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< Back Beau is Afraid stays surreal from beginning to end A24, 2023 179 minutes Director/Writer: Ari Aster Reading Time: 5 minutes Beau is Afraid Feast (JUPMOPH6SNVDEVIS) 00:00 / 04:51 📷 : Used with Permission, Agustin R. Michel https://www.instagram.com/agustinrmichel https://twitter.com/AgustinrMichel https://www.behance.net/agustin_rmichel Yarrow: Movies and TV shows about illness or set in hospitals or similar medical institutions Chamomile: Family dramas Chris Chaisson 2023-05-17 Creating a fantasy-based universe in a script can give writer/directors a lot of leeway. Often, they spend the first 15 or 20 minutes providing a boring, grounded reality familiar to the audience as a basis for comparison. Think of Jumanji , which both begins and ends with our basic modern-day existence. In the middle portion of the movie, we see lions, stampedes, and David Alan Grier in a cop uniform. However, some filmmakers go wire to wire with the fantasy, never letting the audience catch their breath. Ari Aster chooses this path in his newest psychological horror-drama Beau is Afraid . Joaquin Phoenix ( Joker ) plays the title character, a middle-aged therapy patient suffering from anxiety who tries to make it home to visit his mother, Mona (Patti LuPone, Summer of Sam ). In a true case of Murphy’s Law, several unforeseen circumstances prevent Beau from catching his flight home, some of which are quite surreal. For instance, as Beau tries to drift off to sleep the night before, a neighbor slides notes under his door asking him to stop playing his music so loud. This confuses Beau, as he is not playing any music at all. After a few notes and some banging on the door, the neighbor proceeds to blast his own stereo as payback, taking Beau off of his sleep schedule. Upon the realization that he will miss his flight, he calls to inform his disappointed mother of the situation. He later calls her back and a delivery man picks up, telling Beau that he has discovered Mona’s lifeless, mutilated body while making his delivery. Beau determines that he must find a way home immediately to either find his mother or mourn her passing, leading him through several perilous situations. Ari Aster’s three-hour odyssey feels like an extended fever dream at times, as it occurs from the hallucinatory perspective of Beau. As with other psychological horror films (for instance, Aster’s very own Midsommar ), the audience does not know what is happening in the “real world” and what is in Beau’s head. Aster plants several seeds from scene to scene that create a sense of dread in the audience. For instance, Beau’s crime-ridden neighborhood consists of violent vagrants that he could run into at any point in time. His own apartment has a large spider loose somewhere, shown to the audience when Beau first arrives at his unit. Ultimately, what’s real to him is real to us, and the ominous surroundings and situations make the audience relate to Beau’s unease. Loneliness heavily contributes to Beau’s anxiety, as he has no trusted friends to guide him back home. In many odysseys, the central character has a confidant or protector, such as Samwise Gamgee in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Beau has no such support system. Everyone he comes into contact with is either hostile towards him or just untrustworthy. This even includes Roger (Nathan Lane, The Birdcage ) and Grace (Amy Ryan, Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance) ), the couple that nurses him back to health after he gets stabbed and hit by a car. Beau not only lacks a friend but also a romantic partner, as he still yearns for his first love from childhood Elaine (Parker Posey, Dazed and Confused ). The befuddling surroundings he finds himself in (the forest, a stranger’s home, an unsafe neighborhood) could only be made more comforting with a friendly, trustworthy face, which he does not come across until the final act of the movie. As several perverted, scary and violent moments occur throughout Beau is Afraid ’s 179-minute runtime, the audience is not grounded in any type of reality. Thus, Aster’s fantasy-riddled style emulates that of contemporaries like Darren Aronofsky ( Black Swan ) and Charlie Kaufman ( Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind ), who often hold the audience’s head under water from beginning to end and never let them up for air. For some, this style creates a much more enthralling film with no limitations on what the audience will see. Others may view it as a cop-out, allowing the director to depict the most absurd and vulgar goings-on with no consequences, defying any sort of cause-and-effect chain. The side of the fence you fall on will determine how you feel when the end credits roll. In spite of the aforementioned Aronofsky and Kaufman comparisons, the film Beau is Afraid reminded me of the most was an early 2000s film directed by Stephen Spielberg: A.I. Artificial Intelligence . Though the main character was a robot as opposed to an anxiety-ridden 40-something, both characters embark on dangerous quests to gain the adulation of their mothers, with menacing antagonists standing in their way. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back The Old Oak suggests another path towards harmony StudioCanal, 2023 113 minutes Director/Writer: Ken Loach / Paul Laverty Reading Time: 6 minutes The Old Oak Spring Unfolds (G7NYPT90IMRWOG46) 00:00 / 07:48 📷 : Licensed from Shutterstock Chamomile: Family dramas Jasmine: Movies and TV shows with heart, positive vibes, and warm messages Reba Chaisson 2024-06-29 There’s nothing like underestimating people because they hail from a culture different than our own. Indeed, it reminds me of the identities imposed on Indigenous Peoples by the newcomers in the 17th century. Because of differences in appearance and the practicing of certain customs, Pilgrims viewed Native Americans as “savages” who needed taming, and that those who resisted needed eliminating. More than four centuries later, the tendency to view unfamiliar people as something other than human lingers. Ken Loach’s film, The Old Oak , helps us see that there is another way. Set in Northern England, The Old Oak centers on a present-day working class Irish enclave, where childhood friends grew to become adult neighbors. TJ Ballentyne (Dave Turner) is the 50-something year-old proprietor of the struggling Old Oak tavern, fraught with problems like a broken sign, unreliable plumbing, and an unused reception room filled with memorabilia that makes the space resemble a forgotten attic. All is good until what many in the community view as “trouble” comes to town in the form of immigrants pushed out of war-torn Syria, needing a new place to call home. The unwelcoming committee consists of a patron of The Old Oak who comes out to gawk at the newcomers as they exit their bus. In addition to the usual racist jibes, the grown man snatches a child’s Nikon-era camera and purposefully drops it on the ground, destroying both the camera and its contents. In terms of demographics, the neighborhood around The Old Oak reminds me of that in the HBO series, Mare of Easttown . It is predominantly White with an appearance here and there of persons of color. Also, like Mare of Easttown , The Old Oak consists largely of overcast skies with a hint of early fall weather. Here though, the weather seems to suggest pervasive hardship in the community. The poor condition of TJ’s tavern and patrons’ frequent complaints about mine closures and barely getting by indicate that the town has fallen on hard times. Thus, the weather plays a role in the film, serving as an intervening variable to help explain the resistance of some residents to their new neighbors. While this can be viewed as an excuse for the behavior of some, the community members make familiar points about immigrants not being taken to more affluent areas to live, where the utility infrastructure, schools, and housing resources are relatively plentiful. Finally, unlike Mare of Easttown , the characters in The Old Oak lack energy. Even those who are vindictive have sedate personalities despite their sharp tongues. What adds a bit of energy to the movie is 20-something-year-old Yara (Ebla Mari), who demonstrates tenacity and spunk when she enters the tavern looking for the bully who broke her camera. Covering for his patron, TJ offers to purchase a new camera, but Yara insists (paraphrasing) “I don’t want a new one, I want this one.” Yara’s assertiveness is contrary to the quiet and docile demeanor we have come to expect of newly arriving residents. Here, her action constitutes a subtle but likely empowering moment for people pushed out of their homelands into a new country that is hostile towards them. She, in effect, symbolizes the importance of immigrants’ getting past the fear of the new, so that townspeople are forced to see them as human too. Sometimes, what is construed as racist is really a reflection of cultural dissonance. For instance, when Yara helps a sick girl home, the mother arrives and angrily kicks Yara out. Some might view the mother’s behavior as racist, but it is also a normal response from a parent who finds an unfamiliar adult in her home with her kids. Culturally, Yara likely did not view entering the home as a problem; after all, she was just helping the young girl. But out of deference to the culture she has entered into, she needs, in essence, to learn to respect the space and privacy of the residents. Thank goodness for the gun restrictions in Britain, or this situation could have ended very badly. What The Old Oak conveys is the significance that food and sharing a table with others can have in making connections. This is exemplified in a scene where Yara and her mother, Fatima (Amna Al Ali) bring food to TJ at his home after learning about a loss he experiences. TJ heads to the cabinet to retrieve three plates, when Fatima insists that he bring only one for himself. Perplexed, he does as he is told. After dishing the food onto his plate, Fatima tells him (paraphrasing) “Eat, don’t talk.” Confused, he complies. The director sits in this tender, generous moment as if to convey to us the power of silence at a shared table in achieving mutual understanding and grace. Indeed, the scene reminds me of the movie, Soul Food , where an African American family comes together every Sunday to share a meal of traditional soul food. This regular sharing of a meal strengthens their bond, even through tough times. As in Soul Food , the food and sharing of space in The Old Oak facilitates relationships and a deepening sense of appreciation for one another. To improve relations in the community, Yara suggests to TJ that they clean up the bar’s backroom and use it to cook and serve meals to anyone in the neighborhood who wishes to come by. Over time, we see people from across the community talking, sharing stories, and laughing while enjoying a meal. We feel tensions loosen between long-time residents and immigrants across age groups. Some people might describe The Old Oak as an idealistic story, but it is important to consider its context. The UK, for example, does not have the level of violence that we do here in the U.S. Ownership of weapons in the UK is severely restricted, and even Bobbies (British police officers) carry batons instead of guns. This leaves British residents to make use of their fists, knives, and verbal skills to deal with frustrations and conflicts. Because the likelihood of people surviving these forms of aggression is high relative to attacks with firearms, people can be less afraid to take risks. Also regarding context, the town in The Old Oak is a small one, which suggests that communication can occur by word of mouth or via local establishments where residents tend to gather. Announcements of regular get-togethers at a popular local establishment are productive in garnering decent crowds, which can grow over time and vary in attendees much like block parties, local festivals, kids’ activities, and gatherings at houses of worship in the neighborhoods of big cities. The familiarity gained by being in one another’s company while enjoying an activity loved by many (eating) is more likely to breed understanding and even affection, than alienation and contempt. While The Old Oak could benefit from more cultural diversity in the film, it successfully conveys another way of achieving harmony among neighbors. Like a dessert menu, it deserves consideration. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

Your Friends & Neighbors gives a birds-eye view into a type of social mobility < Back Your Friends & Neighbors gives a birds-eye view into a type of social mobility Apple Studios, 2025 50 minutes Creator: Jonathan Trooper Reading Time: 6 minutes 📷 : Apple Studios Your Friends & Neighbors Match Point (7BFGRIMDEVIEX77A) 00:00 / 07:58 Ginger Thought-provoking movies and TV shows Honeybush Nonfamily dramas with strong adult and/or socioeconomic themes Reba Chaisson 2025-06-17 You may be familiar with the term “downward social mobility.” It refers to the loss of income and/or wealth that can lead to a dramatic drop in a person or family’s social position, lifestyle, and most immediately, living situation. According to psychologists , it is not unusual for such an occurrence to induce physical, mental, and emotional imbalance in the person or family that experiences it. Your Friends & Neighbors is an Apple TV+ series about a man who is blindsided by the sudden loss of his job. Divorcé Andrew “Coop” Cooper ( Jon Hamm) has all the trappings of wealth: mansions, swimming pools, high-end cars, and upscale parties. In Coop’s case, all of this comes with the bonus of paying alimony, private school tuition for his two teens, and a mortgage on the mansion now occupied by his ex-wife Mel (Amanda Peete) and her live-in boyfriend Nick (Mark Tallman) — you know, the one Coop caught in bed with his then-wife. Coop is well-liked by his friends and neighbors, and he is particularly close to his business manager Barney Choi (Hoon Lee), who never hesitates to speak truth to his client and close friend. Exemplary of their relationship is a scene where the two meet for lunch (at an upscale bar of course), and Coop tells Barney he was just fired. Barney’s expression quickly changes from joy to serious as he sternly asks Coop, “Who did you f***?” You might remember Hoon Lee as Jobe from the long-running Banshee series on Cinemax. His character in Your Friends & Neighbors is equally steadfast and entertaining. While Coop earned millions as a hedge fund manager, he is mildly concerned about how long he can sustain himself without income, though fairly confident that he has plenty in cash and investments. When Barney tells him that he will run out of money in six months, Coop is shocked. As with those who make substantially less than Coop, the prospect of downward social mobility is frightening, especially when family not only depends on the support but expects that the money and other resources will always be there. We see this expectation play out when Mel casually tells Coop that she has hired a private tennis coach for their daughter. When he bristles at it, she asks in frustration, “What’s the problem? It’s just ten thousand dollars a month!” Other effects of job loss are loneliness and shame, and this is particularly the case for men. Psychologists note that when men subscribe to the notion of being the family’s breadwinner, their identity is strongly tied to work, hence the shame in losing their jobs. Loneliness seeps in when they don’t share their job loss with close friends and those who rely on them. To Coop’s credit, he shared this with Barney. But family and other friends were left to wonder about his sudden aloofness, complaints about money, and altercations with long-time pals. During one of many pool parties at a neighbor’s mansion, Coop excuses himself to use the restroom and begins casually wandering throughout the house. Admiring trinkets, lifting his eyebrows at furniture, and pulling open the drawers of nightstands and chests, he nonchalantly takes an expensive watch and puts it in his pocket. Wait, what? Yes, that’s what I said. Indeed, this is so easy for Coop that he later absconds with another valuable item from a different neighbor’s house. And he does it again and again. It has been said that once someone crosses the line into deviant behavior without getting caught, the act becomes easier and easier for them to continue doing it. Coop’s stealing is an example of this. I like this series not because it centers on a man once grounded and secure and now seemingly lost, but because it depicts the process of that destabilization. While we frequently throw around labels like “criminal” and “thief,” we rarely consider the individual’s circumstance nor psychological state that led to the behavior. Understanding these aspects of the person’s life experiences can potentially engender empathy for them rather than judgment and condemnation. This is not to confuse understanding with holding the person accountable for the actions. It is to suggest that forever relegating them to purgatory for uncharacteristic behavior is problematic. What is being depicted in this series is the direct link between the triggering event (job loss), the scary prospects of downward social mobility (along with its psychological effects), and their sometimes deviant manifestations. Interestingly, for people of lower socioeconomic status (SES) than Coop, the labels “criminal” and “thief” stick, and the individuals are then forever viewed with suspicion. This is the case even if the event occurred only once. It makes you wonder if (or when) Coop’s thievery is uncovered, will he be labeled in the same way and will these labels stick. We get a sense of the likelihood of this in the series when Coop is accused of a serious crime that is unrelated to his new extracurricular activity. How he recovers from this tells us a lot about differences in the perceptions of wealthy people versus those who are not. In any event, the truth is, we all lose our footing at times, and rarely does the decline from there happen overnight. In Coop’s case, he gradually becomes emboldened and moves on to brazen and arrogant. In addition to depicting the process of downward social mobility and the wrong paths some take at the prospects of it, Your Friends & Neighbors confronts us with biases we might have about wealthy people, mainly that they are trouble-free and filled with choices. The characters in this series, though, are all carrying some kind of weight. Despite Coop’s fairly good relationship with his ex-wife Mel, he has yet to put to rest the matter of her cheating on him. Barney, who is quite wealthy as well, worries about keeping money. He struggles to talk to his wife about her excessive spending on property enhancements that cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. Samantha Levitt (Olivia Munn) says she is happy to be divorced from her ex-husband but repeatedly gossips with her friends around the pool about his new, young girlfriend. And then there’s Nick, the retired NBA player who enjoys spending time with his friends and neighbors but behaves as if oblivious to the fact that he and Coop’s ex are a pair. So, while some wealthy people really do have a lot of money, others not so much. Many in the latter group maintain a façade to keep up with the Joneses. And while most in the zip code are quirky and at times entitled and clueless, they carry a lot of baggage — kind of like the rest of us up and down the social hierarchy. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back Rebel Ridge highlights a little-known legal snag Bonneville Pictures, 2024 131 minutes Director/Writer: Jeremy Saulnier Reading Time: 5 minutes Rebel Ridge With You Always (AKYRKGOZU0MVD3VI) 00:00 / 06:21 📷 : Used with permission, Netflix Rosemary: Movies and TV shows with intense action Ginseng: Suspenseful and intense thrillers Chris Chaisson 2024-09-17 We see the reliable story trope time and again: the fish out of water. A tourist or someone “just passing through” who ends up on the radar of the local powers that be, and chaos ensues. It frequently becomes the “one-man army” story, such as Sylvester Stallone’s character in the Rambo trilogy, where the authority figures pick the wrong person to mess with. Sometimes, the fish out of water finds help from unexpected sources, like Axel Foley in Beverly Hills Cop . Regardless, we typically see our aforementioned trope framed and detained for familiar, even if completely bogus, charges (“Disturbing the peace? I got thrown out of a window!” ). Occasionally we get a story that enlightens us to all of the trappings that lie within the justice system. Enter Jeremy Saulnier’s Netflix hit, Rebel Ridge , about just such a legal loophole. Ex-Marine Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre, Old ) bikes his way through a small southern town en route to bail his cousin out of jail with a large sum of cash. When a patrol car coasts up behind him and causes an accident, the officers cuff Terry and search his belongings. Despite Terry showing deference, the officers suspect the money as being ill-gotten and seize the cash, forcing Terry to jump through several time-consuming hoops to get it back. This troublesome wormhole coincides with Terry’s cousin being shipped to a penitentiary elsewhere, as the town can no longer hold its inmates. As Terry heads to the police station to repossess his money, he clashes with the local police chief (Don Johnson) who refuses to cooperate. Terry finds himself in the crosshairs of the police when he pushes back on their corrupt ways, only getting counsel from a paralegal who knows of the local law enforcement’s malfeasance and how to fight it. Rebel Ridge highlights a little-known but common practice in law enforcement called civil asset forfeiture . When police detain a citizen, they can claim suspicion as cause to seize their belongings, such as money, and use them to fund the department. Retrieving the money can take months, if not years, and may result in spending more than what was originally taken. While government officials call it a way to cut off criminals’ resources, specifically in the drug trade, critics have deemed it legalized theft. In the midst of getting tangled up in the department’s scheme, Terry finds that this practice is a go-to strategy for the local police. Once they go the route of physical intimidation, Terry’s military training kicks in, and the conflict between himself and the corrupt officers escalates. Rebel Ridge does a good job of raising the stakes for its main characters. While Terry appears to be a loner and nomad who can survive off of very little, he has little to no time to hash out his conflict given his cousin’s incarceration. Just the same, his legal counsel, Summer (AnnaSophia Robb, Bridge to Terabithia ), is trying to regain custody of her daughter, forcing her to help Terry from the shadows lest her own family’s safety be threatened. Once Terry winds up in a violent showdown with the police, the stakes reach full-blown life and death status. The Netflix original consists of several strong performances, particularly from Aaron Pierre and Don Johnson. Though Johnson has played many villains in his acting career, his role in Rebel Ridge may remind you of his long-running TV character Nash Bridges, a San Francisco cop who didn’t always go by the book. Pierre’s brooding, stoic nature highlights how the department is singling him out. He is simply passing through the town with the goal of helping out a family member, and he is willing to comply until he is stiff-armed at every turn. We see his veneer slowly shift from patient and calculated to angry and defiant. Such can be any person or an entire community’s experience with authority figures who go out of their way to make trouble for those trying to cooperate or come up with ideas to make things work for everyone. As with many fish-out-of-water characters, Terry has elite combat skills that he is resisting the urge to deploy. Often, characters who have seen and maybe even committed the most extreme acts of violence vow to never return to that lifestyle. Think of Viggo Mortensen’s character in A History of Violence or the aforementioned John Rambo from First Blood , characters who desperately wanted to maintain an anonymous, peaceful existence until it was no longer an option. These types of characters are often physically imposing in a way that tips the audience off to their capabilities, and we anticipate the inevitable breaking of the dam because their antagonists seem determined to push them too far. Due to its small-town setting and the protagonist’s Incredible Hulk-like appearance, the best comp for Rebel Ridge is the recent television series Reacher , starring Alan Ritchson. Both consist of fish-out-of-water tropes where the nomadic main character gets pushed to the edge by local authorities and forced to engage in the combat that they thought they had left behind. They each show how crooked politicians or law enforcement can bend rules and use either relationships or blackmail to get what they want. While the protagonists’ fighting expertise don’t exactly make them the biggest underdogs, the sense that they are fighting against a system that is unjust means they will forever be in an uphill battle to achieve that justice. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back Jules simplifies the alien invasion plot into a story about the foils of aging Bleecker Street, 2023 87 minutes Director/Writer: Gavin Steckler / Marc Turtletaub Reading Time: 5 minutes Jules Home Inside (5NUNQ46B64LFIRRJ) 00:00 / 05:08 📷 : Licensed from Shutterstock Chamomile: Family dramas Jasmine: Movies and TV shows with heart, positive vibes, and warm messages Chris Chaisson 2023-09-23 Jules follows the unlikely friendship between its title character and Milton (Ben Kingsley, Schindler's List ), a widow in his late seventies. Normally, the phrase “unlikely friendship” refers to two characters with differing personalities. I say “unlikely” because Jules is an alien whose spaceship crash landed in Milton’s backyard in Boonton, a suburb in western Pennsylvania. Though initially startled by his presence, Milton eventually invites Jules in, cares for him and assists him in repairing his ship. After initially sharing the news and being met with skepticism, Milton decides to keep it a secret once he develops a friendship with Jules. As Jules gets close to finishing his repairs, Milton must face the possibility that he will either lose a friend or leave his old life behind. Director Marc Turtletaub’s slice-of-life/sci-fi indie maintains a pretty clear subject matter: the unfortunate ageism that senior citizens consistently face. Often, older adults experience the irritability and impatience of their caretakers. Their opinions and concerns go either unheard or disregarded on a regular basis. Jules illustrates this from the jump, as Milton attends town hall meetings and repeats his same grievance, which the board ignores day after day along with the concerns expressed by other senior citizens. The film illustrates this in a humorous, Groundhog Day style, but the underlying message is still sobering. For Milton, compounding the frustration from the meetings is his daughter Denise’s (Zoe Winters, Succession ) belief that he is showing mild symptoms of dementia. His forgetfulness and misplacing of items in his house worries her, though he insists that it is simply human nature to have such moments. While Denise is compassionate, she also does not take Milton’s perspective seriously, which is exacerbated by her own busy schedule and the fact that no one else can assist her in caring for him. Another clever detail of the movie is Milton’s fractured relationship with his son, who has moved away, started his own family and cut Milton off completely. Milton admits to Jules that he was not always the best father, and considering his son’s young adult status, he just does not have time to connect. Milton utters to Jules, “He’s busy, and that’s fine; I was busy at his age too.” His comment and the sadness in his voice points out a bleak reality, which is that sometimes senior citizens feel the pain of mistakes that they made in their relationships from many years ago. As their social circles dwindle, they not only become lonelier but never get the chance to repair such relationships. Additionally, they find themselves reconciling the inattentiveness of their loved ones, no matter how hurtful they find it. Jules serves as a perfect friend to Milton. He does not speak back, cast doubt or attempt to diagnose Milton. Rather, Jules simply keeps him company, sitting on the couch and watching television. Being from another world, he does not have any preconceptions about Milton because of his age, making him the ideal caretaker. While he is the protagonist, Milton is not the lone example of an older adult in the film. Sandy (Harriet Sampson Harris, Frasier ) and Joyce (Jane Curtin, Third Rock from the Sun ), two of Milton’s neighbors, endure the same dismissiveness at the town hall meetings. Sandy tries to organize get-togethers, highlighting another unfortunate reality for older adults when a person responding to her flyer has malicious intentions. Often, senior citizens serve as easy targets for thieves, practical jokers and even people capable of violence. Joyce appears focused on the perception of not only herself but the other older members of the community. While she believes that Milton is harboring an alien, she does not want him to make mention of it, as it gives fodder to those who already want to ignore the voices of senior citizens and dismiss them as feeble. Sci-fi films about alien invasions typically are paired with the action and suspense genres, displaying war imagery and good versus evil archetypes. Jules instead tells an individual story about how a well-meaning lifeform from another planet, through sheer naiveté, offers the compassion and company that many younger adults do not exhibit for the generations that preceded them. While the movie is about aging, Jules at times felt reminiscent of the late 1980s drama Rain Man . Tom Cruise plays a self-centered bachelor connecting with his autistic-savant brother, whom he just learned existed, in order to gain a larger share of their inheritance. After he is initially irritated with his brother, he learns how to foster a relationship with him through patience, generosity and respect. The bond Milton and Jules forge does not explicitly teach younger adults how to be better providers, but their friendship conveys how deference and compassion can be the most important elements of caretaking. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

Dope Thief shares important lessons about family < Back Dope Thief shares important lessons about family Apple Studios, 2025 50 minutes Creator: Peter Craig Reading Time: 6 minutes 📷 : Apple Studios Dope Thief Survive (PNTD034EZSCMMHXD) 00:00 / 08:12 Coca Movies and TV shows about drugs or with disorienting presentations Rosemary Movies and TV shows with intense action Reba Chaisson 2025-09-04 Many years ago, I read a book called All Our Kin , penned by Carol Stack and based on her research in The Flats, a working-class neighborhood in a major city in the Midwest. In the book, she reveals how she used participant observation to gain entrée into the community and get to know her new neighbors. Barbara Ehrenreich’s Nickel and Dimed is similar, as it is based on her time living in several poor communities and working in nearby diners and hotels, so she could experience life and living as her neighbors did. Participant observation allows for researchers to gain a deep appreciation for residents’ hardships, triumphs, and everyday survival strategies. One of the big takeaways from both studies is how people in the communities rely on kinship networks, that is, support from people who are not related by blood but are considered family nonetheless. I mention all of this because the limited series, Dope Thief , stirred these themes in my head once again. Apple TV+’s limited series is about two best friends who front as federal agents to steal money and drugs from dope dealers in Philadelphia. Donning shell jackets with bright yellow DEA lettering and phony badges around their necks, the duo look legitimate as they invade dealers’ homes, intimidate the occupants, and help themselves to money and drugs. The scenario is reminiscent of the character Omar in the HBO series, The Wire . Omar (Michael Kenneth Williams), with the help of a shotgun hanging from his shoulder and tucked under his long coat, made his living robbing dope dealers—without the use of a DEA jacket! In one episode, Omar simply stood under the window of an apartment and the dealer just dropped the drugs down to him. Brian Tyree Henry ( Class of ’09 , Atlanta ) leads the cast of Dope Thief as Raymond Driscoll, an early 30-something who has never left home but tells his mother, Theresa Bowers (Kate Mulgrew), that he works all day as a painter. Theresa, who is not Ray’s biological mother, is not as gullible as Ray seems to believe, as she casually queries him about such things as his odd hours and how he is able to paint houses in the cold weather. Still, she surprises him with a birthday treat with a candle on top. “You thought I forgot. Happy Birthday you piece of sh**,” she says with a smile. He looks at her with much appreciation. Wagner Moura ( Civil War , Shining Girl ) is Ray’s best friend, Manny Carvalho, and the two are quite literally thick as thieves. Ray’s and Manny’s business continues as usual until they learn that they can get a big haul in a rural area on the outskirts of Philly. On a rundown piece of property, according to their source, the owners manufacture and sell large quantities of dope. Excited about their potential take, the two rush their usual surveillance and planning. The heist goes awry, and the cartel-linked, biker-gang-affiliated property owners inform them through an anonymous, raspy voice on a walkie talkie that they know they are the perpetrators, adding “You think you’ll be tough to find in your Scooby Doo van?” The call puts Ray and Manny in fear for their own and their loved ones’ lives, forcing them to leave their homes to evade the cartel, the biker gang, and the real DEA that is now investigating the crime. Ray has quite a contentious relationship with his dad Bart, played by Ving Rhames. We realize this when he confronts his dad for convincing Theresa to fund his release from prison on a medical discharge. “Ain’t one part of my life that you didn’t [mess] up,” says Ray. This is a chilling exchange. That Ray’s words spew with such clarity and vile in the moment, as if oblivious to his existing cartel/DEA problems, indicates he still carries raw emotional scars from his childhood experiences. From this scene, we get a strong sense of why Ray seems determined to rely only on himself to protect his mother and Manny. The days are always overcast, cool, and seemingly wet in Dope Thief . Perhaps this is why Ray and Manny’s situation seems perpetually hopeless throughout much of the series, suggesting that the weather plays just as much a role in the show as the human characters. Theresa, however, brings levity to this intense story by acting independent of Ray’s demand to not pay for Bart’s lawyer, for instance, and challenging Ray in ways that come across as humorous, as she did with his claims about being a painter. She is undeterred and unflustered by Ray’s obvious untruths, self-imposed hardships, and even his efforts to dictate certain demands. When he is fiercely adamant, for instance, that he is not to be taken to the hospital for a serious injury, Theresa ignores his protests and implores the group to stop letting “this lunatic” run the show and get him to the hospital. Unable to go to the police given the crime they were committing at the time, Ray and Manny have to duck and cover on their own and ultimately fend for themselves. Sometimes, however, help comes from the most unexpected places. We see this when Bart’s lawyer, Michelle Taylor (Nesta Cooper), meets a reluctant Ray in a bar outside of Bart’s prison. Ray, using verbal cues and body language, signals to her that the people after him are in the bar waiting to follow him outside. Suspecting all along that he was in some kind of trouble, she helps him out of the situation rather than leaving him at the mercy of his would-be killers. The old saying that blood is thicker than water means there is nothing like the bonds of blood relations, but Dope Thief challenges this. The series has an ethnically diverse cast, with characters similar in social class and not related by blood. Yet, they are all connected to one another in ways traditionally conceived as a family unit. Manny and Ray have been best friends since high school, and while they butt heads like friends (and even biological brothers) do on occasion, each repeatedly risks his life for the other. Theresa, though not Ray’s biological mother, is loyal and strong-willed, both of which serve her well in protecting her son from himself and others. Michelle, albeit a lawyer and not a part of the social network, bonds with Ray and his family, despite the risks to her career and life in doing so. Hence, family is more than blood relations; it is a mutually supportive kinship. And as Stack and Ehrenreich showed in their studies, shared biology is not a prerequisite for gaining entrée to it. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

Loudermilk’s crude humor goes against the grain < Back Loudermilk’s crude humor goes against the grain Primary Wave Entertainment, 2017- 30 minutes Creator: Peter Farrelly and Bobby Mort Reading Time: 4 minutes 📷 : Licensed from Adobe Stock Loudermilk Delighted (AFT4OKLKGGWMNT7B) 00:00 / 04:23 Jasmine Movies and TV shows with heart, positive vibes, and warm messages Coca Movies and TV shows about drugs or with disorienting presentations Chris Chaisson 2021-08-30 In recent years, anti-bullying efforts have altered the subject matter of many comedies. Most mainstream half-hours have taken on a more wholesome approach to storytelling, highlighting family and relationship struggles. For many cable and streaming companies, comedies have shifted to dramedies, and the humor results from the characters’ overexposure to each other or complicated psychology. Loudermilk chooses a different route, opting for the older style of somewhat obscene humor. After his career as a music critic is cut short, Sam Loudermilk, played by Ron Livingston of Office Space fame, leads a support group for substance abuse that meets in a church basement. While this profession leads you to believe that he is a sensitive and caring individual, Sam is kind of a jerk. The critic in him never fades into the background. Every episode opens with him picking a fight with a stranger over their behavior, throwing out opinions he could have easily kept to himself. Nonetheless, our protagonist strives to help people fight addiction and he excels at it despite his antagonistic nature. Sam’s ability is underscored by the show’s inciting incident; a rich widow asking him to rehabilitate her troubled teenage daughter, Claire (Anya Savcic, Big Sky ). He obliges, and over the pilot episode, we see how his flaws as a human still manage to make him good at his job. His visage of apathy sets him apart from your stereotypical counselor and allows him to subvert the expectations of the cynical people he meets. Loudermilk’s imperfections set the tone for much of the series’ humor, as the recovering addicts in his group do not exhibit much tact either. On the surface, they are not easy characters to wrap your arms around. The group consists of deadbeat dads, womanizers and bookies, with Loudermilk himself having nearly committed vehicular manslaughter before finding his calling as a support group leader. However, they possess a shared redeeming quality, in that they acknowledge their wrongdoings and their need for help. They have reached a stage of self-improvement that many, addicts or not, never reach. Having this de facto family of misfits allows the series to create a diverse cast, with people of different ethnicities and nationalities represented as well as a character with a disability. The show does not shy away from storylines concerning sexism, ableism and racism, but still takes jabs at all the characters regardless of their background. In a strange way, the series exhibits a more progressive tone than many of the more culturally sensitive modern comedies. Despite their differences, the members of Loudermilk’s group bond through their efforts to mend their relationships and stay clean. We see them reconnect with people that they’ve hurt, and struggle exhibiting patience or with changing how they communicate. If you know people battling addiction, many of the show’s recurring messages may hit home. Though not overtly stated at any time, it hints at the fact of life that you cannot change the past; you can only strive to do better going forward. We see this play out specifically among Loudermilk in his attempts to atone for harsh music critiques, Ben (Will Sasso, MadTV) , Loudermilk’s best friend and roommate, and Mugsy (Brian Regan), a member of the support group who abandoned his family. A line that Claire throws back in Loudermilk’s face multiple times is that “getting clean is easy; living is hard.” In the end, Loudermilk effectively tackles difficult subject matters and shows how a group of people who are not at all family-oriented can still somehow form a family. While it is difficult to think of a strong comparison, Orange is the New Black comes close, as we see many of its main characters ponder how they wound up in prison and how to cope. It would be easy to observe the style of humor and dismiss Loudermilk as juvenile, but the show’s ability to humanize its main characters and portray the struggle to self-improvement with pinpoint accuracy make this half-hour series a tempting watch. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back Drive My Car breaks convention even within the framework of a familiar setup. Bitters End, 2021 179 minutes Director/Writer: Ryûsuke Hamaguchi / Haruki Murakami, Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, and Takamasa Oe Reading Time: 5 minutes Drive My Car Awase (LREOPXDAVYJMCQWE) 00:00 / 05:26 📷 : Used with permission, Snollygoster Productions https://www.instagram.com/snollygoster.productions/ https://posterspy.com/profile/snollygoster-productions/ Honeybush: Nonfamily dramas with strong adult and/or socioeconomic themes Ginger: Thought-provoking movies and TV shows Chris Chaisson 2022-02-12 If you spent much of the pandemic locked down with the same one or two people, you may have thrown around the term “trauma bonding” more than you ever thought you would. The notion that shared grief can bring individuals closer makes all the sense in the world, and often is necessary for many to push through traumatic events. Many times, our will and inspiration come from an unforeseen presence. Such is the case in director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s critically acclaimed Drive My Car . Drive My Car breaks convention even within the framework of a familiar setup. After all, we’ve seen the narrative of a troubled protagonist befriending their driver/passenger before, most notably in Driving Miss Daisy . Hamaguchi’s film presents a more personal, familial struggle for each of its co-stars than we’ve seen in past movies. Yüsuke (Hidetoshi Nishijima), our lead, crosses paths with Misaki (Tôko Miura) when Misaki is assigned to be his chauffeur while he prepares to direct a stage play in Hiroshima. As they open up to each other about troubling events from their respective pasts, it highlights the reality that there is no timetable for the grieving process. Both suffer survivor’s guilt and question their own self-worth. They each discover how much they need a sympathetic ear and outside perspective to push through their remorse. While many films present us with a basic “guardian angel” character dynamic, Drive My Car provides its audience with portrayals that we do not often get to see in U.S. cinema. One major divergent path that Hamaguchi’s film travels is in portraying its Asian male characters as sexually active and capable partners. Too often in Western cinema, Asian men are portrayed as impotent, undesirable, or even asexual. Drive My Car , while not being overly raunchy, wades into these waters and humanizes all its characters in doing so. Additionally, Yüsuke and Misaki’s bond manages to pull the audience in and steer clear of the temptation to force them together. Most stories on screen do not entertain the idea of a platonic opposite-sex relationship between single characters. Though some of the blame can be laid at the feet of the industry, the reality is audiences tend to crave that romance. Drive My Car pulls off the feat of showing two people thrust together connecting emotionally without the temptation, or at least the necessity, of a physical element. Interestingly enough, the movie pulls this off despite (or maybe because of) having already established the sexuality of its protagonist. It even shows an ancillary character who frequently seduces women but feels an emptiness over not achieving an emotional connection like Yüsuke. The story, on several occasions, illustrates intimacy in unexpected moments between unexpected duos. Another trend the film manages to buck is the dependable but familiar revenge angle. In casting his play, Yüsuke encounters a stage actor named Kôji (Masaki Okada), who he has every reason to hold a grudge against. While some lingering resentment remains, he figures out a way to work with Kôji and communicate on a meaningful level. As they meet, a possible direction the story could take would be for Yüsuke’s entire focus to shift toward plotting Kôji’s demise. This shift would have undermined the far more important internal struggle that Yüsuke already faces and instead center the story around a far less important character. This is not to scoff at the allure of revenge films but more to applaud Drive My Car for choosing a route less rooted in escapism. The most endearing element of the film, uncommon in just about any cinema, is the presence of a hearing-impaired character with a significant number of lines and screen time. One of Yüsuke’s actresses, Lee Yoo-na (Park Yoo-rim), speaks Korean Sign Language and wins her role with a strong audition. Despite being the spouse of Yusuke’s assistant director, she chooses to audition anonymously to avoid any favoritism. She invites Yüsuke over for dinner and stresses that she does not want to be treated more kindly than any other actor in the production. The penultimate scene in the film consists of Lee delivering a long, powerful monologue on stage, signing a message of encouragement with her arms wrapped around Yüsuke. In addition to Driving Miss Daisy , Drive My Car also brings to mind the classic Alexander Payne film, About Schmidt . Jack Nicholson plays a disgruntled husband in a rut who, upon suddenly losing his wife, struggles adjusting to his new identity as a widower. He makes it his mission to hit the road and reconnect with his daughter, hoping to talk her out of what he sees as a future loveless marriage. While not an identical comp, Yüsuke needs a mission and a companion to find his sense of purpose. Hamaguchi weaves together a deep, personal story that manages to go against the grain, illustrating diversity of not just race and gender, but characters and relationships. 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My Name inserts a less common hero into a common revenge tale < Back My Name inserts a less common hero into a common revenge tale Studio Santa Claus Entertainment, 2021 50 minutes Creator: Kim Va-da and Kim Jin-Min Reading Time: 6 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Netflix My Name Treacherous (HASFF8RDHNWNIWOB) 00:00 / 06:09 Rosemary Movies and TV shows with intense action Chris Chaisson 2023-04-04 “To take revenge is to become a monster. A monster is what you are.” The action genre is littered with revenge stories. More often than not, though, the central character is a man with combat training and a violent past. He is an underdog merely in the sense that he is outnumbered and has made strides to retire his violent persona. Less common in the genre is a revenge story centered around a female protagonist going undercover in order to achieve said vengeance. Ji-Woo (Han So-hee, Nevertheless ) is that protagonist, joining organizations on both sides of the law in the Netflix K-drama My Name . When her father (Yoon Kyung-ho, All of Us Are Dead ), a cop masquerading as a powerful gangster, is murdered while trying to protect her, Ji-Woo seeks both the truth and payback. She joins the dojo of gangsters funded by her father’s closest friend, Choi Mu-Jin (Hee-soon Park, Seven Days ), and learns martial arts. Once she has honed her skills, she infiltrates the local police force, operating as a mole for Choi Mu-Jin’s criminal organization. Once she gains her footing in law enforcement, Ji-Woo transfers to her father’s old unit in order to gain access to the documents she hopes will lead her to her father’s killer. The draw of My Name is Ji-Woo’s character arc, with the story taking place over a 6-year period. She must keep growing both as a martial artist and a detective if she wants to achieve the vengeance she craves. As a teenager and student, she has raw anger and aggression that she must learn to harness. Ji-Woo fends off an attack from school bullies, showing that while she is not a trained fighter, she can still defend herself. When she first goes to Choi Mu-Jin for help, he puts a knife in her hand and challenges her to stab him as though he were her father’s killer. She cannot bring herself to even make an attempt, causing him to impatiently throw her out of his headquarters. After she returns, she becomes a highly skilled and disciplined fighter over time, besting all of the male gangsters in the dojo who have harassed and bullied her. Ji-Woo’s ability to quell her blind rage and learn to think like a detective make her a lethal weapon. We see Ji-Woo’s progression continue when she first joins the police force. Thanks to her experience of being surrounded by violence and misogyny at the dojo, her gut instinct in every mission is to beat up the bad guys rather than complete the objective in covert fashion. This tendency lands her in hot water multiple times with Pil-do (Ahn Bo-Hyun, Itaewon Class) , who eventually becomes her partner. Once Ji-Woo learns to operate with patience and discipline, she draws less attention to herself, which allows her to escape several close calls where her identity is nearly revealed to her co-workers. As she admits multiple times throughout the series, Ji-Woo has made her entire existence about catching her father’s killer. This would be hampered if her motives were found out prematurely. Where My Name excels the most is in its action sequences. Ji-Woo’s petite frame makes her appear overmatched in every fight, so she must use her agility, quickness and any objects handy. In the very first episode, she finds herself in a caged match at the dojo with dozens of other gangsters as part of a free-for-all. They must fight until only one of them is left standing. She and fellow martial artist Gang-jae Do (Yull Jang, Welcome to Waikiki ) outlast every other member and face off with one another. Many other scenes show Ji-Woo taking on several villains in confined spaces: bathrooms, narrow corridors or even elevators. She generally does not have the option to run, rely on back-up, or even use a firearm. The claustrophobic nature of the hand-to-hand combat illustrates the sense of self-reliance Ji-Woo has had to take on without her father’s protection. As the fight scenes play out, a recurring thought a viewer may have is that Ji-Woo does not really have to endure any of these life-and-death situations. Yet, as she states, “I gave up my future and my name to get my dad’s murderer!” She grieves over his death many times throughout the series, as seeking information about those responsible forces her to relive the agony repeatedly. While on the surface level she is fighting for temporary survival, Ji-Woo is always essentially fighting for revenge. A major motif of revenge stories is whether or not success ultimately fulfills the protagonist. Generally, the main character finds that they are still not satisfied when they reach the end of their mission. They still carry the emptiness they previously had and realize that nothing will bring back the loved one they lost. Ji-Woo questions out loud not only if vengeance is worth what she loses but also what the quest for vengeance has turned her, and others, into. Similar to other revenge stories, My Name incorporates the “fish out of water” trope. In shows like Lupin and The English , the main character comes from a different background or socioeconomic situation as the villains they target for vengeance. In spite of her combat skills, Ji-Woo certainly qualifies as a fish out of water by first infiltrating an all-male criminal organization and later the predominantly male police force. Her mission is not steeped in greed and malice like the gangsters, but it is also not in criminal justice like the other police officers. She is merely there to avenge her own father’s murder. As far as revenge stories go, My Name is most reminiscent of the 2010s ABC hit Revenge (hard to get more on-the-nose than that). Emily Thorne arrives in the Hamptons seeking payback against those who wronged her father. While Revenge is more based around money than violent crime, Emily and Ji-Woo both serve as good examples of characters who have broken off their life paths in search of retaliation. 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< Back Anton Deshawn A Conversation with The Untold Story of Mild Sauce Writer/Director Anton Deshawn Writer/Director Anton Deshawn joins COTC for a deep dive into his short film Chris Chaisson 2023-05-03 Reading time: 11 minutes After completing his first feature film Call Center , writer/director Anton Deshawn switched gears and created The Untold Story of Mild Sauce, a short film shot and edited during the pandemic. The short serves as a parody of 90s R&B groups, managers who swindle artists out of their earnings, and frequent in-fighting that leads to their breakups, told in the style of a VH1 exposé. Cup of Tea Critiques sat down with Anton to learn about his filmmaking process, Mild Sauce , the challenges he faced while shooting during the pandemic, and his personal tastes in music and movies. Mild Sauce is shot mockumentary style and tells the story of a 90’s R&B group through a VH1 bio-pic style. Anton shared his inspiration for the short film and the group itself. I am a big 90s R&B music fan, so I'm a big fan of Jodeci, Boyz II Men, H-Town, Dru Hill. Also too, I am a huge fan of shows like Behind the Music … So I'm a nerd when it comes to stuff like those biography-type shows. I just thought you know what, what if I made a film about a fictional R&B group that had the sound of the 90s, that I made sure I touch on the new jack swing, the freaky R&B type sound, and the traditional love songs and then throw in like, the more pop-sound R&B. So that was mainly the inspiration. If I had to give a couple movie examples, This Is Spinal Tap, The Five Heartbeats, The Wedding Singer . The reason why I say The Wedding Singer is because it has that 80s nostalgia to it that I really love. I wanted to get that spirit and just move into more of just the 90s instead of more 80s that The Wedding Singer did. One other inspiration was a film called Fear of a Black Hat . [Mild Sauce] is like a combination of Jodeci, Dru Hill, and probably like H-Town; H-Town was one of my favorites too. But more so Jodeci if I had to get one more group. But Jodeci didn't really dance like that. Dru Hill did. But I wanted to kind of highlight that cheesiness in it. And not to go too far ahead. One of my cheesiest favorite videos from the 90s was the Az Yet song “Last Night.” So that was the whole inspiration for that video [in the film], “Could You Be the One,” the last music video, that was just entirely blue screen. The Az Yet song was where that video came from. “Last Night,” which was like, their only hit. That kind of inspired me. But if you go back and look at that song where they were dancing in the tank tops and stuff. I kind of did bits and pieces not just with male R&B groups, but some of the lighting I kind of stole from TLC's "Red Light Special." So if you go back and look at that video, where part of is in black and white and part of is in color, I kind of use that same color scheme with my cinematographer and my set designer to where I wanted to highlight that "Red Light Special" video where they had that red dim light to it. So I didn't just limit it to male R&B. I also wanted to kind of highlight some female groups from the 90s too, because I was a fan of those as well. Anton shared his plans for the concept moving forward. …I always had it in mind to make it a feature film… and I originally wrote the first draft as a feature film. …I finished that draft in probably 2017. Then I went back in 2019, 2020 and minimized it to make it more like a short film. Mild Sauce contains several original songs and music videos. Anton shouted out the artists who wrote and produced the music in his short and discussed how their collaboration came about. I actually went to school for music business. That was actually my first love before I even got into filmmaking. I wanted to own my own record company. And I have my degree in Arts and Entertainment Media Management. I still keep ties with folks that are artists, songwriters and things like that. So [for this film] I had a total of three songwriters and two producers. So basically, I knew in my head the sound I wanted for this film… I had great producers, who actually gave me what I wanted it to sound like. A friend I went to college with…her name is Sherry Amour. She wrote two of the songs. She wrote the female group song, “Makes Me Want to Dance” and she wrote “Could You Be the One.” [My wife’s cousin in Atlanta] wrote the Stony Mack song “Funk”. And my cousin who was the co-writer [of the film], one of his roommates from Gary, Indiana wrote “Big Willie” and “Be a Super Freak.” So it was just a collaborative effort where either I reached out to folks, or my cousin reached out to the one songwriter. I told him what I was looking for and boom, it didn't take too many takes for them to send me back what they came up with. I was like, “Hey, I like this. We're gonna go with this.” Many filmmakers draw inspiration from another hobby or discipline that they have. Given this, Anton revealed whether he plans to make his background outside of film into his signature. I don't really limit myself on that. I didn't think of it like that. It's funny because the most recent script that I'm writing is a story based off one of my favorite freestyles that I heard, so [music] is a lot of times inspiration for a lot of my work, but I have other stories that I just haven't put pen to pad on yet that really don't have anything to do with music. As artists you get inspired from any and everything. So it doesn't take much to inspire me. But I will say music probably plays a pivotal influence on a lot of things that I do. Anton listed some of his favorite filmmakers and what he enjoys about their work. I like Martin Scorsese. I like the Coen Brothers. I actually like their versatility. No Country for Old Men is one of my favorite movies, and so is The Big Lebowski . As far as Black filmmakers, I like Ryan Coogler. Spike Lee for the most part, I mean more so his older stuff… Did I say Quentin Tarantino yet? Yeah, I like Quentin’s work as a director. He's [influenced] some of the stuff I've done as far as storytelling. The Hughes brothers. I like mostly all their work they've done. Yeah, so those are some of the ones that [come] to mind. Directing encompasses a lot of different responsibilities, from composing shots to coaching up the on-screen talent. Anton divulged his favorite aspect of the job and why. Conversing with the actors, just giving them direction on what I envision. It's a collaborative effort, because even though I write the material, I'm not so tied to it that it has to be my way or the highway. A lot of times, actors will have questions or come up with suggestions, like, ‘Hey, how about, [or do] you think [I can] do it like that?’ So, and then also, too, I've done quite a few comedies as well. I also give my actors freedom to ad lib. So a lot of times, if they feel like, hey, this line doesn't really flow, [they’ll ask] can I say it like this? I give them that room. So I think that's one thing I kind of take pride in is that I give my actors freedom. But I know when to reel it back in if I need to. … Basically, I let people do their jobs. I'm hiring you, if I cast you, I'm gonna let you do your job. You know, if I hire you, as cinematographer, as set designer, to do sound, I'm gonna let you do your job. Productions can be very fragile and take a lot of planning and good fortune to reach completion. Anton shared his biggest challenges to shooting The Untold Story of Mild Sauce and how he navigated through them. Well, the biggest challenge was that we actually shot this in the middle of the pandemic, in the fall of 2020. And it was a SAG project (Screen Actors Guild). So they had new guidelines in place. Safety was number one. … It's always the top thing, but it was even more so… We had to walk a fine line, because everyone had to get tested. So that was challenging. And the vaccine wasn't even out yet. So you had to get tested, and then actors wearing their masks on set, and also we couldn't have normal craft services. So everything had to be in prepackaged bags for individuals. That was the biggest challenge. Just trying to make sure we were in COVID protocol. And this was a big production with crew and with actors too. So this was literally a two-day shoot, believe it or not. I was crazy enough to think I could do this in one day. I don't know what I was thinking. The other crazy thing is one of my actors dropped out, literally two days before we shot. So thankfully, I went back to a person that auditioned for a different role. And I was like, oh, this person can do that. They were available, and it worked out. After finishing a short, filmmakers spend a lot of time submitting to festivals, scheduling screenings, and marketing the finished product. Anton reveals his perspective on whether or not he was exhausted by the process and the value of feedback. Oh, no, man, I was looking forward to it. I couldn't wait, that was an exciting thing. I was just thankful to make the film festival, any film festival that we submitted to and we were able to get in. So even to this day, somebody accepts the film, and they're gonna screen it in person, I'm gonna be there. Because you never know who you're going to meet. Just a prime example, when we were in Black Harvest for my first feature film, Call Center , I had actors come up to me. And one of the actors that came up to me during that screening was one of the actors I ended up casting in Mild Sauce . So you never know who you're going to meet. I'm all about networking. So that's actually the fun part is actually seeing that, and seeing that audience reaction like okay, did this joke work? Okay, this joke worked in the Chicago crowd, but it didn't work here. So it's almost like a focus group; you kind of know what works and doesn’t work. Like other directors Cup of Tea Critiques has talked to, Anton enjoys the social aspects of directing the most: working with actors, networking and getting feedback from audience members. Anton’s experience coming up with the music for The Untold Story of Mild Sauce serves as a reminder that some of the best helping hands already exist in our social circle. Watch The Untold Story of Mild Sauce on kweliTV , available on the web or any smart TV, or watch Anton’s feature film Call Center on kweliTV or Amazon . 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Sunrise Meets Sunset shows the turmoil that threatens the gift of music < Back Sunrise Meets Sunset shows the turmoil that threatens the gift of music Makenna Guyler, 2022 7 minutes Director/Writer: Aram Atkinson Reading Time: 3 minutes 📷 : Used with permission, Aram Atkinson Sunrise Meets Sunset Power (13UR2T1Z0YUK42MZ) 00:00 / 03:43 Dandelion Movies and TV shows with heavy subjects Ginger Thought-provoking movies and TV shows Reba Chaisson 2022-10-08 “Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.” ( Victor Hugo , early 19th century) Centering around a small, predominantly Black British jazz group, Sunrise Meets Sunset takes place during a time of racial civil unrest in 1960s London. The outside forces spill over into the group and risk tearing apart the members’ potentially promising musical careers. Starring Durassie Kiangangu as Ray ( Imperial Blue , False Men ) and Sanchez Brown as Nile ( Game Over , Malachi ), the film brings the outside turmoil up-close and personal when Ray arrives late to a rehearsal badly beaten and bruised on the day of a show. With telling dialog and footage, Sunrise Meets Sunset parallels the same historical period in the United States where, like the UK, it was in a battle over the struggle for civil rights and racial justice. The story brings to mind the film Green Book , based on the life of piano virtuoso Dr. Donald Shirley. With Mahershala Ali in the titled role, the movie depicts the high level of disruption to Dr. Shirley’s routine and badly needed rest as he travels the Deep South during the Jim Crow era of racial segregation. Black people, including famous artists, were not permitted to stay in some hotels or eat in upscale restaurants. This widespread discrimination forced them to drive extra hours to find accommodations listed in what was known as “ The Green Book ,” a guide to establishments for Black people. Ray and Miles Ahead are two additional movies that come to mind. In the former, Ray Charles arrives in Georgia for a performance and suddenly cancels, stating that it is wrong to play to segregated audiences. A story about Miles Davis, Miles Ahead does not contain scenes from the South, but it does depict the actual event of the artist’s beating and arrest by New York City police in 1959 for standing in front of the jazz club where he was performing. So, despite their celebrity, wealth, and musical talents, Black artists did not escape the touch of racism during that tumultuous period. Although only seven minutes, Sunrise Meets Sunset poignantly displays the frustration among band members and the enormous degree to which racial strife weighs on them, both individually and as a group. Some may ask how artists endured given these pressures, how the show went on. My response is that we will never know the count of those who cut short their musical careers because the stress took such a toll on their lives. For the ones we do know about (i.e. Ella Fitzgerald, Duke Ellington, Dizzy Gillespie, Louis Armstrong, B. B. King, and others), we can only surmise that they persisted because they loved bringing their music to us more than they could tolerate the often brutal treatment of authorities and the disrespect of proprietors in the ”hospitality” industry. Perhaps it is this resolve that explains what is meant by music being a gift from the heart and of the soul. And oh, what a gift it is! Available on Film Shortage Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!

< Back The Long Game shines a light on unspoken experiences around golf Endeavor Content, 2024 112 minutes Director/Writer: Julio Quintana / Paco Farias, Humberto G. Garcia, and Julio Quintana Reading Time: 6 minutes The Long Game Living Tapestry (ZZ1KBSUU80KVDVD8) 00:00 / 08:01 📷 : Licensed from Shutterstock Chamomile: Family dramas Masala Chai Movies and TV shows about toughness and athletic competition Reba Chaisson 2024-04-22 “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” Maya Angelou The Long Game centers five teenage friends in the border town of Del Rio, Texas, in the 1950s. The five boys of Mexican descent have a genuine love of golf and a serious set of skills to go with their passion for the game. They are so enthusiastic about playing that they use manual tools to convert an empty stretch of land near a highway into a golf course. They meet JB Peña, played by Magnum P.I . star Jay Hernandez, a military veteran and avid golfer who joins the San Felipe High School district as the new superintendent. After some cajoling, Peña convinces the boys to join the school’s inaugural varsity golf team. Frank Mitchell (Dennis Quaid) is Peña’s military buddy and fellow golf coach who works at a nearby country club and sneaks the team onto the course at night for practice. The coaches use their car headlights to illuminate the course, and with the help of the club’s maintenance man, played by Cheech Marin, they avail themselves of the spare equipment. Subdued and soft-spoken, Peña talks to his team about how to present themselves at the competitions. He tells them to keep their shirts tucked in at all times, to not speak Spanish on the golf course, and to avoid reacting to any negative treatment. This stirs up a couple of thoughts. The first thought concerns the adage about sticks and stones hurting and words not. This age‑old axiom falsely conveys the sense that people, especially young people, are not harmed by words, even when the language is venomous and marginalizing. In The Long Game, we hear insults hurled at the players, observe refusals for club memberships, and note outright cheating in efforts to engineer the kids’ failure. Today, we call this behavior bullying and deem it a peril to mental and potentially physical health. Naming the behavior now doesn’t negate its impact on those who suffered it in the past. Playing golf then meant paying a psychological cost to do so. Secondly, Peña’s directive to not respond to microaggressions brings 42 to mind, the film about Jackie Robinson’s experiences on the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball team in the 1940s and ‘50s. The movies are similar with respect to cinematography, two-tone shoes, and the men’s hats, sweater vests, and baggy pants reflecting the era. In 42 , Dodger co-owner Branch Rickey implores 28-year-old Robinson to ignore the prejudice and discrimination he was likely to experience from players on the field and in the clubhouse. During the movie, we saw balls thrown at Robinson’s head, his heels spiked while running the bases, and even his relegation to a segregated compartment in his own clubhouse. Rickey’s insistence that Robinson not respond stemmed from his goal to do nothing to jeopardize the inroads of Black players into Major League Baseball. In The Long Game , Peña’s goal is similar with respect to carving out pathways for Mexicans to move into golf. We can argue that Peña’s directive to his team is unreasonable. But when considered within the historical context of the story, it is difficult to insist that his rule was wrong. The ‘50s was a different era and times have since changed. Zippia data shows that 16% of the nearly 7,000 PGA America golfers today are of Hispanic or Latino origin, approximately 13 of whom are of Mexican descent. Nearly two-thirds of the organization's golfers are non-Hispanic White. The numbers were much more lopsided 74 years ago, indicating that people of Hispanic or Latino descent have since made some entrée into the sport. Phil Keren, senior editor of Club + Resort Business , penned a candid article on the changing demographics in golf. He acknowledges the sport’s growing racial and ethnic diversity and lauds the development of grassroots programs around the U.S. to engage kids and girls in the game. He notes, however, that the impetus for these efforts is the ongoing perception of golf and country clubs as exclusive spaces for wealthy White men. In its report on diversity , golf research company Syngenta Golf concluded that “By creating an environment and experience where minority groups feel welcome and valued — and this is reflected in your club imagery and communications — this will help other diverse groups understand that this is a place where they could belong.” But the study quotes a White golfer who insists the sport should do nothing to seek out people of color so that White golfers “feel less guilty.” In another instance, a player of color complains about a White golfer repeatedly using the N-word to refer to his ball and his clubs when he was having a bad game. While the sport’s diversity has increased, the sentiments remain unchanged from previous eras, and the underrepresentation of people of color continues to project it as a place for Whites only. It is no surprise then that Syngenta Golf reports that people of color continue to feel unwelcome on the course. The Long Game ’s dialog and imagery make clear its theme of challenging stereotypes about Mexican people. Peña speaks to Frank about the importance of golfing competition to his team, stating “They need to see us as something other than caddies and cannon fodder.” Peña and his wife Lucy, played by Jaina Lee Ortiz, are loving and respectful of one another, which contrasts with the stoicism often depicted of Mexican men. The idea that Mexicans cannot control their temper is challenged when the team resists any response to ethnic microaggressions. And stereotypes of Mexican families living in crowded apartments is countered with the Peñas’ beautiful and roomy home. The film doesn’t stop there, as it debunks the common generalization that all White people from the time period were racist. Peña’s army buddy, Frank, offers him helpful insights into the potential behaviors of golf competitors and wealthy club members to help inform his decisions on dealing with influential stakeholders. A White club manager who follows the unwritten rules about qualifications for membership privately pulls for the San Felipe High School team to do well. Challenging stereotypes about a group of color alongside the debunking of assumptions about White people is a difficult feat in historical films like The Long Game . Director Julio Quintana must be commended for his focus on insisting that each group not be painted with a broad brush. Like Rickey in 42 , Peña in The Long Game was playing the long game. Both were keenly aware of the challenges they faced in their respective sport in their time. Imagine for a bit what would have happened had any of the players responded to every insult and transgression on their respective fields of play. I wonder what golf and baseball would look like today. But I also wonder about the players’ mental health back then given the bullying and ostracism they endured. Every time I watch an independent film, I am appreciative of the story it tells. With fact-based narratives like Killers of the Flower Moon and 42 , I come away more informed of our past and with an enhanced perspective on our present. Long Game is one of those films. Previous Next Sign-up for new reviews, exclusives, deep dives, and more First name Last name Enter your email here I agree to the terms & conditions Sign-up Thanks for joining us!