THE SIN CROWD

Check out my reviews, online at Phoenix Magazine, of Ryan Coogler's badass Sinners...

...and the anthropomorphic footwear adventure Sneaks...

EXPIRATION DATE

Check out my review, online at Phoenix Magazine, of Drop...

...the new Hitchcock/DePalma style thriller from Blumhouse.

You can also check out my review of Truce...

...Cody Dull's comedy-drama, continuing at Stage Left Productions through April 27.

CAPITOL GAINS

Saturday Your Humble Narrator trudged down to the State Capitol here in Phoenix...

...as did many thousands of people all over the country, to protest the current Administration. Here are a few specimens of my characteristically abysmal photojournalism. Please excuse some of the coarse, if understandable, language; in one sign Our Current President is called by a word far too nice for him...

On a crowded bus on the way home, an elderly Native American man in a big cowboy hat cleared his stuff off the seat next to him and kindly offered it to me. I thanked him and sat. The bus was crammed with returning protestors carrying signs.

"What's going on?" the man, Christopher by name, asked me.

"There was a big protest at the State Capitol."

"Oh. What were they protesting?"

"[The President]."

"If you want to protest [The President], don't do it," said Christopher. "The people elected him. I'm not a Republican; I'm not a Democrat. But Biden slept on the beach, and let everybody in at the border. Terrorists, murderers, rapists. You want a rapist living next door to you?"

"No I don't," I said.

"[The President] is doing something good," he said.

"What part of town do you live in, Christopher?"

"Downtown. I pay my rent."

"Do you have kids?"

"I have a son. He's in the 101st Airborne."

"You must be proud."

"I'm not proud. I didn't do anything. I don't even have a home."

Indeed, he was wearing several layers of clothes on a warm day, and seemed to have a lot of his belongings with him. He looked homeless, at that.

"Well, you said you pay rent."

"Hotel. Does that count?"

Christopher told me he was a Chiricahua Apache from San Carlos who had moved to Phoenix after his wife passed on. He reiterated, several times, that Biden had "slept on the beach" while murderous, rape-minded hordes had overrun our society from the south. An internet search suggests that this refers to footage that showed up in the media last August, which I had somehow missed, of Biden committing the grievous sin of snoozing on Rehoboth Beach in Delaware with his wife.

Reminding me repeatedly that he was neither a Republican nor a Democrat, Christopher, who declined my request to photograph him, again assured me that the current President "is doing something good."

I remain unconvinced, but he seemed like a nice man.

I SAW DESIGN

Check out my quick preview, online at Phoenix Magazine, of the Arizona Architectural Film Showcase 2025...

...playing at a couple of different downtown venues August 9, August 13 and August 17. It's the latest from my pal Steve Weiss, the man behind the indie film series "No Festival Required."

WALL POWER

Celebrity Theater on 32nd Street in Phoenix has long been one of Your Humble Narrator's favorite venues in the Valley; I've seen such legends as Tito Puente, Art Garfunkel, Merle Haggard, Frankie Valli and Norm Macdonald perform on that circular stage. I hadn't been to the old-school place in several years, but last week I improbably found myself there, at a concert by Floyd Nation, a popular Pink Floyd tribute band.

Meaning no disrespect to a group that is obviously great of its kind, Pink Floyd has never been a major favorite of mine. Extended Prog Rock noodling tends to have a somniferous effect on me, and I spent much of the evening in the packed, very warm house with my eyes closed, trying to decide if I would be able to tell that it wasn't the genuine article from just listening. I decided I wouldn't. I also got in some lovely catnaps, between applause breaks.

Here are a pics from my phone that do the staging no justice:

This relaxed, pleasant evening was interrupted by one truly exciting highlight, however: Floyd Nation's performance of "The Wall," featuring Phoenix Boys Choir, under the direction of Herbert Washington, as guest artists.

The sight and sound of those little goobers, in their jackets and ties, marching resolutely up onto the stage and joining in the chorus brought the gray-haired, paunchy audience to our feet to sing along. I joined in as lustily as the rest, in my best English accent. It was one of the more hilariously awesome things I've witnessed in a while.

But I must admit that, in the context of this show, I'm out of sympathy with those lyrics.

Don't get me wrong, I understand the physically and psychologically abusive "education" in the British boarding school system that this song was opposing was often a horrifying atrocity. But the self-satisfied elderly American Floyd fans singing along at this show were not the victims of that abuse. In the parking lot at the Celebrity I saw a Trump sticker on an enormous GMC pickup; I doubt it was the only vehicle carrying such sympathizers.

And for people like us, in this country at this time...I think we do need some education. I think our lack of education is itself an opening for thought control.

I'm not even sure, at this point, that we don't deserve, and wouldn't benefit from, a little bit of dark sarcasm in the classroom.

Anyway, at the act break, promoter Danny Zelisko came up on stage and auctioned off two guitars signed by the band, to benefit Phoenix Boys Choir's upcoming trip to Spain and Portugal. They went for a total of $8,000! I bought a raffle ticket for a third such guitar, also benefitting the trip, but apparently I didn't win the precious axe. Go to PBC's website if you'd like to help.

NATURAL HORN KILLERS

In the multiplexes this weekend:

Death of a Unicorn--Paul Rudd plays Elliot, a lawyer, who is enroute to the home of his megarich employers, where he's on the verge of a massive promotion. With him is his sullen daughter Ridley (Jenna Ortega), perfectly well aware that she's being used as a prop to show what a good family man Elliot is, to help him clinch the deal. They're both still bereaved over the recent death of his wife.

Driving up a mountain road to the remote home, Elliot hits and injures what appears for all the world to be a baby unicorn. Just as the creature is establishing a psychic bond with Ridley when she touches its horn, Elliot bashes it in the skull, meaning to put it out of its misery, and also to get the hell to the meeting for which he's already late.

They carry the body to the palatial home in the back of their rental SUV, but if you guess that their encounter with single-horned magical equines isn't over, you'd be right. The movie takes off from its literal-minded opening into a satire of the wealthy, their bottomless capacity to self-justify, and the similar capacity for toadies like Elliot or the rich family's manservant Griff (the excellent Anthony Carrigan)--to justify enabling them. The employers, you see, are in the pharmaceutical biz, and they--Dad Richard E. Grant, Mom Tea Leoni and cloddish son Will Poulter--soon realize that the creature's horn is a virtual panacea offering a cure for cancer, among other miraculous properties.

Written and directed by Alex Scharfman, Death of a Unicorn is strikingly funny and exciting. It also carries a tinge of sourness, but this is true of most satires. Rudd's obsequious, cowardly character is deeply unlikable for much of the film's length, but this is offset because, of course, Rudd himself is one of the most naturally likable actors on the planet.

In the same way, Scharfman offsets the (justified) bitterness of the satire with monster-movie elements--even some gore--and a dash of New Age mysticism. And he plays fair by the rules of these genres. It's also nice to see unicorns rescued from My Little Pony-style cutesy insipidity, and depicted as badass.

The Penguin Lessons--From horned horses to flightless birds: here's the second movie in less than a year set in South America and based, however loosely, on the real-life friendship between a foundling penguin and a bereaved aging man. Last summer we got My Penguin Friend, with Jean Reno. Despite Reno's undeniable star presence, some gorgeous scenery and the endearing title character, this new effort is a big improvement.

Steve Coogan plays Tom Michell, a cynical, lazy, emotionally shut-down English professor at a private school for upscale Argentine boys in Buenos Aires in 1976. On a weekend in Uruguay, he's walking on the beach with a beautiful woman he's met dancing, and they come upon an oil-slicked Magellanic penguin. 

Mostly to impress the woman, Michell takes the poor creature back to his hotel and they clean him up. Things don't work out with the woman, but Michell finds himself stuck with the penguin, smuggling him back into the school and trying to keep him a secret from the strict Headmaster (Jonathan Pryce). Eventually the bird, dubbed "Juan Salvador Gaviota"--the Spanish name of Jonathan Livingston Seagull--becomes a classroom teaching aid and a beloved mascot.

Juan Salvador also triggers a spiritual reawakening in Michell, who connects through him with the family of a cleaning lady at the school. The Junta has just taken over, and people are being "disappeared" off the street in broad daylight; Michell finds himself unable to remain apolitical.

Despite a couple of Monty Python references early on--the Pythons had a long and noble history with penguins--this Brit film isn't a broad comedy. At the beginning we're told that "This story is inspired by real events," whatever that may mean; the script by Jeff Pope is based on a memoir by the real-life Michell. Directed by Peter Cattaneo of The Full Monty--one of the very best poignant Brit comedies--The Penguin Lessons has laughs, but it's also character-driven and melancholy; in the long run it could fairly be called a tearjerker.

It's hard to imagine the movie working as well as it does with anyone but Coogan in the lead. As in the terrific Philomena (2013), he plays an elaborately ironic, acerbic poseur whose reserve is gradually and reluctantly broken down by a guileless fellow being; the penguin serves almost as well as Judi Dench in this role. But Coogan never gets sappy. He lets the marvelous bird melt us, then he dries the movie out again.

IT'S ALL GOODYEAR

Happy Opening Day Eve everybody! Your Humble Narrator only made it to one Cactus League game this year, to see the D-backs take on the Reds at Goodyear Ballpark...

I rooted for my beloved Snakes of course, but to no avail; they lost the hard-fought game 9-8. My only disloyalties that day were culinary; I enjoyed Skyline Chili Hot Dogs...

...as well as Handel's Ice Cream from Youngstown...

Quite a Buckeye State pig-out; indeed, the flavor on the bottom is called Buckeye, a mixture of peanut butter ice cream and Reese's-like peanut butter candy. It wasn't all Ohio, however; I also saw the Whataburger Man...

...and got one of the lamer imaginable selfies with him...

Anyway, Play Ball!

OVER THE RAINBOW BRIDGE

Perry Fanzo, star presenter on Channel 3's Pets on Parade...

...passed on last month, just a few weeks after our beloved Chihuahua Eddie...

...to whom Fanzo introduced us back in 2012. Here's my Phoenix Magazine online tribute to them both.

FOWL PLAY

Check out my reviews, online at Phoenix Magazine, of the great new Zambian film On Becoming a Guinea Fowl...

...and of dueling DeNiros in The Alto Knights...

PITCH SESSION

Check out my reviews, online at Phoenix Magazine, of Eephus...

...and Mickey 17...

...now in the multiplexes.

ANORA A DAY, AND THE OSCARS YOU'LL SLAY...

This morning Your Humble Narrator enjoyed conducting an "Oscar post-mortem" with Sam Dingman of The Show on KJZZ...

...you can listen to it here.

You can also check out my review of the PTSD drama My Dead Friend Zoe...

...online at Phoenix Magazine.

NO PAIN, NO DANE

Now streaming only on MUBI:

Grand Theft Hamlet--This one flew way under the radar during its very brief theatrical run here in the Valley. I'm glad that it's now available for streaming.

Directed by Pinny Grylls and Sam Crane, it's the story of how in 2021 two young British actors (Crane and Mark Oosterven), sidelined by the COVID lockdown, decided to audition, cast and stage a production of Hamlet within the confines of Grand Theft Auto Online. The film unfolds entirely in the virtual realm of that classic video game, a favorite of armchair criminals since 1997, and played online for more than a decade.

Except for a few arcade games when I was in high school and a simple game called Backyard Zombies that I had on my phone for a while, I essentially don't play video games at all. I was vaguely aware of the existence and popularity of Grand Theft Auto, but I had no idea what an expansive and immersive and visually alluring environment it is.

The online aspect, allowing for interaction, however indirect, with other human beings, adds to its intrigue. I remember being up late reading in my front room one night some years ago when my kid, who had been playing some combat game in her room, emerged tearful because she had lost track of a dude she had been playing online with and had no way to reconnect with him. So the creative and collaborative possibilities of modern videos games, and the potential for real emotional investment in them, seem to be broader than I would have guessed.

On the other hand, I am pretty familiar with Hamlet. That is one seriously good play, and this movie is a testament to the durability and adaptability of the masterpiece. In Jurassic Park, Jeff Goldblum insists that "life finds a way"; this movie is one of many examples supporting the assertion that "Shakespeare finds a way."

But Grand Theft Hamlet is also an amusing and sometimes touching ode to the vagaries of making theatre. Even in this controlled setting and these narrow circumstances, these guys are still afflicted with herding cats in rehearsal, actors apologetically quitting because they got a better gig, etc. Plus, in this production you never know when strangers are going to show up and shoot you.

RED ROCK FEST

Check out Phoenix Magazine online for my short preview of the 31st annual Sedona International Film Festival...

...and the Harkins "Tuesday Night Classics" showing of Singin' in the Rain.

SO SANE BEAR

Happy Valentine's Day (and Friday) everybody!

Check out my reviews, online at Phoenix Magazine, of Paddington in Peru...

...and Captain America: Brave New World...

...and a preview of this year's Greater Phoenix Jewish Film Festival.

HEART OF THE SPLATTER

Check out my review, online at Phoenix Magazine, of the Valentine-themed slasher romcom Heart Eyes...

...now in theaters.

DOG; DAYS

Happy Friday everybody! Check out my reviews, online at Phoenix Magazine, of Dog Man...

...and One of Them Days...

...now in theaters.

FLOW CHART

The Oscar nominations came out earlier this week; Your Humble Narrator graciously waited until afterwards to present my Top Ten List for 2024, so as not to make the Academy's announcement an anticlimax. Here, roughly in order of preference, are the ten films that I think I liked best this year:

1. Flow--No movie last year meant quite as much to me as this wordless, visually exquisite animated feline adventure from Latvia.  

2. Conclave--This Vatican melodrama has the sweep of a great silent, but also humane and lovable performances, especially that of Ralph Fiennes.

3. The Bikeriders--Compelling, beautifully shot wheeler held together by the funny, sensible performance of Jodie Comer.

4. Heretic--Comparative religion debate in horror movie form; it goes a bit too gruesome in the homestretch, perhaps, and it's defamatory toward blueberry pie, but Hugh Grant's performance is a tour de force.

5. A Complete Unknown--Dylan's early years make for a conventional but enjoyable and musically rich biopic.

6. Nickel Boys--The horrors of a Florida reform school for boys, and the triumph of friendship, both seen from the point of view of two of the boys. Heartbreaking but thrilling.

7. A Real Pain--Two Jewish cousins from New York go to Poland together to explore their grandmother's Holocaust experience. Kieran Culkin is marvelous as the loud, nervy inappropriate one; writer-director Jesse Eisenberg's performance as the quiet one would be easy to overlook, but he's also terrific.

8. Kneecap--West Belfast lads stir up trouble performing hip hop in Irish, as in the Irish language; hard to resist.

9. Sing Sing--Colman Domingo is a powerhouse at the center of this drama about the Rehabilitation Through the Arts program at the title correctional facility; many of his superb costars are actual veterans of the program.

10. Anora--Brooklyn sex worker marries Russian oligarch's playboy son and imagines it's forever. The movie goes on too long and has a few complications too many, but it's ruefully funny, and Mikey Madison is great in the title role.

A few other titles that I found worth watching in 2024: The Fire Inside, Love Lies Bleeding, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga, Queer, My Old Ass, Between the Temples, Saturday Night, Thelma, Challengers, Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, the long-belated Pitch People and Francis Ford Coppola's infuriating yet inspiring Megalopolis. It's also important to note that there are many other major flicks, notably The Brutalist, The Substance, Wicked, Hard Truths, The Last Showgirl and September 5, that I haven't caught up with yet.

You can check out my short article, online at Phoenix Magazine, on this year's Chandler International Film Festival, running today through February 2.

Finally, for the kind few who might possibly care, here's the embarrassingly short list of books I read in 2024 (excluidng, as always, short stories, articles, poems, comics, fridge magnets, instruction manuals, road signs and stuff I'm re-reading):

The Great Time Machine Hoax by Keith Laumer

Prequel: An  American Fight Against Fascism by Rachel Maddow

Godzilla and Godzilla Raids Again by Shigeru Kayama

Eneas Africanus by Harry Stillwell Edwards

Billy Summers by Stephen King

Playback by Raymond Chandler

Bound to Rise by Horatio Alger, Jr.

My Childhood by Maxim Gorky

She'll Never Get Off the Ground by Robert J. Serling