‘I Care a Lot’ Is Worth Caring About

‘I Care a Lot’ Is Worth Caring About

By Alex McPherson

Featuring an incredible lead performance from Rosamund Pike, “I Care A Lot” is a darkly comedic roller coaster ride from start to finish. 

Marla Grayson (Pike) bases her life around taking advantage of senior citizens through fraudulent guardianships. In an unforgiving world, she believes only the most cutthroat will succeed. Once she or her girlfriend, Fran (Eiza González), finds a well-off elder, Marla acquires court permission to install herself as their “legal guardian.” She then takes charge of their finances and imprisons them in a care facility where they’re cut off from the outside world — all the while draining the poor saps of their money and sense of self.   

Suffice it to say, Marla is a stone cold sociopath. She exerts a palpable influence on those around her and rarely loses control of any situation she’s in. When she targets Jennifer Peterson (Dianne Wiest), Marla garners the attention of Jennifer’s donut-loving son, Roman Lunyov (Peter Dinklage), who also happens to be a sadistic drug smuggler. Marla and Fran must reckon with the deadly consequences. 

With shades of “Sorry to Bother You” and “Uncut Gems” sprinkled throughout, director J Blakeson’s film makes up for its lack of substance with memorable characters and an unpredictable plot.

Indeed, there aren’t many sympathetic folks in this story of greed, opportunism, and the American Dream. Viewers looking for people to root for won’t find any here. On the other hand, much of the fun of “I Care A Lot” comes from watching them destroy each other in a bloody battle of wits. As the stakes escalate for Marla and Fran, the film only grows more entertaining — not holding up to much scrutiny, but clever enough to leave a lasting impression.

Marla is a cunning, calculating, and compulsive individual. She’s able to shift personas on a whim to match different situations, always aware of her manipulative power and unflinching in the face of threats to her personal safety. These threats are usually toothless, until now. Pike absolutely dominates the screen, capturing her character’s heartlessness in a way that dares viewers to question her strength. Marla will snatch any opportunity to increase her wealth, always planning two steps ahead of her competition. It’s undeniably satisfying watching her pull strings for her personal gain — her razor-sharp dialogue simultaneously humorous and disheartening. 

 A troubled past is alluded to, but Blakeson doesn’t give Marla an involved backstory. Rather, she is an enigma who nevertheless cares deeply for her lover, Fran. This bond, though underdeveloped, gives Marla a shred of humanity despite her vile behavior.

The film’s clean, glossy shot compositions early on reflect Marla’s mastery of an amoral system disguised by artificial warmth. Later on, however, we’re able to see Marla stripped of her safety and command of the proceedings. The film’s style changes accordingly, evocative of a graphic novel and the volatile figure at the heart of it.

Marla’s a compelling antihero, earning some hard-earned respect by the film’s conclusion, but always remaining emotionally distanced. The other characters aren’t nearly as interesting, but there’s still a few standouts. Dinklage gives a scene-stealing performance as Roman, an unstable crime boss who, in a neat twist, actually has more sympathetic motivations than Marla does. Wiest is also wonderful, keeping viewers on edge regarding who Jennifer actually is.

Propelled by an eerie, synth-heavy score by Marc Canham, “I Care A Lot” moves along at a swift pace, but falters a bit by its heavy-handed finale. Plot holes abound, and Blakeson misses an opportunity to explore Marla’s psychology in more depth. Similarly, the film doesn’t add anything particularly unique in terms of social commentary — spotlighting a real-world issue of corrupt conservatorships, but adding little else to the conversation, launching itself into the firmly unbelievable.

Regardless of its missed potential, “I Care A Lot” is still a dastardly enjoyable film that fans of pitch black comedy should lap up.

“I Care a Lot” is a dark comedy thriller written and directed by J Blakeson, starring Rosamund Pike, Peter Dinklage, Dianne Wiest and Eiza Gonzalez. It is Rated R for language throughout and some violence, and the run time is 1 hour, 58 minutes. Alex’s Rating: B+. Available on Netflix as of Feb. 19. 

Despite Flaws, ‘Crisis’ Is an Informative Multi-Faceted Look at America’s Drug Problem

Despite Flaws, ‘Crisis’ Is an Informative Multi-Faceted Look at America’s Drug Problem

By Alex McPherson
Writer-director Nicholas Jarecki’s third feature directorial effort, “Crisis,” provides an ambitious and gritty look at America’s opioid epidemic.

Jarecki’s film centers around three individuals experiencing the issue from wildly different angles. Dr. Tyrone Brower (Gary Oldman) is a biochemist and university professor testing a new “non-addictive” painkiller developed by Northlight, a large pharmaceutical company.

After running experiments on lab rats, Brower finds that the drug is, in fact, dangerously addictive. Unsurprisingly, both the company and Brower’s university aren’t too pleased with this conclusion. Northlight officials offer Brower’s university a large grant in exchange for falsifying the data — paving the way for its FDA approval. Brower becomes a whistleblower, and he must deal with the repercussions for both his personal and professional life.

Viewers also meet Jake Kelly (Armie Hammer, undergoing his own career in crisis), a law enforcement agent working undercover amidst Armenian and Canadian drug traffickers, the latter of whom is led by a burly sap named Mother (Guy Nadon). Kelly also cares for his unstable, drug-addicted sister, Emmie (Lily Rose-Depp). Pressured to make arrests by his newly hired supervisor, Garrett (Michelle Rodriguez), Kelly and his work partner, Stanley Foster (Jarecki), attempt to set up a sting operation by bringing the two rival groups together. Suffice it to say, complications arise, and the bodies start piling up.

But wait, there’s more! The film follows architect and former addict Claire Reimann (Evangeline Lilly), who seeks revenge after her teenage son, David (Billy Bryk), is suddenly found dead in broad daylight, after having died from an apparent drug overdose. Reimann soon uncovers a deeper, more sinister plot. She desperately seeks answers as her world crumbles around her.

Whew, and all that unfolds in a two-hour film?! Yes, dear reader, “Crisis” provides a lot to chew on, to say the least. Even though the film’s emotional impact is undermined by a jack-of-all-trades approach, these stories, inspired from true events, still hold a certain power. 

Indeed, I appreciate the topics covered — showing how ordinary people become enveloped in an epidemic pervaded by violence and the preying of those less fortunate. Even though the film’s condemnation of corporate greed and the ways addiction destroys lives isn’t anything particularly new, this is still essential information, packaged into an accessible (though at times bland) thriller/modern noir hybrid.

As the film alternates between these three characters, “Crisis” effectively puts a human face on the suffering inflicted by profiteers on the general population. Reimann stands out in particular. She’s wracked with grief and driven by a fierce, self-destructive determination. We really feel for her, and Lilly’s performance, uncompromising and vivid, stands out from the rest.

Brower’s plotline involves a lot of sitting and talking, but remains compelling throughout. Of course, the shadiness of some pharmaceutical companies has long been clear, and it’s impossible for a single man to stand up to them. It’s easy to see the trajectory of Brower’s story, but the film provides several moments of righteous indignation, where Oldman (always an endearing actor) raises his voice and argues for truth over lies.

That brings us to Kelly. Although Hammer’s portrayal is a bit muted at times, his underlying rage is apparent. It’s a shame, then, that “Crisis” doesn’t let us spend more time with him and his sister outside of his undercover operations. The scenarios he finds himself in feel similar to practically every other crime film I’ve seen. 

What results is a film painted with broad strokes rather than a more focused exploration of any particular character. These stories would have benefited from a television-style format, where specific episodes are devoted to specific characters. Bouncing back and forth between them, “Crisis” doesn’t leave much time for reflection. Add to that a Hollywoodized finale that breaks from reality and ties some characters’ arcs up into a neat bow, and we have a film that ultimately underwhelms.

Similarly, Jarecki’s filmmaking techniques are competent, but they lack flair or a distinctive style — clean and precise without remaining particularly memorable.

All this aside, “Crisis” is still highly watchable, and at times quite suspenseful. It’s a shame that recent revelations about Hammer will likely deter many viewers from watching it, as there’s much to enjoy, especially in regard to Reimann’s journey and Lilly’s heart-wrenching performance.

“Crisis” remains a solid recommendation, despite its overstuffed nature, and tackles subject matter that shouldn’t fade from public consciousness.

“Crisis” is a drama written and directed by Nicholas Jarecki, starring Gary Oldman, Evangeline Lilly, Armie Hammer, Lily-Rose Depp, BIlly Bryk and Greg Kinnear. Rated R for drug content, violence, and language throughout, the run time is 1 hour, 58 minutes. It will be released in theaters Feb. 26 and on video on demand March 5. Alex’s Rating: B

Studio Ghibli’s ‘Earwig and the Witch’ Casts a Generic Spell

Studio Ghibli’s ‘Earwig and the Witch’ Casts a Generic Spell

By Alex McPherson

Studio Ghibli’s latest project, “Earwig and the Witch,” is a bland film lacking depth and imagination.

The story, based on Diana Wynne Jones’ book, follows Earwig (Taylor Paige Henderson), a young girl living in an orphanage in the British countryside. As a baby, she was abandoned by her mother (Kacey Musgraves), a witch fleeing powerful forces seeking her demise. Earwig, quite a bubbly individual, is content living there with her pal, Custard (Logan Hannon), and has zero interest in moving away.

Her fortunes change when she’s adopted by an imposing, scraggly haired witch named Bella Yaga (Vanessa Marshall) and her spindly, short-tempered husband named Mandrake (Richard E. Grant). Earwig becomes Yaga’s servant — mopping floors and preparing ingredients for her potions. She soon befriends a talking cat named Thomas (Dan Stevens). “Coraline,” much? As the days pass by, Earwig is trapped within this toxic household, unless she can find a way out.

Before all else, dear readers, we must address the film’s controversial animation style. Eschewing the hand-drawn techniques typical of other Studio Ghibli films, “Earwig and the Witch” relies entirely on computer-generated imagery. As a result, environments are rendered with striking attention to detail, but characters’ facial expressions lack nuance, leaving them lifeless and difficult to latch onto. Similarly, characters bluntly explain what they’re feeling at any given moment, perhaps attempting to compensate for their doll-like appearances. 

Director Goro Miyasaki (the son of legendary director Hayao Miyasaki) should be commended for breaking from tradition, I suppose. Regardless of the animation, “Earwig and the Witch” still ends up being a rather stale affair.

Unfortunately, Earwig remains irritating from start to finish. She’s fearless and perpetually optimistic. Miyazaki effectively juxtaposes her initial freedom with the repressiveness of her new environment, but she fails to grow in any meaningful way over the course of the film. Ironically, the life lessons we’re force-fed later on don’t apply to Earwig herself.

As she investigates her surroundings, the pacing slows to a crawl. Indeed, “Earwig and the Witch” extends the dullest aspects of her predicament to fill the entire runtime, becoming repetitive and mind numbing leading up to its exposition-packed conclusion. Nothing much of importance happens, as Earwig and her feline companion (primarily relegated to comedy relief) wander around aimlessly without a clear objective. Shouldn’t they want to escape? There’s no driving force to this plot, and little preventing me from watching something else.

Everything changes in the last 15 minutes, however. We’re bombarded with backstory that’s far more compelling than anything Earwig’s involved in, a sad reminder of the film that could have been. Additionally, the visuals stay frustratingly limited until the finale — providing fleeting moments of spectacle that the film should have embraced more consistently. Familiar themes are broached, including music’s communal power, but little stands out, and the end credits sequence leaves more emotional impact than anything in the main plot. 

At least the voice cast does an acceptable job with what they’re given. Grant stands out in particular, conveying Mandrake’s grumbling, volatile demeanor in an intimidating fashion.

Small children might enjoy the film’s simplistic narrative and cutesy, occasionally spooky vibes, but everyone else should steer clear and (re)watch “Coraline” instead. It pains me to write this, as a Studio Ghibli fan, but “Earwig and the Witch” just feels pointless.

“Earwig and the Witch” is an animated fantasy adventure film directed by Goro Miyasaki. It is rated PG for some scary images and rude material and run time is 1 hour, 22 minutes. Alex’s Rating: C-

‘Rock Camp: The Movie’ Is Surface-Level Tribute

‘Rock Camp: The Movie’ Is Surface-Level Tribute

By Alex McPherson

“Rock Camp: The Movie,” directed by Douglas Blush and Renee Barron, remains charming in-the-moment, but disappoints upon further reflection.

The film centers around Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp, an annual event in Las Vegas where ordinary folks can jam out with famous musicians. “Camp counselors” include Paul Stanley, Roger Daltrey, and Nancy Wilson, among many others. Once paired with a counselor, campers practice tunes together until their miniature bands perform at the end of the week. 

The camp was created by David Fishoff, a former sports agent turned music promoter who helped create Ringo Starr’s All Starr Band. An eccentric, bubbly individual, Fishoff loved hanging out with rock legends, and he was inspired to let others share in that thrill. Thus, in 1997 Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp was born. After an, ahem, rocky start, it eventually became a cultural phenomenon, even acknowledged by “The Simpsons,” “Bones,” “Ellen,” and “Pawn Stars.”

Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp has delighted attendees year after year ever since. The spirit of collaboration and shared love of music is infectious. Sign up today, if you have several thousand bucks to spare! Indeed, “Rock Camp: The Movie” reminds me more of an advertisement than anything else — albeit an especially heartwarming one. 

At least Fishoff’s intentions are admirable. There’s joy to be found in watching fans live out their musical fantasies, and “Rock Camp: The Movie” is often touching in this regard. Viewers see a young musician with autism embracing his passion for guitar; an ISSM network specialist finally being recognized for his skills as a drummer; a guitarist experiencing the camp with his son who has brain damage; a realty trust controller learning how to sing professionally — everyone finding joy through participation in the camp. These stories are resonant, to varying degrees, targeting larger truths about art’s power to heal, inspire, and bring people together, even though the campers’ privilege shows.

When the focus shifts away from the campers themselves, “Rock Camp: The Movie” becomes considerably less compelling. Watching rockers such as Alice Cooper, Gene Simmons, and Tony Franklin describe the camp’s significance to them lacks impact. Sure, fans will likely get a kick out of seeing genre legends reflect on how the camp reinvigorated their lives. Coming from someone with little knowledge of who these people are, on the other hand, I found listening to them reminisce becomes somewhat repetitive by the film’s conclusion, and the life lessons they impart of pursuing one’s dreams aren’t especially remarkable.

Additionally, the documentary depicts the proceedings with rose-tinted glasses and only spotlights those with positive stories to tell. Having all these personalities interacting would inevitably result in some sort of conflict, right? Viewers are left with a relentlessly upbeat film that provides plenty of warmth and wholesomeness, but feels too sanitized for its own good. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for many of the attendees, and it’s a shame that “Rock Camp” doesn’t mine more emotion from the event itself, coming across as a bit self-serving.

Similarly, although the film’s editing doesn’t do much to distinguish itself, “Rock Camp: The Movie” unfolds at a breezy pace, capturing the idiosyncratic nature of many of its subjects, as well as campers’ excitement and nervous anticipation. 

Perhaps the film would have benefited from focusing on a single group of individuals from day one, allowing us to spend more time with them while providing a clearer throughline leading up to the final night of performances.

Above all else, however, Blush and Barron’s documentary feels like a beacon of sunshine through the darkness, and that alone warrants a recommendation. “Rock Camp: The Movie” is a shallow yet uplifting slice of entertainment that accomplishes what it sets out to do without reaching #1 in the charts.

‘Rock Camp: The Movie” is a documentary written and directed by Douglas Blush and Renee Barron. Run-time is 1 hour, 27 minutes, and it is not rated. Available Feb. 16 as a video on demand. Alex’s Rating: B

‘The World to Come’ is Romance in Dangerous Setting

‘The World to Come’ is Romance in Dangerous Setting

By Alex McPherson
The film unfolds during the late 1850s, somewhere along the East Coast of the US. In the midst of a harsh winter, Abigail (Katherine Waterston) lives on a farm with her emotionally distant husband, Dyer (Casey Affleck). They’re gradually drifting apart, trapped by circumstance and grieving the death of their young daughter. They depend on each other but avoid addressing the underlying problems in their relationship. Abigail, an intelligent, highly literate individual, finds some solace through writing in her diary, where she can freely express herself.

Abigail eventually falls for Tallie (Vanessa Kirby), an alluring woman moving in nearby. Tallie lives with her husband, Finney (Christopher Abbott), a cold-hearted farmer who insists that she remain his subordinate. As Abigail and Tallie’s friendship grows into something more, the two must persevere through extreme adversity within a world seemingly operating against them.

Although “The World to Come” provides few surprises, it does an admirable job at establishing Abigail and Tallie as three-dimensional individuals imprisoned by the norms that are forced upon them. The film’s patient, deliberate pacing also belies a searing anger at the ways they are treated by society at large.

“The World to Come” initially feels like a horror film, as viewers observe a bleak, snow-covered landscape matched by a fractured household. Narration from Abigail’s diary, which continues somewhat repetitively throughout the film, establishes her mourning for her previous life with her husband and child. This is combined with a clarinet-based score that ebbs and flows in keeping with her turbulent emotions and unpredictable environment.

Tallie, also enduring a troubled relationship, is more courageous in the face of others’ standards. Abigail and Tallie’s bond —  convincingly portrayed by Waterston and Kirby with meaningful glances and sharp enough dialogue —  offers them both an opportunity to chart a new path forward. Tallie provides Abigail a chance to symbolically fight back against what’s expected of her, putting her written thoughts into action. The moments they share, satisfying each other both sexually and intellectually, lend the proceedings a wistful tone, contrasted by moments of brutality in their surroundings. 

 Abigail and Tallie are enveloped in passion, even if their romance was doomed from the start. Like the place they inhabit — winter turning into spring, captured with painterly cinematography by André Chemetoff — their bond is fraught with danger, but also offers enticing possibilities for, if I may, their world to come.

The acting is exceptional across the board, with Waterston and Kirby giving standout performances. From the moment they lay eyes on each other, their chemistry is palpable. The dialogue they’re saddled with, on the other hand, is often lyrical but sometimes heavy-handed, eliciting eye rolls rather than swoons on several occasions.

Affleck gives a strong performance as Dyer, bringing him additional depth that earns him sympathy down the road. Abbott’s character, Finney, is portrayed in a bluntly toxic fashion —  his religiously charged dialogue hits viewers over the head and renders his character detestable, yet sadly recognizable.

The film’s conclusion leaves too much up in the air, however, and misses an opportunity to distinguish itself from other similar narratives. Like the future that Abigail envisions in her diary, though, the film ultimately encourages us to believe in one where justice is served, and where individuals have the freedom to chase their desires. Art has the power to convey deeply felt emotions and preserve them — Abigail’s diary becoming more than a simple journal, and the film itself open to interpretation. 

While I wish “The World to Come” had subverted genre expectations to a greater extent, the film remains worth watching for its performances, atmospheric cinematography, and overall poignant storyline.

“The World to Come” is a 2020 drama, directed by Mona Fastvold and starring Katherine Waterston, Vanessa Kirby, Casey Affleck and Christopher Abbott. Rated R for some sexuality/nudity, the run time is 1 hour, 38 minutes. The movie premiered at the 2021 Sundance Film Festival and will be in theatres on Feb. 12. Alex’s Rating: B+ 

‘Judas and the Black Messiah’ Is Intense, Heartbreaking Ode to Activism

‘Judas and the Black Messiah’ Is Intense, Heartbreaking Ode to Activism

By Alex McPherson
Director Shaka King’s new film, “Judas and the Black Messiah,” is a visceral exploration of resistance, sacrifice, betrayal, and legacy.

The film takes place in late 1960s Chicago, where tensions are high between the Illinois Black Panther party and law enforcement. Amid the aftermath of recent political assassinations, Panther Deputy Chairman Fred Hampton (Daniel Kaluuya) is growing increasingly influential. Hampton, only 21 years old, is a passionate leader who seeks to advance the self-determination of black people to rebel against injustice, calling for cultural revolution. He establishes programs providing food, education, and medical care to local communities. He also unites disparate groups across Chicago under shared fury at the powers that be, including an all-white group called the Young Patriots.

Despite all that Hampton does for the community, however, FBI director J. Edgar Hoover, monstrously played by Martin Sheen, sees Hampton’s growing impact as a threat and formulates a plot to eliminate him by any means necessary. FBI agent Roy Mitchell, played with surprising nuance by Jesse Plemons, recruits a youthful, petty criminal named William O’Neal (Lakeith Stanfield) to infiltrate the Black Panther Party and become an informant, in exchange for his freedom from jail time. As O’Neal starts ascending through the ranks — eventually becoming Hampton’s security chief — he starts to question what he’s doing and whose side he’s really on.

The following events are often enraging and sobering. Indeed, “Judas and the Black Messiah” is a deeply moving film, depicting its subjects with depth while spotlighting historical events that remain scarily relevant today.

Through focusing on a condensed period of time, King’s film isn’t a mere biopic of Hampton or O’Neal. Rather, viewers are thrown into a warzone twisted by prejudice and misinformation. This was a volatile period in Chicago’s history, as well as a formative time for several of the film’s subjects. As Hampton’s political prowess grows, so do the malevolent machinations operating behind the scenes. Through the film’s crisp cinematography, expressive score, and harrowing scenarios, we can practically taste the danger in the air. The suspense is palpable, both of cultural change and of violence looming on the horizon.

It’s a bold decision to frame the proceedings through O’Neal’s perspective. Though his actions are often reprehensible, “Judas and the Black Messiah” paints him in an empathetic fashion, where we can see his inner turmoil. Trapped in a precarious situation, both the manipulator and the manipulated, O’Neal is an intriguing enigma throughout the film. “Judas and the Black Messiah” contains several nail-biting scenes where O’Neal escapes by the skin of his teeth — slyly grinning to himself when the coast is clear, but also realizing the constant danger he’s in, and his own growing attachment to the Panther cause. 

Stanfield’s performance is downright incredible, capturing O’Neal’s selfishness and slippery nature, but also his discomfort and mental conflict as the film progresses. Although some viewers may take issue with his lack of clear-cut motivation, King and co-writer Will Berson refuse to simplify him for entertainment purposes. O’Neal is a flawed individual, who we may never truly understand. In the film, he comes across as a tragic figure, battling for a sense of self amid delusion, propaganda, and frontline interaction with the Panthers themselves.

This lends the proceedings an uncomfortable tone, as we simultaneously care about O’Neal, but also reel from the actions he takes to undermine the Panthers’ cause. Although I appreciate his complex portrayal, “Judas and the Black Messiah” misses an opportunity to elaborate on his attachment, or lack thereof, to the Panthers. The film rushes through his time spent in the Party early on, and the film’s emotional core could have been strengthened by showing more of his interactions with Hampton in particular. 

Hampton isn’t portrayed quite as three-dimensionally as O’Neal, but the film effectively establishes his skills as an orator and as someone who truly cares about the people he’s serving. Kaluyya gives a powerful, soaring performance, where Hampton’s bravery as a leader is on full display. His girlfriend, Deborah Johnson (Dominique Fishback), helps him mature over the course of the film, as he reckons with the weight of his responsibilities for his personal life and the legacy he leaves behind. 

We also get several quieter scenes of Hampton reflecting on his life, helping to ground his character in relatable, personable emotions beneath his in-your-face persona. He reckons with how he’s perceived by the FBI, along with the consequences his passionate rhetoric has on his followers. While I wish the film had provided more of these intimate moments, “Judas and the Black Messiah” showcases the tragedy of a groundbreaking life of activism cut short by forces emboldened by racism and lust for power.

Despite the film’s missed potential in exploring the relationship between Hampton and O’Neal, “Judas and the Black Messiah” remains a must-watch cinematic experience — spotlighting a heroic figure, while encouraging viewers to fight for a more equitable world for future generations.

“Judas and the Black Messiah” is a dramatic biopic directed and co-written by Shaka King, starring LaKeith Stanfield, Daniel Kaluuya, Dominique Fishback, Jesse Plemons, Lil Rel Howery, and Martin Sheen. It runs 2 hours 6 minutes. Alex’s Rating: A- Now playing in theaters and on HBOMax Feb. 12

‘Assassins’ Expose Is a Journalistic Achievement

‘Assassins’ Expose Is a Journalistic Achievement

By Alex McPherson
Director Ryan White’s “Assassins” is a scathing indictment of North Korean politics and a timely reminder of the lengths that some people will go to retain power.

On February 13, 2017, Kim Jong-nam, the half-brother of Kim Jong-un, was fatally poisoned in broad daylight at Kuala Lumpur International Airport in Malaysia. Security cameras recorded two young women, the Indonesian-born Siti Aisyah and Vietnamese-born Doan Thi Huong, carrying out the deed, rinsing the poison off their hands, and leaving the airport. Siti and Doan were arrested a couple days later, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of what they had just done. Per the Malaysian legal system, they both faced the death penalty if found guilty of the murder. Are Siti and Doan highly skilled assassins, or are they mere pawns being controlled by larger forces?

White’s film, composed of interviews with those involved in the events themselves and the investigation, seeks to uncover these answers. As the larger plot is unearthed, “Assassins” becomes a persuasive ode to journalism and empathy for those marginalized, arguing for justice in a world plagued by selfishness and brutality. The film often proves heartbreaking, upsetting, and downright infuriating. We witness the truth being obscured by power hungry individuals only interested in protecting themselves, no matter the cost. 

Through relying on plain-spoken interviewees, this increasingly complex tale is presented in an accessible fashion, ensuring that practically anyone can get wrapped up in the proceedings. Expectations might be subverted, and previous notions of culpability and victimhood may be upended — all through the film’s empathetic eye and outlining of cold, hard evidence.

While White’s filmmaking lacks a distinctive style, the central events and subsequent investigation are more than enough to keep viewers engaged. In a way, though, the film doesn’t need additional cinematic flourishes to render it compelling. Feelings of dread and suspense are palpable, and it’s easy to become enthralled by the film’s drama based on the subjects alone. White’s film is a no-frills affair, embracing the journalistic process and taking time to explore the backgrounds of Siti and Doan, as well as North Korea generally, with strong attention to detail.

Indeed, as we learn more about Siti and Doan — who had no previous connections to North Korea — we see two individuals being exploited by larger pressures operating behind the scenes, leading them down a path that, unbeknownst to them, involved political assassination. Siti and Doan’s portrayals aren’t simplified for dramatic purposes, and “Assassins” quickly establishes them as sympathetic individuals, coming from loving families and humble origins, with their own hopes and dreams, but remaining vulnerable and naive amid a world drenched in ambiguity.

“Assassins” also provides a blunt crash course on North Korean history, detailing the rivalry between Kim Jong-un and Kim Jong-nam. The film makes a strong argument that, well, Kim Jong-un is an unstable, murderous leader, as if that wasn’t already obvious — all the more nauseating that former President Donald Trump cuddled up to him.

By the film’s conclusion, I was shaken, and surprised at how emotionally invested I had become in Siti and Doan’s struggles. I’m grateful that films like “Assassins” exist to help spotlight individuals and truths previously silenced — depicting human stories with universal appeal and sobering repercussions for modern society. This gripping documentary, in particular, remains among the most effective I’ve ever seen, and is unquestionably worth seeking out. 

“Assassins” is a documentary directed by Ryan White. It is 104 minutes. It is available Video on Demand on multiple platforms. Alex Rating: A .

Small Axe’s ‘Red, White and Blue’ Is a Tragic, Essential Story

Small Axe’s ‘Red, White and Blue’ Is a Tragic, Essential Story

By Alex McPherson

Director Steve McQueen’s “Red, White and Blue,” the third installment of “Small Axe,” provides a heartbreaking look at racism within policing, and a thought-provoking, brilliantly acted character study.

“Red, White and Blue” depicts the true story of Leroy Logan (John Boyega), a forensic scientist living in London during the early 1980s with his West Indian family. Yearning to more directly impact the community he resides in, Leroy considers joining the local police force. After his father, Kenneth (Steve Touissant), is beaten by a couple of officers seemingly at random, Leroy’s motivation to become involved heightens, despite Kenneth’s fierce objection.

While Leroy understands the difficulties that this career choice entails, he believes, somewhat idealistically, that he can shift attitudes and mindsets from within it, helping to combat the flaws pervading policing. Although Leroy receives support from his loving wife, Gretl (Antonia Thomas), and family friend Jesse (Nadine Marshall), who works as a liaison for the Met, he soon finds himself ostracized by his own community and encounters challenges that leave him scarred and exhausted, yet ever aware that major systemic change must occur.

Featuring an absolutely incredible lead performance, and a story that viscerally showcases the difficulty of fighting a system much larger than any single person, “Red, White and Blue” is a sobering exploration of injustice and family bonds, providing some of the most powerful moments of the entire “Small Axe” series.

Similar to “Mangrove,” McQueen spends ample time establishing who Leroy is as a person and detailing his relationships with friends and family members, particularly his father. Leroy is an admirable, strong-willed individual with a warm heart and diligent work ethic, who’s determined to make a noticeable impact in the police force. He puts in his all, even outperforming a number of his peers in police training. Boyega is an endearing presence throughout the film, portraying Leroy’s skepticism and self-doubt later on with heartbreaking impact. 

Indeed, “Red, White and Blue” grows increasingly grim as it goes on, as Leroy’s own end goals seemingly slip away from him. The film frequently slows down to focus on Boyega’s reactions and Leroy’s self-reflection. As Leroy looks at himself in the mirror, for example, dressed up in uniform, we understand the inner conflict he feels, and appreciate the threats and dangers he faces in this line of work. With only one other person of color on the force with him, Leroy feels adrift and alienated practically wherever he goes, lacking figurative reinforcements to help him achieve his vision.  

Although he receives some aforementioned support from family members, Kenneth adamantly opposes Leroy’s decision to become a police officer — believing that Leroy is squandering his education to become involved in an organization pervaded by prejudice, putting his own and his family’s way of life at risk. In fact, this father-son relationship remains the film’s emotional core, providing two valid yet conflicting mentalities that provide much food for thought.

 Finding a balance between Leroy and Kenneth’s views is quite challenging — a balance between comfort and risk, between change and maintaining the status quo. McQueen depicts them both as weathered, wise individuals eventually sharing an understanding that they exist in a world where change is often slight and difficult to achieve, yet always worth fighting for, even if it means starting from scratch. As a result, “Red, White and Blue” lacks clear resolution or a sense of catharsis, ending on a note of meditative reflection that resonates with me long after the credits rolled. 

Despite the film’s intensity, however, there’s still much to relish in “Red, White and Blue,” just like the other “Small Axe” entries. McQueen’s attention to period detail is on full display, with a soundtrack featuring Al Green songs that infuses the proceedings with added emotional and symbolic weight.

The cinematography by Shabier Kirchner is outstanding, once again, containing numerous shots — especially during an atmospheric, nail-biting sequence where Leroy tracks down a criminal on his own — that have etched themselves into my psyche.

Even though I wish McQueen would have shown more of Leroy’s life story, such as his founding of the Black Police Association, the power of “Red, White and Blue” is undeniable. This is yet another fantastic entry in McQueen’s “Small Axe” series, tragic yet essential viewing. Although little has seemingly changed regarding policing between then and now, the film remains a testament to bravery, heroism, and perseverance to confront social issues that remain sadly relevant today.

“Red, White and Blue” is part of the “Small Axe” anthology, directed by Steve McQueen, that is a part of a TV mini-series on Amazon Prime. The drama’s run time is 1 hour, 20 minutes. Alex’s Rating: A

Small Axe’s ‘Lovers Rock’ an Atmospheric Triumph

Small Axe’s ‘Lovers Rock’ an Atmospheric Triumph

By Alex McPherson
Director Steve McQueen’s “Lovers Rock,” the second installment of “Small Axe,” is a masterful work of art that enriches both the mind and soul.

Taking place almost entirely within a West London house party in the 1980s, “Lovers Rock” visualizes the thrill of an escape from day-to-day life. Love is in the air, particularly for West Indian immigrants Martha (Amarah-Jae St. Aubyn) and Franklyn (Michael Ward), as the reggae music plays on. Although threats of violence lurk on the periphery, this get together brims with joy — providing Black partygoers with an energizing escape from an unforgiving world.

Despite its minimalist premise, there’s much to absorb in “Lovers Rock,” from the ingenious cinematography to the thought-provoking themes being explored. This is a film for anyone who appreciates the craft of filmmaking and the ways the medium can transport viewers to a different time and place. In fact, anyone with a heartbeat can enjoy McQueen’s film on some level.

From start to finish, we feel right there with the characters, and anticipation for the evening is palpable. McQueen makes use of all the senses to set the mood and establish the gathering as an alluring, rapturous haven. 

When the film begins, we see a crew maneuvering sound equipment, the camera capturing each click and clack of cables snapping into place. All the while, a group of women cook curry in the background, enthusiastically singing the main chorus of Janet Kay’s “Silly Games” as delicious aromas waft through the surroundings. Smell-O-Vision be damned, this gets the job done equally as well.

When the party begins, “Lovers Rock” becomes downright mesmerizing. I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen for the film’s entire 68-minute runtime. Indeed, I became despondent when the end credits rolled, wishing I could keep watching for another hour. 

While reggae music blasts through the speakers, viewers feel in the middle of the action, as the camera weaves throughout the environment to capture moments of both sensual intimacy and rambunctious exuberance among the partygoers. “Lovers Rock” all but encourages viewers to get up and dance along with them, welcoming us to join in a meaningful experience.

It’s difficult to convey just how effective McQueen’s approach is, an example of pure cinematic bliss that conveys its atmosphere with precision and tactile, sensory detail. Just make sure you turn on subtitles because, like at any party, it’s difficult to sometimes understand what people are saying.  

Amid all the dancing and romance, however, lie themes that ensure “Lovers Rock” works on a deeper level beyond its immersive qualities. We get the sense that the partygoers want to hold onto these moments as long as possible — their fears and sorrows disappearing, if only for a brief time, in the party’s intoxicating vibes and ample possibilities. 

One powerful sequence in particular involves the partygoers engaging in an extended a-capella rendition of “Silly Games,” infusing the lyrics with a bittersweet, mournful weight as they repeat the chorus over and over again, long after the music stops playing.

The party represents an egalitarian space, in a sense, and McQueen meaningfully contrasts it with the harshness of the outside world, and the racism the central characters endure out in it.

The film also emphasizes that safety isn’t guaranteed within the party itself, even when one feels most comfortable. Bammy, for example (suavely portrayed by Daniel Francis-Swaby), lures some characters, and potentially viewers themselves, into a false sense of security as troubling impulses take hold down the road.

In this way, “Lovers Rock” depicts a different kind of rebellion than “Mangrove,” one against the challenges of everyday life via a gathering that reaches transcendent heights, while still containing its own dangers. McQueen’s film shows people grabbing hold of a moment and cherishing it, creating a sense of communal joy and togetherness stronger than the forces of injustice — over too soon, but life-affirming and oh, so enjoyable.

Will this film receive another A+, you may ask? Why yes, yes it will.

“Lovers Rock” is part of “Small Axe,” an anthology directed by Steve McQueen that is an Amazon Prime TV mini-series. This drama’s run-time is 1 hour, 10 min. Alex’s Rating: A+, 


Small Axe’s ‘Mangrove’ Is Stirring Call to Action

Small Axe’s ‘Mangrove’ Is Stirring Call to Action

By Alex McPherson

“Mangrove,” the first installment of director Steve McQueen’s “Small Axe” anthology series, is harrowing, inspirational, and relevant to our modern social climate.

McQueen’s film focuses on the events leading up to and including the 1970 trial of the Mangrove Nine in London. Entrepreneur and Trinidaddian immigrant Frank Crichlow (portrayed by Shaun Parkes with emotional nuance) opens a business in Notting Hill called the Mangrove, intent on providing good food and better vibes without attracting unwanted attention. The restaurant soon becomes a popular community hub, especially for West Indian individuals.

Unfortunately, the local Police Constable Pulley (Sam Spruell) harasses both Crichlow and other people of color with malevolent glee — ordering several destructive raids on the Mangrove in the process. Played with blood-boiling effectiveness by Spruell, PC Pulley firmly believes in the subordination of Black people, attacking a location where many find comfort and respite.

 Before long, Altheia Jones-Lecointe (powerfully portrayed by Letitia Wright), a founder of the British Black Panther Movement, as well as activists Barbara Beese (Rochenda Sandall) and Darcus Howe (Malachi Kirby), help persuade Crichlow to protest against police brutality at the Mangrove. Their attempted peaceful demonstration is turned violent by the police. Facing serious charges, the film then becomes an intense, nail-biting courtroom drama, as the Mangrove Nine confront injustice and police brutality in the face of monumental obstacles and risks to their personal safety. 

“Mangrove” is visceral, empathetic, and deeply moving — showcasing the fraught yet essential nature of activism within a systemically oppressive world. The film also remains both empowering and sobering in light of the continued fight for social justice in 2021 and beyond.

Indeed, the film captures a wide emotional spectrum — joy, hatred, anguish, defiance, hope, and perseverance — and depicts a story of determined individuals ever-so-slightly chipping away at the institutional racism that has dominated human society for so long and continues to do so. 

“Mangrove” contains numerous upsetting, sobering moments, but McQueen’s film doesn’t exploit its subjects for dramatic purposes. Rather, McQueen sets the scene perfectly — helping us understand what’s at stake, appreciate the challenges faced by the Mangrove Nine, and understand the comforting essence of the Mangrove itself through immersive filmmaking techniques and lived-in characterizations. 

Cinematographer Shabier Kirchner isn’t afraid to linger on images (a kitchen pan rolling back and forth along the floor after a raid; a silhouette of Altheia giving an impassioned speech with her fist raised) to lend them additional impact. Similarly, the script doesn’t brush over the characters’ contradictions and inner struggles — spotlighting Frank, Aletheia, Barbara, and Darcus for the heroes they are without rendering them one-dimensional.  

Crichlow, for example, is trying to start fresh after previous run-ins with the police at his former establishment. He is weathered and fatigued, extremely reluctant to fill the activist role he’s pressured to adopt. His mindset contrasts with Aletheia’s, who stands firm in her efforts to protest and to not surrender to larger forces. This leads to several fascinating, suspenseful interactions as the film progresses, as Crichlow weighs the benefits of giving in against the symbolic weight of the Trial for British society at large.

When the film reaches the courtroom — represented as a foreboding, larger-than-life presence — “Mangrove” doesn’t feel as manipulative or crowd-pleasing as something like Aaron Sorkin’s “The Trial of the Chicago Seven.” There’s no White Savior here, thank god, only intelligent, brave individuals confronting the very real forces of evil seeking to silence them. 

A couple of defendants — Altheia and Darcus — actually served as their own counsel in the proceedings, subverting the system to make stark condemnations of it and refusing to let others control their fate. Darcus in particular, portrayed with fervor by Kirby, gives a nuanced, impassioned speech that speaks to humanity’s long past of prejudice and the need to overcome it today. 

By its conclusion, McQueen encourages viewers to reflect on how far we’ve come, and how much we haven’t progressed, in terms of social justice. Even though efforts might seem fruitless, “Mangrove” reasserts that the fight must continue.

“Mangrove” is part of director Steve McQueen’s television mini-series, “Small Axe,” on Amazon Prime. Alex’s Rating: A+