The past few months have been a crazy mix of a little bit of everything. Thank you to streaming services and the local Alamo Drafthouse for appeasing my ADHD brain.
Barry
Barry is a premise that sounds built for comedy: a hit man’s job goes awry as he stumbles into an acting class and decides he wants to be an actor. What’s completely unexpected about this show is just how deep it’s willing to go. Bill Hader delivers as a very capable hitman desperate to get out of the game. For a distraction. For anything. But what starts as a fairly innocuous acting class taught by a note-perfect Henry Winkler slowly becomes something far more gripping. Barry’s got demons to deal with on top of the mounting pressure of a deadly side gig he can’t quite seem to sweep under the rug.
Season One was designed purely to lead up to it’s most jaw-dropping, cathartic moment, where Barry finally injects some emotion into his acting just as he’s wrestling with the unexpected, heavy guilt of killing people he knows. It’s incredible acting by Bill Hader – so completely transfixing and harrowing – just as it’s incredibly acting for Barry. It only got better from there as the season ended on a gripping cliffhanger.
But Season Two? Sweet Jesus. It’s always a beautiful thing when a new show figures itself out in its first season and then comes back for a second, fully aware of its identity and ready to rock. And even though Barry felt fully-formed from the first frame of it’s maiden season, Hader, Alec Berg, and company clearly had no intentions of coasting. They just dial it up a whole ‘other notch of awesome. I still think, on a weekly basis, about the fifth episode of the season – written and directed by Hader himself – a beautifully self-contained story that somehow never interrupts the momentum of what comes before or after.
These guys have something to call their own and I cannot wait to see what they come up with next year.
Fleabag
Like Barry, Phoebe Waller Bridges’ Fleabag arrived fully-formed in its first season with a completely distinct voice. And like Barry, it just loaded up and rocked to new, freakishly confident heights in its second season. I don’t know if I found a better outlet for praise for Bridges’ work than Twitter. Twitter can be a very icky, maddening place. But it’s also a place where you can easily see the thoughts and takes of a wide variety of very smart writers, artists, and filmmakers that you greatly admire. Guess what people I followed talked about for nearly 2 weeks straight? Fleabag. The only thing they talked about more than Fleabag itself is just how insanely talented Bridges’ is her herself.
She’s so talented she’s the first woman I know of to be hired to punch up a James Bond film script purely because she’s that fucking awesome. (A ridiculous glass ceiling she should have to punch, but nonetheless a mighty fist heading towards that breakage).
Sometimes it’s really hard for writers to communicate to non-writers just how good something is. Just like it’s hard it would be for someone to explain a brilliant economic policy or piece of coding to me. But I can assure you: this is writing of the highest degree. This is someone who can find the tiniest things that make people tick and turn a simple dinner into a massive, all-out slugfest (and that’s before any actual punches are even thrown). Who can make each character feel so unique and full of depth, through dialogue and action alike?
I’m in awe of what Waller-Bridges’ pulled off this season and the way she used the Hot Priest storyline to bring out so many amazing conversations and fits of understanding and confusion. The moment where the Hot Priest finally keys in on Fleabag’s main way of communicating with her audience? Divine.
Most of the time a brilliant season of television will leave you wanting more of the same. But Waller-Bridges ends her story so beautifully and with such delightful, yet careful abandon that I almost don’t want her to come back to the same well. I want her to punch up Bond movie scripts so she can buy herself the time and opportunities to writer and pursue whatever she wants to. She’s the goods and she’ll hopefully be around for a long, long time.
Schitt’s Creek
Catherine O’Hara and Eugene Levy are national treasures (even though they’re Canadian – I’ll call them National Treasures on Loan for now). I’ll watch anything with them. And this may be one of the few times I’ve seen them upstaged.
There’s so much to love about this show, from the fact it’s created by Levy and his own son Daniel Levy to the many colorful characters played by equally colorful characters. I can confidently say I’ve never seen nor enjoyed a character as much as I have with Daniel Levy’s DANIEL. He’s the perfect fix of well-written and expertly acted, which can be said by just about every other character in this delightful small town.
Top Secret!
I heard about this film for the first time thanks to some of my favorite screenwriters joking around on Twitter, sharing their favorite GIFs from this movie. My interest went way up when I realized it was Val Kilmer’s feature film AND singing debut.
A weird fact that I find absolutely delightful: this was Peter Cushing’s final American film appearance. For those who don’t know, he played Grand Moff Tarkin in the original Star Wars movie. When Rogue One wanted to use the character for a prequel to a movie that was filmed 30 years ago and didn’t have Cushing around, they found this solution:
“In order to ensure a proper make-up appliance, Peter Cushing had a life-mask taken of his face. This mask remained in deep storage for over 30 years until it was used by visual effects artists during the making of Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) to assist them in generating a CGI motion capture duplication of Cushing’s facial features in the role of Governor Tarkin.”
I will die laughing if this is what the internet will remember about this movie in ten years. That’s quite the legacy. But I’m optimistic people will eventually come around to this deeply enjoyable batch of 80’s craziness. Much like Jim Abrahams and the Zucker Brothers’ previous runaway hit Airplane!, Top Secret! is full of highly inappropriate, poorly-aged jokes. But it’s also full of delightful puns, a Beach Boys’-ish song about skeet surfing (you gotta see it for yourself), and the best underwater fight you’ve ever seen.
Top Secret! is now streaming on Amazon Prime.
Chernobyl
My favorite thing about Chernobyl (beyond just how deeply excellent it is) is how many times I’ve seen a variation of this same sentiment: how did the writer of The Hangover II and III, Scary Movie IV, and Identity Thief make THIS? HOW???
But I kind of saw this coming. You see, Craig Mazin and John August have been hosting a delightful screenwriting podcast, Scriptnotes, for well over 7 years now. I remember when they first started out and I would spend many, many summer afternoons sweating my balls off in the Austin heat and reading their podcast transcripts, absorbing their Hollywood wisdom and keen insights. Mazin and August are two of the more successful screenwriters in the business, but they’re also two of the kindest and most generous. Their podcast and everything they provide with it is free. It’s a service and a beautiful thing.
But if you’ve listened to any of Mazin on Scriptnotes, you’ll know two things: 1) he went to Princeton, and 2) he’s really, really wicked smart.
It was always a great bit of cognitive dissonance to me for a long time: how could someone this smart and well-spoken be the writer for what I (probably quite unfairly) felt to be low-hanging comedy fruit? There had to be more to this dude.
Turns out all it took was a matter of time and opportunity. Mazin found a passion project with Chernobyl and goddamn did he shoot his shot. All 5 episodes are so well-written and constructed that I never once let the show do anything other than wash over me. Every piece fits together so beautifully. Johan Renck’s direction only further augments and extends Mazin’s craft.
I’m so glad for the existence of such a well-told story about an event many of us knew very, very little about. And the way Mazin makes it relevant to our times today is a thing of stark, unavoidable beauty.
But what I may love more than all of this is that it’s allowed Mazin to finally get a well-deserved moment in the sun and a chance to begin a new chapter in his writing career.
Always Be My Maybe
It’s easy to forget how out-of-nowhere Ali Wong’s Baby Cobra standup special was when it arrived on Netflix three years ago. Initially, the attention came with the fact she did her entire set very, very pregnant. Shortly after, the attention became what a unique, hilarious comic voice she is. Her background as a comedy writer became clear just as she unleashed her growing star potential. Between two comedy specials and now Always Be My Maybe, she is, as much as anyone can claim to be, a star Netflix nearly grew on their own.
This is a movie literally born from a random pitch on Twitter. It speaks to Netflix’s willingness to front money in a hurry that they were able to get a project like this made so quickly. Just like the previous Netflix romantic comedy hit, Set It Up, this takes a rather simple rom-com setup and skates upon the powerhouse charm and Randall Park and Ali Wong. You believe their friendship, and I’m especially impressed with how much depth they gave Wong’s character, even as the romantic comedy structure tried its damnedest to swing her into wackier territory.
Even better is the specificity the movie clearly dedicates to its Oakland setting. A great number of writers I follow on Twitter found themselves completely floored with how much this movie nailed the specificity of the Oakland they knew and loved, especially with the music. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned with Netflix and its giant pool of money, it’s their willingness to spend a LOT of money on getting whatever song clearances the movie (or show) wants. Even if you don’t know Oakland that well, you can tell there’s an extra layer of care and dedication imbued in the story. It’s that extra kick of special sauce.
And speaking of special sauce, I haven’t even mentioned Keanu Reeves yet! There may be no movie trope I enjoy more than when big, famous actors willingly play with their image onscreen. We’ve all heard the many heartwarming stories about Keanu. He’s clearly a good, good dude. And yet, the dedication he puts into playing a version of himself that grows from godlike to more and more assholish is purely a character arc soaked with delight.
If you’re one of those people who swears the romantic comedy genre is dead, then do yourself a favor and watch a doubleheader of Netflix’s Set It Up and Always Be My Maybe.
Tag
When my fiance and I arrived for our first night in Melbourne, we decided to seek out a movie to complement our takeout fish and chips dinner. Problem was: the place we were staying only had a box of HD-DVD movies, which is not exactly a format we Americans really see much of anymore. Needless to say, our options were very limited. Tag looked like the best bet. A couple of hours later, we sat in our chairs, completely stunned. It wasn’t the food coma. It was the complete inability to find any words to describe what we watched. So I let it sit. A couple of hours later, I could only think of one thing and one thing only: thumb drives.
You remember when thumb drives were made and we were promised that we could not only hold a bunch of data on them but that we could easily slot them into any USB port and access this stuff anytime? And how it would be so convenient? And just plain awesome? But then a weird thing would happen: the files would get corrupted. If you managed to open them up, they’d come up all weird and nearly impenetrable.
This is how I felt about Tag. The premise – a based-on-true-story tale of grown-ass men who’ve kept their friendship alive through the world’s longest-running game of Tag – is the USB thumb drive. It’s all there. It should be light and easily accessible. It shouldn’t be expected to change the world, but it should at least create an entertaining couple of hours.
Well.
I don’t know what happened, but that USB drive got corrupted somehow. Everything feels a little bit off. The lines that should be funny are rushed through. The lines that aren’t funny are given a lot of focus. The camera might be moving more than the actors themselves and they’re basically playing ONE LONG GAME OF TAG.
I’m just baffled at how they could get so many brilliant, hilarious people in one movie and only yield a couple of good laughs. In fact, the funniest part of the movie comes during the credits, when they show footage of the actual Tag friends (from Spokane, WA – shoutout to the hometown they clearly did not film in!) performing some of their stunts and it is legitimately heartwarming and hilarious – two qualities I’m sure the movie was shooting for but ultimately failed to achieve.
Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure
With so many sequels and reboots in theaters, it’s been a bit harder to get motivated to go to the movies. Especially with so many streaming options at our fingertips. So an unexpectedly fun way to approach all of this has been to ditch the 2019 movie rabbit race and check out films I’ve never seen before (true story: there’s a LOT of them).
How I’ve lived 32 years on this pale blue dot and never seen Bill & Ted is beyond me. But I am so, so glad I finally got around to it. What a delightful bunch of actors to spend time with. And you could do a lot worse than coming away from a movie with a catchphrase like “Be Excellent To Others”.
Even better, original writer Ed Solomon is making a third outing, Bill and Ted Face the Music, with the breakout actor from Barry, Anthony Carrigan. Another great group of people working together with a reportedly great script. Can’t wait!
Hunt for the Wilderpeople (rewatch)
Whenever I thought about this movie, which I had seen over 2 years ago, I imagined a key character’s death to come almost immediately in the movie. In fact, I remember remarking her death happened about Minute 20, which fell in line with so many formulaic screenwriting books I had read up to that point. What struck me this time out is how much time Taika gives to the relationship with the foster mother before her shocking death. He truly lets it marinate, giving Ricky time with her that’s a mix of meaningful and listless – just like real-life interactions tend to be. We see her struggle to get through to Ricky. We see her try a different tact in talking around Ricky and seeing if he’ll develop an interest. We see Ricky run away from home and fail miserably. Waititi quite economically packs a lot of story into those first 20 minutes so that we know 3 key things: 1) Ricky’s stakes (he’s going to juvie once the foster care people seize him again), 2) Hec (Sam Neill) can’t go back to jail with his criminal record, and 3) Hec and Ricky really, really do not like each other.
By the time Ricky visits his old pal at the end and Hec unspools his own, imperfectly perfect haiku, you’ll realize just how far these characters have come and just how much you’ve grown to love them.
Bad Times at the El Royale
Drew Goddard is such a brilliant, smart writer that sometimes he trips himself up. The premise of Bad Times is excellent. Strangers stumble into this retro, immaculately-designed motel that sits on the border of California and Nevada. Much like Cabin in the Woods, Goddard slowly peels back the layers until you’re left with a largely unpredictable story.
The elliptical way the story is told, cycling back through time before running again through the present, makes for a captivating watch. The pieces are slowly put into place before they’re laid out and blown to pieces in the final act. Every actor brings their A-game, tearing into the material.
But here, it feels like Goddard may have devised a story that’s a bit too clever for its own good. When you’re trying to create complex characters in the middle of a complicated plot, your brain can be burning so many calories taking it all in that there’s little energy left for feeling emotional heft. I was certainly entertained, but it didn’t quite stick.
The Dead Don’t Die
You may have heard of such physical laws as E=MC2 and Newton’s Law of Gravity, but I’m pretty sure there is another one people tend to overlook:
Deadpan Bill Murray + Deadpan Adam Driver = Instant Comedy Gold
We all know Bill Murray. And whenever Driver hasn’t been sparking new fan theories with his Star Wars roles, he’s been doing great work in delightful indies such as Patterson and last year’s highly underrated Logan Lucky. The trailer for The Dead Don’t Die seemed to suggest quite the confirmation of this new physical law. These two would be delivering dry one-liner after one-liner, eliciting gut busters throughout the entire runtime.
But I also wondered why such a deeply soulful filmmaker like Jim Jarmusch would be making such a wacky comedy. All I can say is: when you see it, it will make total sense. The trailer definitely sets up a different kind of comedy than the one you get.
We’ve heard tragedy + time = comedy. Jarmusch seems to want to try a new law, one that says comedy + time = tragedy. Or rather, comedy + indifference = tragedy.
There’s a lot to laugh at in this movie. Random celebrities such as Iggy Pop in full zombie regalia. A racist, MAGA-infused Steve Buscemi. A whispery, delightfully nerdy Caleb Landry Drones. Tilda Swinton being revealed to actually be the alien we all assumed she is. Adam Driver rolling into the scene in a Smart Two car that barely fits his massive, gangly frame.
But there’s a slow sense of dread that creeps over you, both for the characters and as an audience member. For one, the movie has all the makings of a comedy, but the levity is blunted by something far less funny: indifference. You see, these zombies are lumbering around and biting into people in new and gruesome ways. The cops are always called, but they’re frequently at a loss of what to do. It’s a small town. The world’s going to hell. And no one seems to care.
You can read Jamursch’s intent as a lot of things. The frequent mention of polar fracking makes it easy to read it as our lack of response to climate change. But like Craig Mazin’s stellar HBO show Chernobyl, it brings up a theme that can be applied to so much. Chernobyl made us wonder what the cost of our lies are; who is really paying the price when people refuse to tell the truth? Jarmusch’s The Dead Don’t Die holds up a mirror that asks us all just what the hell is up with this indifference? Why are we allowing our town to be attacked by zombies and carrying about like everything’s business as usual?
The answer comes in taking a look at the news. The day after I saw the movie, there was news of a horrifying shooting at a California music festival. Which followed a week in which our President unapologetically made a number of terribly racist comments. Which followed a Congressional hearing where it was confirmed another country totally meddled in our most recent presidential election, which was followed by a congressman blocking a bill that would have allowed for more voter security to help ensure meddling doesn’t happen again. None of this is normal. And yet. The lack of action from the powers above us has probably conditioned those below us to a level of inaction, or at the very least, a feeling of pointlessness. Many people love to point out that our focus on relatively trivial pop cultural moments, such as NBA free agency or Tarantino’s newest film, is the reason the world is not changing. But I would argue the other way around is just as responsible; that feeling like anything we do won’t make a difference has led us all to focus on the trivial. As escape. As a chance to get so passionately upset about something completely random so we just might remember what it feels like to feel a little in control.
The Dead Don’t Die gains its power long after you’ve seen it. I watched nearly the entirety of this movie waiting for something to kick in. Something to happen. The many weeks since has taught me that’s what Jamursch wanted us to wonder all along.
