Buzz Blog

A Real Pain ***1/2 [U.S. Dramatic]
While it’s far from the most interesting thing about the movie, the double-entendre in the title of writer/director Jesse Eisenberg’s second feature captures both the essence of a love-to-hate-him central character, and the story’s understanding that genuine hurt—whether your own, or someone else’s—can be hard to process. Eisenberg and Kieran Culkin play David and Benji Kaplan, cousins who decide to take a guided Jewish history tour of Poland, the native country of their recently-deceased, Holocaust-survivor grandmother. It’s also a coming-back-together of sorts for the once-close cousins, and a lot of the wonderful comedy in Eisenberg’s script comes from recognizing the differences in their respective personalities—David introverted and obsessive, Benji spontaneous and likely bipolar—and how those differences create tensions between them. Eisenberg is a generous enough filmmaker that he lets Culkin loose to take control of the story with an electric performance, capturing the qualities that make someone like Benji someone who (in David’s words) “lights up a room, then takes a shit all over it.” There’s material here also about people trying to process tragedy on a grand scale, and how hard it can be to recognize and address one’s own pain while recognizing that others have had it wo much worse. It’s impressive that Eisenberg makes something so raucously funny and simultaneously so sweet about trying to connect with suffering across generations, across cultures, or even just across the hotel room you’re sharing.

Every Little Thing ***1/2 [U.S. Documentary]
Somewhere out there, I’m sure, is someone who could resist the beauty and emotion of Sally Aitken’s documentary—but that ain’t me. Aitken’s primary subject is Terry Masear, a widowed writer and educator who has turned her Southern California home into a sanctuary for rehabilitating injured and orphaned hummingbirds. The film takes its time getting around to the answer of “why hummingbirds,” and the biographical information about Masear accentuates the narrative without getting in the way of the A+ material, which deals with the birds themselves. Directors of photography Nathan Barlow, Dan Freene and Ann Prum fill the screen with remarkable slow-motion images of the hummingbirds in flight, inspiring not just a sense of wonder at their distinctive movements, but an impression that these creatures are inquisitive and full of personality. That interest in turning the wounded birds into characters naturally leads to an investment in which ones will survive to return to the wild—crowds are likely to burst into applause at the simple act of one bird making an improbable recuperative step—which draws viewers into Masear’s conviction that these creatures deserve to be treated as though their fate matters. It’s a lovely paean to the idea of how much richer our humanity becomes when we choose to act with compassion, even if the recipients of that compassion aren’t themselves human.

My Old Ass **1/2 [Premieres]
There’s a bit of a bait-and-switch involved in the high-concept premise of writer/director Megan Park’s comedy, which wouldn’t be so much of a problem if the “switch” part had a little more juice to it. The “bait” is undeniably promising: On her 18th birthday, just days away from departing her rural Canadian hometown for college, Elliott (Maisy Stella) takes a mushroom trip with her best friends—and subsequently comes face-to-face with a 20-years-older version of herself (Aubrey Plaza) who might have some lessons and warnings to impart. The “rules” behind older-Elliott’s accessibility to younger-Elliott and the extend to which she’s real or imagined drift all over the place, which becomes a bit of a distraction, if not a deal-breaker. What emerges is a sweet, good-natured coming-of-age tale, with Elliott finding a bit more appreciation for the family she seems to be in a hurry to leave behind, and learning some things about living in the moment rather than worrying about the future. It’s all very nice, and effective at avoiding the cliché that Elliott must be aching to head to the big city because she’s queer and everyone disapproves (they don’t). But as charming as Stella is in the lead role, it all just kind of moseys along genially without much in the way of actual jokes (brief Justin Bieber- and Saoirse Ronan-centric asides notwithstanding). The lessons Elliott needs to learn don’t demand a fusillade of crazy gags, just maybe more than a few gentle smiles.

Igualada *** [World Documentary]
“Follow the candidate” documentaries are nothing particularly new, but Juan Mejía Botero finds a fresh angle by connecting the campaign in question with the candidate’s long history of activism. Botero profiles Francia Márquez Mina, a progressive Afro-descendant woman who decides to run for president of Colombia in 2021, challenging the long recent history of right-wing leadership propped up by local paramilitary groups. But he also incorporates footage from more than a decade earlier, as Márquez Mina pushes back against attempts to evict residents from her home district for corporate exploitation of its mineral wealth. The film’s title comes from a term for those who expect fair treatment that their racial or other status wouldn’t generally grant them—think of “uppity” as a useful synonym—and Igualada certainly addresses the racism and classism that Márquez Mina faces on the campaign trail, while also dealing with even more existential concerns like threats to her life and those of her family members. But while some of the material feels familiar in the various montages of optimistic moments vs. wondering what the point of it all is, there’s a unique perspective in addressing the understandable cynicism of Colombians who can’t imagine the idea of a politician who isn’t fundamentally corrupt. In connecting the activism of Márquez Mina’s younger years with her presidential campaign, Igualada offers a portrait of what it means to commit to change, when every structure around you tells you that you’re a fool to do so.

Good One *** [U.S. Dramatic]
Here’s Exhibit A in why I don’t like to insta-react to Sundance screenings: It took a little time for me to full wrap my head around what writer/director India Donaldson was aiming for in this restrained character study. That central character is 17-year-old New Yorker Sam (Lily Collias), who’s taking a holiday-weekend camping trip that’s initially planned to be with her remarried-with-a-toddler father (James Le Gros), her dad’s long-time friend/underemployed actor Matt (Danny McCarthy) and Matt’s own teen son, but takes on a different dynamic when Matt’s son bails on the trip. What follows has been compared to the work of Kelly Reichardt—not surprising, given the part of the premise that resembles Old Joy—with a subtle, observational vibe rather than big, dramatic plot points. Donaldson emphasizes the way Sam’s feminine energy affects the dynamic of the trio, while also making it clear that she’s the most competent and level-headed of the three of them. My initial reservations were that such qualities gave Sam too little of a character arc, but the realizations Sam comes to over the course of the trip, particularly about her father and how much he can be trusted with her hard truths, feel even more insinuating without being underlined. Collias offers up a lead performance that’s charismatic without every being showy, finding a simple strength in deciding that the sob stories of the men in her life don’t have to drag her down.

Realm of Satan **1/2 [NEXT]
Considering that director Scott Cummings created this portrait of The Church of Satan in conjunction with the movie's subjects, it’s reasonable to assume that this represents the way members of the organization want to be portrayed to the world—and I’m not entirely sure what is. Structurally, it’s more impressionistic than narrative, generally employing wordless master-shot compositions of Satanists in a range of activities from the mundane to the deliberately provocative and/or sinister. Indeed, it’s most interesting when Cummings juxtaposes such images to wry effect, like someone in a vinyl gimp suit noshing casually on an apple before diving into a sex ritual. There’s also a subplot involving the firebombing of the house of an online Church of Satan personality, suggesting that Realm of Satan might explore the group as the subject of hate crimes from those who don’t actually understand what they profess and promote. The problem is, the movie itself doesn’t seem at all interested in clarifying that point; for all the time spent on showing individuals doing magic tricks, you’d think The Church of Satan was more about performance than a belief system. The result is visually arresting but frustrating, as a vilified group gets full control of the microphone and appears less interested in being better understood than in being perhaps misunderstood, but at least misunderstood with style.