Friday, September 26, 2025

The Fourth Annual Havasu Film Festival, Remote Edition Week One, Part Two

I don't know why it is that printers of the paper wrappers that go around the plastic DVD cases insist on printing their descriptions of the movies they contain in purple four-point type on black. I can't read any of it, so I just have to guess at what kind of movie I'm getting from the title and the cover illustration. And based solely on that limited, highly subjective and often misleading information (probably intentionally, sometimes) I exhausted my supply of light entertainment with a couple of the films reviewed in Part One of the Fourth Annual Havasu Film Festival Remote Edition Week One. As a result, I wasn't really excited about continuing my perusal of Hollywood's dreary offerings, and have proceeded more from  duty than desire. 

 I have been rewarded, somewhat. The first two movies, which I watched today (Wednesday, as I start writing this) were actually pretty good. By some standards, anyway.

 

copyright Cadence Productions Ltd
A Working Man 
starring Jason Statham
directed by David Ayer

 I've seen this guy Jason Statham in action films before. I know he's been the leading man in a number of (to me) entertaining but forgettable action films, and I have a favourable impression of his work without actually remembering any of it, other than a more comedic version in the Melissa McCarthy vehicle Spy some ten years ago.That's really what I know him from. (I'm pretty sure I've even reviewed another of his films in a previous iteration of this Havasu Film Festival, but no way am I going to bother looking through all the previous posts on the chance of finding it. I mean, who really cares? Other than Jason Statham, who probably won't know either way.)

  In this year's release, Statham plays his own stock character: this time named Levon* No-last-name, a former Royal Marine, invincible and unfailingly righteous, now a widowed construction worker. His boss's daughter is kidnapped and he promises to bring her back home. Shades of Taken! Levon gets some material help from former associates in the military but the work is his alone. He is a Lone Wolf.

 It's not a great script, it's not great acting, there's not a subtle poignant moral lesson to be learned from this movie. It's an action film. The good guy is entirely good, and all the bad guys -- and there are lots of them -- are entirely bad. They all die (except the top guys in the Evil Brotherhood of Russian Villains, who are still alive and free to cause mayhem in future films, should they be needed).

 There is, in short, nothing great about this movie; it's just pure entertainment of a particularly violent kind. I view it the way I used to view the unending struggles between Bugs Bunny and Elmer Fudd: pure meaningless fun that satisfies my sense of justice. All the bad guys deserve what they get; who could complain? We all saw what they did. (That, I think, is the missing essential ingredient when people try to apply the same kind of hard logic to real-life crime and punishment.)

 As a dramatic endeavour, A Working Man is okay. As a shoot-em-up action film, it's great.  
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* Levon wears his war wound like a crown. That probably has nothing whatsoever to do with this film. 

 

copyright Sony Pictures
It Ends With Us
starring Blake Lively, Justin Baldoni and  Brandon Sklenar
directed by Justin Baldoni

 No two ways about it, this is a chick-flick. You can tell because (a) Justin Baldoni keeps taking his shirt off to reveal a six pack, and the female characters gush about him in a way that would be considered actionably sexist if men talked that way about a woman; (He directed the film, so he gets to show his body off as much as he wants.) and (b) because it's a very romantic movie with some sexually suggestive scenes but no actual nudity, not so much as a buttcrack or a nipple to abhor female viewers or deprive male viewers of their cognitive skills.

  Stereotypes aside, it's a well-done movie with a message. The plot focuses on two relationships involving Lily Bloom (Blake Lively, who I knew only as the wife of the co-owner of Wrexham AFC, in Wales; when I first heard the name, I assumed it was a man): one, seen in flashbacks, involving her first boyfriend from high school in Maine ("Atlas," portrayed as a youth by Alex Neustaedter, and as an adult by Brandon Sklenar), the other with her husband ("Ryle," played by Baldoni) in Boston. The two provide an interesting contrast, though both share the fictive trait of being unable to communicate rationally at crucial moments: the Idiot-Plot again, but again not too distracting from the story. If the two of them didn't jump to incorrect conclusions, and had an actual ten-minute conversation instead of fighting like prepubescent schoolboys, this plot would grind to a halt and the movie would end before the first hour was up, with the two of them laughing over a beer and waxing philosophical about life. 

 (I'm actually more distracted by wondering where and how these people get the money to set up their thriving businesses in the leafier parts of Boston in the 21st Century.) 

  Long before the Fourth Annual Havasu Film Festival began, I had heard about this movie in passing. A web site I sometimes visit to immerse myself in bad grammar and poor spelling would sometimes  include posts about things the contemptible class think of as News, and for a while in their estimation this included some kind of controversy between the two stars of the movie, Lively and Baldoni. I never summoned enough interest to actually read any of it, having already jumped to the conclusion that it was all either a P.R. stunt or handbags at twenty paces. Probably the latter, as the movie itself hardly got mentioned in the headlines of those posts. So I still don't know what it was all about. (I did happen to notice, when searching Wikipedia for the movie poster above, that there's actually a whole separate page devoted to the controversy. I was not moved to click on the link, and so I remain as unenlightened about this celebrity dust-up as any Neanderthal gamboling about in the German forest; and unless it somehow comes to affect Wrexham AFC, I will most likely remain so.) 

 As for the movie, I recommend it, though possibly not for a first date. Wait at least until you know enough about the person you're out with to honestly appraise their integrity, and remember that despite what you hear on TV, it works both ways. Second date stuff.

 

copyright Blumhouse Productions
Drop
starring Meghann Fahy and Brendan Sklenar
directed by Christopher Landon 

 I select the movies for the Havasu Film Festival pretty much at random. I choose a shelf at the library and select films based only on what I can learn from the box. Since I've never heard of most of the movies, and usually can't read anything of the blurb on the back, I'm really going mostly by the picture, maybe the names of the stars if they're printed large enough, and my answer to the question, "Will I be able to sit through this?" 

 So I always wonder when coincidences happen, like this: Drop is about a woman and a man on a first date in downtown Chicago. The woman, Violet (played by Fahy) was a victim of abuse (coincidence #1) by her late husband Blake (coincidence #2). She may have killed him, though flashbacks indicate otherwise; now she's out on her very first date since his death a few years before. The man she meets at an elegant restaurant in a glass skyscraper is Henry. Henry is played by Brandon Sklenar (coincidence #3). Henry in this film has all the characteristics of the Atlas character in the previous movie (coincidence #4), but without a beard. And I picked this film to view, pretty much at random, off the pile of DVDs, right after It Ends With Us. (coincidence #5) 

 No idea what to make of this. I could accept that it's just an odd series of unimportant coincidences that these two movies came out about the same time and both were, as a result, in the library's "Express Collection" at the San Pedro branch. Or I could recall similar things happening with other films, and conclude that there is a vast web of profit-driven plagiarism in Hollywood, with people stealing ideas left and right and rushing to get their movie out before the other guy's. 

 Yeah, let's go with that theory. Not that it matters to me. I just thought it was curious.

 So anyway, the screenwriting for Drop isn't nearly as elegantly done as was that of the other movie; in fact, it was pretty stilted throughout. The plot is interesting, but requires an implausibly tech-literate villain, who is also on a first date with perhaps the most patient woman in Chicago. The villain also has to be able to transport himself invisibly around the dining room of the posh restaurant to poison innocent people's drinks and intercept attempts to alert people to the victim's plight. And he has to have an unlimited supply of spy-cams posted in every nook and cranny of both the restaurant and Violet's home. Oh, and he has to be able to text with phenomenal speed without his date noticing it. At one point one of my eyes (the left, which was slightly closer to the screen) rolled completely out of my head.

 The denouement of this film, while entertaining, was so implausible that the neighbour called to ask what that snorting sound was, and was I okay. First of all, I couldn't buy that Violet, who has figured out what's going on and who's doing it, could vanquish the villain in a protracted fight, get car keys from her now-wounded date, stop to comfort an innocent bystander who tried to help and is also injured, descend thirty-something floors in an elevator to the building's multistory parking garage, find the date's car, and drive from there to her house in whatever part of Chicago* it's in, and get there in time to thwart the villain's accomplice, who has been patiently waiting inside Violet's house to kill Violet's son and sister, all in less time than it took that accomplice to act after receiving the telephonic instruction, "Kill them." It should have taken him, oh, twenty, maybe thirty seconds to kill the two innocents. What, did he have a Hot Pocket in the microwave that he needed to wait on, maybe the last one? 

 That's the most implausible point of this whole story, but by no means the only one. Runner-up would be that Skelnar's character is such a nice guy that he would persist with the world's worst first date after the horrible encounter we all witnessed. No man IRL is that desperate, and no woman IRL is that attractive. (I reserve judgment on whether any date could really be that bad. I've been on a few that might come close, but not in decades, thank God, so my memories may be exaggerated.)

 But, farcical implausibilities aside, and uninspired directing overlooked along with its concomitant unenthusiastic performances (by everyone except the implausible villian Richard, played by Reed Diamond with a wonderfully evil glint in the eye and a mouth full of excited drool), and the technobabble discounted, and some pretty on-the-nose foreshadowing excused, what are you left with? I was going to say it's an okay movie, maybe three stars out of five. Then I remembered that I very nearly abandoned this movie about twenty-five minutes in as just too dull. And that was before the two characters met up for their date. No way is this a three-star film.

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* I'm somewhat familiar with Chicago, but I have never seen its streets so empty as in this scene, especially around construction zones.

 

copyright Focus Features
The Phoenician Scheme
starring Benicio del Toro, Mia Threapleton and Michael Cera
directed by Wes Anderson

 This movie is absurd. Intentionally so. There is something of Luis Bunuel about it, but by saying that I don't mean to suggest that it's a good movie, or even an entertaining one. This is an art-house movie that seems intended to give a host of well-known popular actors a resumé line that will show they have real chops and are not just in it for the money: Benedict Cumberbatch, Tom Hanks, Bryan Cranston, Richard Ayouade, Scarlett Johansson, and others who are probably familiar to European audiences but not to me. This strikes me as odd, because none of them need that kind of validation. 

 So maybe I'm wrong; it happens. But here they all deliver ludicrous lines in service of an intentionally ludicrous plot with a flatness and lack of emotional investment that, by the end, made me wish devoutly that one of the crossbow bolts (an absurd plot point, one of many with no real purpose) had gone just a little off track and taken out somebody important behind the camera, thus derailing this production. The only acting skill anyone showed is the ability to keep a straight face.

 If you want to know what this film's story is, read the hagiographic version that appears on its Wikipedia page; I can't be bothered.


copyright Sky Cinema
Fight or Flight
starring Josh Hartnett
directed by James Madigan

 Someone in Hollywood -- I'm guessing Brooks McLaren and D.J. Cotrona, who wrote this film -- had the idea of pairing an ever-righteous hero with an equally righteous superspy type. In this case, it's Josh Hartnett playing the righteous hero. He has been in a surprising number of movies and TV shows I've never heard of, and more than a few that I have, but never, so far as I can tell, in a truly major role. Yet I recognize his name, so he must have made some kind of impression on me at some point. I just don't know when, where or why. 

 Here he plays a former Secret Service agent whose properly developed sense of right and wrong got him canned by corrupt US Government bosses, and for two years he's been living off the grid in Bangkok, drinking and keeping his honour intact. Now his ex-girlfriend Katherine Brunt (played by Katee Sackhoff) needs him to do a job for her, and as incentive offers to clear his name. He's to capture and bring in a person called the Ghost, someone whose identity is unknown, but who is apparently able to do anything wanted to disrupt the world's economy. 

 Somehow, after an unexplained bombing in Bangkok, the Ghost's travel plans show up in a coded chat post in Mandarin on the Dark Web. Brunt has no assets on the ground there, so she hitches up her britches and calls her old boyfriend to beg him to please, please, please get on a flight to San Francisco, identify and capture this Ghost person, and deliver this mysterious entity to her employers. He agrees, and the movie can proceed.

 But it turns out that this Ghost has pissed off a lot of people around the world, governments and organized criminal gangs alike. Everybody has a price on the Ghost's head, and everybody has become aware of the Ghost's travel plans. Consequently, the plane is crammed full of assassins looking to kill the Ghost, and by the way they want Hartnett's character out of the way, too, one bounty-hunter to another.  

 Now we've got a plot, and a vehicle that will deliver about two hours of good, clean, bloody fun. I won't bother describing the action; it's not quite up to Jason Bourne or Mission:Impossible standards, but it's at least as good as in, oh, the John Wick franchise, and funnier. And as for the characterizations, I found them enjoyable if a little too pious on occasion. Fortunately, there's not a lot of chit-chat beyond cracking jokes in this movie, so it's kind of like church service on Super Bowl Sunday: cogent and concise, and then move on. There's even a plot twist near the end that you just knew had to happen, but it still came as a surprise when it did. And there's a final scene that's only there to set up a possible sequel.

 I kind of hope that happens. This was a fun movie, one well-enough done in writing and filming to make me willing to see these characters again. 

 

 That's it for Week One. My first batch of nine films only lasted five days, so I'm off to the library to replenish the supply. Week Two will probably start tonight, because let's face it, I really don't have anything better to do.

 

Links to earlier Film Festival reviews:
2025 (the beginning of this series of posts) 
2024 (link to first of seven posts, including a recap)
2023 (link to first of two posts)
2022 (link to the one post that first year)
 
 

Wednesday, September 24, 2025

The Fourth Annual Havasu Film Festival, Remote Edition Week One, Part One


 This year the Fourth Annual Havasu Film Festival is coming to you from Paradise South, i.e., San Antonio, Texas, owing to an unfortunate coincidence of kennel cough in Texas and the pregnancy of a purse-sized show dog in Colorado. I'm sure no explanation is needed for that. 

 Luckily, the San Antonio Public Library has even more DVDs to choose from than the Lake Havasu City branch of the Mohave County Public Library ... just not all in one place. But I strongly doubt that I will need to visit more than my three local branches to get enough films to fill the upcoming three weeks of enforced Me-Time that my dog-sitting duties provide. After all, just this morning I got nine recent releases from the "Express Collection" shelf -- new releases -- at the San Pedro Park branch alone; and if I should find the supply of older films runs low, or unconscionably thin, I have the Landa branch and the Central Library close-by to draw on. 

 I should mention that I have a list, curated by my wife, of good films that we want to see; I had thought to look for those movies for this year's Festival; they're mostly movies mentioned by actors on the hilarious British program, The Graham Norton Show, between 2014 and 2017. (Those were the seasons that until this month were available to us on a free streaming service, since discontinued by Amazon, because they've figured out a way to charge for those old re-runs, I suppose.) Whenever a guest on that show would mention a film, we'd look it up on Rotten Tomatoes, and if it got decent ratings we'd add it to our list. 

 But on reflection, I decided against that plan, as not being in the true spirit of the Havasu Film Festival, which since 2022 has been dedicated to providing biased and opinionated reviews of randomly selected mostly-mediocre movies. 

 And in adherence to that fine tradition, let me channel my inner Lewis and Clark and be off on another voyage of cinematic discovery.


https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/c/ce/One_of_Them_Days.jpeg
copyright Sony Pictures

One of Them Days
Starring Keke Palmer, SZA, and Katt Williams
Directed by Lawrence Lamont

 I could tell from one look at the DVD case that I was in no respect a part of the target audience for this film. I'm white, and pension-old, and have never intentionally spent more than a few hours in the 'Hood with the windows down or the doors unlocked. I did spend a few years living in a mostly-black area in my youth, but that was a middle-class neighbourhood that had no "ghetto" vibe to it, at least not that I was aware of. 

 This is a movie for the Hip-Hop crowd. Its stars are mostly young black actors, rappers and comedians, with a few older people in small roles and a couple of white women that I cannot help but think of as token whites, except that one of them plays a character that had to be white for the plot's sake. The film is a buddy comedy -- what do you call the female version of a bromance? -- pitting two struggling thirty-somethings against the world and having a really bad time of it. Things go from bad to worse, mainly because one of the two has really bad judgment.

 The action takes place in The Jungles, a neighbourhood of Los Angeles more formally known as Baldwin Village. It's not a ghetto; more a ghetto-wannabe. On reflection, it's more like my old neighbourhood than I would like it to be. It's sort of a declining middle-class area of apartments and small businesses, a place beset with gangsters, landlords and payday lenders. I don't have to go back to my old neighbourhood in Fort Worth to see the same thing; I can find it less than two miles south of my home, on San Pedro just north of downtown. 

  It's a familiar-enough plot, and it's well-written, in that the moronic characters act consistently moronic in believable ways, and the reasonably intelligent characters act reasonably intelligently, also in believable ways. The main characters are concisely developed, while the peripheral characters are mostly cut from cardboard. The performances breathing life into those characters, even the stereotypes, are mostly well done, so nothing distracts from the flow of the story, which progresses without much in the way of eye-rolling. 

 If you can believe that Palmer's character, the straight-woman Dreux, would be a long-term friend of SZA's character Alyssa, then every event in this movie is believable. No doubt people who are familiar with the patois of black Angelenos will enjoy this movie more than I did -- and thank God for closed captions -- but even I could appreciate the realistic absurdity of events in the story even if I couldn't find them especially funny. Let's say it was amusing, and held my interest; and I'd point out that I think this SZA woman*, pretty much the only cast member I'd ever heard of before seeing this movie, did a very good job of bringing her character to the screen without making her into an unbelievable farce. In short, the movie is better than I thought it would be.

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* I had only ever seen the name in print before. In the extras on the DVD, I heard it pronounced for the first time. It sounds like a posh Englishman trying to say "scissor": SIZZ-ahh. Needless to say, it's not her real name. 


copyright Lionsgate
Flight Risk
starring Mark Wahlberg, Michelle Dockery and Topher Grace
directed by Mel Gibson

 I can never keep my celebrity scandals straight. I see the name "Mel Gibson" and I think to myself, Didn't he take a golf club to some guy's windshield? But no, that was one of the Gabor sisters, wasn't it? Maybe he's the guy who got arrested for getting a blow job from a hooker in a car parked on a curb in Hollywood. No, no: that was somebody else, too, but you have to wonder about the thought process leading up to that. Maybe it was an ugly divorce? Oh, who knows. Anyway, there's a scandal attached to Gibson's name, and it'd be easy enough in this Internet age to look it up. If I cared.

 Now, the names of the three stars of this movie illustrate a phenomenon about celebrity. I recognized Mark Wahlberg's name and face immediately, even though he shaved his head in a weird way for his role here. On the other hand, Michelle Dockery's name meant nothing to me, but I knew her face right away: she had played Lady Mary in the costume drama Downton Abbey, and that put my mind on a familiar path of thinking about how well Brits do American accents, and why doesn't it work the other way 'round?

 And then there's Topher Grace. I recognized the name right off and knew he'd played one of the main characters on That Seventies Show, which my wife used to watch but I rarely saw. I was pretty sure he wasn't the cool guy, or the foreign guy, or the sexy guy, so he had to be That Other One. I mean, who could forget a name like "Topher"? But even though his face was the first thing you see in this film, I didn't recognize him, and for a good part of the opening few scenes I was wondering who the actor was. 

 The plot here is a familiar one. Topher Grace's character was a mob boss's accountant and is now on the run. Michelle Dockery plays the federal marshall aiming to bring him in. Mark Wahlberg plays the guy who shows up to fly the chartered plane taking her and her fugitive from the most remote part of Alaska to the least remote part. But somebody isn't what they seem, and Drama Ensues. It is, for the most part, believable, although one can certainly see why Dockery's US Marshall character has job-performance issues. At one point, having been specifically instructed to do things "strictly by the book," she beats the crap out of her cuffed and bound adversary while interrogating him. And while she is capable of imagining the ins and outs of a fairly complex conspiracy, it doesn't occur to her to search, even perfunctorily, the small plane's cabin for the knife that adversary used. Guess why.

 The action, once the scene is set, takes place entirely within the cabin of the small aircraft, with a number of exterior shots highlighting the rugged beauty of Alaska, though the movie was actually shot in a particularly large and elaborate sound stage in California.*

  These are all capable actors guided by a more-than-competent director. The only person to phone in their performance in this film is Leah Rimini (who literally phoned hers in; she doesn't actually appear in the film, we just hear her voice as the US Marshall's supervisor), and since the filming was actually done in the confines of an old Cessna aircraft, there were physical challenges to overcome. But that's more a consideration for the people behind the camera than the actors, who ought to be able to deliver their lines anywhere from a stage to a bathtub. 

 One of the great things about modern film technology is that special effects have become so realistic that it's often impossible for the viewer to tell how a shot was made. Was it computer-generated? Did they use a green screen (or sometimes a blue screen)? Was it a miniature? Were there matte paintings involved? Or did they actually blow up that building or run that guy over with a bus? (Probably not that, but sometimes it looks so real.) 

One of these is not like the others.
 We've come to expect a level of quality so high that the original Star Wars looks a little low-tech now. As a result, it really stands out when a special-effects shot looks like a special-effects shot. In this movie, almost all the external shots of the airplane flying, banking left or right, taking off, landing, and so on -- even a dramatic shot where the airplane miraculously survives an encounter with something other than air -- look realistic. (One wonders ... I do, anyway ... why the plane would be shown banking to the left when, at that point in the film, the pilot has just been told to "maintain that heading"; but that's just a quibble.) The one exception I can recall is a scene where we appear to be looking at a small model airplane hanging from a string. I don't know why that one shot looks so fake, but in a way it's a testament to the overall quality of the movie that it sticks out like Denzel Washington's broken finger.

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* I watched the little documentary on the DVD about the making of this movie. In addition to that sound-stage factoid, I learned that the director's right-hand man on the film only has one T-shirt, or else the whole making-of thing was filmed on a single day. Also, the T-shirt's design reminded me a little bit about what the Mel Gibson scandal was about. Matthew 6:5. Gibson is, reportedly, not well-liked in Hollywood, and I'm not surprised; but I'm cynical enough to think that lingering resentment, however well deserved, has more than a little effect on the reviews his movies get from film-industry-adjacent writers. I'm also enough of a cynic to think it utterly fatuous that the Pussy-grabber-in-Chief has appointed him "Special Ambassador to Hollywood."  
 

 

copyright Neon Films et al.
Anora
starring Mikey Madison, Mark Eydelshteyn, Yura Borisov, Karren Karagullian, and Vache Tovmasyan
directed by Sean Baker

 I'm having a hard time deciding about this film. The first parts of it are all about dissolution: Vanya Zakharov (Eydelshteyn) is the dissipated son of a wealthy Russian family, and we join him during a visit to New York City, where he meets Anora (Madison), a dancer in a strip club. I had enough experience of such places and such people to vouch for the authenticity of the film's gritty-realism presentment, but I couldn't help think that a more imaginative director could have gotten the points across without making the naked bodies seem so much the essential point of the film's first twenty minutes. I'm sure younger film fans still think that watching one actor pretend to hump another is philosophically meaningful; I, sadly, am now old enough to have learned otherwise. The video games that vie with casual-but-athletic sex for Vanya's attention have more meaning.

 Vanya seems to be living in the fast lane out of desperation. Soon, we're told, he will have to go back to Russia and work in his family's business, whatever that is. In the meanwhile, he seems determined to cram a lifetime of meaningless experiences into a few weeks. This detailed depiction of decay goes on slowly for long enough that I got bored with it, and paused the movie to go make lunch and check some emails. 

  Vanya offers Anora ("Ani. I go by Ani.") what seems to her a lot of money to be his "girlfriend" for a week. Then he proposes, seemingly sincerely, though after just having had one of those "I need a green card" conversations, one wonders that Ani, otherwise a pretty sharp character, could have bought it. To Vanya, that kind of love is just another game he plays until it's time to go back home. She, I assume -- how else to explain it? -- thinks they're in love. So they go to Las Vegas and get married.

 At this point, shit hits the fan and the movie becomes more entertaining. Vanya's godfather Toser (Karagullian), an Armenian Orthodox priest who's supposed to be keeping an eye on the manchild while he's in New York, learns to his horror that the rumours of Vanya's marriage are true. There's a long, entertainingly farcical scene where Toser's stooges Igor (Borisov) and Garnik (Tovmasyan) invade Vanya's home to keep Vanya and Ani there until Toser arrives with a half-baked plan to get the marriage annulled. Ani puts up a fight, giving viewers good comedic value, while Vanya escapes and disappears into the Metropolis. Toser, Igor, Garnik and Ani spend the night looking for him, with Toser hoping to have the entire situation resolved before Vanya's parents arrive. Unfortunately, Toser is not in possession of certain important facts and his plan fails. (By the way, the Igor and Garnik characters are about the best part of this movie, while Karagullian's performance of the Toser character -- easily the most complex character in the script -- was the one most deserving of recognition; but it wasn't him who won the Oscar.)

 If you're the kind of person who looks for meaning of a deep, philosophical sort in films, you might enjoy being able to say you saw this movie. Personally, I kind of gave up that quest after seeing other palme d'or winners in the '70s and '80s. This one struck me as a post-modern La dolce vita played for laughs. Having seen it, I feel a little used and a little dirty. 

 

copyright Bleeker Street
The Wedding Banquet
starring Bowen Yang, Lily Gladstone, Kelly Marie Tran and Han Gi-Chan
directed by Andrew Ahn

 After the surprisingly draining experience of watching Anora, I felt like a nice romantic comedy would be the thing for me. The Wedding Banquet, it turns out, is the only comedy remaining among the DVDs I picked for the Fourth Annual Havasu Film Festival Remote Edition Week One. And wouldn't you know it, it's premised on a fake marriage intended to get someone a green card. Is that the only reason people in Hollywood ever get married these days? 

 I don't think most Americans, myself included, were even aware there was such a thing as a Green Card before the Gerard Depardieu/Andie MacDowell movie of that name came out in 1990. Since then the idea of a green-card marriage has become a trope in film and TV; this movie is a remake of the 1993 Ang Lee film of the same name and (essentially) same plot, except the location has been moved from New York to Seattle. (I haven't seen the earlier version, but I'd expect that a lot of the gay-jokes in it wouldn't fly these days. We're so much more sophisticated now. Woke, and all.)  

  Maybe it's the Seattle setting, but this movie seemed to me like an extended episode of Frasier, the '90s sit-com which used to do family-secret cock-ups so intelligently. This film wisely doesn't try to match that level of wit; instead the family secret at the center of this plot -- that the Han character of Min is gay -- turns out to be an open secret that only has to be kept from the character's absent grandfather in Korea (who, Grandma says, doesn't have long to live anyway), and the implications are never dealt with. That's not what the film is about.

 What the film is about is relationships; not just romantic relationships but familial ones as well. There is a certain amount of Idiot-Plot going on, where people have inadequate motivation for their responses to events but those responses are needed to move the plot along the desired course; but it's never too great a distraction from the story. The film does a very good job of creating interest in the major characters' lives, as when it shows but doesn't explain a traditional Korean wedding ceremony. Suffice it to say that, if I'd written or directed this movie, a few minor things, as ever, would have been different. Oddly, they didn't ask me to do that, and it's too late now anyway. So despite my own lack of involvement at the front end, I found myself involved with the movie's people at the back. 

 

 As you can see from the list of links below, my reviews of movies in the Havasu Film Festivals have been getting longer and longer. This is partly because the Festivals themselves have been getting longer, going from nine films in 2022 to 21 in 2023 to 38 last year. And partly it's because I'm a 20th-Century-type guy who uses words instead of pictures to convey his thoughts. 

 So this seems like a good point at which to break this series of reviews, because I know how limited the attention span of 21st-Century readers can be where there are no emojis or gif memes to draw information from, however inaccurately. When further reviews are posted, there'll be a link somewhere down this page that says "Newer Post", and you can click on that to be magically transported to those additional prescient thoughts like Dorothy in a tornado. Please watch where you land. 

 

Links to earlier Film Festival reviews:
2024 (link to first of seven posts, including a recap)
2023 (link to first of two posts)
2022 (link to the one post)
 
 

Saturday, September 20, 2025

Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

 Well, it's gone, my pretty little roller skate. Off to Ohio, where it joins the collection of the British Transportation Museum, in Dayton. I was there a few years ago, & was surprised to see they didn't have one like it in their collection already. (There was a guy, I'm told, who promised his to the museum, but then he went and died without following through. The nerve.) 

 Mine happened to arrive during the monthly board meeting, which was the best possible time. Everybody who's seriously involved with the museum got to see it right off. It was a big hit, I'm told. 

 As it should be.

Adieu, adieu...


 Most of our travel is in the Subaru anyway, because we take Carly everywhere we can, and she's really not a fan of convertibles. So not having one will mean I have one less reason to go a-wandering ... and that's an activity that is less appealing overall anyway. I have to go so far to get to a place I've never been before, it becomes burdensome: the closest new counties to my home are in Massachusetts, Montana and California (and beyond). That's a lot of miles before I get there.