Coffee For All (Caffè Sospeso)

2017’s Caffè Sospeso (Coffee For All), directed by Fulvio Iannucci and Roly Santos.

Starring Glodier Biedma, Elisabeth Cardiello, and Martín Malharro.

What is it about?

Based off of a Naples tradition in coffee cafes, the practice of Caffè Sospeso is based around the idea of a consumer paying for more java than they use, and leaving their extra payment (called, “suspended coffee”) in advance for somebody else to use. Caffè Sospeso follows a number of individuals in different countries all connected to the culture of coffee and how it connects people every day.

Why is it worth seeing?

I’ve never really been a coffee person- I remain baffled at the social encouragement of what largely appears to be a international addiction in which it’s more likely to be ostracized for not participating in, the chemical compulsion that may not be that good for you, than if you do. But social scientists have spoken to the need for people to have a place with other people to go to- a place that isn’t your home, or your job, in order to feel fulfillment socially. A coffee shop is as good a place as any, as the set designer for Friends would tell you.


We’re introduced to a number of individuals, who’s lives have all been impacted by the culture of coffee. We meet Giancarlo, a Romanian immigrant who lives in Naples with his wife and newborn, serving his probation at a coffee shop who’s owner gives sentenced felons chances in order to have mercy and compassion. Elizabeth, a entrepreneur who lives in New York city and sells bags of coffee, always remembering her Italian heritage, rich in espresso. And there’s Martin the author, who’s prominence in the Argentina café is as influential to the shop (and some of its staff, including Glodier) as the coffee itself. All speak to their loving relationship with coffee, and to the spirit of generosity in terms of suspended coffee. It’s about more than someone getting a cup of coffee who can’t afford it- it’s about spreading compassion, in showing mercy towards the less fortunate.


The intentions of the filmmakers is noble, and it’s lovely how it globe jumps and skips to different characters. But the command of its different characters’ arcs are modest (the NY segment being the weakest), and ultimately fall a little flat- some ending in strangely abrupt ways. And there are several segments of strange people who I’m not sure why they are shown. It’s always nice to be shown a window into the ways people try to enjoy the world, or even make it a better place, but it’s even better when it’s less cloudy.

Rating:

3/5

Ad Astra

2019’s Ad Astra, directed by James Gray.

Starring Brad Pitt, Donald Sutherland, Tommy Lee Jones, Ruth Negga, Liv Tyler, Loren Dean, Donnie Keshawarz, Sean Blakemore, Bobby Nish, and Kimberly Elise.

What is it about?

Set in the near future, after an event of power surges sent from somewhere out in space damages earth infrastructure and takes human life, astronaut Roy McBride (Brad Pitt) is recruited by the U.S. military for a mission to recruit a missing astronaut whom worked for a special project called “The Lima Project”. The project was designed to find other life in the galaxy, and was lead by H. Cliffort McBride- before he and his crew disappeared. While Roy has an interest in space exploration, he also has an ulterior motive- H. Clifford is his father. With plenty of questions regarding his father leaving his family behind on earth, and not every aspect of the mission shared with him by the military, the greatest answers to McBride’s journey lie in the cosmos.

Why is it worth seeing?

I’ll admit to having a certain level of bias, towards both James Gray films, and this science fiction film’s setting of outer space. It’s just nice to report that the marriage of these 2 things is such a success. Gray’s habits of burrowing into his characters’ psyches, of splaying their souls on the screen for all to digest, and journeying into the voids of humanity and distance, make for an experience that’s equal parts thrilling and contemplative.


Squarely in the middle of the experience, dominating the screen for the vast majority of the film, is Brad Pitt, in perhaps his greatest role to date in his career (he is having one hell of year, and I fully expect him to take home hardware home this upcoming Oscar season). It begs the question-  what if HAL 9000, the most humane character from 2001: A Space Odyssey, looked like Brad Pitt? Not the logical and cold Artificial Intelligence version of HAL that is utilized by the Discovery One ship’s crew per se, but the personality that HAL displays during a moment of great vulnerability? Pitt’s character of Roy, who never has his heart rate rise above 80bpm, even when skydiving from the earth’s atmosphere with flaming asteroids, certainly starts off the film as a cool customer- one could be forgiven for wondering if this is just going to be a space version of Pitt’s zombie-like portrayals in Meet Joe Black or The Devil’s Own. But as Pitt penetrates further and further into the infinity, and the military’s intentions for him become more disingenuous, his veneer starts to shift, and there’s nowhere to hide. It’s astonishingly intimate how close Gray stays on Pitt’s face throughout the film, and Pitt’s middle aged milieu is a perfect focal point for the story’s metaphor about embracing who we are no matter where we are.


But where does the film go? Gray (and a running on all cylinders effects team) portray the universe as an astonishingly beautiful but fatal place, where the difference between success and death is razor thin, and it owes a lot of its successors a piece of its gross as tribute: 2001, Solaris, Gravity, Moon, Interstellar, First Man- they’re all there in testament to the genre’s power. Explaining mankind’s expansive quest to find something that hasn’t been conquered, and to understand the depth of human experience and find new phenomenon, through an environment of the most dangerous places imaginable, brings up questions about the why of it all. What better place from which to have a series of heart stopping sequences, from an asteroid shower, to a dune buggy shoot out, to space station hopping where you either get on board or float to your death? It’s interesting how this just might be Gray’s most accessible film, from its movie star gloss to the set pieces to stir the adrenaline along with the mind. While somewhat long in length, there’s plenty of enjoy for the action junkies.

With the Pitt exclamation point of his career in sharp focus, and gorgeous vistas of lovely but deadly space in the background, it’s easy to say that there are few characters otherwise worth exploring. Fans of Liv Tyler should stay away from the wasted opportunity that is here, while those that love Tommy Lee Jones, Donald Sutherland, and Ruth Negga, will find something- but not too much, in their respective roles as well. While failing to lead up to an ensemble cast, the results do pitch the foreground in sharp relief, of Roy’s journey to find himself and resolve his father issues. The other nitpick (there aren’t many), is a difficulty in sustaining modes of expression. It’s not a surprise to hear about the production undergoing reshoots, as the script can’t seem to decide if it’s going to let Roy be a man of few words, or if we’re going to penetrate his inner world of thought, and splits the difference. It’s a small price to pay in all of the transcendent ideas, and in the world of impactful science fiction films, Ad Astra is a welcome addition to the pantheon that will have as many questions as to mankind’s search for meaning as it does answers.

Rating:

4.5/5

Trailer: Click Here.

Brightburn

2019’s Brightburn, directed by David Yarovesky.

Starring Jackson A. Dunn, Elizabeth Banks, David Denman, Emmie Hunter, Matt Jones, Meredith Hagner, Jennifer Holland, Gregory Alan Williams, and Michael Rooker.

What is it about?

Rural farmers Tori and Kyle Brewer (Elizabeth Banks and David Denman) one day have a spaceship crash onto their front lawn. Inside it they find a baby humanoid being that they christen, Brandon Brewer (Jackson A. Dunn), and raise him as their own child. After he becomes an adolescent, the spaceship begins to call out to him, and he begins to possess superhuman abilities. But Brandon may not be interested in the usual superhuman route- and considers instead his purpose regarding becoming a super villain.

Why is it worth seeing?

These days superhero films are all the rage, the equivalent of Westerns in decades past. After a golden age of entrenchment, with each year the product became more and more ubiquitous, and it became an increasing challenge to stand out in the morass of business as usual product, whether it be chaps and six shooters, or tights and laser beam eyes. The strangely titled Brightburn (named after the indistinct town the film is set in), attempts to separate itself from the pack in its story of a Superman-like child who breaks bad in the worst of ways.


Its premise, admittedly different, doesn’t do itself any favours in its execution. Its horror movie-like tropes of jump scares, slasher film-like stalking, and creepy We Need To Talk About Kevin child murderer vibes, ensure that any kind of originality is instantly forgettable. It’s the origin story of something that’s closer to Friday the 13^th than Superman, but (unless you’re a sociopath) it has us hoping for an overmatched group of indistinguishable characters to overcome the adolescent menace. Banks and Denman, as Brandon’s good natured adoptive parents (the bio parent after all is a glowing spaceship satanic blob sequestered in the barn), do their best, but Banks’ shrill denial is pathologically inert, as only the average kind of horror victim can be.


Unlike the superior Chronicle, the last superhero movie I can think of that featured a homegrown hero who decides to go a different way, at times it can be a little confusing whom we’re cheering for- is it the small town’s hapless victims (dispatched in pretty grisly fashion), or the god-like deity who is a half decade away from applying for his driver’s license? If it’s the latter, than I’d prefer the tone set by 2017’s Life, in which it comes around belatedly that it just might be a film based around the other side’s perspective- which was a neat trick.

Rating:

3/5

Trailer: Click Here.

Shoplifters

2018’s Shoplifters, written and directed by Hirokazu Kore-eda.

Starring Lily Franky, Sakura Ando, Kirin Kiki, Mayu Matsuoka, Jyo Kairi, and Miyu Sasaki.

Nominated for an Academy Award for Best Foreign Film.

What is it about?

Set more or less in present day Tokyo, a Japanese makeshift family huddles together trying to get by. Middle aged couple Osama (Lily Franky) and Nobuyo (Sakura Ando) are the mother and father, while their friend Aki (Mayu Matsuoka) and Aki’s grandmother, Hatsue (Kirin Kiki) also live there. The adults raise a child named Shota, (Jyo Kairi), and the family sustains itself through a variety of means through employment, old age pensions, grift, and shoplifting. One day the family comes across a young girl, whom they learn is being neglected and abused by her parents, and decide to take her in to their care. A number of questions come up, regarding just what a family should look like, society’s role in shaping it to its standards, and just how precarious some families find life in modern day Japan following decades of stagnation/recession.

Why is it worth seeing?

Writer/Director Hirokazu Kore-eda’s ode to family dynamics, Shoplifters, dares to try to address questions regarding a deceptively complex question- what makes a  family? It’s a definition rife with thorny complexities- is it the people you share blood with, or the people you spend time with? In practice, the answer is often in column C- all of the above. At least that’s what Kore-eda’s latest film implies, through its Japanese setting that has been clearly impacted by the two or three decade long economic recession/stagnation referred to as the “Lost Score” years.


Kore-eda drops us right in the middle of a family hub, its overcrowded milieu of survival and hustle that could be described as a business-like routine, if only to mask its everyday struggle and occasional desperation. In it, we see characters who make no attempt to hide their humanity for the sake of inside voices. Filled with some of the most pronounced noodle sucking and fruit ingesting you’ll ever see, this is not your grandfather’s Tokyo Story. Ozu’s 1953 masterpiece featured “tatami shots”, a low camera position which emphasized order and a balance for the various characters. But here, the characters (and their respective cluttered lives), threaten to haphazardly spill out of every corner of the frame. It’s a tidy metaphor for the way globalism and capitalism have turned some people’s lives upside down, and splintered the foundation of society by fragmenting the family dynamic. It’s shown here in the way that the family lives a hand to mouth existence, despite making what I believe is 5 different types of income. Through employment in various unreliable gig economy stints, to an old age pension, to finally guilt payments from relatives- and that’s before including shoplifting and theft. It’s an able demonstration of how it’s difficult for citizens to survive without much of a safety net.


Not since 2017’s The Florida Project (my #2 movie of that year), has a film so strongly grappled with viewer’s empathy. It’s not hard to see how- the family takes in a young girl, clearly neglected AND abused, unprotected by her biological family and the system that is supposed to protect her, and tries to do exactly that for her well being. But the family also teaches its children to steal and be morally flexible, implicating them in the crimes they’re mixed up in, and it always feels like there’s yet another grift just around the corner- or a body buried beneath your feet. But amidst the struggle, Kore-eda inserts moments of sweetness, so crucial for victims of trauma- those periods of safety that can help the elastic brain heal from its catastrophic but not permanent damage. It really strengthens its convincing case for people’s need for connection.


I’m not clear as to the politics as to why the film won the 2018 Cannes Palm d’Or (otherwise known as Best Picture of the prestigious film festival), but it could be the way Kore-eda first introduces us to the characters and their family dynamic first, and then in its strong final act shows us their individual histories in all of their misshapen and chaotic needs. It really asks some hard questions about both the challenges of systems interfering with people’s attempts to make life more pleasant for themselves, and if people deserve to be free in society if they won’t follow its rules and laws. While the film can be difficult to follow at times in all of its jaggedness, it’s a poignant journey worth taking, and challenge worth undertaking in terms of accepting people of all varieties.

Rating:

4/5

Trailer: Click Here.

Whiplash

2014’s Whiplash, written and directed by Damien Chazelle.

Starring Miles Teller, J.K. Simmons, Paul Reiser, Melissa Benoist, Austin Stowell, Nate Lang, and Chris Mulkey.

What is it about?

Andrew (Miles Teller) is an aspiring drummer just starting out at music school. With a supportive dad (Paul Reiser), and a meet cute (Melissa Benoist) to get to know, things are looking up. Andrew is recruited by a music teacher named Fletcher (J.K. Simmons) to play in his elite band. Andrew is elated to have the chance, but quickly has to deal with intensely cut throat “encouragement” from Fletcher. Pushed beyond limits few would consider normal, will Andrew be able to stay in school, or break under pressure?

Why is it worth seeing?

Few films are as interestingly named as Whiplash. Is it a reference to the turn its protagonist makes in obsessing to become a drummer beyond his instructor’s reproach, or a loving reference to the sounds from the music school’s apprentices in this musical tale of obsession? Perhaps it’s both, as writer/director Damien Chazelle’s feature length debut is a singularly (some would say homicidally) focused tale about the drive that it would take to become not just good at one’s field- but all time great. Through the loving lens of a musical aficionado, Chazelle (and composer Justin Hurwitz) show that behind the inspiration, of smoky and cool improvisational jazz, and blustery bright but precise band music, lies perspiration. But it’s not just the sweat (and bloody knuckles of marathon drumming sessions) that can prove elite. It’s the sacrifice, or rather the things that you don’t get to enjoy, because you’re too busy for pursuits like romantic partners and being able to relate to people when greatness awaits. It’s a depiction the film usually gets right.


There is no artistic success without a muse. And in Teller’s, um, focused, drummer character of Andrew, he starts out inspired by music, merely wanting to be proficient at it, and spend his off time with family members and a girlfriend. But that’s before he meets J.K. Simmons’ smoothly deceptive character of Fletcher, who’s talents extend far beyond merely reading, conducting, and playing music. His professor/pseudo terrorist character, who exudes almost as much charm as vitriol, puts out all the stops in the outright psychological warfare he employs over his students. No player in his group is safe, as Fletcher’s reign of terror encompasses using false compliments, ruthlessly pitting his students against each other, overt put downs, and assault. It has a galvanizing, if somewhat grim effect, on Andrew, who practices intensely and throws his ethics out the window like a pair of discarded drum sticks. It would all be so unpleasant, if it weren’t so diabolically riveting to watch Simmons revise a third reich deprived Hank Schillinger, cutting loose with abandon for just under a few hours. Like all great villains, he believes that he is the hero of his story, and that all of the student’s lives that he destroys is simply part of the process of separating the chafe from the wheat.


In a movie with few but potent characters, Fletcher’s villainy, and its effects on Andrew, are somewhat reminiscent of The Master, the Paul Thomas Anderson master study in two individuals’ chemical biology seeping into one another. But while Andrew’s character bends, constantly at risk of breaking from Guantanamo Bay-like punishment, Fletcher’s character never really evolves. He’s mere treachery, and as a result can’t compare to The Master’s charms, where Joaquin Phoenix and Philip Seymour Hoffman play a game of compromised chess in each other’s heads. Continuously leaching each other’s DNA while simultaneously never coalescing completely together, each encounter begins anew and goes in consistently unpredictable directions. Fletcher by comparison, is only an amp that can go up to 11. He has (clever) nuance, but not growth, or unpredictability. Whiplash’s greatest strength is also its weakness- there’s not much to speak of for characters beyond the two combatants, with all due respect to (enjoyable for the first time since Aliens?) Paul Reiser.


Possessing an at times a bizarre colour palate that neither looks good nor lends itself to the story, Whiplash is otherwise a laser focused delight about the nature of obsession, features a cracker jack filmed finale of competition, and its small but intense cast of characters play a musically inclined tune that is worthy of plenty a rewatch.
 

Rating:

4.5/5

Trailer: Click Here.

American Factory

2019’s American Factory, directed by Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert.

What is it about?

In 2008, a General Motors car manufacturing plant in Dayton, Ohio, closed its lines for good. Roughly 5 years later, the Chinese company of Fuyao, lead by billionaire Cao Dewang, purchased the plant with the aim of producing glass panels for automobiles. While Dayton and the state of Ohio were happy to encourage industry and try to reestablish a semblance of the eviscerated working class of the American rust belt, very quickly it comes to light that the different cultures of America and China carry very different views on loyalty, industry, and efficacy. Is there a way for a Chinese company to be successful with American labour on US soil?

Why is it worth seeing?

The best documentaries are ones that are timely, but without ever catering to instincts that will lead to it becoming dated, with points of view and nuance that are both many and deep. But all of that is nothing without some degree of access. American Factory’s charms are first and foremost rooted in the levels of penetration that directors Steven Bognar and Julia Reichert are able to get to the key players in the depiction of Fuyeo’s attempt to run a successful Chinese business in America. It’s pretty remarkable how nakedly the company’s doings are revealed, and how unscrupulous its players are in protecting their employer’s livelihood from a decreased bottom line.


Unfolding in three segments, the first of which explores the process of getting the factory ready for its grand opening. From the beginning, we see how the differences in cultures, assembled in a majority (in numbers) of Americans, and a minority (but having the final vote) of Chinese workers and supervisors, are continents apart. Occasional misunderstandings aside, there’s also more universal in nature employment truths to offer- such as the chairman’s needling of a manager for the placement of a fire alarm, as delivered through an interpreter. However, the coup de grace may be when an Ohio Senator delivers his thoughts at the opening gala regarding the plant’s workers keeping their options open regarding unionization. The resulting response, caught liberally on camera, is as candid as it is cutthroat.


The second segment features a group of Americans travelling to China to gain a better understanding of how the company’s homeland operations work. The fact that one of their bulky visitors struggles to fit into their one size fits all safety vest is a fitting metaphor for how lost in translation the two cultures are in comparison to each other. While viewing the scheduled perfectly choreographed dance shows, and tightly arranged teams shouting slogans at the factory, feel intoxicating in terms of efficiency and order, the Americans following suit on stage, unsynchronized and askew, proves just how different the gaps in culture are.


The third and final segment returns to America, where the factory begins to lose the sheen on its apple. The Chinese workers, some of which are living cramped in college dorm-like quarters, on years-long contracts away from their families back home, begin to resent their American coworkers, who refuse to do things like work seven days a week and work unpaid overtime. Their sentiments are stoked by (primarily Chinese) management, eager to push the company line. On the other end are the American workers, who’s desire for things like safety, independence, higher wages, time off for evenings and weekends, and some degree of job security, prove contentious. We meet workers who speak of having jobs in the manufacturing sectors where they made more then double what they make now. All of the imbalances lead to conversations regarding unionization, which management tries to shoot down with “labour management consultants”, who feed them misinformation that would make even the rankest of conservative political action committees cheer. It all makes for a near conclusion that follows the labour climate of the past two or three decades, a little too closely.

Are there villains, or good guys for that matter, presented here? While it’s always amusing to watch CEO’s “interface” with the rabble, Factory’s strength is in how it presents both sides of the story, with each culture’s formidable histories clanging into each other like the metallic tang of an (alleged) Great Leap Forward. With my North American upbringing, I’m biased, and have political views that could be described as left of centre. With that in mind, it’s difficult to imagine a scenario where a country that as of this moment doesn’t allow its citizens open access to the internet, and has brutal acts of demonstration suppression and currently occupies peaceful places such as Tibet, could be successful partnering with a cultural workforce who think life is about more than just your career. Time will only tell as our consumer dominated economies are catered to by continually evolving retailers.


Regardless, as the documentary hints, the real enemy to workers everywhere may not be of a geopolitical nature, but rather technological. Modernization of modes of work, buoyed by the creation and mobilization of computers, robotics, and even artificial intelligence- are all just arrows in the quiver of capitalism. The real question remains not which culture is better suited for work in the 21^st century, but rather if there will be gainful employment for human beings at all.

Rating:

4.5/5

Trailer: Click Here.