simple as which direction he's going to go and what he's going to do next has life-altering stakes, and just like in both versions of “The Guilty,” made a few years later, the film's drama comes from his interactions with others whose voices we hear on the other end of his various calls.

Shot in real-time as Hardy made the same drive each night and went through the same emotional drama only a handful of times as if it were a play, both versions of “The Guilty,” were shot similarly. Yet instead of just letting it play out real-time over 90 minutes with Hardy in a car and the cameras ready to go the whole time, both “Guilty” productions were completed in shoots ranging from 11 (Fuqua) to 13 (Möller) days. But by focusing less on manufacturing drama and more on letting it play out on its own, both “Locke” and the original version of “The Guilty” work so much better with far less artifice than the 2021 rendition of the latter.

In the end, of course, Fuqua's film might still be worth watching if you liked Möller's original “Guilty" and are curious what the new incarnation might look like Americanized, with all of these gifted actors, and with the volume turned way, way up. But if you've never pressed play on the original, I'd highly recommend seeing both "Locke" and “The Guilty” before you see “The Guilty,” to see how to tell the story of a man on a phone at a crossroads in his life right.

Text ©2021, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com  Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  Also, as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made off my site through ad links. FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Netflix Movie Review: Love, Guaranteed (2020)

Like a recipe for sugar cookies that you follow and enjoy, despite finding it in every single cookbook you come across, the ingredients for contemporary romantic comedies have become so easily identifiable that even those who don't follow the genre very closely can break down each element as if separating the liquids from the powders.

Of course, this isn't always a bad thing. Much like cookies, there's nothing like a delectable dessert-like rom-com to bring a smile to your face. Yet sometimes what we're left with feels less like an overall confection than it does just a handful of ingredients that taste great individually but don't work all that well together. And when it comes to Netflix's latest comedy about love, this is precisely what happened.  

Looking to stack the deck with an adorably daffy rom-com premise – partially conceived by its affable leading lady Rachael Leigh Cook – and a script penned by genre veterans Hilary Galanoy and Elizabeth Hackett, the film revolves around a man (played by Damon Wayans Jr.) who sues his online dating service because it hasn't made good on its promise to deliver “Love, Guaranteed.”

Having failed to make a romantic connection in nearly a thousand dates, which would've left most men physically and emotionally exhausted as well as incredibly broke, Wayans Jr.'s inexplicably independently wealthy physical therapist Nick hires Cook's idealistic civil litigator to take on the dating service run by Heather Graham's clueless lifestyle guru.

Even without the witty repartee of a sparkling legal comedy like “Adam's Rib,” fueled by Wayans Jr. and Cook's genuinely charming chemistry, these elements alone could've easily led to a fun, if predictably formulaic, Hallmark Channel level rom-com. But in "Love, Guaranteed," Galanoy, Hackett, and, as evidenced by the production notes, Cook and director Mark Steven Johnson, kept filling the pot with new ideas.

And while one – based on a true incident in Cook's life where she became so disturbed by the miscarriage of justice in “The Fugitive” as a young girl that she had to stop watching – is introduced in the film to hilarious effect (but then never develops into anything more), another idea from Johnson wears on viewers' nerves right away.

Similar to the way that on TV's “Stumptown,” actress Cobie Smulders' character Dex drives an old car with a broken tape deck that plays the same '80s cassette over and over again, in “Love, Guaranteed,” Cook's Susan drives an old orange rust bucket that spontaneously plays Tiffany's “I Think We're Alone Now” repeatedly at will. As a woman roughly Cook's age in real life who also remembers Tiffany in the '80s, this sounds comically winning in theory but by the time we watch Cook have an over-the-top romantic breakdown in the car to Tiffany's song, we have long been ready to hit the mute button whenever we hear its opening notes.

From not understanding that people lie on their online profiles to being thoroughly unfamiliar with most dating behavior in the 21st century, as warm and wonderful as Cook is, Susan feels almost less real than Nick's physical therapist who's able to blow tens of thousand dollars on bad dates and also somehow works for free by donating his time. Still, a much better character than her stereotypical co-workers (a flirtatious gay guy and a generic gal pal), besides her scenes with Wayans Jr., Cook's best moments are the ones that her character shares with her pregnant sister who lives in the condo next door.

Less successful than last year's similarly gimmicky but much sweeter Netflix rom-com “Falling Inn Love” penned by Galanoy and Hackett, this film doesn't work nearly as well as a majority of the made-for-TV rom-coms crafted with assembly-line efficiency on The Hallmark Channel, including those that have starred “Love” producer and actress Cook.

Counting at least three toilet references in the first act alone, which, although never explicitly gross just don't really go with the otherwise warm, sophisticated world those behind-the-scenes are trying to create, “Love, Guaranteed,” is never quite certain just what kind of romantic comedy it truly wants to be.

Established early on, one recurring gag in the movie is that Nick – who has weirdly kept diligent notes on every single date that went wrong – has named each bad match he's endured as though they're rejected episodes of TV's “Friends.” And while Susan might be “the one I didn't see coming,” according to Nick, unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the film. 

Following the recipe we know by heart to a “T” before trying to spice things up by sprinkling in numerous other ingredients that just don't blend well together, if this movie were a date, I'd probably dub it, “the one I wish I would've fallen more in like with (but really should've been rewritten).” 

Text ©2020, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com  Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  Also, as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made off my site through ad links. FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Netflix Movie Review: I'm Thinking of Ending Things (2020)

Writer-director Charlie Kaufman's “I'm Thinking of Ending Things,” begins with the words “I'm thinking of ending things.” Spoken in voice-over by the unnamed female protagonist (Jessie Buckley) at the center of the surrealist helmer's third feature film, in the lines that follow, we quickly deduce that she's pondering taking not her own life but herself out of her sparks-free relationship with the otherwise nice, unassuming Jake (Jesse Plemons), whom she's dated for seven weeks. 

Resigned to taking a road trip with the man nonetheless, the two embark on an unusual journey home to meet his parents (Toni Collette and David Thewlis) at the farmhouse where he was raised. The couple is as polite as they are awkward with one another. Misreading each other's signals and on different wavelengths about not only their relationship but everything else as well, they have parallel arguments that only occasionally intersect.

Colliding most notably when he cajoles her into sharing one of her poems, Buckley's soulful recitation of the complex, deeply affecting “Bone Dog” by Eva H.D. (which is presented as though she wrote it) is one of the high points of the movie. Touching on certain themes and elements that recur throughout the film, the seductive sequence engages us completely. 

Yet even before Jake responds by saying that he identified with the piece and felt like she was writing it about him, the antennae of any literature majors and film buffs watching is already up, listening and digesting Buckley's words as a bit of self-conscious signposting or foreshadowing about their journey ahead. Knowing this, of course, the erudite Kaufman treats the poem like a tease and one that's as much about their quest to go home to meet his parents as it is just the first of many pieces of art, music, film, literature, culture, and criticism references to eventually follow.

“I'm Thinking of Ending Things” returns once again to the same questions of whether or not we are what we do and/or consume that have plagued Kaufman from the beginning of his career. Evidenced in his brilliant existential screenplays for “Being John Malkovich” when its characters were most themselves in the body of another or the charge that Kate Winslet's manic pixie dream girl in his script for “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” relied on hair dye to compose her personality, all of these ideas get filtered into “Ending Things” to positive and negative effect.

Inserting a faux romantic film (fictionally directed by Robert Zemeckis) in the second act of the movie before its plot and characters spill over into the personalities of our young couple, Kaufman goes a bit further later on. Using a more subtle approach in the film's intentionally maddening second half, the pair debate and momentarily seem to embody the leads from “A Woman Under the Influence,” as well as Pauline Kael's review of the Cassavetes classic in a blistering sequence.

A poet in the car who becomes a painter in the house but also a college student studying quantum physics and a waitress, just as the biographical elements of Buckley's “young woman” change in Kaufman's film so does everything else, including the ages of both of our protagonists as well as his enigmatic, affable, yet slightly creepy parents. Then again, I should probably put the word parents in quotations because while we're initially led to believe that Collette and Thewlis are playing the parents of Jake, an argument could also be made that they're not.

In fact, that's the main thrust of this movie overall. We're never quite sure if we're seeing things the way they are or if these are daydreams or shifts backward or forward in time. The latter, we find, is explicitly referenced in the dialogue at one point and taps right back into the issue of quantum physics. 

(Over six hundred words in and I'm probably no closer to describing or making sense of the film that has still stayed with me since I screened it, but moving on...) 

Playing like a magical realism version of “Our Town” as directed by Federico Fellini, “I'm Thinking of Ending Things” is a stream-of-consciousness movie that grows more unwieldy as it continues. Weaving in ballet in just one of a handful of sequences inspired by “Oklahoma,” Charlie Kaufman's film, which was adapted from the acclaimed novel by Iain Reid, is unquestionably enhanced by having seen not only Kaufman's “Synecdoche New York” (which I really didn't like) and “Anomalisa” (which I really did) but the films he wrote for other directors as well.

In my eyes, he's at his best when he lets others – including Spike Jonze and Michel Gondry – interpret his mad artistic visions in such a way that, as dizzying and dense as they are, they become far more universal in scope. Without this vital human filter of another creative mind behind the camera, there's something about Kaufman's work as a director that keeps most mainstream audiences at not just an arm but the state of Oklahoma's length away. 

It's telling that of the three films I've seen that he's made, it's “Anomalisa,” which he shared directorial duties with Duke Johnson, that I liked the best. Perhaps needing that valuable cinematic translator or just someone who can take a look at his work and pare some of it down to only what is absolutely essential, the more he packs into the otherwise mostly excellent “I'm Thinking of Ending Things,” the messier it becomes. Still, as a treatise on relationships, aging, identity, and mortality, Kaufman's latest is far more relatable, in my eyes, than “Synecdoche New York,” which I actually watched again to prepare for this review and was disappointed to see that I still dislike. 

In addition to his many existential obsessions, which manifest in the strangest of ways throughout his work, however, one constant in every single one of Kaufman's films as both a screenwriter and director is that they're brought to life by an extraordinary cast. “I'm Thinking of Ending Things” (which arrives on Netflix on September 4) is no exception to this rule and features dynamic turns by all of its leads, most notably Buckley and Plemons.

A movie you'll undoubtedly want to discuss with others if, that is, you manage to make it all the way through since it was even a challenge for me (and I was hugely on board with it for at least the first 90 minutes), “I'm Thinking of Ending Things” should have ended things a little sooner than its 134-minute running time.

There's an old adage that because we all approach things differently and with our own experiences, attitudes, and backgrounds, that no two of us ever truly “sees” the same film. This movie proves that philosophy true better than any academy essay ever could. At the same time, it also seems to use it as a challenge to not only ensure that we all see something different in the same metatextual heavy text but also reminds us that what we think of something at one time might not be the same belief we have just five minutes later. In the end, it's all a matter of physics after all.  

Text ©2020, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com  Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  Also, as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made off my site through ad links. FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Movie Review - To All the Boys: P.S. I Still Love You (2020)

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AKA: To All the Boys 2; To All the Boys I've Loved Before 2

Told by his biology teacher — just before dissection — that the octopus set before him has not one but three hearts, high school junior Peter Kavinsky (Noah Centineo) leans over the table, scalpel in hand, but can't make the cut. Handing the knife to his girlfriend and lab partner, Lara Jean Covey (Lana Condor), Peter lets her take control.

Understanding that whichever way she slices, at least one of those hearts will break, in a perfect metaphor for the love triangle our To All the Boys I've Loved Before heroine finds herself in in the sequel P.S. I Still Love You, Lara Jean knows that sooner or later, she'll have to decide.

Nervous and excited to begin her first real relationship with her formerly fake boyfriend Peter Kavinsky, at the start of P.S. I Still Love You, the two go on their first official date and promise never to break each other's hearts. Unfortunately, it doesn't take long for their vow to be put to the test.

Wrongly assuming that she'd endured all of the fallout from her kid sister mailing her childhood love letters to her five biggest crushes (which comprised the first film's plot), Lara Jean is stunned to receive a reply from her sixth grade love, John Ambrose McClaren (Jordan Fisher). A flattered and flattering letter, John Ambrose's words stir up long dormant feelings she hadn't thought about since she was eleven years old.

Yet while the letter he wrote her is conflicting enough — especially since Lara Jean assumed that her love for Peter would make her immune to anyone else's charms — it's nothing compared to the butterflies she gets when, of all the senior living centers in all the world, John Ambrose walks into hers.

Volunteering at the senior residence after school, as opposed to all of the cool kids (like Peter) fulfilling their eleventh grade requirement goofing off at the local market, Lara Jean is so shocked when she comes face-to-face with the charismatic young man that she knocks over a candy dish and trips on a floor full of skittles.

Once the two begin working alongside one another, they fall into their old rhythm as if no time has passed at all. Soon she's placed in the precarious position of lying by omission — at least a little bit — to each of the boys growing more and more attracted to her every day, while she figures things out. Torn by both, although she's far more intellectually compatible with the sensitive, studious, equally nerdy John Ambrose than the popular Lacrosse player and hearthrob Peter, Lara Jean's boyfriend brings out her fun, playful side like nobody else.

Missing her mother now more than ever — and threatened by Peter's closeness with his ex-girlfriend and her ex childhood best friend, Genevieve (Emilija Baranac) — Lara Jean tries her best to navigate her feelings of insecurity, attraction, confusion, and love in this heartfelt adaptation of the second book in Jenny Han's bestselling trilogy.

Directed and shot by the first film's talented cinematographer Michael Fimognari in his feature filmmaking debut, P.S. I Still Love You opens with a homage to Adventures in Babysitting. Paying tribute to the '80s teen movies our heroine loves, perhaps because they remind her of her mom, the film keeps the feeling of nostalgia alive with a soundtrack full of cover versions of Gen X's most popular songs.

A gorgeously rendered production lensed with color printer cartridge bright punches of magenta, yellow, and cyan that swirl together as Lara Jean experiences the various shades of love, while P.S. maintains the cozy vibe of the first film, its look evolves right along with our protagonist.

In one of four visually dazzling sequences (which also includes what appears to be Spike Lee style double dolly shot), the palette deepens to explore sea green and midnight blue. The shades come to exquisite life in an emotionally charged scene set inside an aquarium when, much like the octopus, Lara Jean realizes she's linked to two hearts as well as her own.

Benefiting not only from the natural chemistry of Condor and Centineo — which is stronger in this film — but also the addition of the charming Fisher along with scene-stealer Holland Taylor as an advice-giving retired Pan Am "showgirl of the sky," the energy and warmth of the Love You's affable cast generates true sparks.

More easily upbeat than this contemplative, introspective sequel where we worry about her breaking the boys' hearts as well as her own, while the romcom-ready plot machinations of the first film make it my favorite entry of the Lara Jean saga so far, there's still a lot of joy to be found in this one.

Refreshingly wholesome, unlike some of the mixed messages served up in '80s teen comedies, P.S. offers a positive portrayal of burgeoning hormones and teen sexuality, which Lara Jean addresses by blurting out where she stands on the matter with hilarious results. Produced with care by Jenny Han, To All the Boys remains that rare film series that parents can feel not only safe but eager for their children to watch.

A stellar production with standout cinematography, which makes sense considering its Fimognari's strong suit (he'll pull double duty in the final film as well), To All the Boys screenwriter Sofia Alvarez adapted Han's young adult novel once again, along with P.S. newcomer J. Mills Goodloe.

The latest in a long line of above average female-centric romantic comedy served up by Netflix over the past two years, while it's hard to see our favorite young couple hit the rocks in this second installment of three, P.S. I Still Love You reminds us that sometimes it takes three hearts to find the right beat . . . or an octopus.

Related:

Read the Original Review - 
To All the Boys I've Loved Before

Text ©2020, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com  Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  Also, as an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made off my site through ad links. FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information in order to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Netflix Movie Review: Tall Girl (2019)

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Whether it's the way you laugh too loud when you're nervous, stammer when you're shy, or seem to forget everything you've ever studied when you're handed a test, everyone has at least one thing that they wish they could change about themselves. And while most of us have figured out how to cope with or adapt to this perceived flaw as adults, there's nothing like high school to magnify these insecurities even more and doubly so when the thing we wish we could change about ourselves is something physical.

In nearly six foot two inch sixteen-year-old Jodi's case, although a simple search on the internet reveals that there is such a thing as height reduction surgery, the excruciatingly painful procedure isn't exactly a practical solution for the New Orleans high school junior played by Ava Michelle. Hoping for the same effect, she tries slouching her way into invisibility to avoid all of the snickers, stares, and inane comments by classmates who ask her how the weather is up there, even though that line is older than the Civil War battles she reads about in her American history textbook.

Establishing the theme, first as she describes the alienation experienced by the main character in A Confederacy of Dunces to a classmate and then in her voice-over narration, Jodi serves as an pleasant, immediately relatable stand-in for any hangup the viewer might have about themselves. However, as well drawn as the three-dimensional Jodi is, the rest of the film's characters are thinly sketched caricatures of retro teen movie archetypes by comparison.

And this is evident right from the start as we meet her fiercest supporters including the fashionably hip Fareeda (Anjelika Washington) who puts bullies in their place with one well spun line and the Duckie inspired Jack Dunkleman (played by scene stealer Griffin Gluck) who's had a crush on Jodi for as long as Kimmy (Clara Wilsey) has tormented her since they were children. Suffice it to say that, despite the affability of the actors bringing them to life, everyone in Tall Girl's orbit seems like they've wandered over from film sets of decades gone by, which basically makes them the "how's the weather up there?" of teen movie characters.

Although screenwriter Sam Wolfson tries to update the proceedings with escape rooms and gluten free bakeries, it feels mostly stale. Inconsistent in its characterization as it undercuts Jodi's mom (Angela Kinsey) as a passive aggressive prom queen and makes her dad (Steve Zahn) a hyper focused alarmist waiting for his tall daughter's health to fail in their earliest scenes before they mellow into almost entirely different people later on, it's to Kinsey and Zahn's credit that we remain interested in their roles.

While it's refreshing to make Jodi's beautiful pageant perfect older sister Harper (Sabrina Carpenter) so supportive of her "big little sister" instead of making her another object of misery in Jodi's life, with Harper's laughable grasp of history and pleas that Jodi should slap her if she eats carbs, she quickly turns into yet another stereotype.

Hopeful when Stig (Luke Eisner), a dreamy Swedish exchange student arrives who's even taller than she is, Jodi experiences her first serious crush and turns to Harper for help attracting the boy who's staying with Dunkleman. Pursuing Jodi in very different ways to differing degrees of success, Eisner and Gluck play off each other very well and share some unexpectedly funny, awkward scenes in the process. Things get even more complicated when her nemesis Kimmy sets her sights on and lands the handsome Swede, but when the two find they have a musical connection, the first of several love triangles develops.

Unwisely relegating Jodi's best friend Fareeda to extra status as the film goes on when some of the makeover scenes with Carpenter and Kinsey might've benefited from a young comedic buffer as opposed to the requisite mini dressing room montage and a lame in-film ad for Mac Cosmetics, it's clear that the film just doesn't know how to make adequate use of its lively ensemble. Not the only gimmicky scene, Tall Girl features a cringe-worthy moment where Jodi's parents host a Tip Toppers tall person's club party that goes nowhere. Likewise, infusing the film with a questionable message where each time Jodi starts to have confidence, it's inspired by a guy either finding her attractive or doing something selfless for her, by the time we reach the obligatory Mean Girls reminiscent big moment at the dance where our heroine literally tells us what she's learned, it doesn't seem remotely genuine or earned.

Still entertaining enough to watch in bed on a sick day or up late at a sleepover, despite Tall Girl's wholly original main character with whom many viewers will easily identify thanks to their own hangups, it's one of Netflix's weakest original YA romcoms. Taking a backseat to the streaming giant favorite To All the Boys I've Loved Before, Tall Girl also pales in comparison to the similarly themed, infinitely better structured (and likewise '80s inspired) Sierra Burgess is a Loser.

Yet with the color blocked background on display in Tall Girl's opening frames as Jodi discusses Dunces, the keen visual eye of first time feature filmmaker Nzingha Stewart makes for some truly memorable scenes that keep our interest even when the film itself starts to meander.

A romcom loving tall girl myself (and one who — just shy of six feet — was actually taller than her male first grade teacher when she was in the first grade), needless to say, I was easily the ideal audience for the film. Unfortunately, no matter how much I wished otherwise, in the end the Netflix movie plays like a version of teen movie Cliffs Notes where everything stays on the surface and, save for one moving scene with Steve Zahn, never gets too deep.

Though Tall Girl comes up short — to use a criticism that's sure to be the critic's version of "how's the weather up there," — it's still an admirable attempt to walk a mile in a sixteen-year-old girl's size thirteen men's shoes. Bolstered by a charming cast, while it's obvious that the film's heart is in the right place, unfortunately, Girl needs more authenticity and less artifice to make it count.

Text ©2019, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information in order to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.

Movie Review: Falling Inn Love (2019)

Now Available on Netflix 

Clicking a link in an unsolicited email is enough to give you pause. Being asked to use your credit card to pay for the chance to win an inn on the other side of the world is when most people would probably press delete.

Not so for Christina Milian's Gabriela Diaz, who — buoyed by wine as well as the loss of her job and her boyfriend in the span of a week — is ready to take a risk. Taking a chance not only on the contest but also a plane and three buses, Gabriela journeys to New Zealand upon learning that her one in a million shot paid off.

Paid, however, is the optimal word as Gabriela discovers when she arrives to find the inn falling down. A veritable money pit that's occupied by a goat as well as its earlier owner in the form of a ghost, Gabriela realizes that she'll have to max out her credit cards if she has any hope of matching the inn to the sparkling profile picture that first inspired her to click.

Applying for an entrepreneur visa and enlisting the help of the best contractor on the island, the ruggedly handsome Jake Taylor (Adam Demos) who doubles as the volunteer fire chief and is also a dead ringer for Simon Baker, Gabriela gets to work as an attraction develops between the two.

A pleasantly fast-paced — if admittedly formulaic — featherweight romantic comedy, Falling Inn Love is the equivalent of a paperback summer beach read you'd find in the airport next to a bottle of sunscreen.

Written by Hilary Galanoy and Elizabeth Hackett, scripters of the similarly appealing made for cable romcoms Geek Charming with Sarah Hyland for Disney and Fir Crazy with Sarah Hyland for Hallmark, there's very little to differentiate this breezily charming Netflix title from the type of fare that Hallmark premieres every Saturday night (and all through the holidays). In fact, with two attractive people fixing up a bed and breakfast in the country with a goat, its plot is fairly similar to one of Hallmark's best loved original movies, All Of My Heart, which has spawned two sequels.

Yet, thanks to some inventive subplots involving old love letters and green energy as well as the likable ensemble cast who bring easy smiles as friendly townspeople immediately ready and willing to become Gabriela's new best friends, Cruel Intentions director Roger Kumble makes the material sing. As a result, Falling Inn Love feels fresher than it is in reality.

Filling every frame with warmly lit HGTV renovation show porn (and even dropping in a reference to Chip and Joanna Gaines) along with the scenic beauty of its New Zealand setting, while it isn't quite as effective as last year's outstanding crop of Netflix summer efforts including To All the Boys I've Loved Before, Falling Inn Love is just the thing to close out the season. In other words (and especially when you need a pick me up), this streaming title is one link that's definitely okay to click.

Text ©2019, Film Intuition, LLC; All Rights Reserved. https://www.filmintuition.com Unauthorized Reproduction or Publication Elsewhere is Strictly Prohibited and in violation of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act.  FTC Disclosure: Per standard professional practice, I may have received a review copy or screener link of this title in order to voluntarily decide to evaluate it for my readers, which had no impact whatsoever on whether or not it received a favorable or unfavorable critique. Cookies Notice: This site incorporates tools (including advertiser partners and widgets) that use cookies and may collect some personal information in order to display ads tailored to you etc. Please be advised that neither Film Intuition nor its site owner has any access to this data beyond general site statistics (geographical region etc.) as your privacy is our main concern.