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Love Is All There Is (1996)
Silly, Funny, Escapist Love, Italian/American Style
Well, if you want to kill an hour or so, don't say I didn't warn you: you'll laugh. It's a silly story stemming from the Romeo & Juliet theme of two very different Italian/American families whose children fall in love.
The late Paul Sorvino is one of my favourite actors, and he doesn't disappoint in a cast with Lainie Kazan as an over-the-top Italian/American momma, Joseph Bologna as her loving. Sensible caterer husband, with William Hicks as a loveable Monseigneur of the local church & an almost unrecognizable Barbara Carrera in a blonde wig as Sorvino's snobbish impeccably dressed wife. Angelina Jolie's first role, apparently, as the Northern Italian daughter ostensibly going to study ballet in Paris (don't ask), who falls in love with a young man playing Romeo in the church play is tailor made for the part: stunningly beautiful in a young, innocent, yet arrogant way. She far outshines her swain, played by Nathaniel Marston, but we rout for his determination & passion.
Written & directed by couple Taylor & Bologna, this light bit of froth is really sweet, depending on mangled English, a real feel for suburban life and love, leavened with some truths about humanity, family, and the virtues of understanding and tolerance.
If you want intellectual stimulation, searing truth about the negative aspects of life, or spectacular special effects, this movie isn't for you, but if you want to enjoy yourself do watch it. I really had fun: Renee Taylor as the chiffon-swathed psychic who knows how to connect to the ether & deliver results, but also knows very well how to charge is perfect in the role: no matter how much you might think psychics are cons, you have to love her real efforts to help people, anywhere and any time. I'm not going to say more except that the two families are caterers, competitors, and deliver their lines effortlessly & well, unflinchingly spitting out some of the most florid, corny, lines that really tickle the funny bone, even.as you groan. It's a feel good movie, an antipasto kind of romcom. Enjoy, & buon appetito!.
Beyond the Night (2018)
Reincarnation Meets Small Town Stereotypes
I wanted to like this film. The premise of a marine with PTSD having served in Afghanistan, returning with his psychologically damaged son to the town in which he was raised seems interesting.
We learn that the Ray's wife was killed in an accident involving their son Lawrence, so coming home seems to be a logical answer: go back to one's roots & find comfort.
Lawrence is easily targeted as he has a birthmark covering most of his face, a giant strawberry mark, that one local genius tries to photograph. Protective dad Ray stops that, but it makes it seem like this is the ignorant act expected of a local yokel.
This is just the beginning of more disturbing acts. Lawrence sits remarkably still and quiet throughout an inquest but when he's in a room with the pastor's mother he blurts out the name of a cheerleader who was killed some years back, identifying the woman as "Rain's nana". Instantly the pastor's mother accuses Ray of putting Lawrence up to this as some form of "incitement" (why he would do that is utterly mystifying), storms out, and has a complete mad on. Ray asks Lawrence why he said it, where he heard the name, etc, but gets no answers.
Later, after speaking with his sheriff sister, a psychologist is suggested, and it appears that the dead girl, Rain, "lives" in Lawrence. Lawrence is allowed to run through the town & the high school Rain attended, correctly identifying various shops (the shops all have their names prominently displayed), but goes right to Rain's locker, tracing a heart that was drawn inside the locker.
The psychologist explains that a pronounced birthmark has occurred in other cases of what she suggests is reincarnation. Soon, Rain's dad learns of this and immediately tries to throw himself into hugging "Rain", asking Lawrence if Rain is "in there". Lawrence is 5: what does he expect the kid to say?
And Rain's dad is a beaut: a thug allied with other town thugs, gun-toting, shady-dealing head of this small town's mafia. Doesn't seem like the type to just leap at this far-fetched theory about Lawrence. Doesn't read right.
Ray has gone to see the local pastor, Marty, to find out if he's passed on his demons to his son. Marty doesn't give him any definitive answer, prays, then we see the same heart on one of the desks that we've seem in Rain's locker.
The over-the-top reaction of the Sheriff's boss, who wants Ray & Lawrence to get out of town, then the stirring up of a vigilante group by Rain's father is very muddled, it's sense of menace well drawn, but I don't find the characters at all believable. The denouement hackneyed, involving the Sheriff's boss locking up the pastor for "his own protection", discovery of the corpse of Rain by Lawrence, and the confession by the perp all seem very melodramatic & really disappointing.
Poirot: The Plymouth Express (1991)
Why Didn't They Stick to Christie's Story?
WARNING: SPOILERS
Usually I can bear it if Christie's absolutely logical and intriguing plots are tweaked or even twisted, to give another rendition, if the series says "based upon" a story by Agatha Christie, and if sufficient entertainment ensues.
But this? We begin with a faithful rendering of Christie's story of a rich, spoiled young woman, her estranged rotter of a husband, and domineering,
but worried father. Said worried father has purchased some fabulous rubies for said spoiled daughter, and we learn that s.d. plans to take these, along with her entire jewelry collection, on a train trip, but meanwhile we meet her bogus Count flame. The Conte de la Rochefort is a renowned scoundrel who is supposed to be irresistible to women, and whose means of supporting himself in a rather extravagant style is mysterious and questionable.
The spoiled daughter, "Flossie" Carrington, nee Halliday, is reasonably good looking, but not especially charming, witty or engaging, but the Count has less of all the above. We don't see why women succumb to this dry snobbish stick, and it's harder to understand that this rich woman, who ostensibly has her pick of suitors, would prefer him to her handsome, charming, far more sensitive, although feckless husband Rupert Carrington, played by the smooth-skinned, dark-eyed Julian Wadham.
But wait: where is Gordon Halliday's (Flossie's dad's) secretary, Knighton, who is so aptly drawn in the book? The earnest, efficient, mulitlingual, conservative & apparently shy & smitten male factotum? And where is Jane Grey, that ironic & very English lovely but no longer young servant who has inherited money and is traveling to see the world? And where, oh where, is that delightful character who is Jane's cousin, who sees a good thing coming, and who transparently sucks up to Jane, in hopes of some financial gain? And where is her foil of a plain, awkward but passionate daughter, who admires and is jealous of Jane?
We miss the appearance of the Greek jeweler who we suspect might be involved in some dubious fencing of jewels, and the daughter whom Poirot helped out of a sticky situation. This history gives Poirot a bit of a psychological edge in gaining some assistance from this pair of scallywags.
Instead, we have the abrupt introduction of a character just pulled from the files of Miss Lemon, in the form of a jeweler named Mckenzie, (no first name proferred), who is as ugly as he is heartless. No funny banter, no humour, no thing in terms of comic relief, a tiny joke or teasing of any sort lightens this blunt intrusion of a totally unredeemable person in this butchered film. Instead, we have his partner in crime Ada Mason, a low class, criminal moll who matches McKenzie in repulsiveness.
This episode is a travesty: a very good book butchered, story sacrificed to no useful end, producing a fractured, jarring tale that is stripped of any of the hallmarks of Mrs. Christie's famed appeal. It is bleak, rushed, simplistic, humourless and sad, and even the redoubtable skills of actors David Suchet, Hugh Fraser, Phillip Jackson, Pauline Moran, and in fact all the capable cast can overcome the flawed writing and ungainly ravaged plot. We are left with a passable result that could have been fabulous, if they had stuck faithfully to the original excellent material. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.
Hope Lost (2015)
Unredeemed Violent Porn
This film should be trashed, as it's trash.
On the pretext of "exposing" human sex trafficking, we are given a blow-by-blow litany of degrading images of sadism.
Michael Madsen and Mischa Barton must be either desperate, desensitized and swimming in a spiritless artistic swamp or deranged. Maybe all three.
What a terrible reflection on our society that this is portrayed as "entertainment". Shameful.